Blood in the Water (Kairos)

by Catherine Johnson

  The shadows had lengthened and were beginning to merge into the twilight. Ashleigh was bone weary. Finding a bed that she could collapse into was high on her agenda, finding the person she wanted to join her in it wasn’t far behind. That person had obviously been looking out for their return. Paul pulled her into a tight embrace before she’d even made it halfway across the gravel.

  She almost melted against him, happy to draw from his strength after the emotional onslaught of the day. “Hey, beauty. You hungry? I think these animals might’ve left a few scraps.”

  “No. I’m good.”

  “Really? You don’t look it.” He tipped her chin up to better see her face; concern was evident in his features.

  “Thanks.” She cut him off before he could protest his innocence. “No, I know. It’s been a hard day. Some of the folk were lovely, despite what they’re goin’ through, but some of them were outright hatin’ on us. It’s always been the same, but it never gets any better bein’ on the receivin’ end. I can’t even blame them, really. And I just feel so useless. All that loss and there’s not a fuckin’ thing I can do about it.”

  “You’re doin’ as much as you can, beauty.”

  “I can’t bring those people back. I can’t make their families whole again.”

  “I know, beauty. I know.” He pulled her tighter against his body. Ashleigh held him close, happy for the world to stay beyond the circle of his arms for the moment.

  “You’ll feel better if you eat.”

  She sighed. “I really can’t face anythin’ at the moment.”

  “If you’re sure. You wanna get out of here?”

  “What’ve you got in mind?” She asked, looking up.

  They were reasonably alone in the middle of the gravel, most people had congregated closer to the grill and the clubhouse; but Paul still dropped his voice low. She could feel the rumble of it through his chest. She could have sworn that his eyes got darker.

  “I was thinkin’ that we could head on back to mine. That maybe I’d run us a bath and you can soak some of those blues off. I’ll even scrub your back. Then I was thinkin’ that I’d like to get you in my bed, maybe bury my face in your pussy ‘til you can’t stand it. Then, if you’re still okay with all of this, I want to fuck you, fill you with my cock ‘til you scream. I might even let you catch a nap before we do it all over again.”

  She had to remember to breathe, air was required for speaking and her lungs were empty of it. She drew in a shuddering breath and let it out. “Yeah. Let’s do that. That’s a good plan.”

  “You got work tomorrow. You want to ride with me or do you need your car?”

  She very much wanted to ride with him, very much; but he was right, she needed her car at his house if she was to have any hope of getting to work on time.

  “I need to drive.” He laughed at her disappointment; she felt it roll through him.

  “Don’t worry, beauty. We’ll make time for a ride soon.”

  He kissed her, somehow managing to be both soft and deep at the same time. By the time they came up for air, Ashleigh wasn’t so bothered about getting to his house or his bed, she’d have been quite happy to let him fuck her on the gravel. Until Chiz let out a piercing wolf whistle and she remembered that they had an audience.

  They were halfway to Paul’s house before she realized she hadn’t even so much as waved at anyone at the clubhouse. Oh well, she had more pressing matters to attend to. Paul beat her to his house. She parked and had just finished locking the car when he swept her up into his arms, making her squeal with delighted surprise. They were both laughing as he carried her into his house and then he set about making good on all his promises.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ashleigh was simultaneously the only reason that had Paul had slept at all this past week, and the main cause of his insomnia. Fear had ridden him hard in a way that he wasn’t accustomed. The Mexicans could pop up again at any time, and there had been Spike’s threat to take into account. He had gained no further ground figuring out how to extricate himself from the whole goddamn mess. The only solace was that he had been able to keep her relatively close. She’d spent so much time at his house that she had all but moved in.

  When he stopped to take stock of the level of his fear, that brought a rush of anxiety from a different source. He was in deep, very deep, too deep with this woman. He couldn’t even contemplate giving her up, even to keep her safe. The noble thing to would be to fall on his sword, to break it off with Ashleigh and return to the Rabid Dogs to tell Jimmy that he couldn’t do it. He’d die, but even that wouldn’t guarantee Ashleigh’s safety. Certainly her father would still have a bounty on his head. There had to be a way, somehow. These people had shown him family, future, love; things he’d thought he’d never want in this way, had never expected to have, but now he didn’t want to live without them.

  His mind was a mess of knotted thoughts as he took his place at the table for the Priests’ weekly meeting. Samuel opened the meeting with his customary three raps of the gavel. The room was soon quiet.

  “Right, brothers. Let’s update. I spoke to the Administrator at St Raphael’s this afternoon. As you know, Morse is now missin’ a chunk of his right lung. I expect you all to be thinkin’ hard about some suitable ways to make him smile about that. They took that chest drain tube thing out today. They’re letting him loose in a couple of days as long his breathin’ continues okay. He’s gonna need to come to the clubhouse to recuperate after that. He’s goin’ to need help, so bein’ on his own in that apartment of his is no good. We’re the only family that boy’s got, so we’re takin’ care of him. He should be on form again in a few weeks and like new in a few months.”

  Terry took up where Samuel had left off. “Moira and Dolly’re collectin’ Fletch tomorrow. He’s goin’ to be stayin’ here, too, rather than limpin’ around his place on his own.”

  “Christ, the girls’re gonna be too tired to speak lookin’ after the two of them all day every day.” Crash grumbled.

  “Yeah, ‘cause you take ‘em back to your dorm for their stimulatin’ conversation!” Dean’s quip started a loud wave of laughter all around the table.

  When it had calmed a little, Samuel picked up again. “And while we’re doin’ our own episode of ER, lets have a round of applause for Chiz’s leg, out of plaster at last.”

  There was an enthusiastic round of applause and catcalls. Chiz joined in with everyone else. Paul had driven him to the appointment to have it removed, and his friend had been euphoric to finally have the cast off, even if his leg seemed about half the size of his other.

  “Got some physical therapy to do, need to build it back up before I can ride, but I’m rarin’ to be back in the saddle as soon as, boss.” Chiz affirmed once the laughter had quieted again.

  “Well don’t overdo it and put yourself back, but it’ll be good to have you back on the road, brother.” More applause and calls of encouragement and derision followed.

  When it died down, Dean leaned forward to ask, “Has Chief Hooper pulled the bug from his ass yet?”

  Terry answered. “No I don’t think he has. He’s pissed that they can’t find anythin’ to link the shootin’ to us. Everythin’ they have is circumstantial. Eyewitnesses reported men on bikes that weren’t Harleys. No one got a visual on any faces. They found damn near a hundred bullets and did all their CSI bullshit on them, but they’re not showin’ up on any databases. That’s all Olly Manford could give us.”

  Samuel spoke again. “Now onto other business. Eduardo wants the chance to say ‘Hi’ personally. He’s goin’ to meet us after the drop tomorrow. I know how some of you feel about this, but it’s gonna need Terry and me on the run.”

  Dizzy stayed silent, but Paul knew that he thought it was a bad idea to have both primary officers on the road for the run, he agreed with the SAA. It wasn’t just concern about the bad luck of them both being taken out by an accident; if they were caught it was serious prison time and neither one
would have any case to fight or a chance of staying out from behind bars. That scenario could easily cripple the club.

  Samuel continued. “Diz, Paul, Dean; you’re with us. Kong, Chiz, Tag, Crash, Sinatra. You’re guarding the homestead.

  “We’re gonna be setting off at first light. This truck’ll be driving though the night and keepin’ on going to Florida. This guy has a system for missin’ traffic that has him sleepin’ in the afternoon and drivin’ through the night. Personally I think it’s bullshit, but I ain’t drivin’ the truck, so we’re doin’ a rollin’ handover, and we should be in Florida for lunch. Any of you worried about missin’ out on ‘conversation’ with the girls, best get out there and have a little chat with ‘em.”

  ~o0o~

  The five men from the Priests waited patiently by the side of the highway, watching for the truck and listening for the sound of a number of Harleys. Traffic was light so early in the morning, mainly just big rigs thundering past. It wasn’t long before they spotted the one they were waiting for, announced by the growl of the bikes following it. The Rabid Dogs were maintaining a fair distance behind the truck. It was easy to keep sight of on the empty road, and there was an image to maintain of a number of brothers just out for a ride while they had the road to themselves.

  As the riders from the Rabid Dogs passed the waiting group, the Priests rolled off the shoulder onto the highway. When they came to the next exit, the riders from the Rabid Dogs peeled off with backwards salutes. The run was easy, a little boring even, with just the truck to keep in sight and no opportunities for racing or fooling around so that they didn’t attract the attention of any squatting cruisers.

  Samuel had been right; they made it to the drop point in Florida by midday. The transfer of the people and packages from the rig to the vehicle that was going to take them north went smoothly. If anything, the ease and simplicity of the day had everyone’s hackles up higher than usual. It would have been easy to fall into a casual stupor after such an uneventful ride, but the adrenaline level ran higher than usual all round. Meeting with their representative from the Dias family put two links in the chain in the same place at the same time, increasing the risk substantially. Eduardo had obviously had this in mind, because he had requested the meet to take place away from the exchange point.

  Samuel led the group to the parking lot of a mid-size mall. As far as Paul could tell there was no standout reason for the meet to be held here over anywhere else. A Lincoln Navigator was waiting in the middle of a patch of empty spaces at the edge of the parking lot, pretty much the furthest walking distance from the mall entrance. The black paint job made it look ominous, standing alone surrounded by cars in much lighter shades such as silver, red, white and blue. Tinted windows prevented Paul from seeing who else was inside apart from the driver. There didn’t appear to be a passenger in the front seat. They parked a few spots down, giving themselves some space between them and the SUV. As they cut their engines, one of the rear doors opened and a man stepped out. Paul noticed that Samuel didn’t relax until the man was fully visible.

  The man walking away from the car looked to be a little younger than Samuel, but that could have been because his carefully styled hair was still jet black, as was the extremely neatly trimmed beard. It wasn’t a goatee, but it didn’t cover his cheeks. His tanned skin was etched with a few lines of concern, but it was clear that this man worked behind a desk and not out in the open air. His suit was sharp, and he was fastening the jacket as he walked as if out of habit. Overall the impression was of money and power and grooming; but it was the shrewdness in his eyes that would be the thing that intimidated people.

  “Hello, Sam.” There was a definite accent, not thick, but there nonetheless.

  Samuel dismounted his bike, removed his helmets and pulled off his riding gloves. “Eduardo. How goes it?”

  They met in the space between the bikes and the car. Eduardo smiled as they shook hands. “It’s a bumpy road, ese. This isn’t an easy business we’re in.”

  “I hear that. I do hear that. You got any news on our friends over the border?”

  Paul couldn’t see any tension between the two men, but the setup itself wasn’t relaxed, with the riders and the unquantified vehicle essentially facing off against each other, watching, waiting.

  “We went on a mission to clean house. It wasn’t just the shooting, ese. That day, they dumped the bodies of two of my men by the border. I don’t know how they did it, but they boiled them whole like lobsters. They were still alive when it happened; there was water in what was left of their lungs. We are going to annihilate them, ese, but things might still be hard for you until then.”

  Paul filed that little tidbit away for later. Now was not the time or the place to be figuring out the logistics for boiling a full-sized human. He wondered whether they’d put them in boiling water, or somehow put them in water and gradually turned the heat up. Then he caught himself and set his mind back to the job at hand.

  “Anythin’ we can do to help?”

  “Just keep our merchandise moving. Keep our business going.”

  “Will do. You’ll let us know if you hear of anythin’ specific comin’ our way?”

  Thunder rolled through the humid air. The sky had been steadily darkening all afternoon.

  “Of course, ese. I would say you need to watch your backs like you’re wearing a target from now until we know better.”

  “Thank you. You watch your back, too. We been doin’ this a long time, Eduardo. I’d hate for you to get careless now.”

  “No chance, ese. I don’t like to lose, you know that.”

  “I do. It was good to see you.”

  “You too, ese. I hope to see you again in the future. It’s nice to remind ourselves why we do business with each other. I hope your family is well. I don’t need to tell you to keep them safe.”

  The words caught Paul’s attention, but there was no malice behind them.

  “Likewise.”

  The men shook hands again, and Eduardo went back to the Navigator. Paul figured that either he had real trust for Samuel, turning his back like that on five riders that he knew were armed, or that there was something behind those blacked out windows that he knew would keep him safe. Given the reputation of the Columbians and Mexicans he wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a freaking rocket launcher pointed at them from the back seat. Almost before Eduardo had pulled the door closed, the Navigator started to move and headed to the exit of the parking lot.

  Samuel turned to the group as he was replacing his helmet and gloves. “You heard the man, boys. Looks like we’re on the list until those Mexicans are toasted. I don’t like being so far away, ‘specially not after hearing that. I want to know how you boys feel about pushing to get back today. I don’t want to spend an hour longer away from home than I have to.”

  It was a no-brainer for Paul. He’d rather take the hard ride than be separated from Ashleigh for another twenty-four hours. She would be high on the list of possible targets for the Mexicans, and as much as he trusted his brothers, he wanted to be the one to keep her safe. He knew Ashleigh could shoot, of course her daddy had taught her. It was time for her to start carrying the little .22 Magnum that she usually kept in her nightstand drawer, the one in her apartment. It was doing fuck-all good there, since she’d only been home long enough to pick up fresh clothes all week.

  Terry, Dizzy and Dean were all in agreement with the plan to return early, too. Samuel pulled one glove off again as he located his phone. He called the clubhouse to let them know to expect them all back that day. Whoever had answered the call received strict instructions not to tell Moira about their premature arrival, as Samuel preferred to tackle her head-on rather than have his phone blow up with irate texts for the whole journey. Paul didn’t call Ashleigh; she would be at work probably wouldn’t have access to her phone.

  They set off for home as soon as Samuel was done with the call. Paul didn’t like the oppressive sky and he was hoping
they’d be able to outrun the coming storm. They seemed to stay on the edge of it all the way back, but it was definitely following them, almost chasing them down. Something was off, Paul didn’t know what, but the sixth sense that had saved his life more than once had the foghorns blaring. He kept a careful eye on the road and on every passing vehicle, but nothing untoward happened.

  Twilight fell early, thanks to the menacing, low clouds. They had crossed the state line, but were still a ways from the next town and the best part of half the state away from home. The road was clear of traffic all around them. It was almost eerie, with the trees and bushes forming an impenetrable wall on either side of the highway. After so long in the saddle, combined with the luminescent glow of the setting sun through the heavy clouds, Paul was beginning to get tunnel vision.