Harder (Stark Ink Book 1) (12 page)

Shooter Sullivan’s idea of a visit was anything but friendly. As they’d rolled up a block away from the Buzzard’s clubhouse, Shooter pulled to the curb, took a hand cannon out of his saddlebag and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Adam noticed that every man there had a similar piece of heavy firepower. Since they were all double-checking their weapons, Adam pulled out his 9mm and checked the clip.

Easy laughed as he palmed his Desert Eagle. “We should’ve borrowed Izzy’s shotgun for Adam,” he said to Doc who had joined them after a brief phone call from Shooter before they’d left for the bank.

Adam frowned down at his semi-automatic. “I feel woefully inadequate.” He glanced over at Doc who also had a .45. Adam was leery of having an ex-cop in the group. Surely this was out of the man’s wheelhouse, being the law and order type. But Doc asked no questions, carried one very large gun, and a lot of bullets. Adam was suddenly less surprised that the man wasn’t a cop anymore.

Once they were all loaded for bear, or Buzzards as the case seemed to be, they rolled up to the razor-wire topped fence that surrounded the Buzzards clubhouse. More a warehouse than a true clubhouse, whatever that was, it was located, unsurprisingly, in the warehouse district just over the railroad tracks from Maria’s bar.

During their previous arrangement, Adam had brought in monthly payments to the bar where he’d originally hit Prior up for the loan in the first place. Adam had never been to the clubhouse before, but could see that he hadn’t missed out on anything special. There were a lot of bikes parked on the property, which was to be expected, but there were a few junker cars and a van as well. Adam didn’t let himself think about corpse transport as he followed Shooter and his crew through the open gates. They all parked in front of the warehouse’s large double doors.

“Keep your piece in your pants,” Shooter ordered Adam quietly as the doors opened and Hook sidled out. “You hand over the money. We’ll back you up.”

As Adam got off his Harley, he realized that this would be his last ride. He didn’t have time to properly mourn the loss of the relationship. Dipping into his own saddlebags, he pulled out two satchels of cash. He hoisted them up, one under each arm and walked toward the warehouse. He stopped just in front of Shooter, though, not wanting to venture inside alone.

“Someone called in reinforcements,” Hook said to Haze who was bringing up the rear. Hook frowned at the men behind Adam.

Haze laughed.

Adam ignored the implication that he was a pussy for not coming alone. “Here’s everything,” he said to them, tossing one bag at Hook and one at Haze. “We’re square now.”

“Where’s Prior?” Shooter demanded over Adam’s shoulder.

“Prior?” asked Hook, barely looking up from the bag he was inspecting. “Prior took a long walk off a short pier.”

Haze laughed again. He was missing a few teeth and he sounded a bit like a braying donkey, though Adam wouldn’t say it out loud. “Ain’t no water where we dumped him,” he declared gleefully.

Adam now understood the nature of Jack Prior’s ‘trouble’ and it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Adam’s a friend of mine,” Shooter announced to anyone within earshot.

“I could give a shit,” Hook replied.

“Hook. Is that your name?” Shooter asked. “I didn’t recognize it, but I recognize you. You’re Pete’s kid, right?”

Hook stiffened a bit.

“Pete was pretty smart and hopefully you are, too. Prior was
real
smart.”

“Wasn’t that smart,” Haze muttered. “Done in by a piece of pussy.”

Shooter ignored him. “Pete knew enough not to fuck with my old man. And Prior knew enough not to fuck with
me
. I suggest you keep the status quo.”

From behind all of them, Easy said, “That means—”

Hook spat onto the dirt. “I know what it fucking means.”

“You and Adam are square,” Shooter said. “He won’t hear from you again.”

It looked like Hook might actually be smart enough to pick up what Shooter Sullivan was putting down. He grunted, nodded, then turned and walked away. Shooter waited until they were back inside the clubhouse before starting up his bike and turning back for the garage.

On the clean, gravel lot of Burnout, Adam thanked Shooter and handed over the keys to his Harley.

Easy appeared beside Adam as Tex walked the Harley into the garage. “Daisy’s staying away from your place for a while,” he said in a New Orleans drawl. “Just until things calm down.”

Adam nodded. “I’m not arguing. I got a girl myself that I’m going to have to keep away from my shop. She could have been there when they came to collect.”

Shooter turned from the garage and back to Adam and Easy. “Doc’s still got some ins with RCPD. He’ll get them to drive by your place for a few days.”

Adam might be overstepping but he asked, “My family’s place, too? I’ve got an elderly Pop and two young teenagers living there.” Shooter, though, had a reputation for being a stand-up guy and Adam felt fairly confident he wouldn’t leave Adam’s family exposed.

“Not a problem,” the man said then he looked at Adam’s Harley. “You need a ride?”

Adam frowned and shook his head. He was done asking for favors from the ex-Ranger. “Nah. I’ll call a cab.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Shooter,” Adam said and held out his hand. “If there’s anything I can ever do for you…” Adam didn’t know what he could offer to a man like this, but it seemed only right to say it anyway.

“I know where to find you,” Shooter told him before he let go of his hand.

Adam walked to the curb and called a cab to take him home. He willed himself not to turn around and look at the Harley one last time. It had made sense to sell it instead of the Charger. Fall and winter would be here soon enough and between Mom’s funeral expenses and Pop’s medical bills who knew when he would scrape together enough cash to buy another one?

He squinted at the sun blazing overhead, hanging in a bright blue sky. Yet another mismatch between his personal circumstances and the South Dakota weather. The yellow cab pulled up and he slid inside. At least it was air-conditioned. He gave the address and leaned back against the seat. He closed his eyes to shut out the offending sun. As much as he didn’t want to think about it, he couldn’t help but feel just a little sorry for himself. Every day for the last three weeks seemed to get just a bit harder than the last one. Rock bottom was apparently the cracked pleather seat of a yellow cab that smelled like pine air freshener and stale cigarette smoke.

Adam pulled out his cellphone at the same time he dug out his wallet. He paid the driver and stepped out of the cab.

Standing in front of the shop, he couldn’t help but frown. The place looked like a shithole in the harsh light of day. The sickly yellow of the plywood he’d nailed over the front door irritated him. The broken glass was off the stoop but the place was a still a mess. Stark white dots peppered the door’s black frame where the paint had chipped off when they’d broken it. He scowled and stalked around to the back of the building, dialing with his thumb. As the phone rang, he held his breath. He needed people he could rely on. Now more than ever. On the third ring, Dalton answered.

“Hey,” Adam said lamely into the phone.  He was hardly sure where to start, things between them had been strained lately, to say the least. The last thing Adam needed was to have to wade through that bullshit right now, though. However, he also didn’t relish the idea of having to re-hash this story. In the best interests of his own short-temper, and in deference to Dalton’s, Adam got right to the point. “Look, my place got broken into.”

There was a scrape on the other end of the phone then Dalton’s voice, louder, asked, “What? When? Did they get anything? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. They didn’t get anything. But they broke the front door. It’s totaled. I need to replace it.” He paused and glanced at the back door as he approached it. “And I’m thinking a stronger deadbolt for the back door, too. Just in case.”

There was a pause as Dalton took it all in. Adam waited, preparing himself to be brushed off but still hoping for the best. Then Dalton said, “I’m off in an hour. I’ll head to the store, then to your place.”

Adam gave a silent sigh of relief. Dalton may have a few problems, but he obviously hadn’t forgotten what family was for. Their beef could wait a few days until this shit was sorted out. “Thanks,” he replied, and really, truly meant it.

“No problem,” Dalton replied. “They break anything inside?”

“Nah. Nothing that really needs fixing, anyway.” The frames could be replaced easily. Dalton didn’t need to worry about such shit like that.

They hung up and Adam headed inside. He ignored the temptation to look at the ruined lobby again. Instead, he trudged straight upstairs and into the shower as though he could wash away all the bullshit that had been slung at him recently. The tightness in his shoulders was stubborn, though, and refused to give way to the hot water. He emerged still stiff—not to mention tired—and took his time drying his hair. He redressed in jeans and an old T-shirt, perfect for construction work. He headed back downstairs to wait for Dalton.

In the interim, he dialed his phone again and this time Stark Brother the Youngest answered. “Everything okay?” Adam asked Jonah. He considered actually crossing his fingers as he waited for an answer.

“Yeah,” Jonah replied. “Nothing exciting.”

Adam could hear the TV in the background. He pictured Pop crashed out on the recliner, staring at the idiot box. Then he surveyed the broken glass on the black and white tile floor of the shop’s lobby and frowned. “Probably a good thing,” he told Jonah.

“Yeah.”

“Listen,” Adam said. “I’ll be over to check on you guys in a little bit. Just got a few things to take care of over here.” He paused and considered what to say. “Don’t… don’t open the door for anyone.”

Jonah snorted. “Am I a latchkey kid now?”

“Seriously. Just don’t. I don’t want Pop to get agitated.”

“Okay.”

Adam felt bad about lying, but the truth would only lead to a lot of questions. Jonah didn’t need to know he’d hit up a biker gang for a loan. His youngest brother appeared to have a good head on his shoulders; well, at least he did now, anyway. Protecting him from the shadier side of Rapid City made the most sense. Jonah wasn’t stupid; he wasn’t likely to open the door to a group of bikers standing on the front porch. But Adam felt better having at least given him some kind of warning.

He lowered himself to the bottom step, facing the back door of the shop. There would be time to sleep later, he supposed.
When I’m dead,
he supposed humorlessly. But a break couldn’t hurt. He leaned his head against the banister and closed his eyes. Shop, home, sleep, in that order. All he had to do was get through today and it was all downhill from here. For the most part, anyway.

His eyes remained closed until he heard the crunch of gravel in the lot. Adam rose and unlocked the door as Dalton pulled up in his heavy-duty Ford and backed it in. It dwarfed the Charger as he parked next to it. The driver’s side door swung open and he hauled himself out. Adam was ashamed to admit he was checking to make sure his younger brother was sober. Dalton lurched out of the truck and his heavy boots hit the gravel. He looked for all the world like a man who had his head on straight. Adam was grateful for that, at least. Dalton moved to the bed and grabbed the latch. “Found a replacement,” he told Adam, opening the gate.

Adam stepped closer and spied a large rectangle, taped up in cardboard and secured to the truck bed.

“You sure the other one’s not salvageable?” Dalton asked as he reached instead for a leather tool belt tucked to the side.

“I’m sure,” Adam replied darkly.

“Okay, then. Let’s take a look.” Dalton grabbed the tool belt and turned, but stopped suddenly and looked around the parking lot. “Where’s your bike?”

Adam sighed. “Gone.”

Dalton’s jaw dropped. “They got your bike, too?”

“Not exactly,” Adam muttered and held the back door open for his brother.

Dalton hefted the belt over his shoulder again and shuffled inside. “What do you mean not exactly?” he asked as he followed Adam down the hall. He paused once more as he took in the state of the lobby. “Holy shit.” The glass still sprinkled the floor and the battered frames leaned haphazardly against the wall.

“Adam,” Dalton said. The single word was a demand for information.

Adam grimaced. “I had some trouble.”

“This goes beyond ‘some trouble’,” said Dalton as he eyed the broken front door.

“Some Buzzards showed up while I was gone.” He gestured to the broken door. “They busted in, tossed the place.”

Dalton’s eyebrows shot up. “Buzzards? The MC?”

Adam nodded.

“What the fuck?”

“They said I owed them.
Still
owed them. From before.”

Dalton frowned. “I thought you paid.”

“
I did
,” Adam insisted. “I tried to tell them that, but they had Prior’s ledger and there was ‘Stark’ clear as day. It said I owed another twenty grand.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, D. I don’t know if Prior was going to try and shake me down for more, or if he got it all fucked up or what. All I know is I thought I was free and clear, but then there were four assholes here when I showed up last night, claiming I owed them more cash. I had some saved. Sold the bike for the rest. I’m clear now,” he added darkly. “Supposedly.”

A heavy silence hung between them until Dalton said, “Adam.”

Adam sighed. “I just don’t know what happened. He picked up his own hammer off the lobby desk and stalked to the front door. After aligning the claw with one of the nails, he began to pull it free.

“Adam.”

The second time, the hitch in Adam’s slightly-younger brother’s voice drew his attention. Adam’s hand tightened reflexively on the hammer. He turned and saw the drawn look on Dalton’s face. A long moment of silence hung between them.

“No,” Adam said quietly.

“Adam… I am so sorry.”

“No,” Adam repeated, louder this time.

Dalton rubbed his hand along his scruffy face. “I missed some work.”

Adam gaped at him. “Missed some work?
Missed some work?
More like
ditched
some work!”

Dalton retreated as Adam stepped forward.

“A shitload of work!”

Dalton took another step back. “I asked Prior to spot me some cash. For my truck payment.”

“
Fucking hell!
”

“He was cool about it!” Dalton held up his hands. “He said I had time to pay him. I’m not all that close to the deadline. I don’t… I don’t know why they want the money now. Or why they asked you for it. All I said was I knew you’d gone to him for some cash. I never said anything like you’d vouch for me or guarantee my loan. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Money laundering!” Adam spat.

Dalton’s brow knitted. “What?”

“Look around!” Adam shouted. “It’s a cash business and a perfect front. The Buzzards want to set up shop here for laundering their drug money, or whatever it is they do to get flush in this town, which we don’t want to know about or have anything to fucking do with!”

Dalton stood frozen as Adam’s rage boiled over.

Hours ago Adam was just like his younger brother, shocked to learn about the Buzzards plan for his place, and feeling equally stupid that he hadn’t foreseen it.

“Prior said—”

“Prior’s dead!” Adam bellowed.

Dalton started. “What do you mean
dead
? What the fuck?”

“I mean his buddies probably took him to the Badlands and snuffed him! And they found his book and thought
your
loan was mine! They probably didn’t expect me to pay, Dalton! They probably expected me to say I couldn’t come up with it.
They for goddamn sure didn’t expect me to withdraw every fucking dime I have and sell my bike to cover it
! They expected me to come crawling, begging for more time, and then they’d smile and say, “Sure, Stark, in the meantime you can help us out with a little something. And the whole fucking time it was you.
Your
loan!
Your bullshit
!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, you said that. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Dalton’s apologetic look faded as quickly as it had appeared. “Hey! You got into this shit with Prior first!”

“And I paid it back! I worked my ass off, showed up every day to run this place, busted my balls to pay it back. I didn’t piss it away getting wasted every night.”

“So, I’m not perfect!” Dalton shot back.

“Not perfect? Not perfect? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Fuck you! You have everything!” Dalton cried. “Talent, this place!”

“I built this place!”

“No
I
built this place!” Dalton screamed. “With my two hands! When I
had
two hands!”

“Stop making excuses!”

“Stop looking down on me!”

Adam glared at him. “I’m always going to look down on you. Especially after you’re on the fucking floor!” Adam dropped the hammer and lunged.