He had built a small but violent operation in Florida before moving north.
Six weeks earlier, he had decided the way to destabilize Detroit was to strike Beau Whitlock where Beau was most vulnerable.
He believed Maggie's death would create chaos.
He was wrong.
By mid-afternoon, Beau and a group of longtime members reached the Iron Serpents' warehouse.
The confrontation ended quickly.
The people inside were overwhelmed and restrained before the situation could escalate further.
Beau moved through the building afterward.
He looked at the illegal merchandise.
The cash.
The files.
The photographs pinned to a corkboard.
Pictures of houses.
Cars.
Routes.
Men being watched.
Then he found a photograph of his own front door.
Another showed Maggie getting out of her sedan in the clinic parking lot.
Another showed the Fifth Street overpass with the crash location marked.
Beau removed Maggie's photograph.
He folded it once.
He put it in the inside pocket of his coat.
Then he found Marcus Vega.
Vega was being held in the middle of the warehouse.
His confidence had disappeared.
His eyes met Beau's.
"Whitlock," Vega said.
Beau crouched in front of him.
He did not speak immediately.
He looked at the man believed responsible for the attack on his wife.
For a long time.
"You're going to tell me something true," Beau said finally.
Vega swallowed.
"Look, I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
"But you need to know one thing first."
Beau waited.
"I didn't order it."
Beau's expression did not change.
"You can do whatever you're going to do to me," Vega said. "I understand that."
"But the hit on your wife was paid for by somebody else."
"Somebody came to me three weeks ago with cash, a name, a license plate, and her schedule."
"Somebody knew when she'd be on that overpass."
"Somebody knew which way she'd be coming."
"Somebody on the inside."
Beau went very still.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Why would somebody on the inside want my wife dead?"
"I don't know. I didn't ask."
Vega stared at him.
"But the man who paid me wore your colors."
"The death's head. Your club."
The warehouse became very quiet.
Beau grabbed the front of Vega's jacket.
"Describe him."
Vega did.
Tall.
Broad.
Older.
A scar running from below the collar up behind the right ear.
A voice that came from deep in the chest.
A way of moving that was very still until suddenly it was not.
Beau released Vega's jacket.
He stood.
He turned and walked out of the warehouse without saying another word.
Cyrus Boyd had heard everything.
He walked beside Beau.