Page 10 of Sapphire's Gem
I’d stake my life on the fact that they had illegal shit going on, and yet we couldn’t ever find proof. We’d searched their boats, warehouses, clubhouse, and never found anything. The one time we had footage of shit arriving, we’d stormed the place within minutes and lo-and-behold, it had disappeared. Sparrow had looked on edge that day and had been worried, but nothing had been discovered. The shipment had vanished into thin air.
“Have we dug anything up on one of their… stable?” Hatton’s mouth twisted at the word. He clearly didn’t like that the clubhouse had its own version of male club sluts.
“Nothing, they’re all clean apart from the one called Chopper. And when he was pulled in, he laughed in our faces and said Sapphire already knew. He had a lawyer within an hour of us hauling him in,” I replied, knowing Hatton was already aware of this.
“I know those bitches are up to something. They’re making a fool of us,” Hatton growled out.
Yeah, I couldn’t disagree. But without catching them up to their neck in shit, our hands were tied. As frustrated as Hatton and I were, neither of us would create evidence to force an arrest. The department was clean and would be kept that way.
“Any suggestions?” Hatton asked, and I shook my head.
“Let me think on it for a week. I’m going after this Fox, he may have given us an in,” I said and picked a file up. It was pretty light and nearly empty. Just a few sheets of information about Fox and his arrest record. His juvie was sealed, but I had a good idea of what was in it.
“Keep an eye on Storm and the clubhouse, I think shit will go down there. If Storm gets injured, the Harlots will roll out and there will be blood spilt,” Hatton said, and I nodded.
“What about that gang activity?” Hatton asked.
I snorted, and he looked at me, wondering what had amused me.
“We’ve got five in hospital. Each had the shit beaten out of them, and somebody tattooed ‘gang member’ and ‘thief’ over their foreheads,” I replied.
Hatton, who’d been taking a sip of coffee, choked and coughed. I got up and pounded his back, and he waved me away. “They what?”
“Someone or several someones beat them the hell up. They’ve bruises, cuts, broken bones, cracked ribs, and burns. Then, across their forehead, someone deeply tattooed the words ‘gang member’ and ‘thief.’ I believe it’s called carving because the tattooist literally digs into their skin. There’ll be no removing or covering it up,” I explained.
“Doesn’t Lantern from the Harlots run a tattoo shop?” Hatton asked.
“Cast-iron alibi and her apprentice and all equipment accounted for,” I said.
“Why ain’t the gang members identifying their assailant?” Hatton wondered.
“They are shit scared. Claimed the bogeyman assaulted them. All they can remember is a seven-foot black figure beating the crap out of them. Nothing else.”
Hatton stared at me incredulously. “And these are the ones who attacked businesses under Royal Harlot protection?”
“They pay dues to the Royal Harlots Security company.”
“It’s a protection racket, Wylde, we both know it,” Hatton hissed.
“They’ve got paperwork and contracts. We can’t prove shit,” I argued, and Hatton nodded.
“I know. But it’s still a protection racket. Those gang members are lucky to be alive,” he said.
“Yup. Without a doubt, they are a warning to anyone else who thinks about attacking anyone under Royal Harlot’s protection.”
“Damn it, they do good, but they’re also illegal as hell. We’ve got the law to uphold,” Hatton cursed, and I understood what he meant.
There was no doubt the Royal Harlots ran this part of New Hampshire. Anyone who crossed them disappeared. But crime was down, and that was a good thing. At least it was in my eyes.
“Follow all leads, Wylde, you’ve got my support,” Hatton said and got to his feet.
I stared out of my window and tried not to focus on a pair of soft brown eyes.
Chapter Three.
Sapphire
Itravelled towards the restaurant where I’d been informed there was a problem. Candle had called, saying a guy had been in demanding protection money. Currently, he was tied up and gagged in her office. Nice! My temper was barely constrained. Who the hell did this asshole think he was messing with? To my rear rode Vengeance, my ever-present shadow when I left the clubhouse. If it wasn’t her, then it was Dagger or Blade.
