Page 121 of Goose

“Check the monitor, Ally,” Baker said. “Mail’s already been here.”

“It’s a rough-looking guy with a kutte that says President on the patch,” she said. “He’s got a tattoo of a bee on his neck.”

Baker looked at Reno. “Crip?”

“Sounds like it.” Reno went to the monitor. “Yep. It’s Crip.”

“Alone?” Baker asked.

“Looks like it.”

Baker stood. “Buzz him in. Bring him up.”

“Wonder what that fucker’s doing here?” Cash asked

“My guess is he’s got something to say he needs to say in private,” I said.

In a few minutes, Reno and Crip sauntered into the room. Upon seeing Ally, Crip’s approach developed a hesitation. “Just stopped in to give my condolences for your loss,” he said. “It’s been a while since your brother passed, but I thought I’d swing by and say how sorry I was.”

He leaned over Baker’s desk and extended his hand.

He’d already given his condolences, when we were at his shop. Suspecting he was uncomfortable around Ally, I stood.

“She’s one of us,” Baker said before I could speak. “What brings you this far south?”

He gave Ally a solid once-over, and then met Baker’s gaze. “She’s a patched member of your club?”

“She sure is.”

Crip stepped in front of Ally and extended his hand. “Crip. Filthy Fuckers MC.”

She stood, looked him over, and gripped his hand in hers. “Shorty.” She gave a crisp nod. “Devil’s Disciples.”

“Likewise.”

Crip looked at Baker and let out a sigh. “Remember that cop friend I was telling you about?”

Baker nodded. “I remember you saying you had one.”

Crip crossed his arms over his chest. “Fucker stopped in to see me the other day. Guess he’s been investigating a bank robbery or two, and one of them involved a pretty sizeable sum of money.”

“Define sizeable,” Baker said.

“Well, you and I both know what they report to the news media and the insurance isn’t exactly true.” He shrugged. “On the record, it was fifteen million.”

“Did he say where it came from?” Baker asked.

Crip chuckled. “No, but he said where it went.”

“Where’s that?” Baker asked.

Crip nodded toward the elevator. “Right here.”

My heart shot into my throat. I looked at Ally. Stone-faced and emotionless, she waited for Crip to continue.

Baker swallowed hard. He pressed the heels of his palms against his temples. “What’s prevented…” he stammered. “What’s keeping him from…”

“He’s not a typical cop,” Crip said. “I can speak from experience.”