Chaos series by Kristen Ashley
That was a surprise.
“You’re shittin’ me,” Joker said.
“No,” Tack replied. “He’s got somethin’ to say and he wants a sit-down to say it. Whatever it is, Knight agreed not to cave his head in and instead act as mediator.”
“What he did to Heidi, we’re here, we sayin’ we’re not gonna cave his head in?” Joker asked and went on before any of them could answer. “And if that’s true, why?”
“Knight says he makes a convincing case he didn’t do it,” Tack said.
“Bullshit,” Joker bit out.
“You know Sebring’s no idiot,” Shy said quietly.
He did know that.
Fuck.
But if Valenzuela didn’t do it, who did?
Joker looked to Hop and Shy before turning his gaze back to Tack. “This is the sit-down I think it is, not sure why I’m here, brother. I’m not a lieutenant.”
“’Cause a woman had your name carved in her stomach,” Hop stated, and Joker looked back to him.
That was good enough reason.
Joker nodded.
“Let’s go, but Joke,” Tack started and Joker gave him his eyes. “Knight wouldn’t lead us into an ambush, either verbal or otherwise. There’s a reason we’re here. But Valenzuela is a wildcard. He wouldn’t blink at fuckin’ Knight’s good intentions to do something to bare the beast in any of us. So whatever that motherfucker has to say, do not give the beast to him. Keep your shit tight.”
Joker nodded again.
They moved the rest of the way across the space and into a hall to a door that had one of Sebring’s boys, a man called Live, standing outside it. They made nonverbal greetings as the guy opened the door, and they headed up a set of stairs that led to Sebring’s sound-proofed office.
Like Tack said, Knight was there, as were Mitch, Slim, and Hank, as well as Knight’s right-hand man, Rhashan Banks.
Greetings were extended, and they just got done with that when Rhash’s phone buzzed. He looked at it and then to Knight.
“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.”