Chapter 9

 

Ava

 

IT TURNED OUT that Dwayne did have an aunt still living, because I met her at his funeral a few days later. It was a small, private affair, and from what I gathered, paid for by a man he’d worked for. Someone definitely associated with the mob. At least, I assumed that was the case after meeting a few of the attendees, who literally reminded me of some of the characters from The Sopranos. From the way they spoke to the uneasy and shifty looks they were passing to each other. Almost like they were waiting for someone to waltz into the church and open fire. It was a little unnerving.

“You’re Ava, right?” Dwayne’s aunt asked me after the service. She was a short, squat woman who walked with a cane.

“Yes,” I replied.

“My name is Beatrice. You can call me Bea.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You, as well. Your brother, my nephew, used to speak so highly of you,” she replied, smiling at me.

I smiled sadly and wondered if she knew that Andrew was dead. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, considering how devastating the blow had been for me at my mother’s funeral.

“It’s such a shame. I always told him that he needed to quit drinking. Ever since Andrew left, he hit the bottle really badly though.”

“That’s too bad.”

She sighed. “I don’t know how to find Andrew and really don’t know what I’m going to do with all of Dwayne’s things.” She put her hand on my arm. “You wouldn’t be interested in helping me sell his house? I’ll split whatever profit we make on it with you.”

“I couldn’t do that,” I replied. “I’ll help you, but you don’t have to give me any money.”

“At least let me pay you for your time,” she replied firmly. “Please.”

“Okay,” I said. “If you want.”

She smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

I thought about the trip I was planning. “I’m going to be busy for the next few weeks, however. So, I won’t be able to get to it for a while.”

“No worries at all. Just call me when you’re ready and we’ll discuss what needs to be done at that time.”

“Thank you.”

“I know you were just at your mother’s funeral a little while ago. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

We exchanged phone numbers and then parted. Now I had two properties that needed my attention. I’d already decided to donate my mother’s trailer and sell anything worth value, which was probably nothing. I had a feeling that Dwayne’s house was a different story.

 

INSTEAD OF DEALING with either of the homes, I spent the next month preparing myself both mentally and physically for what was needed in Minnesota by visiting the gym every day, going to the shooting range, and researching everything I could about the Gold Vipers. From what I’d learned, there’d been a lot of scandals surrounding the club and they had a keen knack for staying out of jail.

As I dug deeper into their past, I learned that most of the drama related to the club had occurred with the Jensen, Iowa Chapter. The current president, a man named Tank, was particularly interesting. An old girlfriend of his had apparently been murdered a few years back by a rival club and it was rumored that his father, a man dubbed “Slammer”, had also been assassinated by the same group. Of course, nothing was ever proven and nobody went to jail. The writer of the article hinted that Slammer’s murder might have been related to retaliation, but nothing was ever proven and violence continued on both sides. If that wasn’t interesting enough, I also learned that Tank was now with a woman whose son had been caught in the crossfire of a war between the clubs, right after his father had been assassinated. The boy, who’d been two at the time, had recovered and the couple actually got married.

Married? Really?

I decided that the woman had to be a total nutcase. I couldn’t understand why anyone would raise a child in such a dangerous environment, especially after he’d already been shot once. But then I thought of my own birth mother, who hadn’t been a saint herself. I could still remember all of those times she’d gotten so high, leaving me unattended to fend for myself. It had been tough, especially during the week, when Andrew had been at his father’s place. Most of my meals had consisted of Doritos or pretzels or whatever else I could get my hands on. I was forbidden to go outside when she was in her room “resting”, so my life revolved around watching television and playing numerous video games.

Pushing the memories aside, I continued reading about the Gold Vipers until I eventually reached an article about Peyton Francis, the woman who’d claimed my brother had tried to assault her.

Seething, I continued reading. Apparently, she was involved with the vice president of the Gold Vipers in St. Paul, Minnesota. A man named Dominic Savage. Of course, he was nowhere to be found during the shooting. The man who killed my brother was the woman’s neighbor, a retired cop. No charges were filed against him because it had supposedly been in self-defense and of course, Peyton had backed his story up. As far as I could tell, there were a lot of holes in the case, and to me, it was obvious that there’d been more going on there than what it looked like. One thing I knew for certain was that Andrew wasn’t a rapist or sexual predator. Plus, the fact that she was dating the Gold Viper’s V.P. was very suspicious. Reading the article made me even more determined to find out what in the hell had been going on. There was no way I could sit back and turn the other cheek. I was even more bound and determined bring justice.

 

BEFORE LEAVING FOR Minnesota, I purchased an old beater off Craigslist so I could leave my Lincoln Navigator at home. I didn’t want to stand out or be remembered. I wanted to fit in with the type of crowd I assumed hung out with the Gold Vipers. The Chevy Malibu was a piece of crap, but that was fine. It just needed to get me to Minnesota. My plan was to do what I needed to, ditch the car, and rent a different one to get me back home. Another reason I wrote down a fake name and address when he sold it to me. I couldn’t afford to have the car traced back to me.

After packing for the trip, I called Millie and reminded her that I was leaving town.

“Where are you going again?” she asked.

I told her that I’d been hired to do some stunt work in Minneapolis, but would be home soon.

“Another movie?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

“Okay, dear. Drive safely and call me when you get out there,” she said.

“I will.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. You’ve just been so quiet lately.” She sighed. “I can’t even imagine how difficult it was, not just going to your mother’s funeral, but finding out about Andrew and then of course, Dwayne. I know we’ve talked about it, but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “Really.”

She sighed. “Okay. I love you, Kiddo.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

After we hung up, I walked into my bedroom and pulled out the small gun safe from under my bed. I unlocked it and removed my 38 Special. As I held the revolver in my hand, I was suddenly hit with the reality of what I was considering and the gun felt like it weighed a ton.

Could I actually kill someone?

I had little doubt that if I confronted one of the Gold Vipers about murdering my brother, it would be the last thing coming from my lips, unless I was prepared. If anything, pulling the trigger would be an act of self-defense, which definitely helped to ease my conscious. I needed answers and someone had to pay for killing my brother.  

I packed the gun, along with a box of bullets, and walked into the living room. I set the suitcase down on the carpeting and looked around my condo, wondering if I’d ever see it again. It was my first place and I’d spent a small fortune on the shabby-chic furnishings, trying to emulate something that wasn’t just inviting, but cute. Oddly enough, I suddenly felt like a stranger in my own home. Maybe it was because I’d been visiting my past so much in the last few weeks, and this place was such a far cry from where I’d come from. Truthfully, I’d paid quite a bit for the condo, mainly because of the ocean view. I’d wanted to treat myself and hadn’t thought twice about signing the paperwork. But now… I almost felt like I didn’t belong here. That it was too luxurious for someone who’d come from nothing.

Angry with myself, I pushed the thought aside. There was no reason for a pity party. I’d worked hard for the money and I deserved it. Screw Hunter Calloway and anyone else who dared to try and make me feel inadequate.

Raising my head up high, I walked out of the apartment, locked the door, and headed down to the parking lot, prepared to make sure others got exactly what they deserved, too.