Page 49 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“Has he asked for a lawyer at least?”

“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation, but rest assured, sooner or later, I will be back with a warrant. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on the place, just to make sure you don’t remove any potentially incriminating evidence.”

I laugh hard. “Knock yourself out.” I can’t let him see anything other than nonchalance. At the slightest sign of distress, it’ll be like a shark catching the scent of blood in the water. “And if you’re hungry, you should order our lunch special. The burgers are something else. On the house, of course. The full Federal discount. Have a great day.”

Walking back toward the clubhouse, I can feel his glare drilling holes into my skull. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this bastard catch me looking back at him.

Once I’m back with my guys, I give Jagger and Knox a hard, dark look. “We need to pay that so-called Rider a visit. The sheriff should be able to tell us where they’re keeping him. I doubt he’s in the Portland field office.”

“No, he’s probably local,” Jagger says. “I’ll find out. Who’s the guy?”

“Terrence Mason,” I say. “Terry the Menace. He was wearing our patches when the DEA busted him with a truck full of heroin.”

Jagger chuckles. “The Menace…”

“Yeah, I know, it’s fucking ridiculous.” I shake my head slowly.

Fortunately for us, Sheriff Johnson comes through rather quickly with a confirmation of Terry’s whereabouts. Knox and I pull up outside the Harland Correctional Facility, giving our inside guy a minute to check his phone and read my text message. Twenty minutes later, he escorts us into the prison.

“Thank you for doing this, Bill,” I tell him as we follow him through the main corridor.

“Least I can do after all your help,” he says, using his security guard pass to get us through a series of secure doors before we reach the first level cells. “Lorena and the kids say hi, by the way. They’re looking forward to the next Easter egg hunt.”

Knox chuckles softly. “They loved it, huh?”

“All that chocolate, brother? It took them about a month to finish it,” Bill says. “Granted, Lorena made sure they didn’t raid the whole stock in one go.”

“Smart woman,” I say. “So where’s Terry?”

“Right down that hallway,” he replies, opening another door for us. “It’s where the DEA boys have us keep their catch of the day, as we call them.”

“Does anyone know we’re here?” Knox asks. I glance around. It’s pretty quiet at this hour.

Bill notices my concern and smiles. “Relax, Diesel. The inmates are out in the yard, and most of my colleagues are with them. This is a medium-risk facility, not much happens around here, especially with the DEA constantly coming in and out of the building.” He looks at Knox. “And no, they don’t know you’re here. You asked me to keep it on the down low, so I did.”

“We don’t want to get you in trouble,” I say.

He shakes his head. “You’re just here to talk to the guy, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then no trouble as far as I’m concerned. Go. Talk to him. I’ll be right here, watching your six,” Bill says.

I give him a soft nod and head to the end of the corridor, passing several cells. Some of them are empty, others have a single occupant. By the looks of it, they don’t get yard privileges likely because they’re here on a temporary basis.

“I think they’re trying to flip them,” Knox says, almost reading my mind.

“Hence why they’re not letting them out in gen-pop. It makes sense. But you know what doesn’t make sense?” I ask, going over our previous interactions with Spalding. “He didn’t tell us who the guy was until I asked him earlier. Why is that?”

“Maybe Spalding knows this guy isn’t one of ours.”

“Or maybe he thought we’re keeping members on the down low. You know he’s already gone through all of our public records by now,” I say.

“Either way, it’s interesting, I’ll admit. Makes me all the more curious to see what Terry has to say.”

We reach the last cell. “Well, you can ask him yourself.” We find the guy sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through a magazine. “Terry the Menace. As I live and breathe…”

“Who the hell are you?” Terry asks, but as soon as he sees us, he recognizes our patches, and the color drains from his freckled reddish face. “Oh, shit.”

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