His words drop like a bomb in the room. He’s right. Over the last few years, we’ve operated on a level where we knew who was gunning for us, and we were proven wrong more often than right. With the club going international with the Operation Hell Hound gig, we need to think wider.
I curse under my breath as I see the hole we put ourselves in and look to Law. He’s already staring at me, reading my mind, no doubt.
“You’re dismissed,” Law tells the prospect, who nods and leaves, closing the door on the way out. “Let’s table that for a second. Flint, continue.”
Flint shrugs, but I see the tic in his jaw. I know he isn’t happy about this. “We missed it for two reasons. One, we weren’t looking. We did a full sweep on her, more than the usual, but she still didn’t ping because of the second reason.”
“Which is?” Casper drawls out as I see him pick over his peanut butter and onion sandwich. It looks okay, even if I’ve got no idea how the prospect got it on pumpkin bread. Pretty sure not even the bakery sells that stuff outside the fall months.
“She had help,” Law says, drawing the conclusion just like me.
Flint nods.
“Who?” I ask.
“Crazy Eights.” Flint waits a beat to let that sit heavy in the air before turning his tablet back around, tapping on it as he continues to fill us in. “They were the ones who made her disappear. From what I’ve gathered, not even her family knows where she is.”
“Is her family behind this?” Law asks with a tilt of his head, trying to figure it out before anyone speaks, no doubt.
“Nah,” Flint says with a headshake. “Don’t think so. From what I’ve been able to piece together, her family is keeping up the ruse for her and Ollie’s sake. They deflect when anyone asks about her, but no hits are coming out of their office. And I’ve looked. Thoroughly.”
“You think the Crazy Eights approached them or vice versa?” Casper asks. We know little about that group, but we know we owe them. And it’s never money. If the Crazy Eights are looking to gain a favor from the future head of the East Coast mafia, you can bet it’s going to be one hell of a payment.
“Can’t tell. The family is keeping things quiet, but I’ve got nothing to link them to the other group. Everything I found—which isn’t much, since the Crazy Eights know what the fuck they’re doing—is just between Milly and them.”
I rub my hands over my face, hoping to scrub hard enough to wash away what’s right in front of me. Which is shit. Jack shit.
“Where do we go from here?” I say with a sigh of resignation.
“We could just ask her. Maybe even get Fairy in on it,” Domino says with a head tilt and a shoulder shrug.
Law shakes his head before he speaks. “No, not yet. I want her to trust us enough to tell us herself.”
I snort at that. “Sorry, boss, but the girl’s from Brooklyn. She’s as stubborn as they come, and trust is not something we’re going to gain easily. If we want answers sooner than later, I’m with Domino on this. Take the chick down to the basement and let the club’s lie detector figure out where her mind is.”
“She’s got a kid,” Chains says, his eyes on the table. “A kid she sent away to keep safe.” He looks up and matches eyes with all of us before continuing. “She does everything for that kid. If we send Fairy in, all she’s going to get is that the girl’s a protective mother, just like my old lady is. You said so yourself, Bass, she’s stubborn. Probably stubborn enough not to speak at all, which won’t help Fairy or any of us. I’m with Law on this. Best way for her to speak is to give her time. We keep watch, keep them safe, and wait it out.”
“That’s going to take longer than a week,” I grit out.
“Probably.” Chains’ eyes are on me and me alone.
I work my jaw; it clicks with how tight I’m holding it. I don’t like this shit, not one fucking bit. But before I can say anything more, Law is already moving past this problem and on to the next.
“Prospect’s right. We need to run a full sweep on everyone who walks into the club or touches club property for more than just a pass-and-go.”
Flint nods as he types away. Casper is the one to speak up, his mouth full of sandwich. “You even want it on the brothers?”
Law hesitates briefly. We run the gamut on everyone when they first come in but never check in after the fact. Doesn’t mean we won’t find things if we do it again. Doesn’t mean we will either, of course.
“We’ll put it to a vote,” Law says, and the boys and I nod. If no one complains, then we already know we’ve got nothing to worry about. If someone does… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
“What about the club girls?” Domino inquires with a scratch of his head and pinched face. Casper and I look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he winces. “Sorry.”
He knows that if we do that, probably half the girls we’ve got will take off running. Might not seem so bad to the rest of the boys in the room, as they’ve all got their old ladies to keep them warm at night. Well, except for Law, but he says the memories of his old lady are enough for him. But some of us don’t want a permanent thing.
Law nods. “Yeah, I get it. Pussy is pussy, but Domino has a point. If we’re going to run it on the boys, we need to do so for those the club wants to stick their dick in—at least the ones who hang around more than once. If they show more than one night, do a full sweep.” He says the last bit to Flint, who doesn’t even look up but nods, knowing it’s directed at him.
I put aside the ache my balls are imagining and think with my brain before I speak. “As for the ones who walk in the door, we might want to do some facial recognition software. Could cut down on Flint and his team pulling all-nighters.Have it flag the big hitters and whatnot, just for an initial look, anyway.”
