The ride back to Rialto hurt, but Katrin wasn’t about to complain as she clung to Pistol’s waist and tried not to wince at each bump in the road. The only ill effects from the fall were some aches and scrapes. The bloodstain on her pants was worrying, but she knew, with growing confidence, that the baby was all right. She could feel her mother’s presence with her now, stronger than it had ever been. And she knew that this was the way things were meant to be. Jess had passed from this world, but her legacy lived on in Katrin, and would live on too in Katrin’s child. God wouldn’t take this baby away from her. Not when she had already lost so much. She could feel her mother all around her, protecting her and the baby — and Pistol — from harm.
They found a small motel on the outskirts of town and gave a false name. The clerk looked too bored to give them much scrutiny, but Katrin was still anxious to get into the room.
“That’ll be fifty-six fifty-three, the clerk said.”
And that was when Katrin remembered they had no money.
“Listen,” Pistol said. “My wife’s not feeling well. She just had a fall. We just need a place for her to rest until I can bring someone back to help her.
The clerk finally glanced up from his iPhone. Looked Katrin up and down. “Shit. What happened to you? You okay? Want me to call, like, the hospital or something?”
“No,” Katrin and Pistol said together.
“Um…” Katrin put on her most charming smile, trying not to think about what she must look like to this guy. “I can’t. No insurance. But we have a friend who’s a doctor. If I could just rest in a room here, my husband will come back with our friend, and with some money. I promise.”
The clerk looked at them both suspiciously. “Uh, I’m not allowed to rent rooms unless you pay.”
“Is there a way you could comp our stay? Just for now?” Pistol asked.
“Uh … what?”
Pistol sighed. “I promise I’ll come back with the money. But please, for the love of God, just give my wife somewhere to lie down.”
So much for not attracting attention, Katrin thought.
But eventually, the clerk agreed, though he still seemed troubled by the whole situation. He gave them a key to a corner room that — thankfully — had a good view of the motel entrance and parking lot.
The small room was too cold — the AC was blasting. It looked like it hadn’t been more than cursorily cleaned in sometime. The bedspread was rumpled, and the TV remote’s buttons looked like they’d been nibbled by mice.
“Your luxury resort, ma’am,” Pistol joked, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.
“Wow, very nice,” Katrin said.
“You’ll be all right?” Pistol asked as Katrin sat on the edge of the bed. “You’ll call me if there’s trouble.”
She nodded. “Don’t worry about me. Go rescue your brothers.”
“All right.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “Keep an eye out.”
She nodded, her eyes widening slightly. “That clerk. He’ll remember us.”
“I don’t think he’s in Smith’s pocket. I think he just wants to get back to Candy Crush. But be aware all the same.”
“Okay.”
Then they kissed again, more passionately. Katrin put all the love she felt for him into that last kiss. And she could hear her mother’s voice: I’lllook after him too. Don’t you worry. I’m here for both of you.
I know, Mom, she said silently.I know.
When they parted, he looked deep into her eyes. “I will come back.” He looked as if he needed her to understand this. As if he needed her permission, approval.
“I know,” she said again, a little lightheaded.
Pistol left then, and Katrin felt a coldness in her gut. Even her mother’s warmth couldn’t quite fend off the restlessness she felt, the sense that she ought to be helping. That taking down her father was her destiny too, not just Jax’s.
Come back soon. Please. Please, Jax. Come home.
###
Pistol roared down the residential streets toward the clubhouse. By this time, Diaz ought to have gotten his ass the fuck out of the Blackened Souls’ HQ, and Pistol would be able to swing by and pick up some weapons on his way to Leonard’s house. Katrin was right —Leonard did like to toy with people. And it would have taken some time for the van to get to Smith’s house. But Pistol had used up quite a bit of time tending to Katrin in the desert, and then getting her checked into the motel. He had no idea if the remaining Blackened Souls would still be alive.
But he had a funny feeling that Leonard Smith had planned to use his brothers to bait him. Rather than turn the whole town and surrounding desert upside down looking for Pistol and Katrin, he’d wait until Pistol came looking for him.
Which was why Pistol had to be especially careful returning to the clubhouse. As much as he wanted to roar right up the driveway, he parked a couple of blocks away again, and slunk onto the property.
It looked completely deserted. Diaz’s vehicle was gone. Pistol let himself in the side door, pausing to grab a knife from the kitchen. Then he made a quick search of the house.
No one on the first floor. He opened the basement door quietly and listened. Didn’t hear anything but the furnace. He made his way down the steps, pausing every few seconds, wondering if he’d suddenly come face to face with Diaz, or another goon. Nothing happened.
He headed for the loose floorboards at the far side of the basement and pried them up.
Bingo. The goons had missed this stash. Pistol helped himself to a semi-automatic and tucked a Colt revolver into his waistband for good measure. He grabbed a couple of grenades too, for good measure. Go big or go home, right?
He tried to think whether there was anything else he needed to do to prepare, and realized this was it. His moment. His destiny. The only thing left to do was to get to Smith’s house and get this show started.
He raced back up the steps and into the demolished kitchen. Paused suddenly.
Had he just heard a laugh coming from the back of the house? He listened again, but didn’t hear it.
But for a second, that laugh had been so clear, so familiar. Had brought up memories of late nights, passing a whiskey bottle back and forth. Of early morning rides up to Vulture’s Hill to watch the sunrise. Or long, hot afternoons at the auto shop, shooting the shit or blasting music to make the time go by faster.
I can’t believe I ever thought about leaving my brothers behind. There won’t be justice in this world until Smith is dead.
He hurried to the back door and burst out of the clubhouse.
Hang on, Deion. I’m gonna do you proud.
He ran the two blocks back to his bike, guns ready.