Roman’s teeth gleamed against his bronze complexion. “Don’t know, Prez. I don’t follow news outside the great state of Mississippi. But, meth is damn dangerous stuff.”
Har opened his mouth to tell them they needed to hold church, but the front door opened and a police detective, Travis Dennizen, stood in the doorway. Dennizen stood around five-foot-eight, but had the build of a tank. Rumor had it, his shirts had to be custom made for the width of his biceps, as well as the girth of his chest. His brown eyes were set wide on his face, while his cheeks were angular, giving his face a hard look. He kept his hair so short, Har wondered if he went to his barber every week.
Today he wore a slate-gray dress shirt with charcoal slacks, his badge well displayed on his black belt. While the Biloxi police force had many detectives, only three of them were black –Dennizen being one of the three– and two were Hispanic.
Of all the detectives who could visit the Riot MC, Dennizen was the last one Har wanted to see because he was most likely the best detective on the Biloxi PD.
All three men’s bodies went tight, but they hid their reaction from the visitor.
“Can we help you, officer?” Block asked, turning on his good ol’ boy charm.
Dennizen let the door close behind him, keeping his eyes on them. “Looking for two of your members. Furman Pollard, you know him as ‘Massive’ or ‘Mass,’ and Norris Strickland, better known as ‘Wreck.’ They in their rooms?”
Har stepped forward, shaking his head.
“No, sir. I’ll open their rooms for you to peek in, but they haven’t been around the past two days.”
Dennizen’s lips shifted as he took in Har. After a moment, he shook his head.
“No, I think I believe you on that. In fact, I get the feeling you don’t know where they are.”
He kept eye contact with the detective and intended to remain silent, but thought better of it at the last minute.
“You’re very intuitive, Detective Dennizen. Wreck and Massive have missed two meetings now, and we dropped by their places looking for them last night.”
Dennizen nodded, but said nothing.
Har tucked his hands in his pockets. “There a reason you’re looking for them?”
The detective half-way mimicked Har’s stance, putting one hand in his pocket and stroking his chin with the other. “How about Layla Gauthier? She around, by chance?”
Something in the detective’s tone shifted and he thought the man was fishing for information, but Har didn’t show he picked up on it. “No, sir. Last time I saw Layla was Sunday night.”
He was pushing it with the lie, since they had let Layla go home Monday before noon, but he wasn’t about to give the detective more information than necessary.
Dennizen gave him a long look, then looked behind him to Roman and Block. “Any other members around this morning?”
Roman sidled up next to Har. “Sorry, Detective, just the three of us. Not many brothers spend the night here during the work week.”
A small smile tipped up the detective’s lips. “Glad you brought that up. Har, why are you here, first thing in the morning? You’ve got your own house and word on the street is that you stay there nearly every night unless it’s the weekend.”
Har smiled. “I’m having some work done, sir.”
The detective raised an eyebrow. “What type of work?”
He dipped his chin as his smile dimmed. “Extermination and A.C. work. Seems a rat got into my place. It ate a hole in my duct work, crawled inside and died. The stench is awful, and my electric bill was triple since I was cooling my attic.”
“Don’t envy that, but you’re not using ‘rat’ as a euphemism for Layla Gauthier, are you?”
Har furrowed his brows. “Why would I do that?”
Dennizen looked to Roman and Block. “Layla’s body was found this morning by her sister.”
Har let his facial expression fly, and he suspected his brothers did, too. “You mean, Layla’s dead?”
Dennizen nodded.
“Was it an accident?” Block asked, his good ol’ boy attitude still in place but far more somber.
The detective gave him a hard look. “If it was an accident, I wouldn’t be wasting taxpayer dollars talking to you three.”
From the corner of his eye, Har saw Block hang his head before he murmured. “Sorry, sir.”
Dennizen focused on Har. “Either of those two men show up here, call me. I might be spittin’ in the wind sayin’ that, but a woman’s dead. The least you and your club can do is let the law handle it.”
Har dipped his chin. “You have a card, Detective? I’m not sure you’re in my phone.”
Dennizen gave all three of them his business card and left.
Har let out a sigh. “Fuck.”
“Want me to round everyone up?” Block asked.
“Yeah,” he said staring at the front door. “Ro, were you serious? We’re the only brothers here?”
Roman chuckled. “Fuck, no. Glad to hear I’m convincing. Tiny stayed last night, Cynic’s here, so are Mensa and Gamble. Hell, I think the only brothers who left last night were Brute and Two-Times.”
Har snorted. Two-Times got his name because of his actual name, Samuel Samuels. It wasn’t just the double names but also because Brute was already a member, and his given name was Samuel Vaillant. Two-Times hardly ever spent the night at the clubhouse. If he got soused during a patch-in, he called for a ride. It puzzled the hell out of all the brothers because most of them lived to be on their bikes, but Two-Times was all about being with the brothers. He had his bike, but having it as his primary mode of transport wasn’t required. He was as close to an enigma as the chapter allowed and Har wondered why the hell he wanted anything to do with them. Yet, the man could not only take care of himself in a fight, but he
