Page 14 of Sergei
“Yeah, it’s been handled.”
He gave me a slight nod, and that was that. No questions. No pushing for more. He knew I’d taken care of it, and that’s all he needed to know. I glanced down at my watch and was surprised to see that it was already after eight. I hadn’t planned on being at the casino all damn night, but the hours had gotten away from me.
It happened on nights like these when things were going so well. The slots were slammed, and every table was full of eager gamblers just waiting to give away their money, and I was more than happy to take it. Hell, I’d take every last dime.
I leaned against the rail overlooking the pit and glanced over at Preacher. He had a cigarette burning low between his fingers, and like me, he seemed pleased with the night’s turnout. He was taking it all in when his attention was drawn to his phone.
It was buzzing with a call, so he picked it up and answered, “Yeah, you got Preacher.”
There was a momentary pause before he added, “Yes, I’ll accept the call.”
Preacher motioned his head over at Goose and chuckled, “It’s your boyfriend.”
“What?” A knowing smile slipped across his face when he realized who was at the other end of the call. “Poo-kie!”
Preach gave him a slight nod, then said, “How’s it going, Pook?”
Pookie was their inside contact at the state prison, and they’d had him keeping an eye on Detective Maddox. He’d caused the club some problems by leading people in the area to think they were involved in trafficking. And more than that, he’d done a number on Creed and his woman.
It was a complicated, convoluted story to follow, much less repeat. Regardless, Maddox had information the brothers wanted and hoped Pookie could get it for them.
Pookie. Damn.
These men, full of tattoos and leather, called each other names like Goose, Skid, Grim, and now, Pookie. They were nothing like the Russian nicknames we used back at home. Ours carried the weight of what you’d done. They were earned in the street, not at a bar table, and they sounded nothing like cartoon characters or farm animals.
But Fury’s road names didn’t make them weak or clueless. These men were a force to be reckoned with, and they had no problem showing it. I was pulled from my thoughts when I noticed a shift in Preacher’s voice.
The humor was gone and had been replaced with a sharp edge. His back stiffened and his jaw clenched before he growled, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Goose immediately stepped closer and asked, “What’s going on?”
Preacher didn’t answer him. He simply lifted a hand, signaling to Goose that he needed a minute. In that moment, the easy humor I’d seen in Preacher seconds before evaporated and was replaced by steel. He was no longer just my partner or the man married to my mother. He was Preacher, the president of Satan’s Fury MC.
He listened for another second, then pulled the phone away from his ear and shook his head with frustration. “Maddox is dead.”
His words hung heavy in the air. If he were dead, that meant the information they needed died with him. There was no missing the surprise in Goose’s voice when he asked, “How?”
Preacher’s reply was clipped, cold, and final. “Call Creed.”
And that was it.
No explanation. No debate. Just orders given and orders followed. I said nothing. I just sat back and watched as the pieces fell together. When Creed came up the steps moments later, Preacher stepped over to him and announced, “Maddox was taken out.”
“What the fuck?” He ran his hand through his hair with frustration. “How the hell did that happen?”
“Russians got a hold of him.”
Creed’s eyes skirted over to me, and I knew what he was thinking. He was wondering if I knew who was behind Maddox’s death, but I didn’t have a clue. I lost most of my connections when we left New York. I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I just stared right back at him with a raised brow and a stern expression, letting him know that he could take his suspicions elsewhere.
After a moment, he turned his attention back to Preacher and asked, “What about Pookie? He was supposed to keep an eye on him.”
“He did what he could, but these guys were no match for him.”
“The Russians wouldn’t have killed him unless they had good reason.”
“Agreed. They had to have had something to do with all the trafficking, and they were afraid he’d talk.”
“It’s all starting to come together now.” This time, it was Goose who gave me a heavy look. “If Maddox was tied up with his Russians and if we’re tied up with our Russians, then thatcould be the connection Maddox was yapping about the night Creed gave him that beatdown.”
