Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club)

by Debra Kayn

  Cam, Merk, Jeremy, and Gunner walked up to Jacko. Tension crawled up the back of Jacko's neck. The timing and location had to be perfect, or he risked everyone's lives.

  Jacko swayed. "Merk, what time were you released last time?"

  "Eleven o'clock," said Merk.

  Jacko looked at Cam. "You?"

  "Ten the last time and ten thirty the time before that." Cam brought his cigarette to his mouth. "Gunner?"

  "Noon," said Gunner.

  "Fuck," Jacko muttered. "I'm calling Pretaro."

  "No, give him time. It took a lot of work on your part egging on Los Li to show their partnership with Reds. You want to keep Flores comfortable enough to pick up Quijada. If you want to kill them both, you need to wait." Cam reached over and hooked Jeremy's neck. "Shit goes down, kid, I want you to hightail it out of here, huh?"

  "Is that an order from my president or my dad?" Jeremy spoke around the chew in his bottom lip. "Because I don't plan on ripping off my patch today. Jacko needs every man here. I'm staying."

  Cam poked Jeremy in the shoulder. "Keep your ass alive then."

  Jeremy lifted his chin in reply and turned his head and spit. Jacko bounced on his feet. He should've heard something from Pretaro by now. The faster he got the job, the sooner he could straighten out Amy's life. Taking her to the cemetery was the best thing for her and the most fucked up idea he had. He'd nailed the lid on his coffin.

  Jacko's phone vibrated. He stilled, holding up his hand for everyone to shut up, and swyped the screen.

  "Yeah." He eyed Cam and nodded when Pretaro opened his mouth.

  "Quijada left five minutes ago," said Pretaro.

  "Who picked him up?" He walked a path around his motorcycle, studying the interstate, knowing he had one chance.

  "Nobody signed in. Quijada met someone outside the gate, and the driver never stepped out of the car, so I can't even give you a description." Pretaro's voice cut in and out over the phone.

  "What kind of car?"

  "Hang on." Silence came over the phone.

  Jacko rubbed the back of his neck. He'd taken the rumors of Flores being in the states and spread bullshit far and wide inside the prison. He counted on Los Li showing their need for revenge on Quijada and escorting him to his death. Except he wanted to get to Quijada before Flores had a chance to kill him. Then, take Flores out.

  "It was a navy colored, four-door car. I can't make out the model on the security tape, maybe a Lincoln or Cadillac," said Pretaro.

  "You have a shot of the car in front of you?"

  "Yeah."

  "Is there any hood ornament?" Jacko turned to Cam and held out his two fingers and brought them to his mouth.

  Cam passed him a smoke. Jacko inhaled the nicotine.

  "Yes, there's a BMW ornament, but the car isn't a Mercedes. It's too big. We're talking a boat," said Pretaro.

  Jacko nodded to Cam. "Thanks, man. I owe you."

  He disconnected the call. "Quijada got picked up at the gate by a marked Los Li vehicle. Pretaro doesn't know who the driver is, but he gave me a positive identification of a car owned by the Mexican mafia."

  "Are you staying with the plan?" Cam's gaze searched the area.

  Jacko ran his hand over his face. He took a chance staying here, out in the open, but he wanted the two men confident and secure in their surroundings. With so many eye witnesses, they wouldn't expect him to make a move and risk getting thrown back in prison for life.

  Quijada and Flores believed he was stupid. He sucked on the cigarette. He was just crazy.

  "Yeah, we stick with the plan." Jacko looked each of his MC brothers in the eye. "You can move out and let me take this one. I have no problem going alone."

  "Hell no, I'm in." Gunner reached up and slapped his bicep. "I'll back you."

  "I'm in," said Jeremy.

  Jacko's shoulders tensed. Cam's kid wasn't even twenty-one years old. He hadn't seen the inside of a prison cell, and he'd only been present during two killings. His hands remained free of blood.

  He turned his back on Jeremy and faced Cam. His president had the last say. If Cam wanted Jeremy out, he'd need to take the kid on a ride.

  "We're in." Cam dipped his chin. "Moroad for life."

  Jacko's legs stilled, and his feet stayed planted. He calmed. After five years of hunting Sarah's killers, he'd end his job today if his plan came together.

  Each man walked a few paces away, preparing themselves for a confrontation. Jacko took the opportunity to go over the details. He'd set Cam up with instructions on what to do with the money allotted to him by the extortion agreement. Amy would be protected and financially supported.

  A deep ache settled in his chest. He rubbed the area. Financial security for Amy wasn't the only thing he'd set up. Regardless if he made it out alive or not, Amy's life would forever be changed by the end of the day. He'd given a package to Cam earlier to deliver to Amy once he took out Flores and Quijada.

  Cam would make the delivery seven days after he failed to return. Once the package sat in her hands, Amy would hate his guts for what he'd done.

  Leaving her standing at the door of the motel left him with a memory of the one person who believed in him, despite the shit he handed her. Instead of pulling away, she pulled him closer.

  The hardest thing he'd ever done was walk away, knowing it was the last time he'd ever see her.

  "Your head okay?" asked Cam.

  Jacko gazed around and found himself alone with his president. The one man who he relied on and willingly supported him through all the trouble he'd brought into the club.

  "I never thought I'd see the day everything would end. I thought I'd go insane before I reached this point. I've discovered I'm stronger than I thought I was because last night tore me apart. I walked away from the woman who owns my heart." Jacko laughed to keep the pain from suffocating him. "I've had two women, two sisters. They each gave me different things. Sarah...I learned from her how not to do everything wrong. I tried, Cam. Fuck knows in my own way; I loved her. I needed her positivity to stay ahead of my troubles and for a year, I'd done all right. I think I made her happy."

  Cam gazed down at his boots. "What about Amy?"

  "I love her. That makes me a fucked up mess, but she accepted me, all of me, even though I only gave her parts. If there were any way I could undo the past, bring Sarah back, keep myself out of prison for a few years, I'd hand her my life. She more than loves me. She's independent and fuck...she feels with her heart. What we have goes deeper than our connection with Sarah. She fucking gives me permission to be who I am and questions me. She's not afraid to piss me off and push me to open up. She told me she was in, man." He looked Cam in the eyes. "She not only tries to understand me, but she stayed."

  Cam sighed. "Brother, it is not too late to walk away."

  "No. I can't do that, man." Jacko rocked to the tips of his boots. "I need to finish what I started. For Sarah. For Amy. For myself."

  "You're good then, huh?" Cam tapped the pack of cigarettes against his palm, offered one to Jacko, and lit both their smokes before handing one to him.

  Jacko held the cigarette to his mouth to hide the pain. "I'm doing the right thing. At first, I thought I was protecting Amy. Then she showed up in Federal and after getting to know her, I realized I'd killed any chance with her before we even got together. She'll never forgive me. I never wanted her to find out. Every day, it hurts. It hurts so fucking much to know I caused this. I never wanted her to feel that kind of pain. But, fuck, she's strong. She can hate me, and she'll live through it. I only hope she can live through what I'm putting in her lap. That's all I care about."

  He'd finish the job for Amy. She could live the rest of her life with all the answers he provided in the package waiting to be delivered to her back at Cam's place. One day, she'd understand his third reason for why he'd gone insane. It wasn't an act.

  Twenty minutes later, Jeremy spotted the navy colored, four-door sedan and set off the chain of events. Jacko
started his motorcycle and led Cam, Merk, Gunner, and Jeremy onto the interstate.

  The sedan cruised the speed limit. He put more pressure on the throttle and sped up. There was no turning back.

  The closer he got to Flores and Quijada, the calmer he became. The fibers in his body stopped shaking. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. His mind settled. And, he tasted blood.

  Thirty yards behind the vehicle carrying the last two men on his list, he took his hand off the throttle, removed his gun, and as he lost space between the vehicle and his motorcycle, he shot the right rear tire.

  The sedan veered into the left lane, overcompensating the blowout, before going back toward the shoulder and slowing down. He rode off to the edge of the interstate and came to a complete stop twenty-five feet behind the car to have the most coverage.

  Moroad members followed him, spreading out and making bigger targets. He exited the motorcycle, caught his balance, and approached the rear left side of the car.

  Aiming his pistol through the back windshield, he kicked the rear panel. "Get out."

  Both front doors swung open. Flores stepped out first from the driver's seat. His black hair pulled back in a ponytail, he held up his hands and turned. Deep pock marks covered his cheekbones. Shorter and slimmer than Jacko, Flores presented himself in a black suit, white shirt, and slim black tie with a confidence he'd earned. Deadly with knives with a sick hard-on for women and killing, Flores tongued the toothpick clenched between his teeth.

  "Get off the road and keep your hands up." Jacko kept his pistol aimed at Flores' chest.

  "You're making a mistake, Jacko," Flores said while following the instructions.

  Ignoring his taunts, Jacko yelled, "Quijada, get out."

  All three hundred pounds of attitude, Quijada heaved himself to his feet and took three lumbering steps to join Flores at the side of the road.

  Behind Jacko, Merk and Jeremy moved around the car and covered Jacko's left. Cam and Gunner covered the right. A barbwire fence behind the two captives kept them from running toward an alfalfa field.

  Cars whizzed behind Jacko. By the sound, witnesses slowed down and gawked at the shocking scene as they drove by. He assumed the emergency dispatch center had received at least six calls by now about men on motorcycles holding guns on two innocent men.

  "You've had a half hour of freedom, Quijada. In my opinion, that's a half hour too long." Jacko pulled the trigger.

  The loud bang from the gun blown away by the passing cars. Quijada fell to his knees clutching his chest. Jacko walked to him and grabbed his long black hair and lifted his face. He wanted to see the motherfucker's eyes when he took his life.

  "She was twenty-two years old," he said. "She'd only had one man until you stole her from me."

  Quijada stared up at him. Blood dribbled from his mouth, but his gaze remained steady and clear.

  Jacko leaned down and whispered in his ear, "When I see you in hell, it won't be my cock I shove up your ass."

  A moan came from Quijada, and the weight of holding up his head became too much for the dying man. Jacko let go, straightened, and put a bullet in Quijada's brain.

  Another shot rang out, and Flores cried out, holding up his foot. A wide hole apparent in the top of his shoe.

  Jacko glanced to his left, knowing the shot never came from his gun.

  Jeremy shrugged, lowering his pistol. "He moved."

  Without pausing, Jacko sidestepped to Flores. His hatred burned deep. He wanted a day, a week, a fucking month to pay the leader of Los Li back for what he'd put Sarah through and the ordered hit on Amy.

  Sirens came from the distance. He'd ran out of time.

  "Put your right hand out in front of you." Jacko stepped back.

  Flores looked at the others and finding no help, held his arm out. Jacko shot through the middle of his hand. Two fingers fell off.

  "That's for touching my woman." Jacko lowered his arm and aimed between Flores' legs. "You're not giving me much to work with, but I think I can hit your little pecker with one shot.

  Flores pitched forward and rolled, protecting his balls. Jacko kicked him to his back and planted his boot in the middle of Flores' chest, pinning him to the ground.

  "Have mercy," Flores cried, panic possessing his eyes. "My children. My wife."

  "Did my woman beg for mercy?" Jacko's hand shook with fury.

  Flores shook his head.

  "No, she didn't, you motherfucker." Jacko reached down and shoved the pistol in Flores's mouth and aimed up at his brain. "She was worth more than you, and you killed her."

  Flores still, his eyes going wide. Jacko squeezed the trigger multiple times until the clip ran out of bullets, and he pulled his pistol out Flores' mouth and stated, "I'm done."

  Flores lay on his back, his arms at his sides, the top of his head blown off, and his eyes staring up at the sky as if he'd lost his mind. The scene in front of Jacko, exactly how he'd pictured Flores for the last five years and recreated the moment himself every single fucking day.

  "Cops are coming. We need to get out of here." Cam grabbed Jacko's vest and pulled him away.

  Jacko shoved his pistol in his back pocket, hopped on his Harley, and glanced behind him. Three black state patrol cars rolled toward him. He motioned his arm for the others to ride and rode off.

  The roar of motorcycles filled the air at full throttle. In his side view mirror, Jeremy fell back putting distance between himself and the Moroad members. Jacko looked at Cam, motioned behind him, and watched his president lose his stony indifference.

  "That stupid fucking kid," Cam yelled into the wind. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

  Jacko took a second look over his shoulder. Jeremy raised his arm giving a one finger salute, stopped his bike in the middle of the lane of traffic, and took law enforcement's attention off his MC brothers and his father.

  Jacko inhaled deeply, respect flooding him. The kid had his back.

  As the only Moroad Motorcycle Club member who had never spent time behind the Cyclone fence, Jeremy made the decision to take one for his MC brother and earn his patch, his loyalty and in the end, his father's respect.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  The flames from the fire licked the sky from the bigger than usual pile of wood. Amy stood outside the circle of men and away from the group of women sitting against the building by the tables. The seven days since Cam, Merk, and Gunner came back without Jacko and Jeremy were filled with unanswered questions, longing, and depression.

  Everyone, including the women, refused to talk about Jacko's location or if he was alive. The only information she'd gathered came from Cam, who had made a blanket statement to the club that the danger was over. There was no mention of Jacko's wellbeing or his location, and she'd come to her own conclusion.

  Jacko was in prison or he was dead. Those were the only two reasons he wouldn't keep his promise of returning to her.

  She hugged her middle, aching from the tension riddling her body. Seven days of sleeping alone without Jacko cuddled against her, she continually shook, even in the daytime, unable to keep the chill away.

  Until she walked into prison and talked to Jacko or she watched his body lowered into the ground, she needed to stay positive.

  Jacko's parents had left and turned their backs on their son.

  She would not abandon him.

  He'd gone after Sarah's killers out of guilt over his lifestyle bringing danger to her sister, and she'd stand by him forever.

  A female scream pulled her out of her musings. Goosebumps broke out along her arms, and she found herself hurrying over to the group of women.

  Tiff's outrage turned to sobs as Lola held her, trying to muffle her crying against her shoulder. Amy turned to the closest person to ask what happened and found Christina covering her mouth, silent tears rolling down her face. Panicked, she searched the Moroad men's faces.

  Cam stood woodenly with his hand buried underneath Christina's hair. Bear gazed
at the ground and spit. Stache twirled his mustache, remaining silent. Meese paced back and forth behind the women.

  Amy shook her head, refusing to get caught in whatever news spread amongst the club.

  She didn't want to hear what caused the upset in Jeremy's girlfriend or his stepmom.

  She didn't want to feel their heartache.

  She didn't want to be here.

  She didn't want to hear the news that came next.

  She stepped away, turned, and walked toward her motel room to stay oblivious to the news sweeping through the club. She walked faster, putting distance between her and the devastation sweeping through everyone. Her adrenaline kicked in with the sudden need to get inside, lock the door, and shut out the negativity.

  "Amy?" Cam called out.

  Her fears breathed down the back of her neck. She swung her arms and put one foot in front of the other, propelling herself forward where she could hide from the truth.

  "Amy." Cam grabbed her arm and brought her to a stop.

  She panted, holding up her hand. "Don't. Whatever you're going to say, keep it to yourself. I don't want to know what happened back there. I don't want to hear what you have to say. I don't...I can't. I won't do this."

  Cam cocked his head and frowned. Her spine stiffened, and she drew herself to her full height, fighting the panic.

  "Amy, I need to tell you—"

  "No." She squeezed her eyes closed as if that would keep the words from reaching her.

  Jacko was dead.

  The same men who killed Sarah had murdered Jacko.

  He was gone. There was no one left. She was alone.

  "Honey, you need to open your eyes and look at me." Cam exhaled loudly. "I don't know what you're thinking, but what I'm going to tell you is not what is hurting you right now."

  She blinked and focused her vision on Cam's beard and watched his mouth harden beneath his beard. "On our run last week, Jeremy got arrested. This morning, the judge handed down the sentence for the murder of two men and revoked his bail."

  "Jeremy?" She shook her head. "He's in prison?"

  Cam nodded. "He'll have to go in front of a jury and evidence will come into play. They can only match his weapon with the gunshot to one of the victim's foot. It was not one of the bullets that killed the men, but the system has never leaned in favor of a member of a motorcycle club member associated with other felons."