Book Two
by Daniella Tucci
Copyright © 2014 Daniella Tucci
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
One – President Eddie
Two – A Leader Without A Follower
Three - Balls
Four - Brothers
Five – Unexpected Guests
Six - Rat
Seven - Betrayal
Eight – New Beginnings
Nine – The Alzheimer’s Call
Ten – Sweet Lucidity
Eleven – Business As Usual
Twelve – Morgan Becomes Human
Thirteen – Who The Hell Are You?
Fourteen - War
Fifteen - Sanctuary
Sixteen – Charity Ride
Seventeen - Sacrifice
Eighteen - Letters
Prologue
Is this the End or a New Beginning?
I never expected to see Cade in such a state. If the best of us can come crashing down to earth, what does that mean for the rest? He may wish to hide behind his faded black cut, worn jeans and black Metallica tee shirt, but he can’t quite do it. Even with the uncharacteristic black shades the pain in his soul explodes all around him. His presence is humbling for those gathered around.
Abruptly a heavy grey cloud, pregnant with moisture, passes in front of the sun and settles in place. A chill sweeps through the crowd as the beginnings of an unusual rain storm is turned loose on those gathered below. No one seems to care and no one is prepared for the ensuing deluge.
I look across the sea of weathered black cuts and what I find takes my breath away. There must be over three hundred Iron Disciples, Latin Kings, and Outkasts represented here today. One would expect to see a sharply segregated crowd gathered here but it would be impossible to draw a line separating the three groups. I can see several prominent Disciples old ladies being comforted by a small group of old ladies belonging to Outkast royalty.
Cade is the first to approach the black casket. I walk with him and stand at his side as he drops a fist full of flowers onto the shiny black surface. It’s beautiful as caskets go, and with the Iron Disciples patch it is stunning. I hand cade the bundle in my arms. He takes the cut and carefully places it across the feet of a brother’s final resting place.
Cade steps back to make room for the long procession of bikers and civilians who have come to pay their respect. The first biker to approach just happens to be the president of the Outkasts. With him is, I presume, his old lady and a boy of about nine years of age. The woman is a stunning blond, tall and stately looking. Not what I would have expected for a biker old lady. The young boy sports a pint sized cut of his own patterned exactly after his fathers. The Outkast president drops a piece of paper onto the casket, then turns to face Cade. The two embrace briefly. It’s a comfortable gesture not an awkward insincere move on the former rival’s part.
Then one by one outlaw bikers approach the casket. Some mutter a few words, others add to the growing pile of objects that must have had meaning for the fallen brother before embracing my man and leaving. Following hosts of bikers come a surprising amount of civilians and I have to wonder what their motives are. Maybe they think that showing up at a high profile burial buys them a certain amount of protection. That’s just paranoid. None of these guys gathered even rates a second look from any of the outlaw groups gathered on this day. There are two separate worlds coexisting here. On the fringe you have the two major outlaw clubs and a powerful Latin street gang called the Latin Kings. Of the three groups represented here, the Kings are the only ones who have any real dealings with the average citizen since they’re selling drugs to them. No amount of showing up at burials is going to curry any favor from the Kings who are all business all the time.
Before the endlessly long line of well- wishers reached Cade I considered offering him a chair. He looked like this giant oak tree that has been so battered in the wind it’s about to succumb with a loud crack and come crashing to earth. But with each hug, each whispered thought, he seems to be taking away a modicum of strength; just enough to keep going and slowly he begins to stand just a little bit taller. He begins to breathe just a little easier and I can see the weight of the world getting just a little bit lighter on his shoulders. I think…I think that just maybe…maybe we can get through this after all. Perhaps we can all go home, pick up our interrupted lives, and find meaning in tragedy. I don’t know about anyone else but that is certainly on my agenda.
Chapter One
President Eddie
“Hello gimp!”
Suddenly my blood runs icy cold in my veins as my brain struggles to come to terms with the person sitting at the head of the table where Cade should be. How the hell can this be happening? I fucking know what this means. It means Cade is dead. My heart begins to sink like a brick in a dark ocean of sorrow…all the way down to the sedimentary bottom where it’ll likely stay. My world closing in around me; suffocating me. I tear my eyes from Eddie’s self- satisfied smirk and look to Scooter for…for I don’t know what. At least the club’s Sargent at Arms seems to have some kind of heart. After a moment I catch his eye but he just stares back with his poker face. He has changed.
My eyes begin to blur and I wonder what the hell is going on with me. It’s like I’m losing my vision or something. I look down at the ground just as several drops of water splatter on my toes. What the hell? Then it hits me. I bring my fingers up to my face and it’s wet. There are tears streaking down my face. Holy shit and fuck me sideways…I haven’t cried since my mother died when I was thirteen. I can’t believe this. I wasn’t able to shed a fucking tear when my dad died, less than a year after my mom passed, but I cry like a child because some biker dude I’m shagging has died? I raise my head, terribly embarrassed and the whole fucking room is fading from my eyes. I cover my face in my hands and all at once I’m taken back to the day my father died.
Fourteen Years Ago…
It was my fourteenth birthday. When I sat down for breakfast before school that morning my dad gave me a letter from my mother. It was one of many letters that my mother pre wrote to be given to me on certain life milestones. My father tells me she wrote numerous letters before she died of breast cancer and left them with instructions on when to be given. I remember so clearly reading that letter. It was like my mom was alive again and speaking to me from the grave. It’s like she isn’t completely gone and each letter from her takes some of the sting out of her death. For me it made my feelings about her death manageable. That morning so long ago I was actually feeling happy when I went to school that day. I had a letter from my mom in my purse and my dad was going to pick me up after school to spend the day together. I was so excited. Then my father died in a car accident. That evening I got another letter from my mother. Apparently my aunt also had access to the letters. I was at my aunt’s house in the spare bedroom. Sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed I was just staring at the walls. I couldn’t believe my dad was gone. Life is so freaking unfair. I already lost my mom. Haven’t I already had more than my share of misery? I guess not. I was sitting there feeling sorry for myself when my aunt walked in with another letter and right away I knew it was from my mom.
“Morgan,” my aunt said to me. “I hoped I would never have to give you this letter; especially at your age. This is one letter your mother prayed never to have to give you. I’m sorry sweetie.”
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Then she gave me the letter and walked out to give me some privacy.
Dear Morgan,
I am so sorry to have to give this to you. It means you have now lost both your parents now; what a cruel world you have grown up in. I don’t know how old you are and I pray you have a family of your own that can help you deal with the death of your father. No one should have to bear their pain alone and I hope you aren’t alone.
Your father was the kindest, gentlest man I have ever known. They say that in every person exists a dark side, and for the most part I believe that; except when it comes to your father. Take time to feel your pain and you will be whole again. Burry it and you will suffer your whole life.
Try to remember everything that was good about your father. You were his princess and he loved you dearly. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. They say that all girls look for their father in the man they marry. I don’t know if you are married or not but I want you to know the man he was so you know what to search for in a future mate, or what to expect out of the one you’re with.
You know that your father only has one kidney but we never told the story of what happened to the other one. He was watching the news one night when they ran a special story about a young woman with three kids who desperately needed a new kidney. He knew right then and there that if he was a match he would donate one of his kidneys. He knew the risks. He knew that there was a chance he would end up needing dialysis to live. His own kidney may fail him and he would need a transplant himself to save his life. He knew the risks and it did not deter him from doing what was right. I asked why and he said that his life would not be complete if he died with two kidneys and was not able to donate one to someone to help them out.
That is the kind of man your father was and I pray you find that kind of man in a husband one day. So mourn your father Morgan. Take whatever time you need, then spend the rest of your days celebrating his life by becoming the best person you can be.
I love you my dear daughter and I am so sorry your daddy has passed on. He loved you dearly.
Love,
Mom
Present Day…
“Hey…Gimp, what’s your deal?” Eddie demands, bringing me back to the present. “You going psycho on us?”
“What?” I ask, still a little dazed by the sudden memory slash day dream. “No…I’m…here.”
“No fucking shit, you’re here. I wanted to tell you earlier,” Eddie continues. “But there never seemed to be the right time to tell an old lady that I just carved up her man. I’ve replayed this scene in my head a hundred times imagining the sad lost puppy look on your face, slumped shoulders and teary face but what was in my head does not do justice to what I see in front of me now. Thank you for that Morgan…thank you.”
It’s not so much the words he says as the tone of his voice and his smug attitude that sends me over the edge again. Even with my walking cast still on my leg I can move pretty damn fast when I’m motivated; and I’m fucking motivated! My blood literally boils in my veins as I launch myself across the table at Cade’s brother. I don’t even realize I went for my knife until it’s in my hand. I dive across the hardwood table and slide right up to Eddie. The high glossy finish makes me slide twice as faster and farther and I have a fair amount of momentum built up by the time I crash headlong into Eddie. I thrust my blade straight towards his gut expecting to get showered with blood and bile but none of that happens. Instead I end up sorta wedged between the end of the table and Eddie’s body. My face nearly ends up in his armpit.
He scrambles backwards and tries to get to his feet and out of the way and is partially successful. As I fight to get control of the situation I feel a heavy thud on m right wrist and white hot pain shoots up to my shoulder. I stifle a cry, bite down on my lip, and continue thrash about.
Strong arms grab me everywhere and suddenly my feet are up, my head is down, and I’m cartwheeling through the air and on to the floor and against the wall behind Eddie’s chair. In one great whoosh the air goes out of my lungs and so does the fight. I struggle to sit up, cradling my arm and fearing the worst. My fingers are numb so I’m guessing it’s broken. I’ve lost my knife in the process as well. Two bikers tower over me. They reach down with unkind hands and roughly yank me to my feet.
Eddie swivels around in his seat to face me with an ugly smile smeared across his cruel face.
“If you’re finished making a fool of yourself I have something you’re gonna want.”
As I struggle to catch my breath my heart is still pounding against my ribs and I can hear the whoosh of blood in my ears. As if things aren’t bad enough, I’ve got major fucking vertigo! If it wasn’t for the assholes holding my arms in their vice-like grips I’d be back on the floor and on my knees right about now. As it is I might just start vomiting on the guys holding me. That probably won’t help my tenuous position right now so I try to keep my tummy in check; for now at any rate.
I raise my head and look over to the man sitting at the head of the table; gavel in hand. I do not believe what I am seeing. What happened to my man? I know what happened; I’m just not ready to accept it. Eddie is holding something in his hand and extending it towards me. It’s a piece of red and white cloth…or paper.
“Come on,” Eddie says. “Take it.”
The two goons holding my arms let go their vice grip on my arms. I walk over to the table and reach out to take it. He jerks his hand back just before my fingers can touch it. Since I was stretching out to take it, it throws me off balance and I fall into the lap of the dude sitting on Eddie’s left. My hand ends up in the man’s crotch.
“Thanks babe, can I get a kiss with that?”
I yank my hand out of his lap and snatch the paper thing out of Eddie’s hand and look at it. There’s an address written on it.
“You’ll wanna go there,” he says. “Sorry about the blood.”
I look at the piece of paper again, then at my hands which also have blood on them. I have to ask the question that has been eating me alive ever since I walked in here and saw the wrong brother sitting with the gavel in hand.
“Is he…dead?” I can barely get the word dead off my tongue and out of my mouth.
Eddie frowns and pauses for effect. Finally he answers me. “No…at least he was alive when we left.”
I hobble out of the room as fast as I can hobble. Someday I’m gonna kill that ugly mother fucker and I’m going to enjoy it!
Chapter Two
A Leader without a Follower
I hobble my way outside and across the courtyard to where there are several trucks owned by the club. I know from experience that they usually leave the keys in the visor. I also know from experience that most if not all the trucks here are stick shift. I poke my head in the window of the first two trucks and sure enough, they’re not automatic transmission. Suddenly it dawns on me. I haven’t seen Stacy around. She could give me a ride. I climb into the first unlocked truck I can find that has keys in it. I sit down in the seat, take a deep breath and call Stacy.
“What’s up Morgan?” She asks when she finally answers her cell phone.
“I need a ride but there’s no fucking way I’m operating a stick shift with one leg still in a cast.”
“So you’re looking for a chauffeur,” she correctly assumes. “Where are you at?”
“I’m sitting in a tow truck in the second row and on the end. You can’t miss me.”
“Be there in five.” She says and hangs up.
Ten minutes later Stacy walks up with Shooter in tow. I certainly did not expect to see him here. Makes me wonder who his allegiance is with? I’m guessing he’s jumped ship and now supports Cade’s brother.
“So you’re resorting to car theft now Morgan?” She asks with a snicker.
There’s something up with her. Right away I notice she is different. There’s an unfamiliar air about her and I just can’t quite put my finger on it. It must have something to do with the company she’s been keeping la
tely. I never had her pegged as someone into bad boys yet here she is. I would have figured living with her cousin would have soured her on the whole biker thing.
“I have to find Cade.” I reply.
“Scoot over then. I’ll take you to find him.”
She turns back to her new man and gives him the longest goodbye kiss ever before climbing back into the truck. She fires it up, pulls out, and heads to the gate. I’m pretty sure they’ll let us by, given my new elevated status in the club. Well…on second thought since my man has been ousted I may not be looked on very kindly.
We pull up to the main gate that is still being guarded by two brothers wielding AK-47’s. This may be a problem. I decide to act like the old lady that I am. Stacy rolls down the window and I lean across and bellow to the closest guard.
“Open the fuck up!”
“Yes ma’am.” He says, and he actually removes the cross bar and opens the gate for us.
Eddie must have called him and told him to let me out. Otherwise the guy wouldn’t have done it, especially because I don’t know him. As I pull out of the Disciples compound I have a million questions running through my confused mind. Number one is how can it be that Cade is alive? This was supposed to be a fight to the death with the victor getting the club. Eddie certainly got the club, but why did he let his brother live? I’m pretty damn sure Cade wasn’t gonna give Eddie that same courtesy. And what’s the deal with the Outkasts now? I am almost too afraid to see Cade. I mean, he could be permanently maimed like I said might happen to him. What if he is paralyzed now? What if his handsome face is grossly scarred for life? Maybe he looks like the elephant man’s twin brother. Shit, this is fucking nuts. I just gotta get there as fast as I can and find out what is really going on. He better fucking tell me the truth too. None of this half- truth or lie by omission thing either. After all I’ve been through I deserve to know what the fuck is going on here.
Old Lady (Iron Disciples Book 2) Page 1