Page 21 of Devil's Queen
“I couldn’t find any more information about this incident. Either the digital age of videoing everything failed us, or the authorities are taking them taken down before I can find them,” Maya says, her voice tinged with frustration. “But I think it’s safe to assume the truck was targeted. Those men didn’t seem to be there for a friendly chat.”
“Has the client reached out?” Harlow asks.
“No,” I answer. I considered calling his personal assistant, who had set up the order, but until I know for sure that the bike is gone, I have decided to wait. Confirming whether the bike is still in the truck is our priority.
Maya’s phone rings. She draws it up to her ear, listening to the caller on the other line. The call is brief, lasting only a minute or so.
“Thanks, Mickie. I really appreciate the call.” Maya ends the call with a despairing look on her face. “They found the box truck.”
“It’s gone, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Mickie said the truck was empty.”
“And the driver, Rick?”
“The victim, I’m afraid. They’re calling a press conference at three o’clock to announce his name. His family has been informed.”
“Fuck!” I roar. My fist hits the table hard in front of me.
“Why would they come after the bike?” Tinley asks, looking at the rest of my club sitting around the table. “Who would have known it was being moved outside of you and the client?”
“A couple of the shop guys, Brady and Big Mike. They got it ready for the pickup yesterday.”
“Could they have said something to someone?”
“To who? Big Mike is a recluse outside of the shop, and Brady basically lives here. If they were up to something, I’d have noticed it a hell of a lot sooner than now.”
I lean back in my chair, contemplating the situation. The silence in the room is oppressive, the weight of what has happened bearing down on all of us. The realization dawns on me that this is much bigger than we initially thought.
“Listen,” I say, breaking the heavy silence. “We can’t keep standing here, pointing fingers and speculating. We need to find out who did this and why.”
I turn my attention to Maya. “Gather as much information as you can about the incident. Look into any possible leads or connections that might help us figure out who’s behind this. We need answers.”
Maya nods, her expression focused and resolute. “Consider it done,” she says.
As for Brady and Big Mike, I make a mental note to talk to them personally. I’ve known them for years, and I trust them implicitly. If there’s any inkling they might be involved or have inadvertently leaked information, it will be up to me to find out. “I’ll question the shop guys. We need to contact our network to see if anyone has heard anything about this incident or if any rival groups might be involved. We need eyes and ears everywhere.”
“I have some contacts I can reach out to,” Cheyenne mentions. “If this were a hit, they’d be able to find out.”
“Do it. The more information we can gather, the better.”
Tinley shifts uneasily in her chair. She leans forward, hands clasped in front of her on the table. “No one has mentioned the elephant in the room, so I will. Could this be the new president of the Zulu Kings making their first move against us?”
“No,” I answer flatly.
“You seem pretty confident in that answer, Remy. You know him, right? Would you care to elaborate on that for the rest of us?”
I hadn’t intended to bring up Rex or his visit, but Tinley’s backing me into a corner. None of them know about my past with him. I’d kept that hand close to my chest for a reason. The only thing the club knew was that my dad was the former president, and Wolff cast us out. They didn’t even know that Rex was Beaux’s dad. It’s probably time they did.
I take a deep breath. “Rex was here this morning.”
Cheyenne’s words are sharp and bitter as she spits them out. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It was a surprise visit.”
Harlow’s voice chimes in, curious and skeptical all at once. “And what did he want with us exactly?”
Their eyes dart back and forth, searching for answers not readily available. The tension in the room is thick, each word spoken with caution and uncertainty. “Not with us. With me,” I admit. “I told you I knew him, but there’s more to our story. He’s my ex.”