Chapter Nineteen
Diablo sat at the bar, watching Brutus and Army play a game of pool. It’d been one week since Fallon had moved into her own apartment. Each time he caught her standing in her kitchen admiring the appliances, he had to laugh. In many ways she was just starting to grow up. Her dad had kept her sheltered and dependent on him for all of her life. Diablo narrowed his eyes. Her dad probably didn’t want her telling people what he’d done to her, so he made her afraid of life and living.
“How’s Fallon liking the apartment?” Muerto asked as he sat on the barstool.
“Loves it. You’d think she was living in a fuckin’ mansion the way she’s been carrying on. It does look better with the new paint.”
Muerto jerked his head back. “Paint? What the fuck?”
Diablo shrugged. “Raven brought over several cans a few days ago. I gotta admit the colors look better than all them white walls.”
Muerto guffawed. “Raven really pushes my buttons sometimes.”
“No control over your woman?” Chains said as he came over to them.
Muerto shook his head. “But I fucking love it.”
“That’s why I like to fly solo,” Chains said.
“Flying solo’s the only way I’m going. I don’t need a woman around my neck telling me what to do, or tying me down. I like the variety pack when it comes to fuckin’,” Goldie added as he came up to the bar.
“I heard you got a Road Glide Special.” Diablo curled his fingers around his beer bottle.
Goldie’s blue eyes lit up. “It’s a fuckin’ beauty. Just what a Road Captain needs. I fuckin’ loaded it, spared no expenses. It’s metallic silver and looks like a flash of lightning when I’m speeding down the road.”
Soon all the brothers who were in the main room formed a circle around Goldie. A new Harley was big news; no other conversation could rival it. They all followed him outside, his bike gleaming under the sun.
“It’s fuckin’ wicked,” Diablo said as he hunched down on his knees to inspect it.
“Awesome, bro.” Army ran his hands over the shiny silver body.
For the next hour, the brothers admired the newest addition to their family. The club girls sat on the front porch scowling and shaking their heads, griping about how a metal and chrome bike could get all the attention for the last two hours.
“We gotta celebrate, dude,” Army said. The other brothers voiced their agreement.
As they discussed the particulars of the celebration, Steel rode up on his Harley. He walked over to Goldie’s new bike. “Fuck, this is gorgeous. You just get it?”
Goldie nodded.
“We were just saying that we need to celebrate,” Cue Ball said.
Steel ran his hands over the handlebars. “For fucking sure. Why don’t we go over to Cuervos?” Steel was part owner of a non-biker bar in town. His buddy from back in the day, Jorge, was the other owner.
“Sounds like a plan,” Goldie said.
“But this is for brothers and club women only,” Army said. Many of the brothers agreed with him.
“That’s cool. I’m sure our women don’t want to hear about Harleys all night. I’ll tell Jorge to expect us around eight,” Steel replied.
As the brothers continued talking, Diablo went around to the side of the clubhouse and took out his phone.
Diablo: Hey. How’s work?
Fallon: Great! I love this bookstore.
Diablo: Goldie got a new Harley. It’s fuckin’ badass. Brothers r gonna celebrate tonite.
Fallon: You celebrate when someone buys a bike?
Diablo: Fuck yeah! Major event. I’ll come by around 11 tonite.
Fallon: Ok. You can stay longer if you want.
Diablo: I know. U b careful. I’ll have a prospect make sure u get home ok.
Ever since she’d told him about inheriting the money and that someone had tried to impersonate her, he made sure to watch her. He had to keep her safe. Her birthday was approaching, and then she’d fall into a shitload of money. It made him feel more than uneasy.
Fallon: You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine. Promise.
Diablo: It’ll be either Patches or Ruger. U know them both. See u later.
In his mind’s eye, he could see her frowning, her lips pursed together the way she did when she didn’t agree with him.
Fallon: You’re going to do it regardless of what I say, right?
Diablo: Ya. Gotta go. Text me when u get home.
Fallon: Ok. Have fun. ♥
She’d started using hearts to end their text conversations, and for some reason, he found it cute as hell. There were many things he found cute: her freckles, the way her forehead creased when she was pissed, her giggles, the way she ate all the crust off her toast first, her spontaneous hugs. My sweet pea’s got a good hold of me. He chuckled and slipped his phone back in the inner pocket of his cut.
Walking back to the group of brothers who still congregated around Goldie’s baby, heat radiated through his chest. He couldn’t remember being that happy with any woman, even Hannah.
Fallon was quickly becoming his everything.
And he was just fine with that.
* * *
Amber-speckled bar lights illuminated twisted curls of smoke as loud conversations in loud voices competed with the rock music from the jukebox. Shot glasses, beer bottles, and mounds of buffalo wings and nachos littered the counter and tables. Most of the room wore denim and leather; the ones not wearing it gazed at the rough-looking men with fear and admiration. A few citizen women ventured over and struck up a conversation with some of the men, but they soon retreated to their tables in the back when the club girls rushed over.
Goldie laughed and tugged Angel close to him. “You girls don’t want any competition tonight.”
Shaking her dark brown hair, she grabbed hold of the back of his neck, pushing his face toward hers. Their lips met and Goldie’s hands slid down to Angel’s ass. Diablo threw back his shot, wishing Fallon were there. He had a real bad urge to kiss her deep and wet, but it’d have to wait until later.
“You look like you wish you had a woman,” Maria said as she ran her finger up his arm.
“Only one.” Diablo tossed the whiskey down his throat.
“Fallon. That’s her name, right?” He nodded. “I’m not gonna lie to you and tell you I’m happy about it, but I’m used to it now. That’s something, right?”
Smiling, he picked up another shot glass. “How’s your brother?”
“Not good. Thanks for asking. No one else has.” She picked up her beer bottle and took a long pull.
“Did you wanna eat something? It looks like you’ve lost some weight.” He pushed the plate of nachos he’d been munching on close to her.
She smiled and squeezed his arm. “You’re really a gentle person. I hope your girl’s treating you special.”
“She is.”
Wiping her eyes, she laughed. “She better be or I’m gonna beat her ass.” A pause ensued. “You must be loving Goldie’s new bike. It’s so fuckin’ cool.”
As the two of them spoke, Diablo saw two men walk in and his senses went into high alert. There was something about the men that raised red flags: sweat poured down from the skinnier one’s face, and both men darted their eyes around constantly.
They seem outta place. Like they’re not comfortable. Why the fuck are they hanging by the door?
Diablo went over to Steel, who was talking to Paco, Crow, Muerto, and Shotgun about some of the best road trips he’d been on. Diablo stood close and Steel stopped in mid-sentence, turning to look at him. “What’s up?”
Diablo jerked his head slightly toward the two men standing near the entrance. “You know those two?”
Steel shook his head. “They seem nervous.” He motioned for Jorge to come over. When Jorge didn’t recognize them, the cluster of brothers stiffened.
The tension between them wound around the other Night Rebels, and Army joined them. “What the fuck?”
“Something’s up with the two dudes by the door,” Paco said as he slipped his hand inside his cut.
“We better watch them. I don’t have a good feeling about them,” Diablo said, reaching inside his cut as well.
Before he could take out his Glock 9mm, there were two pops, one right after the other. Shrill screams, scraping tables, knocked-over chairs, and more shots drowned out the music. Citizens were ducking under tables while the brothers were shooting at the two men by the door who’d caused the panic.
“Get down!” Steel yelled out to the club girls, who stood hugging each other.
Another shot. Diablo saw Maria as she hit the floor. “Fuck!” As he ran over to her, he saw the two men dash out the door. “Maria’s been hit. I’m going after the fuckers.” He ran to the front door and saw Chains lying on the floor, blood pooling under him.
“I got this, bro. Just go,” Crow said.
Diablo barreled out of the bar and saw the two men leaving the parking lot on a couple of Harleys. Jumping on his, he tore after them. As they sped toward the highway, Diablo could see the back of one of the men was covered in red. He pushed his bike harder. Cams and engines screamed behind him, and he looked in his mirror to see Muerto, Army, and Goldie coming from the rear.
Harder and faster they pushed. As he gained on the two assholes who’d opened fire on them, one of them fired his gun, the rush of bullets whizzing by Diablo. He took out a tire iron from one of his saddlebags and threw it at the wheel of the rider soaked in blood. The bike careened out of control and crashed, throwing him off. The smell of burning rubber filled Diablo’s nostrils as he watched the rider slide down the pavement, leaving his skin on the asphalt. Diablo passed by him, figuring he was most probably dead, with Army, Muerto, and Goldie in hot pursuit.
The other rider slowed down to avoid a dip in the road, those few seconds allowed Diablo to overtake him. He pulled in front of him, Muerto and Goldie on each side, and Army in the back. The rider slowed down and they forced him off the road. Diablo leapt off his bike and dragged the guy off his.
“You motherfucker!” He punched and threw him on the ground, kicking him over and over. Goldie, Army, and Muerto joined in, taking out all their anger on him.
“Who the fuck are you? Did someone send you?” Army yelled in the man’s battered face. He remained silent.
Diablo spat on the sand. “Muerto, call and tell Steel to send a truck. We’re gonna take this fucker to the cell and get some answers.” Through the swollen slits of the rider’s eyelids, Diablo saw fear building. He kicked him hard. “You better be scared, you sonofabitch.” He turned around and went to his Harley, pulling yards of brown rope out of his saddlebag. Goldie took it from him, went over to the downed rider, and began hog-tying him.
A white pickup truck kicked up dust as it skidded to a stop near the four bikers and their prisoner. Jigger jumped out and rushed over to the quartet.
“What the fuck’s going on back there?” Goldie asked as he helped drag the restrained man to the truck.
“A fucking mess. Badges everywhere. Citizens freaking out.”
“Besides Chains, did any other brothers get hurt?” Army rolled the grunting man into the back seat of the truck.
“No. Chains was shot in the shoulder. He should be good. Paco got him back to the club house and called Doc.”
“How’s Maria?” Diablo asked in a low voice.
“She didn’t make it. Took a bullet in her chest.”
“Fuck.” Heaviness pressed on his chest as Maria’s face flashed through his mind. In his world, death was a common occurrence and could happen in the blink of an eye; each day they lived was a cause for celebration. But Maria was a club girl. Even though she was part of their world, her role was to please the brothers. In many outlaw clubs, the girls were inconsequential. She didn’t deserve to die. She never did shit to anyone.
After they loaded the guy’s bike in the bed of the truck, they went to where his buddy had gone down with his Harley. The dead rider lay face down in the sand. Diablo picked up his tire iron while the others loaded the man’s crumpled motorcycle in the truck’s bed. They picked up the dead man, threw him in the back with his buddy, and headed back to Alina.
* * *
Paco joined them in the cell as Diablo picked up a pair of pliers. “This fucker talk?” he asked.
Diablo shook his head. “I got all the time in the world.” Goldie, Army, Muerto, and Jigger laughed.
“Fucking badges are all over the damn place. This asshole’s caused a shitload of trouble. Coming into a bar with a bunch of citizens. What the fuck were you thinking, asshole?” Paco punched the guy in the face. His head hung down as drops of blood stained the cement floor.
“How’re the girls doing?” Diablo paused and looked at Paco.
“They’re in shock. They’re not talking. The only ones talking are the citizens, and they didn’t see shit. What a fucking mess.”
Diablo pulled the man’s head back by his hair. “What do you want to come out first, your top or bottom teeth?” The man didn’t answer. “Let’s start with the bottom.”
The man’s screams filled the small room as his bloody tooth clinked against the glass Diablo put it in. “That one’s for Maria, you sonofabitch.”
By the time he’d pulled out four teeth, the man told them everything they already suspected: Satan’s Pistons were behind the hit. The sobbing jerk opened fire in a crowded bar and killed Maria for a new Harley and a thousand bucks. When Diablo pulled the trigger that took the man out of his misery, he didn’t feel any satisfaction. They’d lost one of their club girls. The women wore the “Property of Night Rebels” proudly, and the brothers were supposed to protect them.
By the time all the evidence was destroyed and the bodies scattered, it was three in the morning. He slipped into Fallon’s bed and pulled her close to him.
“Goldie must have a really cool bike,” she teased. He just held her tighter. “Did you have a good time?”
“Nah.” He kissed her head and squeezed her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I shoulda taken care of the guys when they first came in. My gut fuckin’ told me something was up. Maria would still be here. Fuck.
She grasped his hand and tucked it under her chin, and he smiled. For a long time, he lay looking at the curtain as it billowed in the wind.
Sleep would elude him.
And Maria would haunt him.