“So, tell me,” I ask, hesitantly. “What’s going on?”
“They were reluctant to let me have a private consultation with my client, but they didn’t have a choice.”
“And?”
“He’s currently being detained and held for questioning.”
For fuck’s sake. Is Luca dragging his heels on purpose just to get a rise out of me. I growl out the next ‘And’ but all I get in return is another fucking ambiguous response.
“He’s following my advice.”
“For fuck’s sake, quit stalling. How is he?” I shout down the phone, my hand grips it so hard that I’m surprised the casing doesn’t crack.
“Calm the fuck down, Colt. You’re going to give yourself an aneurism.”
I take a couple of deep breaths until my temper comes off the boil to a steady simmer. “Just tell me Luca. How’s he holding up.”
“Better than you by the sounds of it. I’m impressed. However much he’s seething below that huge exterior of his, so far, he’s managed to keep his temper under control and not divulged anything that could go against him. Wesson knew to keep quiet until I got there, so everything’s under control.”
“And the charge?”
“Kidnapping and false imprisonment of a Miss Dana Donovan. They’re also trying to pin a statutory rape charge on him too but from what I gather, they don’t have any countable evidence, so it’s her word against his.”
“He didn’t do it,” I say with a fierce confidence, because I know that there is no way Mammoth could have done what the cops are trying to pin on him.
“Of course not,” he replies without hesitation, which reassures me somewhat. I have every confidence in Luca and if nothing else, he’s a straight-talking motherfucker. If he had any doubt at all, he would have said as much. “Look, I need to go. I have things to do. He’s due in court tomorrow morning and I’ll push for bail.”
“We need to get him out of there. He might seem to be under control now, but if they keep him in a confined space for long, he’s going to blow.”
“Never,” his deep, enraged tone of voice, resonates down the line, “underestimate my ability again. Now fuck off, I will see you at the courthouse tomorrow, eight o’clock, sharp.”
Before I can get another word out, the line goes dead and I realise that pissing off Luca Rossi is never a good idea.
Chapter 2
Cannon
The next morning, when I arrive at the courthouse in the central business district of Orlando, I find Luca Rossi leaning against one of the pillars at the entrance of the building. The tall postmodern building is predominantly white stone and glass, with sharp straight lines and curved frontage of the building. Every time I see it, the fact that it’s named after one of the original district judges, Judge George C Young, it hits me how ironic it is that at least one member of the Young Outlaws seems to end up paying a visit to this place every few months. Maybe its only right that we share the same name.
I take the steps two at a time, then walk across the checkered pavement that leads up to where Luca is standing.
“Hey,” I greet him, as with his body slightly turned away from me, I’m not sure he’s seen me coming.
As he turns, he holds up his hand, halting me and it’s then that I see that he has his cell phone to his ear.
“I should know within the hour,” he says in his deep, calm voice with an Italian lilt. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about, not yet anyway.” The response he gets from the caller must be short and sweet, because the next minute he’s sliding the phone back into the breast pocket of his expensive Italian suit jacket.
“Who was that?” The words slip out before I even have a chance to stop them. I should know better than to ask questions when it comes to Mr. Rossi.
“A business associate of mine. Nothing for you to worry about.”
I let out the deep breath of air that I hadn’t realise I was holding. That’s how Rossi makes you feel, like you’re dealing with some goddamn Don of the Italian mafia. There are very few people that puts me ill at ease, but Luca Rossi is one of them.
“It’s nearly eight, shouldn’t we get in there?”
“You can wait out here.”
“Like hell I am,” I growl in response. I take a step closer to him because Mafia or no Mafia, I ain’t taking this shit. “I didn’t come all the way down here at stupid o’clock not to be in there. He’s my fucking brother.”
“Get the fuck out of my face, Colt.” The flat palm of his hand hits me in the centre of my chest, pushing me back. “You’re already like a ticking time bomb ready to go off. Wesson has been charged with a serious felony. The last thing I need is for you to go on some fucked-up rampage and put everything at risk.”
“I won’t, I swear.” I hold out my hands and try and relax my tensed-up body as a sign of my commitment to rein in my temper. “Please Luca, I need to be there for him.”
“Fanculo la mia vita,” he grumbles under his breath. “You say one word, Colt, and I swear to God I will beat your ass with my own two hands, right there in front of the judge. Even if I’m the one who ends up in contempt of court.”
“I won’t say a word.” The way he stands with his hands on his hips, looking at me with bunched eyebrows and eyes as dark as death, I know he’s not convinced. So, it surprises me when he picks up his expensive, leather briefcase from the floor where it’s leant against the pillar and motions for me to follow him into the building.
Entering through the center door, we step into the entrance, past security and through the metal detectors before making our way to the elevator. I’ve frequented this place many times for one reason or another, but still I can’t ignore how impressive it is, inside and out, albeit a bit pretentious for a courthouse. With lighting that reflects from the shiny marble walls, black and white designer flooring, and pictures mounted around the iron clad balcony it screams nothing but decadence and a shit ton of taxpayer’s money.
As soon as the elevator doors close, Rossi turns to me with an expression not too dissimilar to my old headmaster from junior high and he was a fucking tyrant.
“When we get in there, you sit down, and you shut the fuck up. Don’t scowl, groan, or even let out a sigh, do you hear me?”
“I won’t. Fucking trust me. It’s not like I haven’t been in court before. I know how this shit works.”
“Maybe so, but this time they’re going to be talking about your brother. You’re going to hear them accuse him of all kinds of crap that you’re not going to like. You must not react to it, do you understand. It’s imperative that you keep your head down, mouth shut and stay cool.”
I only nod in response, hoping deep down that I can actually pull this off, because by nature my instinct is to defend Mammoth, whatever the situation.
“I know how to do my job, Colt. I’m the best defense lawyer you can get, so don’t fuck up all my hard work. If this goes to plan, Wesson will be knocking back beers in the club house, while riding one of your whores before the sun goes down tonight.”
The judge is a pompous old fart and the prosecutor, a snidey little shit who’s a cocky fucker and hardly looks old enough not to be still suckling off his mother’s tit.
I find myself grinding my teeth when the charges are announced, and it takes all my strength not to throat punch the prosecuting attorney when he goes against Rossi’s request for bail. The fucker sites flight risk, even mentioning the Young Outlaws, his father being the Pres and how the club is renowned for closing ranks when it comes to protecting one of its members. But when Rossi starts spouting about insufficient evidence, a minor lapse in the correct procedures on arrest, namely a lapse in time between manhandling Mammoth into the cop car and reading him his rights, the judge becomes visibly uncomfortable in his seat.
Luca Rossi is a master of his art. Cool, relaxed and far from the bubbling volcano of anger that I am. For me, it’s a fight to stay in control.
When the judge agrees to ba
il, I divert my energy from fighting anger to damping down the urge to smile, laugh and cheer at the top of my voice. But it’s short lived when the Judge reels off the amount of half a million dollars. I nearly choke on my own saliva. Even if we can get a bail bond to help us out, trying to scrape together the 10% - fifty thousand dollars, was not happening. The club would be lucky to get that together in a few weeks, and that would be after having to come clean with Pops about what had gone on with Mammoth, as well as having to convince the tight bastard to channel what money we do have to the cause.
We are fucked.
“I’ll arrange the wire of the funds immediately, so if you can get your clerk to complete the necessary paperwork for my client, because Mr. Gunner will be released today.”
The judge’s back stiffens, his mouth morphing into a less than flattering pose at Rossi’s certitude and impertinence, but still motions to the clerk to do as he asked and before I know it, ‘all rise’ is announced and the judge has left the room.
Sliding out of my seat I make my way over to Rossi.
“What the fuck Luca, I can’t raise that amount of cash today, it’s going to take some time.”
“Like I told the judge, the full amount is being transferred as we speak.”
“You’re covering it?”
“Not me, but my business associate. Unlike you, he has full confidence in my ability and word that I will get your brother cleared of all charges.”
“And who exactly is your associate?”
“That, my friend, is not your worry, because if I do fuck up, then it will be on my head. Now, please tell me you came by car and not that two wheeled monstrosity.”
“My truck is parked in the courthouse car park, why?”
“Because your brother is going to need a lift home.”
After twenty-five minutes and two cups of disgusting vending machine coffee, I can no longer cope with the stifling atmosphere and judgmental looks I’m getting while I wait in the building, so I make my way outside into the fresh air. As impressive as it is, this place gives me the fucking heebie-jeebies and I’m seriously not looking forward to being back here for the court case.
A further twenty minutes or so pass before I see Rossi coming through the exit door with Mammoth in tow. He looks tired with dark shadows under his eyes. His long hair is tied up in a manbun, the silver scar on his face that he usually tries to hide, clear for everyone to see. He looks sad, however, as soon as he sees me a troublesome smile plays across his lips.
“Brother.” I step forward and take his huge frame into a tight embrace, slapping his back a couple of times for good measure. “Welcome back to society. How are you doing?”
“I’m good,” he says between gritted teeth and I instantly feel the tension and frustration in his words. I know my brother and I know that despite his usual inner, gentle nature, he’s about to explode.
“Here,” I pull out a fat Havana from my breast pocket and hand it to him, along with my zippo lighter. “Take a smoke, while I have a quick word with Rossi, then we’ll get you the hell out of here.”
Mammoth nods as he takes the cigar, flicks the zippo lid, and puts the flame to the end and takes in a couple of deep draws. He turns away from me and walks a few steps before standing tall, tilting his head back and letting the smoke slowly slide from his nostrils up into the air.
I turn my attention back to Rossi. “So, what happens now?”
“We wait for a court date; in the meantime, I trust you not to have some half-baked plan to get your brother out of the country.”
“Do I need to? How sure are you that this dirt ain’t gonna stick?”
“I believe Wesson is telling the truth,” he says with confidence. “However, the girl, Dana Donovan, that’s another story but I’ll get to the bottom of it. Trust me Colt, I always get what I want and in this instance it’s your brother cleared of all charges and half a million dollars back with its original owner.”
“Fine, but if you need me to…” my hesitation is enough to make it clear to Rossi exactly what I’m getting at, “do anything, call me.”
“Don’t worry, I will. In the meantime, keep him on the down low. Let the other Outlaws in the club do whatever unlawful activities you’re up to, because one wrong step and Wesson will back in the slammer.”
“Yeh, I get you.”
The sound of some high pitched, operatic warbling comes seeping from Rossi’s breast pocket, what I can only assume is his god-awful ring tone and he moves to retrieve it.
“So, tell me,” I ask before he hits the answer button “What’s the name of the guy who put up the half million?”
“Colt, I can’t tell you that.” The forced smile on his lips soon slides and is replaced by that dark almost demonic look that he seems to have mastered. “Otherwise, I’d have to kill you,” he announces before he turns, walking away while greeting his caller.
I can’t help but laugh as I make my way to where Mammoth is waiting. We walk in silence to the parking lot, but as soon as we get in the truck and hit the highway, I try and get Mammoth to talk, but with the half assed grunts that I get in return, I decide to leave it. For now, anyway.
Mammoth
As soon as we get back to the club house, I make a beeline for my room. I know that Cannon wants answers, but he’ll just have to fucking wait. I need to think, I need to process everything that is swirling around in my head because I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on.
The first thing I do when I get to my room is slip into the bathroom and turn on the shower faucet. The button-down shirt that Rossi insisted I wore for court is already straining at the seams, so I just pull it open, the buttons pop, flying around the room. How the fuck I managed to get into it in the first place is beyond me. I try and relax the muscles in my arms, so I can peel away the cotton fabric but my whole body is tense. Once the shirt is discarded along with the dress pants, I’m naked. I never wear underwear as they piss the fuck out of me. I step under scorching hot water and let it run over the back of my neck and shoulders.
Loading up a washcloth with gel, I begin to scrub away the stench of the cell that I’d resided in for the past couple of days. There are no visible signs of dirt, but I can feel it, and it makes my skin crawl. Next, I grab for the shampoo. The fresh, sweet aroma hits my senses, when I start to massage the soap into my scalp a sense of calmness seeps into my very soul. Before I let my mind take over, I quickly rinse off any remaining suds, turn off the water and step out of the bathtub. With most of my body dried, I wrap the towel around my hips, then grab another to wrap around my head to stop the water dripping everywhere from the ends of my long hair, and go back into the bedroom. It looks like one of the club ladies has been in here, because I find crisp, clean sheets on my bed. Throwing myself down onto the mattress, I close my eyes and give in to my thoughts.
You see, all this is confusing the shit out of me, it doesn’t add up, and it’s crucifying me.
Have I been betrayed? If so, I need to know why. I want answers, but most of all I want what I deserve and that’s justice.
The first time I saw Dana I had no fucking idea who the hell she was, but I had noticed her immediately. I should have realized then that she was going to be trouble. The question is, has all this been worth it? Is she worth it?
Chapter 3
One year earlier
Mammoth
I take a swig of my beer between drawing deep lung filling puffs of smoke off a huge Panama cigar, while a chick bounces on my dick. Even through my exhale of thick, pungent smoke, the pretty, young thing that comes into view, immediately grabs my attention, and I become oblivious to everything else that is going on around me, even the chick in my lap.
I can see that the young girl is a force to be reckoned with in the way she walks with an air of confidence and utter mischief. I continue to watch her as she follows Toothpick up the stairs and enters the building with another girl close behind.
The girl in my lap is doing ab
solutely nothing for me. She’s pretty enough, but it’s just another wet cunt to stick my cock into. It’s not her fault that I tend to get more satisfaction these days by jerking off. She’s obviously getting more of a kick out of gyrating on my junk that I am out of her hot, wet pussy, as my dick isn’t even fully hard.
But when my eyes fall on the sassy short haired siren walking by, it shocks the shit out of me how quickly I feel a tightening in my gut and a stirring in my groin. My semi-hard cock instantly takes notice, sending a rush of blood pumping away from my brain and straight to where it’s needed. I become hard as rock. If it wasn’t for the image of her sending a surge of need to my heavy balls, I might dump the chick and follow her into the club house. But it looks like she was with Toothpick and although he’s only a prospector, I would never shit on a brother for a piece of ass. Not even one as tempting as the sassy, pixie haired beauty that has just piqued my interest.
My need for release doesn’t last, my cock loses some of its firmness, deflating like a kid’s week-old party balloon. The more the bitch bounces the softer I become. It’s like she’s trying too hard. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m distracted, wondering what is happening behind those paint peeling walls, and not what is going on in my lap. The chick whimpers with frustration and I’m not sure if it’s from trying to chase her own release, or because it’s a serious dent to her ego. I let her carry on. I even grip her ass to give her a helping hand as she pumps her body up and down my cock. But when the doors burst open, my brother, Cannon, spilling out onto the porch along with the rest of them, it’s game over.
Cannon is the first to stomp down the steps holding a blonde girl firmly by the arm. Next came Toothpick, but my eyes instantly zone in on the flash of green hair. She’s back and my dick goes from limp too rigid in thirty seconds flat. My first thought is fuck! My second, what the hell has this firecracker and her friend done?
JUSTICE (YOUNG OUTLAWS MC Book 2) Page 2
