“I want her back. I don’t care how many men it takes, you get her back,” I yell in his face. He stares at me as if I need to be put away.
“I’ll find her,” he says.
Edge walks in, his hair clearly signaling he also just got up. “The Feds are here.”
I literally have to steady myself because are you kidding me? Today? They pick today when I probably need to be sedated? Instead I take a breath. “Tell them I’ll be right there and get Amy back. Tell her I’m sorry… and I’ll make it worth her while.” I’m going to have to eat shit. Doesn’t matter if I’m the president—you don’t fuck with Amy or her kitchen.
“Did you hear about Eve?” I hiss as I take the stairs two at a time.
“Yes.” He looks at me. “And I’m on it.”
I don’t have time for a shower, so I slather on some deodorant and brush my teeth, then at the last moment grab some Visine.
When I burst open the door to the conference room, two dark suits are talking to each other. One is a tall black guy and the other is a normal-sized Hispanic guy. I almost laugh because this is literally a joke. I can’t take them seriously. All my thoughts are consumed with Eve.
“Can I get you guys anything? I’m Jason McCormick.” I hold out my hand. They look at my outstretched hand, shake it, then smile and take a seat.
“Actually, if you have some coffee, I’d love it,” the Hispanic guy answers.
“I do. How do you take it?” I pull out my phone and text Amy, looking up to see his answer.
“Just black.”
“Perfect. I’m assuming that I don’t need my lawyer?” I sit on my throne and cross my hands in my lap.
“Jason, I’m Agent Raul Diaz and this is Agent Devon Deckard.”
I raise an eyebrow. Devon Deckard really? I stay quiet, biting my tongue so as not to make a Blade Runner reference.
“We’re only here to talk. I’m sure you heard that a house that you own in Hemet burned down?”
I stare at them—both are wearing cheap black suits. “Again, I have texted my lawyer who is on his way. But if we’re only having coffee…”
“We’re only having coffee, Jason.” Deckard smiles, hands outstretched.
Amy barges in carrying two cups of coffee and a glass of water.
“Thank you.” She rolls her eyes and leaves. The agents look around the conference room.
“Cool sign.” Raul points to the vintage Bud Light sign.
“So.” I lean forward and sip. “Why are we having coffee together? Usually I have coffee with Agent Stevens.”
Raul sips his coffee. “Well, Agent Stevens is taking some time off. Apparently he can afford it.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “Nice. Good for him.”
Agent Deckard clears his voice and opens up a folder spreading out a bunch of eight-by-ten photos of the compound in Hemet: the burned-up lab and Doc and Sandy, along with numerous Disciples.
I look down at the pictures. “Now, see right away this looks like my lawyer should be present.” I look over at the door opening. Ryder and Axel enter, showered and appropriately dressed.
“Agents, these are my business partners, Axel and Ryder. This is Agent Deckard and Agent Diaz. We’re having coffee.”
“Nice.” Axel pulls out a chair and crosses his arms.
“Yeah, anyway if we wanted this to be official, you would already be in our office. But since we’re new, we wanted to see if what we have is correct.”
I lock eyes with Deckard. “O-kay.”
“So you grew up here?”
I snort and look at the Coca-Cola clock. “Yes.”
“And your father, brother Chuck, and a cousin David McCormick, his girlfriend, and his one-year-old daughter were all in another explosion—one that killed everyone but David?”
Silence. The clock ticking is all I hear.
“That was a sad time for my family. Is something going on with David?”
“We don’t know. Just wondering why things seem to blow up so much around you.”
I reach into my pants pocket and pull out my smokes. Lighting one up, I say, “Bad luck.”
“We see that you were in the military at that time. Navy SEAL?” I inhale deep and the nicotine burns all the way to my lungs. “Yes, we all were.” They look at Axel and Ryder.
“Why did you come back? How come you didn’t re-enlist?”
My eyes narrow, and I shrug. “My mother needed me. Again, I’m sorry, but this sounds like we’re getting away from coffee.”
“Okay, Jason, we’ll cut through the bullshit.” Deckard smiles. “We know who you are. We know how much money you have. How many men follow you. And we know that was your drug lab that burned to the ground.” He stops and looks at us.
“We’ve talked to Doc and Sandy and they’re both in rehab, so we thought we might give you some friendly advice.” He stands up and throws his card on the table. “We are not Agent Stevens—we can’t be bought. Sooner or later, we’re going to nail you. Kids are dying. That shit you guys have gotten rich off of goes through my community and quite frankly, I’m sick of it.” They both turn to leave and none of us stands. “You might have gotten away this time, but everyone eventually gets caught.”