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From the Ruins

Page 18

by Janine Infante Bosco


  “You going to shoot me, Riggs?” I ask almost amused.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he says with a shrug. “Answer the question,” he adds, raising his voice.

  Riggs isn’t a guy who hollers at a brother. Himself? Yes. All the time. I’ve caught the son of a bitch standing in front of a mirror screaming at himself about owning his decisions and wrapping his dick. Granted, it was a long time ago, back when he thought his cock was God’s gift to the women of the tristate area and he accidentally knocked up his precious Kitten. Between Bianci, the mother-in-law from hell, impending fatherhood and the war with the Chinese, the guy lost his fucking marbles.

  The point is, he doesn’t tend to lose his shit with his brothers and he’s picked the wrong guy to start with. Ignoring his tirade, I turn my back to him. I came here for a reason and engaging in Riggs’ temporary bout of insanity isn’t it. I need to get the pipe bombs out of this place and back to the woods where the only thing that exists is Layla.

  Layla and that fucking mouth of hers.

  Walking away from her after I got a taste was a test of self-control, something I wasn’t so sure I had anymore. If I didn’t have to handle this shit I would have thrown her onto the kitchen table and fucked her senseless. I would have lied and used the excuse I needed to release the tension Brantley put on me. But the truth is she’s getting to me. She’s inside my head; morning, noon and night. When I go to bed, I wonder if she’s awake. I dream of what she feels like, how she tastes and what kind of noises that wicked mouth makes when she comes.

  “Keep testing me, Pipe. I swear if you take another fucking step I will shoot you,” Riggs growls, interrupting my thoughts of the woman I left behind.

  “What the fuck is going on here? You lose your fucking mind or something?” I sneer, twisting around to face him.

  “What’s going on here is I’m protecting my club.”

  “I’m not the enemy, you idiot,” I hiss.

  “Says who? You? The man who fucking left us,” he says. Ignoring the gun, I stare at the unhinged man in front of me and lift an eyebrow.

  “This is really happening right now? You’re throwing a fucking tantrum. Don’t worry, baby, Uncle Pipe’s got nothing but love for you,” I bite back sarcastically.

  “Fuck you, man,” he grunts. “Make fun all you want but you left us, the men you called your brothers. You selfish bastard, you left us all here to fucking rot.”

  “I buried my fucking wife,” I roar as I lunge for him, gripping his leather jacket with my fists. “Now, get that fucking gun out of my face or use it, either way, I’m about done with this conversation,” I add, shoving him back and releasing my hold on him.

  He holds my gaze for a moment before slowly lowering his gun. Reaching behind him, he tucks it into the waistband of his jeans before holding up his palms in mock surrender.

  “I’m sorry you lost your wife, Pipe, but the club didn’t kill her. Just like the club didn’t kill Bones,” he says calmly.

  “It’s not the same,” I snap, shaking my head.

  “It’s not that different,” he argues. “I could’ve blamed you for giving those motherfuckers that killed him access into the compound. You remember that, don’t you? You had just made the deal with the bus company when fucking Wu came into the compound and shot my girl.”

  I do remember. The club needed money and I negotiated a deal with Atlantic Express to fix their fleet of buses. I didn’t have room to work on them at the garage and sent them to the compound instead. We were waiting for them to arrive when the Chinese came through and shot Riggs’ girl. They would have killed her if Bones didn’t jump in front of her. He saved Lauren’s life and their unborn child too, but Bones lost his life. Riggs and Bones went way back but they grew up to be a lot like Wolf and I. Bones had found the club early on, and like Wolf brought me into the fold, Bones did the same for Riggs.

  “I sat in that hospital for days not sure if Lauren and the baby were going to make it while my best friend lay in a drawer at the morgue,” he grinds out.

  “I was there,” I grunt. “I know.”

  “That’s right. You were all there. You took turns bringing me clothes and whatever else I needed so I didn’t have to leave their sides. You planned Bones’ funeral for me and allowed me the time I needed with my family. I was able to be a good man, a good father because the men I chose to be my family had my back when I needed them most.”

  “Good for you,” I grind out, clenching my jaw.

  “You would’ve had that too. We would’ve rallied around you, Pipe, but you had to go and be a pussy about things.”

  I’m going to kill this fucking kid.

  Bury him deep too so they can’t find his body.

  “I can’t imagine what you felt,” he continues. “I don’t even want to think of what might’ve been if Lauren hadn’t survived, but I know for certain it wouldn’t have been the club’s fault. They attacked us, Pipe. They hit us where it hurts and the worst part about it is we never saw it coming. Had we known, had we had a fucking second, don’t you think one of us would’ve jumped in front of Oksana? The way Bones laid down for Lauren, one of us would’ve done the same for your woman but there was no time.”

  “You think that’s what I want to hear?” I retort, shaking my head.

  “I don’t know what you want to hear. You never fucking told anyone. You took off and damned us all to hell.”

  The truth is I don’t know what I want. Would it be okay if Oksana survived and one of my brothers didn’t? Would that make me feel better? No, it wouldn’t. It’d be a different kind of pain but a loss all the same.

  “Did you know Wolf asks for you every damn day? Every fucking day that man asks if one of us has heard from you.”

  That stings.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s alive,” he says, crossing his arms. Seeing as I’m out of patience, he rolls his eyes and continues. “They’re trying to make the beast drop some pounds so his heart holds up. They put him on a low salt diet so you can imagine how fucking grumpy he is.”

  Wolf on a diet? He’d rather be dead.

  “In case you were wondering, Jack’s son was born healthy too.”

  My eyes instantly lift. Honestly, I forgot about the kid. I would’ve liked to have seen that. To see Jack become a father again. Not that it would’ve healed him or filled the hole in his heart his first son’s death left behind, but he deserved some good after that. He deserves a chance to do all the things he never got to do with Jack Jr.

  “They named him Daniel after his brother…something you would’ve known if you had of listened to Blackie when he paid you a visit.”

  He’s right.

  I didn’t want to hear this shit from Blackie’s mouth and I don’t want to hear it from his.

  “I didn’t come here for this,” I say frustrated. I didn’t drive all this way to have Riggs hand me my fucking ass. Everyone’s got an opinion, doesn’t make them entitled.

  “So, what the fuck did you come here for? To make sure we were taking care of the joint?”

  My eyes do another sweep around the garage as his phone starts to ring.

  “Hold that thought,” he grunts, reaching into his pocket for the phone. Lifting the phone to his ear, he reaches for his gun with the other hand.

  This fucking guy.

  “Hey, Kitten,” he says as he aims his fucking gun at my head. “What? No. I went to get milk.”

  From where I’m standing I can hear his woman shout through the phone.

  “I know that’s what your father told your mother when he left, but we were out of milk and I wanted a bowl of Fruit Loops,” he says, pausing to point a finger at me. “Don’t even go there,” he warns before returning to the conversation he’s having with Lauren. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”

  Taking advantage that Riggs is distracted, I cross the room. I grab a crowbar and pry open one of the oil drums in the corner. Tossing the lid, I reach inside and grab the duffe
l bag. I draw the zipper down and open the bag, checking to make sure all my shit is there before slinging it over my shoulder.

  “Jesus, fuck, Kitten. Is this a hormone thing? Like should I pick up pickles? Can you hold on?” he asks, pulling the phone away from his ear as he peers back at me. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  “We’re done here.”

  “The fuck we are. I’m just getting started,” he growls, lifting the phone again. “Who am I talking to? The gas station attendant. He wanted to know if I wanted diesel fuel.”

  “Good luck with that,” I mutter, tipping my chin toward the phone.

  “Kitten, hold on,” he grinds out, pressing the phone to his chest to muffle out the sounds. “Pipe, get your ass back here or I’ll shoot you.”

  Just when you think you’ve got it bad, Riggs comes along. Most of the time he makes your head spin and wish you never met him.

  Other times, times like now, he lays down the truth and makes you think.

  “Give it your best shot,” I call over my shoulder as I walk out of the garage. He follows me into the parking lot, continuing to lie to his woman about gas and milk as I straddle my bike.

  “I mean it! I’ll shoot you,” he shouts over my engine. “What? No, not you. Yes, the gas station guy. No, I’m not going to shoot him. Jesus, Kitten, I’ve got to go!”

  He also makes you laugh, both with him and at him.

  Sometimes it’s with him but most times it’s at his expense.

  Like now, I’m one hundred percent laughing at him as I glance out the side-view mirror and watch him juggle his phone and the gun. The gun goes off as he drops his phone and the bullet pierces the aluminum sign.

  That’s Riggs for you.

  At least he didn’t shoot himself.

  Or me.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  There is some prime real estate in Staten Island. Right off the last exit on the Korean War Veterans Parkway. If you ride the service road all the way to the end to where the woods are you’ll find some of the best kept secrets. The dirty secrets a piece of shit like Brantley would love to uncover but never will.

  After I left the garage, I drove over the Verrazano Bridge and made my way there. Finding my shovel where I’ve kept it for the last twenty years, under the overpass, I buried the bag of explosives deep in the earth next to the decaying bodies of all the motherfuckers who thought they were a match for the Satan’s Knights.

  In broad daylight and covered head to toe in dirt, I wipe my prints off the shovel and put it back in its rightful place. I drag my ass to my bike and as I rev the engine my phone rings. Pulling it out of my pocket, I glance at the screen and notice it’s Tommy’s number.

  “Hey, kid,” I answer as I straddle my bike and grab a cigarette.

  “I’m in front of your house,” he says.

  Glancing at my watch, I realize the kid is sitting in front of my house waiting to work on his mother’s car. He’s also a half hour earlier than he was the day before and for some reason that makes me damn fucking proud of him.

  “I’m not home,” I tell him, taking a drag of my cigarette. “Where’s your mother?”

  “She’s getting Lexi and Jenna ready for school. When are you coming home?”

  Hearing him ask such a simple question does something to me. It makes me miss something that’s not mine.

  “I’ve got some shit I gotta take care of and then I’ll be back,” I respond. “We’ll finish the car over the weekend. You take a break today but don’t get into any fucking trouble, aye?”

  “Dad’s picking us up today and won’t bring us back until Sunday night,” he reveals. That fucking does something to me too, and again I want what isn’t mine to have.

  “I’ll see you when you get back and we’ll finish the car.”

  “Alright,” he hesitates. Getting the impression he wants to say something else, I toss my cigarette and question him.

  “You good, kid?”

  “Yeah,” he says quickly. “I’m cool.”

  “Not really but you’re getting there,” I tease. “The girls good?”

  “Yeah, they’re the same pains in the ass they always are,” he mutters and I laugh.

  “And your mother? She behaving?”

  “Does she ever?”

  Another laugh rolls past my lips.

  “She’s good,” he corrects, laughing himself. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Sunday.”

  “Yeah, you will. Stay out of trouble.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “Goodbye, Lee.”

  “See ya, kid,” I say before disconnecting the call. Staring at the phone, I replay the conversation back in my head. For a minute, I try to figure out if I leave the city now will I make it back home to see the kids before they leave for the weekend with their father.

  Home.

  Kids.

  Two things a man like me doesn’t deserve or want. At least I never wanted them before. But what you want and what you can have are two different things. Then there are people like Layla’s husband who get it all and throw it away.

  Fucking fool.

  Feeling like I do right now, it’s better I’m not there when he comes and gets his kids. On top of not being prepared to see Layla interact with the man she spent most her life with, I don’t think I can look him in the eye and not knock his teeth down his throat. With that in mind, I peel away from the curb and merge onto the highway. I ride for the sake of riding, passing the house I shared with Oksana and the clubhouse that’s still in ruins. I don’t stop though. My wheels take me deeper into the streets of Brooklyn until I pull up in front of the hospital.

  Battling with my conscience, I find a spot. Before I can change my mind I enter the building. The lady at the front desk tells me what room Wolf is in and I ride the elevator up to the cardiac intensive care unit. Making my way down the corridor, I find his room and knock on the door.

  Resolving there is no use in trying to prepare for the lashing he’s undoubtedly going to deliver, I place my hand on the door as his deep baritone voice hollers for me to enter. Sitting upright in the hospital bed, connected to all sorts of machines, he peels his eyes away from the television and stares at me.

  “Well, it’s about fucking time,” he mutters, the shock fading from his features.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, you old fuck. I’m only here because I heard you were on a diet and I wanted to see for myself how fucking miserable you were.”

  He opens his mouth to reply but starts to cough violently.

  “Wolf?”

  Doubling over as he covers his mouth and chokes, he points to the rolling tray alongside his bed.

  “Water,” he croaks as he hacks up a lung.

  Quickly, I move to the side of his bed and grab the pitcher of water. Filling the plastic cup next to it, I turn and hand it to him.

  “Easy,” I order, watching as he reaches for the cup, his face nearly blue from all the coughing. He takes the cup, brings it to his lips and before he sips it he throws the water in my face.

  “What the fuck?” I shout, wiping the water from my eyes.

  “Fuck you,” he says, tossing the empty cup across the room. “You pussy bitch.”

  “Come again?” I grind out, clenching my jaw.

  “Didn’t stutter, motherfucker,” he replies, pulling the wires from his arm as he sits up. “I’m real sorry about Oksana. Truly, I am…but what you did, how you left, what the fuck were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking my wife was murdered,” I sneer, pushing the rolling cart away from him before he throws his fruit cup in my fucking face next.

  “A lot of people have died on our watch, Pipe. We’ve all lost folks that we loved and yet we’re all still here. Everyone except you.”

  “Fuck that. If Jack had of listened to me…if any of you had of just fucking listened when I said the club shouldn’t get involved with the mob then maybe my wife wouldn’t be in
a fucking tomb right now. Hell, you wouldn’t be sitting here with your fucking fruit cup either.”

  “You don’t know that,” he argues, ripping another wire from his body. This one sets off an alarm as he leans over the rails of his bed and starts smacking the monitor next to him. “Piece of shit thing. I pass gas and the fucking thing goes off.”

  “What the hell are you doing? You’re setting off all the machines,” I shout as he pulls the oxygen from his nose.

  “Mr. Scotto,” a nurse calls from behind me. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop pulling out the wires? I’m going to strap you to the bed.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters, waving a hand toward me. “It’s all this schmucks fault.”

  “Well, if you don’t quit it I won’t bring you any more chocolate pudding,” the blonde nurse says with a wink. Leave it to this son of a bitch to wrap a girl half his age around his finger.

  “It won’t happen again,” Wolf promises.

  “Let’s get these leads back in place.”

  “Can you wait until I kick his ass?” Wolf questions.

  “Lookin’ weak, Wolf. Whose ass you kickin’?” I reply.

  Gritting his teeth, he turns to the blonde.

  “Cover your ears, darling,” he orders, snapping his attention back to me. Lowering the bed rail, he pushes the sheet off his body and throws his hairy legs over the edge of the bed. Dressed in a hospital gown and black dress socks he tries to pull himself up.

  Watch out Tyson, here comes Scotto.

  “Need a hand?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

  “I don’t care if my fat ass hangs out of this fucking nightgown, I’m going to beat the Irish out of you.”

  “Come at me, you guinea bastard.”

  “I’m going to call Jagger if you keep this shit up,” the nurse hollers.

  “Who?” I ask, slicing my eyes back to her.

  “Cobra, she’s his old lady, you idiot,” Wolf hisses as he swings and misses.

  “Nice try,” I tell him, studying the petite blonde shaking her head at the two of us. “Pipe,” I offer.

 

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