“Not until you cease your stupidity, Anthony. Daena would be cross with you if she saw you like this.” There was silence for a moment, then Juanita said quietly, “I wasn’t thinking, Spider. I am sorry.”
“She’s been gone a long time, ‘Nita. Don’t worry about it.” Spider sounded subdued, his voice shaking slightly.
Rounding the door, Mason didn’t slow when the condition of the man in the bed hit him, didn’t allow any shock or concern to show on his face. He just walked up and stuck out his hand, reaching down to grip Spider’s thumb. It was about the only part of the man that wasn’t covered in gauze, tape, or plaster.
Glaring up at him, Spider twitched his thumb, either in greeting or an attempt to throw off Mason’s hold. “This is what it takes to get your ass back out here, Prez? One of your own laid up and dying?”
“You’re hardly dying, Spider,” Juanita scolded, rising from the chair near his bedside. “You were, at one point. But it was more passive, less active. You only coded once, they tell me. I’m certain there are still ribs unbroken.” She reached out, rounding the end of the bed, arms going around Mason’s waist from the side. “I can fix that for you. Welcome, Mason. Welcome.”
He released Spider’s thumb and twisted, pulling her around for a proper hug. “Hey, pretty lady. How are you holding up? I didn’t know you’d added nursing to your extensive skillset.”
She pulled back without answering, and he let her, watching as she made her way to Fury. “Hello, Gabe. I’m so glad you’re here.” Her hold on him was just as tight, and Mason watched Fury’s eyes close when he wrapped his arms around her in response. “Family shouldn’t be strangers.” Mason turned away, giving them a moment as he studied Spider.
He’d been beaten, that much was clear from looking at him. Fractured arm, broken ribs, and most of those were likely from before someone was humping on his chest to try and get his heart restarted. Burns, a lot of them, over his torso, neck, and face. Bruises, blooming and dying, those fading to yellow gave him a timeline. Whatever had happened to Spider, it had begun nearly as soon as he crossed the bridge.
“Got your fill of looking?” A mouthful of cotton couldn’t have muffled Spider’s words more than they were. Mason winced, feeling pained just listening to him. “Well? You want the story or you come here to put on a striped skirt and play doctor?”
“You up to tellin’ me a story?” He needed to hear it from the source. They knew what Myron had pieced together, but most everyone’s networks fell apart when they hit the border, and tech geeks weren’t any different. Chismoso fed him most of what they knew, him and a surprising source: Silly. The tattoo artist from Chicago still had family back in Mexico, and the memories of Estavez and his men ran long in the village where she’d grown up. “I could cop a squat and give it a listen, old man.”
“You realize if I could get out of this bed, I’d whip your ass, right?” Mason was shocked to see a smirk lift a corner of the man’s mouth, knowing it was as close to a grin as he’d ever seen. “It’s not a long story, won’t take long, Juanita. Stop your frowning. Go get a coffee or something.”
She moved from behind Mason to the other side of the bed, reclaiming her seat. “Stubborn.” Spider turned from her to look at Mason, and the plea on his face was clear. He couldn’t say what he needed to with her there. Mason nodded, but before he could say anything, Juanita sighed. “I know that look, Mason. I’ll take a walk, go to the donation room and sort some clothing for our friend here. The ones he came to us in were tatters, and if he’s as focused on leaving as he seems to be, it’ll save me some time very soon. I’ll give you thirty minutes.” She stood and rested her hand on Spider’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
By unspoken agreement, they waited for the door to close behind her before anyone moved. Spider shifted on the bed and winced. “I got word Tucker was in Juarez. Bold as brass, hanging out in a bar where I go sometimes. I get on with Duck, talk to him a bit. He saved our Bella. Man is worth his weight if you ask me. His woman still struggles with that gal’s death.”
Mason nodded. “Essa. There’re a few of us who do.”
“Yeah. It’s harder when the young are taken from us.” Spider gestured towards the rolling table nearby. “Water.” Fury slid it towards him, then must have realized Spider couldn’t hold the cup and picked it up, angling the straw so the old man could sip. “Sucked in smoke and gas, hell on the throat.” He waved a hand. “So Tucker was there, not ten minutes from US soil, and I went to collect him. He owed us a death, at least one. Time to pay the piper. What I told him when I saw him. Then they were on me. Hadn’t seen ‘em, waiting in the shadows around the room. Cowards. Fucker laughed, but I got my licks in before they torqued me down.” Spider shook his head. “Hauled me to a ranch in the middle of fucking nowhere. You’ll never guess who was there.” He paused, and Mason shook his head.
“Not playin’ guessing games, old man.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t either. I found out I nurtured one traitor and harbored another for years. Decades. Pike.” He turned his eyes towards Fury. “Shoulda killed him instead of cuttin’ him. Learn from your mistakes.” His gaze swung back to Mason. “He had friends with him. They sounded a lot like you.”
“Men from Kentucky?” Mason took the cup from Fury and held it close, letting Spider’s hand rest against his, holding steady as he drank. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yeah. Sounded like you.” What they could see of his face paled, expression turning sad. “Miss Watch, man. More than I’d expect, given how we fought that last year. If I could take it back, take all of it back, I would. New York minute, yank it back and eat it down. Eat my words because he was right.”
Lifting his chin, he stared at Mason for a minute. “You’ll take care of that assmuncher for me, yeah? He did most of this. Never forget the sound of his laugh when he poured the gasoline. Hear it in my head now.” His head dropped back on the pillow and he took a deep breath. “Pike. Something’s wrong in that man, Mason. He feels like Lalo to me.”
“Did you put the cameras on Watcher’s house?” Spider jerked in the bed, head shaking back and forth. “Did you shoot at Watcher on the highway?” Another headshake. “How did you know Lalo?”
“You were a kid when you took over the Rebels. Renamed, we all knew the club still lived, didn’t matter what you called it. For years, I waited for Deacon to take it back. Years. He didn’t, though. Instead, he visited his brand of asshat on every fuckin’ club in the south. His touch spanned from Florida to California, and most of his preachin’ was against you.” Mason knew this already and lifted his hand to cut the man off, Spider beat him to it. “Let me have my say, dammit. You accusing me of bullshit, you need to know what happened. I didn’t do a thing you’ve listed, not one of them. Watcher was my family. Loved the man. Would never have done a thing that could have hurt him.” Mason settled on his heels and nodded. “Deacon came through here a few times, Las Cruces, I mean. After the first one, Watcher barred the doors against him. But I’d meet him and lift a bottle. Us old guys have to stick together. Kids don’t know what it took to be an outlaw back in the day, and we’d talk about shit like that. Talk about rallies we’d hit, places we’d seen. Was only a few years ago Deacon brought Lalo with him. Suches hated everything Deacon told him to, and that included you. That was the last time I sat a meal with Deacon, because his brand of bullshit was so deep he was drowning in it. Lalo was fuckin’ nuts, man. Fuckin’ nuts. And that’s how Pike feels now. You’ll have to deal with him, I suspect.”
“How’d you get Tucker out?”
“That’s a long story. Too long for today. Just know I had help. You need to talk to the Silent Death. That’s an MC that knows more than they’ve ever let on about what’s going on in Mexico, and right now, they’re runnin’ scared. One of them was at that ranch, opened a couple of doors for me and then looked the other way when I clocked Tucker.” Spider shifted again, pain twisting his features. “Got a truck, hau
led him in it a slow inch at a time, trussed him to the gills and kept hittin’ him every time he woke up. Thank God it wasn’t monsoon season. I’d never have gotten him across the bridge if it were.”
Mason tipped his head to one side. “Monsoon season?”
“Yeah, when it’s wet and the river’s up, patrols are not as scattered. Guy I know was on the bridge and he just cussed me out for driving fucked up like I was. Didn’t look too close at the truck.” Mason shook his head. “Tucker was looking for information on something that happened in Colorado a few years ago. I think it had to do with that singer your sister brought down to Texas. Tucker’s owed the Mexican cartel for a long time, said he’s been paying off the interest just to stay ahead of it. He was talkin’ to Pike. Sounded like there was a warehouse that burned, and it came to roost on him for the whole of it.”
“Benny Jones? Tucker knew Benny?” Fury’s question startled both men and Mason turned to look at him. “I thought that story about Colorado was a spun thing, made larger by time.”
“Burned a whole warehouse full of product ready to ship,” Mason confirmed. “We never could figure out who it was set Benny up. Not for lack of looking on Slate’s part. He’ll be interested to know this, if you think Tucker played a part.”
“Don’t think, I know.” Mason frowned. The man’s breathing had changed. Faster, it was nearly a pant. “Fuck, this shit hurts, Mason. Can you get Juanita?”
On his way back with Juanita trailing him, Mason made out murmurs coming from the room. Quiet with a sense of urgency, the sound conveyed that something of importance was happening. As he came through the doorway, he saw Fury leaned over the bed, Spider’s bandaged hand gripping the back of the man’s head, holding him close. Fury nodded and pulled back, but Spider clamped down, keeping him in place, mouth moving.
“I got you, brother.” That was the first either of them had given Spider the word, and Mason recognized it for what it was, acknowledgement that Spider had never betrayed the club. “I got you. We’ll deal with that. He’ll answer for her death.” Fury stood, and Mason looked around him at Spider, locking gazes with the old man as Fury repeated, “He’ll answer for everything he’s done.”
Unfriendly as fuck
Fury
“What’d he have to say there before we left?” Mason’s question didn’t surprise Fury; he’d been expecting it.
“Reason he’s been rolling south for these many years.” Fury motioned towards the driver, keeping his hands low, out of sight of the rearview mirror. “I’ll tell you when we get to the Otey compound.”
Mason nodded and turned, staring out the side window. Fury did the same on his side of the van. Silence filled the rest of their drive.
“We’re here now. Tell me what Spider said.” Mason’s voice was gruff and quiet. His tone said he felt he had waited patiently.
Fury turned to watch as the van drove up the long driveway, a plume of dust rising in an arc along its wake. “Spider said he had every reason to believe Tucker and Diamond both had a hand in his old lady’s wreck. Said he’d had questions about Diamond for a while, but first Watcher, and then Opie, had put his concerns down to being his grief talking. His old lady had no reason to be in Mexico that night, none at all. No reason to be on that bridge. Diamond’s girlfriend was watching their kids, and Spider said that was not a normal occurrence. We know Spider went to Florida to bring Diamond’s bike back. We assumed that meant some kind of partnership agreement between the two men. According to Spider, that is not the case.”
Mason swept the area with his gaze, then turned back and faced Fury. “So, you’re sayin’ everybody had it wrong? Every one of us had it wrong? Do you put yourself in that group?”
“Fuck, yeah. I was definitely on the wrong side of the fence where Spider’s concerned. But you cannot tell me that you looked at that old man lying in that bed, broke up, beaten and burned near to death so he could bring an enemy of the club back to us, and you didn’t waver in your previous doubts. You cannot tell me you looked at him and didn’t believe.” He stared at Mason.
Mason scoffed, gaze angled down. He stood like that for a moment, and Fury wondered what was going through his head. “Spider only gave you part of the truth. I guarantee. If Juanita would’ve let me dope him up a little, we might have gotten a straight story out of him. But she didn’t, which leaves us with only one other person to talk to.” Mason lifted his chin and stared Fury in the face. “Are you letting Spider be the shot caller on this play? That, my brother—” Mason shook his head. “—is not his role.”
“Mason, you have no idea what you’re doing.” He was staggered when hot anger flared in Mason’s eyes at his words and angled backwards until his shoulders hit the wall. He squared up and persisted. “This is not me passing on responsibility. This is me trying to do what you told me you needed.” He took a deep breath. “If you go back there like this, you’ll end him before we get what we need. We’re in agreement, we can’t get it from Spider, which means we got just one source to plumb. Take a breath, brother. Take a deep fucking breath.”
Mason shook his head, silently rejecting the idea. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I know exactly how I’m doing it. I know exactly what he don’t want me to know.” Taking an aggressive step forward, Mason’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “Tucker has eluded me for far too long, Fury.” He lifted one fist and flipped the long finger out, pointing out the window to Watcher’s house. “Me finding out he had anything to do with that man’s death? Signed his own warrant.”
Fury stayed still and silent. He waited. Waited until it was clear Mason was finished talking. And then, he waited some more. Finally, Mason rocked back on his heels, and fingers unclenching, he shoved his hands in his back pockets. “You have no idea. None. You’re a man who’s lived his life, exactly how he wanted to. No regrets. Nothing wrong in your rearview. You got no idea what it’s like to live in my head, knowing that I let Tucker walk away not once but twice. If it comes out he worked with Diamond on this…? He won’t walk away a third time.”
Mason couldn’t be more wrong. He don’t know me at all. Fury’s regrets were many, so fucking many it seemed he could drown under the weight of them sometimes. Your sister my greatest regret of all. “I would expect nothing less, brother.” Mason would do whatever was needed, and so would Fury. He looked towards the back of the barn, where the small circle of men stood, waiting for this conversation to be over. “We doing this right now, Mason?”
“Yeah, let’s get it over with.” Mason turned on his heel and walked towards the group. His stride was easy and long, unburdened by the emotion that had gripped him a moment ago. Fury lengthened his steps and caught up with Mason. As they had at the church, they walked in sync, two men—one purpose.
***
Fury winced and shook his hand, droplets of blood flinging to the shifting sands beneath his boots. He let go of Tucker’s neck and allowed the man to fall to the floor, sprawled on his back. Glancing up and around the room, instead of censure, all he saw were expressions of sympathy and support. He didn’t know if this was a true turning of tides for the attitudes he’d been dealing with, or if it was due to Mason standing directly behind him. Whatever it was, he would take it all day long. Looking down, he jabbed the toe of one boot roughly into Tucker’s ribs, growling when he received no response.
Mason rested a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back two paces, his mutter quiet, but Fury knew every man in the barn heard him say, “Let him come back to himself. Don’t waste your efforts when there’s nothing to be gained. Give him a few minutes, and he’ll be with us.”
Fury nodded, accepted a bottle of water from Opie, and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he lifted and drank. He was exhausted. They had been working on Tucker for more than six hours. The sun had finally set, and the brutal heat of the New Mexico summer was beginning to bleed off as the barn cooled. The man had slipped away from them for the third time in as many hours, and Fury took this chance to
steady his breath. He finished the water, handing the empty back to Opie. The three of them were standing in a rough circle, towering over Tucker’s body. Fury checked and saw the man’s chest rising and falling shallowly. Still breathing.
“We gettin’ anything we can use, Mason? Fury’s doin’ his job, but I’m less convinced that this guy can be broken. I mean—” Opie gestured towards the prone figure on the floor. “—look at ‘em. We know what it took for Slate to get what he needed, and that was years ago. He’s a hard motherfucker.”
Spreading the fingers on his right hand, Fury clenched them into a fist again, feeling the ache settling in. He studied Tucker for a moment, surveying the damage wrought by his blows. Face nearly untouched, because they needed him able to talk, and needed to be able to understand any words spoken, Fury had been working his body hard. Kidneys were an obvious target, as were fingers, elbows, knees, and ankles. Nothing damaged in a lasting way, not yet, because a man without hope wouldn’t have a reason to talk.
Mason’s phone rang and he stepped back, pulling it from his pocket. He squinted at the device, then swiped across it, lifting it to his ear. “Yeah?” Whatever was said on the other end had an immediate effect and Fury watched as Mason stilled, freezing in place. “You’re sure? You talked to him?” A pause and Fury became aware all conversations had halted. When he glanced around, every eye was on Mason. “Be certain, brother.” That made sense, because whoever it was had to be inner circle—Mason wouldn’t have taken the call otherwise. “Copy. Thanks, man. Tell him we owe him.” Mason’s mouth twitched to the side. “Yeah, Myron. I know exactly what those words mean. Tell Sparks we owe him.”
Mason was staring down at Tucker as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, expression contemplative. “We don’t need you anymore, Tucker.” Movement from the floor drew Fury’s attention, and he saw Tucker was wide awake, staring up at Mason. “Got what I needed from your ex-crew in Florida. Them boys don’t care much for you. All the bullshit you pulled there, drawing down Fed attention to the club, man…that did not make you any friends.”
Fury (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 11) Page 27
