Chapter Six

 

 

When Slammer and Tank returned to the table, I could tell something was very wrong. Mom noticed it, too.

“What’s happening?” she asked, watching his face carefully.

Slammer glanced around the room and then answered in a low voice. “Raptor’s mother was found. Murdered.”

“Oh my God, do they know who did it?” asked Frannie, shocked.

“They’re not sure yet,” he replied.

She put a hand to her chest. “Poor Raptor. Are you’re certain that it was murder?”

He nodded.

I cleared my throat, almost afraid to ask. “Do you think that it has anything to do with the Devil’s Rangers?”

“It might,” he answered. “They have a new president. A guy who just got out of prison and was close friends with Mud, from what I understand.”

My stomach tightened. “Mud was the president of the charter that Breaker belonged to, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then her death probably had something to do with me,” I stated, feeling ill.

“No,” said Slammer firmly. “And listen to me… none of these deaths were your fault, so don’t even go there. The guy was a fucking monster and so was Mud.”

“He’s right and obviously, those men in that club are all monsters,” said Frannie, reaching over to grab my hand. She squeezed it. “You were a victim, just like April’s brother, and,” she looked at Tank, her eyes sad, “Krystal.”

The vein in Tank’s forehead began to pulse at the mention of her name. He looked down at his knuckles, in deep thought.

“Exactly,” said Slammer. “And those guys have gotten everything they deserve.”

Frannie sighed and let go of my hand. “I guess what I’d like to know is why on earth would the club go after Mavis?”

“Because of her relation to Raptor,” said Tank, coming to life again. “Pop, we need lock down the women and figure this shit out quickly. Something tells me this fucking asshole, Reaper, isn’t finished.”

“I agree,” he said quietly, looking like he’d aged ten years since taking the phone call.

“Lock down the women?” repeated Frannie, her eyes wide. “Are we in danger, too?”

“Probably not, but we’re not taking any chances,” said Slammer, waving toward the waitress. “We’ve got to go. I need the both of you to follow us to the clubhouse.”

“Why there?” I asked, grimacing. I’d never been to the unsavory place and the stories I’d heard from Adriana were enough to make me never want to visit.

“Because I’m holding a club meeting and right now, I don’t want to let you two out of my sight,” he said matter-of-factly.

Frannie’s lips tightened. “I don’t like to sound like a nag, but you said we were safe from all of this.”

Sighing, Slammer put his arm around her shoulders. “I know and I’m sorry. I thought it was all behind us too. We’re just taking precautions until we know for sure what’s happening.”

“What about the cops? Can’t you just tell them who you think did it?” I asked. “See if they’ll bring this guy, Reaper, in for questioning?”

“It’s not that easy. Besides, you know how it is, Jess, we take care of our own problems,” he said

“This is a repeating problem. One that doesn’t seem to be going away,” I replied, frustrated. “It just gets worse and worse. People are dying and now we have to hide out at the clubhouse? Just because you want to take care of it yourself?”

Now a vein began to also throb in Slammer’s forehead. “You’re not looking at the big picture. The problem did go away and it was because of us.” He smiled grimly. “Care to guess why it’s returning?”

I sighed. “Why?”

“Because of our wonderful justice system. They let that scumbag out of prison and now he’s murdering people,” said Slammer. “That’s what happens when you involve law enforcement, sweetheart.”

“So, what you’re saying is that if you get your hands on him, this will all be over?” I replied. “Again.”

“What I’m saying is that we’ll handle it,” he said sternly. “And if something else happens, we’ll handle that, too.”

I looked at my mother, whose face was chalk-white. “Mom, I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but you said that we’d both be protected from this kind of thing and I don’t know how many times I warned you that something like this was going to happen. Now, we have to go into hiding, because our lives are in danger,” I said, my voice shaky. “Again. Maybe next time you’ll listen to reason instead of what your heart wants you to believe.”

“Don’t come down on her,” said Slammer, before she could answer. “It’s not her fault.”

I snapped my head toward him. “You’re right, there. It’s yours. You told her what she wanted to believe, just so she’d be your ‘Old Lady’.”

“Jessica,” gasped Frannie, staring at me in shock. “Say what you want to me, but don’t talk that way to him.”

Slammer’s shoulders slunk. “It’s okay,” he replied, looking weary. “She’s not completely wrong. I did make promises that I had no right making. I just wanted you in my life, Babe.”

“You can’t blame him for this,” said my mother, ignoring him. “Slammer has done everything that he can to try and protect us, Jessica. You know that.”

“Which isn’t much, apparently,” I mumbled, looking away. “Because we have to go into hiding.”

“Jess, we don’t even know if Reaper is responsible for Mavis’s death,” said Tank. “Hell, we could all be jumping to conclusions.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Tank, could you excuse me? I need to use the bathroom. I’m starting to feel sick to my stomach.”

“Sure,” he said, sliding out of the booth to let me out. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I will be, when I’m far enough away from Jensen. In fact,” I said, standing up. “I’m calling Cheryl, to see if she’d mind if I drove down there tonight.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Frannie, pulling a tissue out of her purse. “You should.”

“I want you to come with me, Mom. At least until the club has… ‘handled it’,” I said, still digging into Slammer.

Frannie shook her head. “No. I can’t leave, right now. There is too much going on.”

“Actually, it’s a good idea,” said Slammer, turning to her. “You should go with her to Cheryl’s. At least for a few days. Tank can follow you both up there. Make sure you arrive safely.”

“But, I can’t just leave my job with such little notice. Not right now,” she protested. “We have an audit coming up, next week. There’s so much paperwork to get ready.”

My mother was an office manager in a nursing home. She’d worked there for over twenty years and had hardly ever missed a day. From what it sounded like, she was the glue that held the entire office together. When she’d returned from her honeymoon, three years before, everything had been a mess. Unpaid bills, lost forms, and money missing from the lockbox.

“Tell them a relative has died and you need to attend their funeral,” said Slammer. “They’ll understand.”

“I don’t know,” she said, frowning.

“If you ask me, we should both get out of town before one of us needs a funeral,” I muttered, walking toward the bathroom.

***

 

Fortunately, Slammer was able to talk my mother into leaving town with me that evening.

“Just for a couple of days,” she said, still looking a little unsure. “I’ll drive separately, of course.”

“Right, and as I was saying in the restaurant - Tank will accompany the both of you to Minnesota,” added Slammer, turning to him. “You’ll skip church tonight.”

“I figured as much,” he said, glancing at me. “How much time do you need to get your stuff together?”

“Not long. I’ve already packed some of it, so maybe an hour at the most?” I replied, my eyes darting around as we walked out of the restaurant. There were hardly any cars around and it was still daylight, but I almost felt like we were being watched.

“How long will it take for you to pack, Frannie?” asked Slammer.

“Not long, although…” she said, looking down at her watch, “it’s getting late. By the time we leave town, it will probably be after nine. Maybe we should wait until morning?”

“No. The more I think about it, the better I feel about you leaving town. Tank, follow the girls home and call me when you get there.”

“Sure,” he said, pulling his keys out of his jeans. “If I’m tailing them to Shoreview, though, I’m going to need to stop home and grab some stuff for the road trip.” Tank still lived in Slammer’s old house, which was close to Griffin’s, the strip joint he owned.

“That’s fine. Just do it after you make sure they get home without issues,” he said.

“I will,” said Tank.

“You okay with this?” I asked him. Tank wasn’t always an easy person to read. Right now, he seemed a little too quiet.

“Of course I am,” he said, breaking into a smile. “Gotta keep Little Sis safe. Not to mention my Momma Bear, over there.”

Frannie smiled. She loved it when he called her that. His own mother had died of cancer when he was two years old and although some of the other club member’s Old Ladies had helped to take care of him, he’d never had anyone else to really call ‘mom’.

“And you do a great job of it, Justin,” she said, this time calling him by his real name. “I’m fearless when you’re around. You’re like our own personal Superman”

“Just don’t be too fearless,” said Slammer, eyeing a dark S.U.V. that was parked but idling across the street. “He’s not bulletproof.”

Mom and I looked at each other and frowned.

Tank laughed and put a hand on her shoulder. “Leave it to Pop to become overly-dramatic. Nobody is going to start shooting at us.”

“They do and I don’t care who’s watching, I’m cleaning house,” said Slammer, still staring at the SUV. “And fuck the Feds or anyone else who tries to stopping me.”

When we reached my mother’s car, Slammer pulled Frannie into his arms and held her tight. “I’m going to miss you, Babe. I wish I could join you.”

“I know, but you’ve got your hands full here in town,” she said softly.

I couldn’t hear his answer. They murmured a few things quietly to each other and then kissed. Afterward, he released her and turned to me.

“Watch over your mother,” he said.

“Of course,” I replied, noticing again how weary he looked. With his gray hair and weathered skin, he suddenly looked much older than fifty-seven. Truthfully, I’d noticed that he’d aged quite a bit, since I’d first met him, three years ago. The drinking, smoking, and stress of being a club president, wasn’t doing him any favors.

Slammer gave me another hug and then nodded toward the red Mustang. “So, you like the car?”

I grinned. “Are you kidding me? I love it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’.” He put his sunglasses on and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I did it for you and your mother. She worries about you so much, you know?”

I glanced at my mom, who was saying something to Tank. “Believe me, I know.”

He walked over to his bike and picked up his helmet. “Happy Wife, Happy Life.”

I smiled.

“Anything goes wrong with the car, you call me.”

“I will,” I said.

“Good. I’m heading out. Call me before you leave, Frannie,” said Slammer.

“I will,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Tank, don’t go back to get your stuff until you’ve secured the townhouse,” said Slammer.

“Will do,” replied Tank, getting onto his motorcycle.

“I’ll meet you both at our place,” I told my mother.

“Okay.”

Waving at the guys, I got into the Mustang and started the engine, enjoying the feel of the leather seats and that new car smell. When I left the parking lot and accelerated, the engine rumbled with power. As much as I was frustrated with what was happening with the club, I had to admit - the car was very nice.