Chapter Four
Dax
The nurse had just given me one of those little bags of morphine right before the cops walked in. I wasn’t surprised to see them. When I got to the hospital they would have called the police because of the gunshot anyways, but my mom said that my dad actually called an ambulance to the club to pick me up. I wondered about the heroin and if he had it put away before they got there. I hadn’t heard of anyone getting arrested, so I had to assume he did.
“How are you feeling, Dax?” This was the same detective who had been in charge of my case before I went to prison. I can’t say I felt any warm and fuzzy reunion vibes coming off of him.
“Like I got shot, detective. How about you?”
“Like I see your ugly face way too much. You just got out of prison. Why the hell were you in a situation where someone might shoot you?”
I laughed and was once again punished by the screaming pain from my surgical sight. “I went to the garage to get the sketchpad out of my saddle bags. I was going to get it and go home. Whoever shot me must have been in there looking for something to steal.”
“You think so?” He raised an eyebrow like the thought had never crossed his mind. “Is that your way of telling me that you didn’t see who shot you?”
“I don’t know if I saw them or not. I don’t remember anything after I opened the garage door. Someone already being there, boosting things has to be the only explanation,” I told him. “My dad and his friends were there I think. I saw their bikes anyways. But they were all up in the front and besides, none of them would shoot me.”
“Because you’re the son of the MC President?”
“Because I have no beef with any of those guys. Most of them are my friends, or my dad’s.”
“Who was all there that night?”
“I have no idea. I just told you that I came in through the garage and got shot.”
“Your motorcycle was there, in the garage?”
“Yes.”
“So what were you driving?”
“My father’s pick-up,” I told him.
“Bull Turner?” the detective asked. He knew damn good and well who my father was.
“Yes,” was all I said.
“Do you know anyone that might want to hurt or kill you?”
“Not to my knowledge,” I said. I could name at least three in my head.
“What about new friends you made in prison. Was anyone there holding a grudge when you left?”
I smiled and said, “I was a model prisoner. I didn’t make any friends or enemies. I did my time and kept to myself.”
“You’re going to make it hard for us to find and prosecute whoever did this to you Dax. Why is that?”
“I’m not trying to make it hard, Detective. I really don’t know.”
He asked me a few more questions about whose bikes I saw that night in the garage and if there were any cars in the parking lot. I told him I’d seem my dad’s bike and some of the old timers. I didn’t mention Blake or Terrance. I wanted to deal with them myself, more than ever.
As soon as they left and I had lay back and closed my eyes, I heard a familiar voice saying, “Imagine meeting you here.” It was my P.O. I really wanted to feign unconsciousness, but she seemed like the type who might smack me upside the head just to see if I flinched.
I opened my eyes and said, “Aw, Miss Ortega, how nice of you to visit me.”
She rolled her eyes and asked, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into Dax?”
I sighed, “I just told the cops, and I’ll tell you too….I’m not into anything. I only went down there to get my sketch pad out of my saddlebags. I had no intentions of staying and the last thing I remember is a gunshot echoing in the garage. I didn’t see anyone else in there with me. I didn’t see who shot me. I’m not being stubborn by not telling them, I honestly don’t know.”
She gave me one of those looks, the one that you get from your third grade teacher when she knows that you’re the one who put the tack on her seat but she also knows that she’s not going to be able to prove it. “I hope you are telling us the truth, Dax. I am really pulling for you to make something of your life. You’re an intelligent guy who seems to still have his grasp on a moral or two. Don’t make me wish I hadn’t been on your side, because you would hate me on the other one.”
“I won’t. I’m going to make something of my life. I told the detective that I think someone had gotten into the garage somehow and was looking for stuff to steal and I just happened to walk in on him. He doesn’t want to buy that though. He’d rather pin this on someone in the club.”
“It’s the kind of thing they would do,” she said.
“Shoot one of their own?” I asked.
“One of their own who is trying to get out,” she said. She left it there and told me she was going to take a copy of my tox panel. It showed I was negative for all drugs and since it was time for me to test again, she’d just use that. Before she left, she reminded me that I didn’t have to face any of the bad guys alone. I could call her for help anytime. I thanked her and closed my eyes again. I thought about how genuinely lucky I was to have so many good people in my corner. It wasn’t ten minutes after Miss Ortega left that I heard a rap on the door. Jeez, no rest for the wicked. At least this one knocked.
“Come in,” I said. My dad let himself in the door.
“Hey boy,” he said in the two pack a day voice of his.
“Hey dad.”
“How’s the belly?”
I smiled. The morphine was beginning to take effect. “Right now, it’s good. The morphine bag is almost empty.”
My dad laughed. Then he turned serious and said, “Blake says he saw you with the gun on me and then you turned it on him so he shot. He didn’t know what was going on, but it looked like you were aiming to hurt somebody.”
“Did you ask him about all the things I told you?”
“No son, I didn’t.”
“Do you think I’m lying about it, or what?”
“I don’t think you’re lying, Dax. I think you’re a little desperate to clear your name so you’re grasping at straws. I know Blake can be an asshole, and his wimpy kid and Olivia being together while you were locked up had to piss you off…but I don’t believe Blake would do this, asshole or not. He doesn’t have a death wish…”
“Yet, here I am with a hole in my gut and he’s still walking around. I guess this proved to him it would be okay to just kill me next time.”
“What the hell did you expect me to do? You were the one holding the gun on me when he came in, Dax. If I’d walked in on his kid holding him at gunpoint I would have done the same thing.”
“What about Brock, Dad?”
“What about him, Dax?”
“He had as much to do with the set-up as Blake did. I have a video of him on your computer and he admitted it to me.”
“Him, I did ask,” my dad said.
“What did he say?”
“He said that you’re crazy. He says the same thing you did only that you’re the one who’s jealous.”
“And of course you believe him?”
“I know Brock is jealous of you, Dax. He always has been. I know he’s hot-headed, that was why I never wanted him taking over this club. But to go so far as to set up his own brother…I just think you’re mistaken, son.”
“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Okay, you’re going to give this shit up?”
“No. Okay as in you’re entitled to your opinion. I’m entitled to mine. When I prove to you that I’m right though, I guaran-fucking-tee you that I’m going to say I told you so.”
I thought my dad laughed, but I wasn’t sure. I drifted off and when I woke up, he was long gone and my mom was sitting next to my bed.