The man behind the desk stands. “Saint. Come on in.”
“Shades, Ghost, Gentlemen. Thanks for agreeing to see us.”
Shades offers his hand, and Saint shakes it. Saint nods to another man. “Ghost. Good to see you again.”
“And who’d you bring with you?” Shades asks.
“This is my wife, Kami. Kami, this is Shades, VP of the Evil Dead’s Birmingham chapter.”
“Nice to meet you, darlin’.” His eyes move to the two men sitting. “Let the lady sit, assholes.”
The one closest offers me his seat.
“So, what’s your problem, prospect? How can we help?”
Saint explains about the robbery, and what leads we have.
One of them whistles. “You’re in a world of shit, boy.”
Saint runs his hand through his hair. “If I don’t get that money back and in the bank by Monday, I’m finished. I can kiss my patch good bye, and they might bury my dead body in a ditch for good measure.”
Shades quirks a brow. “It’s what I’d do, kid.”
Saint runs a hand down his face and huffs a laugh. “So any help you can give me would be appreciated.”
Shades nods, then flicks his eyes to me. “And why is she here?”
“I saw what they looked like.” I meet his gaze.
The man leaning against the credenza with his arms folded, rocks back. “So why don’t you tell us your version, sweetheart?”
“They were driving a Ford LTD. I didn’t see the plates, but there was a Birmingham radio station bumper sticker on the back.”
“What radio station?”
“Who the fuck cares what radio station, Ghost?” Shades snaps.
“Hey, could be a lead.” Ghost looks from Shades to me, waiting.
“Um, WDXX.”
“That’s a Spanish station. I’ve seen billboards for it.” Ghost arcs a brow at Shades, who looks at me.
“Ignoring the radio bullshit, tell us about the guy who stuck a gun in that pretty face of yours.”
“He wore a ski mask, but his eyes were dark, and there was a teardrop tattoo on his cheek.”
The men look at each other. Shades turns back to me. “Standard prison ink. What else, darlin’?”
I try to think. I close my eyes and recall those terrifying moments. And then it pops in my head. “He had no sleeves and there was a tattoo on his arm. I remember staring at it so I wouldn’t have to stare at the barrel of that gun.”
“What was the tattoo?”
“Like a weird symbol.”
“Can you draw it?” Shades slides a pen and scrap of paper across the desk.
“I’ll try.” I make a sketch and stare at it. “Yes, that was it.”
The men look down at what’s on the paper.
>ll_oo 90
“Mean anything to you?” Shades looks at Ghost.
“Nope.”
“Anybody?” Shades glances at the other men, but they shake their heads.
“Wait a minute.” Ghost snaps his fingers and points to the sketch on the paper. “That’s K-Loc 90. I guarantee it.”
“Who?” Shades frowns.
“That bunch downtown. That shit’s tagged all over the place down there. They have that backwards K. She mistook the second letter for an o instead of a c. Simple mistake.”
“I think you’re right. Gotta be them.”
“Who’s K-Loc 90?” Saint asks.
“A group originally out of Columbia. They took root in the US prison system,” Ghost explains.
Shades nods. “They’re starting to cut into our territory. Been getting too big for their britches for the last six months. We’ve been meaning to do something about ‘em, they just weren’t causing us too much trouble, and so we let it slide down the list of priorities. But we owe you one, so it’s a two-birds-one-stone kind of deal for us.”
“Whatever your reasons, I’m glad for the help.”
Shades turns to one of the other men. “Slick, use your connections. Find out whatever you can on them. I need the name of their leader and a location.”
“I’m on it.” He moves to the door.
“Griz, get us loaded for bear. No pun intended.” Shades grins.
“Asshole. I’m on it. You want the semi-automatics?”
“Sure, why not.”
Shades pulls out a bottle of whiskey and pours four shots, then passes them around. He lifts his glass. “Here’s to shootin’ straight.”
I grin, and he winks at me. We all down them. I grimace and the men laugh. We’re barely done when Slick comes back in.
“Found it.”
“That was quick.”
“Pays to have connections in the State Bureau of Investigations. They’ve had these guys in there sights for a while. Leaders name is Carlos Vargas. Goes by Los.” He carries in a laptop and flips it open. “They’re runnin out of this body shop, though it’s more of a chop shop.”
Shades squints at the screen. “Where the fuck is that?”
“Inglenook.”
“Fucking hell.” Shades meets Slick’s gaze. “They tell you anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Darlin’ you mind waiting outside.”
I look to Saint, and he nods. I stand.
“Ghost, show her to the bar and have the prospect get her a drink.”
I’m escorted to the bar and I ask the prospect for a cola.
Ten minutes later, more men start to show up, and I get the feeling they’ve been called in. Many are yawning, and they look like they’ve only gotten a short amount of sleep. I’m beginning to realize that most bikers are awake at night and sleep away the daylight hours.
I wonder if this K-Loc 90 gang is the same. It appears the plan is to move on them soon, and it’s only now just 6am.
Saint and the others troop out into the main room. Saint makes a beeline for me, cupping my neck and pulling me to him. He presses a kiss to my forehead, then presses his forehead to mine and stares into my eyes.
“We’re heading out.”
“Please don’t do this,” I plead. “I have more jewelry. I can sell it. I can get you that money.”
“Kami, I appreciate the offer. I do, but do you really think I’d let you sell your mother’s and grandmother’s jewelry? Fuck no.”
“I don’t want you to be killed. Please, they have guns.”
“We’ve got guns, too.”
“That’s what terrifies me.”
“Babe, I’ll be okay. I need to know you’re here and safe. Worrying about you could distract me. Understand?”
The words of argument die in my throat at his reasoning. I don’t want him distracted either. I nod.
“You’ll do as I say?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll try to get your necklace back, I promise.”
I shake my head. “I don’t care about that. I just want you safe and back in one piece.”
He kissed my forehead again, looks into my eyes, and then strokes his thumb over my mouth. He says nothing. He makes no promises about returning to me in one piece, and it hits me that he can’t promise that. He’s my knight, my savior, and right now I need him bulletproof. I need him to promise me everything will be okay, but all I can do is watch him follow the others outside, as he jerks on a pair of black gloves.