Page 71 of The Biker's Second Chance
“You bring me my merchandise?” His eyes flick to the women in the corner behind Lash. The girls we rescued, shaken but alive. They’re here for show, nothing more.
I set the duffle on the table between us. “Got what you asked for.”
He chuckles, “You know it takes a lot of fucking gall to go up against me but I guess I can respect your ambition. I used to be like that. Now let's get down to business. I've got clients waiting for these women and your constant interference is costinmg me money. So tell me how we can work together. I already have the product and the clients, what can you give me to justify asking for a cut?”
"Security." I say matter of factly as I continue looking around the room taking count of the guards that are here. I'm waiting for more to come in or for one of these guys to check in with someone else. None of that happens.
This bastard really is here all on his own. What a stupid fuck.
"I already have security." Xavier waves his hand in the air dismissing my idea.
"No, you had security. In case you haven't noticed but we already got rid of all your people down by the docks. Honestly, how long do you think you'll be able to throw these parties around town before someone like us rolls through and takes you for everything. It's already happened and it was only a handful of us. You're just prey ready for the slaughter." I smirk at Xavier, trying to keep my resentment off my face. It's hard.
Xavier looks around the room as if he is thinking, "You're right. Thanks to your brutish ways I am a little light on security."
That's exactly information that I was looking for.
"Exactly and no one does business around here without us knowing about it. Chrome Creed runs this town."
Xavier stares me down. Leo and the rest of my brothers tense but they don't make a move.
That slimy smile expands on Xavier's face and I know I've got him. He reaches out his hand to shake mine. "You've got yourself a deal. It's better we do this now anyway. You cleared out all of my stock. I'll need to re up soon."
Finally, the last piece of the puzzle.
He doesn't have any more women stashed away. We've saved them all.
Now to cut off the head of the snake.
I lean forward, resting both fists on the table. “You think I came here to be your partner?”
He grins wider. “What else? You don’t have the brains for anything else, Spike. You’re thugs. Muscle. Dogs waiting for scraps. You want money? You want power? You need me.”
Leo growls low, but I shoot him a look. Not yet.
“Funny thing,” I say, keeping my tone calm, almost bored. “We cleaned out your docks. Took your girls. Took yourpaperwork. Phones. Invoices. I’ve been making calls, Xavier. You don't have anything I need. You don't have anything anyone needs.” I stand and look down at him, the smile on his face lessening. "You're business is over."
"The hell it is. You don't know who I'm connected to. I have very important clients. People that I can call who will make your life a hell on earth." He threatens.
"Really? Are you sure? I'm thinking you're on your own. No one is going to have anything to do with you."
His smirk twitches. “You're bluffing.”
"Am I?"
I reach into my kutte, pull out my phone, and hit speaker. The first number dials, rings, then clicks. A man’s voice, crisp, professional.
I already know how this call is going to play out. While I was getting ready in the clubhouse, I already had Leo and several other brothers calling these so called important people. We laid it out flat, either they stopped kidnapping and abducting girls in our area or we would give every last piece of information, including the invoices, photos and the women's testimony, we had to the authorities.
Xavier was right when he said he had high level clients, some of them deep into politics, others in high society with more money than anyone should ever have. The only constant between all of them is they were all more than willing to denounce Xavier if it meant not having to deal with the cops. He just isn't as needed as he thinks he is.
“Mr. Mendez,” I say, staring Xavier dead in the eye. “Still doing business with Xavier Cortez?”
A pause. Then: “I don’t know any Xavier Cortez.” Click.
Xavier shifts in his seat, licking his lips.
Next call. Another voice, thick accent. “No. No ties. Tell him to never call again.” Click.
