The restroom door squeaked open. “Havoc, you all right?” asked Indigo. “You been in here awhile. Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were naked.” Indigo turned around, shielding her eyes from Shea.
“Labrys shot Jessica.”
“What? But you said it was Lizzie.”
“Labrys left her earrings at my place the other night. She was wearing them tonight. Musta come by to pick them up and found Jessica there.” Shea dried herself off with paper towels and pulled on an Iron Goddess hoodie she’d taken off the rack.
Indigo met her gaze. “Even if that were true, why would Labrys shoot her?”
“Jealousy, I suppose. She also firebombed Bootlegger Bob’s.”
“Yeah, guess you’re right on that count. You think she also bombed that titty bar and the senator’s office?”
“Probably. I’ll leave that to the cops to figure out.” Shea leaned back against the sink. “She’s dead now, so it don’t matter much anyway.”
“Guess this means Fuego’s the new prez.”
Shea nodded, leading Indigo out of the restroom. “I think she’ll be good at it.”
They found Savage sitting sidesaddle on a production sport bike in the showroom, staring at the floor.
Indigo kissed her and threw a leg over a nearby V-4 cruiser similar to Sweet Betsy. “Where’s Fuego?”
“Gone home,” said Savage.
“How’s her arm?” asked Shea.
“Got it cleaned out in the men’s room. Should heal up okay.”
Shea sat on the floor and rubbed her temple, feeling exhausted and empty. “I can’t believe Orphan’s dead.”
“Labrys, too,” said Savage.
A brooding silence filled the space. No doubt Rios would suspect Shea and the others were involved in the shootout, but without proof, it was all speculation. They had worn their motorcycle gloves loading, unloading, and driving the van. There’d been no security cameras. And no survivors to tell the tale.
Indigo turned to Shea, putting her hands on the handlebar grips. “I love this bike, Havoc. How much does it go for?”
“Twenty-eight grand.”
“Shit, the insurance company wrote me a check for only twenty grand. Cheap motherfuckers!”
Shea stood and straddled the front wheel. With all the darkness eating at her soul, she felt a shaft of light around Indigo and the other members of the club. “You can have it for twenty.”
“Seriously?”
“Terrance’ll be pissed, but he’ll get over it. We won’t be giving back the deposit Bonefish put down on her bike. I’d call it a wash.”
“Can I take it tonight?” asked Indigo with a gleam in her eye.
“Sure, why not? Just be careful till we got the paperwork done.”
—
Before leaving Iron Goddess, Shea sent a text to Julia. By the time she pulled up in the hospital parking lot, Julia had responded.
Yes, they will meet with you.
Shea walked into the ICU waiting room. Terrance stood as she entered, his fingers entwined with another man’s with tan skin, green eyes, and a narrow face. Shea guessed he was Terrance’s boyfriend, Jake. Elon sat in the corner playing a video game.
“How is she, T?”
Terrance released Jake and hugged Shea. “Doc says she’s gonna live. With therapy, she may be able to walk again.” When he pulled back, his eyes held a concerned look that unsettled Shea. “She doesn’t want to see you.”
“What?”
“Her folks came up from Phoenix. They’re going to be relocating her to a rehab facility down in Scottsdale.”
Shea felt as if her world were coming apart. “No, they can’t take her. She’s my girlfriend.”
Terrance cupped Shea’s head and their eyes met. “It wasn’t Lizzie Black who shot her. It was your ex.”
“I know, T. But…” Her words got stuck in her throat. “I gotta talk to her.” Shea pulled away and rushed down the hallway.
Shea spotted Jessica’s name on a whiteboard outside room 347. Rios sat in a chair next to the door. She stood as Shea approached.
“Hold on, Shea. You and I need to talk.”
Shea tried to push past her. “I gotta talk to Jessica first.” On the other side of the room’s large plate glass window, an older African American couple looked up and glared at Shea.
Rios held firm, blocking her way. “Shea, look at me!”
Shea tightened her jaw, but stopped resisting and met Rios’ eyes. “What?”
“For starters, she doesn’t want to see you right now. Second of all, it wasn’t Lizzie Black.”
“I know.”
“You know?” Rios huffed and pointed to a room off the corridor leading to the ICU. “Let’s you and me sit and discuss this privately.”
They stepped into the nurses’ break room. A white table stood in the center, surrounded by four blue plastic chairs. Rios locked the door once they were inside and directed Shea to one of the chairs. “Where’ve you been for the past few hours?”
“Riding around to clear my head.”
“In this weather?”
Shea shrugged. “I ride in any kinda weather. What’s it to you?”
“Well, while you were ‘riding around’ clearing your head, someone turned Downtown Ironwood into a war zone.”
Shea looked at her stone-faced. She knew enough not to say anything. The only question in her mind was when to call Dragon to serve as her lawyer.
“You have nothing to say about that?” asked Rios, her face warming with frustration.
“Why would I?”
“A couple of members of the Athena Sisterhood were found dead on the scene.”
Images of Orphan’s half-lidded eyes tugged at Shea’s heart. “Who were they?”
“Sarah Cohen, aka Orphan. And Deborah Raymond, your club’s president.”
Shea stared at the floor and picked at dried blood in her nail bed. “What do you want me to say?”
“Turns out Ms. Raymond is the one Jessica claims shot her. But somehow you knew that. How?”
“Deb had left some earrings at my place a few nights ago. After Jess was shot, they were gone. I figured either Jessica’s attacker stole them or it was Deb.”
“Did you also know Ms. Raymond was responsible for the Bootlegger Bob’s fire?”
“No.” Anger, frustration, and sorrow pummeled her soul. “Anyone else dead?”
“As it happens, Chlöe Stansbury and Elizabeth Schwartz, otherwise known as Lizzie Black.”
“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, I suppose not. Any ideas what may have happened this evening?”
“Maybe Orphan and Labrys were dealing hex at the clubs for Bonefish. Maybe they got in a fight about money. I’m just guessing, since I wasn’t there.”
“Funny thing, there weren’t any drugs there.”
“That right?”
Rios studied Shea for a moment. “Whoever’s got them’s facing a whole lotta jail time.”
“Good to know. Can I see my girlfriend now?”
“If she’s willing, yeah. But last I talked to her, she’s pretty pissed at you.”
“I don’t blame her.” Shea got up, opened the door, and walked past the ICU nurse’s station to the door of Jessica’s room.
The man Shea guessed to be Jessica’s father stood up. “Miss, I think you need to leave my daughter alone.”
“Daddy,” said Jess in a weak voice. “It’s all right. Let me and Shea talk.”
He and Jessica’s mother gave Shea a stern look before walking out of the room. Shea sat next to the bed, her eyes welling up with tears, bile burning her throat.
“I’m so sorry. For all of this.”
Their eyes met. Jessica had a pained expression on her face. “I know. You’re always sorry. But I can’t live like this anymore. The hiding. You being gone all the time. When you do show up, you’re always bruised or bleeding or worse. This isn’t a relationship.”
“I…I know. But
I…I love you, Jess. Annie loves you.”
“I love you, too.” Jess grasped Shea’s hand. “I’m scared. I may never even walk again.”
“But you don’t gotta be scared no more. Lizzie Black’s dead. And I’ll take care of you.”
“Lizzie Black isn’t the one that shot me.”
Shea looked away. “I know. Deb. I found out it was her.” Her hands felt damp, as if still slick with Deb’s blood. “She’s dead, too.”
“I found her earrings in the dish by the door.”
Guilt punched Shea in the chest. “After you left, I…”
“Shea, don’t. I don’t want to hear what you and Deb did.” Jess knitted her brow. “Did you…did you kill her?”
Shea looked up. “I did what I needed to do. To protect you.”
“Shea…” Jessica’s mouth went slack, her mental calculations reflected in her eyes.
“She’s not a threat anymore.”
“And the Confederate Thunder? Are they going to stop attacking the Sisterhood?”
“We’re meeting with them tomorrow morning to discuss a truce. There’s nothing more for you to worry about.”
“Shea, I want to believe you. But as much as I truly love you, I just want a quiet life. I know it sounds boring. But I’ve realized I like boring.”
Shea’s pulse thundered in her ears. “Please, baby, I can be boring. You’ll see.”
Jessica held Shea’s face in her hand. “You are my bad girl. There’s not a boring bone in your body. And that’s part of what drew me to you. But…this whole roller-coaster ride has been giving me anxiety attacks.”
“Anxiety attacks? When?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jess sighed. “My dad has a friend who’s offering me a job with Home State Insurance down in Tempe.”
“Was this his idea?” growled Shea.
“No, it was mine. I’m doing this for me.”
“What about Annie?”
“Annie will be fine. She’s got you to take care of her.”
“She ran away after you left Terrance’s.”
Jess raised an eyebrow. “Ran away?”
“Well, technically she asked Julia to pick her up.”
“But she’s safe?”
Shea shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“Then you and Annie can use this time to get to know each other better. Without me in the way.”
“I want you in the way,” Shea pleaded.
“I’ve been in the way too long. It’s time to grow up, Shea, and be her guardian. More than a guardian. Her parent.”
“I can’t convince you to stay, can I?”
Jess shook her head. “I have to do this for me. If you love me—”
“I do, babe.”
“Then let me go.”
The room felt cramped and stuffy, despite the cool air. Shea kissed Jessica’s hand. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
Shea shuffled out.
Chapter 57
Under a bone-chilling sapphire sky, Shea watched the members of the Confederate Thunder Motorcycle Club wind their way down the switchback gravel road that led to the mine’s parking lot. Shea guessed their number to be between three and four dozen. The ground trembled with the sound of so many Harley engines.
Around her stood Fuego, Savage, Indigo, and the two dozen or so other members of the Athena Sisterhood, all sporting the club colors. They were horribly outnumbered and outgunned. If this turned violent, they had no chance.
One bike in the middle of the pack caught Shea’s attention: Monster’s royal blue Screamin’ Eagle Fat Boy. Julia was riding two-up with Annie on the back. Shea released the breath she was holding. Things were looking up.
The Thundermen parked in a semicircle, two deep, around the Sisterhood.
“I’m seriously about to pee myself,” whispered Indigo. “We get outta this alive, it’ll be a miracle.”
“We’ll be fine,” replied Shea.
“Havoc, Savage, come with me,” urged Fuego.
Shea gulped. “Why me?”
“This was your idea, prospect.” Fuego put an arm around her as they marched slowly toward One-Shot and Mackey, who were dismounting their bikes.
Annie rushed up and hugged Shea. “Missed you, Aunt Shea.”
“Missed you, too, Doodlebug.”
“I understand you have a business proposal,” said One-Shot, pulling off his wraparound Ray-Bans.
“Both clubs have lost people,” said Fuego in a strong, unwavering voice. “It’s time to end this feud before anyone else gets hurt.”
“Why should we?” asked Mackey. “This is our territory.”
“Awhile back you sold Bonefish the hex you stole from the Jaguars,” said Shea.
“Allegedly,” said One-Shot.
Shea locked eyes with him. “We have it now. Not just the hex, but Bonefish’s entire inventory. Ex, weed, acid, Special K, poppers, you name it. Worth over a million on the street.”
“Where’s Bonefish?”
“Dead, along with her crew. That includes Lizzie Black.”
“Yeah, right!” Mackey said with a sneer. “Don’t forget, Prez, they shot you while trying to rob our cabin. They can’t be trusted.”
“I’m aware,” said One-Shot.
“We’re telling the truth,” asserted Fuego. “We’ll give you Bonefish’s entire inventory at no cost. All we ask is you leave us alone. No more running us off the road. No more harassing.”
Shea pointed a finger at Mackey. “No more fucking drive-bys.”
Fuego put a hand on Shea’s shoulder and continued. “No raping or murdering.”
“What about y’all?” asked Mackey. “Y’all burned down our goddamn bar. Killed four of our members and three old ladies.”
Fuego looked from Mackey to One-Shot. “That was our former prez, Labrys. On her own. None of us knew anything about it.”
One-Shot arched an eyebrow and took a step toward Fuego. “Where’s this former president of yours?”
“In the county morgue. Lizzie Black killed her last night. I’m the new president. I’m asking for a truce between our clubs. We give you Bonefish’s inventory. We retain our independence, but stay out of your affairs.”
Mackey scoffed. “Enough of this nonsense, Prez. Let’s just waste these bitches and take the drugs for ourselves.”
“No you don’t!” Annie grabbed Mackey’s Ruger SR22 out of his side holster. Her hands trembled as she pointed it at him.
“Annie,” said Shea as calmly as she could. “Put the gun down, sweetie.”
“Fucking brat took my gun!” Mackey glowered at her, his fists balled at his side. “Give that back, ya little cunt, before I beat you senseless with it.”
Annie took a step back and cocked the hammer. “You wanna kill my Aunt Shea, you’re gonna have to go through me.”
“Don’t!” Shea wrapped her arms around Annie and grabbed hold of the gun, but not before it fired, punching a hole in the heel of Mackey’s boot.
Mackey charged, swinging. Shea smacked him upside the head with the Ruger. He fell face first into the gravel. The chatter of guns being drawn and slides pulled filled the air.
Shea looked up at One-Shot, keeping the Ruger trained on Mackey.
Julia pushed her way through the crowd until she stood before One-Shot. “You listen to me, young man. I’ve knowed you since you was a little squirt. Your mama didn’t raise you to treat women and kids this way. Annie is my grandbaby. Shea-Shea’s my family, too. She’s done good raising Annie after that pig killed Wendy. What these gals are asking ain’t unreasonable.”
Mackey wiped blood from his temple. “She’s just an old lady. She got no voice in this.”
One-Shot looked at Julia, then Shea, before lifting Mackey to his feet. He pulled out a knife and offered it handle-first to Mackey. “Mack, go sit on your bike, take the VP patch off your cut, and shut the hell up.”
Mackey sulked over to his bike and did as he was told.
One-Shot extended his hand to Fuego. “The terms are acceptable.”
Fuego shook his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you. Drugs are over there underneath that mining equipment. Need some help loading them up?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Fifteen minutes later, the Thunder had emptied all the tote bins from the gallery, packing the bags of drugs into the saddlebags and top cases of every one of their bikes.
Julia dropped a small orange-and-black duffel bag emblazoned with the Harley Davidson logo next to Shea’s feet. “Annie’s change of clothes is in there.”
Shea handed her Mackey’s Ruger. “Thanks for watching out for her.”
“Try to make her visits a little more reg’lar, if you don’t mind.”
“I can do that.” Shea turned to Annie. “You ’bout ready to go?”
“I gotta stay at Terrance’s again?”
“Nah, we’re going home.”
Annie wrapped her arms around Shea’s middle.
Once again, the air shuddered with the sound of Confederate Thunder motorcycles, trekking up the gravel road toward the highway.
Shea pulled out her phone and dialed Rios. “They’re headed your way and they’re flying heavy.”
Dedicated to my wife, Eileen
Acknowledgments
Thanks so much to everyone who helped make this second installment of the Shea Stevens thriller series possible, starting with the members of the various writer groups I’m a part of, including FF7, Sisters in Crime Desert Sleuths Chapter, the West Valley Critique Group, and the West Valley Writers Workshop. Your honest feedback, your wonderful suggestions, and your never-ending support are fuel to my engines.
Speaking of engines, thanks to Omar, Geoff, and Jeremy at MotoGhost in Phoenix for keeping my own motorcycle, Lady Midnight, in optimum condition.
Super-duper thanks to my agent Sharon Pelletier of Dystel, Goderich & Bourret. You are a master deal maker, advisor, therapist, and friend. I am beyond grateful for all you do.
And last, but not least, the amazing team at Alibi, especially my editor, Julia, and Erika and Madeleine on the marketing team. You all have repeatedly gone above and beyond. Thank you for believing in me and in Shea.
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