Prince

by Kathryn Thomas

  Something in Jim’s gut wrenched. He hadn’t been a big fan of his own father, but it had still hurt to lose him. “I’m sorry, Susan. How long does he have?”

  “I don’t know.” There were tears in her voice, and she sniffed, obviously not wanting to cry. “He’s got a disease and needs chemo, which he can’t have without a liver transplant. But he can’t get a liver transplant because he’s an alcoholic, and he won’t even take one from family. So, days, maybe? Weeks? I don’t know. He’s in bad shape.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  It had been ages since Jim comforted anyone, but he tried. He sat next to Susan, pressed against her side, and put an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her head to his chest, and she didn’t fight him. Instead, she buried her face deep into him, like she needed his warmth. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

  She shook her head against him, her voice was muffled by his clothes. “You’re doing everything you can right now.”

  Jim rested his chin on top of her head, and they sat for a long time. His mind went blank; he couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of Susan in his arms and the pain that dwelled inside her. He understood loss and regrets. When she finally sat up and tucked her hair behind her ears, her eyes were red but they were dry. She gave him a sad, embarrassed smile. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I think so.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  Risking another fight, Jim told her, “Maybe you should try to talk to your father and put whatever came between you in the past. You don’t want to have regrets when he’s gone. It’ll just eat at you until there’s nothing left to recover.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You speak from experience.”

  With a shrug, he stood. “I guess you could say that.” He made a show of adjusting his clothes while he took a minute to turn a corner and get off Memory Lane. “I need to get home. I’ve been on the go since about seven this morning. Are you okay? Are you going to be able to sleep?”

  “I’ll be fine. What about you?”

  He pretended to consider that carefully. Then, on a whim, he leaned down and kissed her with almost as much passion as he had when he’d arrived. He straightened and brightened at her stunned expression. “I think I’ll sleep just fine now.”

  He walked out of her apartment without looking back. Jim mounted his bike, his heart feeling much lighter than it had an hour before, and kicked the engine to life. The machine rumbled beneath him, and he took off for home. He had two questions on his mind. First, what were they going to do with the Diablos’ request when the club met tomorrow? And second, had it been the sex or Susan’s admission of caring about him that made him feel on top of the world?

  Both questions were frightening, and he knew the answer to either one of them could be the death of him. But Jim also knew for sure he was ready to face whatever came his way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Well, boys, your fearless leader tried to turn down the Blancos’ demands,” Ari began as the door to the Court Room closed behind Digger. He pinned Jim with a deadly glare. “But someone promised those bastards we’d bring those demands back for a vote.”

  “Jim saved your life, Ari, and the rest of us, too,” Donnie argued from the other end of the table. He knit his brows. “You got cocky and didn’t think about the safety of your crew. Jim had to do that for you.”

  “What did you expect me to do?” Ari bared his teeth. “We voted not to negotiate.”

  Jim shook his head. “Maybe, but we didn’t vote to have a gun fight last night. We voted to talk to the Diamondbacks, which we haven’t even done yet. Even if we go with the original plan, we needed to buy some time. If you insist on going ahead the way you want to, we’re wasting time. We’ve got to get to the Diamondbacks and back in two and a half days now.”

  Kentucky stood up and paced back and forth by the door. “Let’s cut out the arguments and talk about what they want. How much are they asking?”

  “Fifteen percent,” Boxer and Donnie chorused.

  Jim sat forward. “Look, for $75,000 a run, we can buy our way into Diablos territory, cut the risk in half, and keep the peace. We don’t have enough businesses on our payroll to launder what we’re buying into anyway. We were already on board for fifty, what’s an extra twenty-five? It still gives us 1.7 million a month, which is triple what we had before.”

  “And it’s smaller bills, so we can probably buy our way into another business or two,” Boxer piped in.

  But Weasel slammed his fist on the table. “It’s not about the cost or the safety. It’s about letting those assholes get a line on us. If we compromise with them, they’ll just want more, and word will get out that we’re pushovers. We’ve got to stick to our guns on this.”

  “Maybe we should weigh the cost of using the Diablos against the cost of guns from the Diamondbacks,” Donnie interjected. “It’s a longer trip to Wyoming, and we’ll likely have to give them a much larger cut to keep the ammo coming.”

  “Then we lie about our income,” Weasel suggested.

  Tipper scoffed. “They’ll ask why we have such a problem working with the Diablos if we lie about our profit.”

  “Then we tell them the truth,” Ari grunted. “And we tell them we’d rather cut them in for the ten percent the Diablos are demanding because we’d rather work with the white boys and get rid of the scum. They’ll eat it up. It’s a much better lie to tell. Much more beneficial.”

  Jim couldn’t see any benefit. “If you’re worried more about the financial cost than the human cost, your priorities are off. If we do this, we’re going lose men. There’s no way to avoid that. I’d rather pay the money and find a way out of it later, before they decide to completely extort us, than lose a single one of the Talons.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Meeks spoke up. “We get enough guns, and we can call on the businesses on our payroll to back us with some of those guns. These guys have been making money off us for a long time, and they’re about to multiply their own income off our work. They owe us their loyalty.”

  But Jim couldn’t see it. He refused to willingly drag anyone else into this mess. Those businessmen were already taking legal risks; when it came to spilling blood, they were innocent. They didn’t deserve to stand in the line of fire because the club feared losing too much money or looking weak. That would be the same as telling Susan she had to ride with him on a money run because she’d entered into a sexual relationship with him.

  And thinking of her brought home the need to protect the innocent. “If we did that,” he said to Meeks, “we’d be the ones to blame if any one of them was hurt or killed. And we’d also still be looking at a war on our territory. It would be selfish to put the entire damn town in danger just because we didn’t want to give up a little extra cash. It would be different if we couldn’t afford it, or if they were asking for more. But I would rather protect this club and all the innocent people around us than worry about getting bent over for an extra five percent.”

  “Enough,” Ari called out. “We’ve laid everything out that needs to be considered. It’s time to make the call. I vote no on fifteen percent.” He turned to the right, where Digger sat, but Jim shook his head.

  “I’m putting my vote out now. I vote yes.”

  The vote went around. Boxer, Meeks and Tipper also voted yes. The decision hinged on Digger. Jim looked back and forth between Digger and Ari, hoping that he’d make the right decision.

  With a sigh, Digger looked down at his hands and said, “No.”

  That was it, then. Jim stood, wanting nothing more than to jump Ari and beat him until he was black and blue. He glared at his leader. “I hope you’re happy.” He started to leave the room.

  “Wait,” Boxer called, and he turned to stare at his friend. Boxer shifted uncomfortably. “If we have to do it this way, we’ve got to form a plan, fast. Like you said, we have to get to Wyoming and back before the Diablos come lo
oking for an answer.”

  “Not that anyone else seems to have stopped to think about it,” Tipper said, twiddling his thumbs, “but it is practically impossible to get out there with a truck that can carry back the weapons, negotiate business with the Diamondbacks, and get back here in time to confront the Diablos in time. Even if you’d gone straight from your meeting last night, we wouldn’t have been able to turn it around fast enough.”

  Jim’s rage built as he realized Tipper was right. They’d have to make their first stand with the weapons they had, and that wasn’t much. “So I guess we’re putting the trip on hold. We need every member here when the Diablos come hunting.”

  Ari rubbed a hand down his face, but Jim knew he wasn’t concerned; his eyes were bright, and his lips curved up at the corners. “We’ll be fine. Everyone in the club has fire power. We’ll scare those bastards off long enough to get more.”

  Jim hoped so. He didn’t like this one bit, and despite the fact that he needed to be here in case something happened, all he wanted was to go home. “I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back later.” He threw open the door and strode out to his bike, lighting a cigarette and smoking fast. Boxer was already on his tail, and he didn’t want to talk about this with anyone else, or he might just blow a gasket.

  “Hey, Wade, hold up!” Boxer called as he came toward Jim. Stopping next to him, he spoke in a much quieter voice. “This is bad, man.”

  “No shit.” Jim shook his head. “I didn’t sign up to put my life on the line for the whole damn town.”

  “Neither did I,” Boxer sighed. “What do we do now?”

  “Keep our eyes open and, starting tonight, no one rides alone, or without a gun.” It was the best they could do, and it wasn’t good enough. He needed some time to think, to see if he could come up with a better solution. “I’m going to spend some time at home. I’ll be back early evening. You should suggest that the entire crew get back here by then so we can partner up somehow.” He tossed his cigarette and started the engine. Boxer gave him a lazy salute, and he pulled away. He’d figure something out, if he could just go somewhere private.

  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, Susan 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. Susan 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 Jim 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, Susan couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the previous night with Jim. 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. Susan 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 Jim, even though she still knew practically nothing about him.

  Susan could count on one hand the things she knew. He was a hardass on a motorcycle who was fiercely loyal to all his hardass 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 Jim 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 Jim. 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 Susan 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.

  Eric was in the kitchen, stirring up some microwaved leftovers. “Hey Susan!” 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


  Jim didn’t stay home long, only frustrating himself in his attempt to find a better way to deal with the Diablos. Instead, he called Boxer 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 Crosswind Casino.

  “Why are we here, Wade?” Boxer asked. He spit a large, black mass onto the sidewalk, and Jim smacked him in the gut.

  “Get rid of the chew. It’s disgusting.” Jim threw his cigarette aside. Hypocrite. “We’re talking to Bullseye.”

  Boxer’s expression darkened. “Why are we talking to Bullseye? Last time we were here, he threw us out.”

  “Last time we were here, Ari was drunk off his ass. That’s why we got tossed,” Jim reminded him. “We’ve got to funnel a ton of money, Boxer. This is the largest business on our payroll. We can probably shove at least a quarter of our bills to Bullseye. I need to make sure he’s on board.”

  “You’re also looking for more guns, aren’t you?”

  The question made Jim scowl. “I thought about it. We’re screwed right now, man. We can’t get our hands on anything the Diamondbacks can provide until we’ve already tamed the beast. The Diablos 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 Talons’ 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 Ari, 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 Big Mountain Pawn and talk to Roger, 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. Roger 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.