THIEF_Steel Saints MC

by Paula Cox

  Money? Is he talking about the diamonds? Or is there something else I don’t know about behind the scenes. Liam has been open to me about the ins and outs of the club since we got together. He’s explained the whole security business and how they have moved into pimping and car snatches, but it never sounded like they made much. The restaurant was basically supplementing each of their incomes to get by.

  “Liam has them. The Mafia knows he’s the one who took it. They got him on camera grabbing both the diamonds and the gemstones. If the money trail is right, he sold the diamonds, but he’s the one you should be pissed at. Liam is the one who is stealing from the club?”

  What the hell is she talking about? I was with him from the start, and I never caught sight of anything but the diamonds. If he had them, they certainly weren’t around when I was. And why would he hide that from me? Something wasn’t adding up here...

  “I get that. I trust you, Amy.” Mateo’s voice suddenly changes. He coos at her as he just his chin juts out slightly. She leans in and kisses him gently; the tip of her tongue sliding along his lips. His eyes close tight, savoring the moment. I watch as his hands tense and then relax by his sides as if he is too afraid to touch her.

  Amy presses her body into his. Her red, form-fitting dress ruffles up against his legs and jacket as she whispers quietly into his ear, “Once we get him in, I’ll let you beat it out of him, and I’ll sit here and watch. It will be so… so hot.”

  “You got it, baby. You just keep doing what I say, and we’ll celebrate tonight. Me, you, and a big bottle of champagne.” She kisses Mateo again, this time a little slower, a little shorter, before pulling away. Amy fixes her dress and steadies her posture. Without a look at Mateo or me, she saunters out the closed door, shutting it slowly behind her. In the distance, I can hear her go back to crazy Amy as she yells, “WHERE THE HELL ARE THE REST OF LIAM’S GUYS? IF ONE OF YOU BASTARDS DON’T FIND THEM IN AN HOUR, I WILL KILL YOU!”

  Everything goes back to that strange calm it was the first time I was put in this room and strapped to the chair with the long white extension cord. Mateo takes a seat back in the corner and pulls out his phone as if nothing has happened. After awhile, he gets back up onto his feet and begins to walk the length of the room, his hands washing over his bald, tattooed head. I close my eyes tight and begin to count.

  It’s been about four hours since I’ve woken up. I know this only because I’ve counted down each and every minute since I got here. It’s a little trick my dad used to tell me when I complained about working in the back of the hot ice cream truck each summer. Count to sixty slowly. That’s one minute. If you can get through one minute, then you can get through another.

  I’ve counted all 14,400 seconds that have passed, waiting, longing to hear Liam’s voice. But there has been nothing but radio silence. Though, I can’t tell who is more nervous about this -- Mateo, Amy, or me? No Liam meant that Amy’s plan wasn’t working out as she wanted it to. No Liam meant Mateo wasn’t going to get whatever cash he thought Liam had owed him and Amy had promised him. And no Liam meant that I was at the mercy of a total psychopath as she melted down before me.

  At least Amy didn’t realize that I was awake. Part of me thinks Mateo sensed it. He continues to eye me every few seconds as he paces from corner to corner. But when Amy has left us alone to go manage the rest of the remaining Steel Saints members, he hasn’t said or done anything to me either. For a guy who threatened to kill me during our first meeting, he was starting to look like he was all talk and no action, and I was certainly okay with this.

  Amy, on the other hand, meant business. When they dragged my limp, tired body in from the back of their van, they had rustled me awake just long enough to hear the biggest commotion of the day. Someone was shouting Liam’s name, screaming at Amy to get the fuck out of their headquarters. My stomach sank realizing what Amy was going to do next. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds as loudly as I could, but no matter how much my thoughts shouted back, I could not block out the sound of gunfire and the sound of a body dropping lifeless to the floor.

  “Mop him up,” Amy commanded to a few others standing by in awe. I peaked for a second to see the gun she clutched to her chest. This wasn’t the first time she had taken someone’s life. No one could be that unphased by the experience. The men left in the headquarters had absolutely no choice but to follow her orders. The one person who spoke out was proof of what happened when you went against the new leader.

  Still, there was some dissent. I could tell. Every hour or so, I would hear the occasional voice through the open door while Mateo was distracted. The men talked amongst themselves about crazy Amy’s coup and if they were no longer Steel Saints or if the Black Flag Mafia had taken them over as well. Amy had been their leader when she dated the president and then outed him. This may be something similar -- bloody business mergers being done by bloody women.

  And me. Trapped in the middle. It was hard to try to play it calm. For one, calm wasn’t exactly my strong suit. I freak out before exams I know I’m going to pass. Acting as if I can’t hear the carnage around me during a fucking battle was taking all of my strength to just get through. But most importantly, I couldn’t help but think of my dad.

  God. I worked so hard to protect him, to make sure he got the best care and medical treatment I could get him. But I failed here when I trusted that I could handle all the shit that Liam’s life threw at me. I didn’t expect that it would lead to some asshole thugs hunting down my dad in his own hospital bed. Who would? The worst I thought would happen was that I would go to prison for helping a robbery.

  To his credit, Liam warned me. He told me that getting mixed up in his life would be an adventure, but he also made it clear that it would be a risk. I let that go as soon as I tasted those lips and felt his thighs against my sex. I made amends with my future when he held my hand at the hospital and bought me that emerald green dress. Loving him meant loving this too, and even now, despite the fact that I am probably seconds away from getting murdered right here in this flimsy little, metal folding chair, I can’t help but think of him and hear his voice telling me that it would be alright.

  Despite our distance, I have to believe he is calling out to me, telling me to hold on. Liam is the one keeping me calm and promising me that my dad will be safe as well. It’s insane, I know, but if it gets me through another minute of this, then I am going to hold on to it until my last breath. I will die by Amy’s gun with hope in my heart that Liam is coming.

  I open my eyes bit by bit, willing myself to let it happen. I stare down at my bare knees. They’re still bruised from being dragged and held down in the back of the ice cream truck. But there’s something else… small flecks of grayish white dust and paint have begun to form on the top of my leg. It sprinkles down like the first snow of winter without melting.

  It’s only when I have a moment to look up without Mateo seeing me that I figure it out. Above me I see someone’s fingers curling around the metal lines of the air conditioning vent. In the darkness, I see a face. It’s shadowy, but I instantly recognize it. While it isn’t Liam, it’s the next best thing -- Jason, his second. I only met him the few times I have been to the headquarters with Liam, but I recognize that older, softer face with the long, grizzly beard and the upturned red lips.

  He notices me too, his eyes darting between Mateo and me. His head shakes in Mateo’s direction as I place my head back down again. A searing pain at the back of my head almost causes me to lose it, but I keep it together. There is help on its way, and it’s directly above me. I’m going to be okay! I am going to survive.

  But I couldn’t just sit here. I had to help Jason get to me. For the first time, I start to examine the room. It’s a typical office with a desk placed up against the wall with a lamp and a laptop on top. Mateo sits back down in the rolling desk chair with his back facing me. He swivels back and forth as he continues to text on his phone.

  Okay. This is my shot. I have to get out o
f these ties. The thick cord is tight on my skin, but it’s not terribly sturdy. I remember them rushing through it, unsure of when I would wake up. They probably underestimated my strength as well, but all those years stacking boxes, cleaning out trucks, and scooping ice cream has made me much, much stronger than I look. I flex my biceps and wiggle my chest as the extension cord slides centimeter by centimeter down my chest until it’s on my hips.

  With my arms almost free, I am able to turn and lift my torso up. The plastic rubs harsh on my skin as I can feel it practically rub away. I want to cry out, but I keep it in, biting my lip instead. The rope moves as a finger manages to get out and then another until the entire hand is out. Knowing I only had seconds to go until Mateo turns around, I don’t waste time untying myself.

  Jason gets my attention, knocking on the metal vent softly. He points down to the desk where I spy the only weapon I’m going to get -- a pair of scissors. I nod back, swallowing hard. This is life or death, but it wasn’t going to be mine. I stand as quietly as I can and tiptoe slowly over to the scissors. I don’t look up. I don’t dare to even breathe.

  I wrap my hands on the cold metal when I feel it -- a man’s breath on the back of my neck. “What the fuck are you doing?” Mateo asks quietly. I try to spin, to land the scissors into his chest, but he’s too fast for me. My back bends as his weight crashes down into me. A hand wraps around my mouth, but I bite at the skin, tasting the metallic blood on my lips.

  Mateo cries out in pain, backing away from me just long enough for Jason to leap down nearby with a crash. He lands hard on his knees and hands, the shattering ceiling in pieces next to him. Mateo looks back and forth between us, me still holding on to the scissors and Jason in a pile. He pauses before charging straight at Jason, jumping directly on his back. Both men fall to the ground with me staring on helplessly.

  I raise the scissors again, ready to go in. But as I start, I am stunned in place by music -- the bells of my father’s ice cream truck in the distance.

  CHAPTER 26

  Stealing an ice cream truck… now that’s a first. Sure, I’ve technically commandeered it, but outright stealing one is probably a totally new way I’m going to hell. Though, if I know what’s about to happen when I get to headquarters, I probably have much more to worry about than taking my ex-girlfriend’s dad’s ice cream truck without their permission.

  I’ll have to tally up and repent later. Right now, I’ve got one thing and one thing on my mind -- getting Alana out of headquarters alive and saving my crew from the fate poor Winston had to deal with. Amy won’t be stopped. Whatever promises she made, whatever tool she pulled out to convince Steel Saints to become hers, didn’t mean a thing when her end game was ultimately me.

  There was one huge problem, though. There’s only one of me. If I had my crew behind me, storming some headquarters wouldn’t be an issue. I am used to being followed by an army or at least a squad of trained enforcers. Tonight, I’m going in solo with my back and front exposed. This is where real men earned their reputation, and it was my time to lay it out on the line.

  I circle the block a few times when I arrive, trying to lay out my plan. From the few times around, I count about twenty motorcycles, a van, and two or three cars parked. That’s not terrible considering a packed house would be about three times that size. If I figure a quarter of those guys are still, most likely, on my side, I’m only going to have to take down about fifteen guys who are armed to their teeth with only my ice cream truck and sidearm…

  Shit. By my third roundabout, it’s dawning on me how perilous this is going to be. Alana was worth a war in her name. She was worth winning at any cost, especially if it brought her back to my arms. But, if I’m going to be honest here, making a choice on if it should cost me my life wasn’t easy. There’s my career to think about, the restaurant, my grandmother… I’m not living my life in some Alana-bubble.

  But what happens when I do get her out of there alive? Do we go back to the start? Already the world was catching on that I was not exactly a straight-laced guy with some questionable extracurriculars. Amy’s hack of Alana’s site meant that I was going to have to reckon with the two lives I have been living.

  The only solution is to self-combust - to blow this whole thing up with me holding the remote control detonator. And there was only one, sure-fire way to do that. I pull out my phone and begin to dial the one contact I hate having on speed dial for emergencies. I’ve never needed to use him in the past, but today, Detective Aaron Hernandez was my only option.

  After getting through the countless amounts of bored, unenthusiastic secretaries, I reach a direct line. I go through my plans quickly, laying out how his office can help me. Frankly, he doesn’t seem as amused as I thought he would. Being in the pocket of a notorious, outlaw like myself isn’t exactly his cup of tea, but I was giving him an offer he couldn’t refuse, a chance to make a name for himself in the Vegas force. I know it’s a “yes” before I even finish.

  “Twenty minutes,” he finishes. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll get you what you need.” I try to tell him that it’s not enough. He needs to act now. No way when Amy gets word that I am hanging around that she will give Alana more than five, but Alana isn’t anyone or anything to Detective Hernandez. But to me, she was everything. I had to stall until I could get the backup that I need.

  So I do the craziest thing I can think of. On my fifth loop around, it’s time for action. I aim my sights on the beaming metal poles of the fence about a quarter mile away, flashing my lights square on the closed up section. I pause the truck just for a second before saying a quick prayer up to my grandfather to look after me as I attempt this. And then, without another breath taken, I press play on the truck’s musical options and then slam my foot down onto the pedal, sending the truck lurching.

  It’s not the quick, dramatic start I had thought it would be, but the speed dial moves quickly up the loop. 20 miles an hour. 30. 40… 50… 60… 70… It maxes out at 80 just in time to smash through the metal. The sound of the chiming music and the crunching chainlink stuck to the front rims screeches into the night sky. If they didn’t know I was here, they certainly did now. I press down on the break, causing my speed to dim down before spinning out in a huge circle like a high schooler doing figure eights in the supermarket parking lot.

  Finally, I come to a stop and head towards the back of the truck. I don’t know what to expect now. With Amy in charge, I have no idea who is on my side and who isn’t. I have to go on gut instinct, and that pit in my stomach is practically screaming at me to run. But I stay put. I wait until I hear the voices of my former men surrounding the truck. They peer in at me from the front windows and slowly make their way to the back.

  Against the metal doors, a man whispers urgently, “Boss. Open up. Quick.” I recognize the voice instantly. It’s Perry, one of the newer members of the club who has always looked up to me. I check myself before I let him in. No hair is standing up. There’s no feeling like I need to keep my gun close to me. This is about as good as it is going to get for me. I open the doors quickly so only he can pass through.

  Perry stumbles into the truck with his arms held high. The poor kid is only eighteen, but he looks as if he’s been through hell and back with me. I almost feel some pity. No pledge signs on for this sort of political, petty shit. I lower my gun slowly, still keeping my finger on the trigger for assurance. “I’m sorry, Liam. She just showed up with these guys, and we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know where the hell you were, and --”

  “Slow down. Start from the beginning. Tell me what exactly happened and what’s going on now.” I need to keep the kid calm, but the group outside is picking up. I half expect to see Amy standing there with a gun pointed at the truck.

  “We were doing normal business when Amy and the Black Mafia stormed in with Mateo and his boys. There were about forty of them. She said surrender or be killed. Winston got popped right in the head. No one can find Jason. They left and then cam
e back with that girl you go with. She’s inside in the main office with Mateo. Amy’s inside waiting for you -- something about some gems or something… I don’t know. It’s crazy!”

  “Who is outside? Are they with Amy or are they with me still?”

  He peeks over his shoulder, staring out at some of the faces. He takes a moment before he confidently says, “I’m pretty sure they are with you, boss. Amy’s gone nuts. Her taking down Winston changed a lot of minds back to you.”

  I grab onto his shoulder as I say, “Here’s what I need you to do…” I lay out my plan for him as simply as possible. All I need from him is a way to get me inside. Those loyal to me would take the outside. The boy nods his head before grabbing my hand, shaking it firmly, and then heading back outside.

  He yells out loudly, drawing attention from the group. “Why are we listening to Amy? What the hell has she done for this club…” His voice rises as a crowd begins to gather from the front of the truck to the back. I grab my gun, holding it tight to my chest as I bound out the front passenger side and round the corner of the truck’s engine. No one seems to pay any bit of attention to me. Luckily, they’re too invested in arguing through Perry’s speech.