Gabriel: The Wild Ones (Jokers MC Book 2)

by Jessie Cooke

  He took a sip of his coffee and smiled up at her. “I’m ready,” he said. He took a few more gulps of the coffee and set it down before picking up his crutches. “I was thinking, we can probably just rent a little trailer and hitch it to the back of the rental car. We can drive back...you still have a week off, right?” She nodded and he said, “We shouldn’t need much room to get your mom’s stuff, so that should work. It’ll just take us a couple of days to get home if we don’t stop too much.” Patrice smiled at him but didn’t say anything. Her mom’s stuff wasn’t going anywhere. She’d make sure and come back to it later...once she figured out who killed her mother, and why.

  21

  Gabe sat in his aisle seat on the airplane, wondering if Patrice would ever speak to him again. He’d been confused when she drove past the storage facility, but he’d gotten really worried when he realized they were headed toward Portland, and the airport. He tried asking questions at that point, but she wasn’t answering them. It wasn’t until she parked the car in the rental return space that she finally turned to him and said, “I’m going to Shreveport. I will not be left out of my own life by a man who believes he should be in control of everything and everyone around him. I bought you a ticket too, but you’re welcome to not go if you don’t want to. All I ask is that you give me time to get out of Maine before you call him.” Gabe hadn’t called Blackheart and he’d gotten on the plane with Patrice. Blackheart was going to kick his ass for this one for sure, but he couldn’t let her go and confront this possibly dangerous man all alone.

  Their flight would take six hours. The drive to Portland and the airport had taken a little over an hour and they’d waited almost two hours for their flight. Those were the most words she spoke to him in that entire amount of time. Gabe stayed silent until they were in the new rental car at the Shreveport airport before saying, “He remembered her.”

  Patrice was about to put the key in the ignition but froze when he said that. She looked over at him, just staring at his face for a long time before finally saying, “All of a sudden?”

  Gabe sighed. He was going to get his ass kicked anyway, so he might as well go all out. “Lowlife said Bernard was kind of obsessed with your mom. But that she came to one of the club parties and didn’t even act like she knew him. That was the night...Blackheart remembered being with her that night.”

  Patrice digested that for several seconds before saying, “What does he mean, obsessed with her?”

  Gabe shook his head, slowly. “I’m not sure, exactly. He said that Bernie used to sit across the street from her house on his bike and watch her for hours, follow her around, stuff like that.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah, from what I’ve heard, he was a weird guy.”

  “Well, I hope we’re going to get a chance to find out face to face,” she said, putting the car in gear. Gabe let her get as far as the freeway before he pulled out his phone and pulled up the internet. She glanced sideways at him, probably thinking that she was texting Blackheart, but he was in too deep for that now. He looked up what he needed and said:

  “I need you to get off at this next exit.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “Trust me?” She didn’t look like she really wanted to, but before they got to the exit, she moved over into the right lane. Once they got to the end of the exit he said, “Make a right and go up about four blocks. I’ll tell you where to turn.” She didn’t say anything but did as he asked. They were about four blocks up when he saw what he was looking for and said, “Turn into this strip mall here.” She did that and he saw the moment it dawned on her what he was going for.

  “A gun shop? You don’t think they’ll just let you walk out with a gun, do you?”

  “Louisiana doesn’t have a waiting period for guns.”

  “Seriously?”

  Gabe laughed. “You did grow up in Louisiana, right?”

  “Yeah, but I never bought a gun...I guess I never knew anyone who did. I thought all states had waiting periods.”

  “Louisiana believes in the Constitution,” he told her with a wink. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Huh-uh,” she said, “I’m coming with you.”

  An hour later they walked out with a shotgun and two handguns, along with enough ammo to start a small war. Gabe didn’t know what they were walking into, but Blackheart had taught him well enough to know not to walk into anything unprepared. Patrice had never shot a gun so the idea of letting her carry one worried him, but lately, telling her no about anything was beginning to worry him even more.

  “You think they were lying?” It was about an hour after they left the gun shop. They’d driven to the first address Patrice had, an Emma Hebert, and they’d spoken to an elderly man and woman through their front door. Gabe didn’t blame them for not opening their door to two young strangers, but it insulted Patrice, and made her suspicious.

  “I don’t know,” he said, “they seemed sincere.” Patrice had just come right out and asked for Bernard. Gabe doubted that even if the guy were there that he would have come to the door for a couple of strangers. First off, he’d been working undercover for the government at some point, which was a dangerous occupation, and second, Gabe knew that if Blackheart had let him walk away all those years ago, still breathing, that he’d at the very least put the fear of God in the man before he did. He knew no one left the Jokers club with that tattooed patch still on their back. So, a man with a welding scar on his back was bound to be suspicious of people, even if he hadn’t been before. He did doubt somehow however, that a man who would have to be in his fifties by now would still be living with his parents.

  “The old woman had shifty eyes,” Patrice said.

  Gabe laughed. The old woman had peered out at them through the frosted glass in the door, dark eyes scrunched up and surrounded by a pair of round, dark-green framed glasses. Behind those eyes all they could really see was the top of the old man’s head. The old woman’s eyes had looked suspicious, but “shifty” wouldn’t be the word he would have used. “Yeah, baby, I guess she did,” he said.

  The drive between the two addresses took them another twenty-five minutes. The sun was just beginning to go down as they pulled the car up in front of the 1970s style brick house. It was one of those ’70s mini-mansions with dark-tinted floor-to-ceiling windows, dark paneling, and bricks going up the sides. The lawn was neatly manicured and a row of neatly trimmed rose bushes lined the flowerbeds along the front of the house. Patrice knocked on the door and Gabe stood slightly behind her with one hand resting on the gun he had tucked in the back of his jeans. They waited several seconds and when no one answered her knock, she rang the doorbell, and again, they waited. After several minutes, and another ring of the doorbell Gabe said, “I don’t think they’re here, babe.”

  “Do you know how to pick a lock?”

  Gabe nearly choked. Chuckling nervously he said, “I probably could, but you really don’t want to end up in jail for breaking and entering, do you?”

  “If we can get a look inside, maybe we can figure out if it’s him before he even gets here.”

  “And if we do?”

  “We wait for him to come home and make him tell us what he knows about my mother’s death. If he’s responsible we kill him and dump him in the river with cement shoes on.”

  Still smiling at her Gabe shook his head slightly and said, “I think you have our club confused with the mob.”

  She smiled at him then and said, “I’m kidding...sort of. But seriously, if it is him, do you think he’ll just admit it? Going in now will give us a jump...” The sound of the car driving into the driveway stopped her and startled them both. The man staring at them through the driver’s side window of the late model BMW didn’t look happy to have company and when he stepped out and Gabe saw how big he was, he began to wish he’d overridden Patrice and somehow forced her to wait for Blackheart and the other Jokers to arrive. “Is it him?” she whispered. Gabe shrugged. He wished now he
’d asked Blackheart or Lowlife what the guy looked like. The man coming toward them was definitely the right age and both of his big arms were covered in tattoos. His dark hair lay curled against his shirt collar and he had a neatly manicured beard and mustache. He had a scowl on his face and when he was about six feet away, Gabe was glad he’d left his kutte in the car.

  “Who are you?” he asked, rudely.

  Before Gabe could speak Patrice said, “My name is Patrice Cormier.” The scowl on the man’s face changed to a look of surprise. He studied Patrice’s face for a long while before looking at Gabe and saying:

  “And you are?”

  “He’s with me,” she said.

  Gabe smiled again and shook his head. Holding out his hand he said, “Name’s Gabriel Broussard.” The man looked at his hand for a long time. Gabe almost dropped it before the man’s big hand reached out and took it and asked:

  “Any relationship to Raoul Broussard?”

  “My paw,” Gabe said. “You knew him?”

  The man nodded. “I went to school with him, and your mother...I believe? Susan?” Gabe nodded and he said, “You look like her.” He looked back at Patrice then and with a sour look on his face he said, “And you look like your father, unfortunately.”

  “Then you do know who my father is?”

  He chuckled, but not happily. “Yes,” he said. “Unfortunately. What do you want with me?”

  “Can we go inside and talk?” Patrice asked. Gabe quickly said:

  “We can talk here.”

  The man looked from one to the other of them and said, “Leave that gun you’ve got your hand on out here and let me make sure neither one of you are packing anything else before we go inside.”

  Gabe took the gun out of his waistband, and holding it by one finger he held it out to his side. Bernard took it and then held his hand out in Patrice’s direction. When she didn’t offer anything up at once he said, “I assume you’re here about what happened to your mother. If you expect me to talk to you, you’ll damned sure hand over your gun.”

  She sighed, bent down, and unzipped her boot. She’d stuck the small .22 caliber handgun in there, and Gabe was almost as relieved as Bernie was when she gave it up. Bernie lay both guns down on a chair near the front door and then said, “Hands on the wall.” Gabe immediately assumed the position; it wasn’t his first time being patted down. Patrice looked indignant and Gabe thought she was going to refuse, but by the time Hebert had patted him down and found nothing, she’d turned and put her hands against the front door. Gabe kept a close eye on the man as he patted her down, making sure his hands didn’t linger anywhere they shouldn’t. When he finished he reached in front of her and unlocked the door and said, “Come on in.” Patrice stepped in first and Gabe quickly followed, not liking that Hebert had them walk in cold like that. They didn’t know who else was in the house...maybe the “George” that was listed as owning the house. The big guy came in behind them and switched on the light in the foyer. After dropping his keys on a small table there he said, “Come on in the living room.” They followed him through an opening and into a small, but comfortable-looking, living space. He waved an arm at a small sofa and they sat down. He took a seat in a chair opposite them and then looking at Patrice he said, “What is it you want from me?”

  She opened her mouth but before she could straight up ask him if he killed her mother Gabe said, “Can you tell us how you knew Kasey Cormier?”

  He could see Patrice give him a look out of the corner of his eye but he ignored it. Bernie’s focus was on him now and he said, “I didn’t really know her. I was ‘watching’ her.”

  “For what?” Gabe asked.

  “For whom?” Patrice added.

  “I was hired by her father. I had skills I learned in the army that made me good at things like private investigation. I met Kasey’s father at a political rally and one day he called me and asked me to follow his daughter.”

  “Why would he want his daughter followed?” Patrice asked.

  “And you were part of the Jokers back then, right?” Gabe put in. “Why were you renting yourself out as some kind of detective?”

  Bernard had a smirk on his face as he said, “I was never really a Joker. I was there doing the same thing I was doing for Congressman Cormier...gathering information.”

  “Did Blackheart know that?”

  He cocked an eyebrow and said, “He figured it out, ultimately.” The big guy stood up then and Gabe tensed. Oddly, however, he pulled off his shirt. His chest and abdomen were covered in scars, but none of them as shocking as the one they saw when he turned around. On his back were thick, raised bands of tissue that looked like rope. Whoever had removed his tattoo hadn’t done a clean job of it. Gabe wasn’t shocked, but one look at Patrice and he could tell that she was.

  “Blackheart did that to you?” she asked, in a small, tremulous voice.

  “He had it done,” he said, pulling his t-shirt back on before turning around to face them. “And then I was told to never return to New Orleans. I kept my end of that deal.”

  “If you were working for the authorities, why wasn’t he arrested?” Patrice asked. Gabe knew it was a valid question, but still, hearing her say it aloud bothered him.

  “I didn’t tell anyone,” he said. “I’m not a fucking idiot. Having a third-degree burn was still preferable to being cut up and fed to the gators in that swamp of his. I was freelancing for the authorities. I told them the heat was getting to be too much and I dipped out.”

  Patrice looked at Gabe, as if asking if that part might be true. Gabe refused to look at her; keeping his eyes on Bernard he said, “What did Kasey’s father want to know about her...I mean, why have you follow a college student around? What did he think she was doing?”

  “It wasn’t what he thought, it was what he knew. Kasey was threatening to talk to the Feds, about her father.”

  22

  “I don’t understand,” Patrice said.

  “Her father, your grandfather, was a crook. He misused his campaign funds. He bribed high-ranking officials. He embezzled money from accounts that had been set up by his father for your mother and her sister. Kasey found out about all of that somehow and when he pressured her about her lifestyle and tried to force her to be the good little Southern belle they wanted her to be, she not only balked, but she threatened to go to the Feds with what information she had. I honestly think your grandmother would have just had her killed. Your grandfather was just hoping she’d change her mind, but had me watching her just in case. Once he was gone, though...well, Granny finally got her way.”

  “What do you mean, she got her way?”

  “Your mama ended up dead, didn’t she?” Gabe shot him another glare and he rolled his eyes and said, “You ever wonder where your aunt and uncle got all that money they’ve lived on all these years? What is it your uncle does for a living again?”

  Gabe could see Patrice’s hand shaking and he reached for it. She let him wrap it up in his and then she said, “He’s a computer tech.”

  “You didn’t wonder how they always drove the most expensive cars on the lot, and lived in that nice house, mortgage free...or could afford to pay cash for your education?”

  “How would you know what they did or could afford to do?” she asked.

  “It was about a year after your mother died that Blackheart ran me off. By that time I was the one in the position to blackmail your family. Your aunt and uncle have been paying me off for years. You don’t think I got this nice place off what the government paid me, do you?”

  Patrice was clenching down on Gabe’s hand so hard that it actually hurt. The color had drained from her face and he was glad she was sitting down because she looked like she might pass out. “You’re saying that my mom...I mean, my aunt and uncle...”

  When she didn’t finish, Bernie finished for her, “I’m saying that they killed her...well, your uncle did anyway. I’m not sure he meant to kill her. Your grandmother sent him there t
o make sure she wasn’t going to tell anyone what she was still holding onto about her father and things got out of hand. I saw him go in the back way, and the sirens were already blaring when I saw him come out. It was later before I found out about Kasey’s untimely death...but I knew there was only one person who could have pulled that off, and that was your dear uncle.”

  Gabe could see the tears forming in Patrice’s eyes. She was probably visualizing the entire thing and it made him sick to his stomach to think about the pain she must be feeling. He wanted to yell at Bernie to stop, but Patrice wouldn’t have been okay with that...she had to hear it all. She needed to know the truth, no matter how badly it was going to hurt. “You didn’t tell the police what you saw?” she finally said. Her voice was so pathetic that it physically hurt him. Her hand had gone slack in his and he knew it was taking all her energy to keep from falling apart.

  “Nah,” he said. “Blackheart and I were already on the outs. I knew he’d figured out it was me who was feeding info to the feds and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he called me on it. I wanted an out, and what I saw that day gave me one...sort of. Unfortunately that asshole caught up to me before I got out of town...but I guess I should be glad he left me alive. I’ve had a pretty fucking good life since then. Before Blackheart took me out behind that shack they call a club, I’d already gone to your grandmother and told her everything I knew. I told her that I had documented it all and if anything happened to me, it would be shared with the authorities. Kasey had just died, and a week before that old woman had buried her husband of forty years...but she didn’t hesitate to ask what I wanted, and before they put poor Kasey in the ground next to her daddy that old woman had shelled out a hundred and fifty grand to me and set your aunt and uncle up in a house in Baton Rouge. I don’t know how long it took her to arrange for them to legally adopt you, but I’m guessing that didn’t take long either. She was terrified that the media was going to find out just how fucked up her family was, and she was desperate to do whatever she had to do to prevent that.”