She pointed it at the sink.
“Point it at the trash can.”
She did the same.
I turned up my palms. “It’s that easy.”
“Here are the rules about guns.”
She set the gun aside, and looked at me.
“Never, under any circumstances, point a gun, any gun, at something you aren’t 100% comfortable shooting.”
She swallowed heavily, and then nodded. “Okay.”
“No matter what.”
“Okay.”
“Once you’ve made the decision that you’re going to point it at someone, you’ve got one of two situations. The first is this: you need to shoot, and there’s no time for demands. In that case, you do not hesitate, you shoot. Hesitation will cost someone’s life. Shoot first, make up a story to cover your ass later. The second is this: You want someone to do something. If that’s the case, you point the gun, and give your demand. For instance, a man is raping a chick behind a trash dumpster. I’ll pull the gun and say, get off of her and get on the ground. If he complies, great. If not, I’ve got a decision to make. Either way, I’m prepared to shoot, and we know that because why?”
She sat up straight. “Because you pointed it?”
I leaned over and kissed her. “You’re a quick learner.”
“So, that sums it up. Don’t point it unless you are mentally prepared to shoot it, and don’t hesitate if there’s a life at stake.”
“Got it.”
“I’m going to load it now. When I leave, it’ll be loaded. Leave it that way, and only get it out of the dresser drawer if you have to. It’s not an illegal weapon, but it’s not registered to me, either. It’s just easier that way. If the cops ever do a trace on it, it won’t come back to me.”
“Okay. What about you? What if--”
I raised my fists. “I’ve got these.”
She sighed. “I like your hands. And your little tattoo flowers. Don’t hurt them.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Don’t let anything happen to my three babies.”
She looked at me and squinted her eyes. “Three?”
I nodded. “You, Eddie, and little man.”
She grinned. “I won’t.”
My gut told me I could trust her.
So, that’s what I did.
Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six
Sandy
Dressed in a pair of boxer shorts I found in the dresser, and one of Smokey’s wife beaters, I danced around the house without a bra or panties.
It felt so good to let go for once.
I’d loaded the music app on my phone for Smokey’s Sonos system, and now I could see the names of the songs that played. I wrote down the titles and artists of the ones I liked, and skipped the stupid ones.
After an hour of dancing, I was exhausted.
One chocolate milkshake later, and I was missing Eddie, and even more so, Smokey. Knowing a nap was imminent, I set the alarm for 12:00, and changed clothes into something a little more appropriate, just in case Richard decided to come inside.
After P-Nut’s speech, he hadn’t so much as walked her to the door. I felt bad for not remembering to say that P-Nut was full of shit, but I figured I could tell him some other time.
I sat on the couch. As Band of Skulls, Cold Fame played, I closed my eyes.
I woke up confused.
Still groggy, but fairly certain that I’d heard something, I lifted my head and looked around the house.
Nothing.
I couldn’t decide if it was a dream. I rubbed my eyes and looked around the room, sure I’d heard someone screaming. I stood up, shook my head, and checked the clock.
11:47.
I heard a dull thud. Then, another. And, another.
I looked for my phone, couldn’t find it, and tip-toed toward the Sonos player. After pausing the music, I stood still and listened. My own heartbeat was all I could hear.
Then, the sound of muffled grunts from outside sent chills along my spine.
It sounded like it was right outside the door.
I ran to the bedroom, opened the dresser drawer, got the gun, and rushed to the living room window. After a deep breath, I pulled the blind to the side and peered out into the dark.
I didn’t immediately see anything. I scanned the yard from left to right. Then, I saw everything.
No.
No.
Oh my fucking God.
No.
I ran to the door, yanked it open, and leaped onto the porch.
What I feared was happening was happening.
My stomach heaved. The taste of bile rose in my throat.
I opened my mouth, but no words came. Not so much as a squeak.
Never, under any circumstances, point a gun, any gun, at something you aren’t 100% comfortable shooting.
I raised the pistol, and quickly realized they were way too far away.
I opened my mouth again.
Nothing.
At the end of the driveway, the devil himself was sitting on top of Eddie. His hands were swinging wildly, and he was beating her like he was trying to kill her. What little noise she had been making only a few seconds prior had ceased.
Panic shot through me, all but crippling me.
His fists crashed down against her face, one after the other. Then he yanked on her hand, lifting her torso from the driveway each time he pulled against it.
Seeing it was killing me inside. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak, and I was shaking like I was naked in Antarctica.
Motherly instinct took over. Without thought or hesitation, I ran off the porch and burst out across the yard in a dead run. Smokey’s words ran through my mind.
You want someone to do something. If that’s the case, you point the gun, and give your demand.
“Hey motherfucker!” I half screamed, half blubbered. “Get off my daughter!”
He glanced at me, and then yanked against her hand again.
When I reached them I could clearly see that Eddie was not okay. On her back, and either unconscious or dead, she wasn’t moving. The man on top of her seemed to be in another world, and continued pulling against her hand.
Beside her, a cellphone lay on the concrete.
If you can point your finger at something, you can point the gun at something.
I pointed the pistol at his head.
He looked right at me.
Hesitation will cost someone’s life.
Shoot first, make up a story to cover your ass later.
I looked him in the eyes. All the fear escaped me. I squeezed the trigger.
A blinding flash of light and a horrific boom happened at the same time.
Somehow, I was no longer holding the pistol.
I looked around me and realized I couldn’t see very well. The flash had come close to blinding me. Sobbing, I fell to my knees, and crawled toward the outline of the bodies.
My sight slowly returned, and it was clear her attacker was dead. Half of the lower portion of his face was missing.
And, Eddie wasn’t moving.
I shoved the dead man off her, leaned down, and wiped her blood-soaked hair away from her face. “Eddie?”
Her eyes were swollen shut, and her face was a battered mess.
A gurgling sound came from deep inside her throat. “My…ring…”
She’s alive.
Thank God.
I blindly searched for the phone that was beside her, picked it up, and dialed 911.
I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew if an ambulance didn’t come quickly, I’d lose her.
“911 please state the nature of your emergency.”
There was only one way I knew to get an ambulance, and get it quick. But, it would require me to tell a lie.
And, just this once, it was okay to lie.
I cleared my throat. “Uhhm. A police officer has been shot, and he’s wounded. Send an ambulance. He’s dying.”
“Your location?”
&n
bsp; I had no idea what my new address was.
I glanced toward the porch light.
10378.
“10378 La Quinta,” I said.
“Ma’am, can you provide a description of the shooter? Is he still on the scene…”
I threw the phone in the driveway, laid down at Eddie’s side, and held her in my arms.
“It’s okay, baby. Help is on the way.”
It had only been a matter of seconds, but I could already hear the approaching sirens.
“Hear that, baby? They’re coming to take you to the doctor. After you get cleaned up, we’ll have milkshakes.”
“My…ring…” she murmured, her voice almost inaudible.
I sat up and then looked at her swollen hand.
The ring was gone.
I stood, looked around, and saw it glistening between me and the dead piece of shit who tried to rob her.
I picked it up, and tried to slip it on her hand, but her fingers were far too swollen.
“I’ve got it, baby. I’ve got the ring,” I whispered.
The side of my car illuminated from the flashing lights from the approaching police and ambulance.
In an instant, there were police officers everywhere.
There was no way I could let anything happen to her ring. She’d almost lost her life trying to keep it.
I slipped it on my finger, stood, and waved my arms back and forth. “Here! I need you right here!”
Ambulance attendants rushed into the yard at the same time the police officers did.
Everyone was screaming, and asking questions, but no one questioned whether or not Eddie needed help. It was the first thing that happened.
As they loaded her on the stretcher, I leaned over her. “I love you. You’ll be just fine, my baby. I promise.” I kissed her forehead, pulled away, and then pressed my hand to hers. “Girl Power.”
Upon saying those words, tears ran down along each side of my nose.
Then, everything went black.
Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven
Smokey
Attending club functions wasn’t my bag of tricks, but when the club needed muscle, I was always willing to show up. More accurately, I wasn’t willing, I insisted on it. I had yet to miss any event that required a patch to intimidate, beat, or threated the life of anyone who the club decided needed it.
Standing around an old warehouse with 200 of So-Cal’s finest 1%ers, I stood amidst the only bunch I cared much for, the Hells Angels.
One of Hells Angels senior members, Bama, and Pee Bee were talking about the day Pee Bee’s father had a heart attack. On that day, Bama had gathered all the Angels at the rally, and led the way on a 150-mile trek to the hospital, providing an escort for the entire trip.
Bama stroked his long gray beard. “That family in the fuckin’ Chrysler Magnum was what I thought was funny.”
“The white one?” Pee Bee asked.
Bama nodded. “When we shot past him, he swerved so hard his tires smoked and his fuckin’ eyes were like this.”
He went wide-eyed and then looked hard to the left.
“That was funny as shit,” Pee Bee agreed.
“You alright, Brother?” Bama asked. “You look sick.”
I nodded. “I’m good. Just...”
I took a long breath, exhaled, and then met his gaze. “Nothing big. Daughter’s on a date, and my Ol’ Lady was supposed to call every hour. She hasn’t called in three.”
He looked at his watch. “It’s 2:00 a.m., Brother. Hell, they’re sleeping.”
I nodded. “She’ll wish she’d called when I talk to her next.”
He coughed a laugh. “I know that’s right. How old’s the daughter?”
“Seventeen.”
He stroked his beard and then shook his head. “When Harley was that age, it drove me nuts. Tough age for girls.”
“Tough age for all of us,” I said.
He gave a nod. “Amen to that.”
While Crip finished rubbing elbows with the other club’s decision makers, we talked about everything under the sun. the conversations had gone from fucking to food, back to fucking, and then landed on street races.
“I need a set of cams,” I said. “Bad.”
“What’s in her now?” Bama asked.
“Andrews A2,” I said.
“Shit, that fucker’s flat on the top end. You need to go with something that’s got a better horsepower reading. The A2’s got torque, but that’s about it.”
“Tell me about it,” I said.
My phone buzzed, and I about jumped out of my skin. I held up my index finger. “Here’s that call,” I said. “Better late than never.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket, looked at the screen, and although the number was local, I didn’t recognize it.
I swiped my thumb across the screen. “Smokey.”
“Grayson Wallace?”
“Who’s this?”
“Is this Grayson Wallace?”
“Depends. Who’s this?”
“Sir, this is Dr. Levinson at Scripps Mercy Hospital. Can you provide a Social Security number and any identifying scars or birthmarks for Eddie Cassandra Wallace?”
My heart sank, and panic shot up my throat.
I turned away from the men, and began walking away.
I swallowed hard. “Is she…is she okay?”
“Sir, I need to know if you can provide--”
“She has. She’s got. No scars. A dime sized birthmark on her left thigh. Social is. It’s uhhm. 514-82-3060.”
He shuffled some paperwork. “And, she’s your daughter?”
“Yes, she is. Is she okay?”
“She’s going in to surgery prep right now. We’ll likely operate within 30 minutes. If everything goes well, we expect her to recover fully. If at all possible, you need to get her as soon as possible. The procedure is rather complicated. Her skull is fractured, and her brain has swollen considerably. We’ve drilled holes to relieve the pressure, but we’re not seeing the results we’d like to.”
My hands began to shake uncontrollably. “What…where…where do I come to?”
“Scripps Mercy in San Diego. Ask for the trauma operating room.”
“I can call this number if need be?”
“Yes, this will ring the trauma desk.”
“What. What happened?”
“She was assaulted and beaten severely. She’s got a few broken fingers, her forearm is fractured, and several lacerations. I’ll forewarn you. You won’t recognize her.”
My blood was boiling, and I was shaking so bad I could barely hold my phone.
“What. What about her uhhm. Her mother?”
“Sir, I’m not at liberty to give out…”
“Is she okay?”
“Sir. You’ll have to speak to the police to obtain that information.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you have a wife?”
“I do.”
“I’ll ask again. Is her mother okay?”
He sighed. “She’s been taken into custody.”
“What?”
“That’s all I’m comfortably saying at this time.”
“She wasn’t. She wasn’t at. It wasn’t her fault? Was it?”
“Mr. Wallace, the only reason your daughter is alive and in good hands is because of your wife. I suggest you hurry, Mr. Wallace.”
“Thank you.”
I was an emotional wreck. I turned toward Pee bee and Bama, but couldn’t speak. I needed to get to Scripps Mercy ASAP, but my bike was a turd, and had no top speed to speak of. If I was forced to ride it, I might not make it in time.
We were fifty miles away, and getting anyone to give up their sled wasn’t going to happen, and I knew it.
“What is it, Brother?” Bama asked.
I swallowed hard, and gathered every ounce of courage I could muster. “Daughter’s been assaulted, and she’s knocking on death’s door. They’re uhhm. They’re going to cut into her brain. And, I don’t know wh
at’s going on, but they got my Ol’ Lady in custody, but it sounds like she might have saved my daughter’s life.”
I looked away and shook my head. After regaining my composure, I turned to face him. “I need to get to Scripps Mercy in SD quick.”
“Angels!” Bama shouted at the top of his lungs. “Saddle up.”
He looked at me. “We’ve got your back, brother.”
“Might have to ride bitch,” I said. “My shit’s slow as fuck, Brother.”
Pee Bee grabbed my shoulder. “Crip’s bike is the fastest motherfucker in the club. Hold on.”
I nodded, and he took off through the crowd.
Hells Angels came out of every crack and crevice, and then rushed out the building behind Bama.
Prepared to ride on the back of one of HA’s bikes, I stood like a complete idiot, feeling helpless and incapable. Worry for Eddie, and for Sandy filled me until I was sure I would burst.
Crip rushed to my side. “Something happen to Eddie?”
I couldn’t respond. I struggled to swallow, and then nodded.
He held out his hand. “Take mine. It’ll outrun anything here, Brother.”
I reached in my pocket, pulled out my keys, and handed them to him. He patted me on the shoulder. “Love ya, Brother.”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
The building began to shake from the rumbling of bikes outside the doors.
“Pee Bee and Cholo’s coming with,” Crip said. “I’ll go, but your sled won’t come close to keeping up.”
I nodded and somehow managed to speak. “Understood.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Crip said.
Pee Bee stepped to my side, and Cholo was right behind him. “Scripps?”
I nodded.
We rushed out of the building.
At the edge of the parking lot was a line of roughly a dozen bikes. Beside the line and in front, Bama sat on his bagger, revving the engine. “Who’s leading this parade?” he shouted.
“The Filthy Fucker’s will lead the way,” Pee Bee said. “We’ve got the fastest shit.”
I hopped on Crips bike, fired it up, and pulled alongside Bama, who was out in front.
“Red and White!” Bama bellowed over the sound of the exhaust. “Keep up if you can. If you can’t keep up…”
He paused and leaned to the side. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
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