by Lexy Timms
Chapter 25
Talon
I dove into traffic on my bike, weaving between cars, passing on the right side. Now that I had a destination, the clock ticked even louder. I had to find her.
I had called Knox. When he'd answered, he'd sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. I didn't mention the money, I didn't even think of it. I told him what I needed and what was at stake and he got down to business immediately. He'd said he couldn't get the information I was looking for, but he had some FBI friends who probably could. He'd called me back in only twenty minutes with an answer. They must have been pretty good friends.
Knox had asked them to look on all the street and highway cameras in the area for Whip and Whitey's motorcycles and for the black van from yesterday. The street cameras could identify license plates. Whitey's was easy. Whitey. Whip's wasn't personalized, so it wasn't so easy, but I'd washed and polished that motorcycle so many times when I was a prospect I had it memorized.
Knox had called back saying the black van hadn't been seen all day, but Whitey's motorcycle had been spotted heading North under the Chestnut St. overpass an hour ago, and Whip's motorcycle had been driven south off the Westwood off-ramp three hours ago. That put them both within a mile of the industrial area. And that gave me a place to start.
The warehouse that Whip owned that no one knew about.
But the kicker, the one thing that was really confusing me, was the last thing he'd told me.
"Knox, how did you get ahold of that life insurance deed, and what made you think it was pertinent?" I'd said.
"What are you talking about?"
"In the packet you sent me with the tax information on the warehouse. It had that, Whip's rap sheet, and the life insurance deed on his wife."
"Talon, I didn't include any life insurance deed. I sent over the tax form and the rap sheet, but that was it."
I'd hung up then, knowing it had to have been someone at the club who had put it in there. Whitey. But if Whitey knew something, why hadn't he just come out and told me? Everyone's mouth was sewn shut for some reason.
I was fifteen miles away, but closing in fast. The only weapon I had on me was a utility knife on my belt, but I didn't dare drive to the clubhouse for a gun. I couldn't take the time. The only two people I would have asked for help, Rams and Jaze, were gone. It was all starting to feel like one giant setup that had started a month ago, and I had no idea who the players were.
None of it mattered though. I would improvise. If I found the man who had taken Crystal I would kill him with my bare hands. I had done it before in a war I used to believe in.
But what would I do when I found Whitey, or Whip?
I had no idea.
I cut my speed as I entered the industrial area, not wanting to alert anyone to my presence. A block away from the old warehouse building, I parked my bike and walked, eyeing the parking lot for cars, for bikes, for movement, for anything.
A chain link fence surrounded the building and large parking lot. Smaller storage buildings were lined up along the far side of the fence, but other than them, everything seemed deserted. I wouldn't allow the bitter tastes of disappointment and desperation to fill my mouth until I'd been inside and found it empty.
I stole up to the front door of the quiet building. My intuition was quiet, meaning I was probably ok, for now. I tried the door but it was locked. It hadn't been locked the last time I'd been through here.
I examined the lock and the heavy double doors that met in the middle. It was an old building, and I wouldn't even have to pick the lock. I pulled out my knife and jammed it between the two doors, quietly working it back and forth between the two latches until I had them both pried open and the door free. It would have gone quicker without my riding gloves, but my gut told me to leave them on.
I squeezed inside, shutting the door behind me, then standing very still and holding my breath.
I heard talking.
Jackpot.
I snuck down the corridor, scanning the floors and empty rooms I passed for a weapon. Anything heavy enough to brain someone with. I saw nothing but trash, leaves, and the occasional piece of furniture.
I still couldn't make out the words, but I knew the person talking was not someone I'd ever heard before. Black van guy? My nerves went on lockdown, my entire body tensed and ready for what I instinctively knew would be a fight to the death.
Please God, let Crystal be the one to make it out of here alive.
I reached the open door where the voice was coming from and I stopped outside, pressed against the wall, listening. From my vantage point, all I could see was one small, empty corner of the room. It looked like all the others I had passed. Empty. Dark. Dead.
"... all they know is you've been keeping an awful lot of secrets. Secrets from everyone." The man made several tsk noises with his tongue. "Such a bad idea."
I had to get a visual. Had to take the risk. Before I could move, I heard Whip's voice. He sounded farther away than the other man, and different, like he was facing me and the other man was facing away.
"I can't change what happened, Bulldog. I made a bad decision. We all did."
I pressed my nose against the wall, and slowly dragged my face to the left. More of the room came into view of my one eye, as the side of my head became visible to anyone in the room.
"Yeah, we all did, didn't we?"
The man snorted, but the direction of his voice didn't change. My left eye cleared the doorway and I could see everything in the tiny room but the far right, inner corner. Whip stood against the far wall, his arm stretched out from his body, his hand handcuffed to a heavy workbench. Another man stood opposite him, with his back to me. He was tall, thin, wiry, with brown hair. Black van man. Bulldog.
My movement caught Whip's attention and our eyes met. He looked away quickly, and I pulled back behind the cover of the door.
Before I could think about what I had seen, formulate a plan, Bulldog appeared in the doorway, gun in hand, pointed at my belly.
"Talon, is it? Come on in, join the party."
I scanned his face. Old, weathered, bandage over one eye. A combination of wisdom and cynicalness that tipped me off to the probability that he was a veteran. Probably Vietnam with Whip and Whitey. Which made him a thousand times more dangerous.
I walked inside and stopped half-way in.
"Lift your arms, let me see."
I lifted my cut, showed him all the places I could have a gun hidden, then turned and did it again.
"Pockets."
I pulled them out, holding the tiny utility knife in my hand. He ignored it. It was nothing against a gun.
He made the tsk noise again. "Didn't even bring a weapon. Watching you ride yesterday, I would have thought you were smarter than that."
"Where's Crystal?" I demanded.
Bulldog smiled. "Ask her dad."
I turned to Whip, my face hard. If I could have killed him with my eyes, I would have.
Whip shook his head. "I don't know, Talon, I swear. He's lying. When he came in he said she was alive, but not for long." His voice shook on the last word.
Something inside me broke. I didn't know who or what to believe, but the thought of anyone threatening Crystal made my body heat up and my hands clench into fists so tight my palms ached.
"Where the fuck is she?" I said again, slowly, forcing each syllable through my vocal cords.
"Ah, that's sweet," Bulldog said, turning to Whip. "Isn't it? This your future son-in-law? Or is your daughter the club whore?"
I took a murderous step towards him and he raised the gun to eye level. "Come on now, Talon. That's not how this works. You move again and I have to blow your brains out. Then who's going to save your whor—oops, excuse me, your innocent girlfriend from the quick and painless death her father ordered for her?"
Whip shook his head. "Talon, I swear, I didn't. He's making this up. He's got an agenda."
"Shut up old man!" Bulldog yelled. "That's my fucking age
nda, that you shut the fuck up and quit your scheming for once in your life."
I didn't know who or what to believe, and for now, I didn't care. I just wanted to find Crystal.
A noise from the hallway caught all our attentions.
"It's just me," a voice called and I recognized it as Whitey.
I guess that part was settled. Whitey was definitely in on it, whatever it was.
My club was corrupted by a founding member, someone was killing people, and I might be next.
Chapter 26
Talon
Whitey entered the room looking tired and disgusted. "What the fuck are you gonna do with Talon, Bulldog? He's not part of this."
"Shut up, Whitey. He's part of it now."
Whitey walked in front of me and turned to face Bulldog. "He's not. He was just trying to help his friends. Just being loyal."
"Yes, that's all very noble of him," Bulldog sneered. "But he's here now and that makes him part of it."
Whitey shook his head. "I've had enough Bulldog. I'm done with this."
"Then you're dead."
"Yeah, don't I know it." Whitey turned around to face me. I'd never seen him look quite so sad. "Jaze is—"
The room exploded with sound as Bulldog shot Whitey in the back. He fell onto me, his mouth working soundlessly.
"No, Whitey!" I cried, lowering him to the ground, my mind screaming I must be shot too. A bullet at that close range had to have gone right through him and into me. I felt no pain as I crouched and cradled Whitey's head in my hands.
No physical pain.
"Ah, God, Bulldog, what did you do?" Whip screamed.
Bulldog didn't respond. I brushed Whitey's hair back from his face and watched him struggle to speak. "Remember the cellar," he said, and then his eyes closed for the last time.
I dropped my head onto Whitey's chest. I was no closer to knowing what was going on, but I'd lost a friend.
"Bulldog, what are you going to do? Shoot us all?" Whip's voice was frantic. I checked Whitey's pulse, just to be sure. Still. Silent.
My eyes fell on a familiar shape under Whitey's cut. I moved my body to the left and put my hand inside the cut, feeling the cold steel of the gun immediately. I ran my fingers along its length as Bulldog yelled something back at Whip. My mind focused only on the gun. I wouldn't get more than one chance.
I press-checked the chamber. Bullet. I checked the magazine. There. My fingers felt along the safety, finally determining it was engaged. I dropped it to the disengaged position and tuned back in to the killer behind me.
He was pacing, moving, his voice high and demanding. But none of his focus was on me. Now. Or never.
I curled my fingers around the gun and put an ounce of pressure on the trigger, then pulled it smoothly out of the interior pocket of the cut. I rolled in one motion, letting my body do the work, my fingers do the sighting. I pulled the trigger three times.
Bulldog fell down, mid-sentence.
"Ah fuck, Talon. You got him." Whip's voice was sad. Old. Resigned.
Yeah, I got him, but Whitey was still dead, Crystal and Jaze were still missing. I crossed the room in a heartbeat and tore Bulldog's gun out of his fingers, placing it by his feet. I held the gun I'd taken from Whitey to his temple and checked his pulse. Silent. Dead.
I stood, looking at the gun in my hand and thinking long and hard. We needed cops, but if I called them, they would arrest me. Even though it was self-defense, I knew I would walk away in handcuffs until they questioned me and Whip.
Crystal.
I walked back to Whitey and placed the gun on the ground next to him, then headed out of the room.
"Talon, wait, let me out of here! He said there was no key but you can pick the lock, I know you can."
I turned to face him. "Do you know where Crystal is?"
He shook his head.
"You swear Whip? You swear on Whitey's soul you don't know where Crystal is?"
"I swear Talon. I would never hurt my baby."
I took a moment to consider that, but I couldn't believe him. I didn't trust him anymore. He'd done that to me.
"I'm going to find her."
His face creased and he nodded. "I understand," was all he said.
I turned and left.
***
Talon
I walked the entire first floor, checking every door for a cellar. My mind played Whitey's last words over and over again, worrying them. A building like this wouldn't have a cellar, it would have a basement. But it didn't seem to have either. I thought I might know somewhere that did have a cellar though, somewhere that Whitey would have known I knew about.
I broke my pace and began to run to the door. I would find her. I had to.
I pushed my way into the sunshine, the afternoon light that didn't care two men were lying dead behind me. My bike was to the left, but the long, sloped delivery entrance only went to the right. I vaulted over the railing in front of me to shave precious seconds off my exit.
In the air, a flash of circular light caught my eye. I landed on my feet, almost turned away, almost ignored it, but the pull was too strong. I turned and scanned the far part of the parking lot looking for it. I walked slowly in the direction that I'd seen it. As I got closer, I saw what it was. A coin. A large, dull, copper-colored challenge coin, like the big bosses handed out in the military. It never should have caught the light in the way I had seen.
I approached it and picked it up, my stomach clenching. Crystal's coin. I looked around, seeing nothing out here, nowhere it could have come from.
I sprinted to the closest storage shed and ripped the door open. Whitey's bike, and Whip's bike. I shuffled to the next one, my heart feeling so heavy in my chest it threatened to topple me.
Empty.
I walked to the last one, noting the silver lock on it. Suspicious, but this shed was nowhere big enough to hold the black van he'd driven yesterday. Maybe a small car. Definitely a woman. "Crystal," I called.
Silence echoed back to me.
I pulled my knife out of my pocket and opened the tiny pry bar, pulling out the free standing lock pick. I'd never picked a lock like this, but I knew the mechanics behind it, knew it could be done. I pushed the pick in and worked the tumblers. It was easier than I had thought it would be. I pulled it off and flung it away, then opened the doors, my heart in my throat, the weight of my hope cutting off my breath.
A tiny sedan was squeezed into the space, with barely enough room for a person to open the driver's side door.
"Crystal!" I scooted sideways against the wall, looking in the windows. The car was empty.
I pulled open the driver's side door. I had one more chance. I pulled the lever marked trunk and swallowed hard as it popped open.
I scooted between the wall and the car and there she was. My Crystal. My Gidget. Motionless, curled up.
I held my breath and pressed my fingers to her pulse. Thank God! An ocean of relief washed over me. I stripped off my gloves, needing to touch her.
"Crystal, baby, wake up. I pulled her into my arms and smoothed her hair down, covered her face with kisses.
She didn't respond. I pressed my head to her chest, alarmed when I didn't hear a breath. I held my own again for a long minute, before she took a slow, shallow breath. Fuck! Whatever he had her on was slowing her breathing.
I pulled her out of the trunk, laid her on the ground, and looked at her, unsure what to do next. Ambulance! I pulled my phone out of my pocket and gave the address to the dispatcher, telling her my girlfriend was having trouble breathing. Anything more was sure to bring the cops too, and I couldn't deal with them yet. I had to get Crystal safe, maybe still follow my hunch.
I pinched her arm but she didn't respond. I shook her. Still nothing. Finally, I found the nerve where her neck met her shoulder and pressed it, hating myself for it.
"Uhhhh," she moaned brushing at me with her hand.
"Crystal, wake up, it's me, Talon."
"Talo," she mumbled
, her hands fluttering in the air then dropping to her sides. "Luh you."
I pressed the nerve again. "Crystal, stay with me, I need you."
This time her cry belied her pain and I let go, knowing I couldn't do it again. Her eyes fluttered, but didn't stay open. She lay slack on the concrete.
"Crystal, wake up honey, I need you here."
I heard sirens. Thank God.
Her head moved slightly and her hand fluttered to my chest. "Talo." She pursed her lips and tried again, her eyes still closed. "Talon. Love you. Sorry."
All the tension in my body flooded out of me and I felt every rock roll off of me. "Don't be sorry honey, don't ever be sorry. You didn't do anything. It was me."
"Well, duh," she said so softly I could barely hear her. Her hand dropped to the ground again. I held it and looked up at the ambulance pulling into the parking lot.
I would have to give them my girl and trust that she was safe. I still had one more job to do before the cops could have me.
Chapter 27
Talon
"411 E. Frontier St. There's been a shooting."
I pressed end call on the phone and dropped it into my pocket, cutting off the dispatcher's pleas for more information.
I watched the ambulance turn left out of the parking lot, heading to the hospital. I said a prayer for Crystal and started my bike, turned right, and headed out to the country.
Only a few minutes into my ride, I felt my phone vibrate against my chest. Ignore it? No.
I pulled over and checked it. Whip. Which made absolutely no sense.
"Hello?" I could hear sirens in the background. The cops arriving at the warehouse.
"Talon. I'll make this quick. You didn't shoot him. I did."
"What?"
"Look, I know it's just one more secret, but if you have any trust at all left for me, just go with me on this. You didn't shoot him. I did. I don't want this to hang over your head. We both know it was self-defense. Totally justified. But we also both know the prosecutor's office doesn't always see things the way they are, especially when it comes to the MC."
