Page 9 of Riggs
"Hey! What are you doing over there?" McGregor looks past my shoulder in Kiwi's direction. His face turns a nice shade of white. "Is he recording me? Turn the camera off," his voice breaks with nerves.
"No. I don't think we will." Stepping further to the side, I look at my brother. "Kiwi, you keep that camera rollin'." McGregor makes a motion and reaches for his nightstand. Fender advances toward him, and the lawyer throws his hands up.
"Look, I'll pay. I have the money. Just take what it is you want and leave." His voice cracks knowing he's in some deep shit, with no shovel.
I loathe men like him — powerful, influential men with money, who abuse it. "How do you think the great citizens of Texas would react knowin' their potential Governor likes dippin' his wick in barely legal pussy?"
McGregor sticks out his chin, defiant against my words. "She's twenty. Still, you can't show that video."
Taking my time, I stroll across the room, take a seat in his high-priced leather chair, spread my legs, pull a cigarette from my cut, strike a match on the bottom of my boot, and light a smoke. Cocking my head, I eye him for a beat. "It's not your little girlfriend's age that has you shittin' your pants right now, is it?" I take a pull from the cigarette. "You don't want people knowin' you're fuckin' a judge's daughter." I flick some ashes to the floor. "You seem to have gotten yourself into a hole you can't dig out of." His face falls, and his eyes dart across the room to where the young girl is standing, her face cast down looking at the floor.
"What is it you want?" McGregor asks nervously.
"Word is, you've been fuckin' with my brothers. I'm gonna assume you weren't bankin' on how far of a reach The Kings have." Giving him a pointed stare, I warn him. "Know this motherfucker; there ain't a place on earth The Kings can't touch." My cold words reach their mark as I watch McGregor gulp. Standing, I drop my cigarette to the floor, snubbing it out with my boot. "Besides ATF, you got any more surprises for my friends?" I question him. He nods.
"Yeah, I reported my piece of shit son's girlfriend to immigration. Sam is nothing but a fuck up and a disappointment to his family." The moment the last word leaves his mouth, I'm across the room, knocking him unconscious with a single blow to the side of his head.
"Shit, Prez," Fender moves up beside me; we stare down on McGregor. Fender shakes his head. "Damn shame to have an old man as cold as him."
"That's not a man. That right, there is a spineless pig, who hides behind his money." My attention shifts to the young girl left standing on the opposite side of the bed, softly sobbing. "Go on and get dressed. We'll walk you out." I go easy on her. She has seen enough, more than she should have. She picks up her things and heads toward the en-suite bathroom. "And just so we're clear on a couple of things," The young lady stops and her eyes slowly lift to mine. "One; you're better than this." I point to McGregor, who moans a few times as he starts to come around. "Better than this asshole. Two; I wouldn't go talkin' about what happened here today. You go on with your life as if you never knew this piece of shit, and you never saw us." I warn her, and tears start streaming down her face. She nods, then disappears into the bathroom.
"What do we do about him?" Kiwi asks.
"Fender, cuff his ass to the bed. Kiwi, I want you downstairs seeing what dirt you can find in his office." The young girl walks back out fully clothed. "Take her with you. Babysit her. I don't want her leaving the property until we leave with her." I turn and look back at McGregor. "We'll be down just as soon as we finish with our new lawyer friend here. And send the video and those pictures to Jake's man, Reid."
"Already sent."
"Good."
Without questioning my motives, Kiwi guides the young woman out of the room. "What are you thinking?" Fender waits for my next move. Grabbing a pair of handcuffs, I noticed laying on the nightstand, and I use them to cuff McGregor to the bedpost. McGregor starts to wake; his eyes roll back in his head a few times before they finally settle on me.
"I'll make sure you and the rest of that club of yours rot in prison," he spits.
"You won't do shit. This is what is going to happen. You'll leave The Kings, and anyone associated with us alone, or that little video my man recorded earlier will find its way to the inbox of every local news station in Texas. We've got much more shit on you, so just in case you think you can sweep something under the rug remember that little fact. I got a guy down in your office as we speak. Pretty sure he'll find a little more dirt while he's in there." McGregor's eyes widen, telling me I'm right. He yanks on his cuffed wrists, and I turn to leave.
"You can't leave me here like this," he looks down at his naked body, half covered with a bedsheet. "You'll be sorry, you piece of shit," he yells as I make my way toward the door. I pause.
"Prez," Fender notices the look in my eyes. He knows I don't take kindly to threats — of any kind. Spinning on my heel, I pull my weapon from the safety of its holster, and before McGregor can blink, I have the end of the barrel firmly pressed between his eyes.
"Shit — shit — okay — okay," he pleads.
Without saying another word, I turn and walk out of the room. I look over at Fender. "He has staff members who should be here in a few hours. One of them will find him. Make sure the judge's daughter didn't leave anything behind. I don't want her caught up in anything, should something fall back on us. We leave no other evidence we were here."
"Got it."
Just then, my phone vibrates inside the inner pocket of my cut. It's a blocked number, so it can only be one person. "Brother," I answer.
"What you got for me, man?" Jake asks immediately. I look over my shoulder at the man lying on the bed.
"McGregor won't be a problem anymore," I state, then add, "tell Reid to check his email. Kiwi sent a little present." With that, I hang up.
After taking care of business, we leave the room and make our way downstairs, finding this guy's office, and run into Kiwi in the process. "Shit, sorry, Prez," Kiwi takes a step back. I notice he has a file folder in his right hand, and the girl standing behind him. "Found some good shit in there," he lifts his hand. "This guy has dirt on just about every important figure in Texas."
"Let's get out of here. Did you clean the surveillance feed?" I ask as we exit through the back door, we entered in.
"No one will ever know we were here," Kiwi confirms.
I send Kiwi and Fender down the driveway where the bikes are parked in the woods so we wouldn't be heard earlier and walk the young girl to her car. She opens her door and slides in. Leaning down, I ask her, "McGregor have something on your dad?" She hesitates to answer me. Her lips quiver and she finally explains.
"I thought I could sleep with him, get some dirt on him. Play him at his own game." She wrings her fingers together. "I would have taken it all the way today if you and your friends hadn't busted in." Her eyes lift to mine, tears streaming down her face. "I guess I should be thanking you."
"You remember what I said before. No, talkin'."
She nods. "I swear I won't say a word."
Looking over my shoulder, I can see the guys in the distance waiting for me. I look back at her. "Get on out of here." Taking a step back, she closes her car door, starts the engine, and pulls away. I watch her car disappear as I'm walking down the driveway. Mounting our bikes, we take off, back toward the other side of town.
