CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Brick
After about a forty-five-minute drive west on Interstate Twenty, Shorty pulls into a parking lot in Marshall, Texas. The landscape is flat with lots of trees, and the blazing sun isn’t doing me any favors. Still on my bike, I reach over and grab a bottled water from my saddle bag. I empty the bottle in two drinks, still thirsty.
“What are we doing in the middle of nowhere?” I ask as Shorty as he climbs off his bike.
“Here to meet a client.”
“Client?”
“You’ve been too distracted, brother. Time to put your skills to good use. Our charter doesn’t just run guns and money for the cartel. We actually have a reputation to uphold for doing other things.”
Other things… That part has yet to be completely defined. A black Hummer turns into the lot and I join Shorty, watching as the lone occupant parks and waves. He’s a cowboy, a mile tall, and wearing faded jeans.
“Mornin’, Shorty,” he says.
“Lane Bullock, this is Brick,” Shorty introduces us.
Lane extends his hand and I take it, returning the solid shake and wondering what in the fuck this is all about. The cowboy has a file in his left hand and offers it to Shorty. “Everything you need on Dwight is in there.”
Shorty opens the folder and scans the papers. “Dwight Malcolm. Twenty-eight. This the latest photo?”
I take a look at the picture.
“Yeah,” Lane assures us. “Sonofabitch likes to seduce fifteen-year-old girls—my daughter, his latest victim.”
“Jesus Christ.” I snatch the file from Shorty and take a closer look. There’s a photo of who I guess is Lane’s daughter, pretty little thing with an innocent smile. The very thought of the piece of shit predator getting his hands on a baby like her makes me sick. All I can think about is Starlet and what she went through. Makes me want to kill someone really bad. “What do you want us to do?” I ask Lane.
He gazes at me, his friendly demeanor changes instantly. “Make him disappear.”
I look at Shorty.
“Thought this would be the perfect job for you.”
He thought right. My blood sizzles at the chance to make a difference for once. I nod, close the file, walk to my bike, and tuck the papers in my saddle bag. Shorty shoots the shit with Lane for a few more minutes and then the cowboy gets in his vehicle and drives away.
I light a cigarette and take a deep drag. “You set me up.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Eagle gets all the credit.”
“We’re vigilantes now? Murder for hire?” Not that I mind culling the population, I’d just rather do it on my own terms.
Shorty digs a smoke out of his vest pocket and lights it. “What do you think we are?”
I motion between us. “Me and you?”
“No dumb shit, the club.”
I ignore the insult. From as early as I can remember, I had an obsession for motorcycles. My father bought me my first dirt bike when I was five. As for the charter, MCs were on my radar from the age of fourteen. In the absence of my own family, I was attracted to the idea of brotherhood. What teenage kid wouldn’t be? “Don’t lecture me, old man.”
Shorty laughs. “Still haven’t answered my question.”
“Told you before it’s about the patch … brotherhood.”
“Yeah, that’s a big part of it. It runs deeper, though. And with every Louisiana original that bites the bullet, a piece of the club dies with him.”
“Getting sentimental on me, Shorty?”
“Nah.” He takes another puff off his cigarette and coughs.
“New blood, that’s our future,” I say. “Recruitment is down across the country—with all clubs. We live in a PC world right now, so finding the brightest and most talented prospects is a challenge. I promised Eagle we could increase interest with a little online presence.”
Shorty scratches his head. “Like ISIS?”
“Jesus Christ.” I roll my eyes and fish my cell out of my pocket. I scroll to a website for an MC in New York. “Check this out.”
“Goddamned instant gratification generation,” he complains as he studies the interactive website. “Photo galleries? Music videos? A contact option?”
“The future,” I remind him. “That doesn’t mean the old ways aren’t in here.” I tap my fist over my heart. “If the Iron Norsemen are going to survive the changing times, we need to evolve with it, not fight against it.”
“So it’s true, you’re going to design a website for us?”
“The Facebook page isn’t doing anything. We need to sell club merchandise online, post when we’re having the next run, next fundraiser.”
Shorty shoves my cell at me. “Gonna give live updates when you pull the trigger on that sonofabitch Lane wants dead?”
We exchange frowns.
“Speaking of which…” He hands me an envelope.
I open it and eye the stack of hundreds. “About ten thousand in here.”
“Start over money.”
“For what?”
“Down payment on a cabin? Condo? Something to make you stay in Shreveport, I guess. Eagle doesn’t want you going anywhere. Despite your shitty attitude, he likes the vision you have for the club.”
I attempted a similar plan in Philly, hoping to get the club caught up with technology, but that charter is still dominated by brothers who aren’t open to change. With a young president like Eagle in charge, the possibilities for the Shreveport charter are endless. I shove the money in my inner-cut pocket. “Tell me more about Lane.”
“Local politician and rancher whose brother went to prison for us.”
“For what?”
“Illegal arms deal.”
“Paying back a favor, then.”
“Nope. We consider Lane a friend. He’s offered to lease us some property to build a clubhouse here.”
“Why haven’t we?”
“Too many MCs nearby.”
“What about Dwight?”
Shorty growls. “Used to be a hangaround with the Dead Dogs. Has a long, twisted history with porn and young girls. Only this time, he messed with the wrong one.”
I’ve killed for less. “I’ll take care of it.”
Shorty nods and looks at his watch.
“We have somewhere else to be?”
“Nope.”
“Then let’s go home.” I climb on my bike, but Shorty doesn’t move.
“What?”
“Too early still.”
I slip my sunglasses on and give him a lopsided, go-fuck-yourself grin. “Think I can’t handle myself still?”
“Where that pretty lady is concerned? No.”
I start my bike and give the throttle an angry twist to drown out anything else Shorty has to say about Starlet. I did what Eagle expected, left with Shorty. Not my fault our business didn’t keep us away long enough to avoid running into Silver and the Devil’s Crusaders. Besides, I regret leaving Starlet behind. As I back out of my parking spot, I tilt my head at Shorty. “Coming?”
I take off before he has a chance to answer.
* * *
Starlet
I wake up in a bedroom, Angel and another old lady whispering to each other. My head is foggy but I feel better.
“You’re awake,” Angel says with a smile. “Gave us all a scare.”
“What happened?”
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” she asks.
“I-I don’t know.”
“You threw up quite a bit. Add in stress…”
Oh. My. God. I jerk up, but quickly decide against it when my head starts to swim again. “I-is Silver here?”
Angel nods, and my heart sinks into my stomach. Why did I have to wake up? Maybe I should go on a hunger strike. Judging by the way a day without food affects me, I’d be dead within three days, problem solved. “Has he been in here?”
“No. Eagle asked him to let you rest.”
“How many other Crusaders are with him?”
“Three.”
“Checkers?”
“Yeah.”
I settle back on the pillows again and close my eyes. Checkers is my arch enemy, I think. He used to tail me all the time, keeping watch for Sammy. Never liked or trusted him. “Can I get my things?”
Angel points to the dresser across the room. “Over there, sweetheart. Thought you’d like a change of clothes, too. Something nice to wear for your old man.”
Old man. That title should be reserved for someone I love. Not Silver.
The other old lady starts for the door. “Where are you going, Bridget?” Angel asks.
“Promised Eagle I’d get him when Starlet woke up.”
“Okay.” Angel waits for her to leave before she turns and takes my hand. “Sometimes I’m not trusted enough, see?”
“I don’t believe it.” She’s just emotionally invested in my situation, that’s all. Eagle had the foresight to know she’d prevent my reunion with Silver as long as she could.
“From what I heard, Eagle requested a formal sit down with Silver.”
“Really?” I lean up on my elbows. “Why?”
“I can only guess. Maybe some of what I told him sunk in last night.”
“What did you say to him?”
Angel shakes her head. “Better you don’t know.”
“Please.”
She gazes at me. “I asked him if he’d be able to live with your innocent blood on his hands.”
Along with respect, I now love this girl. Besides Juanita, no other woman has gone out of her way for me. Sure, the Devil’s Crusaders old ladies would comfort me after Sammy beat me or humiliated me, but only after the men were gone—only if they were guaranteed safety before the fact. But Angel, a virtual stranger, she forced her old man to think about his actions—about the following consequences.
“Thank you,” I cry, crawling out of bed and finding the strength to throw my arms around her.
She pulls out of my arms and looks at me. We’re about the same height and size, minus her rounded tummy where her baby is growing. “Eagle isn’t happy with me right now, Starlet. He never likes it when I call him out on something. He prides himself on being fair. But all great men stumble sometimes.”
“Sammy didn’t just stumble, he fell down and never got back up.”
We both laugh uncontrollably. Someone taps on the door.
“Come in,” Angel calls.
The door swings open and Eagle fills the doorway. “Sounds like you’re feeling better, Starlet.”
I consider his presence. He’s young and handsome—and brutally direct.
“As good as I’m ever going to feel again,” I throw at him, hoping to play on his sympathy and guilt.
His hollow chuckle is a clear indicator that he doesn’t appreciate my passive-aggressive approach. “I feel sorry for your past, Starlet. I can’t imagine what it felt like having your childhood end so abruptly. But don’t attempt to manipulate me with guilt. I don’t know you, and my club is my life.”
Angel stares at her husband, then squeezes my hand. “It will be all right.”
“Silver is getting restless.”
“Do I have time for a quick shower?” I ask Eagle.
“Yeah.”
Angel follows him out of the bedroom, and I sit down on the edge of the bed, panic and fear swirling together inside my head, and apparently in my tummy too, because I feel like I need to throw up again.