Aztec Treasure
Research Project

It took a little over three weeks before Christian returned to pick up his car. He was driving a green 2017 Ford Escape, parking it to the side of the garage. I opened the garage door, and Christian started hauling grocery bags inside by the fistful. Four trips later, as plastic bags of fresh food, milk, cheese, and junk food covered the counter, he brought in a gym bag and a big McDonalds bag.

Maritza crawled over and pulled herself to her feet between my legs as we sat down to eat. I held my baby on my lap, letting her munch on a fry while I bit into a Double Quarter Pounder with cheese and bacon. “Oh, how I missed this,” I said as I wiped the grease from my chin.

“We can talk after you eat,” he said as he bit into his chicken sandwich.

I gave bits of burger and bun to Maritza as I ate, not stopping until I was beyond full. Christian had finished his meal and watched me eat with amusement as he set the gym bag on his lap. I took a long drink of the vanilla shake and sat back to listen. “First off, here are Maritza’s identity papers.” He took out the birth certificate and social security card. “You will have to apply for a passport if you need one.”

I just shook my head, no. “The Cartel is still looking for Sons. I’m never going to Mexico again.”

“That would be best.” He handed over the title for the Escape. “I backdated the sale of the Prius to before your father left, then traded it in on this one, which I then sold to you privately. I’m sorry it took so long. The title is clean and in your new name. I figured it was close to what you were used to, and it’s in good shape. A used car will raise fewer flags since I paid cash for the difference. I did have my mechanic go through it while I was waiting for the new title to arrive, and he installed the car seat for you.”

“It’s nice, thank you.” I was glad to have a car back just in case.

“I’ll get it parked in your garage when I leave. It’s still best if no one sees you, and you don’t go into town. Keep it ready to leave at any time, with a go-bag packed and ready. If you have to make a rapid exit from here, have all your money and papers in one place.”

That made sense. “I’ve got a bag ready under the sink.”

“Add these to them.” He handed over a stack of plastic cards. “Stacks of cash can lead to trouble in quantity, so I got you these. These are gift cards for gas stations, restaurants, fast food, Walmart, grocery stores, and a few other places. Reloadable Visa debit cards, each one has a thousand dollars on it. Keep a selection in your purse, and hide the rest in your car.”

“How much is there?”

“Over ten grand in cash equivalent. There’s more in the car, hidden in the padding under the car seat. You’ve got fifty grand there, but save it for emergencies. These are debit cards for legitimate accounts I set up in your name. As I’m able to clear funds from your estate, I’ll transfer them over in a way that doesn’t attract attention.”

“Just how much money are we talking, Christian?”

“Right now, I have almost a hundred grand freed up for your use. Maybe five times that will eventually come.”

Wow. “Dad had that much money?”

“He had an exit strategy for his family, and he had hidden investments and properties that will take some time to liquidate. Officially, you are dead, and you are safer that way.”

“I wasn’t part of the Sons, and I don’t know anything about what they did,” I complained.

“It won’t matter. You’re dealing with Cartel and Feds, Maria. The Cartel will kill you because of what you might know, while the Feds will take everything your father wanted me to give to you. I’m doing everything I can to launder this money and get it to you, and it’s not easy. The FBI and Treasury department are crawling through everything associated with the Club, looking for any more money they can seize. There isn’t much left for them to replace now. Once they stop digging around, I’ll be able to finish the job.”

“How long am I staying here?”

“Ideally, you’d stay out of sight until the Sons of Tezcatlipoca Task Force winds down and people stop looking for you. All it takes is one person recognizing you and making a call to the cops, and it’s over.”

He was right. “Should I leave the Denver area instead of staying here?”

“No. I’d have a tough time arranging a safe house as good as this one, and any movement involves risk. I’ll stop by once a month or so; I can justify checking on a property I’m paying maintenance on, but more often could raise questions. Don’t use the phone and don’t do email or anything on the Internet that might lead authorities back to you.”

“What about school?”

“Your new identity shows you to be an 18-year-old high school graduate, Maria. It was easy enough to put your transcript into the computer of a public school in Kansas City. As long as no one talks to your classmates, it will hold up. The guys we use to make these identities are worth every penny, Maria. As long as you don’t give the authorities a good reason to dig into your background, they’ll hold up.”

“What about college? Can I do that while I’m stuck here?”

“I don’t want to see your new identity tied to this address, Maria. Be patient; you have a toddler to raise, and she’s going to be a handful.”

He had no idea. We talked for another twenty minutes, then he went outside and pulled his Lexus out, replacing it in the garage with my Ford. He tossed me the key as I stood in the kitchen door. “I’ll see you next month,” he told me. “You’re doing great as a Mom, I can tell.”

“Thank you, Christian. Drive safe.” I watched him drive away, then went back inside to play with Maritza.

Life was much nicer with fresh food. Maritza was a good baby, sleeping through the night and napping several times a day, so I had plenty of time to do things. I kept the news on during the day and started researching what happened to the Sons.

I’d always known my father wasn’t law-abiding, nor was the club. Things they did to earn their money weren’t discussed outside Church, the patched members’ business meeting. I was a Club Princess, and the closest I ever came to Church was delivering beer. Mom wasn’t stupid; she must have known they were into drugs, guns, and prostitution.

Anyone could read the paper to know that, but the club I knew was full of strong men who looked after me like their own. No one dared pick on me at school, and no teacher would fail me. The Clubhouse was a safe place for me, filled with fun and family. It was supposed to be my life; I’d leave the Denver chapter when I married a werejaguar from another club.

I started researching on my own. I had pages of my notebook filled with notes from the stories I found on the Internet. The FBI investigation and indictments against Club members laid out exactly how violent and criminal the Sons empire was. I shook my head as I read about the members who had ‘flipped’ in exchange for reduced sentences, something no one had EVER done before. I guessed that when all the Sons chapters got wiped off the map, the threat of retaliation against snitches wasn’t as effective.

Once I knew how the club had collapsed, I started looking at the why. It all traced back to one man’s actions two decades earlier; the DEA undercover agent who infiltrated the Satan’s Riders motorcycle club. The agent set up a bust where a President’s wife died, and the Sons never forgot. They tracked down now-retired DEA agent Sean “Easy” Ryder in Florida and sent men to kill him and his family.

Simple revenge exploded into open warfare with the larger and law-abiding Steel Brotherhood motorcycle club. They were no outlaw gang but had many former military and law enforcement members that put up stiff resistance to the Sons attack. My cousin Jose Coreirra, who my Mom suspected I might end up mated to, was killed in the war along with the entire membership of the New Orleans chapter.

I watched the funeral service for the Steel Brotherhood and their Ladies killed in the Orlando attack. One of the girls, Harleigh, was about her age, a Club Princess like me. I felt guilty for her, knowing how the Sons would have raped and tortured her before putting a bullet in her head. My distant uncle Jesus even spoke, trying to distance the other Chapters from the violence.

Things seemed to calm down for a bit, and then the raids began. San Francisco was the first one, a major drug bust. It wasn’t long before the FBI and law enforcement hit every Sons clubhouse in the country. Looking back, I could see how Dad and the other Werejaguar leaders left the humans to fight and die while they saved themselves.

The American Chapter Presidents all died soon enough, decapitated, their heads hung like Christmas ornaments on the border fence. The rest of the Werejaguars got taken out in Mexico. It didn’t make sense that the Cartel, Law Enforcement, and the Mexican Military would simultaneously turn on the Sons and devour them whole.

I was playing with Maritza in the living room when there was a ‘Breaking News’ alert. “We take you now to Arrowhead Lake in northern Minnesota, where a hostage situation has developed. Lance, what can you tell us?”

The camera shifted to a young reporter standing on a road looking over a still-frozen lake and what looked like a fancy resort. “Heather, sources report that FBI Most Want fugitive Jack Coffey evaded police in Hermantown earlier today. He has taken hostage the wife of a County Sheriff and is headed here to Arrowhead Lake. Law enforcement vehicles are escorting him here, unable to move in because he has a shotgun taped to the woman’s neck.”

“Oh, my,” Heather said. “Do we know yet what his demands are?”

“We do not, but I expect we’ll hear soon. I can hear the sirens approaching. Our crew will use their cameras and our parabolic microphones to bring events to you as they happen.”

The car arrived with his hostage, taking the frightened wife out. He issued a demand for all people at the Arrowhead Resort, led by Chase and Rori Nygaard, to come out to the road immediately. I’d tried to learn more about Chase and his redheaded wife after seeing them at the funeral, but there was little real information out there on them. I couldn’t even replace a picture of Rori older than a year.

The pair led a group of four or five dozen people out of the buildings. They faced the madman and his hostage, who was on her knees in front of him. “We’re here, Coffey,” Rori told him. “Let her go.”

“Not yet. Show the world what monsters you truly are, and then I’ll release the woman.”

“How do I know that will happen? You’re just going to give up?”

“If you haven’t done it in the next sixty seconds, you’ll be wearing her brains. She’s innocent, unlike you. Make your choice quickly, Rori. You have fifty seconds.”

“Some of my people are pregnant! They can’t shift,” Chase said. “You KNOW that!”

“ALL of you or she dies. Forty seconds.”

The couple looked at each other and made a decision. Rori turned around and kicked her shoes off. “ARROWHEAD! STRIP AND SHIFT!”

Fifty people pulled their clothes off and shifted into their wolves as everyone else watched in shock and horror.

Fuck. Chase and Rori were WEREWOLVES.

And werewolves hate werecats.