EDGE OF REASON

by Barker, Freya

  “You mean you were listening in,” I conclude, and he doesn’t argue, but looks straight at me. “So what did you hear?”

  “I’m going wit you.”

  “If that’s okay with you, yeah. For now you’re gonna stay with Jaimie, Sandra, River, and me.”

  He instantly has a worried look on his face. “Who’s that?”

  “Jaimie’s my girlfriend. River is her baby boy, and Sandra is her mom. You’ll like them. They’re nice.”

  “Are they here too?”

  “Jaimie is. I can’t drive…” I lift my cast. “…So she’s our ride.”

  I consider telling him this is not a black family, but that would give the racial difference more emphasis than I want it to have. Instead I’m gonna show him how little it matters.

  “Ready to go?”

  For moment I think he’s not going to, but then he resolutely grabs his bag and gets up. I follow him out of the room. He’s down to the last few steps when he freezes, and I know he just spotted Jaimie.

  “Keep moving, buddy,” I tell him, giving him a little nudge in the back. He moves, but the moment he hits the hallway he steps aside to let me pass. I do, but not without putting my hand on his neck and guiding him along.

  “Oh, hey,” Jaimie says casually. “You must be Ezrah, you’re all Trunk’s talked about.” I bite off a smile at her exaggeration but it seems to have an effect on the boy, who turns his head back to look at me confused.

  “That’s Jaimie, boy. I’ve told her about you.”

  An hour later we’re on our way back to Durango, with Ezrah still quiet in the back seat. He hasn’t said anything at all, other than to say goodbye to Deandra. She’d hugged him and he just stood there, his plastic bag in his hand. He barely acknowledged when Joyce showed up with the paperwork

  Jaimie does her best to fill the silence in the car, but eventually just turns the radio on and softly sings along with the music. It’s already seven when we drive through Cortez and she suggests stopping for dinner. It’s over a massive plate of nachos that Ezrah first addresses her.

  “Where is your baby?”

  All credit to Jaimie, she barely flinches and continues to eat her dinner as if he’s been talking to her all along. “Home with my mom. The car ride would be a bit long for him. You’ll get to meet him soon.”

  I wish I knew what was going through the kid’s head as he seems to be observing Jaimie closely, who does her best not to react to his scrutiny. At least he’s eating something.

  When the waitress shows up with the bill, Jaimie grabs her wallet from her purse.

  “What are you doing?”

  She looks at me surprised. “Paying for dinner.”

  “No, you’re not.” I fish my money clip from my pocket and toss a few bills on the table. I should know from the tight pinch of her lips that’s not the last of it.

  She proves me right the moment we step out of the restaurant.

  “That was rude,” she snaps. “I’m the one who suggested dinner. I wanted to pay for it.”

  “When you’re eating with me you’re not paying for dinner.” I pull open the back door for Ezrah, who climbs in, and get in the passenger seat myself.

  “That’s ridiculous,” she continues, as she slips behind the wheel. “Archaic even. What kind of example are you setting for him?” She cocks her thumb to the back seat. “He needs to know women can look after themselves. This is the twentieth century, and…”

  I know we’ll never get out of the parking lot if I engage in this argument, so I lean over the center console and cut off her word flow with a hard close-mouthed kiss that seems to have the required effect.

  “Boy’s gotta know how to take care of the people he loves.” I sit back in my seat and buckle in. Jaimie is frozen, staring at me with her mouth open. “Start the car, Little Mama.”

  That seems to snap her out of her daze, and I catch a flash of annoyance from her eyes before she fires up the engine.

  “Bat-shit crazy,” Ezrah mumbles in the back seat.

  “Language, boy,” I correct him, keeping my eyes on the road.

  Jaimie snorts loudly beside me.

  We’ve just passed Hesperus when my phone rings.

  “Yeah.”

  “Need you to get to the compound,” Ouray barks without explanation.

  “I’m about fifteen minutes out.”

  “Fuck! Wapi called, someone shot up the clubhouse. We’re rolling out now, but we’ll be hours.”

  “I’ll get there as fast as I can.” I feel Jaimie’s eyes on me when I end the call. “Step on it, James. Trouble at the clubhouse. I need to get there.”

  “What’s going on?”

  I give a little shake of my head. I don’t want to get into it with Ezrah sitting right behind us.

  A sudden rush of panic has me dial Jaimie’s mother.

  “Sandra, everything quiet there?” I ask when she answers.

  “Joe knocked on the door to check on us a few minutes ago. Is something going on?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about, Jaimie is dropping me off somewhere and then she’ll be home.” I don’t want to get into explanations for Ezrah’s presence, so I leave that for Jaimie to deal with when she gets home. “Unless it’s Joe, don’t answer the door, okay? Little Man okay?”

  “I just put him down. Should I be worried?”

  “No. Not worried, just careful. There’s been some trouble at the clubhouse. It’s being taken care of. This is for my own peace of mind.”

  “I’ll be careful. You be too, honey.”

  I have renewed respect for Jaimie when she gets us up the mountain in record time without asking any more questions, although I’m sure she’s burning with them. I’d much rather she and Ezrah were already safely at home, since I have no idea what we’re going to find at the compound.

  Even before we turn up the driveway, I see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.

  Luna is manning the gate, looking badass in full gear.

  “Good. You’re here,” she says when I roll down the window. “Ouray said you were on your way. It’s a mess, Trunk. The boys are in a state.” I catch her shooting a concerned glance in Jaimie’s direction.

  “Jaimie’s dropping me off. Anyone who can see she gets home okay?”

  Luna doesn’t need any explanation and immediately nods. “Sure thing. You can drive up, but stay to the right of the emergency vehicles. The boys are in the dorm.”

  I give Jaimie directions, while trying to get a glimpse of the state of the clubhouse. It looks like the entire front was blown out. First responders are trudging through glass and debris, and a cold fist squeezes my chest.

  “Oh my God,” Jaimie whispers beside me.

  “Pull in here, babe. You can just back out and head back the same way.” I direct her to the parking space outside the boys’ barn. “I’ll be in—”

  “I know. Go do what you need to do. We’ll be fine.”

  I nod and open my door when I remember Ezrah, and turn to him. “Gonna be okay, boy. Stick close to Jaimie, yeah?” He doesn’t even look at me; his eyes are frozen on something outside. “Get home, baby,” I urge Jaimie and slip out of the car. It’s not until she backs out of the way that I see some of the boys have stuck their heads outside.

  “Is Momma okay?” Istu asks tearfully when I reach them.

  “Haven’t seen anyone yet, kid. What happened to Momma?”

  “She was hit.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Jaimie

  I KEEP LOOKING in my rearview mirror at the unmarked police car following me home.

  Tony Ramirez is behind the wheel; he just drove up, as I was coming up to the club gates and volunteered to see us home when Luna talked to him.

  Ezrah hasn’t said a word, but I can feel the anxiety coming off him in waves. Poor kid. As if things weren’t already challenging enough for him, now he has to deal with this. I’m starting to reconsider the wisdom in taking him from his relatively safe placement in
Monticello. I can only hope we haven’t made things worse for him.

  At home, I see all the lights are on and a patrol car is parked in the street. I pull in the driveway and Tony pulls his car in right beside me.

  “This is us, Ezrah.” I turn in my seat and find his eyes wide and apprehensive. “I promise you we’ll be safe here, and Trunk will be home as soon as he can.”

  Before I can get out of the vehicle, the front door opens and Mom steps out on the small porch.

  “That’s my mom. She stayed here to look after River,” I ramble, as I coax him out of the back seat. “River is my little boy. I’m sure he’s already in bed. He’s only a baby still.”

  With Ezrah so skittish I purposely ignore Tony, who gets out of his car at the same time, but luckily stays a few steps back while I guide the boy to the front door. Mom, who’s heard about Ezrah, quickly hides her surprise and adapts to the situation with lightning speed and keen insight.

  “There you guys are. I was wondering when you were gonna get here. Come in. It’s chilly out.” She barely looks at Ezrah, but puts a light hand on his shoulder and leads him into the house, while keeping up a nonstop monologue. “I’m cold to the bone, I was just about to make some hot cocoa. You want marshmallows in yours too? I love marshmallows in my hot cocoa. Why don’t you drop that bag, we can take it up to your room in a bit. Hop on that stool and keep me company, will you?”

  The poor kid doesn’t know what hit him. Almost stunned he takes a seat at the counter.

  “Who’s that?” Tony asks softly behind me.

  “A lost boy Trunk’s been helping out. He’ll be staying with us for now,” I inform him, keeping my voice low. “Another time for the full story?”

  “That’s fine. You gonna be okay?”

  I turn and find genuine concern on his face. “We’ll be fine. I see you already have someone parked outside. I’ll arm the alarm, and Trunk will be home as soon as he can.” Although, even as I say it, I realize he has no way to get home. “Are you going back to the clubhouse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you do me a favor? Make sure Trunk has a way to get home? He can’t drive.”

  The detective’s smile is warm. “I hope he knows what a lucky bastard he is.”

  I watch him walk back to his car before I close the door, lock it, and set the alarm. By the time I join my mother and Ezrah in the kitchen, he’s looking at her like she’s from a different planet. There’ve been times I wondered that myself.

  “Got any more of that?” I ask Mom when she slides a mug in front of Ezrah.

  “Marshmallows?”

  “You have to ask? And Mom? Don’t be stingy.”

  From the corner of my eye I see Ezrah bending over his mug to hide his mumble, but I hear it anyway.

  “Bat-shit crazy.”

  _______________

  Awake in bed, my head churns over the events of the past hours.

  Mom had coaxed Ezrah onto the couch in the living room and found a rerun of the first Spider Man movie while she putzed in the kitchen. I took the opportunity to dart upstairs and get the spare bed ready.

  He’s in there now. At least I hope so, although with the alarm armed, I’m sure to hear him should he decide to make a break for it. I’m grateful for my mom, who never even so much as blinked at the anxious little boy. Her easy chatter went a long way to creating a sense of normalcy amid what must be chaos for him. He seemed a bit more at ease with her, so I let her take the lead showing him upstairs and making sure he was set for the night.

  We briefly spoke downstairs after, and I had a chance to fill her in on the scene at the clubhouse. I sent off a text to Trunk at some point, letting him know I’d set the alarm and asking for an update, but I haven’t heard back yet. I’m sure he has his hands full, I just hope no one got hurt.

  My mind jumps to what Trunk said to me earlier in the car, as we were about to leave the restaurant. “Boy’s gotta know how to take care of the people he loves.” I never had a chance to react, because that’s right when Ouray called, but I’m pretty sure the return of the feelings I expressed last week was implied.

  Or not.

  I can’t sleep and I’m driving myself crazy. I need a drink.

  Kicking back the covers, I swing my feet to the floor, just as my phone rings on the nightstand. It’s almost midnight.

  “Hey.” My voice is raspy.

  “Shee-it, James. Did I wake ya?”

  “No, couldn’t sleep.”

  “How’s the boy?”

  “Sleeping, I hope. Mom was great with him. He didn’t say much but he didn’t run off screaming either.”

  His chuckle sounds tired, but warms me all the same. “That’s good.”

  “What’s happening there, honey?”

  “A fucking mess. I was able to get the boys settled down, but Ouray and the guys are just rolling in, so it doesn’t look like I’ll be home anytime soon. I want you to get some sleep, though. Don’t wait up for me.”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “Gotta run, baby, we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

  Trunk

  I hustle to catch Ouray before someone drops the bomb on him, but to my relief I see Luna is already approaching.

  Yuma is another matter. He aims straight for his parents’ place.

  “Hold up, man,” I call out, catching up with him. “They’re not there.”

  Yuma stops in his tracks and swivels around. “What are you saying?”

  “Brother, Momma got hurt. She was taken to Mercy. Nosh went with her.”

  In two steps he’s nose-to-nose with me. “How bad?”

  “Look, maybe we—”

  He cuts me off when he grabs the front of my shirt. “How. Fucking. Bad!”

  “Easy, brother.” Ouray hurries over, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  “Bullet caught her in the gut. She was in rough shape but alive when they loaded her in the ambulance. That’s all I can tell you, man.” I don’t tell him that with the quick glimpse I got of her grayish pallor, I thought for a moment she was already gone.

  “Luna says she just spoke to the hospital,” Ouray adds. “She was able to find out Momma is still in surgery. That’s good news, brother.”

  Yuma’s fist clenched in my shirt loosens as suddenly all the air seems to go out of him. He turns away, leans forward with his hands on his knees, and pukes. I don’t blame him.

  “I gotta go,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I’ll get Honon to drive you,” Ouray suggests, taking the younger man by the arm and I follow behind.

  Honon gets instructions to call Ouray as soon as he has updates not just on Momma, but on the other two injured. Tse—the brother who stayed behind while everyone else was off to Moab—and Shilah, one of the cubs. Neither one’s injuries looked to be quite as serious as Momma’s, but they were both hauled off to the hospital as well.

  “What the fuck happened?” Ouray asks, when Honon’s taillights disappear down the driveway. We turn to face the clubhouse. The front window is gone, as is a large section of wall, displaying the devastation inside. Police and FBI have most of it cordoned off as their forensics guys sift through the rubble.

  “Wapi says the moment the shots started flying, and he saw Momma go down, he corralled the boys and took off down the hallway to the basement stairs. Says it was rapid fire. Fully automatic. Lasted for a few minutes. He heard Tse yell something a moment before a loud bang shook the whole building. He was scared the place would come down on them, and risked taking the kids upstairs and out the back door. He called Luna from where they were hiding in the trees.”

  “How are the boys?”

  “Asleep now, hopefully. Took a bit to get them settled. They were scared.”

  Luna walks up with Tony Ramirez and her boss, Damian Gomez, who addresses Ouray.

  “So far we’ve found twenty-four shell casings, just outside the fence line, west of the gate. From the angles of impact of
the bullets, I think we’ll find another pile east of the gate. My guys are out there looking. M16s would be my guess. Plus, it looks like the front wall was blown out by a launched grenade. Someone with access to military grade weapons you pissed off recently?”

  “Moab Reds?” Luna suggests.

  Ouray flashes her a look. I understand his reluctance. Even though Arrow’s Edge is walking the straight and narrow these days, there’s still an unspoken understanding between clubs. You don’t rat on each other. I’m guessing this is one of those fine lines he and Luna have to balance in their marriage. I don’t envy them.

  “Possible,” he grudgingly admits.

  “That the Norwood outfit?” Ramirez wants to know.

  “Yeah. Tink, their president, has liver cancer and left the day-to-day running of the club to his vice president, Chains. Now that guy’s a piece of work,” Luna fills in ignoring her husband’s glare.

  “Need to know all you’ve got, Ouray,” Gomez tells him almost apologetically.

  “Fuck!” he barks, kicking at the dirt under his boots. “Gonna put a target on our back, Gomez.”

  “Got news for you, friend. That target’s already there.”

  It’s almost five in the morning before police and FBI vehicles start thinning out. We heard from Honon a few hours ago that Momma is in critical but stable condition. They had to take out her spleen, and a good length of her intestines to repair the damage from the bullet that hit her. Still, she’s far from out of the woods.

  Tse was hit with shrapnel in the explosion, his right side a mess. They’d operated on his leg, which took the brunt of the impact, but would likely need more surgery. Honon said he looked like he went through a meat grinder.

  Shilah had come off relatively easy. He’d been cut by flying glass, had a few larger lacerations, which required stitching, and likely sustained a concussion when the blast knocked him to the floor behind the bar, but he’ll probably be released in the morning.

  I’m standing by uselessly as some of the guys are boarding up the hole left in the facade of the building, when Ouray walks up.

  “You should go. Get home. One of the boys will give you a ride. Get some rest. We’ll meet tomorrow at one. Give everyone a chance to get some shut-eye before we figure out what our next move is. We’re covered for now.”