“Yes,” I say hoarsely. “Thank you.” My hand lifts to the rosary on my neck and I look towards the ceiling.
Thank you.
“We were also able to begin the reconstruction process by inserting the flap tissue,” Dr. Kennedy continues, drawing my attention back to her. I watch as glances over my shoulder and her eyes widen.
“Shit,” Riggs mutters beside me. Ignoring the warning signs, I focus on the oncologist.
“When can we see her?” I question.
No one answers me.
Both Lauren and Anthony narrow their eyes and simultaneously the three of us turn around.
ATF agents.
Feds.
Homicide detectives.
Blue and whites.
Every-fucking-where.
“Jack Parrish, you are under arrest…”
For conspiracy to commit murder.
“Eric Montgomery, you are under arrest…”
Possession of illegal firearms.
“Lee Jameson, you are under arrest…”
Intent to sell.
“Lincoln Brandt, you are under arrest.”
You have the right to remain silent.
“Caleb West, you are under arrest.”
Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
“Chase Kincaid, you are under arrest.”
You have the right to an attorney.
“Jagger Richardson, you are under arrest.”
If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.
“Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
Silence.
What’s not to understand—the Satan’s Knights are done.
Chapter Thirty-six
Opening my eyes, it takes a moment for the halogen lights to come into focus and for me to realize where I am. Instinctively, my eyes divert to my chest and strange enough, I release a sigh of relief. I know under the oversized gown is probably a nightmare but right now, at this moment, I don’t look much different than I did when I walked into the hospital and for some reason that eases me.
“You’re awake,” Al murmurs groggily beside me causing me to peel my eyes away from my bandaged chest. Staring at me, he leans forward and takes my hand. Lacing our fingers together he bends his head and brushes his lips over my knuckles.
“It’s done,” I say hoarsely.
“Yeah, Lady, it’s done,” he affirms. “The doctor said he got it all. It’s all gone.”
The cancer.
My breasts.
All gone.
“The plastic surgeon also started the reconstruction process,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Are you in any pain? Do you want me to get—”
“I don’t feel anything,” I say cutting him off. It's true. Physically and emotionally, I’m numb and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Al’s eyes narrow with concern and I make excuses for my lack of emotions. “I guess they really gave me the good stuff because I even dreamt you asked me to marry you.”
The second the words leave my lips, Al’s whole face changes and I suddenly become more alert through the fog of anesthesia.
“That was no dream,” he clarifies.
Licking my dry lips, I close my eyes and replay the scene in my head. It wasn’t the most conventional proposal and one might be inclined to think it was a joke—I mean, I sort of did.
“You really want to get married?”
“I’ll buy you a ring as soon as we get the fuck out of here,” he replies. “You need me to get down on one knee, I’ll do it. You need me to give you a list of reasons why it should happen, I’ll do that too.”
“All I need is for you to be sure because if we do it, if we take this leap it’s got to be forever, Al. It’s got to be you and me forever. I don’t want to be a regret. I think you and I can both agree we’ve had enough of those.”
“We get one life, Lady. One fucking life and I want to spend the rest of mine with you as my wife. There are no regrets to be found there.”
Every heartbreak.
Every scar.
All the pages turned and bridges that were burned.
They all lead us both here.
Al lifts our joined hands and glances down at them.
“I want this,” he declares, squeezing my hand. “I want to hold your hand when we’re eighty and say, Lady, we made it.”
“Sold,” I cry as he pushes out of the chair and stands beside the bed. Bending his head, he touches his mouth to mine. A knock sounds on the door, causing us to separate and I look behind Al, at my daughter standing in the doorway.
Her pretty face is streaked with tears.
“Lauren—”
“Looks like someone is going to beat me to the altar,” she says, diverting her eyes between me and Al.
“That okay with you, pretty?” Al questions. Releasing my hand, he turns to her and closes the distance between them. Lauren throws her arms around his neck and stares over his shoulder at me.
“It’s more than okay with me,” she says.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he whispers something in her ear before they pull away and she nods.
“Why don’t you spend some time with your mother while I go break the news to Anthony, he’s going to have to share you all with me.”
“Only for a little while,” I intervene. “You’ve hung around this hospital long enough. I want you to go home to my babies and give them lots of kisses from grandma.”
Seeming to ignore me, the two of them exchange a glance, making me wonder what exactly went on while I was in surgery. At that thought, I’m reminded of the situation with Riggs and how upset Lauren was before the surgery.
“Is everything okay with Riggs?”
“Yeah, he’s just fine,” Al replies quickly. “He was here earlier.”
“I sent him home to stay with the boys,” Lauren adds.
I might have been a little loopy when I first woke up, but I know my daughter and I know when she’s lying. I also know when Al is trying to fix the problems of the world.
“What’s going on?” I question.
“Nothing,” Lauren admonishes.
“Lauren Marie Bianci—”
“Shit.”
“Lady,” Al sighs. “Can you just let it go? For crying out loud you just woke up from major surgery.”
“You see those things on my legs,” I point to the compression tights covering my legs. “They’re to keep the blood circulation so I don’t have a blood clot—”
“Here she goes,” Lauren mutters.
“Lady,”
“The two of you are—”
“Riggs was arrested,” Lauren blurts, throwing her hands in the air.
“And the two of you are here?”
“Where else would we be, Lady?”
My gaze slices toward him and I can see the worry in his eyes. There are two sides to the man I agreed to marry. The family man and the motorcycle man and right now he’s torn between the two. Before me, I have no doubt Al would’ve run to the police station the second they slapped cuffs on a brother. He would’ve raised hell, retained a tough as nails attorney and Riggs would’ve been released before they had a chance to fingerprint him. Instead, he spent all day in the hospital, sitting here holding my hand and waiting for me to wake up.
“Go get him out,” I tell him.
“It’s not that simple,” he mutters.
“What are the charges?”
“Mom, can we not do this right now? You need to rest.”
“What are the charges, Al?”
Biting the inside of his cheek, he rakes a hand through his ragged hair and meets my gaze.
“They arrested the whole club on a firearms charge and conspiracy to commit murder,” he reveals hoarsely. “Look,” he begins. “I called the clubs attorney and Nico went down to the station to see what he can find out. As—”
“You need to go,” I tell him.
A wave o
f nausea washes over me and I close my eyes briefly. The two of them rush to my side and I force my eyes open, holding up a hand.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “Just a little nauseous—probably a side effect from the anesthesia.”
“Should I get the doctor?” Lauren questions.
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” Al insists. “Get the doctor.”
Of course the traitor listens to him and hurries out of my room to grab a doctor, leaving Al and I both staring at one another.
“Lady,” he starts.
“I love you,” I interrupt. “And I am so grateful for you but, Al your place isn’t only here with me.”
“Sure it is.”
“Your whole club was arrested,” I say softly. “And instead of running to their aid, you’ve been sitting here holding my hand. You did your part, honey. You don’t need to choose between me and the club. I know you love me.”
“Maybe I didn’t do it for you, Maria,” he growls. “You ever think that I needed to be here for myself? That I needed to see you through this and look into your eyes the second you woke up? Yeah, I wanted to be here for you. I will always be here for you, but I needed to be here for me too. I needed to know my other half was whole.”
“Now you know.”
“Now I know,” he confirms.
“Now go make the other half whole,” I say softly. Staring at him, I can see he’s still conflicted and so I give him the push I know he needs. The words we’ve come to live by.
“You and me.”
You’re not alone.
I’ve got you.
Chapter Thirty-seven
You know things are bad when you arrive at the precinct only to learn your entire club has been sent to the Brooklyn Detention Center, where all the convicts go before they’re shipped off to Rikers Island. Parking the Charger on Atlantic Avenue, I drag my ass into BDC and spot Anthony and Nico huddled together, both of them looking equally dumbfucked. Scanning the room, I also notice Reina. Standing beside the club’s attorney, she appears to be in deep conversation with a man I’ve never seen before.
Keeping my eyes on the trio, I make my way towards Nico and Anthony. I don’t even bother greeting them before I jut a finger towards the suit standing in front of Reina.
“Who’s the stiff?”
“The best criminal defense attorney in New York, Jeremy Schwartz,” Anthony reveals.
“And how did we happen to strike the lawyer lotto with him?”
“Well, when we decided that you would stay with mom and I’d follow the guys, I figured they’d need a lawyer. I didn’t know who you guys had on retainer, so I called Vic’s old attorney,” he supplies, crossing his arms. “He kept Vic out of jail for twenty years.”
Yeah, until his luck ran out, and he advised the notorious gangster to turn himself in.
“How’s my mother?”
“She’s okay,” I say turning my attention back to him. “Lauren is staying with her.”
“Does she know what’s going on?”
“We didn’t want to tell her, but you know your mother,” I reply, raking my fingers through my hair. “Alright, so fill me in. Do they got anything to make these charges stick or is this another bogus attempt to fuck with us?” Even as the words leave my mouth, I realize how ridiculous they sound. If the cops wanted to fuck with us, they’d send some blue and whites. They were picked up by the ATF and the FBI—there ain’t nothing bogus about this shit.
“Apparently, they met with the Sinaloa cartel at some paper factory downtown. Something went down with Bas’ mother and his old lady and somehow word got out that there was a shootout going down at Pipe’s house,” Nico says.
“Pipe’s house?” I ask, trying to make sense of everything.
“Bas and his woman were staying at Pipe’s old house. From what we know, the cartel had guys stationed in front of the house. Bas’ mother and her club showed up and started shooting at them. One of those guys must’ve called the crew meeting with the club and they started firing away at our guys.”
“I’m not understanding where the charges come from,” I growl, slicing my eyes to Anthony. “They brought them in on a murder charge. Are you sure this don’t have something to do with the paramedic?”
“I took care of that,” Anthony insists, glancing around the room. “No one is finding that body. Not now and not twenty years from now.”
Holding his gaze, I bite the inside of my cheek and recall the detective who showed up at the hospital after Nico was shot.
“The detective didn’t buy Jack’s story about the first paramedic,” I point out.
“There is no proof,” Nico inserts. “There are no cameras at the garage and Jack left with the gun he used to kill him. This has nothing to do with the paramedics.”
“If you would let me finish, I can explain the fucking charges,” Anthony hisses. “Schwartz said the cops got an anonymous tip to go to the paper factory. When they found out the Sinaloa cartel was involved, the Feds took over because they’ve been building a case against them. They went to the factory and found three bodies. Two were cold and one was still breathing. Apparently, they got to the guy before he lost consciousness and he named the Knights as the culprit.”
“Wait a minute, you’re telling me they all got arrested because some douchebag named them in a shootout. That’s fucking hearsay. It’ll never stick.”
“They found a gun,” Nico reveals.
“I should hope they found a fucking shit ton of guns if they charged them with possession and intent to sell,” I grunt. “Still, those guns aren’t marked.”
We’ve been in the business of selling guns for quite some time and have mastered the exchange. Those fucking guns are concealed in shipping crates. They’re wiped clean of serial numbers and distributed with no trace.
“The gun they got isn’t an AK49, Wolf,” Anthony whispers harshly. “It wasn’t one they were planning to sell.”
“So, what are you saying they have one of our guns?”
They still can’t prove shit. Our guns aren’t registered.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Right now, it might all seem like circumstantial evidence but once forensics pulls the print on the gun, they’re going to know who fired it and killed those two guys.”
It begins to click, and I roughly run my hands over my face. Peering across the room, I glance at Reina and the two attorneys before turning back to Anthony.
“Where the fuck is Blackie?”
“I have no idea,” Anthony admits, glancing around the room. “I tried calling him but his phone goes straight to voicemail.”
“And Bas do we know what happened there?”
“Him and the girl are okay,” Nico shares. “His mother got arrested though. Needles is there with them, squaring shit away. Supposedly that’s another fucking crime scene.”
“Great,” I mutter.
“It’s also a holiday weekend,” Anthony mutters. “That’s why they’re being carted to Rikers. They won’t get in front of a judge until Monday.”
“That’s three days from now. What the fuck happened to night court?”
“The television show?” Nico questions.
Fuck my fucking life.
“Anything else I should know?” I ask, afraid of the fucking answer.
Silently, Anthony and Nico exchange a look and I stare at them expectantly, waiting for them to drop another fucking bomb. But before they have the chance to, I spot Reina, out of the corner of my eye, making her way towards me. Tearing my gaze away from my son and Anthony, I turn and meet Reina’s eyes.
With every step she takes, guilt consumes me, and it becomes hard to look at her. I can still hear her strangled voice begging me to help her husband, pleading for me to intervene before something like this happened.
I failed her.
I failed Jack.
I should’ve been more aggressive. I should’ve insisted he listen to me. Instead, I let it go. I gave him another shot
and tried to bide my time because I believed Maria needed me more. As guilty as I am, I’d make the same choice and I don’t know if that makes me an honorable man or a man who threaded on his brother.
As she reaches me, I swallow the lump in my throat and force my apology.
“Reina, I’m sorry,” I say hoarsely.
Squaring her shoulders, she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and shakes her head.
“That doesn’t matter anymore, Wolf,” she says in a controlled voice. “This is where we’re at now and there’s no going back. We can only move forward and do our best to help Jack.”
Staring at her for a beat, I finally nod and turn my attention to the club attorney.
“I hear they recovered a gun. Do we know who it belongs to?”
Before he can answer, Reina, cocks her head to the side and sets me straight.
“It’s Blackie’s,” she reveals. “During the shootout, Blackie took a bullet for Jack. They got away and took him to the cabin upstate and the doctor met them up there. When I got word Jack was arrested, I called Blackie first, and he told me he dropped the gun. I tried to call someone to retrieve the gun before the cops found it but that was before I knew everyone was arrested with him.”
Everyone but me and she didn’t even bother to call me.
More guilt.
She continues to reveal what she knows, and I realize just how bad things had gotten for Jack. Never in his right mind, would he have revealed so much to his wife and he sure as fuck would never allow her to get as deeply involved as she has been. For fuck’s sake, she was trying to get rid of evidence.
The lawyer interjects, drawing my attention to him.
“Once they pull a print on that gun, they will be able to place the Knights at the scene and they’ll try Blackie for the murder of those two Mexicans,” he asserts.
“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing we fucking pay you so well,” I growl. “Make it go away.”
“It’s not that simple, Wolf,” he mutters. “You’re forgetting they got the possession charge with the intent to sell. They also got an APB out for Blackie. Bullet or no bullet, the guy is a fugitive now. I’m good but I’m not God.”
“I don’t give a fuck if you got to confess to the fucking thing yourself. You get my guys out of this fucking hellhole and you make sure those charges don’t stick. Blackie’s got a kid on the way.”
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