by Lexy Timms
The line rang and rang and finally went to voice mail.
“Luke, call me. I really need to speak to you.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Deal
Luke sat in the office of the lawyer Matt Stone referred him to. He had told him the entire story, everything he knew and suspected. Torres listened to him carefully until Luke stopped speaking.
Carey Torres pressed his fingers together and stared at Luke thoughtfully. “Well, Mr. Wade…”
“Luke, please.”
“Luke, I agree, some sort of informant was involved. And most likely he was given something for his testimony. This gives a lot of incentive to the informant to come up with something the police can use, whether or not it’s truthful. However¸ there’s nothing I can do until the police arrest you.”
“I understand that. I want to retain you anyway. Here’s five thousand dollars in cash.”
“Cash? Is there anything I should know about this money?”
“I’m beginning to wonder. The police who searched my house left it behind.”
“In the absence of any evidence.”
“Yes, but with the biggest asshole cop I’ve ever met, that wouldn’t have stopped them if he wanted.”
“Where did you get this cash?”
“My employee paid me back for the bond money I put up. He said he got it from his savings.”
Torres shrugged. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll have my secretary write you a receipt, and I’ll keep this in my safe and we’ll see how things play out.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“If the police call on you again, I want you to do these things. If they ask you questions, say: I’ll remain silent. I want to talk to my lawyer.” He waited for Luke to nod. “No matter how many questions they ask say the same thing. Give them no information. Second, if they come to search your house, or business, say: I do not give consent to this search. Even if they have a search warrant. Search warrants are very specific documents that often define the limits of the search. If they go beyond their search parameters then they can’t use what they find in a search. And just to be clear, they’ll take anything that makes it look like you were involved in a crime.”
“Good to know.”
“And if they detain you for any reason, call me day or night. I have an answering service that will call me if a client’s been detained or arrested.”
“Thanks. I’ve got something else. These bastards are bothering close friends. My girlfriend was harassed when she was at the courthouse doing some business there.”
“They’ll do that. If what you think is true happened, they’ll try to get information from anyone you know.”
“She’s in a bit of legal trouble and they pressured her with that.”
“Yeah, they’ll do that. It doesn’t mean much unless they arrest her. Does she have a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Then she’ll have to work with him if something comes up.”
“I see. Okay, then I won’t take up any more of your time.”
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you. Now I want you to do one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Stay out of trouble.”
Luke nodded. “I think I can do that.” As he walked back to his bike he checked his phone and blinked when he saw a call from Emily. He dialed her number immediately. “Emily. What’s up?”
“Oh, Luke. It’s awful. I lost my job today and on top of that, Evan got into my apartment and spray painted the word ‘bitch’ on my door. The police won’t do anything. They say there’s no proof.” Emily’s words tumbled out so fast it took him a minute to make sense of it all.
Luke’s free hand clenched into a fist. “Did you call your lawyer?”
“Yes. He hasn’t returned my call yet.”
“Take a pic of what he did. Then go pack your things, enough for a week or so.”
“But Luke—”
“No buts. You’re going someplace safe, and right now that’s not your apartment.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go that Evan can’t find me.”
“I’m sending a friend of mine to pick you up. His name’s Saks.”
“From your shop?”
“Yes. You stay with him until I come to get you, and that won’t be until later tonight or maybe tomorrow. But whatever you do, you stay inside his house.”
“Okay.”
She sounded scared. He hated that. “I’ll see you later. I’ll take care of it.”
“I love you, Luke.”
“Love you too. Later.”
#
It had been almost a decade since Luke drove to the Rojos clubhouse, but it seemed to have changed very little. The grand clubhouse of the Rojos was a dull yellow and aging trailer set on a piece of farmland on the edge of Westfield. It sat square in the middle of the property on top of a small hill. This position gave the people in the trailer an advantage in seeing down the long rutted path that led to the trailer. Luke never found out who owned the property. At the time he lived here it wasn’t important.
Gibs drove behind him on the road of hard packed earth. If there was gravel on this grade at one time, it wore away long ago.
Luke pulled up a hundred yards from the trailer, and Gibs stopped behind him. They both let their engines idle.
“You sure you want to sit this close, Luke?”
“We stepped into the range of fire long before we drove onto this property, Gibs,” said Luke as he wiped his palms on his jeans. “Hold up your hands, Gibs.” Luke held up his own and looked at the ramshackle trailer. “We’re unarmed,” he shouted.
Gibs swore under his breath.
There was no movement seen in the trailer.
“Are you sure they’re here, Luke?” asked Gibs. “I don’t see their bikes.”
“They keep them out of sight. There’s a dip in the land behind the trailer. That’s where they park them.”
“Estamos desarmados,” Luke shouted.
“Que quieres?” called a voice from the trailer.
“Quiero hablar!”
“Fuck this,” muttered Gibs.
“Steady, Gibs,” said Luke.
“Acerca de?”
“Cómo podemos ayudar a los demás.”
The door to the trailer burst open and a wiry Puerto Rican slammed his way out of the trailer. He stared hard at Luke. “What makes you think you can do anything for us.”
Luke took in the man’s patches on his denim cut. The usual cross and triple six patch decorated the area over his heart, as well as a thirteen patch and set of black and white wings. The cut telegraphed the man’s name, Sal, and rank, President. Behind him was the kid who knifed him at the Red Bull.
“That’s him, Sal,” the kid said.
Sal stared at Luke’s patches.
“Spade, blanco?”
“I call ‘em like I see them.”
“Ah, well what I see is a ghost that shouldn’t be here, citizen.”
“True, I don’t belong to such a worthy criminal organization such as yours, Sal. But our interests have merged.”
“Cómo?”
“Someone in the Hombres is looking to cut you out of the business by bringing in my club to handle it. I don’t like that idea. I’m sure you don’t either.”
Sal laughed. It was an ugly sound.
“Our brothers wouldn’t do that to us, cabron. Get the fuck off our land.”
“Wait. My brother here was at La Concha. He picked up a package there. Ask him about it.”
Sal scowled. “I should cut out your tongue. I might before I’m done. You,” he said, pointing to Gibs. “What did you see?”
“I met an older guy, in his fifties maybe. White beard. People called him ‘Wiz’ or ‘Wizard’.”
“That don’t mean nothing.”
“Does it mean something that he handed me a two-brick package of heroin?”
The Rojos face went from surprise to flushing red.
> “You’re lying.”
Gibs crossed his arms against his chest. “My arrest by the police says otherwise.”
“Sarmanbiche!” spit Sal.
“They’re lying, Sal,” said the kid behind him.
“Shut up!”
“But, Sal.”
“I said, close your trap!” To underscore his point, Sal whirled and smashed the kid in his face with his hand.
Gibs chuckled behind Luke.
“What’re you laughing at?”
“Let’s not get off track, Sal,” said Luke. “We have the same problem. I have no desire to get in the middle of Rojos and Hombres business.”
“And what do you want to do about it?”
“You attack your problem from your end. I’ll fix mine on this end. It’s as simple as that.”
“It ain’t simple, ese. You can say what you want, but I need something more solid to take it to the higher-ups.”
“What do you want?”
“The abombao Hombre that’s part of this. Deliver him and I can do something.”
Luke looked hard at Sal. “So what I’m telling you isn’t news.”
“People talk. So far I haven’t listened.”
“And now?”
“I think there’s been enough talking.”
#
Luke and Gibs pulled into the parking lot of the Westfield Diner and parked their bikes side by side.
“You sure you want to do this, man?” Gibs asked as they entered the diner. It was called a diner but looked more like a restaurant. Though there was a long counter to the back, booths filled the walls, and tables took up the floor. A bunch of people looked to the door to the two men wearing their club jackets. Luke took off his reflective sunglasses. Gibs kept his on.
“Yes. It’s a good public place. The bastard won’t try anything here.”
A waitress greeted them.
“We’d like a table,” said Luke.
Seated, they ordered coffee.
“Can I get you anything else,” the waitress asked.
“No, thanks. We’re waiting for someone.”
Gibs slowly stirred sugar into his coffee. “I thought you said that your lawyer told you to keep out of trouble.”
Luke sipped his black coffee. “He did.”
“And you’re ignoring good advice you paid for?”
“This trouble we should’ve cleared up months ago.” He was still trying to figure out how everyone had missed it.
Gibs shook his head. “This is a bad plan.”
Luke shrugged. “I don’t see another one.”
Before long, Aces strolled into the diner. Luke caught his gaze and Aces walked to the table. “Hey, Spades. What’s up?”
“Have a seat, Aces. Gibs and I have business to discuss with you.”
Aces slid his tall body into the chair and the waitress brought him coffee. When she left, Aces looked over the table to Luke. “Why’d you call me here, Spades?”
“You got Gibs into a bit of trouble.” There was no friggin’ way he was going to beat around the bush.
“What’re you talking about?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Aces. If you needed transportation you should have talked to me.”
“Again,” growled Aces, “what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I don’t talk about it, but ten years ago I hung around with the Rojos. I still have connections there.”
“Yeah, right,” spit Aces. He glanced around, suddenly interested in who else might be at the diner.
“No, Aces.” Gibs finally found his voice. “It’s true. They called Luke to their clubhouse today to ask him what the hell’s going on. They consider him the eyes on Hades’ Spawn.”
Luke shrugged. He was Hades’ Spawn but... “It’s how we live and let live. The Rojos know damn well that Hades’ Spawn has a rep in Tucson. Hell, the Rojos club in Tucson had dust-ups with the Spawn. You know all about that, don’t you, Aces?”
Aces’ eyes grew wide. “What the fuck you talking about, Spade?”
Luke leaned over. “Look, you asshole, the Spawn may have pushed around the Rojos in Tucson, but they’re associated with the fucking Hombres here. Blood brothers. You mess with the Rojos you mess with a fucking organization of the most brutal killers in gang history. Hell. They kill for their own president on a yearly basis. You think Lil’ Ricki is in Enfield because he got caught at something? He wanted to get caught just to put a wall of concrete and barbed wire between him and his own gang. You think being part of a one percenters club is going to protect you? These people have thousands, and I mean thousands, of members who literally kill to get into their organization. None of this skull and crossbones crap where you get a patch when you kill for the club. They don’t need no patch to announce they killed someone. If they are wearing a Rojos patch or Hombres colors you can be sure they got it by killing someone.”
Aces leaned back in his chair and hooked an arm around the back. He gave a hard stare to Luke as if he was reassessing him. “What’s your point, Spades?”
“The Rojos are pissed you pulled this crap, trying to cut them out of their business.”
“I was just exploiting a business opportunity.”
Good. He admitted to it. “You were fucking set up to take the fall for some bullshit move from an Hombre looking to cover his own ass. Maybe the cops caught him or maybe he’s just making some sideways play to move up in the organization. In any case, he’s trying to take the heat off him and put it on someone else. But the person you’re dealing with in the Hombres is an informant for the police. And you, asshole, fell for it hook, line and sinker.”
“Fuck you, Wade,” snarled Aces, leaning forward in his chair.
Luke leaned in also, nearly coming nose to nose with Aces. “Oh yeah, I’m fucked, and so is Gibs, and everyone else in the club if you don’t produce the Hombre you’ve been ‘doing business’ with. More than fucked. The Rojos’ll kill every last one of us. They won’t ask questions.”
Chapter Eighteen
Escape
Emily returned from speaking to Mrs. Diggerty about Reger. The dear woman was happy to take care of her cat for an extended period, and right now the tabby was exploring Mrs. Diggerty’s apartment, making himself at home.
The elderly woman had been shocked to learn Evan had entered the building and the first thing she did was call a locksmith to have the front door and Emily’s locks replaced. Emily apologized over and over to Mrs. Diggerty for causing so much trouble, but the dear woman shushed her.
“I’ve gotten too lax about these things. I should have put in a security system years ago. I’ll make some calls and see who I can get in here to install one.”
“But the cost, Mrs. Diggerty. You shouldn’t have to…”
“Emily, dear. Don’t worry. I’ve saved every dime of the rent on that apartment. I have plenty of money. Besides, a security system will lower my insurance payments.”
“But you said you needed the first floor apartment to make the bills.”
“And I do. But I save the money from the small apartment. It’s my rainy day fund.”
Emily didn’t feel good about leaving Mrs. Diggerty with her cat and an empty apartment she couldn’t pay for. However, she was glad the elderly woman had her life so well ordered that she wasn’t going to suffer for Emily’s problems. She only wished that eventually she could do the same with hers.
She had no idea how much to pack or what, but she decided to keep things light. A couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, a few thin polyester dresses and panties would get her through the next week or so. Emily pulled out a pair of strap sandals to wear with the dresses and packed a few toiletries and her makeup. All of this went into a duffle, which she could sling on her back if she rode a motorbike.
“Emily! Emily!”
She heard through her living room window. “What the—?” Emily froze. No! It couldn’t be. Please no! She looked out the window to see Evan standing there shouting.
&n
bsp; “Get out here, Emily. I need to talk to you! I know you’re home!”
Quickly, Emily dialed 911. “Dispatch. What’s the emergency?”
“My ex-boyfriend is outside in violation of a protective order. Please send someone! Hurry!”
“Who’s calling?”
“Emily Dougherty.”
“And your ex-boyfriend’s name?”
“Evan Waters. Please, he was already in my apartment once today.”
“You let him in?”
“No. He broke in.” Emily’s breathing kicked into high gear as she began to hyperventilate. She couldn’t talk, though the woman kept asking questions.
“Are you okay? Tell me what’s happening, Emily.”
Frantically, Emily moved to the kitchen to find a paper bag. Lightheaded, she swayed and bumped into the cabinets. Finally, she found a bag and sinking to the kitchen floor buried her face in it. She was exhausted by the time her breathing calmed and she didn’t think she could get up from the floor.
She heard a knock on the door and her heart sped up again. It couldn’t be Evan. He couldn’t be that stupid. She hadn’t heard sirens so it couldn’t be police. They never seemed to arrive on time these days. Or maybe it just felt like forever all the time now.
“Emily. It’s Saks, Luke’s friend. Are you there?”
“Oh goodness! Thank you, Lord!” Emily got up on shaky legs and stumbled to the door.
A tall, thin man stood in the doorway. His hair was dark and stylishly cut. Wearing jeans and a white V-neck tee, aside from his leather club jacket, he looked as clean cut as any man in her church. His brown eyes widened when he saw her. “Are you okay? You look as pale as a ghost.”
“Did you see him?” She glanced anxiously over Saks’ shoulder, standing on her tippie toes to peer over him.
“Who?”
“Evan, my ex. He was just outside shouting my name.”
“No. I didn’t.” Saks frowned. “It’s a good thing I got here now. You have a bag?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“The bedroom.” She pointed toward it.
