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He could hear Thor breathing, heard him curse quietly.
“Joyce is dead. You think we give two shits how much sleep you got or whether Carney is feeling friggin’ hospitable? I’d go over there myself, but you’re a cop. The old man’s less likely to shoot you. If I show up at his door right now… Look, Rollie wants you to do this. Whatever Carney told him, we need to know. Right now.”
Right now.
The trouble with having a second job that involved illegal dealings with violent criminals was that you could never call in sick.
Izzo downed the rest of his drink. Suddenly the pineapple juice had started to taste sour in his mouth. Couldn’t be the rum.
“On my way,” he said, setting his glass down. He thumbed the button that ended the call. “Asshole.”
The drive to John Carney’s place took a little over half an hour. Izzo passed joggers and bicyclists trying to get some exercise in before the day heated up any further. He saw a woman ru
At Carney’s place, he pulled into the driveway and sat a moment, watching the house. It seemed very still, very quiet. You couldn’t be a cop as long as Izzo had without developing some intuition. His told him the place was empty, but it made more sense to think that Carney was still sleeping.
He stepped out and gently closed the door, then walked to the garage. Carney’s old Cadillac sat inside the gloomy space, dust motes spi
Izzo went to the front door and knocked, but the sound came back hollow. Nothing moved inside, no curtains were drawn back. The house itself seemed disinclined to creak. Most houses seemed to breathe, but not this one.
He drew his gun, pulse quickening. Moving around the side of the house, he looked in windows as he passed. In the back, he saw broken glass on the patio and then turned to see the shattered kitchen door.
“Shit,” he whispered, quickening his pace.
He didn’t have to go any farther than the door. The diffuse morning light reached through the window above the kitchen sink and the jagged shards of glass jutting from the door frame. That golden glow cast a sepia tone across the floor and the tipped-over chair, revealing the sprawled corpse of John Carney. Izzo spotted a single bullet hole in his temple and a pool of drying blood that made a deep scarlet halo on the floor around his head.
Whatever the old man had told his visitors, Izzo would never know.
* * *
Jax hesitated before calling home, but it had been too long since he’d spoken to Tara, and he wanted to hear her voice before the day’s violence began. No way of knowing if he’d still be standing by nightfall.
She answered sleepily after the third ring. “Hey. You’re up early.”
The tightness drained from Jax’s body, and he felt himself smile. “Sorry. Been a long night, and we’ve got a long day ahead.”
“You find Trinity?”
“Yeah. I just left her and her boyfriend.”
“What’s he like, this Russian?”
Jax weighed the question. “Jury’s still out. Seems like a stand-up guy, but being in his life could get her killed.”
Silence on the phone. Jax felt like he could hear the world breathing, there on the line.
“You still there?” he asked.
“That’s the same thing people say about me,” Tara said. “And the life you lead.”
Jax had been standing by the window in his temporary hotel room. Morning sun shone through the glass, and the small boxy room had begun to heat up. Now he went to the bed and perched on the edge, staring thoughtfully into a no-space in the middle of the room.
“I’ve made you promises, Tara,” he said quietly, glancing at the door, not sure why he didn’t want to be overheard. “I’m go
“Be safe.”
Jax bit back the words that tried to make their way to his lips—fighting the truth. How could he tell her that as long as SAMCRO was part of his life, he would never be safe? The MC was his family, looming larger in his life than anything else, almost a third parent, but it was going to kill him one of these days. He did not intend for that day to be today.
“What’s happening there? The boys okay?”
“Abel has a low fever. Nothing to worry about,” she said. “Some kind of virus that’s going around.”
“Good thing his mom’s a doctor,” Jax said. “I’ll see you all in a couple of days.”
A few seconds ticked by in which Jax knew Tara was busily missing him as much as he missed her. Things had changed between them while he’d been in prison. Tara had been hardened by his absence, and he couldn’t help thinking she was keeping something from him. Something that troubled her deeply. He kept waiting for her to tell him.
“Would I like her, this sister of yours?” Tara asked.
“I figure chances are fifty-fifty. Either she’d be the sister you never had, or you’d want to kill each other. Neither of you puts up with bullshit.”
“Two alpha females in one room can get tricky.”
Jax gri
“Come home and I’ll show you.”
He laughed quietly. “Couple of days, babe. Then I’m all yours.”
“Okay,” Tara relented. “I hope I get to meet Trinity.”
A knock came at his door. “Babe, I’ve gotta go.”
“I love you. The boys love you,” Tara said.
“Kiss them for me,” Jax told her. “See you soon.”
He ended the call as he went to the door, not bothering to draw his weapon. They were in the lion’s den here, among people who had tried to kill him and Opie, totally exposed, but he had to count on them having mutual interests right now. They wouldn’t do anything stupid—he hoped.
Jax drew the door open to find a wary looking Chibs standing in the hall, one hand on the butt of his gun.
“Opie’s back with the bikes. We’re all set,” he said, and then gestured over his shoulder. “And you’ve got a visitor.”
Oleg stood behind him with a gleaming black assault rifle in his hands. Jax’s thoughts raced as he wondered how fast he could drop his phone and reach for his own gun. Then Oleg held the assault rifle out to him. “Call it a peace offering.”
Jax blinked, tossed his cell phone onto the bed, and took the assault rifle. Incredibly lightweight and shiny black, it had a long, curved magazine.
“What is this?” Jax asked. “Never seen one.”
“Nine-millimeter TsNIITochMash. Subsonic bullet speed. Silencer. It will punch through body armor at four hundred meters. Very new and very difficult to smuggle into this country, but Oscar Temple had several of them.”
Jax felt the light weight of the gun in his hands, testing its balance. He preferred a handgun and knew from the glint in Chibs’s eyes that he would have liked this monster for himself, but it would have been an insult for him to pass it on. Oleg was trying to break the ice between them.
“Thank you,” Jax said, and meant it. “I’ll put it to good use.”
Oleg nodded, unsmiling. “I’m sure you will.”
He began to turn away, but changed his mind and glanced up at Jax again. “Kirill will not say it—particularly because of the strife between our people and your club—but we are both glad you are here. The reinforcements will be helpful. Perhaps these mutual interests we have will make us friends.”
“Or at least not enemies,” Jax said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Oleg nodded grimly, completely missing Jax’s attempt at humor. Russians, he thought.
“Listen, Oleg, about one of our ‘mutual interests.’ You know Trinity has to stay behind today. She won’t like it, but—”
“It will make her furious,” Oleg agreed, “but she must at least suspect it. You could leave one of your people here with her, but we will need every man when we go up against Lagoshin.”