CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
As she tapped her pen on the desk and listened to the professor drone on and on about the correlation between the endocrine system and the pulmonary system, Ariana wondered when she would actually find the time – and the courage – to face her father. She had to go straight to work from class, and she got off too late to go to the hospital after work. Although…
That might be the answer. Ariana had a gut feeling her mother and sister wouldn’t spend the night at the hospital. They’d be gone, pampering themselves in the house and sleeping soundly while her father was likely in pain and feeling very alone. So what if it was after midnight? Being in the hospital meant you could sleep all day if you wanted. He could spend the nighttime with her, trying to make things right.
Suddenly, it sounded brilliant. And terrifying. With the rest of her family there, she had an excuse not to face the facts. She could stay away, avoid the reality of her father’s imminent death and not talk about painful things. If they weren’t around, she had to look at her father and see just how sick he really was.
She sighed, checking her watch. The class was supposed to end in ten minutes, but her professor sounded like he was just now getting to the grit of the discussion. She was exhausted, having not slept last night after Vince left, and she was ready to fall asleep at her desk. She also couldn’t be late for work and give her peers more reason to think less of her. The minute the first student stood to leave, she’d be out the door.
Luckily, it seemed her professor had previous commitments as well, and he dismissed them. She rushed out and pushed past others to get to her car and head to the station. She needed a few minutes to try to clear her head before she tried to care for anyone else.
Aside from her father’s health issues, Ariana couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the previous night with Vince. She’d gone over the conversation they’d had more times than she could count before she’d finally fallen asleep last night, and she still wasn’t sure what to think. What she had determined at this point was that it had started with an argument and ended in comfort. His arms felt good around her, and his soothing words comforted her more than she could ever have imagined.
No one in her entire life had made her feel so secure, not even her parents. Especially not her parents. And she’d always been such a private person that she’d never come so close to crying in front of anyone before. Last night, she’d swallowed her tears, but the evidence of how close she came had been written on her face, even after he left. He had to have seen it.
But she wasn’t embarrassed. He hadn’t thought less of her or shut her out. He’d actually drawn her in. Something had changed last night. They’d shared painful information, personal struggles, and they’d had a moment. Ariana felt they had gone beyond just a sexual relationship last night. Talking and having emotional outbursts drew them out of the category of friends with benefits and deeper, into something far closer to true intimacy.
Now she groaned. She’d been the one to admit she had feelings for him. The night before, she’d told herself that she’d just been speaking out of fear and duress, but today, she knew better—her admission had been real. She was starting to care for Vince, even though she still knew practically nothing about him.
Ariana could count on one hand the things she knew. He was a hard-ass on a motorcycle who was fiercely loyal to all his hard-ass friends on motorcycles. He was still messed up emotionally from losing his wife so violently and suddenly, and it affected the way he acted toward others. He played hard and fast because he was full of passion in many areas of his life. And he was also tender and warm, and he needed the same in return from someone in his life who cared about him.
When did I decide to be that person? She scowled. Maybe it was her need to save people. That’s why she’d become a paramedic and why she wanted to be a surgeon. Was she taking Vince on as a project, something to be healed or fixed? It was possible, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt real, more so than anything she’d ever felt toward a man.
The question was, would this develop into something more? That depended on Vince. He seemed to be capable of emotions, and if he had been loyal to his club for as long as he said, he didn’t particularly have commitment issues. And if Ariana really wanted to read into things, she would think that last night was a sign he returned her feelings.
Don’t be stupid, she chastised herself. Just because some misguided part of her wanted it to be true didn’t mean it was. She parked the car at the station and grabbed her gym bag. She typically preferred to shower at home in the mornings, but she hadn’t had time today and really didn’t want to be alone.
Sal was in the kitchen, stirring up some microwaved leftovers. “Hey Ariana!” he called as she walked past.
She waved back. “Hey, partner. I’ll be out in a flash.” She disappeared behind the walls of the women’s locker room and started to strip as she threw down the bag in front of one of the shower stalls. One good thing about showering here was the instant hot water. In her apartment, there were times she waited five minutes to get it heated properly. She didn’t revel in the massage of the rough spray today, hurrying to get clean and get out. Today was a day to stay busy and keep her internal musings at bay.
She donned her uniform quickly, combed out her hair, and pulled it back, still wet, into a ponytail. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. She squared her shoulders and faced her reflection. “You are a strong woman, and you can handle anything this world throws at you.” Her reflection stared back at her. Yeah, right. But she was determined, and she threw the gym bag in her locker and strode out into the crowd of firemen and EMTs as if she had every ounce of confidence in the world.
Maybe if she played that part for the next ten hours or so, she’d still feel self-assured when she made it to her father’s hospital room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Vince didn’t stay home long, only frustrating himself in his attempt to find a better way to deal with the Demons. Instead, he called Pound and asked him if they could meet at the casino on the reservation. An hour later, they left their bikes at the far end of the giant parking lot and headed toward the opulent entrance of Aeros Casino.
“Why are we here, Larson?” Pound asked. He spit a large, black mass onto the sidewalk, and Vince smacked him in the gut.
“Get rid of the chew. It’s disgusting.” Vince threw his cigarette aside. Hypocrite. “We’re talking to Takoda.”
Pound’s expression darkened. “Why are we talking to Takoda? Last time we were here, he threw us out.”
“Last time we were here, Cyril was drunk off his ass. That’s why we got tossed,” Vince reminded him. “We’ve got to funnel a ton of money, Pound. This is the largest business on our payroll. We can probably shove at least a quarter of our bills to Takoda. I need to make sure he’s on board.”
“You’re also looking for more guns, aren’t you?”
The question made Vince scowl. “I thought about it. We’re screwed right now, man. We can’t get our hands on anything the Kingsmen can provide until we’ve already tamed the beast. The Demons need a loss, so they’ll stay out of our way until we can get ourselves armed. That means we need to do whatever we can to protect ourselves.”
The tribe didn’t carry a ton of firepower, but they had enough to supplement the Claws’ arms temporarily. He could offer a nice little trade – upping the percent of the tribe’s take from the business in exchange for some weapons. He hadn’t asked Cyril, and that would eventually come back to bite him in the ass, but it was the best choice for the club at this moment.
After this, he’d hit Broke Luck Pawn and talk to Larry, the owner. They could work with him to get some of the guns on hand loaned to them for a one-time fee, he was certain. Larry was a savvy businessman, always looking for a good deal. If he could grab an extra ten grand and still sell his guns, he’d be more than happy to help.
Vince waved at the door guard as they entered, and the man with long black ha
ir pulled into a loose braid and a suit nodded solemnly. They didn’t stop as they strode past lines of bright, blinking, chiming machines, and Vince thanked the powers that be for the smoking policies as he lit another cigarette. They went straight to the back, where the beautiful Dawn Runner ran the bar. He smiled at her, feeling out of character in her company; her skin was flawless, her shining black hair twisted up.
“Larson! I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her eyes twinkled. She’d been there when Cyril was carried out by two large guards and the rest of them were forced to follow. “How have things been?”
“Well, business is booming, and we’re on the edge of a killing. But I need to talk to Takoda about some things. Is he around?” He raised the bottle of Bud she passed to him and tossed a ten her way.
“I’m not so sure he wants to see you, Larson.” She winked at Pound. “You, though, can stay as long as you like.”
Pound blushed, and Vince rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dawn. Tell him what time to pick you up tonight, and get me Takoda.”
She laughed, deep and seductive, and looked Pound up and down. “Well, big man, if you want, you can come get me at about eight, and I’ll keep you company while Takoda goes on the rampage for my betrayal.”
Pound smiled sheepishly. “I just might do that.”
Dawn sighed happily. “Alright, Larson, follow me. You, too, Pound.” She came around the bar and led them through a door labeled ‘Employees Only’. They walked down a dimly lit hall toward an office at the end. The door was closed, and Dawn knocked lightly. “Visitors, Chief.”
A grunt came from inside, and Dawn backed away. “Good luck, boys. And I’ll see you tonight, Pound,” she added, smacking his ass as she walked away.
Vince turned the doorknob while Pound stared after her. “Don’t mention her sweet ass, okay?” he whispered and pushed the door open. He immediately made eye contact with Takoda, who sat behind a large oak desk with his blue-black hair spread around his shoulders. “Hello, Chief.”
“Vince Larson and Eugene McCray. What brings the two of you to my office?” His tone was gentle and curious. He didn’t move.
Pound remained standing, gritting his teeth at the sound of his real name, but Vince took a seat with a friendly grin. “I wanted to talk business with you for a minute, without the alcohol and attitude you encountered the last time we met.”
He grunted again. “Your chief has anger management issues, my friend. I appreciate your consideration in leaving him in his cage.”
Pound snorted, and Vince shook his head. If only we had a cage for him. “You deserve the respect.” He sat back and made himself comfortable. This wouldn’t be a thirty-second discussion. “We’ve managed to buy into some better business. We’ll be getting a bigger infusion of cash, in smaller bills, and you can’t tell the difference between these and government-issued cash.”
“I see.” Chief Takoda was a man of few words, until he knew exactly what was being discussed. Vince didn’t mind—it made his job easier.
“The problem is, our printer who has the stamps is in enemy territory, and our rivals are not very happy with our extension of business into their area. They’re a threat to our club and our business, which also poses a threat to your flow of income. I thought we could work out a few details that would keep all of our investments safe.”
The chief nodded, a sign to go on. “I’d like to offer you a raise,” Vince said. “Right now, your take is five percent of about $200,000 a month. I’d like to make that $500,000 a month and increase your take to eight percent.”
Takoda pressed his hands together in a steeple in front of his face. “That is quite a large increase, my friend. Our public monthly income can more than compensate the amount. But it would be a big risk.”
“It would,” Vince agreed. “It would be a bigger risk if the Demons decided to come after our business associates to try to put a stop to our profits.”
“You ask for more than laundering.”
“We need weapons,” Vince admitted. “The Pale Demons are going to try to hit us on home turf, and we don’t have the men or the guns to hold them off until we can get better equipped. I’ll double your take for the first month, if we can make use of a few of your men and some firearms.”
The chief grew silent, and for a minute, Vince thought he could hear all three heartbeats in the room. “This is a precarious situation you put me in, Vince Larson. We don’t like getting involved with the white man’s personal business. Money is one thing. War is another. But you make a point about protecting our business. It is also difficult to deny the benefits of the additional income you offer.”
At least he hadn’t shut Vince down right off the bat. Vince waited while Takoda stared at some distant spot behind Pound’s shoulder. This would make a huge difference in their ability to face the Demons and not take too big a hit. After thinking for a long time, the chief met his gaze with his black marble eyes.
“Vince Larson, I will accept your business prospect. And in order to assure my people are safe and the business you bring are not compromised, I will send eight of my men with weapons to your clubhouse tonight. They will stay until these personal issues are resolved, but no longer than one week. They have families, and I do not wish for them to be gone long.”
A wave of relief washed over Vince. It was no guarantee that someone wouldn’t die, but he knew Takoda would only send men who were excellent shots, more snipers than soldiers. “I’m grateful for your assistance.” Vince stood and offered the chief a bow of respect and thanks, and he saw Pound’s shadow move as he did the same. “I’ll make sure your men are as safe as possible, and we’ll keep them fed and well cared for until their return.”
He turned to leave the room. “Vince Larson?” Takoda called. Vince stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned in question. “Do not drag innocent people into your war. But take care of yourself and those who keep you balanced.”
The words hit him in the chest with the force of a bullet, and Vince inhaled sharply. “Yes, sir.” He hurried out of the office, uncomfortable with the chief’s insight.
“What was that about?” Pound asked, having to rush to keep up with Vince, even with his long stride.
“I don’t know,” Vince answered. His voice was sharp, his mood dark. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Cyril’s going to have something to say about this.” Pound reached into his pocket as they burst back into the daylight and pulled out a hunk of chew. “I’m assuming you didn’t clear this with him.”
Vince used the end of his lit cigarette to fire up another. “He didn’t exactly clear offering us up as sacrifices with the rest of the club, either. If he’s so damned determined to take the Demons out, he can deal with the cost involved. It’s pennies in the bucket, compared to what we’ll bring in.”
They made it to the bikes, and Vince mounted his, with Pound standing beside him with a confused expression. “The printer doesn’t have all the stamps.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s got a couple of them.” Vince had known from the start that they were going about this all wrong. “He’s got to have an overseas contact. We find out who that is and cut out the middleman, we’ll make more and curb this thing with the Demons.”
Pound finally climbed onto his machine. “And how are we going to do that?”
Vince wasn’t sure yet. “I’ll find a way.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Refusing to go back to the casino, Vince sent Traunch with Pound to get Dawn. It was already getting dark, and it was time to start taking the necessary precautions. He wasn’t letting anyone ride alone until things settled down. He entered the clubhouse and found Pea sitting at the bar looking green. “What’s going on, Pea?”
Pea shook his head. “Man, it’s not good.” He tilted back a shot of something that smelled like rubbing alcohol, which made him appear as though he was going to projectile vomit at any moment. With a nasty burp, he said, “Right after the meeting, Cyril took Scat
and Kentucky down to Salem. They took one of your company trucks. Cyril was hell bent on grabbing the cash before the Demons decided to burn the shop to the ground.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” And people had the nerve to call Vince reckless. “Have you heard from them?”
“Nope,” Pea hiccupped. “If things worked out, they should be back within the hour. I tried to call you, but all I got was voicemail.”
Vince cursed. “I was on the reservation part of the time. I don’t get service there.” How many calls had he missed from how many people? He wondered if Ariana had called and was glad he hadn’t been able to answer. He needed her as far away from him as she could get at the moment. If she wasn’t facing the loss of her father, he’d make sure she got out of town before this turned into Tombstone and the OK Corral.
“Well, it’s too late to do anything now,” Pea told him. “We tried to stop him. Traunch and Dustin and even Raw stood with me. Cyril and Dustin almost got into it, and Cyril threatened to pull a gun on the old boy. He’s in the bunk room, beating himself up for not taking Cyril to the ground right then.”
SECRET BABY AT THE ALTAR Page 39
