by Jessie Cooke
“You gonna undo me?” Granite asked her. She had to rip off the tape that was wrapped around the chair and her torso, but once she was free, she slid down to the floor and took the knife. Her hands were still “waking up,” so her movements were shaky and awkward, but she managed to cut his feet loose. She was once again in awe of him, as he immediately got to his feet. It cost him what looked like an incredible dose of pain, but once on his feet, he took the knife from her and went toward the cement stairs that led up to her kitchen.
Getting up took longer for her, and when she got to her feet, she immediately dropped to her knees. Her kneecaps slammed against the cement and she had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming. She struggled again, finally standing up on legs that were shaking almost uncontrollably. She stood there, frozen and unsure what to do next with her eyes glued to Granite’s hand on the doorknob. With his other hand he gripped her knife, and blood still poured from the wound on his wrist. He was weak, and Mouse had a gun. This was going to end badly. “Hey,” she whispered, taking a step toward him like a toddler just learning to walk.
He didn’t acknowledge her. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned the doorknob to the right, pushed in on the door, and leaned forward. She was holding her breath, sneaking up the steps behind him. Granite took a step in through the door, and then another. She was almost to the top of the stairs when a hand appeared on his shoulder. He was pulled forward and disappeared, but she heard the sounds of a struggle and she braced herself for the inevitable gunshot. By the time her noodle legs propelled her through the doorway, she found Granite on the floor of her kitchen, on his back, while Mouse straddled his chest, pressed one hand into his throat, and threw punches at his face with the other. The knife was on the floor about a foot away from them, but she didn’t see the gun.
Mouse was so focused on Granite that he didn’t seem to notice her. She took a second to evaluate her options. The knife was on the other side of him. She could kick him, but as shaky as her legs were, that would probably only annoy him. Getting frustrated, and knowing she was wasting time, watching him kill the man on the floor, she caught sight of the carousel of cookware above the island. She remembered for a second how proud her father had been the day he hung it for her. He had made it himself, and her heart ached at the thought of maybe never seeing him again. The idea of someone knocking on her parents’ door and telling them she was dead was what did it. She was suddenly moving, practically flying toward the island and grabbing the cast iron skillet off the hook. She pressed it between her palms and it dangled from between her sore hands.
Mouse saw her and reacted almost at the same second, but just as he tried to get up off Granite, the skinny man on the floor was somehow able to get his hand on the knife and he plunged it into the other man’s thigh. Mouse screamed and turned toward Blair as she struck him dead in the face with the iron skillet. She was showered by the warm blood that squirted out of his nose. His body was thrown backward at the same time and he was unconscious before hitting the floor. At least she hoped he was, because she was sliding down to the floor herself, her very last burst of energy gone.
Blair looked over at Granite. She couldn’t see his chest moving at all from where she sat. She looked back at Mouse. He was breathing and would probably be waking up soon enough. She knew that she had to fight through the urges she was having, to curl up on the floor and close her eyes.
She kept her eyes on Mouse, just in case, as she reached up and put her hands on the island. They were sweaty, and bloody, and they slid off, causing her to fall backward. It was like things were happening in slow motion then. She heard something strange, like a sharp puff of air and she saw Mouse’s body jerk...and right next to his head where a dark puddle of blood was beginning to form, she saw a big pair of black, dusty boots, just before she lost consciousness.
7
Wolf was looking down at the woman in the hospital bed. Her skin was almost as white as the pillowcase underneath her head, except for the bruising across the bridge of her nose and around both of her eyes. It was obvious that she’d been punched in the face, and the thought of that pissed him off all over again. He couldn’t imagine hitting a woman with his fist...any woman. Even when he found out his ex-wife was trying to have him killed, he could have never done that. The woman in the bed...Blair Newman...was gorgeous in spite of the bruises, and he felt slightly ashamed of himself for noticing at a time like this. Her pink lips were swollen...or full...he wasn’t sure which, since he’d never seen her before, but damn they looked kissable. Her dark chestnut hair was splayed out across the white pillowcase and her dark eyelashes fanned out across the tops of her high cheekbones. The color was beginning to leach back into her cheeks, and whatever they’d given her for the pain had slowed her breathing and brought a more peaceful look to her face.
Wolf had caught just a glimpse of her eyes before she hit the floor and they closed. They were dark blue, almost violet. He knew that it was a completely inappropriate time for him to be thinking about how gorgeous she was, but he couldn’t help it.
“Still out?” Detective Meeks, the head of the gang task force and, surprisingly, a friend, had been the first detective on the scene. He’d followed them to the hospital and interviewed Manson, Bruf, and Smoke while Granite was taken to surgery. Manson hadn’t been there when everything went down, but he arrived shortly after. At that point Miss Newman was still in the ER. They were saying that she would probably just have a slight concussion when she woke up...but now it had been over an hour and she was still sleeping.
“Yeah,” Wolf said, feeling even more ashamed of his thoughts, as if Meeks could hear them. “The nurse said it could be the pain medicine. She seemed to be waking up earlier, but she was moaning, so they gave her some more medicine in her IV. You going to arrest me?” The first responding uniform officers had ordered them all to the ground and they were cuffed and sitting on the kitchen floor by the time Meeks arrived. He let Wolf tell him what had happened and then as Granite and Blair were being tended to by the EMTs, he took them out of the cuffs. He took the gun that Wolf killed Mouse with, but surprised him by letting him get on his bike and follow the ambulance to the hospital. He had been waiting ever since for them to come in and take him.
“Not at the moment,” Meeks said. Wolf liked that the detective never lied to him. It fostered the respect Wolf had for him and that respect had turned into a genuine friendship. “But I need you to come with me to the station, now.”
Wolf nodded and stood up. He took one last look at the beautiful woman in the bed. It was probably best that he wasn’t there when she woke up anyway. After what she’d been through, the sight of him at her bedside would probably just scare her. Wolf looked at Meeks and said, “Let’s get this over with.”
Meeks didn’t let Wolf take his bike to the station. He had him get in the back seat of his unmarked car and he drove him in himself. His partner, a Detective Garner, whom Wolf didn’t have much of an opinion of yet, was waiting for them. Meeks put him in an interview room and after about twenty minutes, the two detectives finally came in. Meeks set a digital recorder in the center of the table and said, “This is going to be recorded. Wolf, do you want your attorney here?” Meeks’ partner gave him a look that clearly said, “Why the fuck are you telling this guy to lawyer up?” Wolf smiled slightly and said:
“Nah, I got nothing to hide.”
Meeks pushed the button on the recorder and said, “Can you state your full name for the record?”
“Xavier Lee.”
“And Mr. Lee, can you tell me what your relationship was with the deceased, Rick Crane?”
Wolf sighed. “I didn’t have a relationship with him, at least not recently. Crane used to be a part of the MC I belong to. He went by the street name of Mouse. I haven’t seen him in eight years, though. He was in prison and by the time he got out, he was no longer affiliated with the Westside Skulls.”
“No contact with him at all in eight years?” Meeks
asked.
“Not face to face,” Wolf said. “We kept tabs on him for a while, when he first got out of prison. It was just curious and maybe a little worrisome that he hooked up with the Brotherhood of the White Owl. After a while, though, about a year, it seemed like he had put his time as a Skull behind him and moved on...so, we did too.”
“So, can you walk us through today?”
“This morning a call came into the clubhouse. We were told that our brother Granite...Michael Parker...had been taken and—”
“Taken?” Meeks’ partner asked.
“Yeah, taken...that’s all that was said, except that they would call back at five p.m. with the details.”
“And you didn’t call the police?” Garner asked.
“No.”
“Just no? No explanation?” Meeks looked like he was trying to keep a straight face. He knew that Wolf would never call the police, unless it was him. It was just the way they lived, and Meeks got that. It was another reason why they were able to be friends.
“Yep, just no,” Wolf said. Garner looked like he was going to say something else, but Meeks put up a hand and stopped him.
“Let’s let him finish telling us what happened.” The other detective folded his arms and sat back in his chair. “What did you do after the call?”
“I went to Granite’s apartment. It was a mess. There was blood and signs of a struggle. I talked to a few of his neighbors, but no one had seen or heard anything.”
“You talked to a few of his neighbors...and still, you didn’t call the police,” Garner said. Wolf gave him a look this time and then he went on:
“From there, we went back to the clubhouse. Bruf, my sergeant-at-arms, went to meet with General Brewer...” Garner dropped his arms and sat up straight.
“General Brewer? Roger Brewer? The leader of the Brotherhood of the White Owls?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Garner looked at Meeks. Meeks kept his face expressionless. Wolf was sure that the White Owls had to be on their list of active gangs and he was also sure they were actively investigating them as well. Apparently, Roger Brewer was harder to get to than even Wolf had imagined.
“How in the hell did he get in to see him?” Garner asked. Before Wolf could say anything, Meeks said:
“They’re brothers.” The look on Wolf’s face must have asked the question on his mind because Meeks said, “Something Coyote told me a long time ago. Go on with your story.”
“Well, we waited at the clubhouse for Bruf. When he got back, he had an address where Mouse was living with his girlfriend.”
“He had a girlfriend?” Garner asked with his voice tinged with shock.
“Yeah,” Meeks answered before Wolf did. “He was arrested for domestic assault several months ago, but the girlfriend recanted her story and the charges were dropped. But it was then that he went off the grid again. His PO lost touch with him and so did his therapist. He became a ghost, and no one knew where he was.”
“They were squatting in an abandoned house over on ‘R’ Street. We went there, and she was there, but not him. She said he had gone to see his therapist, but that he’d left hours ago.”
“So that’s when you found Richard Ware?”
“Yeah, piece of shit was hiding out in his office, waiting to hear from Blair Newman, or not. He knew that son of a bitch Mouse was out of his mind and he sent him to her anyways. Why didn’t the chickenshit just call Mouse’s PO and report him?”
“His PO didn’t even know Ware was still seeing him.”
“There was something funky about that relationship,” Wolf said. “We found him literally holed up in his office. I only had to threaten him once before he spilled his guts. He said that Mouse had been off the grid for months but had just shown back up. Ware wasn’t feeling well, so he referred him to Blair Newman. I could tell the man was full of shit, but I didn’t have time to deal with him. We got Blair’s office and home address from Richard, but before we left, I had him try to reach her by phone. When he couldn’t get in touch with her, Manson stayed behind to get more information while the rest of us rode to her office. There was another mess there. We didn’t touch anything. We went straight to her house and you know the rest.”
“Tell me,” Meeks said. “For the record.”
“We walked in, he was attacking the woman. Granite was all bloodied on the floor. Mouse had a gun in his hand and she had a frying pan in hers. I told him to put the gun down.” That was a lie, but who was going to tell? “He didn’t, so I shot him.”
“Are ballistics going to find any history on that gun?”
“Nope. I bought it at a gun show about six months ago. The only thing I’ve shot with it are targets out on the range in Kingsburg where we practice. It’s all legal and registered and I’ve got a concealed carry permit.”
“How does a known gang member get a concealed carry?”
“Same way everyone else gets one,” Wolf said. “I took the class, filled out the paperwork, and boom...there it is. So, that’s everything. Are you going to arrest me?”
“No,” Meeks said, drawing him another sharp look from his partner. “Not yet, anyway. We’re going to talk to Miss Newman when she wakes up. We still have to interview Ware, and if Granite makes it...” Wolf winced, and Meeks said, “And I hope he does. We’ll need to speak with him too. So, it will depend on whether or not the DA decides to file charges after the investigation is complete.”
That was better than getting arrested and sitting in county jail while they decided, he supposed. “So, I can go?”
Meeks nodded, and Garner said, “Don’t leave town.”
“Hurry up and get your shit together,” Wolf said. “I have a business trip planned in a week to Vegas.”
“Business trip?” Garner asked with a cocked eyebrow. Meeks had had enough of their exchange.
“I’ll explain it,” he told Wolf. “Go, and if you don’t hear from me, check in before you leave for Vegas.”
“Will do, thanks.” With a smile at Garner, he left the room and headed to pick up his property. The gun he wouldn’t get back, but that was okay...there were plenty of others where that one came from.
8
“So, Boss, anything else you need me to do before I take off?” It was Friday night. Wolf had checked in with Meeks, and there was no word on an arrest yet. He’d made it through the week...one day at a time...looking forward to either being in Vegas, or county jail by the weekend. It was finally looking like Vegas and he couldn’t fucking wait.
The other thing he’d had on his mind all week was Blair Newman. He couldn’t get her out of his head. He’d gone to the hospital the day after everything happened, to check on Granite. His brother was going to make it, but thanks to broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a hell of a lot of facial reconstruction surgery, it was going to be a long haul. On his way out, he’d gone to the information desk to ask about Blair. The woman there was young and cute, and Wolf flirted with her until she finally told him that Miss Newman was discharged early that morning. He’d left the hospital and driven by her house. The crime scene tape was still up. He had no idea where to find her, or what he might say if he did. But still, she was on his mind.
He looked at Tricia, his best friend. She’d come over and cleaned the house for him, made him dinner and helped him pack for Vegas. He smiled at her and said, “I haven’t had any of that sweet ass in a while.” When all else failed, sex.
Tricia didn’t hesitate. She moved toward him and in seconds their lips were fused together. Sex with Tricia was always hot, even all these years since the first time...when he was only sixteen. He still wished sometimes that their love was a romantic one, but he knew that if that hadn’t happened twelve years into their relationship, it wasn’t ever going to. It didn’t stop them from enjoying each other, though; as long as neither of them were hooked up with anyone...why the hell not?
Wolf had one big arm around her slim waist and his other hand threaded through the hair at the base
of her neck. She melded into him and moaned into his mouth as they kissed. He loved the sounds she made; she was so responsive and so good at everything she did. He could feel her fingernails digging into his shoulders and when he pulled back out of the kiss, her cheeks were pink and she was breathless. They made eye contact and she smiled. He was always careful to make sure she was doing him because she wanted to, and not out of some kind of obligation to the club president. That look in her eyes and the smile on her face told him all he needed to know. He grinned back at her and with one fluid movement, he pushed her up against the living room wall, pinning her hands up above her head. Still smiling he said, “You like that shirt?” She was wearing a light fabric tank top with brown and orange stripes. It reminded him of Halloween.
She giggled. “Yeah, you don’t?”
“Nope, hate it,” he said. “Was thinking about ripping it in two.”
Another giggle. “You wouldn’t dare. What would I wear home?”
“Fuck, babe, you know where my clothes are around here better than I do—you’ll find something.” She started to protest when he grabbed the neckline of the shirt, but she was too slow. He pulled hard and it ripped right down the front, exposing her brown satin bra and the swell of her sexy breasts.
“Wolf!” He laughed and leaned in and began to kiss across the soft, exposed flesh. He sucked little bites of it into his mouth, and before long she was squirming and moaning. He looked up at her with a question in his eyes and she said, “Don’t stop...you can buy me another shirt.”
Laughing, he went back to what he was doing. He used the hand that wasn’t still holding her against the wall to move her bra out of the way and he latched onto one of her nipples. He licked around the outside of it, making her squirm, and then he sucked it all the way into his mouth. He sucked it hard, the way he knew she liked it, and it didn’t take her long to get her arms free from his hold so she could tangle his hair up in her fingers. She pulled on it and pressed on his head and dug her long nails into his scalp. Wolf spent a lot of time on her breasts and by the time he brought his mouth back up to hers, he didn’t even have to touch her to know she was soaking wet. It was nice to fuck someone you knew so well. It had been one of the things he loved about being married...although he might never admit that to his brothers. To most of them the idea of fucking a new pussy every night was what they lived for. But for all Wolf’s big talk, the truth was that all he’d ever wanted was just one. All he needed was one faithful, loving woman...he just wasn’t sure any longer that she existed.