CHAPTER THIRTY

 

It was mid-afternoon as the line of bikes slowed and made the turn onto Champagne Street, past the sign with the arrow that read St. Tammany Parish Corrections Facility, past all the rinky-dink bail bonds shops, rolling right past the sign that warned all vehicles entering beyond this point were subject to search. They slowed at the concrete building on the left with the polished metal lettering above the entrance that read St. Tammany Parish Jail and backed their bikes to the curb in the spots posted One Hour Visitor Parking.

Blood climbed from his bike, his shades aimed at the lone Channel Five News SUV parked several spots to their right. He recognized the female reporter in the passenger seat. He assumed the driver must be her cameraman.

Mooch moved next to him, pulling a toothpick from his mouth. How that man rode with a toothpick in his mouth, Blood had no clue.

“Ain’t she that bitch from the report?”

“Looks like it.” Blood grinned. “Why don’t you go give her an interview she’ll never forget.”

Mooch chuckled. “I’d like to give her something she’d never forget, but it wouldn’t be an interview.”

Blood huffed out a laugh. “Tell her you’re Willie Nelson, done gave up country music to join the Evil Dead. Bet she’d believe it.”

“Well, I can sing a note or two.” Mooch eyed her. “How much time we got?”

“Enough for you to keep us all entertained. Go on, I need a good laugh.”

Mooch moseyed over to her door, motioning for her to roll the window down. Surprisingly she did. But she also raised one eyebrow and gave him a glassy stare. “Can I help you?”

“Hey darlin’, you gonna put us all on the five o’clock news?”

She gave him a bitch of a smile and bit out, “Did you come over here to spill the beans to me on all your illegal activities?”

Mooch huffed out a laugh. “Not hardly.”

Jerking the cuffs of her white shirt down, she aimed her gaze out the windshield. “I didn’t think so. Perhaps you came over because you saw an attractive woman.”

Mooch shrugged and grinned. “I mean I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“Were you going to talk to me on camera?”

“Maybe.”

“You must really think I’m an idiot.”

“Well, your words.”

Her expression turned to ice just as a female sheriff’s deputy walked up the sidewalk and stopped. “Step back from the SUV, sir, and mind your own business or you’ll be inside next to your friend.”

When he didn’t immediately step back, she unsnapped her holster, daring him to disobey her.

The brothers all started hooting and begging her to arrest him.

Mooch backed off, his hands in the air, grinning.

When he returned to Blood’s side, Blood could barely hide his amusement. “Almost kind of wishing she shot you.”

“Blow me.”

The glass doors opened up, and Richardson walked out with Undertaker. Cheers went up among the brothers as they saw their President. He was enfolded with many bear hugs and back slaps.

Blood studied the grin that split Undertaker’s face. The man was happier than he’d seen him in a long time, but the circles under his eyes gave away the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping much.

He scanned the crowd, finding Blood and moving to him. “Thought maybe AJ would be with you.”

“She’s waiting for your call.” Blood dug his phone out of his pocket and passed it to him.

Undertaker took it, his thumb moving over the screen as he asked, “She doin’ okay?”

“She’s been a nervous wreck, waiting for you to be released, but she’s holdin’ it together. Been stayin’ with one of her girlfriends. They’ve rallied around her.”

Undertaker nodded, putting the phone to his ear, his eyes scanning the horizon. He frowned, pulling the phone down and trying again. “It’s goin’ straight to voicemail.”

Blood had no answer for him on why she wouldn’t have picked up. “Hey, let’s just head that way. I know where the girl’s house is.”

Undertaker nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Mount up boys!”

 

***

 

When they hit Slidell, the boys headed back to the clubhouse and Undertaker, Blood, Mooch, and Sandman all broke from the pack. Five minutes later they were rolling down Oakton.

As they rounded the corner, they were met with the sight of several patrol cars and unmarked vehicles parked at the address AJ had given Blood. When they pulled to the curb, Blood had to almost tackle his President to keep him from running halfcocked into the house. He got in front of him. “Take a fucking breath, Prez, and think this through. You just got released; she’ll freak if these cops arrest you and send you right back to lock up.”

“Fine.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Find out what the fuck is going on.”

Blood nodded and headed toward the officers, who held him back from entering. “Is Dr. AJ Carter here?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“A friend.”

“Oh, really. Well, the detectives are gonna wanna talk to you.”

“What for? What’s going on?” Blood snapped as the black detective AJ had spoken with at the clubhouse came walking out of the house, heading straight for his President.

“You! This is all your fault. The minute she met you all these bad things started happening to her!”

Undertaker, who’d been pacing and trying her cell again, whirled toward him. “Where’s AJ? Is she inside? Let me see her.”

The detective looked at him like he was crazy. “She’s not here! They took her!”

The blood drained from Undertaker’s face and his body went solid as he growled, “Who took her?”

“Two men in ski masks.”

Undertaker’s hands carved through his hair, holding it back then releasing it. He felt lightheaded. “Holy fuck. When?” he snapped.

“Last night. Just after dinner. You know anything about that?”

He felt his mouth go dry. “No. You have any leads?”

“Stay out of this. This is an investigation.” Williams got in Undertaker’s face. “If she hadn’t met you, this wouldn’t have happened. I hope you’re happy.” He shook his head. “Why the hell she’d be an alibi for a piece of shit like you, I have no idea. But if I find out you are in any way involved in this, I’ll make sure you end up back in prison where you belong.” He stalked off.

Undertaker motioned Blood over. “I know who did this.”

Mooch and Sandman gathered close.

Undertaker stared at Sandman. “That house I had you stake out… you remember how to get there?”

“Yeah, it’s on Pine View.”

He looked to Mooch. “It’s Ronnie LaMonte. I’d bet my life on it. That son-of-a-bitch has been one step ahead of me this whole game.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s been behind all of this. The fire was a setup to send me back to Angola. He must have heard I was being cleared of those charges, so he’s moved on to plan B.”

“When’d you figure all that out?”

“I had some time on my hands lately,” he snapped with a sarcastic edge.

“And what do you figure plan B is?”

Undertaker shook his head. “I don’t know, but whatever it is it involves using AJ to get to me. We need to get to her before he hurts her.” He pinned them with a look. “I lost Angie all those years ago.” He paused, shaking his head. “I can’t lose AJ, too.”

“Then you won’t,” Mooch promised with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, we’re going to find her. We won’t stop until we do,” Blood promised.

Undertaker nodded, meeting Blood’s earnest gaze. Then he glanced at Mooch and jerked his chin toward the house. “You wait here. Give us twenty minutes head start, then give them LaMonte’s name and address.”

“You got it.”

Undertaker turned toward his bike.

“Hey, Prez, be careful,” Mooch called to him. “This one’s personal; don’t let that have you taking irrational chances.”

Undertaker nodded.

Mooch’s eyes shifted to Blood, his brows arching, and ordered, “Watch his back.”

“Always, VP.”

The three bikes roared off, Sandman leading the way.

 

***

 

Sandman held his arm up, slowing his bike to a crawl. Blood knew why. He didn’t want the roar of the motorcycles to give them away. They rolled to a stop on the side of the road, two blocks away.

Dismounting, Undertaker snapped, “Where is it?”

“This way.” Sandman led them at a jog over to the next block, and through some trees until they were close enough to see the back of the house. They ducked down and snuck up the driveway of the house behind it, coming up along the garage.

Sandman peered around the corner. “Drapes are drawn on the sliding glass doors in back. There’s a car there, but it ain’t the Buick.”

“How do you want to play this?” Blood asked Undertaker.

“I bet ya the sliding door’s unlocked,” Sandman advised. “Let’s try that way.”

Undertaker started to move, but Blood held him back. “You think I’m lettin’ you walk in there, you’re crazy.”

“You think I’m not goin’, you’re the one that’s crazy. She’s my woman.”

“Which is why you should wait here.”

“You try and stop me I’ll put a bullet in you. Move.”

“You got a kid on the way. Gonna need a father.”

“If she’s in there, she needs me. Now get the fuck out of my way. That’s an order.”

Blood dropped his arm.

Undertaker jumped the fence and dashed head-down toward the back of the house.

“Stubborn son-of-a-bitch, ain’t he? Kinda reminds me of you.” Sandman looked to Blood.

Blood glared at him and snapped, “Let’s go.”

As predicted, the door was unlocked. Sandman slid it open a crack and listened. There was dead silence. He quietly pushed it the rest of the way and they moved inside. They could hear footsteps moving around upstairs.

Blood pointed to the ceiling. Undertaker nodded. Blood started for the stairs, but Undertaker grabbed his arm, shaking his head, then he moved to the stereo and flicked it on, cranking the volume all the way up. Sandman and Blood took up positions on either side of the arched doorway to the back family room. Undertaker sat in a chair, his gun in his hand, and waited until the bait drew their prey.

Ronnie came pounding down the stairs. “Motherfucker, what are you doing back here? I told you to stay away, Donnie!” He stalked into the room, and froze when two muzzles were pressed to each side of his face. “What the fuck?”

Undertaker reached back, never taking his eyes off Ronnie as he turned a lamp on and the stereo off. “Well, if it isn’t little Ronnie LeMonte. I hear you been lookin’ for me.”

“How’d you find me?”

“I’m a smart man.”

“You ain’t smart enough to keep yourself from being arrested, you ain’t smart enough to keep me off your tail, and you definitely ain’t smart enough to save your ol’ lady.”

“We’ll see.” He jerked his chin at Sandman who left Ronnie in Blood’s capable hands and headed upstairs to search the place.

Undertaker stood and grabbed Ronnie by a fistful of shirt and shoved him down in the chair, then lifted his gun and pressed the muzzle to Ronnie’s forehead. “Where is she?”

“You know I’ve dreamt of this. You wanting something from me… watching you squirm like a worm on a hook.”

“I’m so flattered that you dream of me. I haven’t given you a thought since I left Angola.”

“You have your perfect life, don’t you, Mr. Big Shot MC President?”

“Look, if you have some kind of score to settle, game on. I see no need to bring her into this.”

Ronnie laughed. “It may not be necessary, but oh it is so much fun.”

“There an end game to all this?”

“Just to make you suffer, like I suffered every day I had to sit in solitary confinement because of you. I could have gotten away. I could have been home in time to see my mama before she died. None of that happened. Because of you.”

“You are so full of shit!”

“I never saw her again, and now I’m gonna see how you like it. You’re never gonna see your little hottie again either. Then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“You piece of shit.” Undertaker pressed the gun harder into his forehead, hard enough to leave a mark. “I’m not here to listen to your bullshit. You need some motivation? Look at my face and ask yourself how long I’m gonna be patient. You got a death wish? Cause I can grant it.”

“Who’s the biggest badass? Guess we’re findin’ out tonight,” Ronnie sneared.

“If you don’t give me back the girl, I’ll do you right here and I can make it very painful.”

Ronnie laughed. “You’ll never find her. My brother doesn’t hear from me in the next hour, he kills her. That’s the plan. You pull that trigger, you’ll never see her alive again.”

Undertaker huffed out a laugh. “See, Ronnie, you got the mistaken idea that you’re gonna see daylight tomorrow.”

“Oh, I think I will. That is if you want your honey to see that same daylight tomorrow.”

“What’s his fuckin’ deal?” Blood asked.

Undertaker grinned. “Little Ronnie LeMonte? Oh, he’s had it in for me for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Fuck you. And fuck that little bitch of yours, too. Or maybe I already have.” He gave Undertaker a big smile and licked his lips.

Undertaker pistol-whipped him, and Blood was sure his president was going to kill the man.

“You still pissed about your little failed prison break? That what this is about? Heard you missed your mama’s funeral. Too bad you had to go and put that guard in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Collins was one of the good ones. He had a family. Wife and two little girls. You beat him near to death with that shovel. You fucked him up so bad that he’ll never be right in the head again. Took everything from him and for what? Because you could? He was already down on the ground, and still you kept on beating him.”

“That why you turned me in?”

“I didn’t fuckin’ turn you in, you sniveling little rat. I just made sure the cart you were supposed to be driving that day returned without it’s driver.”

“I tied that mule to a tree.”

“And I untied him.”

“You fucking cocksucker! I would have gotten out of that hellhole if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re so full of shit. You never would’ve made it out of the woods, don’t matter how many more minutes head start you had. Once they released the dogs, your ass still woulda been caught. Ain’t nobody makes it past the bloodhounds.”

Sandman came back in the room and shook his head. “She ain’t here. Searched top to bottom.”

Blood saw Ronnie eyeing the several guns lying on the coffee table next to the black ski mask he’d used last night.

Undertaker saw him, too. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I say we break all his fingers. He’ll talk,” Blood sneered.

“So your last plan failed. What was this new one?” Undertaker asked.

Ronnie grinned. “Figured I’d step up my game. You won’t walk so easily on murder charges.”

Undertaker’s jaw tightened. “You’re gonna kill her?”

“Maybe I already did.”

Undertaker pulled his chin to the side, his eyes narrowing, playing bluff with a poker face that Blood had seen the man use with skill. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not buying that one. You’d want her alive. You’d want to do it in front of me. That’s more your style.”

Ronnie’s smile disappeared, and his face gave away the truth in that statement.

Sirens could be heard in the distance, the sound growing louder as the vehicles approached quickly.

“Check the front,” Undertaker snapped at Sandman, who moved to follow orders.

Moments later, the house was lit up with blue flashing lights that shown in the windows.

“They brought the whole crew from Oakton,” Sandman hissed. “They’re moving to take up positions.”

Blood hit the lights, plunging the room in semi darkness, but a light remained coming from upstairs.

Undertaker held his gun on Ronnie. “Maybe we both go to jail tonight.”

Ronnie grinned. “Maybe we do. Ain’t gonna help your lady.”

Blood moved to the edge of the drapes, checking the back. “They’re surrounding the place.” He looked over at his President. “You got a plan?”

Undertaker nodded toward Ronnie and picked up the roll of duct tape from the coffee table and tossed it to Blood. “Cover his mouth.”

Ronnie huffed out a laugh. “Why? You think I’m gonna scream? I don’t have to. They’re comin’ in any second.”

Blood wrapped the tape around his head, shutting him up.

Undertaker picked up the ski mask, eyeing Ronnie with an idea.

“What’s that?” Blood asked, nodding to the key that lay on the table under it.

Undertaker picked it up. The key dangled from a plastic keychain that read Star Motel on one side, and Unit #1 on the other side. “A key for the Star Motel.” He grinned at Ronnie. “Bingo.”

Ronnie moved to lunge from the chair, but Blood held him.

“Tape his left arm across his chest.”

“Just one?” Blood grappled with him. “You wanna help?”

Undertaker restrained his other arm while Blood wrapped him like a mummy.

“Now what?” Blood asked.

Undertaker pulled the ski mask down over Ronnie’s face. “Grab that 9mm over there and take out the cartridge.”

Blood quickly complied. “Done. And?”

“Give it to me. And hold him.” Undertaker grabbed up a coat and wrestled Ronnie into it. He had one arm in the sleeve, while the other sleeve hung empty. He zipped it up. Taking the unloaded handgun, he shoved it in Ronnie’s right hand and duct taped it in place.

Ronnie apparently started to catch on, because he began trying to talk behind the tape that covered his mouth, struggling to break free.

A voice over a megaphone yelled, “Ronald LaMonte, come out with your hands up.”

Blood stared at Undertaker. “They’re takin’ their time.”

“They think AJ is in here. They’re gonna be careful.”

Undertaker wrapped one more loop of duct tape under the empty sleeve around the chest and over the right arm at the elbow.

Blood looked at him in confusion, but Undertaker just smiled. “Make sure he can’t rip the mask off. Help me get him to the door.”

They each took a side and hustled Ronnie toward the front of the house.

Sandman watched through the crack in the drapes. “We’re balls deep in shit, boys.”

Blood glanced at him. “You just figurin’ that out?”

“They’re gettin’ mighty jumpy out there, Prez.”

“Good,” Undertaker replied.

“You sure this is gonna work?” Blood asked.

“Pretty sure.”

“I’m comin’ out!” Undertaker shouted. “Don’t shoot.”

“Open the door slowly!” came the order.

Undertaker grinned at Blood. “Yeah, that ain’t happening. Sandman, check the back.”

A moment later Sandman reported in a whisper, “They’re all pulling to the front.”

Undertaker looked at Blood. “We shove him out the door and hightail it over that back fence as fast as possible. You ready?”

Ronnie screamed behind the tape, the veins in his neck bulging.

“See you in hell, Ronnie,” Undertaker said. They opened the door and shoved him out.

“Drop the gun! Put your hands up!”

Ronnie did the instinctive thing and tried to raise his arm, but the tape at his elbow wouldn’t allow him to do more than bring the gun taped to his palm level with the officers.

They opened fire, and he shook like a puppet on a string as round after round riddled his body.