by Liz K. Lorde
Jasmine shook her head and acknowledged the man several times over with a shaky voice. She opened the backdoor of the car.
The last thing she saw was the butt of the gun being thrust at her face.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sexton
He looks like he’s on edge, Sexton thought. Allen was pacing around in his apartment; still wet from his shower, his blond chest hair clung to his skin – the only thing covering the man was a large white towel.
“I don’t like this shit,” he said to himself, his eyes glancing over to Sexton. They were cold and calculating. Judging. “You sure Martine wasn’t following you here?”
“Not me,” Sexton boasted, “maybe the prospects, but I’ve never had him tail me for long.”
“Don’t act so fucking cocky,” the words came out in barbs. “I’ve got him this far up my ass,” Allen gestured, bringing his one hand down to the elbow of his other arm, “meanwhile those father-fucking bastards are trying to weasel their way into my town? I’ll kill ‘em all before that happens.”
Sexton averted his eyes and stepped over to the reclining chair beside his person, plunking down on it. “Let’s not let it come to that,” he said. The digital clock on the nightstand beside Sexton glowed as 10:28 PM.
The lumbering president sat down on the couch across from Sexton’s chair, sinking deep into it. He let his head fall back, staring up into the ceiling and sighed, running his hands up his cheeks and through his wet hair. “I don’t think that I can trust Gabriel.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He lied to me. About Luke.”
“Did he see him?” Sexton was thankful that Rudess Brandchard had set him and Benny up with an alibi – though he knew it wouldn’t clear all of the President’s suspicions, it would be enough for him to focus just on Luke.
Allen shook his head, “Yeah…”
“Some of the girls at the Lapis been seeing some tatted up irregulars,” Sexton mentioned, crossing one leg over another, “no identifying ink, but from what I’ve seen and what we know, it’s probably DB’s. You really think they’re that much of a threat? They’re not even that huge in Seattle.”
Allen scoffed and stretched out a bit on the couch, “I know a threat when I see it, you let a pack of dogs run around – someone’s gonna get bit.” There was a noise coming from the master bedroom, a woman – some little thing that the President had seen fit to keep around longer than the rest. She called out for him to come to bed. “I’m talkin’ business,” the man yelled in response, looking over to Sexton and shaking his head.
“Still got her around hmn?” Every month the club would vote on the direction of things, both legit and business that was considered ‘in the black’ or more legally known as ‘shit that gets you into prison and keeps you there’. Allen kept pushing and pushing for running the drugs, and though a small few didn’t mind – fear of going against the king was what kept the members from taking a stand.
“Tammie’s a good girl,” Allen’s smile widened, revealing his teeth that seemed all incisors. “Better than most of the trash I pick through.”
Sexton ruminated on the idea of Allen leaving the club. He was taking his fair share, and had his hand dipped in everything, were as most seated members only elected to do this and that for a job – exempting them from the other activities. Allen would get a cut from it all. Was he just pushing for the Knights to do this shit so that he could find a nice island to sit for his gray years?
Wouldn’t be a terrible idea if it wasn’t so deplorable. “Yeah, she’s better than most. You sure we’re going to be able to ride on Thursday with all of this shit going down? Better to call off the run than risk the consequences.” Take it. Show me you’ve still got some sense of caution left in you.
Allen grunted as he got up from the couch, taking several tries to perform the feat, cursing aloud at his old bones. “Nothin’ like a little heat to keep us sharp,” he bragged, looking down at Sexton, “we need the money now more than ever, if push comes to shove with the DB’s.”
Damn. “Alright,” Sexton sighed, picking himself up off of the chair and saying goodbye to the man – catching a glimpse of the President going off into his bedroom where his little mistress awaited him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Augustus
The sun peeked just over the horizon, casting it’s soft, orange glow across the park of Carrie Way. Augustus jogged down the light concrete trail; a shroud of trees stood beside him, their mighty trunks wrapped in brilliant shades of green. The grass was still draped in the dew of the morning, each blade glinting beneath the light of the sun. Only a few, rogue clouds rolled through the sky.
Each step that the man took drained him some, his feet springing along with his shoes hitting the concrete. Sweat rolled down from his head, giving his wine red hair a partially drenched look. His face was scrunched up and the kiss of exhaustion had long since touched him; he’d started even before the sky was cracked by light of the morn.
Augustus passed by some fellow jogger, a woman wearing a pink racerback. He turned his head to look at her backside as she continued on her way, and then brought himself back.
A man stood there in Augustus’ vision, leaned against a great tree that was apart from the rest – wearing a dangerous look on his face. Augustus’ heart twitched with a nervous heat. He was not scared, or at least, he tried to convince himself that he was not.
Ah, shit. She must have told him.
But the last time he saw the man, he’d been put through the ringer. Augustus slowed down as he moved closer to the man, and eventually stopped to catch his breath.
“You look tired,” he said, his mixed color eyes looking at Augustus with scorn.
Augustus waited a moment, still gasping for air and kneeling for a few seconds; the hot, unpleasant sweat continued to slide down his neck. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” his words were icy barbs.
Augustus rolled his eyes, “Ye-heah, I get that,” he said aggravated. “But what are you doing here? You been following me there, uh, Leslie, is it?” Augustus stood up straight and wiped his nose with his thumb, swiping away a bit of sweat.
The man was not wearing his gang jacket, and he did not say a word in reply. Instead, he stepped closer and closer, until he finally got within an arm’s breadth of Augustus. He took notice of the man’s muscles, and the aggressive posture in which he took. Finally, he said, “I know what you did.” This is not going to go over well.
“Did what?”
The man’s jaw clenched, “Don’t play stupid with me,” he hissed.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Augustus lied.
“The fuck you didn’t,” Luke narrowed his eyes.
He took a step back, a wave of endorphins and heat crashing against him – everything felt a little lighter, and his whole body seemed almost out of place with the world. He knew it was a mistake, to admit to it, but the man seemed to have him figured out. “You’re right,” Augustus started, tightening his hand into a fist, “I did it on purpose. She tasted good,” he watched as the man’s face screwed up into hard lines of fury; only the slightest hint of confusion gracing his features. “She tasted good, and I liked it. You should have seen the way she was looking at me,” Augustus whistled low, shaking his head, “hell of a wild—“
The man’s fist came barreling towards Augustus, much faster than he anticipated. It connected square on his jaw, the sound of bone against bone popping through the air. Pain blossomed with a fury immediately and his head turned with the punch.
Within half a heartbeat, Augustus fought back. Something low came out of his throat in a growl as he bull rushed the man, pinning the biker against the wet grass. There was a deep thud when he did as such, and Augustus’ body was singing with adrenaline – the pain in his jaw washing away as though it never happened. When he pulled back his arm into the air, the biker thrust out an arm to hold back Augustus’ attacking
shoulder.
The two struggled against one another in the morning light, “You’re a real piece of shit,” the man spat, throwing Augustus sideway with one great motion.
He hit the ground hard. Fuck. Not as young as I used to be. Augustus whirled around, scrambling to position himself favorably – but before he could reasonably defend or attack, the biker’s fists were already on him, pummeling into his side.
The air went out of him in an instant, and his whole body quickly felt like it would no longer obey him.
Again, came the man’s fist, striking Augustus’ face. For every heartbeat that passed, another blow rained down. Could a man even hit so hard? There was so much anger behind it, that was the scariest part.
Something poured out from Augustus’ nose.
He did as best he could to protect himself, forming into as much of a ball on the ground as his attacker would allow. Pride, stubbornness, even the disgusting partial desire to be hit, they were all things that kept him from begging the man to stop.
I will not beg.
The biker spoke for each time his fist went into Augustus’ face, “Stay the fuck away from her.” Augustus shuddered, pain licking away at his bones as he looked up – he could see red on the man’s knuckles.
He could hear the sounds of someone’s shoes tapping against the concrete trail, shouting at the two of them.
It was the last thing that he heard before everything vanished into darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gabriel
They felt stronger than they did before, and it didn’t exhaust nor hurt as much now. Gabriel took slow, short strides all the way from one end of his practice railing to the other, with the help of his physical trainer Nedra. He was tired of the dim, white-florescent lights (though they were off today) against the eggshell colored walls; his only saving graces in the maddening hellhole was the company of the MC, Nedra and whatever occasional sunshine he could catch through the window.
After some encouraging words and taking a moment to focus, Gabriel turned and took another set steps. The sunlight through the window shot out glimmering fingers of light, piercing against the relative darkness of the room – little motes of dust climbed through the air aimlessly.
There was a knock on the door, and a surge of energy rippled through Gabriel’s chest. A sense of elevation. Of joy. He turned his head to face the door, and Nedra did the same.
“It’s Luke,” he said, opening the door. He was wearing his street clothes once again, probably for the better. There were some grass and dirt stains on his shirt, and Gabriel spied the flecks of red around his knuckles and between the webs of his fingers. That man always found a way to get his hands dirty, he had a knack for it.
“I’m sorry, but he’s in the middle of a session,” Nedra mentioned politely.
“No no, it’s okay,” Gabriel assured, “let’s take a break for a few minutes or something.”
“I can come back if you’re busy,” Luke gestured with his thumb, pointing it behind his shoulder.
Gabriel carefully made his way back to the side of his bed, “Nah, it’s good.”
Nedra took her leave, leaving only the two remaining.
“Good to see you on your feet brother,” Luke said, finding a wall to lean against.
“Feels good to be on ‘em,” Gabriel brushed back a rogue strand of his brown hair, “I’ve been doing some digging.”
“You should be doing anything but.”
“Yeah, well, you know me. Couldn’t sit still on the field, can’t sit still on the road – so on and so on. But uh, you get into some kind of scrap?”
Luke frowned, “Something a bit more than a scrap,” he admitted. “I just… lost it.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t really want to talk about it.”
A small, awkward silence befell the two for a moment until Gabriel said, “You know I’ve been feeling out the Knights crew, and so far nobody’s given me reason to be suspect.”
“Okay,” Luke said, waiting curiously for Gabriel to get to his point.
Gabriel sharply sucked in a breath of air and looked away from Luke, his eyes moving to their upper corners. This was dangerous territory to tread. “Have you ever considered the possibility, that Kayla might have had a role to play in Able’s death?”
Luke said nothing for a moment, his face screwing up. “What do you mean? I mean, w-why?” The lines of his face became deeper, “she’s not well – fucking psycho for what she did, but it makes no sense. She’d have nothing to gain?”
“I’m not saying that she, for sure, did anything,” Gabriel replied. “Just, given what she’s done… and looking back on things.” Gabriel knew that the very idea of someone that close to Luke having done such a thing, was killing him on the inside.
“I just don’t understand why she would have anything to do with that.”
“I don’t know either, but I do know that once I get through the rest of the MC – if you know where to find her, I’ll investigate her like everyone else.”
Moments of time fluttered by. Luke shook his head and then chuckled, “She wouldn’t do something like that,” he insisted.
“You really think that?” Gabriel countered. “She tried to kill the woman you love, what makes her not capable?”
“Because I don’t want her to be,” the man snapped. Gabriel could see the pain in his eyes. “It’s horrible – what she did. But orchestrating the murder of my brother? For no reason? It’d kill me, Gabriel. It messes with my head enough as it is, I still have trouble sleeping at night when I’m without…” half a heartbeat passed, and Luke sucked in a breath.
“If she had a hand in it, you’re going to have to come to terms,” Gabriel said.
“If,” Luke replied coldly. “I’m going to scope out some places today,” he seemed to be wanting off of that subject, Gabriel could not blame him. “I should be coming into some money, and I still have some from what we’ve done with the MC – there’s this place, Gordon’s Mechanic’s, that’d be perfect for a clean start.” Clean start? Gabriel wondered if anything could be clean anymore; when all that you and your closest souls know is rolling around in the dirt, was it just a matter of time before a fresh start would become a familiar one?
There was a knock on the door and the two men in turn looked towards it. The knob turned and in walked sheriff Freeman. He had a cocksure swagger to his step, and was dressed sharply in a chestnut brown attire denoting his station, with his sleeves rolled up and his moderate tone and muscle on display; the golden Seiko watch on the man’s right wrist caught Gabriel’s eye. “Sorry to come in here unannounced,” the man said, smooth as silk. He had a baleful grin on his façade, pointing to the fact that he was anything but.
Gabriel said nothing, only looking between the sheriff and Luke.
Luke’s head sunk down an inch and he mouthed ‘shit’ before saying in disbelief, “I don’t know how in the hell you knew I was here.”
The sheriff chuckled to himself, stepping closer and pulling out a set of silvery handcuffs from a Velcro pocket on the side of his pants, “I saw what you did,” his Croatian accent was subtle, but there all the same, “over at Carrie Way. Guess you’re not as much of a ghost as you thought you were. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it your way.”
There was no point in running, surely Luke recognized that. He hoped that he wouldn’t try anything stupid – it couldn’t have been murder, he must have really assaulted the dude.
“Whatever it is you think I did, I didn’t do it,” Luke assured, taking a step back from the sheriff.
Freeman laughed, “You beat a man damn near to death.”
“If I did, then it seems awfully unlawful of you that you didn’t stop me.”
“I wanted to see where you would go,” he admitted, “after doing such a thing. Give me your hands,” he insisted.
Luke did not budge.
The man moved closer. “Do it,” he stepped closer still, �
��or if you want I could add resisting arrest to your charge.”
“Screw yourself,” Luke spat at the man’s feet, “your charge won’t stick and you know it.”
Dammit, he’s too worked up. “Luke…” Gabriel berated.
The sheriff’s face scrunched up and he strode over to Luke, fighting with him for a brief moment and forcefully putting the cuffs on his wrists. Luke raged against the man’s hold pointlessly as Freeman read off his rights.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jasmine
Jasmine’s fingers worked at the ropes binding her hands so tightly together. Come on you bastard. Get loose. The rope refused to budge, but she spied a piece small strip of slightly rusted iron – understanding instantly that she needed to get ahold of that for later.
The car slowly rolled to a stop, and Jasmine’s heart jumped in her chest. She stilled her breathing, her whole body freezing up for a moment. You’ve really gone and fucked yourself, she chided. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Her bones seemed to a lose a little bit of weight when the car began to move again; a wave of relief crashing against her. She let out a deep breath through her nose, and closed her eyes for a spell, visualizing her fingers and hands working themselves out of the rope.
Luke wandered through her mind, and a knife twisted in her chest when she thought about leaving him behind.
It twisted further when she unexpectedly thought about her mother. Jasmine’s eyes stung then, and she realized just how foolish she had been – how much she would give in that moment to make up for her mistakes. The pain wracked at her chest as she struggled against the bindings in a frenzy; she wanted forgiveness and to forgive, she wanted to love and be loved – was it so much to ask?
The ropes started to unravel slowly, but surely. Her lithe fingers worked them over tirelessly and with a renewed vigor, aggravated whines and other little sounds escaping the small gaps in the duct tape that covered her mouth. Jasmine’s heart hammered along in her chest, pinpricks of adrenaline running up her body – giving her gooseflesh.