What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  “Boss,” he said with a nod as Jase descended from the saddle. His voice sounded like a gravel truck unloading. Years of smoke, whisky and the kind of shouting only a sergeant major knows how to do had taken its toll on his throat leaving his voice deep and thick.

  Gauge had an expectant look on his weathered face as Jase grabbed his hand in greeting. This was only the second time Jase had been out there.

  “Shit’s gone down.”

  The ex-soldier nodded. He didn’t seem surprised. He indicated two lawn chairs and a table that sat under a tattered awning hanging from the trailer. Now a light pink color, they’d once been bright red, in another time and place. Jase sat down and watched as Gauge carefully placed the rifle on to the table between them and pulled out a flask.

  As Jase recounted the events of the night before and that morning Gauge’s expression grew grim. Once or twice his hand reached up to stroke the butt of the rifle, and when Jase told him about Brodie his hand wrapped around it.

  The face of the retired soldier was hard as Jase finished telling him what had happened. “Brodie was a good man.”

  Jase nodded. Silence surrounded them. A dark, brooding silence; the kind of silence you can almost grab and hold, the kind of silence that forebodes unspeakable violence.

  Gauge undid the top of the flask and offered it with a wave. Jase took it and filled his mouth with the burning liquor. He held it in his mouth savoring the burn before swallowing. He handed the flask back to Gauge who took a quick swig of his own.

  “So you want revenge?”

  “Yes.” Jase leaned forward, his eyes intense as he raised his eyebrows at Gauge. “More than revenge.”

  Gauge nodded. “Destroy them?”

  Jase nodded. “Something like that.”

  A small smile crept across Gauge’s lips. Jase knew it wasn’t exactly a smile of pleasure though. He’d seen it once before, when they’d been working the door of a club together. A frantic waitress had called them inside where an ugly drunk was causing a scene. The drunk had laughed when Gauge had politely told him it was time to leave. Then there was the smile. And then, half a second later, maybe less, the drunk was falling to the floor, his hands beginning to raise to a nose he didn’t yet know was broken. Gauge was fast. Fast and deadly.

  The flask was proffered to Jase again, and as he took it from the outstretched hand he saw the little man hanging from a parachute tattooed onto the web of skin between Gauge’s thumb and forefinger. It was almost cartoonish, but what it represented was not – it was a symbol of the years he’d spent jumping out of planes and then killing his country’s enemies.

  Jase took a swig and let it hang in his mouth before swallowing, enjoying the burn. “So. I want to bring you up. And then I want you to tell me how to get these Mexican fuckheads.”

  “It’s barely been a year since I showed up. Won’t it piss some people off?”

  “So what.”

  Gauge grinned. “So fuckin’ what.”

  “We’ll have to vote on it. But it’ll pass. We’ll do that tonight. Make sure you’re down the clubhouse tomorrow. We’re going to want to move fast on this.”

  “Okay. You’re the boss. But, if you want to do this – I mean really do this – I’m going to need you to listen to me on a few things. We want the Mexicans to be the ones doing all the dying. Not us.”

  Jase nodded. “Of course. You’re the expert on that side of things. If it was up to me we’d be over there shooting anyone who even looks like they’ve eaten beans and rice before right fucking now.”

  The ex-soldier grinned.

  “And Gauge?”

  “Yeah?”

  “For fucks sake, please get a goddamn phone.”

  Gauge just laughed and shook his head, as if the very idea of getting a phone was preposterous. His trailer had no running water, no Internet and was off the electricity grid. He had a diesel generator but he almost never used it. While all outlaw bikers live outside of regular society, Gauge took it to an extreme.

  The faster Jase rode, the louder the engine screamed, the less it hurt. He flew back to the clubhouse in record time, wishing it was further.

  That evening Jase and the Doctor once again sat opposite each other beside Bigfella’s seat. The other members arrived promptly and sat in an expectant silence.

  At 7:01p.m. Doc raised his eyebrows to Jase. He gave a nod in return, indicating that the Doctor should start the meeting. Jase’s fingers were digging into his palms and his stomach felt sick as for the ten thousandth time that day he remembered what had happened to his friend. I can’t run a meeting. Not now.

  The Doctor cleared his throat before beginning to speak. There was no need to bang the table for attention today. “In the last twenty four hours there has been an attempt on Jase’s life, Bigfella was framed for murder, and the Mexicans killed our brother.” Jase watched as Doc’s eyes scanned the room, seeming to check that the words had had their intended effect. There was no need. Everyone was already pissed off.

  Doc continued, “We need to consider how we respond to these assaults carefully.”

  Bottle leaned forward and spoke, “How about we carefully slit the throats of all the fuckin’ Mexicans.”

  Jase sighed as there were snorts of amusement around the table, but he was relieved that no one was in the mood for full blown laughter. “Here’s the thing. First, the Mexicans are going to be expecting us. When we pay them back we’ve gotta do it right—”

  T-Bone cleared his throat in a way that let everyone know he was about to speak and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it. Jase paused to let him have his say. “We’ve been set up. We know this. This shit with the Mexicans has been manufactured,” he paused to wheeze before continuing, “so aren’t we just doing whatever the fuck the person or people who set us up want if we go after the Mexicans?”

  Jase looked around the table. T-Bone didn’t seem to have much support from the angry looks of the others around the table. He is right, of course. But Brodie.

  “They brought it on themselves. We sent Brodie in good faith. They murdered him. It doesn’t fucking matter if we’re getting played. We’ve just got to play better. I say we don’t get in a tit-for-tat war with the Mexicans,” Jase paused for effect, “We pay them back ten, a hundred, a thousand times over. I say we end this war before it fucking begins and wipe them the fuck out.”

  The table shook with the sounds of the members banging the table in agreement. It’s been too long since the club showed its muscle.

  Jase watched T-Bone let out a sigh. “I guess you’re right. But how the fuck can we do it? We’ve dealt with people before. But a whole fuckin’ gang? Can we do it?”

  Jase’s eyes were fierce. “We have to do it. For respect. For Brodie. For too long we’ve been silent. Our influence has gotten weaker. Ten years ago who were the fucking Mexicans? Nobodies. Now they’ve got the balls to do this in fucking Farmington? Bullshit. We have to do this.”

  There were more nods and roars of agreement around the table. The excitement was palpable.

  When it had quietened down Doc spoke. “We’ve lost a member, in fact we’ve lost two members since we last brought someone up. And Bigfella’s not here for now.”

  Lonnie spoke, his British accent always sounding jarring after the others. “What’s the latest on Bigfella?”

  The Doctor looked to his left, at Bigfella’s seat and sighed before speaking, “I’ve been making calls. I think I’ve got a lead on where that bitch who was with him is. Turns out she’s scared or some shit. I tried to send the message that she should be scared if she doesn’t go to the cops. We’ll have her telling them she was getting railed by Bigfella when those bullshit murders happened before the week is out.”

  Jase let out a half smile and noticed the pleased looks on everyone else’s face. He had briefly been worried that the woman would never turn up.

  “So, god willing, he’ll be out soon. Now. You all know Gauge pretty well now, right?”


  “Hell yeah.”

  “Good guy.”

  “Let’s bring him up.”

  Jase was pleased at the general positive response. He had grown to know Gauge better than anyone in the club, but even to him he was still somewhat of a mystery.

  The only voice of dissent came, once again, from T-Bone. “How long has it been? Six months? We barely even fucking know the guy.”

  It was time for Jase to speak again. His eyes were earnest as he looked around the table, catching every member’s eye as he spoke. “It’s been fourteen months now, T-Bone. I know he’s a bit,” he paused to look for the right word, gave up, and continued with the wrong one, “quiet. But I trust him. If we vote him in, I would trust him just as much as any of you.”

  There were mild murmurs around the table. Did I disrespect them? “And I think you all know his history. If we’re going to get the Mexicans, if we’re going to do this properly, we’re gonna need someone with his skills.”

  “I was in the military, too.” Everyone looked at Eag and laughed. While it was true he was in the military, he’d spent his four years on an air force base counting boxes. A far cry from Gauge’s experiences.

  Jase grinned as he watched Lonnie pat the dejected-looking Eag on the back to comfort him.

  The room turned serious again as T-Bone caught Jase’s eye again, “You’re sure?”

  Jase nodded. “Let’s vote it.”

  After the room had cleared Jase felt a small sense of relief. Things were beginning to come together. They’d induct Gauge on Monday. And then? Well, hopefully he’d have a kickass plan.

  “Did you get anything out of the idiots in the warehouse?”

  “Not yet.” Not yet? What the hell were you doing with them? He raised an eyebrow.

  The Doctor gave a smirk. “The problem with idiots like them, is they say exactly what they want you to hear, as you know.”

  As I know? From the look in their eyes I could have sworn they were telling me the truth. “So nothing new then?”

  The Doctor let out a cold laugh. “Lots new. I’m just trying to figure out what’s important, what’s true, and what’s just bullshit. I’m going to go back there tonight. I’ve had Red looking after them today. Watering them and shit.”

  Watering them? Are they fucking plants? About as clever I guess.

  “Alright, well, let us know if they say anything useful.”

  The Doctor nodded, then pulled something out of his pocket. “Better than that, I’ll play it for all of us.” He was holding a small digital voice recorder, the kind doctors used to save them having to waste time typing.

  Jase nodded. “All right.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Mind what?”

  “That I led the meeting. I mean, you can do it next time, if you want.”

  “It’s fine.” And it was. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.

  “Well alright then.”

  “Peace.”

  Jase gave the Doctor a tight hug then headed outside to where his bike was waiting. The stars would be out now and there’s nothing like soaring through the desert on a cool clear night with no company but the moon and the stars. She gave a happy growl when Jase started her up and a few minutes later he was racing fast on the quiet desert roads with no destination in mind but a hankering to get there fast.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Doctor

  The Doctor squeezed the clutch and shifted down to first gear. His indicator light was flashing as he turned into the supermarket’s parking lot. He headed over to the back corner, his bike’s thudding engine setting off a car alarm as he drove by.

  The man was waiting for him. Sitting in an inconspicuous beat-up old Chevy pickup the Mexican gang leader, Gabriel “Angel” Marquez sat patiently.

  The Doctor pulled up alongside the truck and dismounted as Angel emerged. Lean and fit, he looked at least a decade younger than his forty five years. I look younger though. They gave each other cool looks of acknowledgment.

  “We’re even?” asked Angel.

  The Doctor nodded. “Even.” Go fuck a piñata we’re even.

  “Your men okay with that?”

  “Of course they’re not okay with that. But they know we’ve been played – we both have.”

  Angel spat onto the ground in disgust. “Any ideas man?”

  The Doctor sighed. “I’m looking into it. I might have a lead from the meth junkies who attacked Jase.”

  The gang leader raised his eyebrows. “Want us to have a go with them? We’re pretty good at getting tongues loosened.”

  The Doctor let out a soft laugh. “Me too. It’s a bit late for that now anyway.” Better get rid of the bodies soon. The Doctor unconsciously ran his hands over the slight bulge in the pocket of his jeans where his digital voice recorder was located. He had everything he needed from the dead drug addicts right there.

  The Mexican caught the Doctor’s knowing look and nodded. “This ain’t right. We never had no beef with you before. Now we got bodies piling up and my boys aren’t exactly happy either.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Then your boys and my boys can sort it the fuck out.”

  Sunlight glinted off of the gold grill in Angel’s mouth as he let out a big grin. “That’d be good hombre.”

  The Doctor offered a hand. “We cool?”

  Angel grabbed it tightly with his own tattooed hand. Prison tats. Look like shit.

  “We ain’t cool. But we’re okay for now. Keep your men reigned in.”

  The Doctor nodded. “Will do. And the other thing?”

  Angel raised an eyebrow, “You sure you want it how you said?”

  The Doctor nodded.

  “Tonight.”

  He nodded again. “Peace.”

  Dumbass.

  As the Doctor rode away he laughed to himself. Everything was working out beautifully.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jase

  He sat under the appraising gaze of his President. Did we fuck up?

  Bigfella’s voice sounded tired as he spoke, “He seems like a decent guy. Old style. Like when I started out.”

  Jase nodded. “I think so too.”

  Bigfella let out a sigh. “While I’m in here, I don’t get a say, Jase.” The older man caught his eye and gripped his hand. “That’s how it is. I can’t be voting on shit, I can’t be managing shit, I can’t be President of shit while I’m in here. Get me out? I’ll get back on my goddamn throne. But for now, you’re going to have to pilot the club until I get back.”

  “Me and Doc.”

  Bigfella looked confused for a moment as if he’d forgotten about the Doctor. “Right. Yeah. Isn’t he busy at the hospital?”

  “Nope took a leave of absence or an extended vacation or some shit.”

  Bigfella raised an eyebrow. “They can do that?”

  Jase laughed. “He did it.”

  Bigfella grinned. “Well. Truth be told, I worried that one day he’d have to make a choice. And he wouldn’t choose us.”

  “He swore an oath. He’s upholding it.”

  Bigfella nodded and grinned, looking pleased “I guess he is.”

  Jase spoke his next words carefully. Someone might be listening. “So, we should reply to that message we received?”

  Bigfella’s look was cool. That wasn’t subtle enough, was it? “When I get junk mail I throw it in the goddamn trash. I trust you, Jase. That’s all that matters. You have to act without me now.”

  Jase nodded. He couldn’t have expected anything more direct, not in the visitors room of the county jail. Throw it in the goddamn trash.

  “So you’ve got a broad now?”

  Broad. That’s an old fashioned word. “I guess. Maybe. She’s young though. A college student.”

  Bigfella clapped Jase on the shoulder with a big meaty hand. “Young is good. But a college girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  The older man frowned. “College people and o
ur people don’t mix too good, son.”

  “I know. But she seems different.”

  “You sure that isn’t your dick speaking?”

  Jase laughed. “You shoulda’ seen her the other day. Standing over those meth heads? I thought she was going to stomp them.”

  A big guffaw filled the room. “You think she can deal with our lifestyle?”

  “I don’t fuckin’ know. I just met her.”

  Bigfella grinned. “Well I’m glad you’re getting your dick wet again. People were beginning to talk.”

  “People are fuckin’ idiots.”

  “Yep.”

  It was good to chat with Bigfella. When the bell went, signaling that visiting time was over, it barely seemed like five minutes had passed, let alone twenty five.

  Riding back from the jail Jase turned things over in his mind. If all went well they’d have their Mexican problem solved and Bigfella home within a week. His spirits were somewhat buoyed, until unbidden the image of his dead friend’s face and accusatory eyes flashed across his mind as if he was seeing it again for the first time. Even if it all goes to plan, nothing can bring back Brodie.

  Overheard a vulture circled lazily high in the sky, seeming to trail Jase’s motorcycle as he rode.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Carlos Flores lay back on his prison bed and stared at the shiv. Above him his cellmate Raul snored. He was sleeping. He was always sleeping. But not Carlos, especially not lately.

  He hadn’t meant to get arrested, or get sent to prison, or join a gang. Even the order those things had happened didn’t make sense – usually you join a gang, then get sent to prison. But not Carlos. He’d got caught with some marijuana and had the book thrown at him by a racist judge. Now he was serving a six month sentence in the county jail.