by Beth Flynn
"Yeah, that's what my mom told me. Unfortunately, Aunt Jodi convinced her to stop for lunch. It wasn't her fault. The chances of them running into any bikers from the old days were slim. Of course they never counted on Blue owning it or being there that day. He saw my aunt Jodi coming out of the ladies room and thought it was Mom. It could've been a disaster, especially after my mother stepped in to formally introduce them and he let on that he used to be Grizz's number one guy." I looked heavenward and rolled my eyes. "My aunt despises bikers, and was really awful to Blue. But Mom said he didn't seem offended, and apparently he respected Mom's privacy with her new husband enough not to probe further."
I saw the question in Christian's eyes. "No, he absolutely, positively does not have a clue that Grizz is actually Mom's new husband. He thinks we moved to Montana like she told him when we left South Florida. She felt she owed him that much. Even though we didn't see a lot of him, I was raised thinking Blue was my uncle."
Christian nodded his head. He apparently already knew that story.
"So tell me," I said.
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me more about Blue."
Chapter 31
Fort Lauderdale, Florida 2002
Five Years Earlier
Keith "Blue" Dillon stood in front of his bathroom mirror and scowled at his smooth-shaven face and short hair. Blue had cleaned up for his so-called girlfriend with the ridiculous name—Detective Dicky Fynder—only to come to the surprising realization she hadn't wanted him on the straight and narrow. He shook his head and scoffed at himself when he reflected on the sacrifice he'd been willing to make for her, and grateful that Grizz's blessing allowed him to remove himself from the gang without repercussions. After Grizz's death by lethal injection, Blue could've automatically assumed his right as club president. A position he thought he didn't want. He'd been wrong.
Even though Blue had distanced himself as much as possible, he was still welcomed by some of the older members who respected him. Those that didn't were too afraid to cross him. Maybe he still had some pull after all. The younger, newer members of the group had heard the stories about their glory days. The ones that knew what Blue was capable of kept their distance. The ones that didn't, risked mouthing off and catching him on a bad day.
He leaned away from the sink and ran his hand through his short hair as he thought with self-disgust how soft he'd become. The old Blue would've put that seedy little shit in the ground that attempted to rape Mimi. Instead, Blue tried to give Mimi's father, Tommy Dillon, a courtesy call to let him know what he'd heard on the street, but he'd been too afraid of messing things up with Dicky to do what he should've done himself. Blue was certain that Mimi had no way of knowing that Grizz was her real father. But that shouldn't have mattered anyway. Dead or not, Blue owed Grizz his loyalty. Nick Rosman shouldn't be alive.
In the end, Blue’s decision to fade away from gang life, not retaliating for Mimi's attempted rape, even his altered appearance were all for naught. After realizing that Blue left the club, Dicky flat-out dumped him. He was only as good as the information he could unwittingly feed her, and if he was no longer involved, he was no longer privy to the info she craved. And since he would never be a deliberate informant, not even to keep her in his life, he was useless to her, and she let him know it. Never again, he told himself. Never again will I let myself care for another woman.
An hour later he pulled up to the back of a run-down warehouse that was a front for the gang's headquarters. An old member who'd done his time and was released ran Grizz's old crew now.
Apparently, Mickey Moran had learned a lot while serving out his sentence in a maximum security prison. He used to go by Monster back in the day. A nickname he'd lived up to. A calmer, more composed Mickey emerged from behind bars and after slowly immersing himself back into the group, convinced them they needed a fresh start. He'd given them a new name, and a new patch which at first they were reluctant to accept. But after earning the respect of the new members, and surprising some of the older ones with his newfound leadership skills, they finally relented. Blue should've objected when Mickey showed back up after Grizz's execution, but he'd been so relieved to have an out without feeling guilty, he'd passed the baton to the man without so much as a backward glance. He was now regretting that decision. Not because Monster wasn't doing a good job, but because it was Blue that should've been doing it. He was certain that Grizz would be turning over in his grave to learn who was now running the old crew.
He revved his bike and watched as the tall set of metal doors lifted. He slowly drove in and noticed a young guy he instantly recognized. The man nodded at Blue, and then pressed the button so the door would slide back into place. Blue was certain he was looking at one of Anthony Bear's boys. Which one, he wasn't sure. He didn't remember ever knowing their names. He did know that it was because of one of them that Nick Rosman hadn't been able to carry out his misguided attempt at filming his sexual assault on Mimi.
After pulling into the warehouse, he parked his bike with the others and headed for the meeting room. So different from the days when they'd conducted business around a fire pit at a run-down motel.
He walked into the ramshackle office and headed for the refrigerator in the small kitchen area. He grabbed a beer and plopped himself down in a chair. Several men nodded, including Mickey, who no longer went by the name Monster.
"Glad you're here, Blue," Mickey said. "We could use some input on the Phillips’ deal. It's a little more delicate than what we're used to. Maybe some of our old gang tactics might be useful here. You were around back then. What do you think?"
Blue took a swig of beer and set the bottle down on the table. He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to the new Monster, and sure as shit couldn't say if he would ever trust him.
"You were with our crew back then, Mickey. How do you think it should be handled?" Blue asked, the confrontation obvious in his reply.
There was no indication in Mickey's expression that he heard the challenge in Blue's voice. As a matter of fact, his smile seemed sincere when he replied, "I was too busy fucking and fighting back then to pay attention."
After business concluded, the senior members wandered out to where the bikes were parked. Several more had shown up during the meeting and were now sitting around in chairs or standing off to the side.
One yelled out, "When are the whores getting here?" Almost all of them were engaged in conversation with each other, except for one.
Blue approached the guy who was leaning up against a pallet of stolen computers.
"Are you Bear's oldest or youngest?" he asked Christian.
"Youngest. I'm Chris," he told Blue. "I already know who you are."
"Isn't this a school night?" Blue asked a little sarcastically.
Christian tensed and told him, "I graduated, and before you ask, I'm not the college type."
"Does your dad know you're here?" Blue asked, this time in a voice that was more curious. "I know that he moved here from the other coast to distance himself from his old crew. Heard he's completely clean now. Runs a successful business. I'm surprised he'd allow this."
"He didn't allow anything," Christian sneered as he pushed himself away from the pallet. Walking away from Blue he called out over his shoulder, "He's the one who sent me."
Chapter 32
Fort Lauderdale, Florida 2007
Slade Bear drove up the long driveway and was relieved to see both his parents' vehicles in their open garage. His mother had been insisting for days that he stop by, and when he'd called this morning to see if he could bring lunch, she hadn't been sure if his father would be around, but insisted Slade come anyway. He normally wouldn't visit them in the middle of a work day, but something had been nagging at him. It was as good a time as any to casually approach them, and get a feel for their thoughts on Christian’s trip to Jacksonville. He knew there was the distinct possibility that Christian was up to no good, and could bring unwanted attention to him, his
family, and the motorcycle club he’d joined as a teenager.
Letting himself in the front door, he called out, “Who’s hungry for lunch?”
Christy came out of the hallway wiping her hands, and Slade immediately detected a hint of the lotion she applied to them a couple times a day.
“Your call this morning was a nice surprise!” Christy exclaimed as she approached her son and pulled his face down to kiss him on the cheek.
Slade gave his mother a knowing grin. "Not like I had much choice. You can be very persuasive."
“Are you on your lunch hour?” Ignoring his comment, she looked at her watch and mentally gauged how much time they would have for their visit since the courthouse was a good distance from their home in the suburbs.
“Yes, but I have more time than usual. I don’t have to be in court because my case has a forty-eight hour continuance.” He held up the bag he was carrying. “Brought your favorite Italian subs. Where’s Dad?”
“He came home from work when I told him you called. He’s in his shop now. I’ll call him. My phone is charging in the kitchen.”
Slade followed his mother and could see his father walking toward the house through the glass doors that opened onto their deck.
Christy saw him too and commented as she pulled out plates and napkins, “I guess he saw you drive up.”
After Anthony met them inside, and Slade explained once again that he had some free time away from the trial, they sat at the table and dug into their sandwiches.
“Tell me about the girl you mentioned you saw in the law library,” Christy said before taking a sip of her drink.
Slade had been getting ready to take a bite of his sub and stopped. “There’s nothing to tell. I talked to her a little bit. She’s a librarian at a local school and works in the law library during her school’s spring break.”
“You talked to her enough to find all of that out?” Christy looked at her son, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“Don’t, Mom,” Slade said and took a bite of his sandwich. He slowly chewed his food, and watched Anthony signal his wife to let it go. As much as Slade appreciated his mother’s concern for his non-existent social life, the last thing he wanted was to have her hovering around it. He could’ve kicked himself for mentioning Bevin. A little over a week ago, his mother had asked if he’d met anyone at the courthouse who he found interesting, and like an idiot, he gave up that he’d spotted someone in the law library that he might like to meet. He should’ve known Christy would follow up. Time to steer the conversation toward his real reason for caving into her insistence he make time to see his family this week.
“Have you talked to Christian since he left for Jacksonville?” Slade casually asked.
“Yes.” Christy reached for a bag of chips and tore them open. “Twice.” Pouring chips onto her plate, she remarked, “Once when he first left and again, yesterday.”
“He called you from his phone?” Slade paused. “Or answered his?”
Both Anthony and Christy stopped what they were doing and gave Slade a suspicious look.
“What is this really about, Slade?” Anthony asked, his eyes narrowed.
Slade shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just worried about him,” Slade confessed. Without giving his parents time to comment, he quickly added, “He answers my texts, but doesn’t take my calls. I can’t figure out what’s in Jacksonville that he would even consider moving there. Especially with—”
“No,” Christy interrupted. “He didn’t call me from his phone. Both times he told me that his was charging, and he had to use his friend’s phone. He sounded upbeat. Actually, a little too happy now that I think about it.” She cast her husband a worried glance.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Anthony reassured her at the same time the doorbell rang.
After trying to disguise their shock at seeing Carter's husband, Bill Petty, standing at their front door with his laptop under his arm, Anthony and Christy invited him in and asked him to make himself comfortable in their great room.
Bill and Carter Petty had been close friends with Grizz and Ginny. Bill willingly took on the responsibility for maintaining the façade that Grizz had died by lethal injection in 2000. He was a computer genius who could hack any system, create false information, and cause the real stuff to permanently disappear. Not to mention the myriad of other computer skills that would frighten the general public into tossing their electronics in the garbage. Bill had once written a program that allowed him to manage an airborne helicopter’s controls from the ground. He hadn’t created it because he intended to use it. He only did it to see if it could be done. And the results scared even him.
Prior to Grizz and Ginny’s move out of Florida, Bill had written several programs that routinely scanned the internet for any inquiries about Jason “Grizz” Talbot or his family members. The program he designed did one of two things. Depending on the query, it either rerouted the user to bogus sites, sending them down bottomless rabbit holes that led nowhere, never revealing any information about Grizz or his glory days as one of South Florida’s most feared motorcycle club leaders. Or, it zapped the user's computer with a virus that shut it down. The two years after Grizz’s supposed execution, followed by the tragic death of Ginny’s second husband Tommy “Grunt” Dillon, had been the busiest. But as time passed and the macabre fascination died down, Bill’s program had mostly been used to block queries from curious ex-classmates and friends of Ginny’s children, Mimi and Jason Dillon. However, with social media evolving at an alarming rate, Bill had to continuously update his program to detect these searches. And it was becoming more difficult.
After setting his laptop on the Bears’ coffee table, he sat down and clasped his hands together. Looking from Slade to Anthony, to Christy he said, “What I need to discuss with you is sensitive.” He shot a glance back at Slade.
“Time for you to leave, Slade,” came Anthony’s brisk response. There would only be one reason for Bill Petty showing up at his home. Anthony knew this had to do with Grizz.
“No,” Christy interjected, giving Anthony a challenging look. “He’s mature enough to be trusted with what we’ve kept secret for six years. Who knows how it might one day affect this family. And if by some chance it does, he should be prepared. One of our boys should know the truth, Anthony.”
Bill deferred to Anthony who nodded.
Christy could see on her husband’s face that Anthony knew she was right. She also knew Anthony had always considered Slade the less temperamental of their two sons. Slade was the responsible son. The ambitious son. The smart son who made his decisions based on facts, not feelings. Besides, Bill showing up in their living room with his computer would only pique Slade’s curiosity, and might even send him down a rabbit hole of his own.
Nodding his head, Bill opened his laptop. “Okay then. You both know I keep tabs on Grizz and his family.” It was a statement, not a question and all three of them cut their eyes to Slade’s to see if the comment registered. Slade’s expression didn’t reflect surprise or curiosity.
I wonder if he’s known or suspected all this time? Christy thought before returning her gaze to Bill.
“Normally, my programs monitor and deal with all internet searches on the family and shut them down before they go anywhere. I get a printed report every time this happens. It’s unsettling how fast technology is growing, and it's getting increasingly difficult to stay ahead of it even with my programs continuously being updated. Using recent pictures that Ginny provides, I keep a facial recognition program running at all times.” He swung his laptop around and showed them the picture of Mimi with her friends. “My program didn’t catch this picture of Mimi for a couple weeks, but when it did, it took it down.”
“Okay.” Christy tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes.” Bill hesitated. “But there’s more and you’re not going to like it.”
Anthony, Christy, and Slade listened as Bill
explained how it took some time, but his facial recognition program detected another similar program that linked to the picture he’d just shown them.
“So someone else was looking for Mimi,” Anthony interrupted.
Christy noticed Slade stiffen in his seat.
“I traced the software to a kid named Seth. I did a search on Seth and found a connection to your youngest, Christian.”
“And?” Christy prompted.
“After hacking every camera near Seth’s home, I found this.” His fingers clacking on the keyboard resounded in the quietness of the room. He once again swung the laptop around to face them and watched their expressions as they saw a grainy picture of Christian getting out of his truck.
“Christian isn’t in Jacksonville, is he?” Christy sighed. Purposely avoiding her husband's hard stare, she looked from Bill to Slade and back to Bill again.
“His phone is,” Slade chimed in. “I ran a trace on it and it’s been showing up in Jacksonville. Mom, you said he called you but not from his phone.”
“I traced his phone too and got the same result,” Bill added. “It’s in Jacksonville. What number did he call you from?” His gaze was focused on Christy.
Christy got up and ran to get her phone in the kitchen. Returning quickly, she handed it to Bill, and stood over him watching him type.
“How long will this take?” she asked.
“He’s in South Carolina,” Bill announced after getting an immediate response for his search.
“Why would he be in South Carolina?” Christy asked, a worried frown on her pretty face.
“It’s where Mimi goes to college,” Slade and Bill said at the same time.
All three of them glanced at Slade, and he shrugged. “It’s a palpable assumption.”