Athena Sisterhood

by Dharma Kelleher

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Squeezing means smoothly tightening your whole hand. Pulling is jerking your finger.”

  Labrys squinted her eyes shut and began squeezing.

  “Stop! What are you doing?”

  “I’m squeezing.”

  “Why you got your eyes closed?”

  “It’s going to be loud.”

  “We’ve got ear protection on. Just relax. Forget the bang. Take a breath. Now let it out slowly as you squeeze, keeping your sights lined up on the target.”

  Labrys once again squinted and pulled the trigger. The gunshot visibly shook her. “Holy shit, that was loud. Where’d I hit the target? I don’t see a hole.”

  “You missed it completely. Set your gun on the shelf and step aside. Lemme show you how it’s done.” Shea moved in to where Labrys had stood, raised her pistol, and squeezed off three shots, all three a bull’s-eye.

  “Whoa! How’d you do that?”

  “Years of practice. You didn’t hit the target because you closed your eyes. You gotta stop anticipating the gunshot.”

  “Okay, let me try again.” Labrys stepped up and fired off two more rounds. Both hit several inches away from the bull’s-eye. “I did it!”

  Labrys laid down her gun, threw her arms around Shea, and kissed her on the lips.

  Before Shea realized what was happening, she found herself kissing Labrys back, slipping into the well-worn groove of their former relationship until Jessica’s face appeared in her mind.

  Shea pulled away. “Fuck!”

  “Shea, it’s okay. We still love each other.”

  Shea flinched. “No, you had your chance. I love Jessica now.”

  “Shea, how can you love her? She’s not a biker. She doesn’t understand the feel of the wind in your hair, the thrill of whipping through twisties, the roar of a 1200 cc engine throbbing between your legs.” Labrys put a hand on the inside of Shea’s thigh.

  Shea batted it away. “I don’t care. She treats me with respect. And I…I just betrayed her.”

  “Oh please! It was just an innocent kiss.”

  “I think I should go home.”

  “Shea.” Labrys took Shea’s hand. “Don’t leave me. I need to learn how to do this. My survival depends on it.”

  Shea pulled away. “You just need to practice. I can’t be your teacher. There’s too much history.”

  “Prospect, as your president, I am ordering you to stay here and help me. We are in this together. We are sisters.”

  Shea glowered at her. “This is why I left you, you know? You and your fucking control issues.”

  “You would abandon your sisters when we need you the most? That’s so typical of you and your commitment issues.”

  Shea balled her fist, but resisted the urge to pop Labrys in the mouth. “Fine. I’ll see you through this. But I am fucking sick of you ordering me around like I’m a child. Maybe I ain’t all college educated like you, but I got a brain. I know shit you have no clue about.”

  “Then use that brain of yours to teach me how to protect myself.”

  Shea fumed and found herself staring into Labrys’ deep chestnut eyes. Old feelings rumbled beneath the surface. Anger, longing, frustration. “Get up to the line and try again. And keep your fucking eyes open.”

  —

  An hour later, they stood alongside their bikes parked on the street as they geared up to ride. Labrys was droning on about some politician caught fooling around on his wife.

  The low rumble of Harleys shook the air. Shea immediately recognized the two bikers wearing Confederate Thunder cuts cruising toward them. Mackey and One-Shot. For an instant, she and Mackey locked eyes.

  “Get down!”

  “What’d you say?” Labrys asked.

  Mackey raised a pistol and let loose several shots. Shea drew hers, but held her fire to avoid hitting passing cars. In an instant, Mackey and One-Shot had vanished into traffic.

  Shea turned to Labrys. “You okay?”

  Labrys lay on her back with a bullet hole in the front of her helmet, just above the open visor. Her eyes were wide, unfocused and dilated, her face pale and expressionless.

  “Fuck! Deb, hold on.” Shea lifted Labrys’ head and found a larger exit hole near the back of the helmet. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  Shea gently pulled the helmet off Labrys’ head. To Shea’s surprise there was very little blood. The bullet had gone through the helmet’s padding, but only grazed Labrys’ scalp.

  “Ugh…”

  “You’re okay, sweetie. You’re just in shock.”

  “They…they shot.”

  “They got your helmet. You hit anywhere else?” Shea searched Labrys’ chest for signs of wounds, but didn’t find anything. “You’re gonna be okay.”

  Labrys took a deep breath. “I’m…I’m alive?”

  “Yeah, you’re alive. Can you ride?”

  “I…I think so.”

  “Okay, let’s head back to Orphan’s place.”

  “No, no. Just…wanna go home.”

  Shea grimaced. They needed to get back to the safety of the group. But she didn’t feel like arguing. She put her own helmet on Labrys’ bleeding head. “Okay, Lady President. You’re the boss. We’ll go to your place.”

  —

  Rios was mulling over her notes from her interview with Sarah Cohen, trying to fit it in with the rest of the evidence, when a stack of case files dropped on her desk, pulling her out of the zone. “What the hell?”

  Morris wore an expression of concern tinged with shame. “I found these. They were ‘misfiled’ with some cold cases,” she said, using air quotes. “I found them by chance.”

  Johnson stopped what she was doing as Rios riffled through them. “Somebody killed three members of the Athena Sisterhood?”

  “And sexually assaulted them. Maintenance worker found the bodies behind a building at a rest area off I-17.”

  “This happened a week ago. Why am I just seeing them now?”

  “Not only were the cases misfiled, they were marked CLOSED—UNSOLVED in the system.”

  “I remember that call out,” said Johnson. “Why would someone close it unsolved right away?”

  Rios’ blood boiled. “Who changed the status in the system?”

  “According to the computer, Detective Needham in Property Crimes.”

  “Needham?” asked Rios. “He retired last month.”

  Morris nodded. “He did. But get this: the cases were never assigned to him.”

  “Who were they assigned to?” Rios closed the files and crossed her arms.

  Morris’ face warmed. “You.”

  “Me? I’ve never seen these before in my life.” Rios scanned the room. Who would hide these cases? Aguilar, maybe. But he’s just a deputy, and not too smart. Someone higher up must be involved. “You tell anyone about these?”

  “Just you two.”

  “Keep it that way for now. Someone’s sabotaging my investigation. I aim to find out who it is.”

  Morris nodded. “You got it.”

  Rios held up the files. “Thanks for this.”

  “No problem.” Morris started to walk away.

  “Hey wait! Where are you with those assault cases—the one at that lesbian bar and the one at Iron Goddess?”

  “Nowhere. We had some recent random shooting cases that took priority. Why?”

  “You mind if I take a crack at them?”

  “I’ll bring them over. Anything else you want to take off my hands?”

  “That’ll do for now. But keep your ears open for anything else suspicious.”

  “What are you thinking?” asked Johnson.

  “I have a CI claiming someone here’s running interference for the Thunder. She may be right.” Rios pulled out her phone and dialed, but the call went to voicemail. “Shea, we need to talk. Call me ASAP.”

  “Can we just take these cases like this?”

  “Goodman wanted me to put an end to the violence betwe
en these two clubs. That’s what I intend to do.” Rios searched her phone directory, pulled up a familiar name, and called it.

  “Federal Bureau of Investigation, Special Agent Marc Obregón speaking.”

  “Marc, it’s Toni.”

  “Hey chica! Long time, no see. You still slumming with Sheriff Keeler?”

  Rios grimaced. “ ’Fraid so. Listen, you ever hear of someone going by the name Bonefish?”

  Obregón chuckled darkly. “Bonefish, huh? Yeah, why?”

  “I’m investigating six deaths involving hex laced with strychnine. One of my CIs claims this Bonefish guy bought it from the Confederate Thunder, recut it, and is selling it in local clubs.”

  “Well, Bonefish isn’t a guy. Bonefish is a woman, and she’s a ghost.”

  “A ghost?”

  “Her name pops up every now and then, but we haven’t been able to get anyone to tell us much,” explained Obregón. “Apparently, she’s got some serious muscle behind her. One rumor is that she’s a local businesswoman, but that’s all we got. You say the Thunder’s connected to this?”

  “Only that they stole the hex from the Jaguars, then sold it to Bonefish. That said, I also have a stack of assault and homicide cases that I suspect are linked to the Thunder.”

  “Really? We’ve been investigating the Thunder’s meth operation for a while now. So far without much help from your beloved sheriff. Want to compare notes? Maybe we can nail both the Thunder and your Bonefish.”

  Rios glanced at Johnson, who was listening eagerly. “Yeah, I’ll stop by your office in a bit.”

  “I look forward to seeing you.”

  Rios hung up. “Come on, Johnson. We’re taking a trip to the FBI.”

  Chapter 45

  Labrys whimpered as Shea helped her off with the helmet and laid it on the all-too-familiar handmade quilt on Labrys’ bed. The bedroom was cozy, organized, and very pink, just as Shea remembered it.

  “How’s it look?” Labrys asked through gritted teeth.

  “Bleeding stopped. It’s all kinda dried and caked in your hair. How you feel?”

  “Ugh. Hurts like hell.” Labrys touched her scalp gingerly and winced. “But I don’t feel as jittery as I did.”

  “We should clean out the wound. Make sure there’s no gunshot residue or anything in there that could get infected.”

  “Sounds painful, but you’re probably right.” Labrys wriggled out of her jacket and tossed it next to the helmet. “Been awhile since you’ve been here, huh?”

  “Looks the same.” The place was filled with ghosts of better times.

  Labrys gingerly lifted her shirt up and over her head, groaning as she did so.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Shea caught herself staring at Labrys’ chest and turned away.

  “Taking a shower to rinse out my hair. You’re gonna help me, right? I need someone to make sure I get out all of the blood and debris.”

  “Understand that you and me—we’re over.” Shea heard the rustle of Labrys’ motorcycle jeans. What the hell am I doing here?

  Without warning, Labrys’ arms wrapped around Shea’s chest from behind, pressing their bodies together.

  “We don’t have to be,” Labrys whispered. Her breath tickled the back of Shea’s neck.

  Shea felt herself get aroused. “Deb, cut it out. I mean it! You wanna take a shower? Do it. But hurry the hell up. Never know when Bonefish is gonna call back.”

  Labrys slapped Shea on the back. “Geez, I was just kidding around. You’re no fun.”

  A few minutes later the shower started running in the bathroom.

  “I shouldn’t be here.” Shea wandered around the room. Everything from the stained-glass lampshade to the knickknacks on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf brought back more memories. Antiquing in Jerome. A road trip to see a Pink Trinkets concert at the Coachella Music Festival. Attending a marriage equality rally at the state capitol in Phoenix. Riding with the Dykes on Bikes in Ironwood’s LGBT pride parade.

  Shea’s phone rang. Her pulse quickened. Shit, this is it. “Yeah?” she said in a deadpan voice.

  “Hey, baby, it’s Jess. I called the shop and Terrance said you weren’t there. What’s going on?”

  “Oh. Hey.” A lump formed in Shea’s throat. “Just getting…uh, things resolved. You know, so it’s…um, safe to come home.”

  “I’ve been worried about you. People are saying there’ve been some random shootings in the area. That wasn’t you, was it?”

  The sound of the shower cut off. Shea swallowed hard. “Me? No, not at all. I…I’m safe.”

  “What’s wrong? Your voice sounds funny.”

  “Is that Bonefish?” asked Labrys, walking out of the bathroom, dripping wet.

  “Who’s with you, Shea? That’s not Deb is it?”

  Shea’s face warmed. “Technically, yes. But it’s—”

  “Why the hell are you with her?”

  “We’re getting…uh…things worked out. Look, I need to hang up. I’m expecting a call.”

  “Oh really? You send me off to stay with Terrance so you and Deb can play house?”

  “Jess, it ain’t like that.”

  Labrys pressed her wet body against Shea’s. “Hi, Jessica.”

  “After all the time we’ve spent together. I can’t believe you’d do me like this.” The anger in Jessica’s voice turned to hurt.

  Shea twisted away from Labrys. “Jess, trust me. I wouldn’t do that to you…to us. I’m just trying to put all of this craziness to bed. I mean, put it to rest. I’m waiting to hear back from someone. I’ll be home soon.”

  “Fuck your fear of commitment. Fuck your bad-girl mystique. Fuck Iron Goddess. Fuck the Athena Sisterhood. Fuck your obsession with vigilante justice. But most of all, fuck you, Shea Stevens. I’m done being the only one making this relationship work.”

  The line went dead. Shea’s hands shook with anger. She glared at Labrys as the scent of cucumber-melon lotion filled Shea’s nostrils. “Thanks a lot for that. Jessica dumped me ’cause she thinks I’m cheating on her.”

  Labrys shook her head, a mocking expression on her face. “So paranoid. You know, that kind of jealousy isn’t good for a relationship. It never would have worked out anyway.”

  “Just shut up and get dressed.” Shea walked away and sat on the living room couch, staring at her phone.

  Labrys plopped down on an ottoman opposite her. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was just kidding around. If Jessica’s got any brains, she’ll take you back. And if she doesn’t, well, I’m still available.”

  “Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. How’s your head?”

  “Better.” Labrys gazed absently at the floor. “Look, thanks for saving my life.”

  “I didn’t do nothing.” Shea looked up at her. “You got another helmet?”

  “Yeah, an old Bell I haven’t worn in a while. Strap always chafed my chin, but it’ll do for now.” A tear ran down Labrys’ cheek. “I thought I was up for this. But after what happened, I…I don’t know. Maybe we should just turn this whole thing over to the cops.”

  “That mighta been an option if I didn’t have a shitload of hex in the top case of my bike.”

  “I’m scared, Havoc.” Labrys’ trembling hand clasped Shea’s. “I never came that close to dying before.” She leaned forward and hugged Shea tightly.

  Shea held her as a wave of sobs burst forth. “I know it’s scary. I’ve been there more times than I can count.”

  “You’re so tough, Shea. I guess that’s why I’m drawn to you. I need your strength.”

  Shea pulled away. “You are strong. I mean, look at you. You’re the president of the Athena Sisterhood. You organize protests and fundraisers. You lobby politicians.” Shea put a hand on Labrys’ bare arm. It was as soft as she remembered. A longing welled up in Shea. More than a longing. A need. She felt herself leaning toward Labrys’ pillowy lips and pulled herself away, shaking away the cobwebs of seduction. “Get some clothes on.”

  Labrys no
dded. “All right.”

  Shea’s phone rang again. The caller ID told her it was Terrance. “What’s up, T? I’m kinda expecting a call.”

  “Chlöe Stansbury wants to stop by the shop at seven tonight to see how the bike’s coming.”

  “T, I can’t. I’ve got something important going on. Besides, the shop closes at six. Can’t she come by tomorrow?”

  “She insisted on doing it tonight. She paid a lot of money for this bike. Least we can do is accommodate her a little.”

  “Can’t you show it to her?”

  “I offered, but since you’re the one building it, she wants you.”

  Shea’s grip tightened on the phone. “All right. I’ll meet her at the shop. Seven o’clock.”

  “Appreciate it! Oh, and what the hell’s going on between you and Jessica? She called and said she’s going to stay with a friend.”

  “She what? What about Annie?”

  “She’ll be all right. Elon’s out of school for the holiday break. He can keep an eye on her. So you two have a fight or what?”

  “Sorta. It’s complicated. Tell Elon thanks. I owe you one.”

  “No, you owe me several. But you can start paying me back by making Ms. Stansbury happy.”

  “Will do, T.”

  Shea ended the call and pounded her fists against her head.

  “What was that all about?” said Labrys.

  “Goddamn client. Insists on stopping by the shop to see the bike I’m building for her.”

  “What about dealing with Bonefish? We can’t do this without you.”

  “Relax. This shouldn’t take long. If Bonefish calls, I’ll stall her long enough for us to set up an ambush.”

  Chapter 46

  Shea was unlocking Iron Goddess’ back door when two vehicles pulled into the back lot—Chlöe’s beige Mercedes and a dark green Jaguar convertible. Shea waited by the door as Chlöe got out of her car. A tall woman with dark hair and broad shoulders emerged from the Jag—the same woman who had glared at her a couple of doors down from the Tenth Inning. This evening she was dressed in a sport coat over a dark shirt.

  “Shea, this is Ms. Elizabeth Schwartz, one of my associates. She and I have a business dinner later, so I asked her along. I hope you don’t mind.”