EPILOGUE
New Year’s Eve
They were watching him. His people didn’t stare directly, no, not to his face. They weren’t that stupid, but Slade knew they watched and maybe even laughed at him behind his back. Claudia and Ransom had made him the laughing-fucking-stock of Chatham. He raised the bottle of Jim Beam bourbon to his lips and drank the last of its contents, embracing the trail of fire it shot down his throat. Once finished, Slade tossed it aside to the corner of the bedroom where he sat in the dark. It joined the pile of other empty bottles like it that he’d attempted to soothe his stinging pride with.
He never thought Claudia would ever have the guts to leave him. That she was strong enough to walk away from her friends and family here. The compound wasn’t the same without her. Slade was the Prez, but Claudia was the backbone who set the example for the other Ol’ Ladies, whom Slade now resented. He hated that they were home to welcome their men with open arms, homecooked meals, and on-demand sex. In addition, Slade hated how his sorry state of affairs made the couples appreciate each other even more.
He was a free man now. Free to have all the sex he wanted without the headache of being bitched at by a nagging wife, except Claudia was all Slade wanted now. Headaches and all. He kept waiting for her to walk through the door and tell him that she made a mistake. In Slade’s mind, Claudia would fall to her knees, beg him for forgiveness, and take her back. Generously, Slade would allow her to come home. While down on her knees, Claudia would show him how repentant she was by giving him head. She needed to come back to him. Now that his bad seed was dead, they could finally be happy.
Ransom, however, wouldn’t be allowed back. Slade didn’t care how much Blaze, Jester, or Deke defended that fucker. Ransom would never be an Immortal in his lifetime, as long as Slade drew breath. They say betrayal always comes from within, and Ransom proved that old adage correct. He was the worst of all, lulling Slade into a false sense of security that he could be trusted with leading the club. Then Ransom stabbed him, his own father, in the back by rejecting his bloodline and humiliating Slade in front of his subordinates.
Fucking animal.
His growling stomach reminded Slade that he’d need to eat something if he wanted to continue binge drinking. He grunted as he pushed himself off the bed and grabbed the crutches Deke left him. It was hard maneuvering down the stairs with a broken ankle and arm, but Slade managed it, just barely. He turned on the lights downstairs and ignored the mess of broken picture frames, coffee table, and the holes in the wall. It was a reminder of how ballistic he went when he found out Claudia was gone. Refusing to believe it, Slade trudged up the stairs and only when he saw that all of her stuff was gone did he erupt in a fit of unbridled rage. Using one of the crutches, Slade had singlehandedly destroyed everything Claudia contributed over the years to make this house their home.
He refused to let the club whores come and clean up the mess. It was a reminder of what her defiance had driven him too. Claudia would clean it her damned self when she eventually came to her senses. Slade picked his way over the glass and splintered wood to get to the kitchen, grimacing at the smashed glass cabinet panels and holes in the wall. He opened the fridge and pulled out a dish of casserole Lucy made for him to bake at his convenience. Slade fumbled around in the tilted utensil drawer that he’d smashed downward, for a fork, and leaning against the counter, ate the cold food straight out of the dish.
There was a knock at the door, and Slade surveyed the war zone he’d need to overcome around here and in the living room to answer it and settled for yelling, “It’s open dammit! Enter at your own risk!”
He continued to eat as the door opened, and he heard someone maneuvering then the sweet sound of high heels clicking on the tile floor of the hallway. His heart leaped and his hands shook uncontrollably, so bad that he had to set his food down on the counter. Slade quickly swallowed the suddenly tasteless cold lump of ground meat and noodles.
Claudia was home.
Except it wasn’t his wife. Slade’s eyes bugged at the sight of Lorelai Fitzgerald standing in the midst of his chaos dressed to the nines in a fancy red silk dress and matching high heels. “What in the sam hell are you doin’ here?”
With her nose in the air, Lorelai surveyed the disaster areas with distaste. “Are you redecorating? If not, Claudia has questionable taste.”
Lorelai smirked at his grizzled state. Slade looked like shit on a stick. His blonde silver-streaked hair hung in limp rivulets down to his shoulders, and his beard was matted and looked like it might be harboring small wildlife. Slade’s face resembled broken jigsaw puzzle pieces of bruises from purple to yellow, and his eyes were swollen and puffy, his lips cracked and chapped. “ “I see your son’s skills as an enforcer came back to bite you in the ass.”
“What do you want, Lorelai?” Slade ground out, even while noting that she was a statuesque woman with luxurious curves. Not his type at all. He had a thing for small Hispanic beauties with green eyes and a wickedly mean mouth.
“I wanted to check on you,” she explained. “I heard a rumor that Claudia left you and of an altercation at your shop.” Lorelai wrinkled her nose at him. “I didn’t comprehend how bad everything was going for you. How devastated you must be by this sudden turn of events in your life.” She gave him a saddened smile. “Your oldest son dies, your other son abandons the club, and your wife is having an affair with Rage Glover.”
Slade’s world stopped. Fury roared through his body as he tried to rush Lorelai, but the crutch fell and he stumbled to grab it only to twist on his bad ankle. The pain jarred his body as it shot up his leg, crippling him, and Slade fell to the ground. His good arm landing on a shard of glass from the cabinet doors. It sliced into his skin, but Slade didn’t even feel it. His eyes were brimming with pure hate as he stared daggers of malice at Lorelai. “You’re a goddamn liar! Get outta here, you fucking cunt before I slit your throat!”
Lorelai laughed in his face and gave a mock shiver. “Oooh, how the mighty have fallen! I’m quaking in my big girl panties! There’s no need for hostilities, Slade. I’m the good guy or-er- girl here! Nobody told me shit about my ex-lover fucking your wife! I discovered it on my own! Do you know how that made me feel? Two people I trusted, who were smiling in my face and fucking behind my back when they got the opportunity.” She leveled a pitying stare at him that made Slade’s skin crawl. “I’m sorry for coming here and disturbing your ‘peace’. I just thought you should know in case you were wasting your time pining away for someone who’s obviously moved on.”
“GET. OUT.” Slade picked up the bloodied glass and hurled it at her.
Smoothly, Lorelai dodged it and raised her hands defensively. “I’m going! I’m going! But you should know that she’s not coming back.” She winked at him. “C’mon, Slade! Everyone knows once you go black, you never go back.”
Long after she left, Slade stayed where he was. He recalled Claudia’s recent distance that he’d arrogantly mistook for anger over his transgressions. Then how horny she’d been when they did fuck but that she always kept her eyes scrunched close, refusing to open them until they were done. The night he picked her up from Inferno, she’d been particularly insatiable. Slade’s chest burned with the realization that he’d been the third wheel in his own marriage! Life just kept knocking him on his ass, rolling him over, and not even bothering to apply lube first.
That night, instead of booze, Slade allowed his thirst for vengeance to be his bed warmer while he plotted the ultimate retribution against those who’d crossed him.
***
Diamond life, lover boy
He move in space with minimum waste and maximum joy
City lights and business nights
When you require streetcar desire for higher heights
Lorelai allowed Sade to soothe her wounded pride and with “Smooth Operator” as she sped away from Chatham. There was nothing for her back there. Lorelai knew once she started down this path, there would be no turning back after Pitch opened his mouth. Satisfied with the intel he’d provided, she’d given him Minnie’s keys and instructions to pick Billy up from the airport. Lorelai had provided him with the flight information that she’d found on Marcus’s desk in their office, and ordered Pitch and Digger to take her to the Badlands and wait for her page. How Lorelai wished she would have been able to witness Marcus lose his shit over his daughter’s disappearance! She felt a twinge of guilt, hating to throw Billy to the wolves, but the girl was so gung-ho to come to Chatham that what she got was what she deserved. The same could be said about Pitch and Digger for believing her in the first place. Lorelai had no intentions of contacting them again, knowing that Ransom and Marcus would tie up her loose ends neatly by killing them for daring to disrupt their ‘precious’ Billy’s life.
GAG. Men made her sick with their ‘rules applied to everyone but them’ mentality.
Lorelai could still hear Director Shore laughing in her ear through the phone at her. It was the grating, patronizing, sound from a member of the ‘Boys Only Club’ rubbing her nerves raw and making her blood boil, when she called him regarding Marcus’s resignation the day after she found out.
“Director Shore, Agent Glover’s resignation is unfortunate. Let me assure you that I am ready to step up and absorb his duties and train Agent Hoffsfield—”
That was as far as Lorelai got before she was rudely interrupted.
“That won’t be necessary, Agent Fitzgerald. His replacement will be in the field mid-January. He’s no Agent Glover, but you’ll find him easy to work with.”
“Sir, may I ask why another agent is needed when I have a capable one here ready to make the smooth transition?” Lorelai was trying not to lose her temper. Minnie Hoffsfield deserved a shot.
Instead of answering her, Director Shore answered with, “That’s a damn shame about Glover. I told him I’d bring him in to train and shadow me to eventually take my place, but he declined.”
Astonished, Lorelai parroted stupidly, “He declined??? You offered him that opportunity? What about me, Sir?”
“What about you, Fitzgerald?” The condescending way in which he said it made her temper rise.
“I’d like to be considered for the position. It’s what I’ve been aspiring to.”
Director Shore laughed. “I don’t think that position is for you. With your looks, both you and Agent Hoffsfield are best suited as field agents. Men tend to speak more freely when women with your ‘assets’ are around, Agent Fitzgerald. Keep up the good work.”
Marcus was offered a key position and kept quiet about it. How he must have laughed at how seriously she’d taken her lowly position! Marcus knew she’d never be considered, and that’s what Lorelai couldn’t forgive. Men always underestimated women and their capabilities. Even Pitch thought he was smarter than her. He didn’t even realize that she’d gone through his pockets while he was unconscious and helped herself to the contents. Lorelai no longer minded, though. In fact, that’s what she was counting on.
A license to love, insurance to hold
Melts all your memories and change into gold
His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold No need to ask, he's a smooth operator
Lorelai smiled as she pressed harder on the accelerator. She had an appointment that she couldn’t afford to miss. She’d been busy these past couple of days, and with the groundwork she was laying, Lorelai hoped Chatham and everyone in it burned to the ground.
***
Albuquerque
New Year’s Eve Mass at San Felipe De Neri church was an ethereal experience. The children’s choir sang “Hark The Herald Angels Sing/Gloria (In Excelsis Deo)”, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the congregation as their angelic voices soared.
Ray Vargas, President of the Aztecs MC put a comforting arm around his mother while she wept into her lace handkerchief. This song had been his siblings’ Garcella and Caesar’s favorite Christmas song. Vargas had made a generous donation to the church for them to sing it on his madre Alicia’s, behalf tonight. Garcella’s magnificent voice had been divine to listen to accompanied by Caesar’s exceptional piano playing. Vargas had always gotten a kick out his little brother, tatted up from his face down, eyes closed, face raised to heaven as his fingers glided over the long ivory keys and shorter onyx ones gracefully. They’d gotten their talents from their father, who’d been a music teacher.
Nothing could ever fill the void in Vargas’ heart of losing them this past summer. They, along with several members and prospects of the Aztecs, were murdered, their bodies hidden. But all dark deeds come to light and the bodies were discovered accidentally by explorers. The water had bloated them, and they’d been nibbled on by the underground stream’s inhabitants. Vargas still remembered vomiting in the large industrial sink in the coroner’s examining room upon making the positive identifications. The stress was too much for Alicia. She had a stroke and was bedridden. Tonight was her first night out of the house since that day. Nothing would stop her from hearing the children sing on the cusp of a new year, and Vargas could not refuse her. It was his fault her babies were dead. They’d followed in his footsteps, and Alicia paid the price for it dearly.
Vargas still didn’t know what Garcella and Caesar were doing when they were murdered but he knew it had to with their club and they’d kept it from him. Were they planning to betray him? Vargas didn’t want to think that, but with no answers to his questions--
Alicia’s cries were a welcome distraction from his pained dark thoughts. He observed her pulling out the dog-eared photo of him, Caesar, and Garcella. She held it to her heart, and he listened to her impassioned whisper, “Mi bebes para siempre.”
Yes, they would forever be her babies.
Vargas wanted the scalps of the dog pieces of shit who’d done this to his familia, but no one was talking. Lips loosened quicker when dinero played a factor. It was something the Aztecs didn’t have, but Vargas was hell-bent on acquiring for them, even if it meant getting into bed with Gualtierro Barrera to achieve his goal. He didn’t give a fuck what Slade or Thrasher, Prez of the Death Lords, said about flesh-peddling. Their club coffers were flush. The Aztecs former Presidente had run their funds into the ground, and they were rebuilding, but it was taking them too long. Vargas had a meeting tonight with Barrera to convince that he’d be able to get the product he required.
A tap on his shoulder made him frown. He knew it could only be his VP, Frankie Montoya, who dared to interrupt his time with Alicia. Vargas did not turn around until mass was over and Alicia was secured in her wheelchair and his Tia Andrea wheeled her away.
“Prez, we got a current situation that you might be interested in listening to,” Frankie murmured in his Prez’s ear. “Also, Blaze called to arrange a meeting. The Immortals have some information that they’re insisting we’ll find important.”
“Why didn’t Slade call himself?” Vargas didn’t care for Lawson’s cocky ass and felt he needed to be taken down and could learn some humility. The only reason he tolerated the gringo was because his wife Claudia was Vargas’ third cousin. They weren’t close and never had been, but familia came first and that was enough for Vargas’ to honor the peace treaty.
“He’s indisposed was all Blaze said.”
“I already have a situation that I need to prepare for. Set something up with them for next week,” Vargas smiled at the priest as he passed, bowing his head humbly as the words ‘Que dios te bendiga’ floated over his and Frankie’s heads. Yes, God would bless him tonight. Hopefully in the form of a lucrative partnership with Barrera.
Vargas followed Frankie outside and over to where Lorelai, the co-owner of Chatham’s bar Inferno, stood. “Hola, Lorelai. Feliz Navidad.”
She smiled, and his eyes dropped to the sweet curve of her generous lips. “Feliz Navidad, Raymundo. Sorry to intrude on your family time. I’ve brought you an early Christmas present.”
Vargas eyed the folder in her hand. “Wish I’d known we were tight enough to have a gift-exchanging relationship or I woulda got you something.”
“The only gift I’m looking forward to receiving from you is watching you get justice for your family and club. It’s time.” Lorelai handed over an eight by ten manila envelope, just as a large group of people approached the church entrance and two men separated from it to join her and Vargas, a bodyguard tailing them while the rest of the party dutifully filed into the church.
Right on time, Lorelai thought with satisfaction.
The older, debonair Hispanic man was dressed impeccably in a custom navy suit while his younger male companion wore a black suit. Lorelai knew both suits probably cost her month’s salary. Make that former salary. Immediately, she recognized the older man, and Lorelai became so excited, her nipples pebbled under her red sheath. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, and his eyes darkened before he raised them to meet Lorelai’s.
“Men tend to speak more freely when women with your ‘assets’ are around, Agent Fitzgerald.”
Perhaps Shore was onto something, she mused, purposefully fluttering her eyelashes.
“Forgive my intrusion, Vargas. Who is your lovely companion?” the man spoke smoothly in an accented baritone, never taking his eyes off of Lorelai.
“My name is Lorelai Fitzgerald. And you are?” She offered her hand to him.
He did not disappoint her. Bending over her hand, he pressed a kiss to it before straightening with a charming smile. “Senora, you are an absolute vision! My name is Gualtierro Barrera.” He clasped the younger man on the shoulder and drew him forward. Lorelai did not miss his aversion to being touched by Barrera. “And this is my nephew Nicholas Olente.”
THE END
As I previously stated in my author’s note, The Ties That Bind is a three-part series. All information on upcoming projects will be revealed on the link below.
Author’s Acknowledgements
Readers – I hope you enjoyed TTTB 2! Thank you, for trusting my process and believing in my work! Please know there are so many more adventures ahead of us and I look forward to sharing them all with you!
Karen Kunz – Thank you for understanding my vision and always succeeding in bringing it to fruition. Your talent knows no bounds.
Ideality Consulting – Thank you for your invaluable input, talent, understanding my vision, and your comments, which crack me up.
Patrice Harrison – I’d be lost without you. Thank you for choosing to take this journey with me and putting up with the nuttiness. For talking me down from the crazy ledge instead of pushing me off. You’re priceless and I’m clinging to you like a spider monkey, lol. Thank you for your talent, understanding my vision, invaluable feedback, and sharing the belief that depicting women of color in a strong light is necessary.
My family and friends – Thank you for your endless support and unconditional love. I love you beyond the moon and back. Thank you Emma K., for your invaluable information!