That wasn't much of a hardship.
Except that, unlike on Monday afternoon, Slider wasn't smiling back at her today. "What's wrong?" she asked, sensing it before he even said a word.
He pushed his sunglasses up on his head. "Caine just got a text. The dogfight's been moved up."
Standing beside his bike, her hand on his thigh, Cora frowned. "Okay, to when?"
"Tonight."
Surprise rocked through her, along with a wave of nervous anticipation. "Okay, so . . . What does that mean? Why is that bad?"
Slider sighed. "Because Martin can't get the other jurisdictions in place within the next two hours on this short notice. These dogfights can attract a hundred or more people, so the original plan was for the cops to be in place at least two hours beforehand, maybe more, to set up a perimeter that would contain all the participants without the Crew knowing. There's no way to do that now."
"Does that mean going this time is off then?" she asked, her stomach dropping. She'd so been hoping this would all be behind them sooner rather than later.
"No. Me, Caine, and Phoenix are still going in. Martin and two other sheriffs are going to give us some backup, but it'll be a smaller operation than we initially hoped."
Cora gasped, because that sounded really freaking dangerous. "Slider, I don't like the sound of this."
He grasped her hand against his thigh. "Don't worry. The plan's still the same. Observe. Find out who's running this ring. Get some pictures of Davis there. Get back out. Hopefully we won't even have to be there that long, because I am not looking forward to watching dogs tear each other apart."
Her mind scrambled for an alternative. "Why can't more of the Ravens go so it's not just the three of you?"
"Because, sweetheart, if the 301 Crew perceives us as attacking their territory, it'll start a war that'll only end when a whole bunch of bodies are lying on the ground, and that's the last thing we want. We have to do this low key, and hopefully, they won't even realize we were there."
"But won't Davis recognize you?" she asked, stepping in closer. He put his arm around her waist.
"If we spot him there, we're going to keep our distance. And we're going to borrow a page out of his book. Street clothes. Hats. Phoenix even found an old pair of glasses he's going to wear."
That made her smile, just a little. "I just don't like the idea of you in danger, Slider."
"That's why I gotta do this. It's time to put it behind us." He handed her a helmet, and too soon they were back at the house so Slider could change. He came downstairs fifteen minutes later in the same jeans and boots, but wearing an oversized hooded sweatshirt under a blue and brown flannel jacket. A Ford baseball cap sat low on his head. And he had a clean shave.
"You make redneck look good," Cora said, trying to inject a little humor into the situation. But it fell flat.
"Right?" he asked, crouching at the end of the living room couch where she sat with Bosco at her feet. "The boys will be home in a few, so let me ask you before they get here and want to interject their opinion. Would you prefer to spend the evening at the clubhouse or at Dare and Haven's? Meat had reserved the clubhouse tonight for his fortieth birthday party, so it might be a little crazy there, but of course you can grab one of the rooms upstairs."
"Would Dare be okay with us crashing over there?" she asked, not sure she was up for pandemonium tonight with the way her head already pounded with tension.
"Yes. He said he and Haven would hang with you wherever you wanted to be."
"Then I'll go there. The boys love Dare anyway."
The bus pulled up just then. "I'll get them," Slider said. And it was such a normal thing. A dad meeting his kids off the school bus. It was hard to believe that in just a few hours, that same dad would be walking into the middle of a bunch of criminals betting on animals attacking each other, all while also trying to nail a dirty cop.
Cora just hoped with all her heart that he'd be walking back out again, too. And coming home to her.
Chapter 23
"This ends tonight," Caine said, a beat-up John Deere baseball hat on his head. In baggy jeans and a gray hoodie cinched at the neck to hide his ink, he almost looked like one of the skate rats they'd seen.
"A-fucking-men," Phoenix said from behind the wheel. A cowboy hat sat beside his lap.
"In and out, just like we talked about," Slider added, hoping like hell that nothing diverted them from the plan.
They rode to the fight in one of the old pickups used for the Ravens' track business, not wanting to put anyone's personal vehicle in the 301 Crew's sights. The address they finally received was located about forty-five minutes away, and luckily the early sunset of the season meant they'd get to go in under the cover of darkness. Martin and two of his officers followed in unmarked cars, giving them at least a little backup in case shit went south.
As shit was wont to do.
Which was why they were all riding hot. Slider fucking hated it-hated the risk of it-but they'd be stupid to go in unarmed with the Crew involved.
The address led them to a long gravel driveway that cut through a stand of woods and emptied out into a big field. A barn sat at the center with maybe forty cars and trucks parked all around, many of them with trailers attached-likely belonging to people who'd brought their own dogs to fight.
They could hear the barking and howling before they even got out of the truck.
"This is going to suck ass," Phoenix said.
Slider thought about Bosco back at home. Bosco, who would roll over onto his back to get a belly scratch, and who came running every time Slider opened the freezer door because he loved to chew ice cubes, and who often fell asleep with his droopy head propped on a stuffed animal squirrel the boys had picked out for him. Yeah, this was going to suck. The last thing Slider wanted to see was an animal getting hurt.
They piled out, Caine and Slider in baseball hats and Phoenix wearing a brown cowboy hat that hid the scar on the side of his face, cowboy boots, and a pair of black-framed glasses. They weren't perfect disguises, but none of them looked like they normally did, and Slider hoped that would be enough.
Even as they made their way toward the barn, a few more cars pulled into the field, and the noise coming from inside made it seem like this was going to be a decent-sized event. That suited Slider just fine, because it meant a bigger crowd to get lost in.
A blue pickup-a blue Datsun-sat at the end of one row. Satisfaction rolled through Slider as he nudged Caine's arm and pointed. "Heads-up." Curt Davis was here, just like they hoped he'd be. Now they'd just have to be careful about being spotted by him.
"Fucking perfect," Caine said, his tone like ice.
Two men stopped them at the door, small 301 tattoos on their necks identifying them as part of the Crew. "Name?"
"Chuck Mason," Caine said. Their master of new identities for their protective clients no doubt had a few set up for himself as well.
The men gave the three of them a once-over and waved them in.
"Jesus," Slider bit out under his breath. It was as bad inside as he feared. Fighting pits filled the barn's four corners. Maybe twenty square feet, there was nothing fancy about them-they were constructed simply out of plywood fencing that stood about three feet high. A pair of dogs fought in three of the pits, and thirty or forty spectators stood around each one, cheering and yelling and booing. A betting booth stood at the center, and a concession stand filled the far wall. People milled around both and wandered up the center aisle.
"Who could eat?" Phoenix said. He wasn't wrong-the stench of animal blood and other bodily fluids hung in the air.
"Come on," Caine said, leading them to stand at the railing of the closest fighting pit where it appeared a fight was about to begin. Blending in necessitated acting interested, so Slider braced his arms on the edge and paid close attention to the two pit bulls being restrained on leashes in opposite corners. Deep lines had been scratched diagonally into the dirt in front of each corner.
As they watched, a referee supervised each dog getting washed down with sudsy water from the same bucket. Listening to the chatter of other spectators, Slider learned that was to remove any chemicals or poisons that a dog's owner might put on the coat to make the opposing dog sick, which just proved how truly twisted this whole thing was.