by Naomi West
Garcia had contacted me the day before to tell me he’d set up a meeting with Jason Steele tonight and was going to carry out the hit. It was going to be simple enough; we were going to carry out the hit under the guise of a drug deal. Steele wouldn’t expect a thing, especially not from Garcia. Steele would probably bring a few men with him, just as a precaution, but I wouldn’t dwell on those too much. It didn’t concern me who got hurt tonight. As far as I was concerned, they were all responsible.
That wouldn’t necessarily mean I’d go out of my way to kill them but if it was a ‘them or me’ situation then I wouldn’t hesitate.
Cameron had wanted to be there as well. He’d initially told Garcia he was coming too which shocked me considering how he didn’t seem to want to be involved before. As far as I was concerned, my uncle wanted the results but didn’t need to be there for the method. So, it came as a surprise when Cameron had spoken about how he wanted to actually be there when justice was served.
Garcia stepped in though, changing Cameron’s mind with some hard-to-argue-with logic. My uncle was entirely too recognizable to take part in a pseudo drug deal. We’d be busted before we could open our mouths and that would truly be a disaster. So, Cameron was staying behind like I’d originally imagined and I supposed he would just have to be content with the knowledge that Steele would no longer be on this earth.
It was strange to think that in a few hours it would all be over. I didn’t really know what to feel. I’d been waiting for this day for so long but now that it was here, I didn’t know whether I should be excited or grateful or relieved or angry. I supposed it would become clearer tonight when I’d finally gotten my vengeance but until then I would be a mixed pot.
“Don’t think too much about it,” was the advice Cameron had given me. “Keep your eye on the prize and think about your dad. Think about the shock that must have been written all over his face when he was shot.”
That was a pep talk if there ever was one.
“Steele needs to die. Go make your father proud,” he finished.
It was his final words that made things a little complicated. Maybe you could say that I didn’t know my dad as well as Cameron knew his brother, but the words were still swirling in my head as I drove up to the Garcia’s warehouse to meet him.
Daria had made things a little more complicated too. I couldn’t help but feel guilty whenever I thought about her. She knew what she was getting herself into, though, and it was far too late to change anything now, even if I wanted to.
I finally arrived at Garcia’s warehouse and parked my bike outside, trying to keep myself as calm as I could before I entered the building. It would do me no good to get worked up and lose my cool, especially today. I knew if Cameron were here, he would tell me the exact same thing.
“Breathe, relax, keep your temper in check,” I muttered to myself before throwing open the doors to the building.
“Garcia,” I greeted. He was several feet away talking to the other men he’d be bringing along. There were two of them, and plus Garcia and I made four of us. That would be enough for the hit, especially since one of Garcia’s men would count as about three.
“Baby Weston,” he called back at me and spread his hands out in greeting. I let the insult roll over my shoulders. It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. Eye on the prize.
I was introduced to his other two men, Lucien and Pedro, both of them greeting me as ‘Weston.’ I appreciated that they didn’t attempt to call me by the same name as their boss or we would’ve had serious problems.
Both men turned from me and to the table that was stacked with guns of all sizes. It was some serious firepower. Were we invading a country or taking care of one guy? I didn’t bother to ask as they began arming themselves to the teeth.
One of them, possibly Lucien, gestured at the pile. “Help yourself to anything.”
I kept my face stoic as I assessed their artillery. There was no way I would accept anything from them. Who knew what kind of strings were attached?
“No thanks,” I declined. “I’ve got my own.”
It was true, though not quite as extensive as theirs. My gun was tucked safely into my waistband and as far as I was concerned, that was the only one I needed. I was eleven years old when my father had gifted it to me, and so it was the perfect gun to use tonight.
“Alright men,” Garcia called us in. “We’ve gone over this before. It’s a simple hit. We’re arriving ten minutes before they are, so we have time to spare. Don’t let them be suspicious of anything. As soon as they arrive we open fire. They’re going to retaliate quickly so we’ll need to take them all out. Jason Steele will not be walking away alive tonight.”
With everyone nodding in agreement, Garcia shouted, “Let’s go,” and we all headed outside.
We were taking a van instead of our bikes, which immediately set me on edge. I didn’t have the comfort of leaving in a hurry if problems should arise but I would also have more protection from bullets. It was a risk either way but I didn’t really have a choice as we all piled inside.
The meet spot was about a half hour away and despite riding in a cramped van that was more uncomfortable than I could imagine, we arrived in practically no time. The spot itself was exactly what I had predicted. It was a back alley in between two large apartment buildings that were near dilapidated.
The alley was fairly long, open on one end to connect to the street where Garcia pulled in. There was a chain-linked fence on the other side, presumably to stop anyone from accessing the buildings behind, but it was half knocked down at this point, easily allowing anyone to get through. There were two dumpsters against the wall on left hand side of the alley and cardboard boxes strewn around haphazardly throughout.
I couldn’t say that the location was uncommon for a meet like this, but something about it felt off. As soon as the van stopped, we all rushed to get out. I looked closely at the far end of the alley. It was dark and I could only just make it out but there seemed to be a set of bikes parked just where the fence had broken down.
“Are those bikes?” Pedro asked, starting to raise his gun in uncertainty.
We were meant to arrive first, so I could understand his apprehension. Taking a few careful steps forward in unison, my eyes darted crazily around us as I tried to capture even a flicker of movement.
I couldn’t specifically pinpoint anything but there was something off about the atmosphere, a calm-before-the-storm type of feeling that hung heavily in the air around us. We had only managed to take three more steps forward when it happened.
They jumped out of seemingly nowhere, flashes filling my vision as shots were fired from both sides. Someone yelled in pain and I lifted my gun to shoot at a man running towards me.
“Move!” Garcia shouted.
All four of us leapt toward the large dumpsters and used them as cover as we aimed around and over.
It was a complete ambush. We were entirely outnumbered. There were maybe ten of Steele’s men, all shooting directly at the four of us. There was no way we would be getting out of there alive.
I stood up in a flash, shooting twice over the top of the dumpster and dropping back down once I hit a target.
“There’s too many of them,” I shouted above the gunfire.
Pedro and Lucien apparently had the same idea, nodding to each other with solemn expressions before running out into the fray.
“What are they doing?” I asked Garcia.
“We’re fucked, Weston. Outnumbered completely. They know that. Pedro and Lucien are loyal to me, they’ll do what’s necessary.”
I peered around the corner as I spotted them running forward and shooting left and right with tremendous skill. One, two, three, four men dropped like flies to the ground.
“Fuck,” I muttered as one of our boys collapsed. A moment later they were both out.
“How many are left?”
“Three, I think. Steele was hit in the arm. He might have taken off. Axle Verano’s
dead too; that was Lucien.”
“Who?”
“Jason’s right hand man. If anything, that’ll set him back a while.”
As we spoke, a man came charging around the dumpster, gun raised and shooting. He only managed one shot before my arm came up of its own volition and a bullet flew right into the man’s head.
“That was close,” I said.
Garcia didn’t reply and I turned my head to see him clutching his chest in stunned silence as blood oozed out from beneath his fingers.
“Shit. We need to get out of here. Look the van’s right there, we can make a run for it.”
“Right,” he agreed.
Garcia and I looked at each other and with a nod of agreement we dashed out from our cover and to the van, shooting blindly behind us. Thankful that we were relatively safe, I sped off away from the street, paying no mind to the bullets that were hitting the back of the van. As soon as we were a few streets away I pulled over and turned my attention to Garcia.
Not really knowing what I was doing, I tried to put pressure on the wound but there was just blood everywhere, spilling out of him like a faucet. Ignoring how unlikely it would be that he’d survive, I pressed both hands to the bullet hole, staunching the blood flow as much as I could.
“It’ll be alright. Look I’ll call an ambulance now—”
“Weston, shut up. We both know I’m not getting out of this alive. I have something to tell you.”
Even facing certain death, the man was a pain in my ass.
“What?”
“Jason Steele wasn’t the reason your father died.”
“What?” I repeated, in outrage now. This was the worst time to bring this up. If Garcia wasn’t already dying, then I’d be tempted to wring his neck. “Yes, he was, what are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t Steele. Cameron Weston was behind it all,” he panted, the words were coming out fainter now, with longer pauses between.
“No, you’re lying.”
“You have to look past what you can see, kid. Not everything’s always black and white. Cameron hated Billy, always had. You spent two minutes in their company and you realized two things. Billy was too soft when it came to his brother, and Cameron doesn’t have a heart.” Garcia was gasping for breath now but determined to continue. “Cameron asked me to take Billy out and blame it on Jason. He wanted to work together and I agreed. It was a good tactical move but more trouble than it was worth. Cameron’s obsessed with power and money. The Satan’s Wings aren’t enough for him, he wants to start a war and take over the Nightmare MC too.”
“But … this whole time he’s been trying to stop a war. He’s always saying how he doesn’t want to lose his men.”
Garcia snorted. “He’d love a war. And he’d love you to start it. Then you and Jason would be out of the picture and he could control both clubs.”
I shook my head against the pile of information I was receiving from Garcia. There was no way it was true. My uncle was a good man and he loved my dad. They were brothers, there was no way he would betray him like that.
“If that’s true, what about the ambush tonight?”
I’d gotten him now, I was sure of it. How could he explain the ambush and the fact that he’d gotten shot?
“That, I’m not sure of. Cameron really does want Jason dead. This hit would’ve gotten rid of him and kept you in line. Didn’t work out, though. Someone at your end must have snitched.”
Snitched? No way.
Everyone I’d told was solid. Cameron knew, but this wouldn’t serve his interests. Daria knew but she would never betray me. That only left…
No. Absolutely not.
There was no way that Michael would ever give me up, especially not for a rival club. He lived for the Satan’s Wings, and his dad was so important to him. How could he betray us like that? He was like my brother.
I suppressed a snort; apparently, family meant little to anyone these days. The thought of telling Mack about his son brought a pain to my chest. How could he?
I looked back down at Garcia to find him breathing quicker and in shorter bursts.
“Why are you telling me this?” I said, mostly in an attempt to keep him alive and talking.
“Baby Weston, you’ve got a lot to learn and I’ve got nothing to lose,” he wheezed. “Besides, I’ve always hated Cameron but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see him in hell.”
He was barely moving his chest now, just lying there motionless.
“Stay with me Garcia. You can’t die on me now.”
I shook him a little but I couldn’t even hear his breaths now. My fingers met his neck and I couldn’t feel a pulse.
“Garcia,” I shouted. “Jose!”
I knew there was no point. He was dead.
“Fuck,” I said to myself.
What was I going to do now?
Hating myself for it, I drove back to the alleyway and climbed out of the van. Thankfully any of Steele’s men that were still alive had left and all that remained now were bodies.
I surveyed the carnage that had resulted from the meet. So much guilt was building up inside me. If I’d realized about Cameron earlier… He was going to pay. I wouldn’t let him get away with manipulating me any longer.
Garcia deserved better, they all did, but I couldn’t do anything about it now. Steeling myself, I heaved Garcia out of the van and placed him close to the other bodies. When he was found in the morning it would look like just another shooting between rival gangs.
How could everything have gone so wrong? The shooting was bad enough but was I really supposed to just believe everything Garcia had spouted to me? He had no reason to lie, not on his deathbed. It would answer the numerous questions I’d had over the past few months about Cameron and the little things that didn’t seem to add up.
Turning on the spot, I took a moment to assess the situation I’d found myself in. It was like everything I’d ever believed was a lie. Cameron killed my dad, Michael had betrayed me, Garcia was dead. I couldn’t wrap my head around it all. I was just a pawn in my uncle’s big plans. My only family left and he’d never cared about me.
I needed to get home. I needed to get to Daria, who knew if she was in any kind of trouble. I’d always known that she was my one vulnerability and I had to get to her as fast as I could.
Climbing on my bike, I sped off towards Springville, praying that I’d already gone through the worst for the night.
Chapter Nineteen
Daria
Where was he?
Sunset had fallen in the town of Springville several hours ago, cloaking the streets with a thick darkness that seemed deeper and more sinister than usual. It was coming up on nine o’clock and normally, the shop would have been closed several hours ago. Not today though. Today I had spent pacing back and forth in Rocky’s shop, paying no heed to any tasks, bills or orders that needed to be taken care of. I had much more important things on my mind.
Where was he?
It had been hours since Rocky left. He’d promised that he’d be back soon but I wasn’t going to believe it until he was standing alive and well in my arms. Tonight was the night that Rocky had planned to meet up with Jason Steele and carry out the hit.
I was beginning to get anxious.
Who was I kidding? I was anxious the second he’d placed a foot out the door.
I turned on my heel and began another lap around Rocky’s workshop. It wasn’t too long ago when I was here pacing exactly like I was now, waiting for Rocky to come back to me. The last time was when Rocky and his uncle had met with Garcia at the warehouse and that had turned out fine so maybe I was just overreacting. He was probably fine anyway. He’d spent a long time talking about how easy a hit that was going to be.
In a way, it churned my stomach to know that Rocky was out trying to kill someone at that very moment. On the other hand, it was Rocky, and I couldn’t ever hide how much I would be willing to overcome to remain with him.
He h
ad insisted that it would be the so simple he would be back by dinner but it was a lot later than what I’d expected. He could’ve just been dishonest for my sake but I had a feeling that Rocky wasn’t purposefully lying to me. He really did think he would get home in time. And that only left a few other possibilities of what had happened, none of them looking too positive.
I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened with fear. Something didn’t feel right. Call it a woman’s intuition or just superstition, I knew something wasn’t right. It had been way too long for Rocky not to come back. And he would’ve called by now if he could.
