HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “I’m just asking you to be thoughtful, Dakota. These last few weeks have been beyond difficult. They’ve been terrifying. You’ve watched your father almost die; you were attacked in your own home. Everything changed very quickly and I worry that your relationship with Adam might be you looking for something solid to hold on to. It’s a normal reaction, Dakota. I just don’t want you making any life-changing decisions while all of this is going on. Take things slow with Adam. Make sure you know his history before you get further involved; will you do that for me?”

  Dakota nodded silently. But she didn’t agree. She knew her father was right. She hadn’t known Adam very long, but their connection was so strong. Could it all have just been fear and adrenaline that pushed them together? Was she clinging to Adam the way a drowning man would cling to a life vest? How was she to know what the right thing to do was? She had never faced anything like this before. Her life had never been like this before; maybe her father was right and she should wait until life settled back down, not that it showed any signs of doing so.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  “Mr. Mendel?” a stern voice demanded through the phone. Adam didn’t recall picking the phone up or answering it, yet here he was talking to someone. It was nine o’clock in the morning. The day before, Adam had captured an assassin and been in a car accident; the day before he was chasing leads around the city. Tired was an understatement. Adam had planned to take the day off, to sleep in and forget about Scarred Angels and the dangers faced by the Kanes. Last night Joey had reminded him that he wasn’t doing this alone, he had family behind him and Adam could trust Scarred Angels to protect Dakota for a day.

  Adam checked his phone and found that his early call was from Detective Evans. He sat up and wiped the drool from his mouth, ordering his brain to wake up. “This is Adam Mendel,” he said into the phone, his sleepy voice still rough from the night before.

  “Mr. Mendel, it’s Detective Evans. Do you have a moment to speak?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Are you still working the Kane contract?”

  “Yes,” Adam answered warily. Detective Evans did not sound pleased or excited and Adam guessed this wasn’t a call to inform him that the perps had confessed and named the mysterious person who had hired them.

  “Last night Michael Martin and the man you apprehended attempting to kill Kane, the man who fired the shots, they...well. I’m not sure how to say this. Mr. Mendel, I can trust you to be discrete? We haven't released this information to the press yet, but we feel that the Kanes, and their security should be aware.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Adam said, fully awake now.

  “Last night, those two prisoners committed suicide. They both hung themselves with their bed sheets in their cells.”

  “Shit,” Adam whispered.

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “How did this happen?”

  “We’re looking into it.”

  “Did either of them tell you anything? Did they tell you who was paying them?”

  “Unfortunately, no. They didn’t.”

  Adam wanted to scream and curse and hit something. He wanted to go back in time and interview the assassin himself; Adam could have made him talk. But now they were stuck back where they were before with no idea who the attackers were working for, spending every moment holding their breath and waiting for something to happen.

  “We have, of course, re-opened our investigation,” Detective Evans said with a sigh. “But at the moment, we’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible, but we felt the Kanes should know. I’ve given you the courtesy of the first call. My partner is calling John Kane right now.”

  “Thank you, Detective. I’ll tell you if I discover anything new.”

  “And I’ll do the same. Good luck, Adam. Stay safe.” The call ended and Adam flopped back down into his bed. Suicide, he thought, more likely murder, a cop on the inside. It was an impressive feat for the Soul Stealers, but not impossible, something Adam knew well enough.

  Still lying on his back, Adam called his uncle.

  “Yes,” Bill said, his standard phone greeting.

  “The two attackers committed suicide,” Adam sighed.

  “Last night?”

  “Yup.”

  “So the Stealers have someone inside?”

  “Yup, and they aren’t done with the Kanes.”

  “I’ll spread the word,” Bill said and ended the call. Brief as always.

  Adam called Joey next, but the call went to voicemail and Adam left instructions for Joey to call him. He knew he needed more sleep, a lot more sleep. But he was awake and his mind was racing with a million unanswered questions. There was no way he was falling back asleep now, so he pulled himself out of bed and jumped into the shower, remembering the last time he had been in there with Dakota.

  He missed her that night. He missed her warm presence next to him. He wished she were there, wished they were drinking coffee together out back, just talking and being with each other. He needed to call her; he needed to tell her not to worry.

  “Hi,” Dakota answered. Her voice was sweet, but here could hear a hint of sadness and worry in her voice. By now the detectives had called her father and she knew.

  “You heard?” Adam asked.

  “Yeah, Dad just got off the phone. What are we going to do? Adam this has to end. We have to find out who’s paying the Stealers to kill my father. I can’t keep living like this, jumping at every sound, always looking for threats.”

  “I know, I know.” Adam said. “We will find out who’s doing this. So today, just stay at home and do what the guys there tell you to do.”

  “I’m tired of this, Adam.”

  “I know.” It was all he could say. He couldn’t promise she would never be attacked again and he couldn’t promise that it was over. He could only remind her that she wasn’t alone, that he understood, that finding a solution to this was more important to him than anything else.

  “Um...I have to go. I’ll talk to you later?” she said.

  “Yeah,” Adam responded. He couldn’t tell if there was something different in her voice, coldness or confusion. Most likely she was just as tired as he was. This was supposed to be a day of celebration; they had caught the bad guys and saved the good guys. But the threats weren’t over yet. They still had a long way to go.

  Downstairs Adam put on a fresh cup of coffee. His body felt strained and ragged, like a car running on fumes. His ribs ached and his brain felt encased in fog. He hated feeling this way, useless and weak. He needed to be strong, for Scarred Angels and Dakota. He was the thread that kept everything connected, the thread that held everyone up. But he felt so thin, stretched to capacity. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

  While the coffee dripped down into the carafe, Adam walked over to his front door. He couldn’t remember the last time he had checked his mail. As he opened his bright red front door, he was surprised to see a letter stapled there. It was a simple white envelope with the word MENDEL written with a sharpie on the front. Adam stared at it for a moment, his brain on a five second delay. He couldn’t figure out what it was doing there, who had put it there.

  He reached up and pulled the letter free from the staple that held it. There were two items in the envelope. The first was a picture and Adam felt bile rise in his throat when he saw it: a Polaroid, taken in a low yellow light. In the center of the frame was Joey, his face beaten and bruised, one eye swollen shut, holding yesterday’s paper in his hands and giving the camera a defiant look. Behind the picture was a simple piece of lined yellow notebook paper with these words written in large block letters: MENDEL. TAKE OUT THE KANES AND HE WILL BE RETURNED WITHOUT FURTHER HARM.

  If Adam had anything in his stomach, he would have wretched it all over the street. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t swallow. He stared up and down the street, but no one was out. When had they put this on his door, had anyone seen? Where was Joey? There was no information, no address,
just the order to kill the Kanes and the empty promise that Joey would be returned if he did.

  Adam leaned heavily against his doorframe staring at the picture. They had done it, the one thing they never should have done. The Soul Stealers had failed to kill the Kanes over and over again, the first time due to their own incompetence, the other times because Scarred Angels had been there to stop them. The Stealers understood that Scarred Angels was the only thing in their way, so now they were attacking the club to get to the Kanes.

  Attack my family, Adam thought to himself, crushing the letter in his fist. All his tiredness was gone, the fog in his brain cleared. The Soul Stealers were done. Scarred Angels would take all of them out, not matter what the cost. They would be a warning for anyone who ever thought to attack Adam or his brothers again. The memories of the Soul Stealers would be nothing more than a warning whispered to others who would dare to threaten Scarred Angels. Adam was going to find Joey and he was going to find out who had taken him. No cops, no laws, Adam was going to end this once and for all, no matter what the cost was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Dakota felt silly driving in the back of the car, a member of Scarred Angels in the driver’s seat. It was everything Dakota had never wanted to be: a pampered princess who never lifted a finger. She had never wanted to be that dependent on others. She knew how to drive, how to work a budget, go grocery shopping, do her own laundry, cook, clean, and drive. She didn’t understand how people did this. She was nervous and antsy in the car, her leg jiggling in front of her and she kept lowering and raising her window.

  She was going to talk to Adam. The gentle warnings of her father had pinged through her brain all day, echoing around her brain, making her question everything. But then she remembered she had done this already. She had already put herself through this once before, convincing herself that Adam had no real affection for her. She had been proven wrong then by talking to him. When she worried and overanalyzed, she was only guessing at what Adam could be thinking. It was better to just go and talk to him, sort this all out.

  There was no reason they couldn’t be together. Yes, they were from different backgrounds. Yes, she had more money than him. Yes, he may have been involved in some illegal activities, but they could still make it work, couldn’t they? Could it be true that what they had was only created by the chaos they were embroiled in? Could that be all this was?

  Stop it, Dakota. Don’t do this again. Go and talk to him, get real answers to your questions. That’s the only way to know for sure.

  As they sped down Delaware Avenue, Dakota turned to the river and saw the boats gliding over choppy waters, transport ships bound for Europe and Asia. She lowered her window and breathed in the cool air that flowed over the water. She thought of Adam’s house that wasn’t too far from here. His clean and tidy little house. It wasn't the home of a dangerous criminal; it was the home of a man who had been alone for a long time, a man who had created his own life and worked to keep it going every moment of every day; he was a good man, Adam. A tough man, a hardworking man, she just needed her father to understand.

  The parking lot for Scarred Angels was empty. It was one thirty in the afternoon, and the club wouldn’t open for several hours. It was strange to see it so quiet and calm. Normally, at night, there would have been cars, puking club kids, and couples making out in dark corners. But at this hour, there were just the bikes that belonged to the Scarred Angels members and seagulls circling the sky looking for anything to scavenge.

  Dakota stepped out of the car and looked around. There were three members of the club sitting on a low concrete wall smoking cigarettes. She gave them a half-wave, but they only glared at her. Confused, she made her way to the entrance with Mark, her guard for the day, leading the way. As they walked past the smokers, Dakota could see them staring at her and shaking their heads. She wondered what was wrong and why they all looked so angry. Maybe something had happened yesterday when they had attacked the assassin, something Adam hadn’t told her.

  Mark opened the door for her, and she only got two steps before a wall of Scarred Angels members greeted her. About ten men in leather jackets and stern expressions glared at her over crossed arms. It stopped Dakota in her tracks. She didn’t feel unsafe, but she knew there was something dangerous in the atmosphere, something that would soon fall on her head if she weren’t careful.

  “What’re you all looking at her like that for?” Mark asked them.

  But none of them spoke; instead they just stared at Dakota. She could hear one or two of them mumbling under their breath, but nothing was said.

  “You need to leave, girl,” Dakota wasn’t sure who had said it, but she knew by their nods that the men in the line agreed with the speaker.

  “Why? Is Adam here?” Dakota asked.

  “Leave the country, go and don’t come back. You and your kind are nothing but trouble. You got all the money in the world, but you still need us to die so you can live,” a man spit.

  “What?” Dakota stepped back as if she had been slapped. “I never asked anyone to die.”

  “No, but a man’s gotta live. To live he’s gotta work, and it’s because of people like you that this is the only work we can get. Putting our lives on the line so you can sit pretty in your mansion.” It seemed to be a different man each time, like a many-headed beast. Each had a different voice, but they were all saying the same thing.

  “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven,” a voice said.

  “You’re no better than us. You’re not worth more,” another chimed in.

  “What the hell are y’all talking about!?” Mark demanded, just as confused as Dakota.

  “Get her out of here, put her and her father on a plane. We don’t need their business anymore. It costs too much,” one of the voices said.

  Dakota stared at the line of faces hurt and confused. Just yesterday that had, en masse, gone on a dangerous assignment to find her father’s killer and now they were standing around and telling her that she wasn’t wanted.

  “What’s changed? What’s happened?” Dakota asked. Something had happened and no one had told her. What could it be? Was it the suicides of the assassins that had turned Scarred Angels against her?

  “It’s family business. And you’re not family. You’re just another rich bitch we have to work for, so get in your daddy’s car and go!”

  “Enough!” a strong voice said. It was Adam’s Uncle Bill. He was walking down a set of metal steps, but he was slow and even. He was in no rush. Like everything he did, his movements were dedicated. “Ain’t the girls fault. No point in blaming her.”

  Dakota moved past the line of Biker’s who had stood down at Bill’s strong voice. She walked up the metal stairs, meeting Bill at the entrance to the office and following him inside.

  “What’s happening?” she asked him quietly.

  “Don’t concern you,” he said.

  “Where’s Adam?” she asked.

  “Busy next few days. Might be a good time to give him space.”

  Dakota stared at the older man in confusion. It was infuriating that no one would tell her anything. Did they think her that incapable? Just the other night she had tricked a man out of information and tracked another to his disgusting home. If they could only see that Dakota wasn’t a spoiled princess, wasn’t a rich bitch, she could help – if they would just let her.

  Bill’s phone rang, the noise making Dakota jump. He glanced at the phone and held up one finger to her, stepping out to take the call.

  Alone in the club’s office Dakota looked around at the scattered papers that littered the desks. Security monitors flickered and there was the occasional noise from walkie-talkies sitting in their chargers. Dakota glanced at the door, but Bill was nowhere to be found. Quickly, she began to rifle through the pages on the desk, trying to find out what was going on. There were bank statements, permits, checks, and timesheets. And then she saw it, the edge
of a photo sticking out from underneath a copy of last month’s Popular Mechanics.

  Shaking, Dakota looked at the picture of a beaten and battered Joey with yesterday’s paper, Joey who had saved her that night in the parking garage, and who had chased after her attacker with no concern for his own safety, and the note, the Kanes for Joey. Dakota looked behind her nervously, thinking of the gang of bikers on the other side of the wall. They were family; they would protect each other before anything else. Dakota knew she was a job to them, nothing else, a rich bitch they wanted nothing to do with. She slipped the photo and note back under the magazine and swallowed as she realized the men hired to protect her might just kill her instead.