by Lynne, Carol
Stevie sat in a recliner with his legs stretched out in front of him, covered in a blanket. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Solo began. He needed answers from Stevie, and the last time he’d threatened the weasel, he’d been lied to. Instead of intimidation, Solo decided to play it cool. He took a seat on the ratty couch. “I need to talk to you about Roach.”
“Roach?” Stevie wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “What about him?”
“Where’s he buying his stuff?” Solo asked, hoping to trick Stevie.
“Easy. Everyone’s been buying from Easy lately,” Stevie groused.
“I thought you said Roach was one of the big dealers. If that’s the case, why would he buy from Easy? Why not cut out the middle man?” Solo glanced at Rowdy, who’d taken up position on the arm of the sofa. “You have any ideas on why that would happen?” he asked his friend.
“Nope,” Rowdy replied.
Solo returned his attention to Stevie Boy. “Did you tell me a fib?” He rubbed his jaw. “Why would you do that?”
“What the hell’re you doing here? If it’s about Harold, I don’t know shit.” Stevie said, shifting nervously.
Solo stilled. “Now how would you know about Harold? Seeing as how his body was discovered less than two hours ago, I don’t see how that’d be possible.”
The unmistakable sound of a gun safety being released filled the small space.
“You plannin’ to kill us?” Solo asked. Although he had a small knife tucked into the back of his jeans, he doubted he could get to it and take Stevie out before the dickhead pulled the trigger.
“I’m sure as hell not gonna let you touch me again,” Stevie answered. He threw back the blanket, uncovering a Glock 9mm handgun. “I assume you’re here to do Easy’s dirty work, and I just can’t let that happen.”
“I haven’t even talked to Easy,” Solo said, hoping to distract Stevie enough for Rowdy to reach the Smith & Wesson he wore in a shoulder harness under his vest. “I was hoping to get Easy’s address from you.”
“He’s fucking crazy, man,” Stevie said. “Killed his own fucking brother and sent me pictures of it.”
“Why would he do that?” Solo asked as he slowly inched away from Rowdy.
Stevie broke eye contact, shifting his gaze to the window beside the front door.
Solo lunged off the sofa toward Stevie just as the front door exploded inward. There, silhouetted in the doorway, was the outline of the only person Solo had ever loved. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gun in Stevie’s hand swing toward Blue.
“No!” Solo screamed, throwing himself at Stevie. Too late, he heard the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears as his body collided with Stevie. The recliner tipped onto its side at the impact, throwing both Solo and Stevie to the floor.
The Glock pressed against Solo’s forehead hard enough to split the skin. Despite his ringing ears, he stared into Stevie’s crazed eyes, knowing he was about to die. All he could think about was Blue, and whether or not the shot had ripped through his perfect body.
Solo heard someone yell his name a split second before his face was splattered with blood and tissue as Stevie’s head exploded. Solo reared back in an attempt to get away from the gruesome sight.
Blue dropped to the floor beside Stevie’s lifeless body. “You need to get out of here before the cops are called,” he panted, holding his hand over a bloody patch on his shirt. “Wipe your fingerprints off everything you’ve touched and go.”
Solo shook his head and reached for Blue. “I’m not leaving you. You’ve been shot.”
“Help will get here in time, but they can’t catch you here.” Blue looked over his shoulder at Rowdy. “Get him out of here.”
“Come on,” Rowdy said, holding his hand out to Solo. “He’s right. The cops won’t believe we’re innocent in all this.”
Solo stared at Blue. He knew what lying to the police would mean for Blue if it was ever discovered. Knowing Blue was willing to sacrifice his career to keep him and Rowdy out of trouble meant everything. “I love you,” he whispered as Rowdy pulled him to his feet.
Blue grimaced and started to unbutton his shirt. “Love you. Now clean your fingerprints and go.” He tore his shirt off and balled it up to press against the gunshot wound on his side. “Forget the cleaning. Just go,” he panted, moving to rest his back against the wall.
Solo started toward the door, hating himself. “Easy killed Harold. There should be a picture of it on Stevie’s phone,” he told Blue before wiping the doorknob with the bottom of his T-shirt.
Blue nodded but didn’t say anything.
Sirens in the distance caught Solo’s attention. “Shit.” With one final look at Blue, he raced out the front door and across the parking lot to his Nova. He tossed the keys to Rowdy. “You drive.”
Rowdy pulled out of the parking lot. “Easy’s?”
“No. Blue’s earned that arrest. Take me to the clubhouse.” Solo leaned his head against the back of the seat. He had no doubt someone had spotted them leaving Stevie’s apartment. Hopefully, the fear of retaliation by the Grave Diggers would keep their mouths shut.
* * * *
By the time Rowdy parked the Nova in its normal spot outside the club, Solo was out of his mind with worry. “We should just go to the hospital.”
Rowdy quickly pocketed the keys as he climbed out of the car. “Not gonna happen.”
Solo got out and slammed the passenger door. “We just left him.” He’d never forget the gut wrenching fear that swallowed him whole when he heard Stevie’s gun go off. He began to pace the parking lot, yanking handfuls of his hair. “Christ! Blue saved both our asses, and we just fucking left him!”
“Oh, shit,” Rowdy said.
Solo turned just in time to see Switch walk toward them from the open garage bay. Fuck. The last thing he needed was to go up against his Prez. He moved to the opposite side of the Nova, trying his best to keep his back to Switch.
“What the hell’s got you so fired up?” Switch asked. “I heard you over Zeppelin, and that’s saying something.”
“We ran into some trouble at Stevie Boy’s,” Rowdy replied.
Solo curled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the hood of the Nova. “Rowdy!”
Rowdy narrowed his eyes and held his palm up. “We went to talk to Stevie like you asked, but he pulled a gun on Solo. We weren’t prepared, and couldn’t draw our weapons without one of us dying. Luckily, a cop busted the door in. Stevie shot the cop.”
“Oh fuck!” Switch growled.
Rowdy shook his head and continued. “I was reaching for my gun when Stevie pressed his against Solo’s forehead.” He glanced at Solo. “The cop was shot in the side but still managed to blow Stevie’s fucking head off before he could shoot Solo. He then told us to wipe down our fingerprints and get the hell out before other cops came.”
“Why the hell would he do that?” Switch asked, moving around the car to stare at Solo. “Fuck, you’re covered in blood.”
“That’s what happens when a man’s head explodes right in front of you,” Solo said, hoping Switch would forget about Blue. He didn’t understand why Rowdy was spilling his guts to the Prez, knowing the truth would get Solo killed.
“The cop’s a good guy. Hell, the only decent one I’ve ever met. He’s after the dealer who put that kid in the hospital, too, and has fed us information along the way.” Rowdy looked at Solo. “My brother is standing next to you right now because of that cop.”
Switch nodded. “Is this a situation we need to bring up in church?”
Solo knew what Switch was asking. He also knew it was Rowdy who had opened the door to the possibility, and for that he’d always be grateful. “Yeah, maybe. I think he’s earned a place as a friend of the club, but I’d like to talk to him about it first.” Fuck. He put his hands on his hips and stared up at the afternoon sun. “If he makes it. We left him there at Stevie�
�s, bleeding.”
“He told us to go,” Rowdy reminded Solo.
“Yeah. Doesn’t make it right.” Solo walked around the car and held out his hand. “Keys.”
“You can’t go to the hospital,” Rowdy said.
“I’m pissed off, not stupid.” Solo eyed his best friend. “I’d like to go home and wash the fuckin’ blood off me, okay?”
Rowdy looked to Switch.
“Give him the keys,” Switch said. “Get cleaned up then get your ass back here. We need to talk.”
Although Solo had no idea what he might be coming back to, he nodded. Running away from the club wasn’t an option, but after the day’s events, neither was running away from Blue. “Give me two hours.”
* * * *
Rowdy was waiting beside the door to the club when Solo climbed out of his car. “Feel better?” Rowdy asked.
“Not a goddamn bit.” Solo dragged his hands through his wet hair. “Who’s here?”
“All patched members that are in town.” Rowdy bumped his fist against the top of Solo’s shoulder. “You sure this is what you want?”
Solo thought of the ache that still clung to his chest after seeing Blue get shot. “I don’t have a choice. I love him.”
“Okay then. Let’s do it. I’ve got your back.” Rowdy opened the door.
Solo stared at his best friend. “Don’t know why you put up with me, but thanks.”
When Rowdy said nothing in reply, Solo walked into the clubhouse. The room was empty except the prospect tending the bar. “Church?” he asked Rowdy.
“Yeah. We’ll have to vote.”
Knowing a roomful of his brothers would vote on whether or not he could live and hold onto his colors hurt, but he wouldn’t back out.
Rowdy leaned over and whispered in Solo’s ear. “If it helps, I overheard a few of the guys say they’d always suspected you were gay or at least bi.”
“It doesn’t,” Solo replied. He hated the fact that his brothers had been questioning his sexuality behind his back instead of just asking him. He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms against his leg before opening the door to the meeting room. Most of his brothers were seated around the table and against the walls.
“Have a seat,” Switch ordered.
Solo strode to the table and stood in front of the chair he usually sat in. Sitting was the last thing he wanted to do if he was going to be jumped. Better to be on his feet. “With permission, I’d like to say something first.”
Switch scratched his jaw but eventually nodded.
Solo braced his hands on the long, scarred wooden table and addressed his brothers. “Some of you know why you’re here, but I can tell by the friendly faces that greeted me when I came into the room, that not all of you know what I’ve done.” He watched as the expressions on some of his brothers turned questioning. “A while back, I decided I liked dick over pussy.”
He waited for the statement to sink in before continuing. “I know that’s enough right there to lose your trust, and if it’ll make things better, I’ll be out in the parking lot following the meeting. Bring your pissed off attitudes and your fists and we’ll settle it one way or another.”
Grumbles between men filled the air as each brother turned to the man beside him to discuss the announcement.
Solo waited, and sure enough, Switch banged his gavel against the table, calling for quiet.
“Have a seat,” Switch ordered again.
With no other choice, Solo sank into his chair and waited for the Prez to direct the meeting.
“I don’t give a shit what you like to fuck as long as you stay away from my dog and my wife,” Switch said. “However, in your case, things might’ve been easier if you’d tried to hump my dog.”
Several brothers chuckled, but Switch quieted them with a stare.
Switch turned his attention back to Solo. “You’ve been seeing a cop,” he stated for the room to hear.
“Yes.” Solo refused to apologize for falling in love with Blue. “A cop who worked with me to find the sonofabitch who was selling drugs to kids.”
“A cop who was shot today saving my ass and Solo’s,” Rowdy added. “The same cop who told us to leave the scene before other cops surrounded the place. A cop who has put his own job on the line to protect us.”
“A fucking cop!”
“You’re a fucking traitor!”
Solo ignored the shouts from some of his brothers and glanced at his friend. It was one thing for Rowdy to stick up for him to Switch, but to do it in front of the entire club was huge.
“Since we’ve been working together, I’ve discovered there’s more to the cop than the badge. I’m not saying I’ve changed my attitude towards the police, but this one’s different. This one sees us for who we are and not just the colors we wear on our backs.” By the time Rowdy finished speaking his hands were fisted on the top of the table.
“He’s still a cop!” Roach argued.
“Yeah, he is,” Solo acknowledged. “He’s also the one who helped us prove that you didn’t have anything to do with poisoning that kid after fuckin’ Stevie Boy tried to point us in your direction.” He studied the room, making eye contact with each of his brothers. “I’ve risked my life for a lot of you in this room, and I will continue to have your backs, but I will not give up this man. Kill me, throw me out or accept that I would die for each and every one of you no matter who I love.”
* * * *
Eric opened his eyes to find Mr. Lee sitting beside his hospital bed. “Hey, Mr. Lee.”
Mr. Lee set his newspaper aside. “How many times have I told you to call me Martin?”
“Can’t do it,” Eric confessed. “And I believe I’ve told you that on several occasions.” The one lesson Eric learned from Mr. Lee was respect, and no matter what the older man said, Eric would always show him the respect he deserved.
“The doctor was in a while ago. Said you’d be getting out tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Eric placed his palm on the bandage. “It was a pretty clean shot. Nicked my liver, and I lost some blood, but nothing life threatening.”
“You were lucky,” Mr. Lee said.
Eric didn’t feel lucky. When he’d opened his eyes after getting out of surgery, Captain Wallace had been at his bedside, waiting to take his statement. He knew he couldn’t get away with a complete lie, after all, he had to have had a reason to kick Stevie’s door down, but he couldn’t tell the truth either. The whole thing had been a cluster fuck of epic proportions.
“Something you want to tell me?” Martin asked.
Eric stared at the only father figure in his life. Mr. Lee was a retired police officer, which severely limited the amount of information Eric could share. “Better not,” he mumbled.
Martin glanced down at his loud paisley print shirt. “I don’t see a badge, do you?”
Eric grinned. “I told Captain Wallace that I didn’t know the men Stevie held at gunpoint, but I did.”
Martin’s dark eyebrows drew together. “How do you know ‘em?”
“They didn’t do anything wrong,” Eric felt the need to explain. “They were at Stevie’s house for the same reason I was. All they want is to keep drugs away from the schools, but I know they won’t be treated fairly by the cops because of who they are.”
“So who are they?”
“Grave Diggers,” Eric confessed. He sighed heavily, wincing when the action pulled at his stitches. “I’m in love with one of them.”
Martin whistled. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Eric agreed. “The thing that gets me is knowing they’ll be treated unfairly while another player in the game is being overlooked on purpose because of who his dad is. I can’t come to terms with that.”
“What if the cops find out who was with you in that apartment?” Martin asked.
Eric shrugged. “I don’t know. I won’t tell them no matter what they do to me.” He’d given it a lot of thought and had come to the conclusion that perhaps he was in the wrong prof
ession. “I’ve been thinking about resigning anyway. I know Internal Affairs is looking into it, but I think it’s pretty obvious who shot first.”
“You’re quitting because you got shot? I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that.”
“It’s not the shooting. I thought about it before the shooting. The truth is, I’m in love, and I want that more than I want to be a cop.” Eric wasn’t sure how he and Solo could make it work, but from what he understood, it was his job that made life dangerous for them to be together. Eliminating the job seemed like a no-brainer. “Who knows, maybe I’ll take up photography as a career instead of just a hobby.”
Mr. Lee stared at Eric for several moments before digging into his pocket. He handed Eric a cell phone. “I got a call this morning from a man who seemed very concerned about you. Said his name was Sam. He asked me how you were doing, and when I thought you’d be out of the hospital. Don’t ask me why, probably something honest in the guy’s voice, but I told him the truth. I didn’t know when you’d be out, but I told him you’d be fine.”
Eric bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. The thought of Solo tracking Mr. Lee down and actually calling him, filled Eric’s heart to near bursting. “Thank you for trusting him.”
Mr. Lee nodded before handing Eric the phone. “I’m gonna go downstairs and grab something for lunch. Why don’t you give Sam a call and let him know you’re okay?”
Eric clutched the phone to his chest. “Thanks,” he said again.
Martin got to his feet and headed for the door. “By the way,” he said without turning around, “you’re one hell of a photographer. I’m sure you could make a go of it.”
Eric smiled, knowing it was Mr. Lee’s way of telling him he agreed with his decision.
* * * *
Solo sat in his regular booth alone, cleaning the blood from his knuckles. There had only been three brothers who’d met him in the parking lot after Church, and all three beefs had been settled by the time the fights were over. Switch had decided it would be best for Rowdy and Solo to stick close to the club until they knew for sure whether or not the police were looking for them.
