Page 42 of Striker
“From where?” Jasper demands.
“He works as a hired gun for drug dealers in the next county over. I hear he does mostly collections and transport.”
“Name?” Rock asks.
“I think his name is Theodore. They call him Theo for short.”
“Who does he work for exactly?” Jasper asks. “We need these connections to make sense.”
I dig out an image I found a while back but didn’t know if it was related. The image is of a well-groomed man with a square jawline and wild eyes.
Rock rises slowly from his chair. “Who the fuck is he?”
“His name is Marcus Delaney. He operates a string of meth labs just east of the county line.”
I bring up another window and start laying out everything I’ve collected on him. His home address, known businesses, warehouses, vehicles and shell corporations cover the screen.
Jasper’s eyes cut towards me. “You had this the whole time?”
“I ran across him when I was looking at local criminal elements. Until now, nothing connected him to Vale, at least nothing the feds could prove. Then I got to thinking, what if he was using Vale to launder money, but Vale kept Delaney’s operation off the books. That means the FBI wasn’t aware of him. When Vale went down, Delaney kept his money, his territory, and his freedom. But after Vale’s arrest, he had no way to launder his money.”
“And now wants Vale out to launder his money,” Slate says.
“That’s what Beth thinks,” I reply. “Delaney wants to keep her from testifying at Vale’s hearing. If he can scare her into not showing up, there’s nobody to knock down the coercion claim, and the judge could order a new trial or throw out the conviction altogether.”
Rock studies the screen. “Where would Delaney take them?”
“He owns a house, two warehouses, and a string of old agricultural properties through shell companies. I think those rural properties might be where he’s cooking his meth.”
“Do you have locations on all those agricultural properties?” Jasper asks.
I enlarge that section of the map. “Twenty-eight different secluded parcels.”
“Is there road access?” Rock asks.
“Secondary roads connect them. A few are so secluded there are only dirt roads that lead to them,” I reply.
I notice Jasper is sitting back and letting his old man do the talking. I guess that’s what makes him a good prez and the rightful successor to his father. Besides my woman, the assholes have his mom—but she’s Rock’s old woman too, and the fuckers don’t know who they’re messing with.
Rock leans over the table. “You’re right about them cookin’ meth on those properties. Meth operations are safer if they’re small. He’d want to spread his operation out so if one gets busted or blows up, he won’t lose everything.”
Rock continues before anyone can interrupt, “We call up reinforcements from our allied clubs, spread out, search every square mile and burn every single meth lab, storage place and property he owns to the ground.”
He studies Delaney’s photograph for another moment, then looks around the meeting room.
“I want drones in the sky. We find our women and bring them home first,” Rock says. “After that, we burn down everything this motherfucker owns.”
Rock’s plan is cold and methodical. And it’s exactly the kind of scorched-earth response that makes sure Delaney won’t be a problem for our club anymore.
And Rock makes one more decision before we ride. “Onyx, get Mica on the phone,” he says. Like Jasper, Slate, and Onyx, Mica is Queenie’s son. He left to start his own club. His club is called the Raging Vultures MC. If Mica hears some fucking drug lord abducted his mama, he’s gonna come running with everything he’s got.
Delaney earned the wrath of two vicious motorcycle clubs when he put Queenie in that van.
I threw in my lot with these men long ago. They’re my club brothers, through thick and thin. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that we’re gonna get our women back and make them regret they ever touched one of our women. And heaven help them if they’ve touched a hair on my old lady’s head because when it comes to my family, I’m not the forgiving type.
Chapter 18
Beth
