Nyx clenched his jaw before he lifted his hands and scrubbed them over his face. “Rex told you everything we know. About Craig Lacey, the cop who framed Quin. How he’s the son of a guy who’s running for Mayor in West Orange... there’s nothing else, man. Nothing else we know about anyway.”
Gritting my teeth because I believed him, I strolled into the den of lions and took a seat next to Nyx. I felt the tension edge up in the bikers, almost like they expected me to pull some kind of stunt, but that wasn’t my intention.
Instead, I leaned back, rested my head against the wall and muttered, “These fuckers need taking down.”
For my pains, I received a bucket load of grunts as I stared straight ahead. Forrest was on edge thanks to my location, but I ignored him after the initial glance, preferring to just stare at a damp spot on the ceiling.
“Are you working on that?” Nyx asked softly, twisting his head to look at me. He was leaning forward, his elbows stacked on his knees, looking like a mixture of The Thinker and a tormented soul in hell.
Considering the MC’s name, I thought that was more fitting by half.
“We are,” I confirmed. “You?”
“We have Lodestar on it. I think she keeps in touch with someone on your end.”
I hummed under my breath. “My biggest concern is them being everywhere and us not having a pin on any names. Craig Lacey’s practically a beat cop he’s so fresh with a detective shield. What the fuck kind of information are they going to spew the way of a shitty detective who’s only three years into the job and keeps making mistakes?”
“What kind of mistakes?” Nyx asked.
“Guess.”
He shot me a dark look. “Racist prick.”
“You got it.”
“He’s still an in.”
I shook my head. “Not really.” We weren’t going to waste time on one of the sheep when we had the Mayor ripe and ready to pluck. Not that I was going to tell Nyx that. Instead, I just informed him, “We’ve had him under surveillance.”
Forrest cleared his throat. “He appears to be a low level runner. At best, a courier. He’s been crossing the state lines a lot in an SUV that he hires from the same car rental place over in Brooklyn.”
One of the guys, the one Indy had been huddled up against, rumbled, “He has a ride of his own?”
Forrest nodded. “So the SUV shouldn’t be necessary, but he pulls these runs every few weeks.”
“Drugs?” Nyx queried.
“We don’t know. Since we learned his name, he hasn’t hired a car.”
“Because he knows you’re aware of him?”
“No,” Forrest dismissed. “It’s not time. He has a pattern. When he does, we’ll make sure to sweep the car.”
“Would it be likely he’s carrying drugs? Why use a new detective?” Indy’s man argued.
“Who the fuck knows what they’re doing,” Nyx muttered. “We have to start somewhere.”
I pursed my lips, unwilling to tell him about my in with NYC’s Mayor, especially when I was about to start stretching my fingers where that particular hypocrite was concerned.
“We’re on it, but it’s imperative we work together.”
“Agreed,” Nyx rumbled. “Lodestar seems to believe that there’s no high-ranking or low-ranking NWS member.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Just telling you what I’ve been told.” Nyx shrugged.
“I think you’re wrong,” I said softly, not wanting to cause offense. “At least, I hope you are because that makes them even fucking harder to contain.”