Last Mile

by Katie Ashley

  “The bureau contacted his parents, and we’re flying them out of Concord on the next plane. As his next of kin, they’ll be taking care of him from here.”

  As I stared down into my once-again-empty cup, I couldn’t imagine the grief the McTavishes were experiencing. I might’ve lost my partner and best friend, but Gavin was their only son—their baby boy after two girls. They’d always been so supportive of him, from when he became an agent to when he came out.

  Not wanting to think about them or my grief, I met Peterson’s gaze. “I guess we need to start working on what kind of story we’re going to spin to Bishop and the other Raiders.”

  Peterson eased forward, taking my hand in his. “Samantha, there’s no easy way to say this, nor is there a right time to say it.”

  I knew the shit was about to hit the fan when he didn’t call me Vargas like always. I glanced up at him. “What is it?”

  He exhaled a painful sigh. “Look, I’m just going to cut to the chase. We don’t need to worry about a story for the Raiders, because without Gavin, there is no undercover case.”

  Blinking several times, I tried to process his words. “You’re shutting down the mission?”

  “Just the undercover aspect. We’re still going to monitor the Raiders and do the best we can with what we have on the outside, as well as the work you two have done so far.”

  I jerked my hand away from his. “Are you fucking kidding me? Gavin hasn’t been dead twenty-four hours, and you and the bureau are already shutting down the case!”

  “It’s nothing personal against Gavin. This is just how things are done. Undercover operations cost us money every second, and money talks.” After crossing his arms over his chest, he added, “Deep down, you know that.”

  Even though what Peterson said was the truth, rage still boiled within me. It wasn’t as if the bureau had nine-to-five hours, and that meant that cases were decided on in the midnight hour just the same as they were in the light of day. Of course, when you lost an agent in the field, it often meant things were expedited.

  “There’s still work to be done on the inside with the Raiders, especially after what happened tonight,” I countered.

  “While I might agree, there is no way to get another agent trained and inside, least of all to find one who could gain the Raiders’ trust like Gavin.”

  “I’m on the inside.”

  Peterson’s eyes widened before he ran his hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Look, you’ve been through a devastating trauma tonight. There’s no reason why we need to be discussing this now. Take a week or two off to get your head on straight. Go back to Massachusetts with Gavin’s parents for the funeral.”

  I gave an angry shake of my head. “Don’t dismiss me as incapable of taking down the Raiders just because I don’t have a dick.”

  A low growl came from Peterson. “You need to step back, get your head out of your ass, and really think for a moment.”

  “I am thinking. I’m wondering how you and the bureau can let all of Gavin’s hard work for the last two months go to waste when I can do this.”

  “Pardon me for saying that it’s not us who is dismissing you for not having a dick; it would be the Raiders. You won’t get shit from any of them, even Bishop. You weren’t some patched member’s old lady. You were just a hang-around’s girlfriend. It’s a big fucking difference.” When I started to argue, he held up his hand. “Don’t think for a minute we would risk your life for what information it might bring. Especially not after losing Gavin.”

  I controlled the volatile anger pulsing through me by sucking in a few deep breaths and exhaling them. Peterson eyed me as if he knew I was doing everything within my power not to go off on him. When I was finally able to speak again without losing my shit, I said, “I know Bishop better than you do—he will talk to me. It can still work.”

  Peterson shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Vargas. The case is closed.”

  “You’re the lead agent. You could reopen it.”

  “How quickly you forget that we all answer to somebody. The higher-ups would have my ass if I tried to reopen the case by sending you in.”

  With my anger rising again, I flicked the empty coffee cup with the back of my hand. It went sailing over the edge of the table. After it landed on the floor, I looked Peterson in the eye again. “I won’t give this up. I can’t. I have to find justice for Gavin.” When Peterson opened his mouth to argue, I shook my head. “It’s not just about Gavin. This case with the Raiders isn’t so black-and-white anymore. They were attacked today after an important meeting this morning. I have to find out the truth.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Peterson sighed. “You’re a grown woman with your own mind, and after living with my wife and two daughters, I know I can’t tell you what to do. But hear me when I say that whatever craziness you have running through your mind right now isn’t going to work. No matter how much you want to honor Gavin’s life, you won’t do it if you end up blowing your career, or worse, if you end up dead.”

  “What I do off the record is of no concern to the bureau,” I countered.

  “It is if it interferes with a mission.”

  “The case is closed—you said so yourself.”

  “No, the undercover aspect is closed. We will still be monitoring and collecting evidence on the Raiders.” Peterson leaned forward to place his hand on my shoulder. “Once again, I have to ask you to forget whatever plans you’re concocting in your head. You have a bright future at the ATF, Vargas. I want to be able to promote you in a year or two. The last thing I want to do is stand beside you as you clean out your desk because you’ve been fired.” He grimaced painfully. “Or worse, to stand beside your casket.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I demanded, “How many times are you going to give me the fired-or-dead scenario?”

  “As many as it takes to get it through your thick skull,” Peterson growled.

  I had opened my mouth to argue some more when the door opened. An agent I’d never seen before poked his head in. “The McTavishes’ flight is about thirty minutes out. We have a car waiting to take you to meet them.”

  “Thank you, Agent Sunderland.”

  After nodding, Agent Sunderland closed the door.

  “Would you like to come with me?”

  Seeing Gavin’s grief-stricken parents was the last thing I wanted to do. On the other hand, my only other option was to sit alone in the room with my thoughts. With a humorless smile, I asked, “You got anything left in that flask to help fortify me for the trip?”

  “If I don’t, we can make a pit stop.”

  My eyebrows rose in surprise. “What would the bureau think about that one?”

  Peterson rose out of his chair and offered me his hand. “On this one occasion, I would tell them to fuck off.”

  I couldn’t help being surprised when a laugh escaped my lips. “I never imagined you to be a rebel.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  After momentarily weighing his words, I slipped my hand into his. “Yes. I do believe they do.”

  NINE

  BISHOP

  Hours turned into days and then the days into a week. It was as if all record of Marley vanished the night he was killed. All the contact numbers the garage had on file were disconnected. The apartment complex where he was supposed to live had no idea who I was talking about when I went by there. There was no obituary in the paper, nor was he listed at any of the local funeral homes. I didn’t know Samantha’s number, or I would have tried her. It was the strangest fucking thing I had ever seen or heard of.

  It was hell not being able to be a part of his funeral. Of course, as a hang-around, he wouldn’t have been afforded any Raiders’ burial rites. But at the same time, I wanted my chance to say good-bye. More than anything, I wanted to be able to tell him that I was sorry.

  That was the God’s honest truth—the feeling of dread kept me up at night. I was really fucking sorry. I was
sorry that I invited him on the run when I should have known it could be dangerous. I was sorry that I hadn’t been able to protect him better that day. More than anything, I was sorry I ever mentioned anything to him about the Raiders. It wasn’t just that Marley would have been a whole lot fucking better off if he had never met me—he would have been alive.

  Besides searching for Marley, that first week after the funeral was spent in mourning for the fallen Raiders. Funerals were spread out so all the chapters could attend. East Tennessee had lost two guys; North Carolina had lost a guy and another member’s old lady. The funeral that haunted me the most and sent me into a drunken stupor was Alabama’s, where we attended one for a member’s twelve-year-old son.

  Among the grief and guilt, the need for revenge plagued us. While Rev wanted to put together the pieces for a legitimate case to send the murdering fuckers to rot in prison, the other chapters wouldn’t hear of it. They set out to take care of it with the old vigilante justice that we had once taken part in as well. Part of me wanted to get involved, thinking that if I could have the killers’ blood on my hands, then I could somehow atone for what had happened with Marley.

  Oh yeah, I felt nothing but guilt twenty-four/seven, and it was fucking eating me alive. To make matters worse, the usual methods of coping weren’t helping. I’d banged two new girls who had been hanging around the clubhouse, but it still didn’t get Marley off my mind. Even after I knocked out my opponent in the third round, the usual Friday-night fight did nothing for me, either. Finally, I’d turned my attention to working nonstop. As if by keeping my mind on transmissions and carburetors, I would somehow not go crazy.

  I was lying on a creeper underneath a classic Impala when I felt someone nudge my leg. I slid out to see my boss standing over me with a concerned frown. “Something wrong, Rick?”

  He scratched the back of his neck and shifted the wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth. “I think you need to shove off for today.”

  “I was gonna finish this one up.”

  Rick shook his head. “I usually don’t complain when one of my workers is busting his ass, but in this case, I think you need to head home. Have a beer and get some tail.”

  After fighting the urge to throw my wrench at Rick in frustration, I hopped to my feet. “I just wanted to help. We’re short now because of . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say Marley’s name.

  “That may be true, but if you keep overworking yourself, my ass will really be in a bind when you’re laid in up in bed with a torn muscle or the flu.”

  I knew when I was beat, so I dropped my wrench in the toolbox. “Fine. But I’m still coming in at seven in the morning.”

  Rick grinned. “Stubborn ass.”

  I gave him a pat on the back before starting down the hallway to the bathroom. From my fingers to my elbows, my arms looked like a typical grease monkey’s. Taking the already-blackened bar of soap, I began scrubbing my hands and arms. The more I thought of Marley, the more furious my movements became, to where I was practically clawing marks on my skin.

  I whirled around at the sound of a voice behind me. My heart stopped and restarted at the sight of Sam standing in the bathroom doorway. Seeing her sent my mind on a trippy flashback of the night Marley was killed. I remembered her tears, the way she had cradled Marley’s body, the way his blood stained her clothes. But the image that stayed with me the most was the look of undiluted hate she had given me when cradling Marley’s body. I had to blink to clear my mind of the image.

  There was so much to say, but instead, I could only stare at her.

  Part of me expected her to vanish into thin air just as Marley had. It had been only a week since I saw her last, but everything was different about her. Her dark eyes, which were usually so expressive, were dull and hollow and ringed with circles. The jeans she usually filled out were visibly looser—another sign of how her emotional pain was wrecking her physically.

  Finally, she broke the tense silence. “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Hey,” I grunted. Although part of me was glad as hell to see her, I couldn’t hide the animosity that was boiling within me.

  She took a step back. “Sorry to interrupt. Rick said I would find you back here.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” I demanded.

  Her dark eyes widened in surprise at both my tone and my question. “Yeah, about that. Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t call. It’s been—”

  I sliced one of my hands in the air, silencing her. “You’re sorry? Marley’s been dead over a week, and during that time, you didn’t think one fucking time that you might oughta call and let me know how things were going?”

  Sam’s remorseful expression darkened. “What the fuck, Bishop? I just lost my boyfriend.”

  With a mirthless laugh, I said, “I mean, I get that you’re pissed at me for what happened, but it seems to me it’s pretty cut-and-dried to reach out to a man’s friend when he dies.” I shrugged. “But I guess it’s only complicated to a coldhearted bitch.”

  Anger replaced the sadness in Sam’s eyes as she stalked toward me. “How dare you say that to me!”

  “Just calling it as I see it, darlin’.”

  “You ignorant bastard. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the last week?”

  “No, actually, I don’t, but I’m sure I might’ve had a clue if you. Had. Fucking. Called me!”

  She shook her head so fast I was sure she was going to get whiplash. “And just how the fuck was I supposed to do that when I didn’t have your number? I came here to try to explain things to you, but you’re too pigheaded to see anything beyond yourself. Poor pitiful Bishop!”

  When she started to turn away, I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Oh no, you’re not leaving. Not until you explain what the hell happened to Marley after the ambulance left.”

  She jerked her chin at the sink. “Finish cleaning up and then meet me at the bar across the street.”

  Standing toe-to-toe with her, I growled, “Woman, you gotta lot of fucking nerve ordering me around.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Just do it.” She then tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and walked out of the bathroom.

  “What the fuck?” I muttered.

  After rinsing off my hands with record speed, I hustled out of the garage. As I climbed onto my bike, I couldn’t believe Sam had just told me to meet her at Tucker’s. I didn’t know if Marley had ever told her that was where we went sometimes after work to unwind.

  Just before I entered Tucker’s, I slid on my cut. Although I didn’t want any club affiliation at work, I didn’t know what I might find inside. While I might’ve thrown back a beer or two with Marley, I was hardly a regular, so I wanted to set the tone just in case.

  When I entered the room, I searched for Samantha. Part of me had worried that my grief and guilt had driven me so insane that I had hallucinated seeing her back at the garage. But thankfully, I spotted her sitting at a table with a pitcher of beer and two glasses.

  I eased down in the chair across from her. While her eyes flared slightly at the sight of my cut, she didn’t say anything about it. “Hope Bud on tap is okay,” she said.

  With a nod, I said, “That’s what Marley and I always had when we came here.”

  Her expression turned sad. “Yeah, he told me.” She slid her mug of beer back and forth between her hands. “I really am sorry that I haven’t called you, Bishop. The only excuse I can give you is it has been a really hard week for me.”

  Although I was still pissed about what had gone down, I found that I couldn’t look her in the eye. I felt like too much of an asshole for the way I had acted at the garage. For fuck’s sake, who did I think I was? Hell, Marley was just a friend I’d known for a few months. He was her boyfriend.

  After downing a few sips of beer, I said, “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I acted like a real bastard.”

  When I dared to look up, Sam gave me a small smile. “While I won’t argue with you about that, I do
appreciate the apology.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Sam took a sip a beer. “The truth is that while I might’ve been Marley’s girlfriend, I wasn’t his blood family or next of kin. That was made really clear to me when we got to the hospital. I had no say over what happened to him. The next morning his parents came down and took his body back home.”

  “Where was home?”

  “Michigan or Milwaukee.” She shrugged. “Marley never really said. He didn’t care for his family that much.”

  I realized that he’d never told me exactly where he was from, either. I think his answer had been a cryptic “around.”

  “You didn’t go back for the funeral?”

  “As much as I wanted to be able to say good-bye, I really couldn’t afford to travel or be away from work.” With a sheepish expression, she added, “Besides, I really wasn’t welcome. His parents never liked me.”

  “That fucking blows.”

  “Yeah, it does,” she said, and then gulped down several sips of beer. “In the end, I know how I felt about him and how he felt about me. Standing over his grave and throwing roses onto his casket wouldn’t change that. You know?”

  Although I nodded, I still wanted that closure. Even if there was no way in hell he could hear me, I wanted to be able to say the things to Marley that would clear my conscience. But as I glanced across the table, I realized that I still had a chance to make things right. “There’s something I really need to say to you.”

  “Oh?”

  I nodded and then proceeded to drain the rest of my beer. After swiping the back of my mouth with my hand, I stared into Sam’s dark eyes. All the guilt over Marley that I had been feeling the last week bubbled to the surface, and I began speaking it out loud. I talked about Preacher Man’s murder and then Case’s. When I finished, I rubbed the stubble on my chin and shook my head. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

  “Because I’m a woman or because you’re not used to talking about your feelings to anyone outside the MC?”