by Lexy Timms
“You the father?”
“I’m her husband, so, yeah,” said Luke.
“Well, visiting hours are over. You’ll have to come back in the morning.”
Luke sighed and kissed Emily’s cheek once more. “Have to go, baby.”
Emily’s lips formed a pout, something she never normally did, but she was under the influence of the Demerol. “I’ll miss you, baby,” she said, and giggled.
Luke left the room with a heavy heart, sick with worry. He looked over his shoulder as he left to see the nurses lift her to the bed. They wouldn’t even consider letting her put her feet on the floor just to get into bed. A clock at the nurses’ station said it was nearly midnight, and Luke decided to see if Helen was still in the hospital so he could make good on his promise to take her home.
“Oh, perfect timing,” said Helen when he arrived. “I just have to get my clothes on and I can leave.”
“Great, I’ll go warm up the truck.”
“Where’s Emily?” asked Helen.
“They’re keeping her here overnight. I’ll wait outside, and when you come to the Emergency entrance I’ll drive the truck up.”
“Thanks, Luke. This means the world to me.”
“It’s nothing.”
In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing, nothing compared to the sacrifice Gibs had made so that Luke could keep living. Every time he thought about it, his gut clenched.
Luke wended his way out to the waiting room and then to the entrance of the department. The door slid open with a hiss and the cold November night hit him in the face. He pulled up his collar on his Hades’ Spawn jacket, so he didn’t see who was leaning against the wall at the entrance, though he did smell cigarette smoke.
“Hey, pendejo, you not going to say hello to me?”
Only one man called Luke pendejo, which had different regional meanings in Spanish, mostly along the lines of “stupid,” “idiot,” or “jackass.” But from this particular criminal, it meant “asshole.”
Luke whirled to see Pez, the man who acted as the intermediary between the MC club and the Rojos and the Hombres. He was one of the few who had membership in both gangs. He was sent to Westfield in August to straighten out the problem caused by Luke’s old president, Jack Kinney, and the Rojos and the Hombres. But Pez’s solution, to let everyone shoot it out between themselves, nearly cost Luke his life. He didn’t trust Pez a single iota.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” said Luke coldly. This was turning out to be one hell of night.
“A couple of my boys got in a knife fight.”
Luke nodded. “I meant here in Middletown. Don’t you live in Bridgeport?”
“After the Westfield Rojos clubhouse was cleaned out, I decided to take up residence there.” He flicked his spent cigarette to the ground and lit another one. He offered his pack to Luke, but Luke waved him off.
“No; gave them up a long time ago,” said Luke.
Pez shrugged.
“So,” said Luke, “Bridgeport not big enough for you?”
“Nah, moved up.” He turned so Luke could see the back of his leather jacket that sported a leering red devil in the center, the word “Rojos” in a top-arched rocker, and the words “Central Connecticut” in the bottom rocker.
Luke’s jaw set. Of course Pez would have a three-piece patch, the mark of a criminal MC club. It was bad enough when the twenty or so Westfield Rojos occupied that clubhouse, but Pez being president of a newly formed and larger charter was another leap in size of criminality in Luke’s little town. Pez waved his hand toward Luke. “But I see you’ve come down in the world.” He pointed to Luke’s jacket, which sported a two-piece patch, the mark of a social motorcycle club. Kinney had instituted a three-piece patch in his short reign as the president of Hades’ Spawn.
“I told you before, Pez. The Spawn want no trouble with the Rojos.”
“I was told you won’t be,” said Pez casually. He took a long draw on his cigarette.
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”
“Your wise guy friend. What’s his name? Saks vouched for you with his leadership.”
Fuck, thought Luke. Saks was related by blood to the wise guy, but he told Luke he wasn’t involved with them. Maybe Saks lied.
“But don’t be fooled,” said Pez. “Lil’ Ricki still wants your ass.”
Luke stared at Pez, well aware that the incarcerated Rojos state president had made threats against Luke’s life for imagined wrongs. Luke, however, didn’t worry too much about him. One, Lil’ Ricki declared that only he was allowed to seek revenge against Luke. Two, Lil’ Ricki still had twenty years on his sentence.
“Whether or not he gets it is another story,” said Luke.
“We’ll see about that, cabron. We’ll see about that.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Closing Time at the Red Bull
“Luke,” said Helen as she slid into the toasty warm SUV, “you’re an absolute prince.” She shivered. “It’s so cold tonight; it goes right through the bones.” She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing her beige camel coat close to her.
“And it’s only November,” replied Luke. He glanced out of his window to see Pez give him a quick wave. Luke flexed his fingers on the steering wheel while clenching his jaw, and turned out of the Emergency Room parking lot.
“How’s Emily?” asked Helen.
“She’s okay. They just want to keep her under observation overnight.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, obviously not believing him. “Luke, we’ve known each other a long time. You don’t have to put on a brave front for me.”
Luke didn’t want to talk about this. Telling people made his wife’s situation all too real. He was aware of the implications of her condition and it shook him deeply to his core. Luke couldn’t, wouldn’t recognize that anything bad would happen to the woman he loved. But Helen was family, just like his wife and his club were. “She’s got a condition: pre-eclampsia.”
“Yes,” said Helen slowly, “I know what it is. My niece had it with her first. How’s her blood pressure?”
“That’s why she was kept in. It kept spiking, both times when her sister and her parents rolled in. It upset her.”
“She’s lucky she has family that cares about her.”
“And she’d be the first to agree,” Luke chuckled, “but they’re a little overprotective.”
“Ah,” said Helen, as if she understood. “So what does the doctor say?”
Luke sighed. “That she has to stay on bed-rest for the rest of the pregnancy. That is going to drive her nuts. She’s always cleaning the apartment, even though it’s just the two of us. Honestly, I don’t see how two people can make as much dirt as she claims to clean.”
Helen chuckled. “It’s the female discerning eye. There isn’t a speck of dust that escapes it.”
“I guess. I don’t see it.”
“I’m sure you have other things to worry about.”
Yes. He did have other things to worry about. Like the shop and its finances, his immigration problems, Anglotti and the wise guys watching him, and the rumored arrival of his crime-lord uncle. He didn’t want to think about these things now. Luke tried to loosen his tense neck with a roll of his shoulders. “So how are you doing, really, Helen?”
“It’s tough, you know. I still expect to hear his boots on the floors at six each night.” And then more quietly, “I miss him.”
“Yeah,” said Luke, his throat thickening with his own emotions, “I do too.”
“Some days I don’t think I can make it through the day. It’s overwhelming at times. I’ll be doing something, and think “I have to tell Frank about that.” Then I remember I can’t tell him anything, and then a kind of blackness falls over me and I can’t breathe.”
Sadness gripped Luke as he thought about how Helen lost her husband because of him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Neither Gibs nor Helen deserved their fate.
“And then,�
� said Luke, “his asshole brother shows up. What’s going on with that?”
“You tell me. One minute he’s talking about settling the estate, and the other he can’t be bothered with discussing terms.”
“That’s strange.”
“What’s even stranger is that he’s taken a six-month lease on a sublet in town. He isn’t planning on leaving any time soon and I can’t figure out why.”
“That is weird,” agreed Luke. “So what’s he asking for?”
“It changes from meeting to meeting.”
“He talked about taking Gibs’ bike.”
“Oh, for heaven’s freakin’ sake,” Helen said with exasperation. “If that’s what he wanted, why didn’t he say so?”
“He didn’t ask you?”
“No.”
“He might be Frank’s brother, but I don’t understand that man.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, both lost in their own worries. Luke glanced at the clock on the dashboard as Helen got out of the SUV, announcing it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” asked Luke.
“The doctor told me to get some rest and to call him in the morning. I have the phone by my bed. If I have a problem, I’ll call 911.”
“Okay, Helen. Call if you need anything.”
“And you too, Luke,” called Helen as she stood poised to close the door. “If you or Emily need something, you call me. I mean it.”
“Thanks, Helen. I’ll let you know what happens with Emily.”
She smiled. “You do that, mister, or you’ll be hearing from me.”
Helen closed the door with a smile and a solid thud. To make sure she was safe, Luke watched as she walked into the house. When her inside light went on, he pulled out of the driveway. At the corner, he was about to drive right to take him back to his apartment. He didn’t want to do that, to go back there and be alone without Emily next to him.
Instead he turned left, in the direction of the Red Bull. He’d barely visited since that night when he and Pez left there on the way to rescue Saks from the Rojos. Knowing that the Red Bull was run by active wise-guy members didn’t make him feel safe or comfortable. But tonight, when all manner of bad things happened today, he just wanted to sit in a familiar place, drink a beer, and then go home.
Entering the Red Bull felt like coming home. Though it was very late, there were still a few regulars scattered through the large bar. Nothing had changed in those few months. The large bar in the center of room still featured a stacked pyramid of different bottles of liquor, the taps for the beer were still shined to reflect the lighting hanging from the ceiling, and different colored and sized bras hung from the rafters.
Luke hung his Hades’ Spawn jacket on the pegs by the door, since Rocco, the owner, had a rule about bikers removing their colors when they entered. Some of the other patrons greeted Luke as he made his way to the bar. He smiled at John, Rocco’s brother and main bartender, and John broke into a bright grin.
“Luke! Where’ve you been hiding, man?” John knew very well that Luke had built his own small bar as part of the Hades’ Spawn clubhouse. But since that was competition, both men avoided that part of the conversation. John drew Luke’s favorite draft and slid it to him.
“Thanks,” said Luke. “Do I still have a tab here?”
“Of course,” scoffed John. “You have credit on it.”
“Good to know.” Luke pulled at his draft and eyed the bar. Here in the center of the room it was bright, but along the walls and in the corners the lighting was low. He couldn’t quite make out who sat at different booths. “Any Rojos around?”
“Nope. We banned them.”
“Really? You banned a whole MC club?” This was unprecedented. Rocco and John had been known to ban an individual or two, but rarely. A whole club, though? Wow.
“The familia didn’t like them around. Troublemakers.”
“So, they aren’t doing business with them?”
“I didn’t say that,” said John. “Business is business, but I can’t say more.”
“And I don’t want to know.”
“Hey, Luke!”
Beer in hand, Luke turned to see Pepper, or rather DEA Agent Hector Garcia, walking toward him with a smile and his hand outstretched. Luke took it, though his smile was strained. Pepper had his Hades’ Spawn jacket slung over his arm. There was nothing that Luke could do about Pepper’s membership in the club. Luke was sworn to secrecy about his involvement with the DEA, and Pepper’s membership was a consequence of the undercover work he did there. While Luke was in the hospital recovering from his gun- shot wound from the shootout at the Spawn’s clubhouse, the other members of the club patched in Pepper. They had thought him a hero in his part in subduing Kinney, Dagger, and Wolf. But the other members of the club didn’t know that Pepper was planted there to spy on them. Had they known, things might have turned out differently.
Luke had no desire to speak with Pepper now. The events of the day had left him raw enough that he wasn’t fit company for most people. Pepper was a reminder that the DEA didn’t follow through on their promises, and had left Luke hanging in immigration hell. In the aftermath of the cluster-fuck that was the shootout at the clubhouse, the DEA pinned the failed operation on Pepper. He was consigned to a desk assignment since then and showed up less frequently on Sundays to work with Luke in the shop. Luke had no idea what he was doing here now.
“Can we talk?” asked Pepper.
“Closing time soon,” said Luke,
“Please.”
Luke sighed. His nerves were frayed and his body pumped with too much adrenaline to have this conversation. But after the visit with immigration, he wanted some answers. Maybe Pepper had them. He pointed to a booth and settled into it. Pepper slid in after him. “Did you hear about the little home visit by immigration?” His face was hard with anger. If the DEA had lived up to their promises, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Pepper looked surprised. “No; sorry.”
“Really? You guys knew enough about my life when you needed me.” As sarcastic as that came out, he was even more bitter. His anger curled into a hard knot in his stomach.
Pepper looked away and Luke saw that the agent had no answers for him.
“What the hell, Pepper! The DEA promised to clear up my immigration status.”
“Sorry; I can’t help you. Moyes is in charge of that and we don’t even work together anymore.”
“Then why did you want to speak to me? Because right now there is precious little I want to hear from or say to you.”
Pepper pursued his lips. “We hear that Oklahoma Walker is getting out soon.”
“Really,” said Luke after taking a sip of his beer. “I wouldn’t know.”
“He hasn’t contacted you?”
“Okie made a rule when he went in. No contact.”
“Why did he do that?”
“Probably because he knows how law enforcement likes to assume his friends are criminals too.”
Pepper looked away, then back at Luke. “Okay, we deserve that. But we have it on good word that he’s been talking to ‘Lil Ricki in jail.”
“So? I’m sure there isn’t much else to do in the slammer.” Luke was growing more annoyed with Pepper and this conversation. By the time he was done in here, there wouldn’t be enough beer to settle him down tonight.
“Word is Walker made a deal with ‘Lil Ricki to hang back while he extracts some revenge on the Hombres.”
“Revenge?”
“Yeah, for Frank Gibson’s death.”
Luke was shocked. Yes, Gibs did get in the middle of the Hombres and the Rojos because of Jack Kinney. And the Hombres did send the men who ended up firing the fatal shot that Gibs caught. But it was craziness to take on a street gang the size of the Hombres. That meant certain death for every Spawn involved, and maybe the ones who weren’t. “I don’t believe it. Okie wouldn’t do anything that crazy.”
“Long-ti
me friend? Bike brother? What do you think, Luke? Even social clubs go ballistic when one of their own is killed.”
“What? You specialize in biker gangs?”
Pepper gave him a look of appeal that begged for Luke’s understanding. “This is part of a broader investigation. And as far as this conversation goes, we never had it.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Hector?” said Luke.
“There’s nothing I can tell you, but for your own and Emily’s sake, be careful.” He pushed up from the table and walked out of the bar, as casually as if was strolling on a summer beach.
Luke had a real what-the-fuck moment watching Hector leave. For the second time in six months, the skinny Hispanic surprised him. The first time was when he found out Hector was a DEA agent. That was a kick to the head. It took restraint on Luke’s part not to kick his ass each day in the shop while they were playing their parts to reel in Jack Kinney. But this? What did “this is part of a broader investigation” mean?
On the day of the shootout Hector had told him he wanted to get out of the DEA, and asked if Luke would train him in motorcycle repair. But what happened was that Hector got blamed for the cluster-fuck of the shootout and was placed on desk duty. The DEA still signed his paychecks, though it was obvious they didn’t want him there. If that wasn’t a good sign to leave the agency, that, in effect, offered him an invitation to leave, why didn’t he?
Unless… someone else had asked him to stay for another reason.
That wasn’t good at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
An Unwelcome Visitor
Luke thrashed the sheets off violently, waking with a start and breathing hard. A thin sheen of sweat covered him even though it wasn’t hot in the room. The all-too-real nightmare gripped him in its frightening aftermath, and he lay there, reliving every detail.
He was eight, and playing in the schoolyard with the other children. Being more adventurous than the other boys, he hung upside down from his knees on the monkey bars, egging the other boys on to join him.
“Bet you can’t do this,” he said as he swung from his knees on the bar. They had laughed, but it was friendly, because Luke was the leader of the group. He had always pushed them to do things they wanted to do but were afraid to. In his little eight-year-old heart, he was proud and happy that these boys hung on everything he did.
