She drifted back to sleep with a smile on her face.
* * * * *
“You happy to be back?” Moose asked, leaning against the bar. The boys were unwinding with a small party at the club. It was the first time he’d been among them since he’d returned from his run. It felt good.
“Yeah, I did.” His gaze followed Juliette as she stood in the corner with Boston and Nola. Every time they came to a club event she blended a little more seamlessly. Soon it’d be like she’d always been there. He liked the thought.
“She won’t disappear if you look away, you know.” A new voice came from his left.
“Funny, Specs. What’s going on?”
“I actually found something I thought you might be interested in.”
He finished off his beer and placed it on the bar. “About Stant?”
“Yeah, it’s taken me a long time to unravel the red tape. Whoever he had on this was good.” Specs’ face bore a grudging look of respect.
Waving his hand, Shooter caught Juliette’s attention and gestured toward the office down the hall. She nodded and he turned to Specs.
“Show me.”
Leaving the loud music and crowded space behind, they entered the office. Specs removed a flash drive from his pocket and handed it over.
“It’s all there, man.”
Plugging it into the laptop, he then opened the file. “What am I looking at?” Pulling up the folder, he clicked the different files, opening them and minimizing so they were all displayed.
“Very expensive payoffs to three women each about a year apart during Stant’s time in college.”
Shooter’s eyes threatened to bulge out of his eye sockets. “One hundred thousand dollars a pop?”
“I’m thinking that money came with a very carefully worded non-disclosure agreement,” Specs said.
“These are the girls?” He enlarged the pictures. Each girl looked different, two brunettes, one blonde. Their height, weight and facial structure varied. The only thing they had in common appeared to be their youth and humble beginnings. Fresh out of high school and from families that probably struggled to put food on the tables, they’d been ripe for the picking. Stant must’ve seemed like the Prince Charming to their Cinderella. “The bastard’s been preying on young girls for a long time.” Shooter shook his head. Scrolling down, he found the girls’ current addresses.
“You don’t think we should contact them, do you?” Shooter glanced at Specs.
“No, not until it becomes a last resort. What else do you have?” Shooter shook his head.
“A lengthy list of transactions between him and some very important people, and some corresponding emails. The shit’s fucked-up, man. They talk about women the way we talk about guns,” Specs said.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, this would easily put him away. You want me to get Maverick on it?”
“No, we don’t actually want to follow through.” Shooter shrugged. “We just want to punk him out. See how it affects him.” There were two kinds of bullies. Those who’d do whatever it took to upkeep their rep and others who crumbled under pressure like a cookie dunked in milk.
“You have a plan, don’t you?” Specs asked. His large blue eyes stood out in his tan face. In his early twenties with a slender build, Specs resembled a high school teen playing dress up. Born into the Lords of Mayhem he’d grown up in the lifestyle and earned a college degree in electronics while he prospected.
“Yeah, I think we should give him a dose of his own medicine. Send him a little love letter letting him know we’re very aware of his unacceptable behavior and it’d be a shame if something like that leaked to the public. It could ruin careers, make stock plummet.” He tsked. “Daddy wouldn’t like that, and the last thing a rich boy like him wants is to be on the outs with his daddy. Then who would bail him out when he fucks up?”
“You think that’ll be enough?”
“I have no clue. I’m trying to see what the man’s made of.” He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he was just as skeptical as Specs.
“What do you need me to do?” Specs asked.
“Make me up another thumb drive and add this letter I’m making up now.”