Chapter Five
With two black saddlebags in hand, Paco zipped them on the yoke and tightened the belt to make sure there was enough clearance from the bottom of the packs to the top of the rear tire. He glanced over at Shotgun, who had just finished installing his bags. Normally, Paco and the other bikers would dismount the satchels when they returned from a longer trip. Paco pulled on the packs to make sure they were secure, then slid his leather gloves on while he waited for Goldie, Army, Chains, and Cueball to come out.
“No rain in the forecast,” Shotgun said as he tightened the screws on his bags.
“Glad of that.” Paco leaned against his bike and lit a joint. Winters in Alina were a combination of bitter winds, rain, and sometimes snow. The San Juan Mountains could be treacherous in the winter with all the snow and ice that covered them, and it would be a pain in the ass to ride if it started raining.
“Are you finished, Shotgun?” Army asked, walking over to a shiny amber Harley.
“Just about,” Shotgun replied.
“I’m gonna ride with you guys until we get to Moab, and then I’ll join you at the rally.” Paco opened one of the bags and took out his sunglasses.
“Whatcha got going in Moab?” Army asked.
“Just something personal.” He put on his sunglasses and swung his leg over his Harley.
“Doesn’t your sister live in Richfield?” Chains asked as he pushed up his bike’s kickstand with his boot.
“Yeah. I’ll see her on the way back. You wanna come with me?”
Chains nodded. “Yep. You staying the night?”
“Planning on it.”
“Doesn’t that chick you used to bang all the time live in Richfield?” Army asked.
“That’s right, she does. That fuckin’ works out for me.” Chains switched on the engine and the low rumble of his Harley filled the space between them.
Shotgun straddled his bike and turned on the engine. Soon a loud rumble from all the idling bikes made some of the club girls come outside to see what was going on. Paco was glad the conversation had been cut off. He wasn’t in the mood for twenty questions, and some of the brothers were nosy as hell, especially Army. He was way worse than any of the club girls.
The six bikers left the club’s grounds and headed to the highway. They rode in formation, two by two, and drivers slowed down when their powerful iron machines roared past them. As the traffic thinned out, Paco relaxed a bit, enjoying the coyote-meets-road-runner desert-scape of southern Utah. Red rocky cliffs and buttes abounded, and high above, pale against the blue sky, king birds rode the thermals in a graceful dance. Gnarled branches of ironwood trees had dropped their leaves, making them look almost dead among the green cacti and agave plants that rose from the coarse ground. As they passed through Monticello, sagebrush-covered cattle ranches dotted the landscape.
Up ahead, amazing red rock formations signaled that Moab was coming up. Paco raised his arm and pointed to an exit, indicating that he was going to turn off. The truck stop was there, and anticipation crawled up his spine. Goldie nodded and pointed toward his bike’s gas tank as if to say he needed to refuel. Soon Paco’s brothers followed him into the truck stop, pulling up to the gas pumps.
“It’s been a while since I rode this route. I forgot how fuckin’ beautiful it is,” Goldie said as he walked inside the convenience store with Paco.
“Even though I come through here quite a bit, it always blows me away. You getting something to drink?” Paco picked up an energy drink and went over to the counter.
“Hailey and I were out late last night, so an energy drink is just what I need.”
Paco took out his money clip. “Twenty on four,” he said to the pasty-faced man behind the counter. “And this.” He slid the can toward him.
After paying up, he stood by the gas pump, filling his tank while he scanned the area where the semis parked. Several women walked in front and between the trucks, but there was no sign of Misty.
“Awesome ride,” Shotgun said as he grabbed the nozzle and fit it into his gas tank.
“So what do you have going on in Moab? I never heard you mention it before.” Army took a bite out of a Snickers bar.
Paco clenched his jaw. “Like I said, it’s personal.”
“Did you get some first-class pussy when you came by this way last week? You coming back for more? Does she have a friend?”
“Fuck off.” Paco put the nozzle back in its cradle.
“I was just screwin’ with you, but I think I hit a nerve. Who is she?”
“I told you to fuck off.” Paco crushed the energy drink can and tossed it in the trash bin. “I’ll meet up with you guys later,” he said to Chains and Cueball. They nodded.
He watched them turn onto the highway, and then he rode over to the diner. So far he hadn’t seen Misty. Maybe she just comes out at night. He’d find out where she was staying and go talk to her.
The diner had more people in it than when he’d been there the previous week, but it was earlier in the day and the weather was good. A few people looked like tourists who’d stopped for a bite to eat, and the rest of the customers were truckers. He scanned the room, hoping to see a woman with long hair and soulful eyes.
Misty’s not here. Fuck.
“Just one?” an older woman asked, a menu in her hand.
He jerked his head and followed her to a booth by the window. She gave him the menu. “Someone will be with you in a moment.”
A young woman of about twenty started coming over to him. She held a small notepad and had a pen tucked behind her ear. Behind her, he saw Holly wearing a large smile. Practically knocking down the young waitress, she rushed over to his table.
“I’ve got this one, Annie.”
“But it’s my table,” Paco heard her say in a low voice.
“I know him. I’ll give you one of my tables. That guy with the big gut. He’s a great tipper. Just unbutton your top a little and bend down real low.” She turned to Paco. “Hi, stranger. How’ve you been?”
“Fine.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
From the way she looked at him, he knew she thought he’d come back to see her. “Just passing through.”
“You a salesman or something? Do you sell shoes or vacuums?”
“On a Harley?” What a dumbass.
She giggled and placed her hands behind her back, pushing out her chest. “What can I get you to eat?”
“Where can I find Misty?”
The smile vanished, her shoulders drooped, and her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Where can I find Misty?”
“Are you fuckin’ serious? You came back here for someone like that?”
“I didn’t ask for your damn opinion. Where is she?”
“How do I know? I don’t keep track of them. What’s your deal? Are you one of them guys who has a thing for dirty women?”
“Bring me a cup of coffee and some cream.” He turned away and looked out the window. Beyond the truck stop, he saw an RV park and wondered if that’s where she lived.
Holly slammed the coffee down and it spilled. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it.
“What the hell? You’re hurting me.”
“You show me respect. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but believe me, the hard way isn’t gonna be the way you wanna go with me.”
“I just can’t believe you’re interested in a girl like that. Besides, she’s gone.”
A sudden coldness hit at his core. Gone? “What the fuck does that mean?” He gripped her wrist tighter.
“I haven’t seen her in a couple of nights. I heard that she and two other skanks left with her boyfriend, Bobby. I have no idea where they went. People come and go from here all the time.” She blinked quickly. “You’re really hurting me.”
He slowly relaxed his fingers and she pulled away from him. Rubbing her wrist, she offered him a small smile. “I get off in an hour if you want somewhere to crash.”
He looked out the window. “I’m leaving. Bring the bill.” Sitting on a rusted chair in front of the diner was an older woman. She had her leg crossed over her thigh, and her hand kneaded her bare foot.
So Misty’s gone. Why the hell do I feel so shitty about it? I should’ve asked for her number. This is lame as hell. I should be riding with my brothers instead of drinking shitty coffee and hoping the bitch waitress lied to me. Fucking pitiful. I’m outta here.
With force, he pushed the coffee away from him, the dark liquid spilling onto the table. He grabbed the bill and went to the cashier. Without a glance at Holly, who’d positioned herself right next to the cash register, he paid and went outside.
He looked at all the trucks, and at the women who walked back and forth around them.
“You’re good-looking. Where did you come from? I’ve never seen you before.”
He looked over his shoulder at the woman in the rusty chair. “Just passing through.”
“You a long-haul driver?”
“Nope.”
“I could tell you weren’t. I bet that gorgeous dark green Harley’s yours.”
“It is. Do you know Misty?”
Holding her hand up to block the sun, she nodded. “You looking for her?”
“Yeah.”
Shaking her head, she clucked her tongue. “The young ones have the tight asses and perky tits, but I’ve got the experience. I can give you a better time than she ever could.”
“I’m not looking for that. I just need to talk to her.”
She scrunched her face. “You her brother or something?”
“Do you know where she is or not?”
“You don’t go in for small talk, do you?” She chuckled and resumed rubbing her feet. “She took off with that no-good pimp Bobby. They left a couple of days ago in the early hours.”
Fuck. The bitch told me the truth. “Where were they going?”
“I dunno. I just saw him and the three women take off. A lot of them people just stay around for a few months and then move on to another lot. I’ve been here for a long time, seen all sorts of people come and go. It’s the nature of the business.”
That’s it, then. “Thanks.” He went over to his Harley.
“Hey. My name’s Shirley.”
Without looking at her, he adjusted his rearview mirror.
“You got a name?”
“Yeah.” He switched on the engine.
She walked over to him. “If you were around when I was younger, you’d be all up my ass.” She smiled, her stained and rotted teeth peeking out from behind her lips.
He jerked his head at her, backed up, and rode away.
Three hours later, he pulled into a large grassy area where booths, a couple of stages, and a lot of cool bikes filled the space. Spotting Cueball’s silver Harley, he made his way over.
“Dude,” Cueball said as he bumped fists with him. “We thought you’d be a lot longer. Army said you were getting some pussy.”
“Army’s a fucking asshole. Do you see the tents?” Cueball nodded.
A lot of the bike rallies rented out tents, especially the smaller ones, and Goldie had reserved a few of them a couple of weeks before. They’d spend the weekend at the rally, and then he and Chains would stop by and spend a night or two with Kendra.
Paco hated that he gave a shit about Misty leaving so much so that he wasn’t really into the rally. The way he was reacting to never seeing her again surprised him. He barely knew her, and he’d placed his heart in a rock-solid steel case ever since he and Cassie had broken up. Now why the fuck am I thinking about her? Ever since Misty and I crossed paths, all sorts of shit’s been brewing inside me.
“I found some chicks we can party with tonight,” Army said, handing him a beer. “They’ve been into us since we first got here. And when they find out you’re the VP of the club, they’ll be willing to do anything.”
“Are they the ones in Daisy Dukes and almost see-through T-shirts?” Shotgun asked as he opened a bottle of Jack.
“Those are the ones. And when the sun goes down, it’ll get fuckin’ cold, and we’ll have to keep them real warm,” Cueball added as he flipped the cap off his beer bottle.
Paco looked over to a group of women who matched Shotgun’s description and smiled. Fucking a bunch of biker groupies hard is just what I need. That’ll knock some sense into me and get me out of this funk I’ve been in.
“You in, bro?” Army asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Paco answered, but the truth was he wasn’t really feeling it. He was talking himself into it, but he had no interest in the group of giggling women who kept pointing at him. All they really wanted was a mind-blowing experience they could tell their friends about when they got back home. Every biker chick wanted to screw a vice president. Lately, all of it had become so mundane and predictable.
When he’d first become a Night Rebel, he couldn’t believe how the women flocked to the club, wanting to experience the wild side even if it was only for a night. And he loved it. He could have sex whenever and as many times as he wanted. It had been what he needed to rid Cassie from his mind, his body, and his heart. He’d thought he’d never tire of the life, but he had. Suddenly having any chick he wanted didn’t mean that much to him, especially since most of them just wanted to fuck a biker. Something was missing, but he wasn’t sure what it was until he’d helped out Misty. Their interaction wasn’t sexual. She needed help. He gave it. And in that solitary moment when she let him help her without any strings attached, he knew he needed something more than banging a different woman every night.
He looked around at his fellow club members and knew they wouldn’t understand. Maybe Goldie would since he has Hailey now, but Army and Shotgun would have a field day with this one. Truth be told, he didn’t even understand it, but something had clicked deep inside him that night he’d met Misty. Something he’d gone out of his way to keep buried and apart from the rest of him had started to crack, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to deal with it. Part of him wanted to keep his familiar lifestyle, but another part craved more. So much more.
As they checked out the bikes and chatted up old friends they hadn’t seen for a while, Paco ignored the women who kept staring and pointing at him.
“You’re not into the chicks, are you?” Goldie asked as he handed him a joint.
“Not really.” He inhaled deeply.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on with you?” Goldie lit another one and put it between his lips.
Paco shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just some shit came up that’s got me thinking too much. Scorpio called me a few nights ago.”
Scorpio was doing a six-year stint in state prison for selling stolen bike parts to an undercover cop when he’d been in Denver helping out with his sick dad. It was bad luck, and Paco had told him that he should’ve called him or Steel if he needed the extra money to pay his dad’s medical bills.
“How’s he doing?”
“Good. He’s counting the days until he’s outta there. It’ll be good to have him back at the club. He and I prospected together.”
“I know you guys are real tight.” Goldie went over and bought two more beers from a booth, handing one to Paco. “Life can really suck, but then kickass shit happens that blows your mind. Like Hailey for me.”
“Yeah. You got a good woman. We gotta make sure the West Avenue Bandits don’t start shit in our county. I can’t believe Roughneck wants to wait around and see what these punk gangs are gonna do. He’s gotten soft.”
Goldie laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that, but I agree. The whole club’s acting like pussies. We gotta set them straight. Are you going to Silverado next weekend?”
“Yeah. We can’t let shit start. Steel’s one hundred percent on board with this. If Roughneck and his brothers won’t do anything, we will.”
At the end of the evening, Goldie and Paco sat inside their tent and talked about motorcycles—their favorite subject—while the rest of the brothers partied hard with the giggling groupies.
* * *
A small yellow sign emblazoned with “Army Surplus” in black lettering hung from the corrugated metal roof. The only other surplus store in town was near the outskirts, and it was half the size of Paco’s store in downtown Alina.
The store had the perpetual scent of musty canvas mixed with metal, rubber, and leather. Not only did he carry a large assortment of military-issued clothing and gear, but there was a large section devoted to riding on the road. Leather jackets for men and women, riding boots, motorcycle gear, and funky accessories for the woman who had a rebel streak in her lined the walls and shelves in the back section of the store.
Glancing down at his phone, he opened the text and smiled when he saw the picture of Tommy that his sister had just texted him. He’d only been back a day and Kendra was already asking when he was going to come for another visit. He wished she and the boys would move to Alina. Jesse had another five years on his contract which meant Kendra and the kids would be alone a lot.
The door chimed as Army, Eagle, and Chains walked in, Army making a beeline for the cute clerk Paco had just hired.
“What brings you guys in? Just bored?” Paco stood up from the stool behind the counter.
“We were in the neighborhood, and Army’s looking for a flag,” Eagle said.
“Hey, honey. Do you have a ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ flag?’” Army asked the girl as she blushed ten shades of red.
“There’s one hanging from the ceiling right in front of your face. Leave Jillian alone. She’s got real work to do.” Paco pointed behind him. “Can you open the boxes that came in this morning and sort them out?”
With a look of relief, Jillian nodded and dashed away.
“What the fuck?” Army asked, reaching up to touch the flag.
“Don’t mess with my employees. I’ve told you that before. Besides, she’s too damn young for you. You wanna hang the flag up in your room?”
“Yeah. I’d love to mount it on my bike so the fuckin’ badges could see it and know not to mess with my civil liberties.” The brothers laughed.
“That’d be cool. Take it to Skid Marks. Maybe Shotgun or Diablo can get it mounted for you. Let me get you one.” He bent down and pulled a crisply folded flag from a plastic bin.
“Do you have any Corozal Drystar gloves left?” Eagle asked.
“I just got another shipment in. They’re in the back of the store.”
At that moment, a trio of women came in and eyed the men. One of them smiled at Paco. “Hi.”
“Hey. How’s it going?”
“Okay. Well actually, I’ve been pretty bored lately.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.”
The woman’s two friends laughed and went over to a rack of camouflage clothing. She winked at Paco and joined them.
“Who the hell is she?” Army asked, his eyes on her ass.
“A customer. She comes into the store a lot.”
“From the signals she’s giving out, she wants more than camouflage T-shirts and cut-offs.”
Paco laughed. “Yeah, I’ve suspected that for a while.”
“Then why the fuck haven’t you ridden her?”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Well since this isn’t my business, I’m gonna check her out.” Army started to walk away.
“Hold on. I’ll go with you,” Eagle said.
“Do you still want the gloves?” Paco asked.
“Yeah. Size large.” He followed Army.
“Aren’t you going to join them?” Paco asked Chains.
“Nah. I’m not into women outside of the club. You know how it is. With the club women they know the score. Citizens are a pain in the ass.”
“You’ve got a point there.” Paco knew Chains was still bitter about his wife leaving him for Cross Bones. Chains’s old lady started having an affair with Cross Bones, whose old lady was Lena, the cook for the club. At first Chains hadn’t believed it when brothers started telling him that Cross Bones and Brandy were cozying up, and Paco hadn’t blamed him. Chains had thought he and Brandy were solid—Paco could relate to that. But then one night, Chains, Paco, Eagle, Army, and Sangre had come back early from a charity poker run and he’d found Brandy on all fours, her ass high in the air and Cross Bones’s cock buried deep inside her. The brothers had let him beat the hell out of Cross Bones, only interfering when the fucking betrayer took out his gun.
Lena had been devastated. She’d loved Cross Bones since she was seventeen years old. Steel threw his ass out of the club, and Chains promptly filed divorce papers, but Paco knew it’d left a real bitter taste in his mouth and a huge crack in his heart. Even though it’d been four years, he still refused to fuck anyone but a club girl.
“I could use some of the Drystar gloves too. Where’re they at?”
“At the back of the store with all the biker stuff. Jillian and I moved things around a couple of weeks ago. Grab a large pair for Eagle.”
Army came up to the counter. “Put the flag on my tab. Can you bring it to the club tonight? Eagle and I are gonna be busy for a while.”
Paco glanced over to Eagle, who had his arm around one of the women. “I’ll put the gloves on his tab and bring them to the club. You gonna party at their house?”
“Nah. The blonde who has the hots for you is married, and her cute brunette friends have boyfriends. I think we’ll get a room at the Starlight Motel. You sure you don’t want to join us?”
“I’ve got work to do.”
“Your loss. I’ll let you know how it goes.” Army went over to the women, and with his arms around the blonde and her friend, they walked out.
“He’s gonna be worse than the club girls when they tell us their stories,” Chains said as he put two sets of gloves on the counter.
Paco laughed. “You good with holding down the store this weekend? Jillian will be here, and Felix said he’d close up on Friday and Saturday. We should be back from Silverado by Sunday night.”
“I’m good, though I may have to figure out where everything is since you changed it all around.”
“Jillian will help you with that. She’s the one who organized the store. I have to admit it looks better and makes more sense the way she did it.”
“Okay, that should work. I’ll see you at the clubhouse later.” Chains walked out as Paco picked up a large box and began opening it.
A few hours later, Jillian came up to him. “Should I lock the front doors? It’s past six.”
Paco glanced at the wall clock: 6:20 p.m. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ve been going through inventory and the time escaped me. You should’ve come over sooner.”
“I’m good. I got caught up stocking the shelves. I’m almost done with all the new stuff. I can finish the last three boxes tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure. Go on, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Are you doing anything fun tonight?” She slipped her arms through her down jacket.
“Nah, just the usual. What about you?”
Her cheeks colored red. “I’m going out with Carson Stuart. Do you know him?”
He whistled softly. “His dad owns Stuart Construction, right?” She nodded as she put on her gloves. “You’re running around with the big bucks.”
“Are you making fun of me?” She smiled.
“No, I think it’s great. Just watch yourself. I heard his old man is a dick, and sometimes the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If he messes with you, let me know. I’ll straighten him out.”
Now her entire face was bright red. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you tomorrow,” she said as she walked out of the store.
He watched her as she went to her car parked in front, making sure she took off okay. Ever since she’d told him she’d lost her dad when she was in high school, he’d felt protective of her. Jillian didn’t have a brother, and from what she’d shared with him, it seemed like her mother had fallen apart after Jillian’s father died. Being young and on your own was something he could relate to.
Straightening up, he rubbed the back of his neck and decided to call it quits. He grabbed his jacket, locked up the store, and went out back. Soon he was riding through town on his way to the clubhouse. Most of the stores closed at six o’clock; the only businesses that stayed open were the bars, restaurants, and tattoo parlors.
He stopped by Get Inked and bumped fists with Skull. “How’s business tonight?”
“Slow. Goldie and Tattoo Mike took off, so it’s just me and Jimmy.”
“Where’s Liberty?”
“She’s taking her break. What’re you up to?”
“I wanted to know if you or Goldie wanted to grab a beer at Cuervos before I headed to the club.”
“I’d go, but we like one of the brothers being here at all times. Another time.”
“That’s cool.”
“Why don’t you go over to Lust? Brutus is working tonight, and he told me they got a new dancer that’ll make you hard for a week.” He laughed.
“Maybe I’ll check it out sometime. See you.” He walked out as Liberty came in.
“Hey, how’ve you been?” she said, stopping in the doorway.
“Good. Skull said the shop’s slow.”
“It is, but it can get busy at midnight when drunk people want to do something crazy.” She laughed.
“The business can always count on that. See ya.” He went over to his Harley, made a U-turn, and rode toward the club.
The aroma of green chili, slow-cooked pork, and cilantro wafted around him when he came into the main room. A growling stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since that morning, and he walked into the kitchen. Lena stood over a large pot, stirring as steam rose above it.
“Smells good in here.”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “With the cold weather, I thought a big pot of pork green chili would hit the spot. That’s what my mother always made in the winter or whenever one of us needed cheering up. It’s my comfort food.”
“Do you need cheering up?” Paco went over and looked down into the pot.
“No, but I’m freezing my ass off.” She picked up a bowl and ladled some chili into it. “Here. Get a couple of tortillas in the warmer. I also made chile rellenos. I know you like them.”
“My mom made them every Sunday when I was growing up. Yours rival hers.” Paco went over to the cupboard, took down a plate, and piled three crispy rellenos, a spoonful of rice, and two flour tortillas on it. Taking two beers from the fridge, he shoved them in the pockets of his leather jacket.
“I can help you bring something out,” Lena said as she watched him.
“I’m going to my room. Thanks for the chow.” He walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs.
As he ate, thoughts of Misty popped into his head. He still felt shitty that he’d missed her, and he wondered if her fucking pimp had moved her to another truck stop.
The phone ringing broke in on his musings and he picked it up. “Unknown” flashed on the screen before he brought it to his ear.
“This is a call from Canon City. The caller is Jason. Push seven to block this call or push five to accept.”
Paco pressed five, and a second later a deep voice came over the phone. “How the hell are you?”
“Doing good, Scorpio. Eating a plate of Lena’s chile rellenos. They’re fucking awesome.”
“When I get outta this shithole, I’m gonna eat Mexican every day. How’re the brothers?”
“Good.” Paco and Scorpio knew the score when speaking on the phone. They never revealed anything incriminating. Their conversations were general, bordering on insipid, but Paco knew that just connecting with a brother on the outside made the time inside more bearable.
“You getting some good pussy? Fuck, I miss that.” Scorpio chuckled deeply.
Paco laughed. “You know it. Your cock still doing okay? I thought it would’ve shriveled up without any pussy.”
Another chuckle. “You asshole.” A brief pause. “Some dude transferred here from La Vista prison.”
Paco’s insides tightened. “Yeah. So.”
“Says he’s your dad. He latched on to me when he found out I was a Night Rebel. His name’s Frank Rollins.”
Bile rose in Paco’s throat. “The sonofabitch is my dad. He’s a lifer. I don’t know how he found out I was a patch-holder.”
“Said somethin’ ’bout seeing your picture in the paper a while back.”
That’s right. The fucking reporters put my picture in the Durango Daily. It had been about the shootout the Night Rebels and the Insurgents had with the Deadly Demons in Durango at a bike rally seven years before. A damn reporter had taken some picture of him and other members, and it landed on the front page of the paper. Since no one had talked, and no witnesses had the courage to tell the damn badges what had happened, there weren’t any arrests.
Paco cleared his throat. “I don’t wanna hear about my old man again. As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. Do you ever see Diesel?” Diesel was a member of the Insurgents MC doing a stint in state prison.
“Yeah, we’re in the same cell block. We should be getting outta this fuckin’ place around the same time. I gotta go. I wanted to make sure the old man wasn’t BSing me about being your dad because if he was, I’d have to kick his ass.”
Paco clenched his jaw. “Kick his ass anyway. For me. Later, dude.”
He put his phone down and finished his beer, then gathered the plates and put them out in the hallway, texting the prospects to come pick them up.
He turned off the lights, and a sliver of moonlight spilled into the room. Going over to the window, he leaned against the sill and stared out. In the distance, the mountains were silhouetted against the deep velvety sky. His mother’s corpse jumped front and center in his mind. At first, he’d believed that the police were too lazy to find his mother’s real killer and settled on an easy target—his father. Kendra hadn’t been so quick to rule him out, but she hadn’t been as close to their dad as he had. And that was the reason the betrayal had pained him more than it had her.
As time had passed, the evidence against his dad had mounted: an addiction to strip bars, affairs with women he’d met online, taking out a million-dollar life insurance policy on his mother two months before she’d died.
How the fuck could you have done that to Mom? To us? You were married for eighteen fucking years. She trusted and loved you. We all did.
Anger burned in his veins as he picked up the desk chair and hurled it against the wall. The wood splintered and the broken chair hit the floor with a thud.
“Fuck!” He ran his hand through his hair, stiffening when he heard a knock on his door. “What?” he gritted out.
“Everything okay?” Sangre asked.
“Yeah. Just fucking pissed.”
“I hear you, bro.”
Listening to Sangre’s retreating footsteps, Paco went over and picked up the pieces of the chair. All of a sudden, the room seemed suffocating. He had to get the hell out of there. Grabbing his jacket, he scooped up his keys and dashed down the stairs.
The TV blasted as the brothers watched the boxing match televised from Mexico. He went over to Patches. “My desk chair broke. Make sure there’s a new one in my room when I get back.” Patches nodded.
“How’d your chair break?” Cueball asked as he stared at the television screen.
“I threw it against the wall.”
“That’ll do it.”
“I’m outta here. Later.”
Paco went outside. The sweet scent of the creosote bush, the eerie sounds of the screech owl blending with the yelps of the coyote, and the feel of the cool desert air beckoned him. Straddling his Harley, he sped out of the lot, steering his bike onto the back roads. He rode hard and fast until he reached that moment when everything came together. It was like his bike and he became one, a Zen-like state taking hold of him so he and the world were in total harmony. There was nothing like it. It was his addiction and his love.
And it was the only thing that kept the demons away for a while.