Raine Falling (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club)

by Marinaro, Paula

  I didn’t talk about it, didn’t feel the need to share, and tried not to think about it. The Winston sisters had survived a lot. A lot. Claire and I had barely survived what it took to grow up healthy and whole in a house headed by Jack Winston. Sitting here, now in our safe place, I was mad at myself for not seeking out Prosper earlier.

  The years after my mother died hadn’t been pretty. Not by a long stretch. Despite the promise that Prosper had made to my mother, he should not have brought us back to my father. Jack just didn’t have it in him to be the sole caretaker of two little girls. Jack’s version of doing what “the good daddies do” basically meant instead of going out to drink, he stayed at home to drink. Sometimes I had found myself furious with my mother. Had she really been that naive about the kind of man my father was? She never ever should have made Prosper promise not to separate us from Jack. In doing so, she had sentenced Claire and me to a life I couldn’t imagine that she would have wanted for us.

  Nobody had ever touched us. Jack had kept us safe in that way. Our house was a safe place to be in that way. Even when his friends came over. The rough, big, loud, shadow people. They stayed outside. “Not even to piss,” I heard him say once. “You don’t go in that house where Maggie’s babies are, not even to piss.”

  Maggie’s babies. Not his. Maggie’s. Except for the fact that Claire and I had the exact shade of his deep violet-blue eyes and shared his long thin nose, I had often felt such a disconnect from our father that I doubted our parentage. I had spent a lot of time that summer at the lake house searching Prosper’s face hoping to find some resemblance to us. It didn’t escape me that Prosper was about as far as you could get from the perfect father figure, but he would have been better than Jack. By a lot. At eight years old, I knew that. At eight.

  So because our father basically sucked, our only hope had been me. Sure I could have used that address that Prosper had given us years ago. But the straits never seemed dire enough. I was cooking and cleaning and getting Claire and myself off to school as far back as I remembered. Oddly though, there had always been enough money to get us through. Thank God.

  Getting Jack to remember to pay the bills, however, that was another matter. After having the electricity shut off twice, I knew I had to step up. So at the tender age of ten years old, while other kids were playing with dolls and going to birthday parties, I was teaching myself how to manage the household finances. I would put together little envelopes once a month with the amount due on them. My dad would fill the envelopes with cash, and I would go to Petey’s Variety where for an extra three dollars you could pay your utility and cable bills.

  Our dad never once made me worry about not having enough money. Although he was gone sometimes, he never seemed to work at anything steady. We paid for everything in cash. Everything. Doctors, dentists, and one trip to the emergency room when I fell out of a tree and broke my arm. These were all paid for in cash.

  My father also kept two guns in the house; they were both loaded. One he placed in the drawer by his bed, and the other was, of all places, taped behind the toilet. Claire and I knew never ever to touch them. Knowing they were there never made us feel safe. They made us feel the very opposite of safe.

  You would think that with the men we had for role models in our young lives, Claire and I would have had the sense to look for something better. Neither one of us dated until much later. Just like with the friends thing, our situation hadn’t exactly been conducive to dating the boy next door. We kept to ourselves. When we finally made that leap, we both picked men who abused drugs and then abused us. Yep, Baby Sister and I were not too smart when it came to choosing men.

  Now here I was in the heart of Wrong Man City. The irony did not escape me. But here in that City Of All Wrong were also Pinky and Prosper. There was also the Viking God, who made the best home fries I ever tasted, and who winked at me when he thought I was sad.

  And there was Diego. Who I was hoping wasn’t Mr. Wrong at all. Who I was beginning to hope, with all my heart, was the man I could finally make a home with. I was hoping that, in the heart of the City Of All Wrong, I had finally found my Mr. Right. Maybe.

  CHAPTER 43

  Report in.”

  Prosper had the gavel in his hand. He was seated at the head of the table behind closed doors. It was a few days after Lilah’s funeral. Prosper had left the women behind to do whatever they had to do to clean up the rest of Pinky’s family shit. And shit it had been. If it had been up to Prosper, he would have burnt that fuck house to the ground. He knew what had happened to Pinky behind those walls. But Dolly was there, and his Raine was there too. Pinky had been determined to try and make some green from that shit house. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time that she got some back for the misery that had been her life. So he had left her to it.

  Diego, Reno, Jules, Pipe, and Crow were at the table. Gunner, Ever, and Riker had driven up from Willows Point to sit in on this one too.

  Diego and Crow, looking a little worse for the wear, were sitting opposite each other scowling. They both had swollen knuckles. Diego’s lip was split, and although Crow was trying to hide it, he grimaced every time he moved.

  Prosper knew it was coming and it had.

  The minute Crow pulled up on his bike, Diego had gone for him at a full run.

  At a full fucking run.

  Then the two of them had gone at it like damn kids. Cocksuckers. Stupid brainless motherfucking dumbass sonsofbitches. Brother going after brother. Took Prosper and three members to pull them apart. Not gonna fucking happen. Never gonna fucking happen that his boys were gonna fight over a woman. Even if—no, especially if—that woman was Raine. Neither one of those shit heads was good enough for her anyway. After watching them almost kill each other, Prosper had booted them right in the ass and kicked them both all the way into a meet.

  Prosper had known Diego and Crow for a long time. Too fucking long. He was too old to be playing referee like some kind of father to two horny sons. He told them that too. One of them as bad as the fucking next. Crow making his play for Raine knowing that D had made it clear she belonged to him. Although Prosper had to fucking give it to Crow. When that whore Ellie had given him that in by trying to lay claim to Diego, Crow had stepped right up to take it. Then he went ahead and let that bitch wife of his interfere in the way he always did. If there was ever a cunt, Crow’s ex was one. That goddamn fucking wife of his had been playing him against the club for too long. You love the man, you love the life. Every brother and his woman knew that. Every woman but Crow’s. Pain in the fucking ass.

  Crow had been a wild child when Prosper found him. Dumpster diving and living on the street just outside a reservation in South Dakota, he had been a skinny, wiry kid, with hollow cheekbones and dirty black hair. He was Apache. But looking at him still had made him think of Maggie. Then again, Maggie had been gone by then, and most things came around to making him think about her.

  Prosper had bought him a meal and got his story. Three meals to be exact. The kid had eaten three twelve-ounce steaks complete with three baked potatoes and three salads with blue cheese dressing. He had washed it down with six glasses of chocolate milk.

  When they were leaving the steakhouse, Crow had made an excuse to go back to the table. Once there he had pocketed the tip. Sonofabitch. Prosper had never seen anything like it. He reminded him of that pickpocket in that fucking Dickens book that they had made him read in school. The kid had balls and he was hungry. Hungry in a way that all the steak and chocolate milk in the world couldn’t fill. Prosper liked him right away and a lot.

  After the meal, Prosper had had a sit-down with the Artful Dodger. Crow had been pretty much on his own after escaping a coked-up mother and the string of men who she fucked to keep her in booze and snort. He had run away after one of his mom’s johns tried to get Crow to suck his dick. That’s how he told it. Just like that.

  He had been twelve
years old and lived in a gutted-out apartment building. Ever mindful of bullshit, Prosper decided to assess the situation for himself. If it was as bad as the kid said it was, Prosper was gonna get him away from that. Prosper had Crow bring him around to where he was staying. The situation was not only as bad as Crow had said, it was a hell of a lot worse.

  Prosper brought Crow back with him and gave him a job working around the club. Smart little fucker he was. Pinky got him enrolled in school and the little bastard got straight A’s. Crow had been encouraged by some goddamn guidance counselor or do-good teacher to “realize his potential.” He tried for college and got in. Prosper had been proud of the little shit.

  He lasted two years and met that bitch Jaci during that time. Fancy fucking Jaci. Tiny tits, small mind, no heart. She looked down her nose at everyone and everything. Crow lasted a couple of years away from the MC. Then something happened and he was back. He had left school and he patched in. He lost Jaci in the process, but to Prosper it was no loss at all. Crow had married her in Vegas. Stupid, dumb fucking kid. Guess he was still married to her. At least, that’s what Diego said when he charged after him.

  Prosper ran his hands over his face at the thought of the big fucking mess. Diego had his own motherfucker of a fucked-up situation that Raine knew nothing about. No one did but Prosper. Jesus, he wasn’t looking forward to that shit coming out. Maybe it wouldn’t. That shit was pure pain for D.

  Fucking MC wasn’t anything but a big damn cocksucking soap opera lately.

  But they had other business to discuss. The find that had brought Raine back to the fold had unveiled some very interesting shit. The MC was still dealing with the fallout from that. Drugs and gun running were something the Hells Saints stayed away from. Prostitution, money lending, adult entertainment was where the off-the-radar money came from. The legal enterprises were also pretty lucrative. Ruby Reds and the two other bars did really well. None of the brothers were hurting for green.

  That whole Jamie mess had created a turf war that was threatening to cut into a neighborhood where the Saints had their biggest adult entertainment enterprise. Negotiations had to take place to stop that and quick. Prosper didn’t want any of his girls getting hurt in some drive-by. Not to mention how bad that would be for business. His high-priced escorts had some pretty high-profile locals in their books. Town and city officials, cops, business owners, the fucking president of the Chamber of Commerce, and a few prominent physicians. Yeah, those in Willows Point and surrounding area had their predilections.

  There was also the matter of the sonofabitch, Gino, the rapist and woman beater. The MC had gone in and tossed his house, but he had disappeared. Raine had said that he had dealings with Jamie through Claire. Once Jamie had been found dead, the guess was the bastard had gone into hiding.

  Gino was a dead man walking.

  That was for sure.

  Diego wanted to be the one to pull the trigger but Prosper told him that he was going to have to wait in line. Prosper was gonna take his time killing that bastard. And he was going to enjoy it. But first they had to find him. Willows Point was Gunner’s territory and a half day’s drive from the south chapter.

  It was also where Claire was in rehab. Claire’s time was almost over and Raine was going to go to the Point for the family meeting soon. She also had to clear up some stuff with the house. Depending on where Claire stood with the rehab, Prosper was hoping both girls would decide to come back to Crownsmount and build a life. They could have the lake house. Raine could keep working at Reds, and they could find something for Claire. Or nothing. Prosper could afford to support his “girls” and Pinky was all for it. But one thing was for certain, as long as that cocksucker Gino was alive, Raine wouldn’t be going anywhere near Willows Point without one of the brothers along.

  As far as Crow and D were concerned, Prosper didn’t give two shits if Raine took one over the other as her man. Or neither. As long as she was happy, it was all good with him.

  “Where the fuck is he?” Prosper growled, looking at Gunner.

  “No fucking idea.” Gunner shook his head. “He houdinied himself right out of town. Vanished.”

  “Connected?” Prosper lifted his eyebrow. “How can it be that this little pussy ass disappeared if he ain’t connected?”

  Nods around the table.

  “Shit going down with Claire and Raine being back in Willows Point for even a fucking day, and that cocksucker anywhere in that vicinity, ain’t gonna happen, Brothers. I put his name out there, and Los Diablos became real fucking interested. Gino fucking Abbiati has some connection somewhere.”

  “I checked in with my guy, Gianni. He don’t run with his crew,” Riker added.

  “Those goombahs stick together. You trust that dago to give it to you real, Riker?” Reno asked.

  “Yeah. I hear ya, bro. But in this case, I know Gianni ain’t lying. His sister got jumped a few years back. Gianni caught the asswipe and strung him up. Took him three days to kill the guy. Gianni takes rape real fucking serious. He offered to take him down himself if we ever got a hit on the motherfucker. So maybe those dagos do stick together, but goombah or not, Gianni’s crew ain’t protecting him.”

  “Raine know anything, Boss? She have any idea where the asshole could be hiding?” Crow asked.

  “Leave Raine the fuck out of this,” Diego snarled. “Don’t even fucking mention her name at this table. As a matter of fucking fact, Breed, don’t you fucking ever mention her name at all.”

  Crow’s neck muscles stiffened, and the muscle in his jaw started clenching. He put his hand on the gun he wore inside his cut.

  Gunner for the first time in his life actually did an eye roll.

  “Not this shit again,” Riker muttered underneath his breath.

  “You stupid fucking spic. Your shit’s so jealous that you have your head up your ass when it comes to keeping her safe. Raine. Raine. Raine. Raine.” Crow leaned over the table.

  “Not only am I gonna say it at this table, I’m gonna be calling it out when you fuck up and she’s lying under me. ’Cause, Brother, you’re just one stupid whore away from that happening. When was the last time you talked to that skank from hell Ellie, Brother? She been calling the fucking club nonstop. Jules was thinking about having the shit changed out of the phone number.”

  Diego roared and went charging around the table. Crow roared and charged to meet him halfway.

  It took the rest of the brothers to pull them apart.

  “ENOUGH!” Prosper roared. “You pissants settle this another fucking time. Diego, you fucking figure this Ellie shit out, so Raine doesn’t get caught in the middle of some more fucked-up shit, or I’m going to string you up by your balls. I fucking mean it.”

  Then he pointed at Crow.

  “Crow. Shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down.” Prosper scrubbed his hand over his face and felt about eighty years old. Grown men acting like babies.

  Reno could not believe this. He was getting a mother of a headache. He had had enough.

  Jesus Christ! Over pussy. Brothers fighting over snatch. Dis-fucking-gusting. Ever since she walked into the door of the MC, fucking hell had rained down on them. Prosper going around blubbering like she was a long-lost daughter. Crow and D at each other’s throats. Jules just about tripping over himself to make sure her every fucking need was met. You would think Raine Winston had a snatch of fucking gold. Reno couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t fucking stand it. Even his own mother getting shitfaced on the plane and taking that fucking walk down memory lane. Some things better left alone. One good thing was that at least Diego had gotten rid of that crazy-eyed bitch, Ellie. There was something off about that one. Gone, but not fucking forgotten. Crow was right, bitch was calling the club nonstop. Fucking drama. This couldn’t get any worse.

  Then it did.

  “Reno. Snap the fuck out of it,” Prosper
barked.

  Reno looked around the table. All eyes on him.

  “Yeah, Boss?” Reno answered.

  “Raine’s got to go to Willows Point and meet up with Claire. They got some shit to do at that house. Claire’s gonna need some stuff. She left everything behind at that puke fest Jamie’s house. Cops all over that shit. Raine’s got to settle things at the grandmother’s house. You gonna be with my girls. Fucking white-on-rice until they are done. You feel me?”

  Yeah. I feel you. You want me to babysit the golden snatch and her junkie whore baby sister.

  “I feel ya.” Reno nodded.

  “No fucking way. I’m handling this. No fucking way anybody but me is going to the Point with Raine,” Diego butted in.

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP. LAST TIME, D.” Prosper was done with this shit.

  Crow grinned and leaned back in his chair.

  “Crow, I need you to go up to North Chapter. They are opening a new bar. Need your fucking expertise on that shit.” Prosper looked at Crow.

  “Got that.” Crow nodded.

  “D, need you to head east. Brothers up there might know something about Gino’s connection to Los Diablos or whoever the fuck else that name rings a bell with. Gunner, you good to go with?” Gunner nodded and Diego relaxed visibly.

  Gavel went down once more. Church was over.

  CHAPTER 44

  I was so excited I was squirming in my seat. I couldn’t wait to see Claire. Couldn’t wait. I had talked to her a couple of times over the phone, and she sounded good. Really, really good. We were going to have to go to some sort of family meeting before she was released; then she was coming home with me. Whatever we decided that home was to be. Claire and I, just like always. We would decide that together.

  The only spot that threatened to block out the bright sun of my day was sitting next to me chain-smoking. Reno looked pissed. No, scratch that. Reno was pissed. My heart had fallen to my feet when Prosper talked to me about who my escort for the trip was going to be and why. They were worried about something going on with Gino. I didn’t think I mattered enough to Gino for him to come after me, but Prosper didn’t share my view on that. Plus Prosper said that Gino was involved in stuff that touched the club. Weird. Gino had no way of knowing my connection to the Saints when we met. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that the club had criminal enterprises. There was no doubt in my mind now that Gino was criminal-minded. So I guessed like sought like. Something about water seeking its own level or some kind of crap like that. I wasn’t surprised.