One That Got Away

by Lexy Timms

  Chapter Two

  Consequences

  The Rojos screamed and ran at Luke. Bre held his fists in front of him and swung at him.

  Luke turned to one side, and grabbing Bre’s shoulders, threw him into the wood privacy fence at the border of the property.

  “Madre,” Bre cursed, standing unsteadily. He brushed his pants with his hands and gave Luke a hard stare.

  Luke held up both hands, and with his fingers motioned for the Rojos to come and get him.

  The Rojos flew at him again just as gracelessly, but this time as he did so, he pulled a knife from his pocket.

  Luke didn’t see it until the last moment when it caught the glint of light of the floods. He was going to let the Rojos fly past him again so he’d experience the humiliation of his own incompetence. However, the knife changed the game. He let the man step in and Luke caught him in the throat with an elbow, making him lean back. Swiftly, Luke threw his other elbow into the man’s solar plexus, causing him to grunt and drop his knife. He kneed the Rojos in the groin, and Bre stumbled back. Luke laid his hands into the man’s face with an uppercut to the jaw and landed successive blows on his face. The satisfaction he wanted to feel didn’t come. The fight left him drained, tired and still frustrated. Nothing more.

  The Rojos staggered then dropped to the blacktop, his mouth and nose bleeding.

  Luke squatted next to him. “Hey, asshole. Had enough?”

  Bre gave him a glassy stare and groaned.

  “There’s a reason why you were told not to bother me, man. That’s one. The other is that your presidente wants to take a crack at me when he gets out of prison. I know. Not the usual order of things, but I’ve managed to piss him off good. You won’t fuckin’ earn your patches by taking me on. There’s always one asshole every month or so thinking to make points. Take my advice. Keep your mouth shut. Most likely, if your leadership hears about this, they won’t just drum you out; they’d beat you out. Understand?”

  The man barely nodded.

  “Good.” Luke stood and turned to the small crowd that witnessed the fight. He walked toward them after picking up his jacket from the ground to push his way through the crowd.

  “Luke! Watch out!”

  A searing pain ripped through Luke’s thigh. He stumbled and someone held him up. He glanced back to the Rojos, who gave him an ugly grin. Wincing, Luke craned his neck to find a small thin knife sticking out of the back of his thigh.

  “Get John,” someone called. Others rushed over to the Rojos and held him down.

  A few moments later John came out the back door of the Red Bull and stared at the scene. He muttered, but Luke couldn’t understand what he said. He pulled out his cell phone.

  “Don’t,” Luke said through gritted teeth.

  “It’s a knife wound, Spade. It’s nothing to fuck with.”

  “You,” shouted John to the Rojos. “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Get the hell outta here then before the police come.”

  The Rojos got up and staggered toward the parking lot.

  “Another thing,” John called after him. “Don’t come back here. Ever.”

  A murmur went through the crowd. People were rarely banned from the bar.

  Bre spun around and sneered, “Who’d want to come back here?” He merged in the gathering dark as he went to his vehicle.

  “And the rest of you get out of here. The bar’s closed.”

  When people lingered. He barked, “Now! No witnesses. Everyone, keep your fucking mouths shut.”

  The person holding Luke handed him off to John. Luke winced as he hopped on his good leg. Police sirens roared up the highway.

  “What’re you going to tell them, John?”

  “That some idiot attacked you in the parking lot looking to rob you.”

  “They won’t believe that story.” He tried to keep his voice low and hide the pain shooting up his leg. He was itching to pull the blade out but knew it could cause more damage than good.

  John stared hard at Luke. “Yes, they will if I tell the story. Come on. Let’s move into the lot and make this more believable.” He helped Luke limp over just as the fire and ambulance pulled in. There were few questions as a paramedic set him on a stretcher prone, and stabilized the knife in his leg.

  The police insisted on questioning him at the hospital. He lay on his stomach in the ER bed staring at the walls with his anger simmering. He was waiting for the doctor when the two police officers who had surveyed the initial scene showed up in his hospital room.

  “So you really didn’t get a look at this guy?” Officer Ignati sounded as if he didn’t believe Luke. He stood at the head of the bed on one side, and his partner stood at the head on the other. The guy’s partner’s face told Luke he didn’t believe him either.

  Luke couldn’t blame either man. “Sorry, officer. My back was turned. I was heading to my bike.”

  Ignati saw Luke’s jacket on the chair. “So this has nothing to do with club business.”

  “We’re a social club. Nothing more.”

  “Because that’s an awful funny place to get a wound from a mugging.”

  “I can’t help it if the jerk had poor aim.”

  “Uh huh. And he got clean away. You didn’t do anything to try to get him?”

  “Officer, there was a knife in my leg. How was I supposed to run after him?”

  “And none of your club was there with you?”

  “Nope. Fighting solo tonight.”

  “Fighting solo?” The officer repeated Luke’s words, emphasizing the word fighting. “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t spend every minute with the club, officer,” growled Luke, getting tired of waiting and lying on his stomach, which he disliked.

  “Patience, Mr. Wade. We just have to check these things out. I’m also going to need to look at your driver’s license?”

  “What the fuck?” Luke knew better to swear, but he was losing patience now.

  “Luke? Luke Wade?”

  He couldn’t place the voice or see who entered the room since his head lay facing away from the door. He tried shifting and grimaced from the pain so he twisted his head, but one of the policemen stood blocking his view.

  “Officers. I need to ask Mr. Wade some questions regarding billing before the doctor can see him. So if you don’t mind, please wait outside.”

  The officers looked at each other and walked out of the room.

  Luke felt a hand on his good leg. He turned to see a petite lady with longer brown hair dressed in a skirt and blouse. She looked all business and sweet at the same time.

  “I’m Angela, Angela Dougherty. Emily’s sister.” She moved to the head of the bed. “I work in billing. Boy, was I surprised when I saw your name in the computer.”

  “Hey, Angela.” This was not exactly how he wanted to meet Emily’s family. First night back with Emily and he drops her off at her place with her parents standing outside her house and now this. “Sorry, I can’t get up.”

  She waved her hand, then set it on her hip. “Does Emily know you are here?”

  “No,” he said grimly.

  “Oh,” she said with concern in her voice, and something else. He had no idea how a single word could carry so much meaning. “Okay then, I need your insurance information.”

  “In my wallet. Back pocket.”

  “Emily told me you have your own shop.”

  “Yeah.” He wished she didn’t have to bring Emily’s name up. He didn’t want to think about her at this moment.

  “And you have insurance?”

  “Doesn’t everyone have insurance these days?” He tried to make the comment sound light and joking, but it came out sounding sarcastic.

  “Yes, of course.” Her tone gave nothing away this time.

  “I have a business policy for me and my employees.”

  “Must be expensive.” She made a note on the chart she carried.

  “Cost of doing business.” Was
she digging for information or just making conversation? It wasn’t a professional remark. Luke felt a tugging at his back pocket, and he winced as his damaged muscles felt as if they were being yanked.

  “Sorry,” said Angela.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  She handed him his wallet.

  He leaned up on his elbows and opened the old black leather worn wallet. “Here’s the card.”

  She took it from him and smiled. “I’ll just make a copy. I’ll be right back.”

  He dropped his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes when she left. It had been an incredibly long day. He just wanted the doctor to come in and fix his leg so he could go home. He’d have to take a taxi since his bike was still at the Red Bull.

  He heard more footsteps and assumed it was Angela returning. He was wrong.

  “Oh, Luke! Are you okay?” Sheila Harmon’s voice squealed, her quick heels tapping hurriedly as she moved to the head of the bed.

  Luke groaned. “What’re you doing here, Sheila?”

  “I wanted to check to see if you were okay.”

  “Don’t you remember John saying to get lost?”

  “Yeah. But you were hurt.”

  “Did you check out those police officers out there? They’re questioning me, Sheila. You need to leave.”

  “I won’t say anything. Someone has to look after you.” She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair to brush it out of his eyes.

  More footsteps entered the room. He wished he could see who was coming and going. “Okay, Luke.” Angela stopped speaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Shit! “Angela,” Luke said quickly, “you remember Sheila Harmon. She was in my class in high school.”

  “Yeah,” Angela said slowly. “Good to see you, Sheila. Well, everything is set on the insurance side. I’ll just put this back in your wallet.” She reached for his wallet and fumbled as she tried to stuff his insurance card back inside. She gave up and set the wallet and card on the stand beside his bed. “It’s here on the table. See you later, Mr. Wade.” Her tone was now professional and clipped.

  Luke groaned. Emily would hear about this, including, Sheila Harmon in the room with him.

  “Are you okay, Luke?” Sheila asked in a baby voice.

  “For shit’s sake, Sheila! Can you please leave?” Luke wished he could.

  “Fine, Luke.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I hope you feel better soon. Call me if you need anything.” She grabbed a business card out of her purse and wrote something down on the back before setting it beside his wallet.

  “Thanks,” he muttered and wiped his face.

  Ignati and his partner walked into the room again when Sheila left. Ignati cleared his throat. “We need to ask a couple more questions and then we’ll be out of here.”

  “Sure,” said Luke, suppressing a groan. His thigh throbbed painfully, as did his head.

  “Your driver’s license?”

  “Hand me my wallet, please.”

  The police officer tossed him the wallet. It landed right beside his face on the pillow.

  “Here,” said Luke, handing him the I.D. card.

  Ignati looked at it and wrote some things down on a notepad he took from his pocket, then gave the license back to Luke.

  The other guy moved close enough for Luke to read his name badge. Ricci. He needed to remember that. “And you didn’t see the man’s face?” Ricci asked.

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  “Okay,” shrugged Ignati. “One of our detectives will contact you.”

  Really? For a knife wound? Luke bit back the comment. “Okay, officer. Thanks for everything.”

  Finally the doctor arrived, and the policemen left. The doctor stitched him up and sent him, prescription in hand, on his way. It was nearly seven o’clock in the morning and except for some dozing off here and there, he hadn’t slept. But there were things he had to do, and he didn’t enjoy the prospect of the long day ahead. He gingerly sat on the bed, thankful for the prescription to numb his leg. He stuffed his wallet and cards in his back pocket.

  Saks walked into the room as Luke was trying to put his boots on. “Hey.”

  “What’re you doing here?” Luke blinked in surprise.

  “John called. He said you were here.” Saks shrugged. “Figured you needed a ride. I came in an hour ago and waited.”

  “John called you?”

  “Little known fact. He’s my cousin.”

  “Uh-huh. Here, give me a hand.”

  Saks helped Luke put the boot for his injured leg on. “So, what happened?” he asked.

  “Some idiot brought a knife to a fist fight.”

  Saks stared at him before straightening. He waited a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. “You not going to tell me the details then?”

  “Best not to.” Luke figured the less who knew the details, the better.

  “Fine. I’ll take you home.”

  Luke shook his head. “No, take me to the shop and help me get my bike home.”

  “Yeah, because it’s always wise to ignore doctor’s orders.” Saks rolled his eyes.

  Luke hefted his weight onto the crutches the hospital had given him. He grinned. “Yeah. What orders would those be?”

  Saks picked up the papers the nurse left Luke on the side table. “The ones that say keep your leg elevated for a couple days and restrict movement.”

  Luke waved his hand before grasping the handle part of the crutch for support. “Later.”

  “I’ll call Gibs and tell him to open the shop.” Saks reached for his phone hanging off his belt.

  Shit. “Gibs isn’t coming to work today.”

  “Gibs? Not at work?” Saks’ bushy eyebrows rose.

  Luke hobbled with the crutches toward the exit, purposely avoiding Saks’ question. “Hey, I appreciate you coming down, but we need to make tracks.”

  “Okay, Boss.”

  Saks kept glancing at Luke as they drove to the shop. Luke kept his eyes on the road. The morphine they gave to stitch him up had long since worn off and his thigh was throbbing. However, there was shit to do and nothing was going to stop him.

  At the shop they switched Saks’ car for Luke’s SUV and Luke drove it to the Red Bull where Saks loaded Luke’s bike on the trailer. They brought it back to the shop and unloaded it in the back. Luke hobbled to his office and printed up what orders and repairs needed to be done today. He handed it to Saks. “You’re in charge. Text if you need me.”

  Luke crawled back in the SUV, his jaw clenched from the pain in his leg. It was eight thirty in the morning now, and Luke wanted to get a shower and some clean clothes. Getting up the stairs to his apartment on crutches was strenuous, and by the time he was in his apartment the only thing he wanted was to put the throbbing leg up. He swallowed two of the pain pills the doctor had prescribed at the same time. Foregoing a shower, he cleaned up the best he could, dressed, and made a makeshift ice pack from ice in his fridge. He put the ice pack under his leg as he drove to the Superior Courthouse in Middletown.

  Getting down from the SUV was as much an adventure on the crutches as waiting in line at the courthouse to get in. Irritated, he sighed and leaned his weight on the props under his armpits, trying to give his sore leg some reprieve. He had left his colors at home, just to avoid aggravation, but he needed to go through the metal detector. Seeing him on crutches the officers manning the detectors waved him over and ran the wand over him.

  “Where can I find out what’s on the docket?” asked Luke.

  An officer pointed to a kiosk on the left side of the hall. Luke hobbled over and looked over the docket. His mouth dropped when he found Gibs.

  Gibson, Francis, Possession of Controlled Substance/Intent to Sell

  Anger began to boil in Luke’s gut. This shit again? Didn’t the club have enough to live down with Okie in prison? He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he intended
to find out. Gibs had a lot to explain. A hell of a lot.

  Luke’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it and flipped it on. “What?” he growled.

  “Luke?” It was Helen, Gibs’ wife. She sounded worried. “Have you seen Gibs? He didn’t come home last night.”

  “Um, sorry Helen.” He lowered his voice and tried to sound apologetic. He wasn’t sure what to tell her. He ran a few scenarios in his head, before finally answering. “I had a little accident and I’ve been in the Emergency Room the entire night. He’s here now squaring away a few things.”

  “Oh, okay.” The relief in her voice made him feel incredibly guilty. “What an idiot. He should have called.”

  “Yes,” agreed Luke. “He should have.”

  “Tell him to call when he gets a chance.”

  “I will.” He hated lying to Helen, but it wasn’t his place to tell her what was going on. That was Gibs’ job.

  The doors to the courtroom opened and because of his injury, the guard let him through first. Luke hobbled in with everyone else after him to wait.

  Chapter Three

  The Warning

  The dark circles under Emily’s eyes bore witness to her sleepless night. She had given up on actually sleeping long before the sun had risen. She’d tossed and turned in bed, unable to get her brain to relax and stop trying to overthink everything regarding Luke. In the wee hours of the night, her mind had gone from terrible outcomes to the worst imaginable.

  On one hand, what Angela said was entirely correct. Emily couldn’t afford to get into any more trouble by dating someone who was associated with criminals. On the other, the words Luke spoke to her the last time she was with him rang in her ears.

  “Emily, you seriously going to tell me that you’re going to let bullshit like this get in the way of us?”

  She turned the alarm off way before it was set to go off, made her bed, fed Reger, and took a shower mechanically. She moved through her apartment as if all life had drained from her. The anger and desolation she experienced that summer when her parents forbade her to see Luke filled her once more. It was like a funeral. Like losing someone close to her and she felt lost.

  That same sense of failure engulfed her. Once again, circumstances spun out of her control. What was she supposed to do? Deny her love for him once again and walk away? Should she jeopardize her future because an idiot ex-boyfriend threw every obstacle in her way? Was fate having a laugh at her again? Or was this punishment for—