“Valenzuela’s here,” he announced.
The minute Valenzuela entered the room with his soldier, the air turned stagnant. Not a single man there wanted to be in the presence of the two who walked in, and as copasetic as this was supposed to be, that was communicated.
Men took seats at Sebring’s conference table by the window that overlooked the club and Joker watched how this happened so he could be where Tack needed him to be.
Knight sat, as did Tack, Mitch, Brock, Hank, and Valenzuela, at the table. Shy lounged on Sebring’s couch. Hop sat on the arm of the couch. Valenzuela’s soldier stood close to his back. Rhashan leaned against the door.
So Joker took his seat on the arm of one of the chairs in front of Sebring’s desk.
Valenzuela started it.
And he did it with a surprise opener.
“I come to barter.”
“Barter what?” Knight asked, looking displeased because whatever he thought this was, that was not it.
“I know who killed Heidi. I give that up, you…” Valenzuela eyes went to Tack, “retreat to Chaos.”
“And how would you know that?” Mitch asked.
Valenzuela looked to Joker. “I got birds who sing too.”
Joker’s back snapped straight, but he kept his seat when Hop’s eyes sliced to him.
“We’ll consider our territory eight miles around Chaos, you give us the name,” Tack said.
Tack was giving up two miles for Heidi.
Said a lot about him but it fucked their cause.
It would be worth it.
Valenzuela looked to him. “Retreat to Chaos,” he stated. “By that I mean Ride.”
Shy shifted from ass in the couch to ass on the edge of it and Hop took his feet but hung back.
They did this because that was an insult. Heidi’s life was worth a lot, but Chaos giving up what they’d given blood for, which meant giving in, giving up, and letting filth infest their turf was asking too fucking much.
Brock, who had more experience in a very real way, living among scum like Valenzuela when he was undercover for the DEA, stood. “This is a waste of time.”
“Don’t be hasty, detective,” Valenzuela urged.
“Then make an offer that isn’t bullshit,” Brock shot back.
Valenzuela smiled. “I give you the name, you give me Monk’s fights.” He looked to Tack. “And a marker.”
Shit.
Fuck.
Owing Valenzuela.
Joker hoped like fuck Tack did not give that.
And they didn’t have the fights. The boys had voted it down. They’d let Monk swing.
Weirdly, Valenzuela didn’t know that.
Brock sat back down.
“You been talkin’ to Monk?” Tack asked.
He shook his head. “He says that goes through your fighter,” then he tipped his head to Joker.
Goddamned shit.
They’d let Monk swing and he still was using Joker’s name to keep his shit free of Valenzuela.
“You got the fights,” Tack gave him something they didn’t have, which meant it didn’t cost to give it. “No marker.”
Valenzuela shook his head again but said, “No marker, then I’ll take the two miles.”
“That’s off the table, seein’ as you showed disrespect by startin’ the way you did.”
“Then no name unless there’s a marker,” Valenzuela volleyed.
“Right,” Tack shot back. “Marker with conditions. No bitches. No drugs. No felonies. Nothin’ fuckin’ illegal. Which means no enforcement. No transportation. No muscle.”
“This leaves selling cookies, Tack, and I don’t sell cookies,” Valenzuela returned, his voice turning impatient.
“It leaves you havin’ a month of Chaos turnin’ the other way. And you wanna jump on that, Benito, and I know you get me,” Tack retorted.
Joker knew Valenzuela got Tack. Brock and Mitch were there for that reason.
Chaos was keeping their patch clean.
They were also keeping tabs. Anything they heard was fed to the cops.
Valenzuela just couldn’t know what they were—or weren’t—hearing.
The truth was, the majority of lowlifes on the street were scared shitless of Valenzuela, which meant Chaos usually got dick.
But Valenzuela didn’t know that.
“You do know,” Hank butted in, “that I’m listenin’ to this bullshit as a courtesy to men I respect. But I’m also the investigating officer on the homicide in question. So if you know a name, make your deal real fuckin’ quick and say it or you’ll be in handcuffs for obstruction of justice.”
Valenzuela’s mouth tightened and Joker dropped his head as he fought back a smile.
Hank being there would not have been his call. As much as Lee straddled the line of the law, doing what he had to do to get done whatever job he had to get done, Hank was like Mitch. A straight shooter. He could easily give up his badge and make wads of cash with his brother.
Instead he protected and served.
Valenzuela had assumed incorrectly that Hank was one with their crew.
Tack had brought in a ringer.
So that shit that just went down was funny.
“At those fights, Chaos recently sent a message.”
At these words from Valenzuela, Joker’s head came back up.
He felt a chill slide down his spine when he saw Valenzuela’s eyes on him.
“I knew about Heidi,” he said in a creepy, low voice. “Thought you were the man who’d get her out of the life. She’d do anything for you.”
Joker’s throat closed.
He didn’t know that. He did. But he still didn’t.
Valenzuela wasn’t done.
“I let her do what she had to do. It made her happy, and Heidi did better work when she was happy. But everyone knew what she was up to. Everyone.”
“Jesus, give it to us,” Tack growled.
“Vendetta. Against Chaos,” Valenzuela declared. “And who’s left in Denver who has enough history to know about the calling card a former Chaos brother used to leave who also has that kind of vendetta and who is not me?”
“Monk,” Joker whispered.
Hank stood ready to roll before Chaos did.
“This your word or you got more?” he asked.
“Tine handled the transaction,” Valenzuela told Hank. “If you can find him, he might help you.”
Tine was Monk’s money man.
And Valenzuela had forced it out of him. So if he left him breathing, he was vapor.