by Trent Jordan
I went through a door and turned left, finding several bikers milling about outside. A few other girls, dressed in rather minimal clothing, also waited outside. The feeling was one of nervousness, but not panic. Though the bikers all seemed on edge and prone to snapping, I didn’t get the vibe that things were about to go sideways too badly.
Still, I did not see Lane in the group. That probably meant that he was going to be one of the bikers undergoing an operation of some kind.
I took a deep breath, told myself to remain as calm as the others here, and walked door by door. The first room I saw had a black man with what looked like the Army logo tattooed on his chest. He also had a gunshot wound on the other side of his chest. His vitals checked out fine. If memory served me right, that was Axle.
I went to the next room and saw an enormous white man with a thick beard lying on the bed. Butch. His vitals were stable as well, and in fact, he seemed alert.
But there was no sign of Lane.
I moved through the crowd, checking every face, even if the height didn’t match up to Lane’s, thinking that maybe I had just missed something. But now, there was no Lane in sight. I took a seat in a chair in the hallway, doing my best to look as calm as possible, but probably doing very poorly at that.
It wasn’t like I was a known woman in the club. Actually, when I thought about it, the only impression most club members had of me was that I was a government official who had come in to sweep the Reapers away. What would happen if they saw me?
As it turned out, I got the answer real fast when a young man I recognized as Michael “Patriot” Giordano approached.
“Can I help you?” he said. “Wait, you’re the government girl. The one who threatened to clean things up here.”
I opened my mouth to say I had come to make sure Lane was fine, but to do so would sound shallow and like a lie. I didn’t think Patriot would give me the chance to explain everything that had happened either.
“What are you doing here? Have you come to press some bogus charges? Clean up—”
“She’s with me.”
Both of us turned our eyes to Lane, walking down the hallway from the other side, a serious expression on his face. I couldn’t even begin to express how relieved I felt at seeing him not only fine but looking tall and certain in what he needed to do. I moved toward him for a hug, but he gently put his hand out and held me at arm’s length.
I could not lie, that hurt.
“I spoke with the hospital staff, they can work something out on the price,” he said. “In the meantime, though, let’s get everyone here. I want everyone accounted for and don’t need to find out someone went sneaking over to the Saints to update them. Patriot, until Axle gets out of the bed, you’re the temporary VP. Got it?”
“Got it,” Patriot said, whirling around and spreading the news to everyone.
He handled that with such aplomb. No cockiness, no showmanship, no machoism. Just strict, pure action.
“Here, come with me,” Lane said as he placed a hand on my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine.
I turned and quickly caught up with him. I started to ask him what had happened, but he shushed me and just said, “not here.” I followed him around two corners before he opened a doorway to me, letting me in.
I entered into a chapel with no more than three rows of pews. There was a nice stained-glass decoration at the other end of the room, but it was completely empty otherwise. No other patients or family members were praying.
“Seems appropriate, doesn’t it,” Lane said dryly. “Pray to the real saints to handle the fallen ones.”
“What’s going on, Lane?” I said. “I thought you’d gotten shot!”
Lane bit his lip, sat in a pew, patted for me to sit next to him, and then put his arm around me. I fell into his arm, surprised at how natural and easy it felt. For someone whom I’d only spent one evening with—the previous one at that—it felt surprisingly normal to be in his comfort.
“Someone in the club is a rat,” he said very softly, so softly that I almost didn’t hear him fully the first time. “Someone sold us out that we were planning something, and the Saints attacked us. We’re lucky to still be here.”
“Shit, Lane,” I said, turning my body in full and wrapping my arms around him.
But he shifted away.
“Lane?” I asked.
“Angela, I’m not saying no to you, but you need to understand the truth,” he said. “And I trust you understand what I’m telling you is about the truth as someone who likes you, not as someone who might be on the other side of the courtroom someday.”
I nodded and folded my hands in my lap.
“I know you have a job to do, and I have mine. I have no doubt you’re going to have to take care of a lot of things. You and Beth are going to have to interview people here, press charges on the Saints, do whatever you need to do. But that’s not going to work, and you know it.”
I know it better than you might ever suspect, Lane. I spent an entire morning talking about it with Beth.
“My job is going to put me in a lot of violent, dangerous spots that, frankly, I’ve tried to avoid for some time. I’ve been a coward in the past. Really, before the last few days, the only time I had ever fired a gun at someone was when I thought Shannon was in danger. But you need to be aware that the things I’m about to do? It’s taking justice into my own hands. I’m going to be a vigilante. Because while the justice system is great for keeping society in check, it’s not great for keeping the worst kind of humanity in check. And that’s my job.”
Nothing he said had scared me off yet. I understood that the best thing I could do right now was to understand the spirit of the law, not the letter. The spirit told me the Saints had to face retribution for their crimes. The letter said I had to find a specific bylaw I could charge them under, get an arrest warrant issued, and do so many other things that would take at least a few days to make happen.
As much as I believed in the power of the law and the power of rules, my time with Lane had shown me that it wasn’t going to be fair to abide by such things all the time. I think even Shannon would have said to loosen up. In fact, I know she would.
“Can you tell me what you’re going to do, Lane?” I said.
“Club business,” he said.
“Lane,” I said. “Please. I want to see what I can do to help.”
“You can’t,” he said.
“You don’t know that,” I said, but I knew he was closer to being right than not.
He let out a prolonged sigh. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but in my head, fantasies of backing up the Black Reapers with cops or other law enforcement agencies filled my head. They were fantasies for a reason, and maybe the real reason I wanted to know was just that I liked Lane and wanted to make sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid.
“I’m going to take the only people I trust to deal out justice,” he said.
“Who?”
“Patriot,” he said before a long pause. “And Father Marcellus. Although truth be told, I’m not even sure I trust the chaplain, but I don’t have much choice with Axle and Butch out. Only other option is Red Raven, but he’s too old for this kind of run.”
You don’t trust the chaplain? What kind of a chaplain is he?
“Things can get kind of complicated,” he said, as if aware of the questioning thoughts in my head. “In any case, I can’t have just Patriot go with me. We need at least three to do a hit-and-run.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “You’re going up against the entire Saints with just the three of you?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“To their clubhouse on the other side of Springsville.”
I didn’t pretend for two seconds to know how the dynamics of MC rivalries worked, but I sure knew that having three people go and attack an entire clubhouse worth of enemies was a bad idea.
“Why? Why not wait until everyone is healthy and then organize s
omething?”
“Because we have a rat in the club, Angela,” he hissed. “Look, I know it’s stupid. I’m not going to sit here and say we’ll definitely win. But you know what? I have to show my club that I’m their leader. I have to stand up for them and defend the club’s honor. I know that’ll put me in the line of fire, but—”
“That’s not leadership, that’s just stupidity,” I protested, but Lane didn’t look like he was having any of it. “Just promise me it’s an actual hit-and-run, Lane, and not some suicidal run.”
“Oh, hell no, I’m not that insane.”
You’re not here. But are you going to be at the moment? Are you going to be able to step back and account for all the necessary variables that could save you?
Can you do that, Lane? Can you recognize the difference between aloofness and caution?
“Look, I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s time I took on greater responsibility, anyway. Showing courage is easy when you literally have to pull a trigger to save your life. It’s much harder when taking no action is the safer decision in the short term. This club has done a lot for me, but I have not done a lot for it. I need to take the Saints on.”
But the three of you against everyone...
“And if nothing else, if we get attacked on the way, then I can say with almost complete certainty that Father Marcellus is the rat.”
“You don’t think it could be Patriot?”
I didn’t think the question was a bad one, but it seemed to chill Lane severely. He bit his lip, looked straight ahead for several seconds, and took numerous deep breaths before he could simply speak.
“That’s my brother,” he said. “My real, truest brother, I have. No, not by family. By something better. He’s no Cole.”
I bit my lip from saying anything else. Maybe you need the help of family right now. Even if you hate him, family never quits on each other at the end of the day.
“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t ready to just let Patriot off the hook, but I also knew such conversations were futile and useless right now. “Just promise me one thing, then. Promise you’ll come back alive. I already lost one friend. I don’t need to lose someone who’s just as special.”
Lane turned to me, looked me up and down, and pulled me into a sweet embrace before kissing me on the top of my forehead.
“I promise,” he said.
I had much to say to him at that moment. Like how everything Beth had said about Roger Carter were things I was starting to see in Lane. Like how Shannon had truly picked a great man. Like how it was a small wonder with his determination that people looked up to him.
But I didn’t get the chance to say any of that, because he stood up, said he’d see me again, and then walked out of the room. I bowed my head at the pew, my eyes occasionally glancing up at the stained-glass window, wondering if Lane was going to need divine intervention to get through the night. I’d grown up religious but didn’t practice much, but right then and there, I was certainly praying to whoever and whatever would listen to me.
I really was finding myself drawn to Lane in a way I had never felt with anyone else. Maybe circumstances made it hotter and more exciting than it actually was. Maybe in three or four months’ time, I’d wonder what the hell I’d gotten myself into and would find a way to back out as gently as possible.
But for right now, I just wanted to hold on to him as long as possible. Whatever it took, I wanted to make it work. If Shannon had chosen him as a serious boyfriend—and this before he had seemingly grown up quite a bit in the last couple of weeks—then I knew he was worth holding onto.
I said a silent prayer, punctuated it with “Amen,” and rose from the pew. I grabbed my things and prepared to head home, knowing staying here would do nothing good.
And then, for the second time that day, I got an alert on my phone that made my mouth gape.
But this time, it wasn’t a breaking news alert. Instead, it was an email from Beth with news I could not believe.
“We found him.”
Lane
I hated that I left Angela in something of a hurry, but the truth was if I didn’t leave her then, I was never going to leave her side.
I could tell she at least had a vague idea of what had happened. It wasn’t exactly private property where the shootout had taken place. Carter’s Automotive Repair was on the tail end of the busy parts of Springsville, and while the shop was closed at that time of day, it wasn’t like there weren’t other businesses in the area with clients and customers. News would have spread quickly of the shootout.
She could have easily slid into public official mode, separated herself from me, and told me that for the sake of her professional career, she couldn’t be seen with me. It would have been painful but understandable. I didn’t know if it would have spelled the end of what we had, but it definitely would not have helped matters.
The fact she had sought me out in a public space... that was incredible. It was unbelievable in the best way possible. I never would have expected any woman to do that for me, let alone a public official like Angela. Though I didn’t consider myself a terrible person, I wasn’t in the Black Reapers because I was a socially normal person.
I had to pull her into the chapel for that very reason, to avoid us being seen together. I supposed I was overthinking it, but I definitely wasn’t overthinking how much I liked her. I wasn’t overthinking the fact that I had to pull away from her to do what I had to do.
That, I thought, was the biggest difference between me now and me a year ago. Lane, one year before, put Shannon over the club, and while that might have been the right choice then, it made issues with the club that much more difficult and had made life hell. Lane, now, knew how to balance the two and when to give attention to one over the other.
It meant I was smarter, more balanced, and a healthier man than I had been before.
In any case, I let myself think of Angela up to the point where I saw Patriot in the hallway. I told him to follow me and did the same with Father Marcellus. I walked in silence outside the hospital, the two of them in tow behind me.
“What’s going on, man?” Patriot said, a little bit of nerves in his voice.
I didn’t blame him. I was nervous, too.
“We need to strike back at the Saints,” I said. “But we need to keep our group small. Just the three of us.”
“Wait, why?” Father Marcellus said. “Are you sure—”
“Yes,” I said.
I wished I could explain why. But Angela’s comments, though unbelievably harsh and hopefully not true, had told me something that I had to acknowledge as possible. Until I truly eliminated an individual from being the mole, I had to consider that everyone could be that.
Including my brother, Patriot.
“We need to keep this small, so we don’t attract a lot of attention,” I said. “The Saints are probably celebrating their ‘victory’ with some cheap-ass champagne and beer at their shop. They won’t think we’ll be in the mood to strike tonight. We can land a few bullets on them, speed back home, and then reconvene in the morning.”
“Are you sure—”
“Look, Marcellus, are you in or are you out?” I said. “I don’t care either way. I’m going to do this. I just want enough backup to feel like I’m protected, but not so much that I announce my presence to the Saints.”
I hadn’t planned on pinning Father Marcellus in such a spot, but I realized there might be benefits to his answer. If he said no, that was a major red flag. If he was in, it’d be all but impossible for him to alert the Saints something was going on.
“Okay, I’ve got your back,” he said.
So maybe he’s not the rat after all.
“Likewise,” Patriot said.
Maybe we’re in the clear. Maybe they’re good.
“Good,” I said with a smile. “Let’s make a run back to the clubhouse, grab our rifles, and then we roll out immediately. Is there any reason either of you needs to go back inside?”
“Then let’s roll.”
I got on my bike and watched the two of them doing the same, checking to see if either got on their phone. Neither did. So... could it have been one of the injured ones? Or Red Raven?
Or maybe this isn’t something you should worry about right now. Get your retaliation in and then head back. Be the leader. The more distracted you are, the worse off you’ll be.
Admittedly, it didn’t feel very leader-like to have suspicions about someone being a rat and keeping that hidden from everyone. But from the perspective of putting the club first, above all else, that felt like being a good leader. I had put myself first for so long, it would take me time to learn how to put others first properly. In due time.
We made our way back to the shop and grabbed our rifles, a trip so quick that we barely spoke. I didn’t even kill my bike’s engine as the three of us all headed inside. I almost let Patriot or Father Marcellus stay on their bikes, but, well, paranoia was still a little high for me.
The three of us then roared down the road, driving past Brewskis, the last place where it was neutral territory. As soon as we went over to the other side, we were square in Fallen Saints territory, and it was understood that anything and everything could go down. Hopefully, it’s a few Saints who go down.
We made our way to the shop of the Saints, which was less of a shop and more of a dilapidated warehouse that barely had any functioning signage. No customers went there. The police rarely visited either for obvious reasons.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” I said. “Drive by, rain some bullets down, and get out of there and call it a day. Got it?”
“You weren’t kidding about the hit and run, huh?” Patriot said. “You really want to make this quick.”
“If I had any balls, honestly, I’d have us just drive through the building and cause some real damage.”
I’m not sending anyone in to die. And though I’m trying to be a better leader, I’m not trying to be a suicidal one.