Ride Steady(163)

Valenzuela shook his head again but said, “No marker, then I’ll take the two miles.”

“That’s off the table, seein’ as you showed disrespect by startin’ the way you did.”

“Then no name unless there’s a marker,” Valenzuela volleyed.

“Right,” Tack shot back. “Marker with conditions. No bitches. No drugs. No felonies. Nothin’ f*ckin’ illegal. Which means no enforcement. No transportation. No muscle.”

“This leaves selling cookies, Tack, and I don’t sell cookies,” Valenzuela returned, his voice turning impatient.

“It leaves you havin’ a month of Chaos turnin’ the other way. And you wanna jump on that, Benito, and I know you get me,” Tack retorted.

Joker knew Valenzuela got Tack. Brock and Mitch were there for that reason.

Chaos was keeping their patch clean.

They were also keeping tabs. Anything they heard was fed to the cops.

Valenzuela just couldn’t know what they were—or weren’t—hearing.

The truth was, the majority of lowlifes on the street were scared shitless of Valenzuela, which meant Chaos usually got dick.

But Valenzuela didn’t know that.

“You do know,” Hank butted in, “that I’m listenin’ to this bullshit as a courtesy to men I respect. But I’m also the investigating officer on the homicide in question. So if you know a name, make your deal real f*ckin’ quick and say it or you’ll be in handcuffs for obstruction of justice.”

Valenzuela’s mouth tightened and Joker dropped his head as he fought back a smile.

Hank being there would not have been his call. As much as Lee straddled the line of the law, doing what he had to do to get done whatever job he had to get done, Hank was like Mitch. A straight shooter. He could easily give up his badge and make wads of cash with his brother.

Instead he protected and served.

Valenzuela had assumed incorrectly that Hank was one with their crew.

Tack had brought in a ringer.

So that shit that just went down was funny.

“At those fights, Chaos recently sent a message.”

At these words from Valenzuela, Joker’s head came back up.

He felt a chill slide down his spine when he saw Valenzuela’s eyes on him.

“I knew about Heidi,” he said in a creepy, low voice. “Thought you were the man who’d get her out of the life. She’d do anything for you.”

Joker’s throat closed.

He didn’t know that. He did. But he still didn’t.

Valenzuela wasn’t done.

“I let her do what she had to do. It made her happy, and Heidi did better work when she was happy. But everyone knew what she was up to. Everyone.”

“Jesus, give it to us,” Tack growled.

“Vendetta. Against Chaos,” Valenzuela declared. “And who’s left in Denver who has enough history to know about the calling card a former Chaos brother used to leave who also has that kind of vendetta and who is not me?”

“Monk,” Joker whispered.

Hank stood ready to roll before Chaos did.

“This your word or you got more?” he asked.

“Tine handled the transaction,” Valenzuela told Hank. “If you can find him, he might help you.”

Tine was Monk’s money man.

And Valenzuela had forced it out of him. So if he left him breathing, he was vapor.

Hank wasted no more time. He strode to the door.

“Hank,” Tack called. Hank looked back, still moving. “Find him before we do.”

Hank said nothing.

He walked out the door.

“I hear you’ve hung up your gloves, as it were,” Valenzuela said, and Joker looked back to him to see the * had eyes on him. “If you ever want to fight for me, I don’t mind having Chaos blood on my cement.”

Joker just stared at him.

But he allowed his lip to curl.

Valenzuela smiled and pushed away from the table, saying, “I think we’re done here.”

He was two steps from the table before Knight spoke. “Benito.”

Valenzuela turned back.

“You ever think of usin’ me to negotiate your bullshit again without you sharin’ with me you wanna negotiate your bullshit, rethink,” Knight warned.

“Sebring, you’re aware I don’t act out of the kindness of my heart,” Valenzuela returned.