by Debra Kayn
None of them watched behind the car.
He rounded the back fender on the left side, raised his gun, and opened the back door. He slid into the seat behind the driver. "Nobody move."
The woman beside him remained leaning against the window, her eyes closed. Swiss made eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror as the passenger stared at the driver in fear.
"Raise your fucking hands, real slow, and put them on the steering wheel. One wrong move or you go for the weapon you're carrying, and I have no problem putting a bullet in the back of your fucking head," said Swiss, keeping his pistol steady.
The driver put his hands on the wheel. Swiss tensed. The man had a sparrows tattoo on his right hand.
"You, in the passenger seat, put your hands on the dash," he said, looking for a tattoo.
Motherfuckingbingo.
Two inked Sparrows proclaiming their loyalty to the Yesler Street Gang. Beside Swiss, the woman was still out cold.
In the distance, the low rumble of motorcycles filled the car. Swiss stuck the end of the pistol at the back of the driver's head.
"Who do you answer to?" he asked, gazing in the rearview mirror at the driver's face.
"No one." Sweat ran down the man's temples.
"Tell me another fucking lie. Are you claiming the job in Seattle when you took out two people at Loans by Day?" He watched the passenger flinch out of his peripheral vision at the mention of the name.
The men gave him silence as an answer. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I do believe we have some more things to discuss. In about sixty seconds, there will be some bikers rolling down the street. You're going to let them escort you out of town. I'll take you somewhere more private where you can piss your pants when you decide it's smarter to open your mouth."
Battery, LeWorth, and Grady rode alongside the car and stopped in the middle of the street at the end of the block. The other Ronacks had the other end of the street blocked. There was nowhere for the man to drive, except forward.
"Start the car and follow those riders." Swiss scooted back, kicked the back of the passenger's seat. "You, put your fucking hands on the top of your head."
The car rolled forward away from the curb. Surrounded by his club, Swiss reached over to the unconscious woman beside him and put his index and middle finger over her carotid artery. Her pulse was slow. Damn. The woman was his ticket to finding out if he had the right people.
Going on Gia's theory behind the crime—which was good enough for him—he had the killers of the Seattle murders in his hands. But, the club would want more. He needed solid proof.
Battery led them all onto Interstate 90. Ten minutes out of town, the caravan escorting the Yesler Street Gang members took a now defunct rest-stop-only exit that stated it was closed. Swiss flexed his left hand. The outbuilding had been closed for at least two years. The grass overgrown, the asphalt parking lot was breaking up from neglect and full of pot holes.
There wasn't a car or person in sight at seven o'clock in the morning. Swiss gazed out the side window satisfied with the location. Unseen from the interstate, the closed rest area was the perfect place to conduct business.
"Pull over at the end of the lot," said Swiss.
The passenger glanced at the driver, shook his head. Swiss kicked the seat.
"Turn off the engine and set your keys above the visor." Swiss opened the door and left the vehicle.
Keeping his pistol trained on the driver, he motioned with the gun for them to step out of the vehicle. With over a dozen bikers surrounding the car, he wasn't worried about either one of them going for their weapons or running. They'd have a bullet in their chest before they could raise their arm.
Battery walked up to Swiss. "How's everything going?"
"Put them on the grass and have them wait." Swiss slid his pistol into the back of his jeans.
When the car was clear and the two men contained, Swiss returned to the car and rummaged through the woman's purse. Her driver's license, if it was real, stated she was twenty-five years old, and her name was Sue Dillon from Seattle, Washington. He dumped the contents of her purse on the seat and found two empty plastic sandwich baggies, a used syringe with heroin residue, and a dirty spoon.
At least he understood how the Yesler Gang worked. They used female addicts to do their dirty work. He squeezed between the two front seats, opened the glove box—nothing, and being careful in case there were any needles, he went through the side pockets on the front doors.
His fingers felt around a circular tube and pulled it out. He tapped down his anger. An empty lipstick container stained red on the inside. A perfect match to the color of the message written on Gia's car.
He extracted himself from the vehicle and removed his pistol. Walking toward the men laying on the grass, face first, he said, "Someone needs to dump the car and the unconscious woman in the backseat over the state line, and then put a call in with the location. The rest of you can get out of here."
"Swiss?" Battery stepped up beside him. "I recognize the tats. The license plate is out of Washington. Are you running on gut?"
Swiss tossed the empty container of lipstick in the air.
Battery caught it, opened it up, and whistled low. "Everyone ride out. LeWorth, take the car. Choke, you follow, and give him a ride back to the clubhouse."
Swiss stepped closer to the men while Battery finished orders. He squatted down at their heads. Fear had already planted itself in them. The passenger had pissed his pants. The driver hyperventilated, laying soaked in sweat.
"You've got one chance to save your lives." He reached out, grabbed a handful of hair from the driver, and lifted his head. "I'll make it real simple. Yes or no? Did you kill two people in Seattle at Loans by Day and plan on taking out the woman living with me?"
When the man refused to answer, Swiss shoved the pistol under the man's chin. "You've got three seconds, or you're a dead man."
The man grunted. "Fuck you."
Swiss backhanded him with the butt of the pistol. "Yes or no?"
"Yes," said the man with a grunt.
He kept tension on the trigger of his gun, sighed over the knowledge that he had the right men, and let the man's head fall forward to the ground. Swiss looked at Battery, who nodded. He had everything he needed.
Swiss lowered his voice. "In a few minutes, I'm going to put a hole in the back of your head. It's not going to do either of you any good to talk, so listen closely. You've come after my woman, and that's enough for me to bury you. But, if I find out you've touched my daughter, I swear to the motherfucking devil that I will take out every single member of Sparrows and kill them. Your crimes will fall back on them."
The air around Swiss quieted. One man prayed. He stood and backed away ten steps. Aware of Battery standing beside his motorcycle out of fire range, covering Swiss's back, loyal to the death, Swiss pulled the trigger and shot the driver. Before the passenger could move, he pulled the trigger again, taking him out.
His hand squeezed the grip as he waited for any sign of life. He inhaled four seconds and exhaled four seconds. He settled. Glad for the training he'd received in the Army.
He put his pistol away, took out his smokes, lit a cigarette, and walked over to Battery. His president watched him carefully, and he nodded to let him know he was fine. The job was done.
"Gia's safe," said Swiss.
"Unmarked pistol. No witnesses. Two men tagged as Sparrows. I think we can save our energy and leave them laying in the grass. We can let the state patrol do their job." Battery stroked his beard. "Looks like you're riding back to Haugan behind me."
"Fuck," muttered Swiss. "At least drop me off at my bike. I'll ride my Harley back to the duplex."
Battery grinned as he straddled his motorcycle. "Just watch your hands. Bree gets jealous."
Swiss eyed the sissy bar at the back of the seat. "When in the hell did you put that on?"
"Shut the fuck up and get on."
"Jesu
s..." Swiss lifted his leg and squeezed between Battery and the backrest. "Scoot up."
"I am."
His legs wouldn't bend far enough to use the pegs, and he strained to keep his boots off the ground. He kept his gaze on the dead men as Battery rode out and waited for a break in traffic before getting on I-90. The situation with Gia wasn't over by a long shot, and the worst case scenario played in his head, preparing him.
Chapter Thirty Two
Swiss sat on the couch beside Gia. She held his hand. By the time he came back to the duplex, talked to Rod outside, took a shower, and returned to her with his hair still damp and smelling good, insecurities she had no idea she owned hit her hard until her stomach threatened to revolt.
"Rod wouldn't tell me where everyone went and when you came back, you sent everyone home." She brought his hand to her chest and held on to him tightly trying to understand how everything changed from the time he left and the time he came home. "Even Mel left."
"It's over, sweet." He let his head fall to the back of the couch and turned his gaze to her. "When I was outside cooling off, a call came in. One of my MC brothers spotted the vehicle and the men not far from Pine Bar and Grill. I took care of the problem and now you don't have to worry about anything, anymore, and you're safe. They won't be bothering you again. They're gone."
"Gone?" She pressed his hand against her cheek, afraid to believe he was telling her the truth. "Gone, as in back to Seattle?"
He wiggled his hand free, put his arm around her, and tucked her against his bare chest. "I took care of them. They can't and won't threaten or hurt you or go after anyone you know again. Ronacks made sure that everything ended."
"What's that mean?" She angled her head to look at his face and panic caused her voice to grow higher. "Are they dead? Did you kill them?"
"Do you trust me?" He spoke calmly. There was no anger or tension coming from him.
She nodded.
"They're gone, sweet. There is no chance of you seeing them or being the subject of their threats every again. Let's leave it at that." Swiss cupped the back of her head.
"Oh my, God, Swiss. What have you done?" Her heart raced. "Do the police know?"
His silence destroyed her.
"I never asked you to kill them," she whispered. "I never thought..."
"Gia." Swiss held her firmly. "The men were from the Yesler Street Gang and admitted their role in killing your co-workers and coming after you. These are not normal men."
"But, you could get arrested," she said.
His gaze burned hot. In that second, she understood how Ronacks Motorcycle Club worked. Whatever he'd done, whatever happened, he'd regained the confidence, his rock status he'd lost when he found out Bianca was his daughter Heather. He held up his promise of protecting her.
"What Ronacks does when trouble hits someone we're protecting and what I do when I promise someone protection is dealt with through the club. The club doesn't discuss business with anyone, including you. All you need to know is it's over."
"God, Swiss." She swallowed hard. "This isn't real."
"It's real."
She looked up at him. "It's over?"
He nodded. "You're safe. Nobody is ever going to hurt you."
She closed her eyes, letting everything sink in. It was too soon. She was disgusted and yet relieved. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel.
"There are some things about my past that I need to talk to you about." Swiss cleared his throat.
She opened her eyes and whispered, "Heather?"
All morning while Swiss was gone, she'd had time to think about Bianca lying to her about her name and her relationship with Swiss. The hurt Bianca or Heather, whatever she wanted to call herself, caused Gia couldn't compare to what Swiss was going through. She failed to understand the depth of his pain. It was as if Swiss had wanted his daughter out of his life.
"I married young. Too young." Swiss stroked Gia's cheek with his thumb. "Anita, my ex-wife, was fresh out of high school. She had big dreams for herself, and those dreams included me. I was more than happy to make her smile, and I think I did when she found out she was pregnant."
Her chest constricted. Drawing air into her lungs hurt, and she held her breath until she couldn't any longer and then, she held on to his words.
"Around here, jobs were...are few and far between, especially for a young couple with a baby on the way. Once Heather was born, we struggled like most couples do when money is tight and things are stressful in the home with a new baby that equally captivated us and frightened us at the same time. After two years of marriage, I could see that our whole relationship was about fighting and making up. There wasn't much middle ground. I decided to do what I could to make our marriage better. So, I followed my big brother's footsteps and joined the Army. I could see how my brother had gone into the service, and he'd came back to Haugan smarter, more mature, and he had a reliable income he could count on. The day I joined was one of the best days of my life, and I expected Anita to be happy for us."
Gia studied Swiss preparing herself for heartbreak. "She wasn't proud of you?"
"No." Swiss's cheek twitched. "After boot camp, I was stationed at Fort Lewis in Washington and came home to Haugan every weekend to spend with Anita and Heather, plus I had the last week of every month free to be with them. Compared to every male civilian in Haugan, I was home more with my family, even being stationed over in Washington. I thought it was enough considering we finally had some money to live on and no worries when Heather needed to see the doctor, because for the first time in our life together, we had insurance. After a year in the Army, we'd been married three years by that time. I could tell things weren't good between us. She'd find excuses to stay away from the duplex when I was home, leaving me with Heather. I thought if I gave her space and time, prove to her that I was going to be a good husband and father, she'd come around."
He fell silent. Gia kissed his chest. Having never been married, she couldn't imagine the disappointment of loving someone who distanced themselves.
Swiss cleared his throat. "On Heather's fourth birthday, Anita invited a bunch of people here, and I overheard one of her friends talking about how she's playing me over, and she couldn't believe that I had no clue that my wife was sleeping with my brother."
Gia raised her head and sat up beside him. Caught up in his story, Swiss wasn't aware that he'd dropped his hand from her head.
"I waited until the party was over and everyone went home, and Heather was asleep before confronting Anita about having an affair with Brad." He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "She owned right up to cheating on me, and I was angry."
"Of course, you were. Anyone would be," she said softly, but Swiss never acknowledged her.
"I had to get out of the duplex. The anger I felt over knowing my wife was fucking around and with my brother of all people...I'd never felt anything like it. I went looking for Brad and found him at his house. We got into a scuffle." Swiss rubbed his hands over his face. "Somehow—and I play that day through my head all the time, and I can't remember who picked up the pistol first."
She gasped and covered her mouth.
He glanced at her. "I had a concealed weapons permit and always carried to protect my family. All I can guess is the weapon came off me in the fight with my brother, and I got shot."
"Your brother shot you?" Gia wrapped her arm across his stomach. She'd known his scar came from a gunshot wound, and she'd assumed it happened in the Army.
"I was unconscious at the hospital for two days while they dug the bullet out and kept me medicated. The lead lodged in my sinuses and shattered my cheekbone." Swiss lowered his head. "When I did wake up, Anita was in the hospital room with Heather, telling me she wanted a divorce. I told her I wouldn't give her one, and she said she was moving in with Brad, taking Heather, and had already told her lawyer and the police that I had pulled the gun on my brother, and while my brother was trying to remove the weapon, I was shot.
She stated that I was a danger to our child. She said she was signing a restraining order against me as soon as she left the hospital. I begged her to wait until I got out of the hospital before she signed anything. I'm not sure why or even what I thought I could do. In my frame of mind, I wasn't even sure what the fuck I wanted from her."
Gia leaned her head against his arm. Everything she knew about Swiss and going from her instincts, she'd never believe that he would be a danger to his child or any woman he loved.
"Next thing I know, I was slapped with a civilian restraining order while still in the hospital, and that was enough for the judge to give sole custody to Anita. With my background in the Army and having weapons at my disposal, I was high risk." He paused and blew out his breath. "I sat in court when my wife divorced me and watched my life get stripped away by legal statements, and nobody gave a damn about me losing my daughter. The only thing I had left was my career in the Army. I was already on shaky ground because of the charges, but the Army was the only thing that held me together. Anita got her divorce. I went back and finished another year in the Army before I could leave. I never saw my daughter again."
Gia's thoughts overwhelmed her. "How long did she leave the restraining order on you?"
"I checked every year until Heather was ten years old, hoping she'd forget to go in and sign another one, and she never forgot. After that, I gave up. Heather was growing up and wouldn't even know me. Besides the affair, what did I have on them? Anita was a good mom. Being a bad wife wasn't a crime. She loved Heather. My brother...he loved Anita and obviously made her happy if she stayed with him. When Heather was in her teens, I found out my brother had passed away when the Sergeant my brother and I both had in the Army sent me a condolence card with a hundred-dollar contribution to cancer research."
"What about your parents? Couldn't they help you get even supervised visitations with your daughter?"
He shook his head. "Once I got shot and lost my family, my parents wanted nothing to do with me. Brad was the first born son, their golden boy. They passed away a few years after the divorce. Dad of old age. Mom of congested heart failure. I stayed away from the funerals because I knew Brad would be there, and I was unable to be close or talk to Anita because of the restraining order."