CHAPTER 10
I checked my watch as Slaughter rode off. I still had a few hours before having to head to the Triple Shot.
Gripper was coming out as I was coming in. He backed up and let me in, but stayed close. "How did that go?"
"He didn't cause any trouble, did he?"
The enforcer shook his head. "No, he was respectful. Almost felt like a real biker."
"Give them a chance. Give him a chance. He told me Ace went missing. The club is in his hands now."
Gripper flexed his muscles. "We gave him a chance, and he acted well."
I laughed. "Well, there were five of you."
The bouncer shook his head. "Numbers don't matter when it's about honor."
I felt the truth of it stir deep within me. I had helped Flats against the Surenos. Outnumbered, we had fought without fear or hesitation. I said, "You're right."
He winked at me. I thought that was odd, but what did I know of the Iron Crows? I was just a hang-around. He said, "You'll be at the Triple Shot at seven?"
I sighed. "Yeah, I'll be there." Stupid bash for Miguel – a diversion when so much more was occurring around us.
How wrong I was.
~ ~ ~
I finished up my shortened shift at the Daily Dollar. Celia told me the bar was closing for what was happening at the Triple Shot. She had called last call at six. A few of the patrons grumbled, but she told them they could head over to Dean's bar on C Street.
I didn't care much, it was just a function to celebrate Miguel's patching. I didn't care much for Miguel as a person; he seemed as if everything was a bother – not like the other bikers in the club. But I had been asked to go, so I intended to do just that. Maybe I could just sit and shoot the breeze with Gunner or Donna.
Wallet strolled in around six-thirty. He lifted his arms. "I'm early."
Celia rolled her eyes. "It's the Triple Shot, you goof. We're closing here in a half."
His smile didn't falter."Gah, well..." He came over to me. "Nice duds there."
I was wearing one of my new jeans and the new jacket and boots. "Eh. Started getting cold on the bike. Windbreaker wasn't cutting it."
He laughed. "Windbreaker on a Harley? Might as well wear toilet paper. In fact, that might even be warmer."
"No doubt." I sipped at my water. I always drank water when on shift.
"I hear Ace went missing."
"Supposedly. Blue bandana – Surenos, likely."
He grinned at me. "That's what Jefferson thinks."
The sheriff seemed like a no-nonsense man. "Doesn't take a genius..."
He laughed like it was a good joke. He clapped my shoulder. "See you at the Triple."
I watched him go. Free, easy, without a care in the world. I wished I could be like that.
Celia called a little later, "Closing in five."
Grumbles from the three locals did not contradict her; they just complained.
I helped one old regular out – Johnny was his name – and wondered if I would end up like him: Jimmy the drunk, drinking his life away and amounting to nothing but a temporarily warm barstool. Will I die alone? Will my Kristy even be there?
I fingered my keys as Celia closed out the register.
Would I amount to nothing? Was bouncing my career? Would Kristy be there when I got sick? I felt a wave of love for my wife. Despite her occasional fucks with Dealer, she slept in my bed, close, every night. It was me she clung to. Suddenly, I wanted to be at the Triple. I said, "You about done?"
Celia was a nice-looking woman, but lined with the beginning of age. Wife to Ralph the attorney, she worked while he played at being a hang-around. They both did, but she earned money for it. She looked pretty, despite her lines, and I wondered what she had done before this.
I didn't ask immediately.
She locked the door's two locks and I escorted her to her car, as usual. No one was a threat this night in Keystone.
She said, "Thanks." I could tell her heart wasn't in it.
I said, "What did you do before bartending?"
She paused, leaning on the door of her Dodge. "I was a realtor."
"I thought they made good money?"
She looked at me as if I was crazy. "In this economy? I sold three properties my final year."
I didn't know if that was good or not. "Not enough to live on?"
She laughed. "I think I make more in tips than I did as a realtor." She got into her car and slammed the door.
I stood for only a second, looking at her through the glass. I had protected her for months now, believing I knew her. I turned away, viewing her in a new light. Much like me, she had turned away from a career that sounded good but provided nothing. Computers? Nothing. Realty? Nothing, apparently. Was it all really so bad that the only jobs were Walmart and McDonalds? Places that catered to the welfare class?
Those thoughts slipped from my mind as I drank in the cool night air of Keystone. I sat on my Harley and gazed up at the stars in the clear skies overhead. No matter how I viewed the jobs, where I was now was far better than where I was before.
Life was about to throw me a very huge wrench.
CHAPTER 11
I rode to the Triple, my Harley thrumming beneath me in a comforting rumble. I had taken my time, letting Celia drive to the bar and outpace me. I didn't care.
What I really looked forward to was a night with Kristy. If I could slip out of the Triple early, then maybe she could, too. Who knows?
Bikes were everywhere. I think the entire club was here. I parked and backed in at the end of a very long line of Harleys. Some were even across the street.
One of the police SUVs drove by and I waved. I didn't notice if they waved back or not.
Inside, Gripper was handing out three wooden nickels to each non-club patron and asking them to come back the next day. Bikers were everywhere and so were the hang-arounds. The Triple Shot was a classier dive than the Daily, with more neon booze signs, some tin, and a more impressive bottle wall. It even held three slot machines near the restrooms. Two pool tables and a bunch of well-kept wooden chairs and varnished tables made a very comfortable feeling bar.
I approached Kristy. Her smile was pure pleasure. I felt better, if still bothered by other things and greeted her. "Hi."
"Well, how nice to see you in here, finally. Thought you'd never come try to pick me up."
"You get hit on in here much?"
She rolled her eyes. "Every single day. I just bat my eyes and get better tips."
I laughed. "It's probably not that easy."
"Basically, it is." She giggled. "So many pathetic attempts."
"Any good ones?"
"Only Dealer." She stuck out her tongue at me.
"Where is he, anyway?"
She shrugged. "Oh, there he is."
He was coming in, looking around with a tight grin. "Our birthday boy here yet?"
Twenty growled, "Not yet."
Dealer gave a curt nod. "It's early yet, anyway." He came over to the bar and went behind it. He said to Kristy, "Get out; I'm tending."
My wife twisted her lips at him. "Fine. Do you know where everything is?"
Dealer looked over at Twenty and wagged his thumb back towards Kristy. "Are you getting this? I think she needs a spanking."
I snorted. Kristy and I walked over to a table and sat.
She said, "You mind if I have a little woo-hoo with Dealer later?"
"Nah, go ahead. You mind if I have a little play with Donna later?"
"Not Angela?" She appeared a little disappointed.
"Fuck yeah, but she's never... around at night. If you catch my drift."
"Oh... right." She laughed. "I really like her."
"Yeah, me too."
"Never thought I'd say that about a hooker."
"Yeah, me neither. But she isn't like other hookers."
Kristy shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, the only view we get is what the TV tells us. Maybe there are more like her—"
"Ba
h, more like girls who will do anything to turn a trick because their johns keep them hooked on drugs."
Gripper was at the door and blocked someone from coming in. "Private event."
Someone said, "Oh..."
"Come back tomorrow. Here, have a drink on us." He handed a wooden nickel.
The voice cheered perceptibly. "Sure, thanks!"
"Have a nice night."
The voice called back, "You too."
Kristy and I grinned at each other. Gripper was a big man and all muscle. Arms like logs. To see him be cordial was amusing.
She said, "So what's been eating you?"
"This whole thing with the Sons of Aggression, I guess. I liked hanging out with the Iron Crows. And then I get pushed over there. For what? A bit earlier, one of them tells me Ace had disappeared. A blue bandana left outside his garage."
"Blue bandana?"
"Remember the Surenos we fought?"
She nodded.
"Well, they wore blue Pendletons and bandanas."
"Oh, like colors?" Kristy was not slow.
"Yep."
"Ace wanted to do drugs and also the Surenos. Sounds like someone got jealous."
I lowered my voice. "Thing is, I haven't seen hide nor hair of any Surenos since we sent them running."
"Maybe you missed them."
"Yeah, maybe." I tapped the table with a finger. "And maybe it's just as easy to go buy a blue bandana and accidentally on purpose drop it, if you catch my drift."
"You think someone else did it? Took Ace?"
"Yeah, I do. Wallet told me Sheriff Jefferson is going with the Surenos line."
"So maybe it was them."
"Maybe. Maybe Jefferson is just looking the other way because problems are disappearing."
She looked around. "You think someone in the Iron Crows did it?"
"Shh, not so loud." I looked around. Demon Rider was coming in, looking shifty-eyed. I whispered to Kristy, "Like maybe him."
Demon Rider touched his vest, his eyes blinking rapidly. He went over to the jukebox and leaned over it, the light from below painting his face in lurid hues.
My oh-fuck radar was going off.
He inserted coins and selected a song. Starting up was some rap song about killing bitches.
My hair stood on end.
Kristy said, "What's wrong?"
I was tense, sitting on the edge of my seat.
Gripper appeared bored. Twenty was talking to Dealer at the bar. Both glanced over at Demon Rider. Dealer was smiling happily. Gunner was staring me down from the next table.
I looked back to Demon Rider. He was a patched member, above suspicion by the brothers. A hang-around couldn't start griping about having cramps of suspicion. I would be laughed at, cussed at, and maybe even punched around.
Demon Rider's arms tensed on the juke box. His head made little jerks, as if he was talking to himself.
I knew what it was. He was tweaking. High on something, he was fighting for control.
He pushed off the machine and turned, his eyes glassy. He took a faltering step. His eyes locked onto Dealer.
Dealer wasn't even looking.
My oh-fuck radar turned into a full air raid scream of shit-fucks.
Demon Rider put his right hand into his left vest.
Fuck, it's a gun! I rose.
The tweaker began walking with a purpose, his arm coming out – straight for Dealer.
I reached and pulled my Beretta Nano. I moved quickly behind the biker and aimed my gun. I had to be close and at the right angle to avoid hitting anyone else.
Several things happened at once.
Demon Rider was bringing up his gun.
Dealer leaned onto one forearm on the bar and turned his gaze to Demon Rider. The fucker smiled.
My gun was knocked upward, my shot going into the ceiling.
Bikers that had seemed relaxed were suddenly all over Demon Rider. He never got off his shot. Fists rained down at the druggie on the floor, and boots added many thuds and thunks.
Gunner grabbed my gun hand. "It's under control, Jimmy. Calm down. We didn't want any shooting."
Dealer growled. "Wrap that piece of shit up and get him out back. Play dumb if the cops come in about the gunshot. Hurry up!"
Bikers moved. A rolled rug from the hall leading to the back door was brought in and unrolled. A baseball bat flopped out of it. Twenty scooped it up and lifted it high in two hands. The bat came down hard and there was a sickening crack as it impacted Miguel's head.
I swallowed hard. No human could survive that kind of head hit.
Twenty spat on him and the bikers rolled up the body. They lifted the burden and ran out the back. The entire rug operation had taken only seconds. Just like that, I was staring at the empty spot where Demon Rider had stood only thirty seconds before.
Gunner released my arm.
I whispered, "Fucking brutal." I holstered my gun. "You guys knew?"
Gunner grunted. "All along. We had to bring him in as a show of trust to get him to act. He was a stooge for the CIA."
I sat heavily, open-mouthed.
Dealer laughed at something Twenty said. The president raised his voice. "Order up your drinks, brothers. And someone turn that rap-shit off."
CHAPTER 12
I followed the members into the clubhouse. Not all of the hang-arounds had been invited to the Triple. But with the clubhouse locked up, they had chosen to do other things. The first to show up was Chuck.
I grabbed a Scotch from Grannie and sat down at the newspaper basket. Thinking back to the sheriff coming in, I peeled back some newspapers and pulled up a handful from underneath. I began flipping, looking for anything about child molesters.
Big Pizza came and plopped down next to me, waving a beer and a huge piece of pizza. It had to be fourteen inches long.
I blinked. "Fuck, that thing's huge."
He laughed deep. "I have them special made from Antonio's. It's how I got my nickname. There's four boxes over there if you want a piece." He indicated the table next to the helmet table at the front.
"Oh, thanks. I think I will." I put the Scotch and newspapers down and fetched a slice. Heavy with cheese and sausage, I took the thinnest piece I could find and bit off a good three inches to keep it from flopping onto the floor. I returned and sat. I went back to flipping through papers.
He grumbled, "You were fast on the gun. I didn't think Gunner was going to reach you."
"I could have taken him out."
"And made a mess of blood and bone that woulda been harder to clean up."
I looked at him. "Did everyone know about Miguel?"
He nodded somberly. "We had it under control."
I grunted and scanned the pages. I eventually found a police blotter and began reading those in each issue. It was the third issue where I found mention.
"Joel Silver failed to complete a mandatory compliance check in the two hundred block of Daily Drive Tuesday morning with Deputy Davies. His violation was reported to the US Dept of Justice."
Daily Drive was the street with the elementary school. I wondered what grab and grind meant. Was he killed? Told to leave? Threatened? Not that any of it mattered to me as long as the result was the asshole was no longer directly watching young kids and planning his next abduction/rape/murder. Seeing it in the paper made me feel better. I chomped on the pizza; I hadn't eaten anything since the two scrambled eggs in the morning. I was dropping weight fast.
Big Pizza used the crust of his eaten pizza to tap my paper. "What're you looking for?"
There was no point I saw in lying. "I had heard about a child molester being placed across from the elementary school. I wondered if he was still around. Says he failed his compliance check.
The man guffawed. "Yep, he vanished." In a guttural low breath, he said, "Never to be seen again."
I put the papers away and picked up my Scotch. "Good. It angers me the feds think it's a good idea to put molesters directly across from a schoo
l filled with little kids."
Big Pizza grunted. "Yeah, can't be hurting their feelings. I'm sure it's racist or something to put them in an area without vulnerable kids."
"Well, I'm glad the asshole is gone."
His voice was certain. "He's gone."
"Miguel had been visiting the same motel Ace had—"
Big Pizza's grin turned so devious and his eyes so brittle-hard that I stopped. He said, "And they're gone, too. Maybe this is a subject best forgotten. I hope you take that hint."
I chewed a bite of pizza and hefted it. "Great pizza."
Big Pizza guffawed so loud I think the room shook. He slapped me on the leg and winked. He got up and wandered away.
Donna came in and saw me. She veered to the bar and got herself a Scotch, too. She came over and took Big Pizza's place. "How are you doing, tonight?"
Being that she hadn't been invited to the Triple, I just shrugged. "Well enough. I think the night has been pretty outstanding."
"Where's Kristy?"
I raised my glass. "Having her own outstanding night with Dealer. They headed back there almost immediately. I think Dealer felt very energized."
She laughed and shook her head. "I don't think I could tell my husband about all of this; he wouldn't understand."
"Why doesn't he come around?"
She blew out a breath from pursed lips. "He thinks motorcycles are dumb. Thinks I'm crazy with penis-envy."
I chuckled. "He'd never understand, then."
"Nope." She sipped at her Scotch. "So I guess we can't watch Dealer and your wife..."
"Well, I could, but that's no fun. Too stressful on my dick."
She laughed.
I looked at her. She was a pretty woman in a rough way. Men would not drool over Donna Pressman. I frowned, tilting my head. "You want to... play a little?"
She shifted and looked around. She looked back to me, her voice low and urgent. "You want to? It was so much fun..."
"Shh. Let's go find a room." The former brothel had plenty of rooms, several unused. I led her down the left hall, away from the faint moans coming from Dealer's door. His hall had the most claimed rooms. The left hall, towards the kitchen had the least used rooms, including the one I had been held captive in. I opened that door and pointed. "I laid on that, captive for three days."
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