He pulled out his phone as he swept his surroundings while moving into the pizza parlor.
He engaged it, found Rosie the minute he entered, shot her a smile, got hers in return and headed to the bar.
“Yo,” High answered.
“I’m being followed.”
“Say what?” High asked.
“I’m being followed. Haven’t made him yet. But I know it’s happening. I’m being followed.”
“Fuck,” High muttered.
“I’m at Rosie’s work, havin’ a slice before she gets off and I’m takin’ her home. Send someone to do a scan?”
“On it.”
“Thanks, brother.”
High said nothing. He just disconnected.
“Pepperoni and mushroom, honey?” Rosalie said at his side.
Rosie was in work mode.
He didn’t mind.
He still was gonna give his woman shit.
“Hello to you too, babe,” he replied, sliding a hand along her waist and pulling her to him where he sat a stool.
She leaned into him, gliding both her hands into his cut to round him and tipped her head back.
He gave her a kiss.
And felt that itch.
So he lifted his head and looked around.
There were a couple of folks looking at them, probably because Rosie was gorgeous and worth watching, maybe because he was in a Club cut and a curiosity, but none of them were the ones behind the itch.
His attention went to the windows.
“Snap?” Rosie called.
He looked to her.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, baby. And yeah again. Pepperoni and mushroom.”
Her eyes roamed his face before she pressed in, smiled, kissed his jaw then pulled away to get him his slice.
He turned to watch her.
Then he got up, moved stools, taking the last one against the wall.
“You moved,” she said, behind the bar now, sliding a bottle of beer his way.
“Better people watching.”
And that was the truth.
She grinned. “I won’t be long. Join you in the slice after I clock out.”
“Okay, babe,” he muttered, reaching for the brew.
She bounced away.
He watched her ass while she did it.
Then he turned his attention back to the restaurant, the windows and beyond.
The itch was gone.
But he was being watched.
He fucking knew it.
Beck
Beck moved out of the bar sliding his shades over his eyes.
He’d had to take off from work early to hit it before maybe Digger hit it, since Digger had a day job and could only go out and tie one on then do whatever depraved shit that perv did to fill his time after quitting time.
He moved to his bike, swung a leg over, powered it up, took off, but only rode four blocks before he turned into the parking lot of a strip mall, cut the ignition but stayed on his bike and pulled out his phone.
He made the call.
“Beck,” Lucas answered.
“Lucas, you got a minute?” he asked.
“You got something, I got a minute.”
“Right, just left Smitty’s. A dive in Commerce City.”
“Heard of it. Don’t know it. And?”
“Talked to a man called Pickle. And it won’t tax your brain to figure out why he’s called that.”
“Not familiar with the lushes in Commerce City, Beck,” Lucas told him.
Beck went on like Lucas didn’t talk.
“Few conversations, had to be cool about it, took time, but eventually got the history that Pickle, Digger, a brother in my club and Chew all used to run together, and they were tight.”
“Now I’m interested,” Lucas said low.
Yeah.
Beck knew he would be.
“So, just havin’ a chat with Pickle, who was clobbered before I even showed an hour ago, found out, back in the day they all hung with Chaos, hopin’ to be taken on, become prospects.”
“The link,” Lucas muttered.
“Yeah,” Beck confirmed. “Chew got in, Digger and Pickle were a pass. And just to say, this was not popular with Digger and Pickle. Digger, my guess, got over it. Pickle still sees Digger, but he thinks Chew is a fucktard. His call, said that straight, and full of bitter, though we both know he’s not wrong. Pickle was all about not bein’ surprised Chew pulled out of Chaos. Said he knew firsthand the man knows shit about brotherly love.”
“Gotta tell you, got a call from Tack today and Chaos has put this together,” Lucas informed him.
“Gotta tell you, personally don’t give a fuck how Bounty, or whatever the fuck we are right now, got tangled in that mess. I went after this for another reason.”
“What’s that?”
Beck drew in breath and watched the cars go by.
“Beck?” Lucas prompted.
“All right, listen, yeah? ’Cause I got dick on this, except a feeling in my gut.”
“Lay it on me, Beck,” Lucas said quietly.
“The man ain’t right,” Beck told him. “Digger. He’s a skeeve. Never liked him. Never hang with him. He just ain’t right.”
“Keep going,” Lucas urged.
“Recently, he really ain’t right. Somethin’s up with him and it’s not the shit his club got into.”
“But you don’t know what it is,” Lucas surmised.
“No, I don’t. But I can tell you it doesn’t make me feel good at all that he’s starting to relax. He was wound up. Took a long mental hike. There at meetings. When the brothers were hanging out. But his mind was somewhere else. Now, he’s comin’ back to the fold. And now he’s even more not right. Like . . . relieved or proud of himself or something. And that guy feelin’ good about anything gives me the shivers.”
Lucas was silent.
“Okay, you may not know this guy, but my take is, it’d take somethin’ seriously sick to make a guy like him freaked. Now he’s not freaked. And I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
Lucas was silent again but before Beck could break it, Lucas spoke up.
“A woman named Diane Ragowski was murdered nine months ago. She’d gotten into drugs, turned to porn to earn her fix, but the investigation turned up two suspects, both she was carrying on a sexual relationship with outside work. Wayne Benson was one of those suspects.”
Wayne Benson.
Digger.
“He did her,” Beck stated.
“He has an alibi.”
“He got someone to lie for him,” Beck returned, and he had to think on it a half a second before he said, “Let me guess. Pacino?”
“Considering Karl Sanderson’s street name is Pacino, and Sanderson is the alibi, yes.”
“Fuck,” Beck bit. “That guy’s a weasel, but he’d do anything for a brother. He lied, Lucas.”
“You can prove that?”
“Right now? No. But I will.”
Lucas sounded even more alert when he said, “Beck, you be careful with this. This isn’t your remit. You’re there to inform on the club formerly known as Bounty and their dealings with Benito Valenzuela. Not catch a killer. That is a different case and it has nothing to do with your deal.”
“Does it matter I catch a killer while I do that other shit?”
“When Bounty lost touch with Valenzuela, your deal changed, so I gotta remind you that you’re not exactly goin’ into WITSEC after this all goes down. Deal is, they get tight with Valenzuela again, you went down with them, did your time, they didn’t know, you got out early, court-ordered to steer clear of your former brothers, you move on with your life.”
“Well, now I got something added to my agenda.”
“Beck—”
“You seriously not okay with me handing you a murderer?” Beck asked.
“I’m serious in telling you there’s a difference between a biker informant who is never gonna be known for informing and sticking your nose into a murder investigation. Digger is getting loose because a good amount of time has passed, and he thinks he got away with it. A man will do a lot not to find his shit in Sterling Correctional Facility. He kills a porn star who half the men in that joint probably have convinced themselves they were in love with, he’ll really shy away from that being his future. And you won’t wanna find out all he’ll do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I got this, Lucas.”
“Beck—”
He changed his wording to give it the honesty.
“I gotta do this, Lucas.”
Lucas was again silent.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Beck promised.
“Beck,” Lucas said. “Didn’t think I’d ever say this, but it says a lot about you, the motivation you have to right a wrong, especially a wrong as mammoth and fucked up as you perpetrated, and the risks you’re takin’ to do that. But you’re doin’ that. Focus on that. I need you for that, man. I can pass this shit you gave me to the detectives on the case and they’ll run with it. But it’s important to point out, you’re on the righteous path. But you can’t enjoy earning salvation if you’re dead.”
“Trust me, a man like Digger won’t best me.”
“A man like Digger with what he’s got to lose can surprise you.”
His phone sounded with a text as he said, “I’m doin’ this.”
“Fuck,” Lucas growled, giving in. “I want more contact.”
“You got it.”
“Anything you find, you feed to me, and I’ll feed to the detectives on that case. You don’t dig further.”
“You got it,” Beck lied.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Lucas muttered.
What did it matter?
He got Digger, a murder was solved.
He got fucked in the effort, who cared?
Lucas didn’t.
Beck didn’t either.