The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) (8 page)

"I thought you said rabies was a virus?"

"It is," returned Nithya, "but the presence or production of bacteria may interact with or be a side effect of the virus. What we know is that killing this bacteria inhibits the enhanced abilities of lycanthropes." Nithya looked to Boyd. "Marshal?"

The man opened a desk drawer and withdrew a magazine for Maxim's police-issue Glock. "Fifteen silver .40 caliber rounds." Marshal Boyd tossed the mag over and Maxim snatched it from the air.

"No shit."

The detective pushed out a bullet with his thumb. The jacket was made of copper but the slug was indeed the dull color of unpolished silver. Maxim played with the weight of the ammunition as he bounced it in his hands.

Nithya sat in silence for a moment as Maxim admired the novelty, then continued. "Tagging a werewolf with these will slowly cause it to lose any advantages it has in strength. Left with the same inherent biology as the rest of us, the werewolf would be just as susceptible to damage."

Marshal Boyd chimed in to translate. "It isn't the silver that kills the werewolf. It's the bullet. The silver just allows it to be killed." Maxim listened intently. "Silver solids in the blood are said to have the maximum impact. Make sure to target the heart."

Maxim took a deep breath as he let all of this new information sink in. Just two days ago he was being yelled at for monitoring Sycamore Lodge. Now, after questioning the Seventh Sons president, he was being introduced to a CDC agent overseeing them. The responses were disjointed and the detective couldn't make sense of it.

"So," he said, sliding the round back into the magazine, "what am I supposed to do with this?"

 

"Detective Dwyer," said Nithya, crossing her hands in her lap, "I am well aware of your motivations in this case."

Maxim looked cautiously at the woman. The last thing he needed was for the marshal to know he was looking for Lola again. In the absence of anything to say, he just stayed quiet and let Nithya keep talking.

"The Seventh Sons is a tightly knit group. They protect each other, stand by each other's actions. Because of this, they can be difficult to crack." Her eyes shifted to the marshal's as she spoke. "But in truth, your department is very similar."

The marshal smiled away her comparison. "We're the ones with the badges, Ms. Rao."

"Regardless," she said, turning back to Maxim, "you desire to punish the wolves for attacking an officer. You feel you must correct the embarrassment of allowing them to escape."

Those two things were true, Maxim couldn't deny that, but after his encounter with Diego, the crime became a pretense. Now his priority was the dangling thread of his missing wife. Since Lola was a motive the detective couldn't admit to, playing along with the case would get him close enough.

Nithya reached for a folder on the marshal's desk. "It may surprise you to think of me as an officer of the law, but this is my district, and I must enforce HIDE. To not hold the club accountable would be to invite further discrepancies like Officer Kent and Mr. Varela."

The image of Esteban Varela lying in the dirt flooded Maxim's mind. His death had been the catalyst of all the dark revelations that followed. He was a wolf, though, and ultimately, Maxim's interests lay with other victims.

"After the full moon," said Nithya, "you sent BOLOs out for two Seventh Sons."

Maxim nodded. "According to Deborah Holton, the club president, the other two bikers weren't members."

The CDC agent chuckled. "I am well acquainted with Ms. Holton."

Nithya leafed through the contents of the folder and handed Maxim a black and white photograph of a man lying face down in what looked to be a hotel room. "Yesterday evening, my team tracked and killed this man hiding on the Yavapai reservation." The poor image quality did not reveal many details, but the man did appear to be Native American. The local tribe was located an hour south of Flagstaff.

Maxim caught on. "You know the identities of the two escaped wolves."

"That is correct," she answered adeptly. "This is your man, Carlos Doka. We executed an Order To Kill for his part in the death of Steve Varela. In truth, it was a long time coming. He has had long ties to the criminal underworld."

"Like the Seventh Sons?"

The CDC agent paused and angled her head. "Unknown. It is likely that they were at least passingly familiar with each other just on the basis of their mutual notoriety."

She placed two printouts of IDs on the desk in front of him. The Indian man had two Arizona driver's licenses—two different names, but the same face on each card.

Maxim remembered the man lying in the clinic bed just three days before. He looked closer at the photo of the dead body and was convinced it was the same person. Except...

"His leg isn't broken."

"It very well may have been at one point," she said, "but not after he turned." When the wolves had escaped, Maxim recalled seeing their casts on the floor of the destroyed clinic room. Nithya explained further. "The wolf skin is rejuvenating for lycanthropes. They can heal most injuries during the transformation. Even back in their human form, they are as good as new. It is a vital part of their long-term health."

"So if that night hadn't been a full moon, those two would still be hurt and in custody?"

"You are looking at this the wrong way," she said with a wry expression. "It was unlucky for them to be arrested at such a sensitive time. And as for you, without the moon phase, you would still be ignorant of the truth."

It was true. It was dumb luck that everything had worked out so perfectly. Maxim had only reacted to Diego taking action, although it was possible the man had acted on the full moon intentionally.

The detective looked at the photo of the dead man again. "So Doka was executed without being interrogated?"

"He tried to escape, and we couldn't risk him getting away again," she said defensively. "At any rate, he gave us what we needed. In the standoff, he confessed to the murder of Steve Varela and implicated the other fugitive in the attack of your police officer."

"Hmm?" Maxim couldn't make sense of that. He was under the impression that Diego had killed Varela in self-defense. Someone had to be lying. "Why would he confess just like that?" And more importantly, why would he confess at all if he didn't do it?

The woman shrugged. "Unfortunately, my information is limited."

"Does it matter?" cut in Marshal Boyd. "Varela was a werewolf and a criminal, just like the others. Off the record, I'm more concerned with the assault of an officer than the club thinning themselves out." Boyd rapped his fingers on his desk matter-of-factly. "The important thing, Detective Dwyer, is that you get to close out another case for the Sanctuary Marshal's Office."

No, he couldn't wrap things up until he found Lola. He needed to investigate the Seventh Sons further. There was still an open thread.

Two suspects had escaped. Doka was dead but the woman was still out there. She was white and probably not in Yavapai territory. Hopefully she had escaped the reach of the CDC. "I can't close this out until we capture the blonde."

The marshal laughed as if the answer were obvious. "Who do you think the silver bullets are for?"

Nithya handed Maxim another paper. This was a rough photocopy of an old passport. The girl in the picture was much younger than the woman they had arrested.

"Nicola Makarova," stated Nithya. "We are lacking any more recent paper on her. Our guess is that she emigrated from Eastern Europe as a child and was sold as a bride or into prostitution. She is still at large and is being targeted under HIDE."

Interesting. Diego was chasing Doka and Makarova for a reason. The woman was marked for death, but if Maxim could find her first, then he could question her. If Nicola knew anything about Diego's sister, maybe that would also lead to Lola.

"I can get started right away," said the detective. He stood up, eager to get out of the cramped office and continue the investigation on his own.

He wasn't fast enough.

Marshal Boyd waved him back. "Just one minute," he called. "Sit down, sit down." Maxim looked at Nithya sitting next to his chair with a smirk on her face and complied. She was holding one last paper.

"I am confident that you are a resourceful detective," stated Nithya, "but I am afraid your skills would be superfluous in this matter. You see, I have already identified where Makarova is hiding."

The woman placed a picture of an extended wood cabin on the desk. Maxim had never seen the building before, but he immediately understood the implications of the line of Harleys parked to the side.

"This is the Seventh Sons clubhouse."

Nithya nodded.

"But Deborah said—"

"Ms. Holton is trying to survive, Detective." Nithya Rao put her finger on the picture. "This is her castle, and she is charged with protecting her pack within. You will find that all her truths serve that purpose."

Maxim sucked his teeth in disgust. Makarova was in the motorcycle club after all. The bitch had lied to him, and just when he'd thought they were getting somewhere. What else was Deborah hiding? Had she known Doka as well?

Marshal Boyd cocked his head towards the picture. "Tomorrow, under the command of Ms. Rao, you are going to raid the Seventh Sons clubhouse. I'll send Gutierrez with you as well."

Maxim sat dumbfounded. Everything he was hoping for was suddenly happening because of the CDC. Nithya Rao was turning out to be a valuable ally against the Sons. Still, it all seemed to come too easily.

The marshal assumed a stern voice. "It is imperative, Detective, that we remain focused on the objective. HIDE gives us jurisdiction for Makarova only. Once we get her, we get out." Boyd's blue eyes were piercing, and Maxim knew he suspected deeper motives. "Understand?" The marshal was ultimately a politician whose primary concern was the public image of the department. Boyd wouldn't be a problem as long as Maxim was smart about what rocks he overturned.

The feeling was cathartic. Maxim was thrilled about going to the clubhouse. He had been so adamant about investigating this trail further that he had been entertaining the thought of sneaking there alone anyway. Now that this was an official joint operation, however, it seemed a shame if they went in undermanned.

"Shouldn't we have a larger team?" Maxim cautioned, turning to Nithya. "You said you had agents raid the reservation. What kind of support do we have?"

"This is not a tactical operation," she answered. "We are essentially serving a warrant, and I expect peaceful compliance."

The detective scoffed. "You expect Deborah, who lied about sheltering Makarova, to let us peacefully stroll in and apprehend her?"

"Apprehend," said Boyd. "Capture. There are those words again."

Nithya looked at Maxim with her large brown eyes. "Ms. Holton understands the importance of cooperating with the CDC," she assured. "If any of her pack were to harm any of ours, that would be the unconditional end of that clubhouse." A fiery certainty burned across her sharpened features that gave the detective pause.

Maxim watched the two of them as they prepared. They seethed with overconfidence. Boyd had likely never planned an operation against a threat like this before. Nithya appeared to know what she was doing and didn't lack in conviction, but did she really plan to walk into the Seventh Sons clubhouse with an escort of two officers and have things work out?

Still, Maxim was compelled to have a look inside that cabin.

Marshal Boyd chimed in. "I know you, Detective Dwyer. You're not backing out of this. Not after I've given you the perfect chance to get what you want."

 

 

 

 

 

"He's still outside, watching us."

Nicola Makarova peered cautiously through the blinds at the movement in the trees. The man they had attacked was out there. He had been, for at least a day. He was no wolf, though, and silver knife or not, it would be suicide for him to try to enter the cabin. So instead he just hid, watched, and bided his time.

Nicola felt her wiry arms tremble slightly. This was maddening. If she were to fight or run, then she could flex her anxious muscles, but she didn't know how to handle this agonizing state of suspension.

Besides, she wished she could be outside again, let the sun warm her pale skin, feel the breeze throw her blonde hair across her face. She'd spent enough of her life cooped up like an animal; in her mind, freedom was always worth the risk.

"Nicola," said Melody, who made a point to roll her eyes so the other would notice, "you've been stressing me out with this all week." The younger girl had been sitting quietly on the comfortable den couches without, as usual, a care in the world. "Besides," she added, walking to the window to get a peek, "he's not that bad." The intruder outside wasn't in plain view, so she just shrugged and sat down with her iPad again.

The girl had a particular gift for getting under Nicola's skin. She treated everything like a game. Mom didn't want any of the Sons talking to Angie's brother, so of course Melody immediately had a crush on him. Only she could get away with that.

"I'm surprised you haven't thrown yourself at him yet," muttered Nicola. She looked back to see if her words had the intended effect, but Melody had already put her white earbuds in.

Nicola huffed. It had been a very bad week, but it wasn't the girl's fault. This was all on Carlos Doka. He was the one who had told them to surround Diego. He was the reason Steve had been killed. And he was the idiot who'd hurt the cop in the hospital. He used the wolfskin as an excuse, but Nicola knew better—he had always been a powder keg.

It had been a mistake to ever get involved with Doka's side business. Nicola was a skinny woman who didn't look capable of much, so when Steve asked for her help, she'd thought it was a chance to step up. A delinquent had gotten away from Doka in the woods. She had helped track him down, and Doka had pushed him over the falls to make it look like the man killed himself. She didn't know why. She didn't ask questions. Her job was to help out brothers in danger, and she had saved Steve's ass. Nicola felt like a hero that day.

Revenge killings were part of the world. You got stepped on or you got strong. There was nothing wrong with that. Over the last year, however, Nicola had begun to realize how dirty the man's dealings were. It had become clear that Doka was the one responsible for the abductions. He was the reason Diego was here asking questions, and trying to silence the man was the mistake that had finally caught up with him. Now Doka had fled to the safety of the Yavapai reservation. With Steve dead, that left Nicola to fend for herself, with Diego at her literal doorstep.

Gaston walked in and noticed Nicola's guard. "You've gotta be shitting me. How long has he been out there?" The tall man stormed to the window and trouble brewed on his face.

Melody did an encore performance of her eye roll and left the room. Gaston was one of the few people with the balls to call her out, so she tended to avoid him.

"I told him I would kick his ass the next time I saw him," said the man in a gruff voice.

"You fucking boys," said Nicola. "Too much testosterone. You think you can solve everything with muscle."

"I know you want vengeance for Steve."

She sighed. She knew Gaston had been his friend—she had been too—but was more killing the answer? Violence is what had gotten them into this mess.

"Doka started it. Where were you anyway?"

Gaston shrugged. "Diego came to me first and asked about his stupid sister. He was all up in my face, so I told him to go to hell." The big man shook his head. "He's lucky we shared some pitchers in Detroit, otherwise I would have kicked his ass just for being so demanding."

"Couldn't you just talk to him?"

"I did. I couldn't help him and he wasn't taking no for an answer. Anyway, I had some other girl all over me and had to go. Diego didn't need to start killing people."

"The man was just defending himself," she confessed. "He was just looking for Angie." It was kind of sweet, really, that the girl had a protector. Nicola could have used an older brother herself.

Gaston shook his head. Nicola knew her explanation wouldn't keep him from blaming Diego for Steve's death, but hopefully it would stop him from doing something stupid.

"Hell," he said, a lightness entering his voice, "I honestly wish I knew where she was." Nicola could tell that Gaston was wrestling with some heavy thoughts. He was a brash man, but he had a history with both siblings. "How did he even find the clubhouse?"

Nicola frowned. "I bet he followed that bitch Melody here. She's like a teenager; she thinks she's invincible and flirts with danger. And whenever she gets too deep, she calls on Mommy to protect her."

"We ain't talking ill of family, are we?" Mom walked through the large entry of the den with a snide look on her face. Speak of the devil. "What's got you all worked up, sugar?"

The woman wore her Southern charm like a disguise, but she was more shrewd than she let on. Nicola motioned outside with a nod.

The midday sun fell on the long white grass of the cabin's front yard. It was a small clearing in the middle of a dense wilderness of browning leaves and evergreen pine needles. The thick foliage in the distance cast heavy shadows, but when squinting at just the right patch of branches, it was clear that Diego de la Torre was lurking within the darkness.

Mom just grunted to confirm that she saw the man. From any other president, Nicola would have expected a course of action, a plan, but not Mom. She understood a bigger picture—she was a part of it somehow—and so she chose to do nothing.

"Why is he here, Mom?" Nicola asked coarsely. The older woman's face seemed to be made of stone. Nicola pressed her when she got no answer. "Diego should be talking to Carlos."

Mom gave her a sideways look and pursed her pink lips. She was pretending not to know how Doka was involved. But Nicola knew. Carlos was Mom's errand boy. He cleaned up the affairs that she wanted to keep the club ignorant of.

Nicola didn't hate Debbie—she was very grateful that the woman had taken her in when she needed support to deal with her affliction—but times were fast changing. Mom had made too many compromises to stay afloat and it visibly taxed her. It made her less trustworthy. And it pissed Nicola off.

"I don't want anyone talking to the Yavapai mercenaries," Mom said sternly.

Nicola grumbled and did something she had never done before. She yelled at Mom. "Why the fuck not? What did Doka do with Angie?"

Debbie was taken aback for a moment. Even Gaston raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Nicola knew it wasn't a good idea to ask in front of Gaston—the less he knew the better—but she was the only one on the run. "Can't you see that the easiest way to get rid of him is to tell him where his sister is?"

"Nicola, dear..." said Mom, brushing her bangs aside and squinting her eyes in a look of warning. Debbie put her hands on her hips and stood tall, and suddenly Nicola regretted losing her temper.

 

One moment Nicola was afraid that she would face the full, twisted wrath of the woman she owed so much to, but then, just as quickly as the fire had been lit, it softened to a warm glow.

"Honey," said Mom, her voice almost cracking, "our family must persevere. We must be here for each other."

Nicola saw a hint of the maternal figure she had loved, who had saved her, but there was no denying the pressure Mom was now under. Could she ever be the same woman again?

Her thoughts were interrupted as their attention turned to the window. A white SUV turned the corner in the road, kicking up red dirt as it approached the clubhouse.

"What now?" muttered Nicola. As Debbie and Gaston followed her gaze, a sinking feeling materialized in her stomach. She recognized the government vehicle that parked at an angle from the cabin door. Even though the tinted windows were an opaque black, they all knew who the driver was.

How could they have found her?

Gaston spoke with more distaste than he reserved for Diego. "The CDC woman." There wasn't much that the man liked, but Nicola knew that the government ranked near the bottom.

They watched as the front door of the SUV opened and two perfectly white high heels stepped into the dirt. Nithya was wearing a dark business suit, but her open jacket revealed holster straps around each shoulder.

Nicola desperately turned to Debbie and wished she could take back her outburst. She was in a lot of danger now, and she felt her throat choking up. "Mom..."

Debbie, usually stoic in the face of challenge, wore a befuddled expression. She brushed her graying hair behind her shoulders and gave Nicola a telling look. Nithya was here for her—there was no doubt about it.

"Y'all had better stay inside." Mom solemnly exited the room.

Nicola wasn't sure if hiding would be enough. As the different scenarios played out in her head, she couldn't keep from thinking suspicious thoughts. "Do you ever get the feeling that there's more going on between Mom and the CDC than she lets on?"

Gaston scoffed. "No way." His displeasure at the thought was clear.

Gaston was an idealist, fiercely loyal to the MC, but his devotion was so complete that it blinded him to anyone else's ulterior motives. The poor guy might have been the most straightforward asshole that ever lived. It made him a valuable companion when trouble went down, but he didn't have a developed understanding of how the real world worked.

Nithya stepped away from the vehicle as the back doors opened. Two police officers wearing bullet-proof vests emerged. They were two of the cops that had arrested her the other night. The Mexican boy wore a blue uniform and the other, the detective, wore a red tie under his vest and had a white hat on.

This wasn't good. Doka shouldn't have cut that cop.

"Maxim's not laying off you guys, is he?" Gaston smiled. He wanted this. He liked confrontation. Even better when it was unavoidable because then he couldn't be blamed.

The three government employees walked up to the cabin and turned their heads sharply as the front door opened. The two cops moved their hands to their holstered weapons. Nicola could feel the adrenaline starting to surge through her veins. No, she did not want to succumb to the strength just yet.

Mom stepped onto the wooden porch and into Nicola's view from the window, blocking the path to the door. She had her cowboy hat on now, and she tipped it a bit to shade her eyes from the sun.

"Ms. Rao," she said coolly, hands defiantly on her hips. "I'd appreciate some notice when you bring the police to my door."

Nithya climbed the steps and stopped a few feet from the MC president. Her tall frame, embellished by the heels, towered over the older woman. But she was the more vulnerable person here; she was no wolf.

"We have a warrant to search your premises." The CDC agent spoke with a detached authority that worried Nicola. Debbie would deny it, but the two had an amiable relationship—not so much as friends but business partners. This matter, however, appeared to divide them.

"She had nothing to do with it, Nithya. Y'all can't come in."

Maxim skirted the yard and examined the surrounding grass, peeking at the side of the cabin. The Mexican stepped back a bit and eyed the second floor windows. They were concerned about being ambushed.

Nicola turned her attention to Diego behind the tree line. He watched intently from cover without announcing his presence.

Nithya's words drew her attention again. "She needs to answer for attacking a police officer, Ms. Holton."

What? They're gonna try to put that on her? Nicola was the one that had held Doka back that night.

The conversation escalated a bit. After some harsh words from Debbie, Nithya stepped even closer to her and shoved a finger in her face. "You know what will happen if you put a finger on me."

Nithya wasn't backing down. That was a very bad thing because her words were true. She was essentially untouchable.

Even Gaston knew his limits. "If anyone from the MC so much as scratches her," he said, "the CDC will burn this place down."

Nicola felt herself start to panic. She was in dire trouble. Maxim glanced at the window they were peeking through, and Nicola hurriedly ducked away. She pressed her back against the wall below the sill and looked up to Gaston.

"What can we do?" she rasped.

"The only thing that woman wants from all of us is blood."

Nicola couldn't accept that. She didn't hurt that cop. She didn't go against the CDC. She didn't need to die.

"Mom's gonna give me up," she said, rattled. "I'm telling you, we can't trust her!"

The big man shook his head with firm resolve. "Just stay hidden and let Mom work them."

There it was. More idealism from the big man. More belief that things would work out. Nicola was wiser, however. She was intimately familiar with the harsh machinations of the world. She knew what drove those who were in positions of power. Debbie wasn't the upstanding club leader that Gaston hoped she was. Maybe once she had been, but now Nicola was convinced that Mom was more concerned with her personal fortune than the sanctity of the MC.

Nicola poked her head up so her eyes were just visible over the window sill. Nithya and the police were still outside posturing. So far, Mom was holding her ground. Nicola glanced to see what Diego was doing in the trees, but she couldn't see him anymore. He was gone.