by Jessie Cooke
“Aw,” Callie said. “Well, hopefully whatever it is works out.” The bar phone rang and she picked it up. Jace drank his beer and heard Callie say, “Sure, Dax, no problem.” A few seconds later she said, “Not since he left on the run this morning.” And then again, “Sure, no problem.” She hung up and to Jace she said, “Would you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“I need to go see where Celia’s at with lunch. Would you mind taking some drinks into the office for me?” Jace was about to tell her he’d do it when Beezy stood up out of the booth he’d been sitting in and said:
“I’ll do it.” Callie looked at Jace and he smiled.
“That’s cool. Beezy can do it.” Since Beezy got shot, he hadn’t been able to ride. He was the kind of guy that needed to feel “useful.” Jace didn’t have a problem letting him serve Coyote Lee anyway. He was afraid he’d be so nervous around him that he’d make a fool of himself. Callie was setting up the drinks on a tray when Celia came out of the kitchen with a plate of sandwiches. When the drinks were ready, Beezy took them all into the office, along with a few bottles of water. He was in and out quickly and when he got back that time, he took the stool next to Jace and said:
“Holy fuck.” Spending so much time at the ranch made it impossible for Jace not to hear the gossip that spread like wildfire, but he did try not to solicit it. He could tell Beezy wanted him to ask what was going on, but he resisted. At last Beezy couldn’t stand it any longer and in a whisper he said, “Coyote just told Dax they’re not going to help us anymore.”
Jace frowned. The Southside Skulls was considered the Skull’s national chapter, which made Dax the national president, and that made the Westside Skulls, namely Coyote, his subordinate. Jace was still learning all the rules, but as far as he knew, saying “No” to Dax, wasn’t really an option, for any of them. “You must have heard wrong,” Jace told Beezy.
“Nope. I know what I heard,” he said. Again, Jace opened his mouth to argue but the office door was ripped open and in a voice that did nothing to hide his anger and irritation Dax said:
“Beezy! Show Coyote and his prospect to the gates.” Jace, Callie, and Beezy watched Coyote and the prospect step out and then Dax slammed the door behind them and the entire wall between the bar and the office shook. Neither Coyote nor his prospect, Bruf, looked any happier than Dax had.
26
It was a few years after that when Jace first met Coyote’s son, and like Dax, Wolf Lee looked a lot like his father, but seemed to be at least slightly more personable. The Southside Skulls went through hell fighting with the Sinners, and Dax had almost lost the love of his life when he found out she wasn’t who he had thought she was all along. There were a lot of funerals to attend to along the way, but the most heartbreaking one for Jace had been Clay’s. The old man woke up one morning and looked in the mirror and wondered why his skin was bright yellow. He’d called Jace, who hadn’t given him the option of not going to the hospital that time. It turned out that he had been suffering from pancreatic cancer for quite some time. By that time it had eaten away most of his pancreas, liver, and gall bladder. When the doctor asked if he’d been in pain, Clay had nearly broken Jace’s heart by saying, “All the damned time, but I didn’t see no sense in complaining.” He died three weeks to the day after he found out about the cancer, and a week after his funeral…one that was attended by over three hundred people…Jace found out that Clay had left everything to him.
By that time, Jace had been doing okay financially. He’d taken the money the Colonel gave him and set up a trust for Rosie that paid all of her bills and accrued interest every month. He’d paid off the hospital where Myrna was at, but ultimately, he’d given in to the doctor’s urging, and he had let her go. The sight of her, a skeleton and not even a shadow of herself left in her eyes, was enough to convince Jace it was way past time. He didn’t keep any of the Colonel’s money for himself, but he didn’t spend a lot of what he made either. He was making money from the club whenever he did a job for Dax or Wolf, either one, and they paid him well. He was also making a really nice living working at the shop thanks to the commissions Clay had set up for his mechanics and “artists,” as he called Jace and Kevin.
So, when Clay died and left him millions…tens of millions…Jace was grateful, but he knew it was more than he’d ever be able to spend in his lifetime. He donated a few million to an organization that did research for a cure for pancreatic cancer and another few to an organization that did research for the treatment and prevention of autism. The rest was put in the bank, but if a good cause presented itself, Jace never minded writing a check. The house Clay left him was a mansion, and Jace donated it to Habitat for Humanity. The boat was nice…that, he kept for the days when he just needed to get away from it all. He donated the cars to the men who worked at the shop and kept the Harleys for himself, but what he cherished most of all was that Clay had also left him the shop. It took in a crazy amount of money every month, but that meant little to him compared to the fact that Clay thought he could handle it. That was the biggest gift of all, knowing he’d gained the respect and admiration of one of the best men he’d ever known.
It was late spring, almost summer, when Jace was immersed in creating a masterpiece out of a Harley Davidson one of his customers had brought in. The guy was a collector, a rich man who rarely rode his bikes any longer. He was in his 60s and it was getting harder for him to ride, so he’d turned to entering them in shows. He owned twenty Harleys ranging from sixty years old to this year’s model and he was bringing them in one at a time for Jace to customize, and Jace was having a blast with it. There was still nothing more relaxing to him than tearing a bike apart and putting it back together…better. The one he was currently working on was a 1955 Harley Davidson FL Hydra Glide. It had come in almost in pristine condition with a big twin engine and revised cast tank badges…but Jace could see, as soon as he looked at it, that someone had tried to modify it by modernizing it. He was pulling everything off and starting over, restoring it to exactly what it was in 1955 when it was driven off the showroom floor. He’d just finished pulling the last part off when his phone rang. He considered ignoring it, but one glance told him he couldn’t. It was Wolf, calling from California. Neither Dax nor Wolf called just to shoot the shit or bug him. When they called, they had a job. Jace wiped his hands on the grease rag and picked up the phone.
“Hey, Wolf.”
“Jace, how are you?”
“Doing well, yourself?”
“I’m great. Hey, I have this strange request for you. We’ve got a brother out here who has an autistic son. This kid’s name is Nate and he is the sweetest boy you’ve ever met in your life. He loves everybody, and everybody loves him. He’s grown up here, around the clubhouse, and next weekend is his birthday. We’re having a big party for him here at the club and the one thing this kid wants more than anything in the world is a Harley like his old man’s. I was wondering if you could build him one? I know it’s really late notice, but I’d make it worth your while financially if you had the time…”
Jace wanted to say no, but he knew that he never would. Not only because it was for Wolf, whom he had a great respect for, but it was for an autistic child. He sighed. It was a done deal already. “He can ride?” he asked.
“Nah, he doesn’t have that hand/eye coordination, you know. But I’ve seen some of your amazing work and I was kind of wondering if we could modify his bicycle…or…?”
“Send the guys to Walmart and have them buy one of those battery-operated Harleys. Everything else I’ll need, you should have in the shop. I’ll be there by Tuesday, or Wednesday at the latest. I’ll have to check in on my little sis before I head out.”
“You’re a lifesaver, and a miracle worker, Jace.” Jace chuckled and said:
“Maybe you should save the praise until you see what I come up with.”
“I have no doubts it’ll be a beauty. See you Tuesday; be safe.” Jace chuckled and looked a
t the mess on the floor of the shop in front of him. He dialed his client with the custom show bikes and was happy to find out the old man wasn’t in a hurry to get this one finished. He took care of Rosie, packed up his bike, and headed out west…unaware that by the time he headed back, everything would be different.
“I hate this hot fucking place,” Jace grumbled. He pulled off his t-shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his chest. He could tell that Bruf was trying not to look at the scars on his chest, especially the one around his neck. He was used to it. At least Bruf didn’t look offended by them, just curious. Jace couldn’t blame him for that.
“You sound just like Coyote when you start bitching about the heat. He used to say that when hell got too full, the Devil used the valley for his overflow.”
“He was right. Why the hell doesn’t Wolf ever call me in the wintertime? Do you have wintertime here, or is it always sweltering?” Jace spent a lot of time on the road, but he was acclimated to the East Coast and the severe winters hardly fazed him. They had summer too, but nothing like this. It was a dry heat that felt like it was eating right through you.
Bruf chuckled. “We have a semblance of winter, but nothing like what you’re used to back east.”
Jace shook his head and looked down at the bike he was working on. “I don’t like those pipes,” he said. “They’re up too high. He has anybody riding bitch they’d burn their ankles.” He wanted the bike to be authentic. He’d studied Nate’s old man’s bike, every inch of it, and when he was finished with this one, it was going to be hard to tell them apart.
Bruf turned his head sideways and looked at them and said, “They’re just for show, right? I really doubt that he’ll ever have anyone riding bitch.”
Jace knew a lot of people didn’t understand just how obsessive-compulsive he was about his work. The guys at his shop were used to it. They made fun of him sometimes, but he laughed it off…and then did it his way anyway. “Yeah, but Wolf wants it authentic. Apparently this kid is some kind of savant. He’ll know if it’s not right.” Rosie would know, not about a bike of course, but about anything she loved or was interested in. He hadn’t met Nate, but he had a picture of a male Rosie in his head from what Wolf had told him.
Bruf chuckled. “You haven’t met Nate yet?”
“Nope. I guess I’ll meet him at the party tonight. Gotta get those pipes right, though.”
“Alright, man. I just stopped by to get my bike. I left it here earlier thinking I was in for the night. But I’m on my way to town again.”
“Wolf got you running errands?”
Bruf laughed. “Nope, my other boss. My beautiful wife wants Chinese food. You got any kids?”
“Nope.” Jace liked Bruf, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He wanted to get the job done, show up at the party for a bit, and head home. He had too much to do to hang around for long. Plus, it was fucking hot.
“There was a lot going on when Sabrina was carrying Mason, so maybe I missed all the sudden cravings and mood swings. Or maybe every pregnancy is different, I don’t know. Man, the other night I went all the way into town to get her a pizza and when I got back, she said she was in the mood for steak. So…I went and got her a steak and when I got back with it, she had eaten almost the entire pizza and was in tears because she said she felt like a fat cow.”
Jace laughed. He wished he had a beautiful wife to complain about, and a child. He was feeling more and more hopeless, as he got older, that it would ever happen. “Is she almost due?”
Bruf sighed. “Two more months. Not soon enough. Anyway, you want anything from town while I’m out?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll grab something at the clubhouse when I’m done here. Cubbie was out here a little bit ago. He said the girls made some chicken fried steak. Sounds good.”
Bruf sighed again. “Yeah. It smelled good too when I passed through the club. Sabrina said it made her want to vomit.” Jace laughed again and Bruf said, “Sorry, man, I know you don’t know my old lady and I shouldn’t be giving you the wrong idea. This is all about the pregnancy. She’s usually sweet and thankful for everything I do for her…”
Jace smiled, cocked an eyebrow, and said, “We still talking about Coyote’s kid?” Jace had only met Coyote that once, but “sweet” was not a word he’d use to describe him, or anything he’d heard about him since.
Bruf laughed. “Yeah well, Coyote didn’t raise this one, so…”
“Good for her. Coyote was a cool guy, but I have to say I never saw him as father material.” Of course Jace worried sometimes if he ever did find a wife and have a kid, if his own upbringing had prepared him to be “father material” himself. Bruf chuckled and turned to go. Just as he did, two men walked into the shop. The hair on Jace’s neck stood up and he froze with his hand covering the gun that was still tucked into the back of his jeans. He could tell, just by the looks of them, they didn’t belong.
He saw Bruf cover his own gun and then he said, “What are you doing here, Morrison?”
“I need to talk to Wolf.”
“Then use the telephone.” Bruf said as Jace stepped up behind him.
The gangster-looking man’s face twitched but his voice was still calm as he said, “I’ll repeat myself just this once. I need to talk to Wolf Lee…now.”
“I’ll repeat myself just this once,” Bruf said, parroting the piece of shit in front of him. “If you think you have business with Wolf, pick up the fucking telephone. I doubt he’ll take your call, but you’re free to try.”
The big guy began to slide his hand into his jacket and Bruf immediately went for his gun. At the same time, the sound of Wolf’s voice came from behind Morrison and the bodyguard, and Jace took his gun out of his jeans as well. “What the fuck is this?” As soon as he heard Wolf, the gangster spun around to face him. The big guy stayed facing Bruf and Jace, and they were all three armed now. Jace still had his shirt off and the bodyguard was staring openly at the puckered, crescent-shaped scar that ran across the front of his neck. Jace glared at him, daring him to say something.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Morrison told Wolf.
Wolf cocked an eyebrow and said, “Avoidance would imply fear. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve got a business to run and what I don’t have is time to fuck with the likes of you.”
“We can make this simple. You can pay me for the shipment your father stole, and I’ll be on my way.”
Wolf smiled, wickedly. Even his eyes changed, almost like he really was the majestic animal and Morrison was his prey. “Here’s your payment, motherfucker. I let you walk out of here in one piece…this time…with the understanding that will be all you’ll ever get from me. It’s a one-time pass, though, so I’d take it and go now if I were you. And take your cartoon sidekick with you.”
The sound of the back door opening didn’t make Jace turn, but the widening of Wolf’s eyes seemed to alert Bruf and he spun around. Jace kept his gun on the bodyguard and he knew shit was about to go south when he heard the gangster say:
“This is your sister, right?” Fuck. Wolf’s sister was Bruf’s wife.
“I wouldn’t say another word if I were you. It might just be your last,” Wolf told him in a low, threatening voice.
Morrison chuckled and said, “You bikers and your women. Always so protective. Tell you what, Wolf. You give me what you owe me and I won’t put my giant cock in that pretty little pregnant girl’s…” Wolf bared his teeth and lunged at the short bastard and while the two tangled up on the floor, the bodyguard’s chest suddenly exploded. Jace didn’t have time to think much about that before two more armed men appeared. He and Bruf shot at the same time, taking them both out. By then, Wolf and Morrison were back on their feet and Morrison had his hands in the air and a pathetic, terrified look on his face. Wolf had his own gun out. “You motherfuckers will pay for this,” Morrison said.
“Get out,” Wolf told him with a growl, “or you’ll be joining your friends in hell any second now.”
“I hope you keep a close eye on your wom––” His words were cut off by Wolf’s hands on his throat. He pushed the man up against the wall behind him and held his gun to his head. Jace saw Bruf take a step forward and then look down at his arm. There was blood gushing out of it just underneath his elbow. He tried to raise his gun, but his hand shook as he pulled the trigger. Jace took out the guy he was aiming for and then ran out the door, looking for the rest of them. Behind him he heard Wolf yell:
“Bruf! Fuck, he’s hit. Call 911.”
“Wolf? You okay? Is Jace okay?”
“Yeah, bro, we’re fine. You’re bleeding, though.”
“It’s just a flesh wound. Don’t call an ambulance or the police will be crawling all over us like flies.”
“We were ambushed. We protected ourselves. Jace, call 911”
Jace started to turn and go back inside when he saw her. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, in his eyes even more beautiful than Dax’s Angel. She was sliding onto the back of a Harley with a gun still clutched in her hand. Maybe that explained the bodyguard, he didn’t know. He did know that he needed to take her in to see Wolf and let him sort it out.
“Hey!” He yelled. The blonde turned and looked directly at him and for a few seconds he froze. If she wanted to kill him, he would have been dead. Her blue eyes were incredible, even bluer than Dax’s or Doc Marshall’s. She looked like a Barbie doll, dressed in leather and carrying a cannon. She smiled at him and with her free hand flipped him off. Then she proceeded to start her bike. Jace finally came to his senses and dashed toward her. Before she could kick the bike into gear, he put his big arm around her waist and scooped her up off the bike. The gun fell out of her hand, but she began to kick and spit like a feral cat. She was cussing at him, but he didn’t say a word to her, he just carried her back inside. Wolf was on his phone and Jace asked him and Bruf, “You know this one?”