any trouble since you left?”
“No. We haven’t had any of that kind of trouble. So far, I haven’t noticed anyone following us or even looking for us. Hopefully it will stay that way.”
“If anything changes, call me.”
“Thanks, Detective Brakeman. If something changes, you’ll be the first to know. I’ll be in touch soon to see if you found out anything more about Mr. Perry.”
“Stay safe, Olivia,” he commanded before hanging up the phone.
Knowing I only had a few minutes left of my break, I stayed outside and took a minute to myself to think. I tried to remember my father’s partnership with Mr. Perry and how they worked together—the good and the bad—but no red flags came to my mind. My father had trusted him. So did the rest of my family, and just the thought of him being involved with my parents’ murder sent chills down my spine. As desperate as I was to find out who had been responsible for my parents’ death, I prayed that we all hadn’t been wrong about Mr. Perry.
While most people were just getting up to pour their morning’s first cup of coffee, I was on my bike and on my way to the warehouse. It was colder than I’d expected and the chill in the air clung to me like a wet blanket. Ignoring my freezing balls, I followed Gus’s directions to the clubhouse. As I pulled up to the gate, one of the prospects came rushing towards me, but as soon as he noticed my Satan’s Fury patch, he stopped and motioned me through. I pulled my bike up front, and after I parked, I went inside to look for Gus.
I hadn’t gotten far when Lowball, one of the brothers, approached me. He was young, maybe in his early twenties, but he was a big dude with broad round shoulders like a linebacker and was covered from head to toe with tattoos and piercings. When I told him why I was there, he led me down a long hall to Gus’s office. He knocked, and once Gus answered, Lowball opened the door, letting me know it was okay to step inside.
When I entered the small room, Gus, a muscled-up older man with a long full beard, was sitting behind his desk. He was talking a mile a minute on his cellphone, and without stopping his conversation, he greeted me with a quick chin-lift and then nodded his head towards the chair in front of him. By the time I’d taken my seat, he was off the phone and said, “So, you’re the Clutch that Cotton has been telling me about. You know, I expected you to be bigger .”
I was six-three and two-forty. I laughed and said, “Yeah, well … I’ve missed a few meals while I was out on the road.”
“Glad you made it here alright. Was the apartment okay? You need anything over there?”
“Nah, it’s all good. The place is just right. I appreciate you putting me up.”
Gus was in his late sixties, older than most in his rank, but it was obvious by his thick, burly build that the man was still holding his own. He was tough. There was a hardness behind his eyes, and anyone could see that he’d be one to reckon with if there was ever any trouble with the club. As president of the Memphis Chapter, he’d have to be harder and smarter than most. The gang problem in the area was no secret, so not only did they have issues with localized competition, they also had to deal with the cops. With all the crime in the area, someone was always watching, and it only took one slip to fuck everything up. The smile dropped from his face as he leaned forward and said, “You got something to show me?”
I reached into my jacket pocket and said, “Yeah, I got it.” I pulled out the map, and, as soon as I started to unroll it, he got busy clearing off his desk. Once he was done, I laid it out before him. “It’ll involve four of our club chapters: Salt Lake, Denver, Topeka, and Oklahoma City.”
His shoulders relaxed a bit and he eased back in his chair. He crossed his arms and began nodding in approval. “Good strong chapters. Shouldn’t be any problems working with
“No. We haven’t had any of that kind of trouble. So far, I haven’t noticed anyone following us or even looking for us. Hopefully it will stay that way.”
“If anything changes, call me.”
“Thanks, Detective Brakeman. If something changes, you’ll be the first to know. I’ll be in touch soon to see if you found out anything more about Mr. Perry.”
“Stay safe, Olivia,” he commanded before hanging up the phone.
Knowing I only had a few minutes left of my break, I stayed outside and took a minute to myself to think. I tried to remember my father’s partnership with Mr. Perry and how they worked together—the good and the bad—but no red flags came to my mind. My father had trusted him. So did the rest of my family, and just the thought of him being involved with my parents’ murder sent chills down my spine. As desperate as I was to find out who had been responsible for my parents’ death, I prayed that we all hadn’t been wrong about Mr. Perry.
While most people were just getting up to pour their morning’s first cup of coffee, I was on my bike and on my way to the warehouse. It was colder than I’d expected and the chill in the air clung to me like a wet blanket. Ignoring my freezing balls, I followed Gus’s directions to the clubhouse. As I pulled up to the gate, one of the prospects came rushing towards me, but as soon as he noticed my Satan’s Fury patch, he stopped and motioned me through. I pulled my bike up front, and after I parked, I went inside to look for Gus.
I hadn’t gotten far when Lowball, one of the brothers, approached me. He was young, maybe in his early twenties, but he was a big dude with broad round shoulders like a linebacker and was covered from head to toe with tattoos and piercings. When I told him why I was there, he led me down a long hall to Gus’s office. He knocked, and once Gus answered, Lowball opened the door, letting me know it was okay to step inside.
When I entered the small room, Gus, a muscled-up older man with a long full beard, was sitting behind his desk. He was talking a mile a minute on his cellphone, and without stopping his conversation, he greeted me with a quick chin-lift and then nodded his head towards the chair in front of him. By the time I’d taken my seat, he was off the phone and said, “So, you’re the Clutch that Cotton has been telling me about. You know, I expected you to be bigger .”
I was six-three and two-forty. I laughed and said, “Yeah, well … I’ve missed a few meals while I was out on the road.”
“Glad you made it here alright. Was the apartment okay? You need anything over there?”
“Nah, it’s all good. The place is just right. I appreciate you putting me up.”
Gus was in his late sixties, older than most in his rank, but it was obvious by his thick, burly build that the man was still holding his own. He was tough. There was a hardness behind his eyes, and anyone could see that he’d be one to reckon with if there was ever any trouble with the club. As president of the Memphis Chapter, he’d have to be harder and smarter than most. The gang problem in the area was no secret, so not only did they have issues with localized competition, they also had to deal with the cops. With all the crime in the area, someone was always watching, and it only took one slip to fuck everything up. The smile dropped from his face as he leaned forward and said, “You got something to show me?”
I reached into my jacket pocket and said, “Yeah, I got it.” I pulled out the map, and, as soon as I started to unroll it, he got busy clearing off his desk. Once he was done, I laid it out before him. “It’ll involve four of our club chapters: Salt Lake, Denver, Topeka, and Oklahoma City.”
His shoulders relaxed a bit and he eased back in his chair. He crossed his arms and began nodding in approval. “Good strong chapters. Shouldn’t be any problems working with
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