Finn hung up the phone with his father. Granite had been moved by the Westside Skulls in the dead of night to a “safe” house in Phoenix. The new chapter of the Skulls in the person of his son, Finn, would check in on him from time to time. Meanwhile, if he needed anything, they were only a dozen or so miles away and could get there quickly. Lately, however, it seemed like the trouble that had surrounded Finn and Granite had shifted its focus to the small, struggling new club. Streak, the only other member besides Finn, Beck, and Jace, had been called home to Chicago for a family emergency. Finn had no idea what that emergency was, just that Streak had been gone for two weeks now. Beck and Jace found out they were expecting a baby a couple of weeks after arriving in Arizona and now a month later, it looked like they might be losing it.
Finn had received a frantic message from Jace telling him the young man needed to meet the police on the property Jace and Beck lived on and they planned to build their club on. He’d been vague about why, but he did tell Finn that Beck was having problems and he was at the ER with her. He also told him to notify Granite of what was going on because Jace was supposed to meet with him on Monday morning. Granite was helping them with the finances since that was his specialty, until Jace could put a treasurer in place. He also told him to get in touch with Streak and find out if he was coming back soon. They needed to rally the troops, no matter how small their numbers.
The police had arrived at the property just after Finn did and they were doing their crime scene thing while he waited. After he finished his call to Granite, he called Streak. He was expecting to get his voicemail since that was all they had gotten each time they’d tried to reach him over the past two weeks...so he was surprised when the biker answered himself.
“Yeah?”
“Streak, it’s Finn.”
The other man chuckled and said, “No shit?”
Finn rolled his eyes. The friend of Beck’s, an ex-Navy biker, liked to make fun of Finn’s accent. Finn hadn’t spent enough time with the other man to decide if he liked him well enough to laugh with him yet, so he didn’t. Finn did have to admit that Streak was talented. He was a tattoo artist before he went into the Navy and he had inked a phoenix on both Jace and Beck. The tattoos were amazing, and it sort of made Finn wish he had a phoenix instead of the snake Wolf’s artist had inked on his chest before he left California.
“Hey, Beck is in the hospital and there’s all kinds of shit going on around here. Jace wants to know if you’ll be headed back soon.”
“Shit. Is Beck okay?”
“I don’t know, man. I got a call from Jace at the crack of dawn that she was bleeding and he was taking her in. Somebody has been vandalizing shit here on the property so I’m waiting for the police to finish doing their thing. I haven’t heard back from Jace.”
“Shit. I’m already on my way, but I’m a good twelve hours out. I’ll drive straight through. Do me a favor, though, and send me a text if you get any updates on Beck, okay?”
“Will do. Be safe out there.”
“Yeah, you be safe over there, brother. I’ll see you soon.”
“Mr. McGregor?” Finn had barely ended the call before the detective approached him.
“Yes, sir?”
“Were you here when this happened?”
“No, sir. I live in an apartment at the Desert Oasis down the road.”
“Any idea of the exact time?”
“It was after 3...close to 4...I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”
“Mr. Bell and Miss Golden were present at the time?”
“Yeah, they were asleep. Jace said they were woken up by a gunshot and this is what they found when they got out here.”
“Miss Golden is pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“And she was bleeding?”
Finn’s eyes went over to the house where the gruesome picture had been painted. The dirt in front of it was stained with something brown. It was the first time he realized that was Beck’s blood. His stomach turned and he said, “Yeah, at least that’s what Jace told me.”
“Anyone else live here?”
“No.”
“I’m sure you’ll understand that I have to ask this – you’re a motorcycle club, a chapter of the Southside Skulls out of Boston, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, any enemies? Did y’all move in on anyone’s territory here?”
“No, sir. Before we started the chapter, our president in California, the Westside president, he had that all checked out. The closest club is in a place called Buckeye...and besides, sir, all we’re doing here is building a custom bike shop and a place for guys who like to ride to hang out. The permits have all been filed; you can check them out.”
“I will,” he said with a smile that said he didn’t believe that they were just there to find a place to “hang out” and work on bikes. “California is not that far away. The Westside Skulls got any beefs going on right now?”
“Not that I know of, sir.” Finn wondered if all of this had something to do with him, or his dad. He couldn’t see how it could, though, since as far as their enemies knew, Finn and Granite were both dead. That was a question for Jace to answer anyway, not him. He wasn’t even an officer and he only had the patch because it made him look more legitimate than being a prospect would. He was learning how to be part of an MC backwards, but he was okay with that. He was just happy he was no longer hiding out at his dad’s neighbor’s house. That made him consider using drugs again, and some days he felt so bored and lonely that he was almost suicidal. This was worlds better than that.
“Who else in Phoenix is associated with this club?”
“We have one other member. His name is Streak...um, shit...” Finn was drawing a blank on Streak’s real name. “Brandon...Yeah, that’s it, Brandon Green. He’s on his way back from Chicago right now. He won’t be back until tonight. He’s been out of town for two weeks.”
The detective sighed and said, “What about the Native Americans from the reservation down the road? Have you heard from any of them since you moved out here?” Finn thought about Ajei and Rock. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to tell the cops they’d been there. This was why he hated talking to cops. He never knew when to lie and when to tell the truth. In Ireland, lying to the cops had been a way of life, but Jace wanted the person who did this caught, so Finn told the truth.
“We had a couple of visitors last night, early, for dinner. They were a nice couple. They own a market just outside of the reservation. Her name was Ajei and his was...”
“Rock, yeah, I know them.” The detective’s face didn’t give away whether he liked them or not, or was suspicious of them, just that he knew them. Finn was curious, but he wasn’t going to ask. Instead he said:
“Do you expect us to have problems with the Native Americans?”
The detective looked around them and then back at Finn and said, “This land has been in dispute for years. There’s a small group of the natives that still believe this land is sacred and belongs to their people. Have you had anything else happen recently? Anything strange?”
Finn frowned. “Yeah, yesterday afternoon...well, come with me, I’ll show you.” Finn took the detective around the back of the house where the posts blocked off the property where the club would be built in one spot and the shop in the other. They had a contractor hired and so far he’d leveled the land, but they were waiting for permits to be approved before they started building. Finn took him over to the post that still had dried blood on it. “There was a rabbit, dead, obviously, nailed up here.”
“You didn’t think to notify us about that? Was there a message as well, like the one on the house?” Finn nodded, ignoring the detective’s question about them not calling the police and said:
“Yeah. It said, ‘Go Away.’”
“Hey, boss!” One of the guys in a crime scene technician coat was hollering at the detective. He walked over toward him and Finn followed. Finn hung back slightly, but he was
close enough to hear when the tech said, “This isn’t animal blood.”
“What?” the detective asked, his voice horrified. “That’s a hell of a lot of blood...”
“About three liters,” the tech said.
“Fuck...How likely is it that the person who donated that blood is still alive?”
The tech cocked an eyebrow and said, “Well, unless they were given a transfusion right away, not very.”
* * *
Tommy woke up with his lips sticking together. His mouth was dry. He hadn’t really drunk that much the night before so he didn’t know why he felt so shitty. He rolled over to climb out of bed and the room began to spin. What the hell? He knew he was completely sober when he left the bar last night. Maybe he was coming down with something. He pulled himself upright and sat on the edge of the bed. His head was pounding, his stomach churning, and the room was still slightly spinning. He put his head in his hands and thought about the night before. He’d left the bar right after Jessie put her number in his phone and left. That was about 2:30 a.m. He remembered getting on his bike...but he realized suddenly that he didn’t remember driving out of the parking lot. He didn’t remember coming home. Shit. He lifted his head and looked around the room. He was home, for sure. He looked down at himself. He was in his boxer shorts. He looked clean. What the hell? Why couldn’t he remember anything?
He pushed up off the bed and had to stand still for a few seconds before he moved across the bedroom floor and toward the bathroom. He reached inside and flipped on the light and looked around. Nothing looked unusual there. He looked back toward his bed; nothing unusual there either. He walked over to the small kitchenette...everything looked in order. His wallet and keys were on the counter where he normally left them. Confused and feeling like he might throw up, he walked back over to his bed. He was about to lie back down when someone was suddenly pounding on his door...again. Fuck.
“Yeah?”
“Tommy! Open the door!” His father, again. Hoping he wouldn’t puke, Tommy slowly made his way over and pulled open the door. “What did you do?” His father was screaming in his face and Tommy had to back up to keep from bumping noses with him.
“Dad, please! My head is fucking pounding. What are you yelling about?”
“What did you do last night?”
“Nothing. What are you talking about?”
“You left after your mother and I came by, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m not fourteen. I’m allowed to go out, right?”
“I don’t want to hear your smart mouth!”
“Rock, please calm down.” His mother appeared in the doorway. It made sense...you saw one of them, the other was never far behind.
“Where did you go?” his father demanded.
“To the Highway Club.”
“And then?”
“Home. Then I came home. Where the hell do you think I went?”
“Back out to Jace and Beck’s house, maybe?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t go out there. Shit. I already told you that I had nothing to do with that stupid rabbit.”
“It’s more than that, Tommy,” his mother said. “Their house was vandalized early this morning. Someone painted a vulgar picture on the side of it...mostly in blood.”
“Fuck.”
“Watch your mouth,” his father said. Tommy glared at him.
“That’s what you think I did?” he asked, finally. “You think I killed another animal and used it to paint something on their house?”
“No Tommy, it’s more serious than that. Jace just called us. The blood on that house didn’t belong to an animal. It was human blood...a lot of it.”
“Jesus,” he said...and then he remembered that they were there to accuse him. “Wait! Now you think I hurt a human being? What the fuck kind of monster do you think I am?”
“Tommy, we don’t think you’re a monster,” his mother said.
“Really? I’m thinking if I did everything you’ve accused me of in the past twenty-four hours, that I would be a monster, so...?”
“Where did you go when you left the bar?” Rock wasn’t yelling any longer, but he was looking at his son like he was a stranger. Tommy hadn’t ever been particularly close to his father, but he’d never felt like the man hated him either, until now. He turned his back to them, rubbed his eyes, and went over and sat down on the bed.
“I came home,” he said. “I’ve been in bed since. What time is it anyway?”
“Almost noon,” his mother said. “Tommy, there’s a detective on his way over to talk to us. You should get dressed.”
“Why? Did you tell them that you thought this was me?” He looked at his mother accusingly. He had at least thought she was on his side...more so than his father anyway.
“Of course not,” she said. “They know we were out there yesterday, and the detective...he’s the one that arrested you at the town hall meeting last month.”
“Shit,” Tommy said. He’d gone to that town hall meeting as a last-ditch effort to legally get the bikers blocked from building on his ancestors’ sacred land. They wouldn’t listen to him, though, and they tried to dismiss him. He got angry and refused to leave. They called the police and a detective showed up with the officer. He said he was on his way home and heard the call. He introduced himself as Detective Tyler and tried to talk Tommy down. Tommy felt like he was being disparaged...by all of them...and he only got angrier. The detective had the officer put handcuffs on him and Tommy kicked out, striking the detective in the knee. They ended up charging him with trespassing, public nuisance, and assaulting a police officer. He was out on bail and wouldn’t go to court for months. He looked back up at his parents, who were both still staring at him. “Do you mind leaving so I can get dressed?”
They looked at each other and then his mother gave him a sad look before following her husband out the door. Tommy cursed again and as he stood back up, he heard the sound of a car driving up outside his window. He went over and looked out. He could see the detective getting out of his car and a uniform car pulling up behind him. The detective stopped next to Tommy’s bike and Tommy watched as he bent over and looked closely at the seat. Then he crouched down and looked at the tires. What was he looking for? Tommy was pissed at the world at that point. Shaking his head, he grabbed a shirt and jeans out of the closet. He glanced down into the small hamper and realized that his clothes from last night weren’t in there. Normally, that wouldn’t be odd, but he wasn’t wearing them, and they weren’t lying next to his bed. He went back over to the bed and looked on the other side. They weren’t there either...and neither were his boots. He walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light again. His towel from the night before was lying on the floor...but otherwise, nothing was there. His jacket, clothes, and his boots were gone...what the fuck was going on?
6
Jace was pacing the waiting room. He’d been pacing it for over two hours now. The other people in the room watched him warily, like maybe they thought he’d go from worried old man to active shooter in a heartbeat. Even Beck’s family kept a cautious eye on him. Her grandmother tried to get him coffee, water, tea, something to eat...he hadn’t meant to be rude to her, but he’d refused so many times that the last time he was a little short with her and she looked hurt. He didn’t even have the energy or wherewithal, or whatever you called it, to apologize. He was terrified. He was trying to think of something, anything other than his beautiful Beck bleeding to death on an operating table, but he couldn’t. He was working himself up, making himself sick, and nothing was going to help until she was back in his arms, cussing him out about one thing or another.
He had driven double the speed limit on the way to the hospital. Thankfully it was so early that there was hardly anyone on the roads. When he got to the hospital, he left the van in the loading dock and carried Beck into the back of the ER. They took her onto a gurney right away, asked a few basic questions, and started working on her. Jace was p
ushed back out of the way several times as they started IVs and yelled things at each other he didn’t understand. It was a full five minutes before one of the people in scrubs – Jace didn’t know if it was a nurse or doctor – finally looked at him and said, “Is she pregnant?”
“Yes,” he said.
“How far along?”
“Twelve weeks.”
“When did she start bleeding?”
“Just right before I brought her in...maybe forty minutes ago now.”
“Any allergies?”
Shit. He didn’t know. “I don’t think so.”
“Any medical issues?”
“No. Not that I know of.”
“Any other pregnancies?”
“One.”
“Live birth?” Is there another kind?
“Yes.”
“Did she have any problems with that pregnancy?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so...” Jace suddenly realized how little he knew about the woman he loved more than his own life. He looked down at his shirt, covered in her blood. The baby in her belly was his. They were starting a life together and he didn’t even fucking know if she was allergic to anything. Shit. He did more research on the last bike he bought. The nurse, or doctor, left him standing where he was and went back over to where Beck was surrounded by at least ten people. Jace stood there watching, feeling numb, like he was watching one of those emergency shows on TV. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
“Sir?” A small woman with a clipboard was at his side. She was dressed nicely and wearing too much makeup. He didn’t know why that mattered, but it bothered him. Suddenly, everything bothered him.
“What?”
“Can you come with me so we can get your wife checked in?” Jace followed her numbly and she took him to a little cubbyhole near the front of the ER. He felt like a clown in a Volkswagen when he tried to shove his legs underneath the desk. “What’s her full name?” the woman asked, typing already as she talked.
“Rebekah Golden.”
She went through things like her address, phone number, emergency contact...when Jace gave her his name she said, “Are you married, sir? Legally?”
Rise of the Phoenix: Phoenix Skulls Motorcycle Club: (Phoenix Skulls MC Romance Book 1) Page 4