Chapter Fourteen
Givon grabbed the phone and punched the line on hold. “Hello, this is Sheriff Halloran.”
“Hello, Sheriff, I’m Captain Bruce Buckner with the Cheyenne PD.”
“Thank you for returning my call. I’ve recently discovered the burned-out shell of a car and the VIN was traced back to a woman named Merrie Walden. I was informed through a third party that you have a detective in Destiny investigating and I’m slightly disturbed that I’ve yet to meet this detective.”
“Clark hasn’t checked in with you?”
“No, sir, he hasn’t. I’ve called the number on his cell but I’ve not been able to touch base.”
“My detective is working on the case,” Captain Buckner assured him. “He’s investigating you, so it’s possible he’s gathering evidence.”
“Evidence? Need I remind you I am a sheriff of another county? Some common courtesy is demanded. Why don’t you inform me what’s going on, Captain?”
“We had a call come through about a woman allegedly assaulted by a biker. The woman was informed the Destiny police force was…ah…on the take and she shouldn’t expect help. So I sent one of my detectives down to assess the situation. He should have come by to inform you of this.”
“Yes, he should have,” Givon stated. “Bikers?”
“Yes. Clark works organized crimes.”
“Do you happen to know the name of the biker?”
“Sorry, Sheriff. I don’t. Clark hasn’t reported in.”
“Isn’t that unusual?” Givon asked.
“Not if he’s in the midst of investigating a known outlaw biker gang.”
Givon didn’t agree with that at all and this was turning out to be a whole lot more complicated than just a burned-out car. Except now, he knew the first person he was going to question.
“If and when you get in touch with your detective, Captain, would you have him give me a call?”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
* * * *
Givon waited by his truck, standing on one of the Laramide uplifts overlooking the Wind River Basin. It was one of the most beautiful places on Earth and he considered himself fortunate that this was where he’d grown up. The sound of another vehicle coming up the narrow single road had all his senses on high alert.
The truck came to a stop and the engine turned off. A door slammed and Givon turned his head as North Tabion walked up to him. North intimidated people. The air around him practically vibrated with authority and his blue eyes were cold enough to freeze fire. A bandana hid most of his blond hair. Givon saw his reflection in the man’s mirrored sunglasses.
“You rang?” North drawled in a deep gravelly voice. It matched his outward persona. A Red Wolf strip encircled the bottom of his leather cut while dark jeans and a white T-shirt hinted at the muscles under his big frame. A chain for his wallet attached to his belt and tattoos peeked out from under one sleeve.
“I’ve got a Cheyenne detective somewhere in my jurisdiction inquiring about a woman who was allegedly beaten up by a biker,” Givon said without preamble.
“The hell you say?” North grumbled.
“What the fuck is going on, North?”
“Who’s this detective?”
“I don’t know,” Givon said with a frustrated sigh. “I called his captain and he hasn’t heard from his guy either. So let me tell you what I have—a report on a woman being beaten, bikers are involved, my department’s on the take and a burned-out car belonging to a woman named Merrie Walden. Does any of this ring a bell?”
“Fuck,” North muttered. “It’s not us, man. I swear it.”
“Well if it’s not you then it’s the Demon Devils.”
“The double Ds are scum,” North told him. “There’s no love lost between us and them.”
“I know that. Can you keep your ears open? Let me know if you hear anything?”
“Sure,” North said. “You know I’m trying to turn the gang around. Most of us don’t want to stay on this outlaw path. That’s why they voted me into the presidency when Old Patch died.”
“I know,” Givon said quietly. “And I’m glad. I’ve always hated us being polar opposites. You’re still my best friend.”
North gave him a playful shove on the shoulder. “Don’t get all mushy on me. My dick doesn’t do men.”
“Asshole,” Givon swore as he turned to stomp back to his truck. “Doing me would rock your world. Make you immune to the charms of women. But hell if I want that kind of commitment from you, you pervy bastard.”
“Love you too,” North called out and then laughed.
Givon flipped him off as he started his own truck. He maneuvered around North’s, leaving his friend behind. They’d grown up together, both victims of abusive dads, leaning on each other to survive the horrors. Once they’d hit high school, they began going in different directions. Givon had been determined to become a cop so he could put men like their fathers’ behind bars while North had started hanging out with the local biker gang, the Red Wolves.
Even with all the bullshit between an outlaw gang and the police, they’d managed to maintain their friendship, although very few people knew they were still talking to each another. And when North had come to him earlier in the year—after he’d become the gang’s new president—to tell him that the Red Wolves were going legit, Givon had given him all his support.
He felt better talking to North, knowing his friend didn’t have a thing to do with the trouble involving Merrie Walden. Now it was time for him to talk to the other biker gang.
North waited for Givon to drive away before pulling out his phone. He hit a number and listened until the call went through.
“Yeah, Boss?” Draven, his VP, asked.
“Meet me at the Demon Devils’ bar on Route 18.”
“Trouble?”
“Always with those bastards.”
He hung up and headed toward his truck. His truck was old and he wanted to preserve it for as long as possible. As he made his way out of the mountain pass and back onto the road, he thought about whom he could contact to find out what the Devils had been up to lately.
Sometime later, he saw Draven’s bike parked on the side of the road hidden within the tree line. It was the typical place they used when they wanted to spy on the other club.
Draven dismounted his bike and walked over to North’s passenger door, hopping into the truck with ease.
“What’s going on, Boss?”
“I think we have a big fucking problem on our hands,” North said grimly.
“If it involves the Demon Devils, I’m not surprised. They’ve been a big fucking problem for the past twenty years.”
“They beat up a woman and implicated Givon’s office, stating it’s on the take.”
“Givon’s office is not on the take.”
“I know that and you know that, but if the Internal Affairs Bureau gets wind, Giv’s job could be on the line and the Wolves have come too far to let some investigation bullshit fuck everything up. Now, who do we have who can get us some Intel on what they’re doing?”
“Reaper’s at Rawlins,” Draven said. “I think the Devils have a few guys on the inside. Could stage an interrogation.”
“I don’t want Gray Dog getting wind that I know anything.”
“You know how prison is, Boss—lots of alone time.”
North nodded. “I want you to handle this personally, Draven. Givon’s my best friend, although only you know that.”
“I hear you, Boss. I’ll head out to Rawlins now. I should just make visiting hours.”
“Good.”
Draven exited North’s truck and headed to his bike. The man roared out on his run. North would be damned if he let anyone fuck up what his club had worked so hard to achieve. If the Demon Devils wanted another turf war, then he was going to be prepared.