by J. L. Leslie
He’s an abusive piece of shit. He’s battered Karen for only God knows how long. She can’t take care of herself and eventually he’ll kill her.
I park about a mile from Lancaster’s and walk the rest of the way through the woods. I don’t walk on any loose gravel so that I don’t leave any footprints. I’m calculated and careful.
I grew up in Verdana and know the area like the back of my hand. Henry Lancaster used to let me come pick corn from his field when I was a kid. There was no cabin here then though.
Once I clear the woods, I skirt the edge of the farm and it doesn’t take me long to spot the cabin. The fucker is actually sitting on the porch drinking a beer. He obviously feels no remorse for stabbing Karen. His feet are propped up on a stool, his beer gut exposed from his unbuttoned shirt.
I take my time opening my case and setting up my rifle. I’m methodic with my routine. I’m in no rush. No one knows where I am. No one is looking for me. Griffin is having drinks with Steve and I’m at home taking a shower after a long shift at work. Supposedly. I know that’s where my car will be making it appear to be so.
I get into position and find Bill in my sights. Disgusting asshole. You’ll never touch her again. I put the crosshairs on his face. Right on the bridge of his nose. I want to ruin him. I want him to be unrecognizable.
I breathe out and pull the trigger.
I look through the crosshairs again and see Bill’s head...what’s left of it…slumped against the back of the chair. Blood and brain matter is splattered across the wall of the cabin behind him. He doesn’t move. His beer bottle rolls across the porch.
I look back up at Bill once more just to be sure he’s dead. I know he is. I know I didn’t miss. Daddy taught me well.
~Luka~
I round the corner with the shopping cart and grumble under my breath. Wrong aisle again. Where the fuck is toilet paper in this damn place?
I went in at five a.m. at Johnson’s Mill and then straight to the clubhouse when I knocked off at five p.m. Now I’m in Wal-mart picking up supplies. I’m a fucking errand boy.
To add to my frustration, Griffin still hasn’t returned my calls. The body I gave him a week ago is old news. A new body was found this morning and according to the paper, the murders don’t appear to be related. Bill Pace was not involved with either motorcycle club.
I don’t know if that’s what has a cork up his ass or not. He still needs to hold up his end of the bargain. I gave him something, now he needs to give me something.
“You look lost, Luka Varelli.”
I turn at the voice coming from behind me and fight the urge to smile. “I am lost. I’m more of a dollar store type guy. It’s easier.”
“Are you playing errand boy today?” Raiden teases and I let out a light laugh.
“Apparently, and I have quite the list. Toilet paper, paper towels, paper plates, condoms, lube, and a DVD of Sanford & Son, any season. That’s only half the list.”
“Jones likes to watch it while he’s in the shop. He says any season, but he already has season one. Keep that in mind.”
“I will. If I ever find it.” I tell her and she laughs.
Honestly, the sound of her laughter comes as a surprise to me. It sort of goes right through me. It has this throaty, husky quality to it and just makes me want to hear it again.
“You know, Wal-mart kinda tells where you to find everything. There’s these big signs above the aisles.” she smiles and points up. “Each one lists what’s on each aisle.”
Sarcasm suits her perfectly. Her big, brown eyes are dancing with humor. A smile still plays at the corner of her mouth.
“I haven’t seen one that list condoms and lube yet.” I grin. “Or Sanford & Son.”
There’s that laugh again. It makes me wonder what other throaty, husky sounds she makes.
“Give me the list.” she states and holds out her hand. “I suppose I have time to help you. Otherwise, you’ll never get outta here.”
Within fifteen minutes, we’re halfway through it. I feel a little inadequate at how easily she maneuvered her way around the store and at how lost I was. She doesn’t tease me about it too badly though.
“So how often do you get to ride?” I ask and she gives me a funny look. “Your bike?”
“Oh!” she laughs. “Not as often as I’d like to. I have to keep up appearances. Not too many nurses drive motorcycles.”
“You have to hide.”
I see her cheeks flush a little and I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or anger. Probably the latter. Raiden Daughtry seems like the type of woman who would rather wear leather and tattoos than the pretty pink sundress and sandals she’s got on right now. I’d almost put money on that. Not that she doesn’t look delectable in the sundress.
“You could bring your bike to the old dirt track out on Jefferson. It’s pretty secluded.” I offer.
“I think this is everything on the list.”
Raiden hands it back to me and I shove it in my pocket. “Thanks for helping.” I say and she starts to walk off. “You know, every time I see you, you seem to be at war with yourself.”
“That probably means I shouldn’t be around you.” she quips.
I smile. “Or maybe you should.”
Chapter Six
~Raiden~
I grab my bags from my car and walk to my door. I hesitate before putting my key in. My “Welcome” mat is crooked. Either someone has been here or someone’s here now. My mat is never crooked.
I walk back to my car and get my gun from under my seat. I look around my neighborhood for any sign of a strange vehicle, but see nothing out of the ordinary.
I tuck the gun close to my side and go back to my door. I ease it open and step inside, raising the gun in front of me.
“Damn it, dad!” I yell and he chuckles. I lower the gun and close the door. “I could’ve shot you.”
“You don’t shoot until you know what the threat is. Do you need help with those bags?”
“I got it.” I snap, not bothering to hide my irritation. I get the bags from right outside my door and walk through, setting them down in my kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
“You said we needed to talk.” he answers.
Right. Luka and Griffin. Dad takes a seat on a barstool and grabs an apple from my nearly empty basket. I put my gun underneath the cabinet until I can get it back to my car.
“I’m concerned about Luka. I saw some notes in Lincoln’s file where Griffin has asked him to be an informant.” I explain and he gives me a dumbfounded look. “Against the Ravens.”
“Well, that’s a problem.” he deadpans.
“I told you he would be.” I snip while putting my groceries away. I rarely get the opportunity to tell my dad “I told you so”, so I try not to rub it in. “Griffin thinks Luka can get him info in exchange for a better deal for Lincoln.”
“You think that’s what happened with Fred?” he asks and I shrug.
“No idea, but how in the hell did that body get found so quickly? I mean, he was buried in the middle of nowhere with a damn tree on top of his head. He was supposed to be leaving the warehouse for a five-day run for the Rykers. No one reported him missing because he wasn’t supposed to be here. I did my fucking research. Fred makes that Mexico run every year.”
“I hear ya. I agree that it makes no sense. Now we have to lay low and wait to take out Bart. I’ll talk to him. Maybe we could use it to our advantage somehow.” my dad muses.
“Don’t play around when his brother’s safety is involved, dad.” I warn.
“His brother will be fine.” he assures me. “Oh, what did Bill Price do to you? Paper said his head was blown clean off.”
“His girlfriend is a repeat patient. I shouldn’t be seeing her anymore.” I answer and he nods.
“Nice work.”
Dad tosses his half eaten apple into the garbage and slips out the back door just as Griffin comes in the front. He leans down and gives me a peck on
the lips.
“I’m starting dinner now.” I tell him. “Is alfredo okay with you?”
“Sounds good, babe. I’ll shower and then come help.”
He kisses me once more and I see him loosening his tie as he walks down the hall. I’ve gotten so used to this…routine. I know what nights Griffin is coming over or when I’m going to his place. I know what he does after he has a trial. How he likes his coffee. His favorite food. Almost everything about him.
But he doesn’t know the real me. Not at all. I am at war with myself. Sometimes I don’t know which part of me is going to win.
~Luka~
The banging on my door jars me awake before my alarm goes off. 4:06 a.m. I blink my eyes several times and glare at the red numbers on my clock. The banging persist so I roll out of bed and stumble through my apartment before whoever is knocking wakes up the whole damn building.
I open the door and know it can’t be good. Dax and Raiden are standing in front of me. I motion for them to come inside and tell them to give me a second while I go put some clothes on. I’d rather not talk to them in just a pair of boxer briefs.
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I walk back to my room. Surely if Dax was going to kill me for being a snitch, he wouldn’t do it front of Raiden. Right? Even so, I tuck my beretta in the back of my jeans before going back to the living room.
“Have a seat, Luka. We need to talk.” Dax says. I think it’s a little funny how he’s telling me to have a seat in my own place, but I don’t comment.
“You’ve been a good prospect so far. You’re quiet, but you get along well with the other members. You take orders well. You don’t cause trouble and I like that. I need someone like you with the Ravens.” Dax starts. “But my source with the ADA tells me you’ve been compromised.”
I glance over at Raiden and she stares right back at me. Her gaze doesn’t waiver. She’s the source.
“What sort of deal did he make with you, Luka?” Dax asks and I feel my shoulders slump a little.
“Information in exchange for releasing my brother.” I answer, honestly. There’s no point in lying when he knows the truth.
“Have you provided Griffin Knowles with any information regarding the Ravens?”
I look at the two of them and part of me wants to lie. Pretend that I haven’t said a word yet. Then I figure they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t know that already too.
“I called Griffin and told him where the body was buried. The one Kane and I did the cleanup for. That’s the only information I’ve provided him with.”
“Your brother hasn’t been released though.” Dax states.
“No, apparently it wasn’t enough info.”
“Typically, if someone were to betray my club, I’d kill them.” Dax replies, calmly. “Torture them, then kill them. I don’t take lightly to betrayal.”
I shift in my seat, but don’t make a move for my gun. Neither of them have moved and Dax hasn’t given me any indication that he’s going to harm me. Yet.
“However, I’ve talked it over with Raiden and I think this situation can be used to our advantage.” he says and glances over to her. “You provide the ADA with the information I tell you to provide him with. That’s your job.”
“It won’t take him long to catch on that it’s bullshit information. I won’t let my brother rot in jail.” I tell him, shaking my head and feeling like my entire world is crumbling around me.
“Is he out?” he yells. “Griffin’s playing you and he’ll keep fucking playing you until he decides he’s had enough!”
“I can’t…” I stand up and Dax jumps to his feet too.
“He’s right, Luka.” Raiden cuts in and comes between us. “I know Griffin very well and I know that he’ll continue to get information from you, but your brother won’t go anywhere. Not until Griffin thinks he has enough to take the Ravens down and that won’t ever happen. He’s using you.”
“I have to help him.” I tell her, gripping her arms.
She grabs my arms and nods. “I’ll help you. I promise.”
I close my eyes and nod, praying that she keeps her word so that I can keep mine.
Chapter Seven
~Raiden~
I open Griffin’s door and step inside. I could hear his raised voice from the driveway. I bring the Chinese takeout bag to the kitchen table and set it down.
“I don’t know what the fuck happened, Martin!” he yells and runs a hand through his blonde locks. “My CI told me there would be drugs on the van. That’s why I called you!”
I take the food out and wait for Griffin to finish his phone call. He’s pacing and flailing his arms as he continues to explain to the DEA that his informant must have been misinformed or either the drugs were moved before the DEA could get there for the bust.
I know there were never any drugs on the van. It was clean. The Ravens don’t distribute drugs. By Griffin calling the DEA to do a drug bust and them not finding anything, it makes them question him and gives them reason not to jump and run the next time he calls.
“Sorry, babe.” he mumbles and kisses the top of my head. “It’s been a shit day.”
“I can tell. Everything okay?” I ask and hand him a container of noodles.
“I called the DEA and tipped them off on the location of a drug delivery and when they got there, there was no drugs. My CI got it wrong.”
“Maybe the DEA got the wrong vehicle.” I offer and he laughs.
“No, they got the right one, but it was clean. The whole thing was a fuck-up.”
Griffin sits the container of noodles back down on the table and starts pacing again. He scrolls through his phone and then stops, looking over at me.
“I’ll have to find out what’s going on with my guy. I’m not going to be good company tonight.” he says, apologetically.
I stand up from the table and start cleaning up the food. “It’s okay. I’m tired from work and I work the early shift again tomorrow. You’ll figure out what happened. I know it.”
I take a box of sweet and sour chicken with me and munch on it while I drive. I pass my house and keep driving until I reach the old dirt track. Luka was right. It is secluded and quiet out here. I haven’t been in years. Not since I was a kid.
I bring the half eaten carton of chicken with me and walk out to a set of old bleachers. They creak as I step onto them and sit down. I imagine the way this track used to look. Packed with people. The cars at the starting line ready to race. My parents sitting on either side of me.
“You bring enough for two?”
I startle at the voice, realizing I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even hear Luka’s bike. He sits beside me and I offer him the container. He smiles and fishes a piece of chicken out.
“I’m a little surprised you came up here.” he confesses between chews.
“It’s been a long day. I trusted that you said it was secluded.”
“It is.” he assures me.
“Well, not if you’re here.” I laugh. “I also thought you might be getting your ass chewed right now.”
“If he wants to ignore my calls, I can ignore his.” he grins. “So, what do you think? You like it here?”
I sigh. “I was remembering when I used to come here as a kid.”
“Me and Lincoln did too.” he says.
“Do you remember how they would play the National Anthem and then play Thunderstruck right after?” I laugh.
“You’ve been…”
“Thunderstruck!” we say, simultaneously and then laugh together too.
“I hated that song.” I tell him and he scoffs.
“It’s a classic, Raiden. How can you possibly hate Thunderstruck?” he teases.
“I don’t know. It’s really annoying.” I smile and take the container back from him. “Don’t eat all my chicken.”
“Oh, you know you don’t mind sharing.” I tell her and eat another piece. “You know, my dad still has that old Mustang. The one Cliff Coleman use
d to race here.”
“No shit? Does it still run?” I ask.
“Yep. He takes it into town sometimes. After Cliff blew the engine he brought it to the shop and then he couldn’t pay for it. Never came back.”
“He had all those sponsors and he couldn’t afford to pay for it?” I question, skeptically.
“He liked cocaine a little too much.” Luka explains and I nod.
“That’s a shame. He probably could have done something with his life. I had the biggest crush on him.” I laugh. “I’m pretty sure I still have an autographed t-shirt in the back of my closet. My dad was livid when I got it.”
“What did your mom think?”
Just the mention of my mom makes my heart ache. When I got the t-shirt she had already been gone three years. I was going through a stage where I desperately needed her advice and felt like I had no one. Sonnie tried, but no one’s advice is the same as your own mom’s.
“She died when I was twelve.” I tell him. “My dad probably would have rather locked me in the house until my teen years were over, but that wasn’t possible.”
If he would have done that, I probably wouldn’t have lost my virginity to Cal Harrison at fifteen.
“So where’s your bike? I thought you were coming out here to ride.” he asks and I shake my head, glad to be pulled from my thoughts.
“No riding tonight. My bike is in storage. It’s difficult for me to go unnoticed on my bike so I don’t ride it very often.” I explain. “Just came for peace and quiet.”
“That’s a disgrace. You have a ’72 Harley and you’re not riding it. It’s probably lonely in storage, wondering where you are.” he jokes.
“Probably so.”
“I have my bike, so let’s ride.” he offers and stands up.
“No, I’m good. I’m not going through motorcycle withdrawal or anything.”
“Let’s ride, Raiden.” he says, firmly and holds his hand out.
I gaze up at him and want to tell him no. I should tell him no. His dark eyes give me a pleading look and I give in, reaching up to take his hand. The container of chicken is left on the bleachers as I follow him to his bike.
