Outlaw MC

by Dwayne Clayden

  Sharma pulled the ambulance behind the Suburban. Maggie exited and grabbed her kits.

  Thank god Brad and Sam were here.

  The skinny man glared at Maggie. “What the fuck were you waiting for. He’s hurt.”

  Brad stepped in front of the skinny guy and started walking, forcing the biker back. “Let the paramedics do their job.”

  Maggie knelt on the sidewalk. It was a teen, obviously beaten. His breathing was raspy, and his pulse was racing and weak. She touched his forehead—cold and wet.

  “Sharma, we need to get out of here.”

  “I’ll get the stretcher.”

  Maggie glanced over her shoulder to Brad.

  “What’ve you got?” He asked.

  “He’s been beaten. Something’s not right. Gut feel. We’re gonna get out of here fast.” She pointed down the block. “We’re being watched.”

  “Yup. Saw them.” Brad stared down the street. “That’s the Gypsy Jokers’ Clubhouse.” He keyed his microphone. “Dispatch, TS 110. Keep the additional units coming hot. There’s a gang presence here.”

  “Oh shit.” Maggie felt a sinking feeling in her gut.

  “Steele, stay with Maggie and Sharma,” Brad said. “I’m heading down the block.”

  The skinny guy pointed to the still form on the ground. “What’re you waiting for?”

  “Who’re you?” Steele asked.

  “A friend. Tell her to just fuckin’ look after him.”

  “What’s your name?” Steele asked.

  “Why do you care?”

  Steele stepped close. “Tell me what happened.”

  “He fell.”

  “That’s it, he fell?” Steele grabbed the skinny guy, spun him around and slapped on handcuffs. “You’re under arrest, asshole.”

  Maggie shone her flashlight over the patient’s face. She checked for facial fractures, then placed an oxygen mask. Maggie listened to Steele as she continued her assessment.

  Steele faced the bystander. “So, smartass, wanna tell us his name now?”

  “Alf.”

  “Alf? That’s it?” Steele asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s his real name?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Steele glanced at Maggie and shook his head.

  Maggie assessed the chest. Not much air movement. “Alf, my name is Maggie. I’m a paramedic. Can you hear me?”

  He didn’t reply. Maggie continued her assessment and pulled up his T-shirt. Bruising to his ribs was evident under the light of her flashlight. This doesn’t make sense. Bruising takes hours to occur. Alf didn’t fall, he was beaten.

  Sharma set the stretcher and spine board next to Alf.

  “We gotta go now,” Maggie said. They secured Alf to the spine board.

  “Steele, give us a hand. On three.” They lifted Alf onto the stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance.

  Brad jogged down the block. Four people stood in the shadows in front of the clubhouse. He recognized one. Pickens. What the hell was he doing out here? A girl stood in the shadows with two bikers on either side of her. It was hard to see her clearly in the darkness—a small form. Brad looked toward the Jokers’ Clubhouse. They were the only ones on the sidewalk, but he didn’t know who else might be within hearing range. He had to play this right.

  “You know what happened?” Brad asked.

  “Nope,” Pickens said. “Heard the sirens and came out to see what’s happening.”

  “Kid, late teens. Beaten and dumped there. Are you saying you don’t know anything about that?”

  “As I said, Officer, I came out when I heard the sirens.”

  “You usually up at four in the morning?” Brad asked.

  “That’s when I do my best work,” Pickens said. “I do accounting.”

  Brad peered past Pickens to the girl. Short dark hair, young, late teens maybe. She moved farther behind Pickens. He had himself a biker groupie. It disgusted Brad. “What about you?” Brad asked her. “You know what happened? You see anything?”

  Pickens blocked Brad. “She doesn’t know anything either, Officer —”

  “It’s Coulter. Sergeant Brad Coulter. You are?”

  “Jeremy Pickens.”

  “A Gypsy Joker?” Brad asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You sure you can’t tell me anything?” Brad asked.

  “Quite sure. We try to keep the neighborhood safe. Don’t like it when things like this happen here. It gives the neighborhood a bad reputation. Your deputy chief made an announcement yesterday about having someone inside the clubs. If that’s true, I’d bet the club leaders are upset. They wouldn’t want a snitch in their clubhouse.”

  Brad stared at Pickens. Damn. “Thank you. Have a nice night.”

  Brad and Steele teamed up with Davidson and Gunther to search the area for witnesses. There were none. They met up a half hour later in front of the Jokers’ Clubhouse. Brad did his best not to yawn. No one should have to work at this ungodly hour.

  “This area gives me the creeps,” Davidson said.

  “Not the nicest,” Brad said. “Property value was never that great and having the Gypsy Jokers here doesn’t help.”

  “From the outside, it doesn’t look like much,” Davidson said. “Up close, it’s a fortress. Not sure even you guys could get in there.”

  Brad smirked. “Oh, we’d get in. Count on it.”

  “Always the tough guy.” She stepped closer. “I like that.”

  Brad stepped back. “Thanks for your help.”

  In their truck, Brad said. “Let’s check on the kid at Foothills Hospital and then we’ll head back to the office.”

  Brad’s eyes closed and he couldn’t hold back yawns as they drove to the hospital. Good thing Steele was driving.

  Something nagged him, but he couldn’t pull it out of his foggy brain. Something Davidson said. Something he’d seen. Brad tried to concentrate. It was there, right at the front of his thoughts, but he couldn’t grasp it.

  A car slowed, preventing them from making the turn onto Twenty-Ninth Street. Steele braked. A dark van pulled beside them. The side door opened and two men wearing ski masks tossed something under their Suburban.

  The explosion flipped the truck around once, landing on the driver’s side.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Brad felt like he was floating through darkness and clouds. Then lights blinked around him. His eyes adjusted to the mixture of dark and light. He stared down. Steele lay unmoving, in a crumpled heap against the driver’s door. The only sound was a whooshing in his ears, like listening to a seashell. He squinted and shook his head. He hung upside down, held in place by his seatbelt. He put a boot on the dash, braced himself and popped the belt. He fell onto Steele. That was stupid.

  Brad was in a worse situation than before. He straddled his partner and pulled himself upright. The passenger window was still intact, so he struck the window with his tactical knife. The window shattered, showering him with glass chunks. Stupid again. He reached up and pulled himself out the window.

  Vehicles had stopped—people stared and pointed. Their lips moved but he couldn’t hear anything.

  He slid down the underside of the truck onto solid ground. An ambulance, coming from the Foothills Hospital, stopped. Paramedics Dixon and Thompson jumped out.

  Dixon said something.

  Brad didn’t hear his words, just whooshing. “What?” Dixon’s lips moved again. “What?”

  Dixon pointed at Brad’s ears.

  Brad rubbed his ears and nodded. He pointed to the truck. “My partner.”

  Dixon gave a thumbs up and they headed to the Suburban.

  Brad ground his jaw and yawned. He felt his ears pop. He could hear, sort of.

  A firetruck pulled in behind the Suburban and a firefighter in a red helmet exited. Dixon waved the captain over. “I’ll need your guys to pop the window and flap the roof. Then I can assess him. Thompson, you want to get the stretcher and spine board?”<
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  Firefighters stabilized the truck and pulled out the windshield.

  Dixon crawled through the opening and checked Steele. Thompson knelt beside him.

  “His vital signs are okay.” Dixon’s words were coming from far away.

  “My guess is he’s banged his head a few times. Windshield and the side window.” Dixon held Steele’s head while Thompson reached in and placed a cervical collar.

  “He has cuts on his forehead and a goose egg forming on the left side of his head,” Thompson said. “Once the firefighters get the roof peeled back, we’ll do a rapid extrication and then bolt to the Foothills.”

  Dixon was about to speak when the generator for the extrication jaws fired up. Firefighters cut the doorposts and peeled back the roof, opening a path to Steele. Firefighters slid a spine board into place and carefully lifted Steele onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.

  Once again Brad was sitting on a bed in the emergency department. They might as well keep one ready for him. The X-rays were negative and his ears were checked. His hearing was still not back to normal, but there was no permanent damage. After the tests, his minor cuts and scrapes were cleaned. The emergency physician recommended Brad stay overnight to be sure there were no adverse effects, especially a concussion. As soon as the physician left, Brad starting dressing.

  “Going somewhere?” Archer pulled up a chair.

  “Yeah. I’m going home.”

  “You’ve been medically cleared?”

  “Fit as a fiddle.”

  “Bullshit. What the fuck happened?”

  Brad started with the call at the seniors’ center and finished with the explosion.

  “Steele is doing fine,” Archer said. “They’ll keep him overnight and send him home tomorrow. He’ll be off for a few days, but should be back to work next week.”

  “We were lucky,” Brad said.

  “They’ve certainly upped the violence. On the one hand, it means we are getting to them, but targeting cops is way out of line. So, I’m going to have some protection for you at home.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “Do you hear yourself? They’ve targeted you twice and Devlin once. This is not up for discussion. I’ve got Zerr coming to drive you home. They’ll stay with you today. I’ll have another team relieve them mid-day. Whenever you’re home, you’ll have protection.”

  “But —”

  Archer stood. “Your ride should be waiting for you.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  0600 Hours

  Brad stood outside the doors to the emergency department. A couple of cruisers were parked by the emergency entrance, but no sign of Zerr.

  A blue Honda Civic pulled to the curb. The passenger door swung open.

  Brad crouched and peered into the car.

  “Get in,” Maggie said.

  “What?”

  Maggie patted the passenger seat. “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’ve got a ride coming.”

  “You’d rather sit in the stinking backseat of a police cruiser?”

  “No. Zerr is coming for me. Besides, our trucks are clean.”

  A Suburban pulled to the curb. Zerr rolled down the passenger. “Jump in, boss.”

  Brad walked over. Ames was driving. “You guys don’t need to do this. I’ll be fine.”

  “Not a chance. Archer made it very clear we’re to stick with you.”

  “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll go with Maggie and you can follow us.”

  “If Archer gives us shit, you’d better back us,” Zerr said.

  “Always do.”

  Brad slid into the small car. He felt like he was curled into a ball inside a tin can. “What? Couldn’t you find a smaller car? Did it come with clowns?”

  “It does now.” Maggie glared. “I see you’re feeling better.”

  “A clean bill of health.” Brad laughed, then felt the pain in his side and grimaced.

  Maggie shook her head. “Really? Did you think I didn’t talk to the emergency physician? You signed yourself out. You still can’t hear.”

  “I can hear fine.”

  “Then why are you yelling at me?”

  She had him there.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Brad asked.

  “Day shift will be in at seven. I took the last hour off.”

  The next thing he knew the car had stopped. He opened his eyes, shook his head, and yawned. “How long was I asleep?”

  “The entire drive,” Maggie said. “You were snoring before I turned out of the hospital.”

  “I feel better already.” Brad unfolded himself from the car.

  Zerr pulled in behind Maggie’s car.

  Brad met Zerr and Ames at the curb.

  “Come in. I’ll make coffee.”

  “No thanks, boss,” Zerr said. “We’re good. We’ll stay outside checking things out. Go get some sleep.”

  “All right, but later I’m making lunch.”

  Brad and Maggie walked to the house. “Come and see Lobo.” He unlocked and opened the door. Lobo bounded out, circled Brad once, then raced to the far corner of the yard for a pee, then ran back. He noticed Maggie, stopped short, a low growl rumbling from his throat, hackles up.

  “You’re a little late if you’re trying to protect me, buddy,” Brad said. “Do you remember Maggie?”

  Lobo cocked his head to the side, sniffing, then bounced on his front paws. He circled Maggie, sat, and raised his paw.

  “Lobo, you remember me.” Maggie knelt and shook his paw. Lobo licked her hand.

  Maggie followed Brad to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Not coffee. I need to get some sleep.” She sat at the kitchen table.

  “Do you work tonight?” Brad asked.

  “Nope. That was it. Four days off now.”

  Lobo stood in front of Brad, whimpering. “Breakfast? You want breakfast?” Brad filled the dish and cracked a fresh egg on top. Lobo dove into the food.

  Brad poured a glass of milk, added chocolate powder, and stirred.

  “What’re you making?” Maggie asked.

  “Nestle’s Quik. It’s my comfort drink. Want some?”

  Maggie shook her head. “No, you go for your sugar buzz.”

  Brad drained the glass. “Ah. That was good. What a night.” He yawned and ground his jaw. “I need some sleep and then figure out what the hell happened.”

  “You mean besides the bikers going crazy and killing people? Besides trying to kill you and Steele?”

  “Yeah, besides that.”

  “You’re still yelling, you know.”

  “Sorry. It’s like I’m in a vacuum. When you talk, it seems like it’s coming from far away, but it’s easier when I see your lips move. I can hear better than before.”

  “You might think it’s getting better, but you’re still loud.” Maggie stood. “I should go home and get some sleep. Call me when you wake up and I’ll drive you to your car.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Brad said. “I gotta have a shower to get the glass, grit, and blood off me. Then sleep.”

  At the front door, Maggie hugged Brad. “Take care of yourself, please.”

  Lobo pushed past them, sat at the door, tail wagging, then barked. “He needs out again.”

  “You go shower,” Maggie said. “I’ll watch him then lock up when I leave.”

  “Thank you.” Brad trudged up the stairs. At the top he glanced back, but Maggie was outside with Lobo. That hug was nice.

  He stripped and turned on the shower. The large hot water tank never ran out, but it took a minute or two for the hot water to make it to the upstairs shower in the old house.

  That he’d come close to death hadn’t sunk in. He knew it would. The key was to get to sleep before his brain caught up and started the slideshow of flashbacks. Instead, he thought about Maggie. Their breakup was hard. They were both stubborn. He didn’t even put up a fight when she left. He’d carrie
d that regret for two years. They were comfortable as friends now. Maybe that was best. He tested the shower, and stepped in. The hot water felt good. He felt the grime and tension leaving his body. It flowed from the top of his head down the drain.

  He stretched and yawned. His ears popped. He could hear. The white noise was gone. Then the bathroom door squeaked. “Damn it, Lobo.”

  Maggie sat on the step as Lobo sniffed around the yard, worked his way to the back corner and did his business. He wandered street. Lobo was most interested in the guns. Ames walked up from the side of the house and Lobo bounded over. Ames knelt and Lobo happily accepted the attention. Maggie called Lobo, he raced back, sat beside her, and put his head in her lap. She scratched his ears. “Just like old times, huh.”

  Just like old times. They’d picked up where they left off—without the tension. No contact for two years, now their paths crossed often. Fate was pushing them together. She wasn’t sure what Brad wanted—that wasn’t the sort of thing he talked about. She felt something when they were together. He must feel it, too.

  Zerr and Ames were patrolling outside. Nothing would happen today. Maggie let Lobo into the house. She was about to lock the door when she stopped, stared up the stairs, and listened to the sound of running water. What the hell?

  A cloud of steam assailed Maggie as she opened the bathroom door. She stared at Brad’s outline behind the shower curtain. She undressed, tossing clothes around the bathroom.

  “Damn it, Lobo,” Brad said.

  His voice startled her. She slid the curtain open. “Not Lobo.”

  “What the —”

  “Thought you’d like some company. Maybe you need your back scrubbed.” Her eyes followed the water droplets as they hit his broad shoulders, trickled over his chest and flat stomach. Her eyes continued downward.

  A splash of water hit her face, shaking her out of her trance.

  “Are you daydreaming?” Brad asked. “You gonna stare like a teenage girl or get in here like a woman?”

  Maggie stepped into the shower. “Which would you prefer?”