“Each charge, of which there are two, carries a maximum penalty of five years in prison and a $25,000 fine. And it’s clear that the recent shooting at the track played into the judge’s decision,” Walter added. “He was being a real hard-ass.”
Hearing the possible jail time at stake was like getting hit in the gut. With a goddamned baseball bat. “Who’s the judge?” Maverick asked, his instincts waving a red flag.
“His name’s Harold Brennan.”
Mav met Caine’s ice-blue eyes and could almost see the same questions in the other man’s eyes. What was the likelihood they could discover a connection between Brennan and Slater? What were the chances that Brennan was in Slater’s pockets, just like the mayor and Davis? Better than average on both counts, Maverick would bet. Fuck.
They’d sure as shit find out.
Walter passed on a little more information about what would happen from here and they hung up.
Mav rose to his feet and scanned his gaze around the room. Every man’s face was more angered and outraged than the last. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. Caine, you handle getting a private detective on this right fucking now.”
“I’d placed some calls this morning,” he said. “I’ll nail one down right away.”
Nodding, Maverick looked to Phoenix. “Hire out whatever work remains on Creed’s house. I want you taking over the carnival preparations immediately. Jagger didn’t go through all this trouble on the club’s behalf so that everything could fall apart three days beforehand, so we can make sure it goes off without a hitch until we can get him home again. And call in whatever help you need. Nothing is a bigger priority.”
“Consider it done,” Phoenix said, a deep scowl in place of his normally playful, smart-ass expression.
“I can help,” Cora said. Phoenix gave her a nod.
“What about the licensing inspection?” Bear asked. The inspector was set to arrive at two o’clock, and they’d learned he wouldn’t be alone. An inspector from the environmental crimes unit would be joining him. Who’d have ever thought that would be one of their problems? On a sigh, Mav looked at his phone. They had ninety minutes.
“You and I will handle that,” Mav said to the older man. “Given what’s happened, having two executive board members present might help smooth this situation over. And I want another pair of ears there to make sure we’re clear on how to mitigate the environmental damage and begin the cleanup.” Bear nodded.
Jesus, this was the last thing they needed when they were trying to repair their reputation in the community. Fucking Slater. Maverick wanted to wrap his hands around the other man’s throat and watch the life slowly squeeze out of him.
“Rodeo, I want you to set up a perimeter watch . . .” Mav’s words trailed off as the command reminded him of something he hadn’t thought of before. “Fuckin’ A.”
“What is it?” Caine asked, his tone on edge.
“Good news. Maybe.” He met his brother’s intense gaze. “Remember how the Hard Ink team hacked in to the traffic cameras when we were keeping lookout for Haven’s father?” Nods all around. “I wonder if they could go back through the footage and find anyone coming or going from the area of the drag strip?”
“Fuck, that would be good news,” Phoenix said. “Worth asking.”
“I’ll make the call. The rest of you, get to it,” Maverick said, meeting the gazes of each of his brothers. “And watch your backs. It’s probably Slater, but maybe it’s someone else. Either way, we know for sure that someone’s gunning for us. And we can’t afford another hit.”
TWO LONG, TENSE, busy days later, Maverick found himself at the track with Phoenix and a bunch of other Ravens helping to organize the carnival. The company had arrived this morning to set up the rides, games, and food trucks. The weekend was supposed to be a scorcher, so they’d hired a tent company to put up a couple of big tents to throw shelter over rows of picnic tables, and those were going up, too.
As for their part, the Ravens were setting up cones to direct traffic in the big parking lot, hanging signage, stringing lighting, roping off areas inside the track where the public could meet and take pictures with the drivers, and otherwise answering a thousand phone calls and questions and putting out fires whenever they arose. Trying to take the heat off of Dare, Maverick had been fielding the phone which wouldn’t stop ringing. Only good thing was that being busy made the day fly by. And helped distract him from the fact that Jagger had now been sitting in jail for three days. The injustice of it ate at him like a parasite.
Pausing in the shade under one of the tents, Maverick answered another call. “Maverick, it’s Cynthia.”
Surprised, he leaned back against a table. It had been years since Alexa’s mother had last called him, and then it was usually only to track Tyler down because he wasn’t answering his cell. “Mrs. H? You doing okay?”