Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2) (2 page)

They didn't speak of anything until they were down in the basement; there were too many people partying upstairs. Buster waited until they were seated. The ride back had given him time to think about what he was going to say. “I'm beginning to think that we've got a problem. Either there's a bad batch of something out there or something new. Wayne is the fourth overdose I've heard of in the past few weeks. We all know where the majority of the drugs in this town come from, the Street Kings. We need to know what we're dealing with or more people are going to die.”

“Manuel is not going to take kindly to us poking around and asking questions,” Danny pointed out. “Especially if we're implying that he's putting out the corrupted drugs.”

“I'll talk to Manuel,” Buster replied. “He's a reasonable man. If it's part of their supply, they need it found or they're going to run out of breathing customers. For now, while I set up the meet with him, let's see if we can't figure out who was dealing to Wayne and what his last purchase was. Sound good?” Everyone agreed. If they hadn't, it would have gotten taken to a vote and any misgivings voiced. One thing Buster was adamant about was every single man having his say. “Alright, everyone get out of here. I'll see you all in the morning We're going to have a busy day.”

Buster waited until he was alone in the basement to send a text message to the only number he had for Manuel. He'd get a message back with the time and place to meet, he was sure of that. It could take days or it could take an hour, depending on what was going on. There was no way he was waiting around the bar for it, though. He was ready for some real sleep in a real bed, in his bed.

Before he got home, he received a message back that Manuel would meet with him in half an hour down near one of the closed industrial parks. The quickness of the response was all he needed to know that his hunch was dead on. Buster debated calling someone to join him for the meet and decided against it.

The relationship with Nightshade and The Street Kings had once been an alliance, back in Buster's prospect days, even if it was an uneasy one. There had been a falling out between the two groups shortly before Royal had taken the lead. He and Stark, the previous Street Kings president, had hated each other. That hate had cemented the rift.

The day after Buster took over, Manuel had shown up at the bar. He'd been alone, unarmed and looking for a conversation. He'd suggested that the two groups put the past in the past and move forward. The city was crumbling around them. Manuel had suggested that they'd all be better off if they could not only co-exist but cooperate.

Nightshade had taken the offer to the table. There was resistance at first. Train had a longstanding feud going with Hector. Ace had once slept with Manuel's sister. The bad blood ran deep, but in the end, they'd voted to go ahead, with the caveat that if the Street Kings crossed them, they'd run them into the ground. But nothing had gone bad. Things had been smooth enough that Buster had no qualms about riding in alone and barely armed. He only had one gun with him, cleverly hidden in bike's storage compartment, and didn't bother to take it out when he got parked next to a black SUV.

The Street Kings were more a street gang than an MC. Not all of the members rode. Manuel hadn't been on a bike since he'd laid his down and nearly died. Buster caught sight of him close to one of the abandoned buildings.

Manuel turned as he approached. The man look tired, but it was the middle of the night. “Buster, it's good to see you.” They embraced with a brief one-arm hug. “I was just thinking about reaching out to you when I got your message.”

Buster wondered why but decided to focus on what was happening right now. He got right to it. “Wayne Chandler died tonight. It looks like an overdose. Before he died, he tore his place up and broke in the apartment upstairs. He went after the woman who works for him, but she locked herself in.”

“Caroline?” Manuel frowned. “She okay?”

“She's good. You know her?” Buster didn't know why Manuel knowing her name made something flare inside of him. Baked was a popular place, and Caroline was a beautiful woman, more than that, she was as sweet as the treats she baked.

“Yeah. My old lady loves that place. She has me stop in most days to pick up something.” Manuel explained. “She's sweet, always asks about her and the kids. Anyway, Wayne doing all that doesn't sound like him. Sounds like a bad trip. They've been going around, apparently.” He let out a dry laugh.

“Heard about a couple that ended with death. You know something I don't?” Buster asked.

“I've lost two guys, Cross and Denny. They liked to party. Always joked that there wasn't a drug on the planet they hadn't tried. Last week, the got their hands on something new. Killed each other in Denny's basement with the contents of his tool chest. Never seen anything like it.”

“Jesus Christ.” Buster couldn't imagine losing two men to one another. “Do you know what they took?”

“No. I do know it didn't come from my crew. They were clear it was new, and in case it wasn't, I had everything tested. It's not a bad batch. It's some new shit that's showing up, and it's not ours.”

“Who's pushing it?” Buster was inclined to believe Manuel. He'd always had a strong radar for when people were bullshitting him. Manuel wasn't.

“That's the problem, I've got no clue. There's been whispers on the streets for a while about a new crew. No one knows anything for sure, though. I was inclined to think it was an urban legend. Obviously, now I'm not.” Manuel's expression grew serious. “Cross was my cousin. I'm going to find out who these fuckers are and blow 'em off the map. Figured that Nightshade might want to join in the fun. This is about more than cooperation now, Buster. We need to work together on this one. The Kings are going after them either way. Talk to your guys, see what they say.”

“I'll take it to them first thing in the morning.” Buster wouldn't promise anything about how the club would vote but he had a good idea which way it was going to go. There really just wasn't enough room in town for another crew. “I'll reach out right after.”

“I'll be waiting for your call. Ride safe.”

Buster remained in the warehouse complex after Manuel's SUV was long gone. The quiet night he'd imagined wasn't going to happen. There was too much on his mind for that. Eventually he got back on his bike. He took the long way home, past Baked, where he didn't see any lights on. Disappointment rolled through him. If the lights had been on, he'd have stopped.

There was a reason that the guys liked to bust his balls about Bakery Girl. Even if she hadn't shown any overt interest in him, he had an interest in her. It was why he managed to find his way into Baked at least twice a week.

Chapter Two

Caroline Anders let herself have a good cry right in the middle of her trashed everything room. She called it an everything room because mostly everything was in one room. It was her living room, dining room and kitchen. The bedroom was only big enough to fit her double bed and a small dresser. A few things had survived, mostly furniture. Anything made of glass or with glass was smashed. Her television. Her laptop. Even the small snow globe collection she'd had since she was a child. It was the loss of the globes that had pushed her over the edge.

True to his word, Buster had someone replace the door early that morning. He'd called her and told her she could go home. All Caroline had been able to do was thank him again and again. She felt a bit silly that she couldn't manage a real conversation, when she talked to him almost every day at the bakery. She'd almost asked him to come with her but that seemed ridiculous. It wasn't like she was in any danger, she just didn't want to be alone.

But she was, and she'd make the best of it. Jillian had told her to grab more clothes and come back, that she was welcome to move in if she was willing to help out with the rent. Caroline was willing. The money that she'd saved would allow her to do so for several months if she lived modestly. Hopefully that would be enough time to find a new job.

A knock at the door startled her. “Who is it?” Caroline called out.

“Detroit Police Department. Open the door.”

“Fuck.” Caroline felt the beginning of a migraine coming on. The only reason that the cops could be at the door was because of Wayne, and they were no doubt going to have even more questions when they saw the state of the room. Instead of prolonging the inevitable, she walked over to the door and swung it open wide.

“Hello, Caroline.”

“Detective Harris.” Caroline bit back her sigh. “Something I can help you with? As you can probably tell, Baked won't be opening today.”

“I noticed. All smashed display cases and holes in the wall. Want to tell me how that happened?” Harris asked with a smile.

“You'd have to ask Wayne for specifics. I'm pretty sure he was having a little indoor batting practice from what I heard.”

“And what happened in here? And can I come in?” Harris stepped forward even as she asked the question. Caroline stepped back only because the woman would have hit right into her if she hadn't. Knowing Harris, she'd call it assault on a police officer. She had no intention of being led away in cuffs.

“Sure, why not?” Caroline shrugged her shoulders.

“What happened up here?”

“Wayne happened.” She watched as Harris prowled around the living room. “He broke down the door. Got in here. I locked myself in the bedroom until he left.”

“He just up and left?”

“His phone rang first.” As she spoke Caroline realigned the details of the night before in her mind. She'd tell a sanitized version of the truth, one that didn't include Nightshade. It was common knowledge that Harris had it out for the club. She wouldn't give her even a crumb of information to fuel her obsession. “I grabbed a change of clothes and went to spend the night with a friend.”

“You didn't call the police?”

“Last time Baked got robbed, which was about two weeks ago, I called the police. They took two hours to get there. Figured I shouldn't waste my breath,” Caroline replied. “If that's all, I was in the middle of something.”

“It's not all. Wayne Chandler was found dead in the alley next to the old dry cleaners. Do you know anything about that?”

“Dead?” Immediately the thought occurred to her that Buster and Nightshade had found him and were behind his death. It was a good thing that she'd self-edited her story.

“Yes, dead. Overdosed. You seem surprised?”

“Of course I'm surprised,” Caroline replied. She was also relieved that it wasn't murder, that the call she made hadn't been the reason a life was ended. The things that she knew about Nightshade told her that they were alright guys, she didn't fear any of them, but she'd heard enough stories to realize that they weren't all sugar and spice.

“You're surprised that he overdosed after seeing him as high as a kite?” Harris snorted out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Seen him high as a kite before, he never overdosed then.” Caroline tried not to sound defensive, but Harris made her feel very defensive, very on edge.

“When he got this alleged phone call, did you hear anything that might tell you anything about who he was talking to?” Harris demanded.

“No. I couldn't make out what he said. I heard the phone, heard him answer but he wasn't near the room door, I guess. Also, I was pretty much shit scared, so I wasn't exactly up for eavesdropping.”

“I'm going to give you my card. I want you to think, very hard, about what was said in that conversation because right now, you're the last person to see him alive.”

“You just said he overdosed, why does it matter? Or are you changing your mind, maybe it wasn't an overdose. Oh wait, maybe you're starting to think that I killed him,” Caroline demanded.

“Did you?” Harris countered. “Because if that's what you want to tell me, I can take you in right now. Maybe there were extenuating circumstances. Maybe he didn't just do a number on your place, maybe he did something to you and you wanted payback.”

“Maybe you should start taking your meds again, Detective. I'm no killer. I can't even kill spiders, and I hate spiders with a fiery passion. I think that this conversation is over. I'd like for you to leave.”

“I didn't mean to offend you, Caroline.” Harris changed her tone. She sounded almost friendly, almost like she actually cared. “I'm just looking to make sure no one else dies. Don't you want that too?”

“Of course I do, but I don't know anything that can help you. I didn't hear the conversation. I'm sorry.” Caroline wasn't going to fall for that shit. She'd never liked Harris, and the list of why just kept getting longer and longer with every interaction that they had.

“We'll talk again, soon.” Harris made it sound like a promise. “I can see myself out. Oh, one last thing, who fixed your door?”

“I called a contractor this morning.” She wanted to slam her new door right in the detectives face but she didn't. She was proud of her restraint.

“Which one?” Harris asked with narrowed eyes.

“I've got the card around here somewhere. I don't remember the name. How about if I call you with it when I find it?”

Harris chuckled. “I won't hold my breath for that call.” She walked out and left the door open behind her.

Caroline had her chance to slam the door then; although it might have been childish, she did just that. It didn't help as much as she'd hoped it would. She sighed, sank down on the couch and let her hands tremble. For a moment she did nothing more than sit there. Finally she reached for her phone, dialed Buster's number. “Hey. It's me, Caroline.”

“I know. You okay?” She heard concern in his voice, and it made tears rise in her throat.

“Can you meet me? I'll be at the community garden on Beech in like twenty minutes. Is that good for you?”

“I'll be there.”

“Thank you.”

<#<#<#<#

There was something about being in the garden that calmed her. Maybe it was from all the happy memories associated with digging in the dirt. Each spring she'd joined her mother and grandmother to make rows and plant seeds. It was all fresh air and sunshine, laughter and the glasses of iced tea that her mother made them.

This spring there had been no yard to make a garden in, so she'd found this place. She got a four-by-four patch of land to do with what she wanted. The entire garden was built on a lot where the existing apartment building had been razed. Now nature had taken it back over.

Caroline was planting carrot seeds when she heard the sound of a bike on the street. She didn't look over, she kept planting. She felt Buster standing behind her and saw his shadow over hers a moment later. “Hey.” She turned her head to him. “I needed to keep my hands busy.”

“You said that you needed to talk?” Buster surprised her by sitting down on the grass next to her and picking up her stack of seed packets.

“Harris came to see me. She was there to ask about Wayne. I guess the autopsy results came in or whatever because she said he overdosed. It's not a huge surprise with all things considered, but her coming there...it threw me off.”

“She was just trying to scare you, Caroline.”

“No offense, but that's easy for you to say. Right now, I've got a lot to be scared of. First off, I've basically lost my job and apartment. Jillian said I could stay with her, and that's great, but that's still rent. Even with my savings I....” She stopped herself. “And I'm doing nothing but complaining to you. Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. You've got a lot of weeds in your yard right now, that's for sure. But you're tough, you'll make it.”

“Tough?” Caroline laughed at that. “I'm not tough, Buster. I'm just... You know what, forget it. I just thought that you should know what Harris said about Wayne. I know that she's got a real hard-on for Nightshade and she's bat-shit crazy.”

“You're right on both accounts.” Buster tapped the seed packets against his knee. “So, what are you planting besides the carrots?”

“Some summer squash. Cucumbers. Tomatoes.” Caroline looked over at him. “And this can't be interesting to you.”

“Why not? I used to garden a little, but I've been busy the past few years. Haven't had time for it. There are some strawberry plants in my back yard that keep coming back year after year. Oh and the pumpkins in the trees in my back yard.”

“Pumpkins don't grow in trees.”

“They do when their vines crawl up the trunks and into the branches. It's true. I swear. Once they start growing, I'll show you,” he offered. “Any chance you know how to make a pumpkin pie?”

“Sure, you open a can of pumpkin goop and...” Caroline trailed off with a laugh at the look of utter horror on his face. “Relax, of course I can make a pumpkin pie. I can make any kind of pie.”

“How did you learn that skill?” he asked.

“My grandmother loved to bake. She was always baking something, and she taught me. I never figured it would have anything to do with my professional life, but then I saw the ad at Baked.” Caroline concentrated on the carrots again. “Why do you ask?”

“I believe it's called making conversation.”

“Oh, right.” Caroline took making conversation to mean being polite. Buster was very polite, always had been. He also tipped well and asked her how she was and always seemed to be interested in the answer. “What do you normally do with the pumpkins since you don't seem to know how to make a pie?”

“Shoot them,” he replied without missing a beat. “With a bow and arrow. Have you ever shot a bow?”

“Me? I've never shot anything besides a water gun or a video game.”

“Well, if you want, I'll show you how to use the bow so you can shoot some pumpkins, too. It's pretty fun. You do like to have fun, right?”

“Who doesn't like to have fun?” Caroline countered.

“Miserable people don't like having fun,” he replied. “In fact, they tend to suck the fun out of everything and everyone around them.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I knew from the first time I met you that you weren't a miserable person.” Buster leaned back and rested his weight on his hands.

“How?” Caroline stopped planting and shifted so that she could see him better. It really was a great view. He had a headful of dark hair and a full beard to match. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair. There were fine lines around the sides of them. If she had to guess, she'd put him in his mid-forties, which was about ten years older than her.

“Do you remember the first time that we met?” His voice drew her out of her thoughts. He smiled and Caroline was forced to look away. “I bet that you don't.”

Caroline remembered. He was hard to forget. She'd grown up just outside of Detroit, so she'd heard stories of Nightshade from the time she was a teenager. She remembered the thrill of her and her girlfriends when as teenagers they'd seen the men riding on the highway. “I remember.” He'd come into Baked on gray morning when all she'd wanted to do was go home and get back in bed. The sight of him had woken her right up.

“So do I. I knew right then. It was in your smile. It'd be nice to see that smile now.”

Caroline felt a quiver go through her entire body. “If I didn't know better, I'd think that you were flirting with me.” She felt her face flush even at the words. Flirting had always been like a foreign language she couldn't quite master no matter how hard she studied.

“I'm pretty sure I am flirting with you. Pretty sure that you're immune to it, though, because I've been working at it a while.” He was smiling at her. He had a great smile, but it was his lips that caught her attention. They always did.

Caroline knew that she needed to say something. Anything, but the words wouldn't come. She tried but stuttered so badly she wanted to be swallowed into the earth out of complete embarrassment. He watched her the entire time and looked amused. If he laughed at her, she would die. She was sure of it.