True Blue Son (The Syndicate-Born Trilogy Book 3)

by K. M. Hodge

  Get up! Zane yelled at his legs to cooperate, but they had locked up on him again. He slithered forward and grabbed hold of the knife as Charles’ face turned purple. Zane found the strength to rise to his feet and hobble towards Scott with the knife held in his hand.

  Now or never!

  He grasped Scott by the hair, pulled his head back, and pressed the knife against Scott’s carotid artery.

  “Do it, kid,” Scott said. “Do it. Come on. Come on.”

  Zane’s breath came in short, uneven gasps and the knife shook in his hand.

  Scott let go of Charles and grasped hold of the knife, using his free hand to pull Zane forward and send him tumbling to the ground.

  “You’re not ready to sit at the adult table, son.” Scott rose to his feet with a self-satisfied look on his face. “But you’ve got balls for trying. I’ll give you that.”

  Zane scrambled to gain his footing and Scott grasped him by the arm, helping him up until they stood nose-to-nose. Zane stared into the coal-black eyes in front of him—no humanity existed in this man’s soul. He knew what he needed to do but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “Come on, kid, I know ya want to hit me. I’ll even hold my hands behind my back. Clock me one.”

  Zane grimaced in pain. “You’re crazy.”

  “And you’re a spineless mama’s boy. Your old man might have been a dick, but at least he fought like a man.” Scott staggered a little and grinned as if it the end result were a foregone conclusion. “Do you like to hit girls, too?”

  Zane clenched and unclenched his fists.

  “Come on, kid. Do it.”

  He swung his fist hard into Scott’s jaw, snapping his head back. “There. You happy now?”

  Scott laughed and swung back, hitting Zane with his powerful fist and knocking him back. “Yeah, do it again.”

  Zane looked over Scott’s shoulder and saw the old man getting to his feet.

  “Leave the kid alone!” Charles lunged and wrapped his arm around Scott’s neck, squeezing.

  Zane backed up, holding the railing for support, but his legs gave again and he collapsed.

  Scott kicked back at Charles and knocked him back, but the old man held tight, taking Scott down with him, and they fell to their sides. Scott wiggled to free himself, but Charles wrapped his arm tighter around the lunatic’s neck, pinning him down with his hefty body. Scott bit and scratched at Charles, but the old man didn’t lessen his hold.

  Zane watched in horror as Scott’s grip loosened and his body began to slacken. The glint in his coal-black eyes started to dim. He’d seen people die, hundreds of people, but never like this. The dying man didn’t disturb him half as much as the look of grim determination he saw in Charles as he did something Zane could never do—willfully take another life.

  Charles roared over the sound of the falls and continued to tighten his hold on his enemy’s neck. Scott went limp, but Charles continued to hold onto him like he wanted to be sure.

  “He’s dead!” Zane yelled over the water.

  Charles stood despite his injuries, and dragged the limp body over the railing.

  Zane watched as it disappeared into the foam and spray.

  Charles’ legs wobbled and he collapsed like a ton of bricks. Blood dripped from his body and down through the metal grating, permeating the air all around them.

  Zane knew he needed to get him to the hospital soon or he would die. Duty spurned him into action, despite the gnawing pain, and he crawled across the grating towards the dying man. He felt for a pulse and found a faint one.

  The old man looked up at Zane, but his eyes didn’t focus. Blood gurgled out of his mouth.

  Zane dug into his pocket for his wallet. He always carried one of his Nanobioresponders. But his wallet wasn’t there. It must have fallen out during his tussle with Scott.

  Charles moaned and sputtered.

  Zane scrambled for Charles’ watch.

  What’s the code again? He tried to remember the song, the one he would sing with Jude.

  “This is it,” Charles said, choking up blood that dotted his lips and chin.

  “Don’t say that.” Zane bounced up on his haunches.

  “I’m cold.” His eyes drooped.

  “You’re going into shock.”

  “You’re a good kid, Zane. Pollyannaish, but a good kid.”

  Zane reached into his back pocket, pulled out the bandana he kept there, and used it to dab up the blood as Charles started to slip into unconsciousness.

  “Hey, stay with me.” He touched the side of the man’s face.

  Charles stirred, looking drunk. “I loved her. Don’t know what happened.” He coughed, blood flying again from his mouth. “Why I did the things I did to her. I was always afraid she’d see right through me and leave. I guess I figured the only way she’d stay is if I forced her. So I did. Then it all went off the rails.”

  Charles blinked, causing red tears to slide down his cheeks. “She would have loved you.”

  “I think I would have liked her, too.” Zane continued dabbing up blood.

  “Your mother should have told him. It’s not right. A man should know these things.”

  “It doesn’t have to end like this. Just call for help.” Zane looked again at the watch.

  As he tried to conjure up the code once more, he felt the cold metal barrel of a gun touch the back of his head. His breath caught in his throat.

  “Stand real slow, lad.”

  “Henry?” Zane rose to his feet. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Step away from him.”

  He stood and backed away from Charles. “Please, Henry, don’t do this.”

  “Get outta here. I don’t want to have to kill you. I don’t. But I will.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought you were working for the good guys.”

  Henry chuckled. “There ain’t any good guys, lad, just the Virginia Blues and us street trash. It’s time for the street trash to run things. It’s business.”

  “What are you going to do... to me... to my mom?”

  “I’ve got no beef with you or your mother. You’re good people. Stay out of our way and we’ll leave you alone.”

  “What about the bounties on my mom’s head?”

  “Her slate’s clean. We’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. Just tell her to keep her nose out of Ocean City.”

  Zane’s body shook. He felt cold.

  I’m going into shock.

  If he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t be able to, but he needed to know. “That’s it?”

  “The hospital’s yours as long as you fix up my people—no questions.”

  Zane wet his lips and hugged his arms to his chest. “Okay.”

  “You need to leave now. There’s a car a mile down the road. Go.”

  Zane glanced down at Charles, who nodded and said, “Go, kid.”

  He didn’t need to be told again. He turned and hobbled his way across the bridge and far away from the war he never wanted anything to do with in the first place.

  “Zane! Wait! Can’t you hear me? Stop!” A hand shot out of the dark and grabbed his arm. “Stop!”

  He turned to face the voice, and his vision blurred. It took him a moment to recognize the face and the voice. The cop... the one Julie’s dad had dated.

  “What happened? Are you okay? Where’s Charles?”

  “Dead. All dead.”

  The cop’s face paled. “What do you mean, they’re dead? Did you kill them?”

  “There’s a car. It’s waiting for me. I need to go now. Shock. I need to get help.”

  Mari wrapped her arm around him and walked him out of the park and into the parking lot. Instead of taking him to the automated car, she put him in her police car. “Come on. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  He didn’t have it in him to argue with her. The hospital. He did need to go there. I guess it doesn’t matter how I get there. Unless that’s part of the deal with Henry. Did he say anything about
cops?

  “Danville. Take me to Danville.”

  “Memorial is closer. I’ll take you there.”

  “No,” Zane said, louder than he intended. “Take me to St. Rita’s.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  Zane sat down in the car and let his eyes slide closed. He couldn’t fight his exhaustion a minute longer.

  ***

  When he awoke, they were at the hospital. Someone provided a wheelchair and moved him into it. The harsh lights of the hospital emergency room made him squint. He blinked hard and his eyes watered.

  “Zane!”

  He looked ahead, but couldn’t make out the form coming towards him until she squatted just inches from his face.

  Julie.

  She touched his cheek, and he let his eyes slide closed again. He heard the two women talking.

  “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know,” the cop said. “I think he’s going into shock. I’m going to need to talk to him.”

  “Yeah, that’s gonna have to wait. I’ll come and get you when he’s ready to talk, but right now, he needs to be treated.”

  He faded in and out as he was wheeled through the double doors. When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find himself in a bed with his feet propped up and a pile of warm blankets covering him.

  “Hey there, sleepy head.” Julie stood over him, checking his pulse. “How are you feeling?”

  He sucked in a deep breath and took inventory of all his aches and pains. “Everything hurts.”

  “I bet.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze. She adjusted his medstation, and it didn’t take long for the medicine to kick in and his body to relax. “Do you think you’d be up for talking to the police? They need to take down your statement.”

  Zane lifted his arm to touch his face, but his wrist caught on something. He glanced down at the bedrail and then back up at Julie. “Why am I in handcuffs?”

  Julie cleared her throat and looked away. “I’ll let the detective talk to you about that.”

  She left the room, leaving him alone for a moment. What could he say, after all? No one could corroborate his statement; Henry wouldn’t vouch for him. A panic spread through his body like wildfire.

  After everything that’s happened, I shouldn’t be surprised, but isn’t that how it goes?

  The choices of two selfish men might result in him being put away for murders he hadn’t committed. He couldn’t pin it on Henry and risk his mother’s life, and odds were Charles had died on the bridge.

  The door to his room opened and the detective entered. “You look much better than the last time I saw you, Dr. Ride.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t really remember that,” he said.

  She closed the door. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Even with the pain meds, he hurt, but he couldn’t put this off. It certainly wouldn’t look good if he did. He didn’t do anything wrong, and had nothing to feel guilty about.

  He opened his eyes and met her gaze head on. “Sure.”

  She sat down on the chair beside his bed and crossed her legs. “Do you mind if I record this conversation?”

  He shifted on the bed and the cuff pulled on his wrist. He held up his arm as high as it would go. “Am I under arrest?”

  “I just need to ask you a few questions, and we’ll go on from there.”

  Zane wet his lips and took a deep breath. “Should I have a lawyer?”

  “Do you need a lawyer?”

  “Can you just be straight with me? It’s been a difficult couple of weeks. I’d appreciate some honesty. I’ve had enough game playing to last me a lifetime.”

  She nodded. “Okay, I can do that. But for legal reasons, I really need to record this conversation. It’s in your best interest to cooperate with me.”

  Zane’s eyes watered and his lip began to tremble. The weight of keeping in control all this time was just too much for him to bear right now. “Okay,” he said, choking on the words. He closed his eyes and his lashes soaked up his unshed tears.

  “Okay, could you please state your name for the record?”

  “Dr. Zander Ride, the unluckiest man alive.”

  “Dr. Ride, can you please tell me the nature of the relationship between you and Charles MacAvoy?”

  He choked out a sob. How could he explain something he didn’t quite get himself? How he felt a hollow loss—of walking away, of not fighting to save his life, of how he betrayed his oath for a man he’d only a met a few weeks ago.

  “Dr. Ride?” The detective placed a tissue in his hand not secured to the bed railing.

  He dabbed at his eyes and wadded up the used tissue in his fist. After another long moment, he opened his mouth and told her most of the truth. He told her how his mother had faked her own death and saved him from certain death at the hands of a psychopath. He told her how his mother and Charles had tried to bring down The Syndicate, how they’d poked the bear, and how he had become a prime target for the same psychopath. Then he told the cop about the plan to take Scott down once and for all. They were his words against the word of a ghost.

  “That’s quite a story, Dr. Ride. So you induced a heart attack in Mr. MacAvoy so that he might be taken to this hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  “A hospital that he gave you a prestigious position at? Where your mother received a kidney transplant?”

  Zane let out a rush of air. “If I had known the cost of the job, I never would have taken it. Not like he gave me a chance. He would have let my mom die!”

  She stared back at him with a quieted stare. “Did your mother know about all of this?”

  He wet his lips and looked away. “No.” His first lie to the detective.

  She gave nothing away.

  Even though she said nothing, he knew he was fucked. So he wasn’t surprised when she started reading him his rights.

  Chapter 19

  Richmond County Jail

  Richmond, Virginia

  August 20, 2026

  Noon

  ~~~

  Zane glanced up at the clock on the prison’s bathroom wall as he washed his hands. After several weeks in prison without any forward momentum in his favor, he was beginning to lose hope. The judge had ruled he couldn’t have outside visitation, and the loneliness alone wore on him. His only connection to the outside word was through his lawyer, Jude’s partner, Frank.

  “Hey, Ocean City!” A big bald man with tattoos covering his body shoved Zane hard up against the wall, making it hard for him to breathe. A handful of prisoners knew his mother and what she’d done to make money, and most of them would have liked nothing better than to mess him up. “Where are all your little friends?”

  Zane could hear the rustle of bodies moving closer behind him.

  “Drop him, Joe. He’s protected.”

  The rival, a member of another crime ring, released his hold on Zane, letting him catch his breath.

  The men behind him pressed forward, taking him along with them.

  He’d nearly died his first two days in prison. Beaten and stabbed, he’d spent the remainder of his first week in the infirmary.

  When he got out, the Ocean City men had found him. “Let’s call that a lesson you don’t want to get twice,” the leader had told him.

  Henry had offered him protection in exchange for his silence. If he talked or spoke out in any way against the group, he would be thrown to the wolves.

  So he’d played along. And the longer he stayed here, the better they treated him. Most of the men saw him as a hero for usurping the Virginia men. They believed Zane had killed them, and he hadn’t bothered to correct them.

  One of the men now pushing him forward placed something in his hand that felt like a smart watch. “The boss has a message for you.”

  Zane slipped the contraband into the pants pocket of his uniform until he could find a better place for it. If they caught him with t
he watch, he’d spend a week in the SHU—the men told him the solitary confinement was worse than death.

  As they walked en masse down the narrow hallway, a guard stepped in front to halt them. “Prisoner Ride, come with me. You have a visitor.”

  A prickle of nervousness spread over Zane like a rash. He kept his head down and followed the guard through the secured doors to a holding area, where he sat down at the table and waited—something he was getting good at.

  The door opened behind him and he turned to see his lawyer and the detective, the one who arrested him, walking into the room. The detective’s heels slapped against the cement floor, making his eardrums vibrate.

  “Hey, man, how ya been holding up?” His lawyer sat down beside him. “You don’t have to answer any of the detective’s questions, but I advise you that doing so would be in your best interest in this case.”

  “Great. Thanks.” The contraband watch in his pocket weighed heavily on him. He shifted his weight and shoved his hands into his pockets so it wouldn’t fall out, even though the posture made him look like some kind of thug. The detective placed an evidence bag on the table, and Zane leaned slightly forward to examine the contents—an MDNA watch.

  “Do you know what this is?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a standard issue MDNA communication device.”

  “Do you know how they work?”

  Zane shrugged his shoulders and stretched out his stiff legs. “No, not really.”

  “Besides being a two-way communication device, it also records things and blocks surveillance equipment. It’s waterproof and smash resistant. It’s quite remarkable, actually.”

  “I don’t imagine you came all this way to give me a science lesson. Can we just cut to the chase?”

  The detective pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. After a long pause, she cleared her throat and said, “One of the MDNA members has come forward to speak and share with me about how this device works. You see, this was found on Charles MacAvoy’s body.”

  Zane stiffened, holding his breath. His heart thundered in his chest and he coughed to slow his heart rate. “Oh?”