Chapter Eighteen: Confidence Boost
Bones
I had a plan. It wasn’t a sure thing, but I had confidence in it. The next day, I found myself on the top floor of the hotel, heading for an office. I had hoped to get a meeting with the owner of the Red Stone Hotel and Casino, thinking that the more prestigious the source, the better, but the only person I could get a meeting with was a man named John Boyer. He was the manager of the whole place, which made him Harper’s boss.
Dressed in a tailored suit, the man was tall and thin. His salt and pepper hair brushed back off his forehead. He stood when I entered his office, extending his hand to me.
I immediately appreciated the respect he showed me by standing and was impressed by the strength of his handshake. “Thanks for meeting with me,” I said.
“Of course, Mr. Stone. Please, take a seat.”
I planted myself in the chair he indicated, taking a look around. The view out the windows was the kind of thing people paid big money for. I could see for miles down the beach. The deep blue of the ocean was calming to watch. I’d been told by Harper that John had specifically requested that his office be located here since most of the staff offices were down on the ground floor. He must have been highly valued by the company, because they complied, so the top floor of this hotel consisted of two massive suites and this room.
The office looked large, with an informal sitting area of two white couches, and an old school setup of a side table with a couple of glasses and a bottle of amber-colored alcohol. I didn’t spend a lot of time in fancy offices like this, but even I knew it wasn’t a common setup at work these days. But I supposed a man this successful could do whatever he wanted.
The desk separating the two of us was huge and made of dark, solid wood. The top of it meticulously organized, with the closed laptop lined up with the corner of the desk, and a single stack of papers in front of him. There were also two picture frames on the desk, but they were facing him, so I didn’t know who was pictured there, but Harper had told me he was a family man, so I could make an educated guess.
“Call me Bones, please,” I said.
“Okay, Bones. I’m happy to be called John.” He relaxed back into his office chair, his elbows on the armrests as he looked at me with curiosity in his eyes. “I get tired of everything being so formal, anyway. Now, I’m rather curious. So, please, tell me what you wanted to meet about.”
I appreciated that he wanted to get straight to business. I’d never been a fan of wasting time on pointless small talk. “Well, John, I think that you must know by now that there’s a problem in your casino.”
“You mean the drug problem?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I have certain intel that I think might be useful to you. Perhaps you’d even like to pass it on to someone else. The police, for instance.”
That piqued his interest as his eyebrows popped up. “I see. And if you have this information, why not just go to the cops yourself?”
At first, that had been my idea. It seemed obvious once Harper mentioned the police to me, but I hadn’t even considered it before. It was so ingrained into my mind to see the police as the enemy that it hadn’t occurred to me to involve them before. But there would be a credibility problem if the information came from me. I hated how people had a biased view of me and the other members of Rebel Saints because we were a part of a motorcycle club, but it was a reality I had to accept and deal with. “Any police department in a city with a motorcycle club is going to be naturally suspicious of them. I don’t like it, but I’m a practical man. I understand how the world works, and I know that a man like you, that holds your position, is more likely to be taken seriously. Especially, since the source of these drugs is a rival club of Rebel Saints.”
John didn’t say anything for a period of time that seemed to stretch on forever. Or maybe it felt that way because his eyes were studying me so intensely, like he was trying to see right through me. When he finally spoke, he leaned forward, folding his hands on the top of the desk. “Okay. I can accept that. Tell me everything.”
I filled him in on the bad history between the two motorcycle clubs and how I knew that Devil Riders were responsible. I was laying it all out for him, with the hope this would be the solution to the problem.
John listened without interrupting, but he did jot down a few notes on a legal pad he’d pulled out of his desk drawer.
“In order to avoid violence,” I went on. “I think that the only course of action is to call the Glenam police and have them raid the auto shop that Devil Riders uses as their base of operations,” I finished, crossing my ankle over my knee and resting my hands in my lap while I waited for his response.
John tapped his pen against the notepad, looking thoughtful. “I have to say, I disagree with that last part.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think Glenam PD is going to cut it. Let’s send a message. I have a contact at the DEA.”
That was interesting. “They’d be interested in this?”
“I think so. You say that Devil Riders has connections to a drug cartel that brings their product from out of the country. That’s very interesting to a federal agency like the DEA.”
This was more than I could have hoped for. I pushed aside the feeling that snitching was wrong and stood, shaking his hand again.
“I’ll make a phone call and I’m sure it’ll produce results,” John said, giving me a smile. “Thanks for coming in like this. It’s a relief to know that a man like you is looking out for trouble.”
“A man like me?” I asked, curiously.
“You’re a leader, something that can influence others. It’s a quality I can appreciate, being in this line of business. Consider my door open to you from now on.”
I smiled. I wasn’t sure if this was a sincere offer, but I decided I liked John. I left the office, feeling like this was a successful meeting. I made a mental note to thank Harper for giving me the idea since I now felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.