A Desperate Man

by Tia Fielding

  Day had no news, or so Quinn assumed, because he couldn’t get hold of his handler. And then the next morning, as he got ready to head to Karen’s for the funeral arrangement stuff, Charlie messaged him.

  I swear I heard a bike when I got out of my car at the diner just now.

  She was opening the diner with the owner, it was barely six in the morning, and already she could hear them?

  Quinn frowned. Keep an eye out. Actually…

  He changed into the group message he had going on with Aaron and Charlie.

  Q: Charlie heard a bike in town.

  Almost immediately, his phone dinged.

  Aaron: Shit. What do we do?

  Charlie: I’m going to work. I can’t not, you guys know that.

  Suddenly, Quinn wanted to put his fist through his windshield.

  Q: You need to be ready to leave. Tonight.

  Aaron: What time? I’m all packed. I can get Charlie and Lennox because I have a better car.

  Q: The funeral is at midday. I’ll be stuck with that until probably four or something, there’ll be a lot of people.

  Charlie typed something, the little dots disappearing before she continued.

  Charlie: We meet across the road from Aaron’s at seven thirty. If one of us doesn’t make it, the rest leave. For safety.

  Quinn wanted to weep with relief, suddenly. Even if he wouldn’t live, they’d leave. He was so fucking grateful.

  Aaron: Okay. We’ll figure out which car we take once we know who’s going. Charlie’s is a POS, mine is a bit better. Yours is…eh.

  Q: Hey, stop dissing my wheels, man. Okay, seven thirty tonight. Stay safe. And let me know if you see or hear anything, I’ll try to keep an eye on my phone.

  Charlie: Go handle the funeral.

  Aaron: Be careful, Quinn. Please.

  Q: I’ll do my best.

  * * * *

  Aunt Karen was ready for whatever would come, that much was obvious. She looked Quinn in the eye, gave him orders on what to do to help with the funeral, and then went to do her own thing.

  Arthur, Eric, and Henry came by at nine, and all of them were clearly affected by Uncle Ian’s death. Arthur the most, of course, and Quinn couldn’t help but to hug him briefly when he caught Arthur in Ian’s study just before ten.

  “You ready to leave?” Quinn asked him quietly.

  “As soon as we get the last guests out of this house, I’m putting your aunt in my car, we’re getting my Therese, and we’re going.”

  “Good. I’m taking everyone that’s mine and leaving tonight, too.” There was no shame in admitting as much. “I hate to leave it all in Jimmy’s hands, but…”

  His cell phone buzzed loudly in the relative quiet of Uncle Ian’s study, and he frowned apologetically.

  “I don’t mind,” Arthur assured him and went back to checking something at Ian’s desk.

  Charlie: Two bikers with vests just marched past the diner windows.

  Q: Stay safe.

  Quinn cursed out loud, making Arthur look at him sharply.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Bikers in town,” Quinn replied, briefly wondering what Arthur’s reaction would be and how he could get a message of this to Day when he hadn’t actually brought his burner phone to the MacGregor house.

  Arthur stopped what he was doing, let his head drop a bit, and then cursed out a storm under his breath. “That fucking little rat! I swear if I had the manpower he does, I’d take him down myself…”

  Quinn shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. You’re retiring tonight, Arthur. Don’t do anything rash today, not even when you really feel like doing something to teach him a lesson. Think of Ian, okay? Think of Therese and you guys’ kids and grandkids.”

  Arthur took in a few deep breaths, then looked at Quinn. “You’re right. I can’t do anything to bring hurt to them.” He put away the papers he’d been examining. “Thank you, Quinn.”

  In that moment, Quinn wanted to come clean. But he couldn’t. Quinn had been born MacGregor, but he wasn’t one anymore. Now, he was a worse enemy than Jimmy; a cop. If he told Arthur that, as much as it would break Arthur’s heart, he’d get rid of Quinn. It would be fast, probably merciful if for nothing else than as a show of respect to Quinn’s mother, but he’d end up in a shallow grave in the desert before he could get a word to Day to look for him.

  Of course, Quinn would try to go out guns blazing, literally or figuratively, but he had no doubt in his mind how he’d be accepted if anyone in this house knew. It was all about the unspoken code that the family came first, up until someone betrayed their ideals. Becoming something opposite of what the MacGregor legacy had been for a few generations now was the worst thing Quinn could’ve done.

  Even being queer and fucking the late sheriff’s son were things the MacGregors could see past because of the fact that he was Robert’s son. But no son of a MacGregor would ever disgrace their family name like this and live to tell the tale.

  There were raised voices in the front of the house, and Quinn and Arthur quickly moved there.

  Jimmy was standing right inside the door, swaying on his feet with a troubled looking Caroline hovering behind him.

  “Are you going to behave?” Karen asked, her voice steel and her back ramrod straight.

  “He’s going to behave,” Caroline replied in Jimmy’s stead. “Right, Jimmy?”

  It was barely ten, two hours until the graveside service, and Jimmy was drunk. Then again, if Quinn had killed his own father, he might’ve been drunk too.

  Jimmy grunted, then stepped forward and laid eyes on Quinn and Arthur. Something dark twisted his expression then.

  Two of Jimmy’s guys, Zeke and Mason, stepped inside, hovering awkwardly behind Caroline.

  “No. Absolutely not,” Karen said. “You boys are welcome at the graveside, but not under this roof.”

  Quinn stepped closer to Karen on instinct.

  Zeke and Mason looked at Jimmy who swayed again and headed to the couch. “You heard her.”

  They glanced at Quinn with clear distrust in their expressions, and left the house.

  Caroline was about to follow Jimmy when she changed her mind and walked to Karen instead.

  “I’m sorry. I tried my best to keep him sober, but….” She looked this close to wringing her hands theatrically. Her little black dress was showing her ample curves in a way not completely suitable for a funeral, but Quinn didn’t give a fuck.

  “Get him water and Gatorade from the fridge.” Karen gave Caroline a once over, then huffed. “And at the cemetery, try not to take all attention from my husband’s coffin.”

  Caroline jerked as if she’d been slapped, and quickly went to get the drinks to sober up Jimmy.

  * * * *

  Within an hour, the priest was there, as were several members of the MacGregor family or clan or whatever you chose to call it. Ian’s organization. The one that would be Jimmy’s as soon as Ian was in the ground, unless someone challenged Jimmy.

  Nobody was going to, although some of the old school guys, ones that had been part of Robert’s crew and were still in the family business but more on the sidelines, tried to make small talk with Quinn. He always bowed out fast, pretending to need to make sure this or that was ready for after the graveside service.

  He didn’t have it in him to act as if he was proud of Robert, when he hated the man’s guts.

  Jimmy sobered up slowly but surely, and by the time the caterer from town arrived to make sure everything would be ready for when they came back from the cemetery, he looked almost sharp eyed once more.

  Quinn realized he was doing Jimmy’s job; taking care of Karen and making sure she was fine, greeting guests and talking with the caterer when Karen went to powder her nose—or probably to have a good cry somewhere.

  To think that they would have been in this situation within months at the latest, and Jimmy would’ve been the one comforting his mother if he just hadn’t become so fucking anxious to
seal whatever deal it was he had with the Burned Skulls. If he hadn’t shot his father.

  It was the elephant in the room, and Quinn, for all he hadn’t been around his cousin for a decade, could tell that it grated on Jimmy. Not that he’d killed Ian, no. It was more about how everyone who had respected and even loved Ian was carefully not making eye contact with him. They were ignoring Jimmy, and Quinn silently pitied and hated him in equal measures.

  * * * *

  The service itself was exactly what Quinn had expected, and not. Half of the town was there, because while the MacGregors had brought crime and fear into Spruce Creek, Ian had been fair and liked. He’d kept them safe from outsiders, from the unknown, and small-town people appreciated that and wanted to pay their respects.

  The words the priest spoke were humorous, less about God and sin and more about Ian growing up in Spruce Creek and his family and friends. Quinn was pretty damn sure Karen had had words with the priest or Ian had talked to the man beforehand. A less lenient man of God wouldn’t have been welcomed to this particular graveside, for sure.

  Quinn watched the people gathered around. There were misty eyes, a few were crying openly and not just Karen. And then there was Jimmy, who stood there, stoic and mostly sober, staring at the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. Then he turned to Caroline and said something, his expression remaining the same.

  The gathering at the house was surprisingly joyous. People seemed intent to not be sad, and maybe that had been Ian’s wishes, too. They told stories of Ian and how he’d helped people, or the mischief he’d gotten into as a youth.

  Around three, Jimmy and Caroline bowed out. Quinn was outside, saying bye to some of the guests when Jimmy stopped by his elbow.

  “Come see me at the warehouse tonight.”

  “Across from the junkyard?”

  “Yeah,” Jimmy said, not even surprised Quinn knew exactly where his base of operations was located. “Seven okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

  Jimmy clapped his shoulder once and walked to his car where Caroline was already waiting.

  Shit.

  He glanced around and then dug out his phone, hoping not to seem disrespectful as he quickly typed a message to the group.

  Q: I have to go see Jimmy tonight at seven. He’ll come looking if I’m not there. I’ll be careful, I promise. See you at seven thirty. Stay safe.

  His phone buzzed a couple of times in his pocket as he went inside to mingle some more. He hoped to fucking God or whomever was listening that this wasn’t Jimmy’s way to take him out, because he wasn’t ready to go, but he would if it meant keeping Aaron, Charlie, and Lennox safe.

  * * * *

  He didn’t manage to get in touch with Day, but he sent the guy a message from his burner saying that he was going to meet with Jimmy and then get out of town.

  The fact still stood that Quinn didn’t have a clue what Jimmy wanted. He hadn’t seemed hostile at the funeral, even when telling him to come over, but that could just be bluffing. Not all snakes had rattles.

  Charlie sent him a text telling him to stay safe around six. Quinn just sent her back a heart emoji. He packed up the little stuff he had into his car and grabbed his badge from the hidey hole. Then he took the rest of his stocked cat and human foods to old Ezekiel next door.

  “You leaving town?” Ezekiel asked, his expression neutral.

  “Yeah. Now that Ian’s buried and Karen and some others are leaving town, there’s nothing for me here,” Quinn said as he carried the small box into Ezekiel’s kitchen. Then he turned to look at the old guy thoughtfully. “Do you know Benny Kyle?”

  Ezekiel smiled dryly. “As much as anyone knows anyone else in this town. Why?”

  “His daughter and grandson are leaving town tonight, too. I’m just thinking who I could tell to keep an eye on Benny, make sure his rent is paid.” Quinn leaned to the counter. “I can’t give him money because we all know where that’d go.”

  “Meth,” Ezekiel spat the word out. “Ain’t it time for that Charlie to just let the man be?”

  “It’s her dad.”

  Ezekiel shrugged. “And so what?” Then he waved his hand as if swatting a mosquito. “Never mind. None of my business. I’m gonna say this, though.” He peered at Quinn seriously. “She wouldn’t want you meddling. I bet she’s made a plan for him already, you just don’t know about it.”

  Quinn shook his head in defeat. “Maybe. Look, here’s some money for Shadow. If you need it. If not, buy some groceries.” He put a hundred bucks next to the box. “I got to go. Take care, Ezekiel.”

  “You too, Quinn MacGregor.”

  It’s Quinn Byrne, not MacGregor.

  Quinn said bye and left the trailer.

  On his way to the warehouse, he spotted the sheriff’s cruiser parked in one of the numerous dirt lots by Main Street. He made a split-second decision and swung into the lot.

  When he got out of his car, Sheriff Will Henderson was leaning against his cruiser, looking at Quinn with a frown on his face.

  “Sheriff Henderson,” Quinn said politely, tilting his head.

  “Quinn MacGregor, what can I do for you?” Henderson’s tone was even, but his eyes were suspicious and careful.

  “I wonder if I could ask a favor, sir.” Quinn walked closer and made sure Henderson could see his hands at all times.

  “What could that be?”

  “Here’s the deal; I’m heading into whatever Jimmy wants to talk with me, then I’m leaving town. I was here to keep an eye on what’s going on, but I’m leaving tonight with Aaron, Charlie, and her kid.”

  Henderson frowned. He stared as Quinn reached into his back pocket and pulled out his badge.

  “You’re a cop?” Henderson asked, his tone belying his surprise.

  “Yep. Undercover one. And in case I don’t make it out of town tonight, you need to call my handler to let him know.”

  Henderson’s face lit up with genuine shocked amusement. For a moment he looked like a movie star. Then he shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Yeah, not exactly what you were expecting, I’m sure.” Quinn opened the passenger’s door of his car, grabbed a piece of scrap paper off the floor, and turned back to Henderson. “Can I borrow a pen?”

  Henderson handed his over, and Quinn wrote down Day’s number, the official one.

  “Here you go. If I don’t make it to Aaron’s before they leave in…forty-five minutes or so, call Day.” Then he tacked on, “Please.”

  Chuckling, Henderson took the pen and the note, then nodded. “Will do. You sure you don’t want backup from us?”

  “No. I don’t know what he wants. I’m here for information only and this is the only way for me to get out of town right now.”

  “You were really never going to take over from your uncle, were you?”

  “No. It’s not my chosen profession.” Quinn grinned, then went to his car.

  “Huh, who would’ve thought.”

  “Nobody, that’s kinda the point,” Quinn said, saluted the Sheriff and got into his car.

  He called Brody’s number as he drove toward the warehouse.

  “What’s up, Q?”

  “Hey man, I’m heading to the warehouse right now, Jimmy wants to talk. Can I park my car on your lot?”

  “Shit, yeah, of course. Just drive in, I’ll open the gate.”

  “Okay, be there in a few.”

  As promised, the junkyard’s gates were open when Quinn got to the warehouse. He drove in, turned the car so he could just drive off if need be, and glanced at the time on his cell. He had roughly ten minutes to be across the road.

  He popped the trunk, then got out of the car.

  Brody ambled over when he was going through his hidden stash.

  “Sorry about Ian,” Brody said in lieu of a greeting and they man-hugged quickly.

  “Thanks. It is what it is.”

  “So you’re leaving town?”

  “I’m trying
to,” Quinn spoke absently as he got out his Glock and the extra magazine. He left the backup, older Glock in the hidey hole. Then he took his knife and strapped it around his ankle.

  At least he’d had time to change into jeans after the funeral. He moved his stuff around and frowned at his bullet proof vest.

  “Wait…” Brody said slowly.

  “Oh, right.” Quinn handed over his badge and waited as Brody read it.

  The sudden, loud belly laugh almost startled him, and Quinn looked at Brody.

  “Sorry, it’s just…you’re a….” He tossed the badge back to Quinn, shoulders still shaking. “Of course you are. It makes so much sense. Oh man…” Brody wiped his eyes and then got serious again.

  “Look, Aaron, Charlie, and Lennox are waiting for me. We’re supposed to leave at seven thirty. They’ll leave without me if I’m not there by then, so I’m trying to make this quick and painless.”

  “What’s really going on?” Brody asked quietly. His gaze was sharper than usual.

  “You’ve seen bikes here today?”

  “Not today, no, but there have been a few on and off for a while now.”

  “Jimmy’s gone into business with the Burned Skulls.”

  Brody cursed and shook his head. “No wonder. Okay, I assume you’re here on a job, then?”

  “Undercover, of sorts. I was to keep an eye on how the transfer went from Ian to Jimmy and this is what happened, right? Well, now I know they really sent me here not for the family but for the fucking bikers.”

  While he explained, he made sure he had his weapons at hand, just in case. He left his badge in the compartment and closed it.

  “No vest?” Brody asked, frowning.

  “I can’t go there waiting to be shot. He’ll know something’s going on if he realizes I’m wearing one. He’ll get suspicious.”

  Brody shrugged. “Okay. You have thirty minutes.”

  “Yeah, I do. Wish me luck!”

  “Good luck, man. Come back safe.”

  Quinn walked back through the gates and across the road. Jimmy’s warehouse was lit up and the chain link gate was open. There was only Jimmy’s car there and no bikes, but that could’ve meant anything. He hated to walk past the junk that covered the edges of the large yard. It felt like there could be anyone right there, behind a beat-up old SUV, hiding in plain sight. The thought made his skin crawl, and he walked faster to the entrance.