When she heard the front door close, she slowly got up and went over to Asher, who stared at the door. “That was one of the strangest conversations I’ve had with a potential client in a long time,” she said.
Asher laughed. “Face it, Cara… you’re a magnet for nutty clients.”
She sniggered. “True. I better get some work done. Five o’clock comes fast.”
For the rest of the day, she worked up a few cases, her mind drifting back to Garret and his questions. For a split second she wondered if he might be the Crazed Grinch, but she quickly gave up that thought. He didn’t strike me as someone who could mastermind something so calculated. He seemed very high-strung.
After a few hours, Asher poked his head in. “I’m taking off. You want to walk out together?”
Glancing at the clock, she nodded. “Give me a few seconds to finish this paragraph. Oh… did you get a copy of that weird guy’s ID?” The policy in her office was to take a copy of any potential clients’ IDs, as well as those clients who retained her services. Some bad experiences from her past taught her to make sure she knew up front with whom she was dealing.
“I did. I was pretty surprised he gave it to me. It didn’t have his address or anything, just a picture ID with his name. It was an old one. He told me it used to be his ID at his job before he was laid off. It’s real hard to make out his last name, though. When I asked for his last name, he started to freak, so I backed off.”
“Please make me a copy.”
Fifteen minutes later, she headed in the direction of her parents’ house. After she spent some time talking to her mom, she strapped Isa and Braxton in their car seats and closed the door.
“Cara,” her mother yelled as she ran outside, clutching a sweater around her. “I forgot to ask if you, Hawk, and the kids can come over for the family pre-Christmas dinner. I’m hosting it this year, but your Aunts Teresa, Lucille, Maryann, and Carmella are helping with the cooking.”
“I can’t believe you’re hosting it. How did that happen?” It was a family tradition on her dad’s side to bring the aunts, uncles, and cousins together for a pre-Christmas dinner. It had been part of her upbringing, and Cara looked forward to it each year. Sometimes it was the only time she saw her family who lived out of town. She knew her mother hated having all of her dad’s relatives over for the big dinner and tried to find excuses to back out of doing it every time her turn came up.
“Your Aunt Carmella made some smart cracks to your dad, and we’re having it here. I can’t wait for it to be over.”
“Considering you haven’t done it for the past seven years, you got off pretty easy. I’ll bring over some food. I’ll call you and coordinate it. I’m thinking of doing it next year at my house.”
“Unless you’re pregnant.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “You’re just as bad as Hawk. Count us in, and see you soon.”
As she drove home, Braxton pounded on the back window. “Mommy, look how pretty that house is. It has so many lights.”
Cara glanced to her right, then turned the corner and slowed down. The whole street was lit up like a Las Vegas casino. She smiled as Braxton excitedly pointed out reindeer, elves, snowmen, and a slew of other characters. As she drove around the neighborhoods, a few of the houses were over the top, and she wondered if the Crazed Grinch had targeted the homes. As the thought went through her mind, a patrol car slowly drove past the houses.
Taking the next left, she headed home, glad they lived in a guarded and gated community.
Chapter Nine
Rock
Rock stared at the slumped-over body tied around a tree trunk: sitting down, tied at the waist, legs spread. A large amount of blood pooled under the body, staining the snow a dark crimson. If Rock hadn’t recognized the chest tattoo of a busty blonde holding a frothy beer mug, he never would’ve known it was Sketcher, his face beaten that badly.
“Fuck. They did a number on him,” Jax said, kicking the ice with his boot.
“And they cut off his balls.” Rock bent down and tugged the dead man’s pants up. “He didn’t fuckin’ deserve this.”
“I hope he was dead when they did it. I put a call in to Hawk and Banger. We gotta find out who did this.” Jax pounded his fist into the palm of his hand.
“I know he planned on making a buy to find out who was dealing the shit. I told him to call me. When I didn’t hear from him, I figured he either chickened out or it got canceled.” He stood up and stared down at the broken body. The chance that the dirtbags had made Sketcher as an informant had niggled in the back of his mind and was the reason he’d come out to that wooded area of Crenshaw Park; it was known for drug dealing.
“The fuckers left him like this as a warning to other. We gotta beat their asses.” Jax spit on the ground.
“It’s a damn act of aggression toward the club. Last thing Sketcher told me was that he heard some dudes had hooked up with Satan’s Pistons and were vowing revenge on the Insurgents and Night Rebels. We can’t let this pass,” Rock said.
“Sketcher had a mom in town. She should know he’s gone.” Jax stomped his feet on the snow-covered ground.
“Banger will take care of it. That’s the kind of shit a president does.” Rock took out two joints and offered one to Jax. He lit both of them, and the two men stood looking at Sketcher, their heads bent, the smoke billowing above them.
The crunch of tires made Rock look behind him, Hawk and Banger walking toward them.
“What the fuck happened? Weren’t you monitoring his buy?” Banger asked Rock, his eyes fixed on the beaten man.
“I told him to set it up and call me so I could watch out for him, but I never heard back. That’s why I came looking for him.”
“Fuck!” Banger’s voice echoed between the trees.
It was a gloomy afternoon, and Rock looked around the empty park. It was as quiet as a mausoleum, and the bare trees with just ice and a dusting of snow clinging to their branches looked grotesquely eerie against the backdrop of lethal violence.
“We gonna move him out?” Jax asked.
Hawk pursed his lips, shaking his head.
“The fuckin’ badges will find him. Eventually. I heard his mom was staying with a sick friend,” Rock said.
“More like she was in detox,” Hawk retorted, turning away from Sketcher.
“Probably. I know she’s had a rough time of it. Should be home now. I’ll go by her place tomorrow and tell her about her boy,” Banger replied.
“Unless the fuckin’ badges beat you to it,” Rock said, putting his gloves on.
“Then I’ll offer her the sympathy of the club. We gotta find who the fuck did this, slice off his balls and cock, and feed them to him.”
Rock went down on his haunches and rifled through Sketcher’s pockets, making sure there was nothing in them that was incriminating against the Insurgents. All he found was some spare change and a crinkled photograph of Sketcher with his arm around a young woman. He shoved the picture back in and stood up.