SAINT: Kings of Carnage MC - Prospects

by Nicole James

  Shades offers his hand, and Saint shakes it. Saint nods to another man. “Ghost. Good to see you again.”

  “And who’d you bring with you?” Shades asks.

  “This is my wife, Kami. Kami, this is Shades, VP of the Evil Dead’s Birmingham chapter.”

  “Nice to meet you, darlin’.” His eyes move to the two men sitting. “Let the lady sit, assholes.”

  The one closest offers me his seat.

  “So, what’s your problem, prospect? How can we help?”

  Saint explains about the robbery, and what leads we have.

  One of them whistles. “You’re in a world of shit, boy.”

  Saint runs his hand through his hair. “If I don’t get that money back and in the bank by Monday, I’m finished. I can kiss my patch good bye, and they might bury my dead body in a ditch for good measure.”

  Shades quirks a brow. “It’s what I’d do, kid.”

  Saint runs a hand down his face and huffs a laugh. “So any help you can give me would be appreciated.”

  Shades nods, then flicks his eyes to me. “And why is she here?”

  “I saw what they looked like.” I meet his gaze.

  The man leaning against the credenza with his arms folded, rocks back. “So why don’t you tell us your version, sweetheart?”

  “They were driving a Ford LTD. I didn’t see the plates, but there was a Birmingham radio station bumper sticker on the back.”

  “What radio station?”

  “Who the fuck cares what radio station, Ghost?” Shades snaps.

  “Hey, could be a lead.” Ghost looks from Shades to me, waiting.

  “Um, WDXX.”

  “That’s a Spanish station. I’ve seen billboards for it.” Ghost arcs a brow at Shades, who looks at me.

  “Ignoring the radio bullshit, tell us about the guy who stuck a gun in that pretty face of yours.”

  “He wore a ski mask, but his eyes were dark, and there was a teardrop tattoo on his cheek.”

  The men look at each other. Shades turns back to me. “Standard prison ink. What else, darlin’?”

  I try to think. I close my eyes and recall those terrifying moments. And then it pops in my head. “He had no sleeves and there was a tattoo on his arm. I remember staring at it so I wouldn’t have to stare at the barrel of that gun.”

  “What was the tattoo?”

  “Like a weird symbol.”

  “Can you draw it?” Shades slides a pen and scrap of paper across the desk.

  “I’ll try.” I make a sketch and stare at it. “Yes, that was it.”

  The men look down at what’s on the paper.

  >ll_oo 90

  “Mean anything to you?” Shades looks at Ghost.

  “Nope.”

  “Anybody?” Shades glances at the other men, but they shake their heads.

  “Wait a minute.” Ghost snaps his fingers and points to the sketch on the paper. “That’s K-Loc 90. I guarantee it.”

  “Who?” Shades frowns.

  “That bunch downtown. That shit’s tagged all over the place down there. They have that backwards K. She mistook the second letter for an o instead of a c. Simple mistake.”

  “I think you’re right. Gotta be them.”

  “Who’s K-Loc 90?” Saint asks.

  “A group originally out of Columbia. They took root in the US prison system,” Ghost explains.

  Shades nods. “They’re starting to cut into our territory. Been getting too big for their britches for the last six months. We’ve been meaning to do something about ‘em, they just weren’t causing us too much trouble, and so we let it slide down the list of priorities. But we owe you one, so it’s a two-birds-one-stone kind of deal for us.”

  “Whatever your reasons, I’m glad for the help.”

  Shades turns to one of the other men. “Slick, use your connections. Find out whatever you can on them. I need the name of their leader and a location.”

  “I’m on it.” He moves to the door.

  “Griz, get us loaded for bear. No pun intended.” Shades grins.

  “Asshole. I’m on it. You want the semi-automatics?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  Shades pulls out a bottle of whiskey and pours four shots, then passes them around. He lifts his glass. “Here’s to shootin’ straight.”

  I grin, and he winks at me. We all down them. I grimace and the men laugh. We’re barely done when Slick comes back in.

  “Found it.”

  “That was quick.”

  “Pays to have connections in the State Bureau of Investigations. They’ve had these guys in there sights for a while. Leaders name is Carlos Vargas. Goes by Los.” He carries in a laptop and flips it open. “They’re runnin out of this body shop, though it’s more of a chop shop.”

  Shades squints at the screen. “Where the fuck is that?”

  “Inglenook.”

  “Fucking hell.” Shades meets Slick’s gaze. “They tell you anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  “Darlin’ you mind waiting outside.”

  I look to Saint, and he nods. I stand.

  “Ghost, show her to the bar and have the prospect get her a drink.”

  I’m escorted to the bar and I ask the prospect for a cola.

  Ten minutes later, more men start to show up, and I get the feeling they’ve been called in. Many are yawning, and they look like they’ve only gotten a short amount of sleep. I’m beginning to realize that most bikers are awake at night and sleep away the daylight hours.

  I wonder if this K-Loc 90 gang is the same. It appears the plan is to move on them soon, and it’s only now just 6am.

  Saint and the others troop out into the main room. Saint makes a beeline for me, cupping my neck and pulling me to him. He presses a kiss to my forehead, then presses his forehead to mine and stares into my eyes.

  “We’re heading out.”

  “Please don’t do this,” I plead. “I have more jewelry. I can sell it. I can get you that money.”

  “Kami, I appreciate the offer. I do, but do you really think I’d let you sell your mother’s and grandmother’s jewelry? Fuck no.”

  “I don’t want you to be killed. Please, they have guns.”

  “We’ve got guns, too.”

  “That’s what terrifies me.”

  “Babe, I’ll be okay. I need to know you’re here and safe. Worrying about you could distract me. Understand?”

  The words of argument die in my throat at his reasoning. I don’t want him distracted either. I nod.

  “You’ll do as I say?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll try to get your necklace back, I promise.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t care about that. I just want you safe and back in one piece.”

  He kissed my forehead again, looks into my eyes, and then strokes his thumb over my mouth. He says nothing. He makes no promises about returning to me in one piece, and it hits me that he can’t promise that. He’s my knight, my savior, and right now I need him bulletproof. I need him to promise me everything will be okay, but all I can do is watch him follow the others outside, as he jerks on a pair of black gloves.

  I see men carrying all manner of weapons, and say a quick prayer for them all. They’re all risking their lives to help Shades and Ghost payback a favor they feel they owe Saint. On the drive over, he explained how he’d helped them after an accident. I wasn’t at all surprised by his noble behavior. That’s just the kind of man he is, and that’s why I love him. I stare at the door, the clubhouse now quiet, except for the bikes firing up outside. I suddenly realize I have no idea what I would do if something happens to Saint. I don’t even want to contemplate him not returning. I check the clock and begin to count the minutes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Saint—

  We find the chop shop. There’s a residence across the street, the Feds say belongs to the leader. We see gang tags all over. Being that it’s early on a Sunday morning, there’s little m
ovement anywhere in the neighborhood. The club lent me a ride, and we leave our bikes a couple blocks over, not wanting to give away our approach with the thundering engines. The Evil Dead is a well-oiled machine, I’m finding. They all know their place in this well rehearsed dance, like they’ve done this kind of thing a hundred times before. A couple of men are left to guard the Harleys, and as we jog toward the house and shop, we can only hope we move quick enough to get in before a lookout can warn them trouble’s on the way.

  We spread out, taking up positions around the shop, our backs to the concrete block walls, several of us peering in the dirty paned windows. These guys use hand signals like they’re born to it, and I’m fascinated by how expeditious a system it is.

  Two men enter the chop shop, using a blowtorch on a back door padlock.

  They clear the building and shake their heads.

  I’m with Shades and Ghost, plastered against a wall, scoping out the home across a side street. It’s the one they believe belongs to the leader. If our information is wrong, the residents are going to have one hell of a wakeup call.

  Shades gives more signals to his men, and Ghost turns to me. “We’re goin’ in quietly in case there are children. You shoot a woman or child, Shades will hang you out to dry, understand?”

  “Got it.”

  “We’re hoping to get the drop on them. Our forward man doesn’t see any security. Come on. Let’s move.”

  We creep forward and surround the house, moving silently. One man finds an open window and let’s the rest of us in through the back door. We creep silently forward. Guns are pointed at the faces of three men we find passed out in the living room.

  A man comes awake and goes for his gun. Shades presses a 9mm to his forehead. “I dare you, motherfucker.”

  The man slumps back, his hands in the air. The other two rouse, to be greeted by muzzles. A man from a back room charges out, firing and I spin, feeling a quick burning sensation in my side.

  Ghost fires and the man drops, dead before he hits the floor, a hole in his forehead.

  I look down and see a hole in the side of my cut. I pull it away and see the red stain spreading wetly. The searing pain flashes through me a moment later and I stagger back a step.

  “You hit?” Shades shouts.

  I put a hand over my side. “Yeah. Guess so.”

  Ghost and another man guide me back to a chair. Ghost rips my shirt up to look at the wound. It’s long like a bloody red cigar shape.

  “You lucked out, kid. Just a flesh wound.” He pulls my cut off and then yanks my shirt over my head. Pulling a knife from his boot, he rips it in wide strips and wraps them around my abdomen, binding the wound up. It soaks quickly through with blood.

  “It’ll keep it clean until we get you back and get it treated.” Ghost sits back on his heels.

  I nod.

  One of the men is speaking to Shades, his hands in the air, a barrel in his face.

  I can’t understand him, but Shades must. He backhands him with his gun.

  “I’ll beat the fucking truth out of you.” He steps back as one of the guys drags a woman out, his grip tight on her upper arm.

  She looks familiar, and I dig in my pocket for my phone, pulling up the photo Aspen sent me. It’s her. I turn the camera toward Shades.

  “She’s the stripper from Centerfolds.”

  Shades straightens, his knees cracking, and he stares at the photo and reads the accompanying text, then turns to the woman. “Well, well. Come join us, Salami.”

  “It’s Salome,” she snarls, her lip curling.

  “Think I give a fuck? Sit down and shut up.” Shades points with his pistol toward the couch. He strolls across the room and picks up a hammer, testing it in his grip. Then he moves back to the stained stuffed chair the man sits in. “You Carlos?”

  The man stays silent.

  “I’ll beat the fuck outta you with this hammer, so you better start talkin’.”

  “Yes. Why are you here?”

  Shades points the end of the handle at me. “You ripped off my friend here. Took a bag of money from his club, and his wife’s diamond necklace. We’re here to get it back. You want to tell us how you knew about the money being collected last night?”

  His eyes shift to Salome’s. “My sister knew when the money was being carried out, man. Heard it would only be one prospect tonight. Seemed like easy money.”

  “So the fucking bitch stole from the very club that gave her a good job. What a fucking little ingrate you are, sweetie.” Shades takes her chin in his hand and gives her a good shake. She spits in his face, and he releases her. He looks at me, wiping that nasty spittle from his face. “It’s your club she stole from, prospect. It’s your ass she threw to the wolves. You want to do the pleasure or do I get to finish the bitch off?”

  I aim my gun at her head and fire with no hesitation. She drops like a rock.

  Shades whistles, and then jerks his chin to the table. “This the money?”

  I notice the bank bag. Ghost picks it up and counts it quickly. “Twenty-six thousand, eight hundred. That right?”

  “Nope. There was Twenty-eight thousand, three hundred,” I say, glaring at the man. “Where’s the rest of it? You’re fifteen hundred short.”

  “We spent some. Bought some lottery tickets, some champagne, some drugs.”

  “And the necklace?”

  He lifts his chin to his sister’s prone body and I see tears in his eyes.

  Ghost kneels and pulls back her hair and the collar of her shirt. “This it?”

  The diamonds sparkle around her collarbone.

  “Yeah. That’s it.”

  He removes it and hands it to me. “Looks like they fucked up the clasp. She just had it closed with a safety pin.”

  “Thanks.” I close my fist around it and shove it in my jeans pocket.

  Shades quickly puts a bullet in the leader’s head as well as his two accomplices. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

  I stand, shrug back into my cut, and we leave the house. We make it back to the bikes.

  “You okay to ride, Saint?” Ghost asks.

  “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  “Ride behind him. He starts to wobble, get him to the side of the road,” Shades orders Ghost. He turns to another man. “Get Doc to meet us at the clubhouse.”

  We head back, wasting no time.

  I grit my teeth at the pain when I lift my leg to the peg. It’s the leg I need to shift. Every kick of my toe up and down sends another sharp pain through my side, and I can feel the blood flowing as we ride across town. I do my best to avoid the potholes, and soon we’re pulling back through the back gate of the Evil Dead’s clubhouse.

  Kami must hear the bikes pull in because she rushes outside, searching frantically for me among the bikes. I pull my helmet off and stand, thanking the prospect that loaned me his bike.

  A moment later, Kami’s body slams into mine, and I grit my teeth against the pain, and clutch her to keep from falling over. Her arms wrap around my waist, and she burrows deep. “Oh thank God you’re safe. I was so worried.”

  I hiss in a breath as she squeezes me. She pulls back, and her eyes drop to the black swath of cloth binding my abdomen. She opens my cut.

  “My God, what happened?”

  “It’s just a graze, darlin’. I’ve got a doctor on call.” Shades looks to a car pulling in. “That’s him now. We’ll have him patched up in no time.”

  Kami puts her fingertips to her lips, and she backs up, her eyes glazing.

  Another car arrives, and a pretty dark haired woman steps out. She makes her way to Shades, and hugs him tight. He chin lifts to Kami. “Skylar, this is Kami. Can you put her at ease while Doc looks after Saint, here?”

  She turns and smiles at Kami. “Of course. Come with me, Kami.”

  “No. I want to stay with my husband.” She clings to me.

  “Baby, look at me.” I find her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just a graze. I promise you. You believe
me?”

  She nods, but there are tears in her eyes, and I know she doesn’t want to let go.

  “Doc will take good care of him. I promise.” Skylar puts her arms around Kami’s shoulders and pulls her gently back. “Come on. The doctor needs to look at him.”

  It works and she lets go. I grab her hand and kiss it. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  Skylar leads her into the clubhouse.

  We wait until she’s inside, and then Ghost puts a shoulder under my arm and props me up. I stagger, feeling woozier than I wanted to let on. They usher me through a side door, and into a room with a bed. I lie down, and the doctor comes in with a bag. He sets it on the nightstand, and gets his supplies out, snapping on gloves and a mask. Someone brings in some clean towels and shoves one under me, while some club girl helps me out of my cut and the binding.

  The doctor leans over and examines my wound, and then he swabs the area with an orange tinted antiseptic. “You’ll be fine. It’s a little jagged. I’m going to stitch it up. It’ll leave quite a scar unfortunately. I’m going to give you an antibiotic to make sure there’s no infection.”

  I nod, and he unwraps sutures and fills a hypodermic needle with something to kill the pain.

  Once the injection is made in several spots around the wound, it doesn’t take him long to stitch me up and bandage me. Then he wraps a cuff around my other bicep and takes my blood pressure. “You’re a little low, but you’ve lost some blood. I want you to take it easy tonight, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He sets a roll of gauze and some extra bandages on the nightstand.

  “You need to have it changed regularly. If you see any redness or puss or if you’re feverish, it’ll need to be seen by another doctor. Understand, son?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He pats my shoulder. “You lost some blood. Don’t drive for the next forty-eight hours, understand.”

  I nod.

  He packs up and leaves.

  Shades leans a shoulder on the doorframe. “You heard the man, you need to take it easy. Stay the night. You can have this room. There’s a bathroom through that door. No one will bother you.” He grins. “I’d do a shot with you, but Doc says alcohol is out for tonight.”