Rocky
Be safe.
Daria’s words continued to ring in my head on the ride over to the abandoned warehouse. She’d whispered it gently into my ear, so quietly that it was like she was reassuring herself just as much as me.
Be safe.
I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone care about me and worry about whatever dangerous thing I was going to do next. Daria questioned my every move, pointed out my flaws and never hesitated to tell me when I was being stupid or reckless.
It was bittersweet knowing how important Daria was to me but that I could never go any further with her. Christ, we’d already slept together once, and I regretted it more than anything. Yes, it was the best sex of my life, but I had taken her on the floor of the garage like an animal. Daria wasn’t that kind of girl. She was gentle and caring and innocent.
Fuck, she liked it rough, though. I wore the scratches on my back from her fingernails like badges of honor for days after we’d had sex. They were the only reminder I allowed myself to have from one of the best nights of my life. Though, considering we spent every day standing in the same spot where I’d taken her, it was difficult to stay on track at work.
Cameron and I had already been driving for several miles and we still hadn’t reached the warehouse. He’d said that it was only a little ways out of town, but as far as I could tell, we weren’t anywhere close. Cameron was riding his own bike up ahead, leading me down the abandoned dirt road. I would never tell him in so many words, but I was endlessly grateful for Cameron being there. I didn’t know if I’d be able to face Garcia alone.
Daria had been right when she said that this would be a dangerous mission today, though Cameron had been quick to reassure her. Garcia was merciless and did things his own way. I’d never met him but from what I’d been told, he had a heinous laugh that could make the bravest of men piss themselves.
He was becoming a ghost story in Springville, even young children in the street knowing about him.
We just passed the ‘Welcome to Springville’ sign at the outpost of town when Cameron signaled to me with a hand in the air. He gestured to the right and at first I was confused, until Cameron suddenly veered off road onto a barely-there trail off the main road. A mile or so after that, we finally reached the warehouse we were meeting him at.
It was massive, run down warehouse, a good base of operations if that’s what Garcia was planning to do with it.
There were three bikes already parked out front so I knew this was the right place. Cameron and I both got of our bikes and I made my way toward the entrance, only to be stopped by my uncle’s hand grasping at my upper arm.
“Keep your cool, okay?” Cameron warned. “I don’t need your temper getting in the way. Understood?”
As far as pep talks went, I wasn’t really a fan. I knew this was Cameron as president talking and not Cameron as my uncle so I didn’t take it to heart as I might have done. Instead, I nodded in the affirmative and pulled my arm out of his grip.
I understood what he was saying but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
This time, as I made my way to enter, I was met with no resistance and I pushed open the solid wooden door that swung back with an eerie creak. If Daria was with me and it was the middle of the night, she would insist that we were on the set of some horror movie and an axe murderer would come out at any moment.
There was no axe murderer inside, just Garcia standing casually with two of his goons. He turned to us after hearing the door open. I’d never met Garcia before but I had seen him once before, years ago, but he looked the same; same shiny bald head, dark furrowed brows, and wearing a perfectly tailored suit that seemed out of place standing in a place like this.
“Boys,” he greeted, spreading his arms wide upon our entry. “Cameron Weston,” he stretched out a hand to Cameron who grabbed it in a firm shake.
“This is my nephew, Rocky Weston,” Cameron said, gesturing at me. “He’s the son of Billy Weston.”
This seemed to pique his interest and Garcia raised a brow, turning to one of his goons and muttering something in Spanish.
When he turned back to us, he had a Cheshire cat smile etched on his face. “What can I do for you, Rocky Weston?” He drew my name out at the end in a way that gave me chills.
“He wants revenge on Jason Steele. We both do.” Cameron again. I had the strong urge to interrupt and say that I could speak for myself, but I supposed that’s what Cameron meant when he’d told me to keep a cool head. As much as I resent it, maybe he didn’t trust me enough yet.
“And you thought I’d help you, Cameron?” Garcia began a slow walk around us, circling us like we were prey, which in a sense we were.
“I know you would. For a price.”
Garcia cackled loudly and clapped his hands together. He stopped his circling and yelled something else in Spanish to one of his guys who released an equally distressing cackle.
Maybe we should have listened to Daria and brought some more men. We were outnumbered, three to two, and it would’ve been nice to have one more man to even things out.
“You know me too well,” Garcia said, rubbing his hands together in interest and staring Cameron down.
I was under the impression that my uncle had never met with Garcia before, but I sensed an odd form of familiarity between them. It was stupid to think that way though, Cameron was probably just involved in a deal between Garcia and the club. I pushed it out of my mind, but I reminded myself to ask my uncle about it later.
“So, you want me to take out Steele?” Garcia confirmed.
“Yes.” I answered this time. “We have a plan if you're willing to help us.”
Garcia let out another cackle. “So, baby Weston thinks he’s got a plan? Okay, I’ll play.”
I ground my teeth in frustration but moved on.
Keep a cool head, keep a cool head, I chanted to myself in the hopes of it actually working.
“The plan is that I will spend the next few weeks staking out Steele. I’ll monitor all his movements, everywhere he goes, people he meets. I’ll report all this information back to you. When we figure out the perfect time for a hit, I’ll pass on the intel and you can take it from there.”
“Seems simple enough,” he nodded casually.
“So, you’ll do it?” I perked up. Surely it couldn’t be that easy.
“Yes. But I have a condition.”
“Here we go,” Cameron muttered.
Damn, just when I thought things were going well. There was no telling what he’d ask us to do. Money I could deal with, but somehow, I knew it would never be that simple.
Garcia turned back to his men and started speaking in Spanish once more, either translating what we were saying or discussing plans so we wouldn’t listen. I was really starting to regret not taking Spanish in high school.
“Okay. I will do it. But only if the Satan’s Wings will work exclusively for my cartel.”
“What?” I sputtered. “Fuck no.”
“Careful, baby Weston. I’m doing you a favor.” I backtracked immediately and held up both hands, palms out.
Cameron was being strangely silent, something I didn’t appreciate at all. I walked over to him until we were almost nose-to-nose.
“I think we should do it,” Cameron said quietly.
“You can’t be serious!” I whisper yelled. “He’ll own us. He’ll own the club.”
My uncle scoffed. “No, he won’t. Don’t be ridiculous, Rocky.”
“They’re our men. This whole plan was because you wanted to avoid a war and make sure the club wasn’t at risk.”
Cameron lifted a hand and placed it at the back of my neck, drawing me close to him so that he could whisper in my ear.
“Make no mistake, Rocky,” he said coldly. “They are my men. I am President, and I’ll be deciding this.”
He released me roughly and continued. “You can’t have it both ways, Rocky. Either we agree to do this and risk the lives of my men, or we do it alone, cause a war, and risk the lives of my men.”
I felt my anger rise to the surface once more and struggled to push it down. Now wasn’t the time.
The way he said it made it seem like this was our only choice, but could I live with that? Knowing that I was the reason the club would be forced to answer to the likes of Garcia. We didn’t know his plans or his end goal. All we knew was that one day we’d be forced to listen when he said jump.
“The club will do whatever it takes to get back at Steele. Billy was the president, they’ll understand.”
Sometimes I wondered if I knew my uncle at all, especially at times like this when he was so cold. Was this how my dad made deals too? Calculating the risks and deciding the path, no matter whose lives could be in danger?
“Trust me,” Cameron said. That was the real issue, wasn’t it? Trust. And I trusted my uncle explicitly.
“Fine,” I agreed.
Turning back to Garcia, Cameron announced, “We have a deal.
“But only after Steele is dead,” I interjected. No way was I willing to do anything until he held up his side of the bargain.
“Deal,” Garcia held a hand out and I reached out and shook it with disgust. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just made a deal with the devil.
Cameron and I walked out of the warehouse in silence. I was still processing what had happened, but I knew Cameron was angry.
“You had one thing to do,” he said sharply. “Just keep your temper. Next time we won’t be so lucky.”
###
The ride back home seemed longer. Cameron had sped off ahead to go home and he was now completely out of sight. I was taking my time, though I knew I’d promised Daria I would hurry back so she didn’t worry.
I closed my eyes against the wind as I coasted along the abandoned road. I couldn’t picture my father’s face at that moment. I tried and I tried, but the details were becoming blurrier with every day. Sometimes I would try and think of him, but see Cameron’s face instead. I wondered if my uncle ever regretted looking so much like his brother.
The sound of a blaring horn jolted my eyes open and I swerved sharply away from the oncoming car. I hadn’t even realized I’d drifted onto the other side of the road, though it was empty enough that I probably wouldn’t have cared if it weren’t for that one car.
I supposed this was what my uncle and Daria always complained about when they called me reckless.
Daria. I could picture her perfectly in my mind’s eyes, without even closing my eyes. She said she’d be waiting for me in the shop, though I’d told her that she should be working. I knew I’d come back and find nothing done and her chastising me for taking my sweet ass time to get back home.
Be safe.
She was probably worried sick by now, it was almost dark. With a groan, I raced down the road to the shop, hoping she wouldn’t shoot me when I arrived.