“No, no. I’m fine. You sure you want me to stay?”
She had to smile. “They made supper and set the table. It’s no trouble.”
He just nodded back, stopping in the kitchen doorway.
“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” Annie informed Knuckles as she swung the fridge door shut.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You’re a guest. You should have a seat.” Annie yanked out the chair from the head of the table.
His grin was brilliant as he took the offered seat. “Thanks, Curly. You making your sister do all the work?”
Grace turned from the stove where the water was now boiling for potatoes. “She can’t reach the dials.”
Knuckles’ smile fell. “What the hell happened to your face?”
Shit, the split lip. There wasn’t a bruise but it was still swollen, and Grace put a hand over it and turned back to the pot.
Knuckles’ gaze shot to Danielle. “What’s going on with the women in this house?”
Danielle pulled Annie closer by tugging her arm gently. “Can you go watch TV for a second so I can talk to Knuckles? Please?”
“Mom, it’s none of his business.”
Her gaze stopped Grace’s thought, then she gave Annie a kiss on the cheek. “Please honey?”
She huffed. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I’m not a little kid, you know.”
“I know, honey. Thank you.”
Once the set came to life in the other room she sat next to Knuckles. “Grace had a guy confront her outside a community center in Bakersfield yesterday.”
“What?”
“He wants her to sell orange Oxy.” Danielle swallowed hard at the darkness that flashed through this man’s eyes. Her conversation with Deputy Troy came back to her then, and she wondered if this wasn’t a terrible idea. But heaven knew she was terrified of men like that having anything to do with her sixteen-year-old daughter. “She told him no, a few times, and he hit her. Someone called the police. She didn’t want to press charges but...”
“But what?” There was violence in that tone.
“Mom,” Grace whispered, her voice pleading. Danielle looked up, and her daughter was shaking her head. “Please, don’t.”
“Do you know a pot dealer named Brian in Markham?”
“Mom!”
“Brian?” Knuckles frowned, and she was sure she’d knocked him off track a little bit with that. “Brian Crawford?”
Danielle looked to Grace again. “Is that his last name?”
She just nodded, looking miserable.
Knuckles half turned back to Grace. “How the hell do you know Brian Crawford?”
“Through friends.”
There was a beat, then Knuckles turned back to her. “You realize this friend of hers is twenty-three years old and just got out of jail seven months ago?”
“What?” Now she was pissed. “Grace, you said he was nineteen.”
No reply.
“Yeah, I know Brian Crawford. His uncle works for me, and his uncle’s trying to bring him into our business.” Knuckles’ jaw worked under his impressive beard. “I expect you might know what that is.”
Danielle swallowed again. Shit, this might be a really bad idea.
“His uncle speaks for him. Are you telling me Brian hit her?”
“No,” both women said at the same time.
Danielle continued. “Some guy is getting Brian to recruit students to sell Oxy in Markham.”
Knuckles started drumming his fingers on the table. “Mother fucker,” he growled.
“They wanted Grace to do it. They knew she’d be in Bakersfield on Sunday, when and where. They confronted her in broad daylight and hit her.”
The tension was thick in the air, and it wasn’t awkwardness. Knuckles had sucked out all the oxygen, his stewing rage taking up any room that was left. She’d never been really scared of him before, but this was something to be terrified of. Whatever it was.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, shooting to his feet and heading for the door.
“Wait!” Danielle followed, for some insane reason.
“Stay here,” he growled, shoving the storm door open.
“What about supper?” Annie asked, innocently from the sofa.
“Keep something warm for me, Curly.”
Once he was gone, the house seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The only sound came from the Discovery channel on the television.
“Mom, what the fuck?”
She turned on her daughter. “Listen. I don’t know enough to keep people like that jerk in Bakersfield away from you. And you don’t do a very good job of that, either. So, I’ll leave that to people who know what they’re doing. Those are his people, Grace. If I need to count on him to keep us safe, that’s what I’ll do.”
Grace shook her head. “You’re insane. What if he gets hurt? What if this gets us in trouble with Knuckles?”
She had no answer.
“He’s coming back for supper, right?”
“Shut up, Annie. Who cares about fucking supper?”
Grace stalked down the hall and slammed her door shut. With a heavy sigh, Danielle sunk down next to Annie. “He said he’ll be back, but he might not eat with us, sweetie. We’ll make him a plate, okay?”
“Okay.” The voice was small and tight. Danielle pulled her daughter onto her lap.
“Hey, this’ll be okay. I promise. Okay?”
“Okay. Will Knuckles be okay?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
What a fucking weird day.
After the botched hit, he’d returned to his home, wanting to be alone. His head was fucked up, he needed quiet. But that meant he got absolutely no sleep whatsoever.
After tossing and turning for hours he dragged his ass out of bed, showered, and headed for the debrief at the clubhouse. In the interest of full disclosure, he had to let the club know about the wrinkle in his latest assignment. They didn’t want details, but if the fuck up meant trouble with Sachetti, or, specifically, Guidinger, they needed to know sooner rather than later.
Just from the thought of what had happened, his head began its slow buzz.
The main room was loud when he got there, most of the club and a few of the women clustered around Tank and Rose.
Shit! The baby. He’d actually forgotten to go and visit the baby in the hospital. But that was okay. He always felt weird crowding around a woman who’d just had a kid, wearing her paper gown, exhausted, trying to still be a good host, when all she wanted likely to do was fucking sleep.
Rose looked good, though. She was smiling, laughing, and the big guy was handing over his daughter to Spaz who immediately started making baby faces.
“That’s a beautiful baby,” he informed Rose, stepping past a few sweetbutts to kiss her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said warmly, squeezing his hand. “I think so, too.”
“You sleeping okay?”
She nodded, eyes tracking her child’s next transfer from Spaz to Gertie. “Not bad. Developing the system is hard, but I think we’ll get there.”
“I hope that ugly lug is helping you. You’re far too gorgeous to be doing all that alone.”
Rose just laughed at him.
A huge hand cuffed him upside the head. “Stop hitting on my woman.”
Knuckles grinned. “Don’t be so sensitive. She loves Yetis. It’s kinky but I don’t judge.”
Tank shook his head.
Knuckles held out his hand. “Congrats, man. She’s beautiful.”
Without a second of hesitation, Tank smiled and shook it. “Yeah, she’s amazing.” The big fucking softie.
It was good. It felt good to be here, celebrating more than a patch-in or a mass killing or anything else that ended in booze and fucking. This was a good reason to have everyone around, smiling and laughing.
The buzzing eased.
“Board room!” Jayce shoute
d from the hallway, and Knuckles headed for the hallway with the rest of his brothers. The door closed, Jayce rapped on the table for order, and the room fell quiet.
“First off, congratulations Tank. We knew Rose would make a gorgeous baby, despite working with half your DNA.” There were chuckles around the table, but Tank didn’t join in. He was too busy grinning like an idiot. “Now, Spaz has some news to share.”
Knuckles frowned. He thought these meetings were mostly for catch-ups on the shit Guidinger had him doing. This must be something big and urgent.
“Found something on the police scanners early this morning. Bakersfield PD has issued a missing persons’ report for Julia Guidinger.”
Everyone looked at everyone else, but Rusty spoke up. “Who the fuck is she?”
“Guidinger’s wife,” Spaz answered easily. “He hasn’t seen her in twelve hours. He’s got some pull with the cops, maybe the crooked ones anyway.”
“So his wife is missing? What does that matter?”
Spaz and Jayce shared a look. Jayce answered. “A man and woman were found shot in a home outside Bakersfield this morning when a cleaning lady came in to work. Their chatter on their phones and email is that it’s Guidinger’s wife.”
Knuckles’ stomach rolled. The buzzing came back.
Jayce leaned towards Knuckles slightly, eyes making contact. “What happened last night?”
Knuckles nodded. “Back door was left open, like they said it would be. I walked right up behind the guy. The TV was on so loud he never heard a thing. Plugged him in the back of the head. Thing is, he had a woman on the floor giving him head.”
There were a few surprised coughs.
“Again, the TV was so loud I didn’t know he wasn’t alone. I hadn’t worn a mask because his wife was out of town. He was supposed to be the only one there. She saw my face. I...I couldn’t do anything else.”
The buzzing got louder.
His brothers just stared. Dropping his gaze to the table, Knuckles swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. Shit shit shit. If she was Guidinger’s wife, then...
“He fucking set it up.”
The room got quiet.
“Talk to me, Knuck.”
Knuckles look Jayce square in the eye. “His wife was fucking around on him. He fucking set this up.”
“He had to know we’d figure out who she was.” Spaz sounded certain.
“Why do that, though? It can’t just be for that.” Buck leaned on his elbows so he could glance down the table at their IO. “Who’s the guy?”
Spaz’s eyes flit from Buck to Jayce to Knuckles and back to Buck. “Brent Charles. Independently wealthy. A made man. And he’s married to Michael Sachetti’s sister.”
The room fell deathly silent.
Knuckles’ head spun from the implications. Anyone hiring an assassin to take out a married man who was fucking the wife of another made man’s lackey looked like...what? They were starting war? They wanted a fight to start? Against Sachetti and his known associates?
But Guidinger was starting it. And apparently Guidinger was exactly the piece of shit they thought he was.
“He’s undermining Sachetti,” Jayce mused out loud. “That time Tiny’s load got jacked...that felt all wrong.”
“I don’t trust him,” Knuckles piped up. “He gives me a gun and I use it, but I wipe it down. The rounds. The clip. Everything. I don’t even use the latex gloves they give me.”
“Good. That’s good. And they told you to leave the gun?”
Knuckles nodded.
“I wonder who you were supposed to frame.” Jayce’s question hung in the air for a second.
“I wonder if he’ll come here, ready to rip into Knuckles for plugging his wife.” Tank turned a worried look his way. “I don’t trust him, either.”
“I fucking hate that guy,” Fritter spat out, for about the thousandth time.
“We need a plan to get out from under him,” Knuckles said, bringing the attention of the entire table. “He might make like this wasn’t on purpose, he might come in here and threaten us to keep playing his way or he turns us in to Sachetti. We should start thinking about how we get away from that rat.”
“Shit,” Buck whispered, putting his head in his hands.
“We don’t have to fuck over Sachetti to do it,” Knuckles pointed out. “Because that’s what Guidinger’s doing. We could bring that prick down and stay on Sachetti’s good side. Somehow.”
“Do we let Sachetti in on it, or do we just kill the asshole?” Fritter raised an eyebrow. “Either way, I volunteer to kill the guy.”
“We need to be vigilant,” Jayce said quietly. “We keep our shit tight so that none of that asshole’s bullshit creeps in and hurts us. For now, we play the part of the all-in, lapdog MC he wants us to be. But Knuckles is right. We need to think about how this can play out. I think if we’re smart, he’ll never see us coming.”
Knuckles nodded his agreement and Jayce clasped his hands together on the table. “Also, Dad gets out of prison this Wednesday. He’s been granted a pardon and the DA is already working on a settlement to keep him quiet. I’ll be going over to Kern Country to pick him up when they spring him. Not sure what time yet. I’ll get Spaz to pull his bike on the trailer. I’m sure he’ll want to ride it back.”
There were chuckles around the table.
“Anyone want to ride out there with me?”
“I’ll go,” Fritter said immediately. As he should, he was the SAA.
“I’ll go,” Knuckles offered.
“You’ll be okay to ride that far two days from now?” Jayce was skeptical.
“I was thinking of pulling the bike out today. I need to get on two wheels again.”
“Sounds good.” Jayce nodded his appreciation. “Now everyone go love on Tank and Rose’s daughter before naptime.”
The baby made the rounds again, and Knuckles held Aurora June Williams for a short while before passing her on to Sharon Downey. Then he headed out into the courtyard to his bike.
Three weeks she’d been parked there and ignored. He brushed the dust off her seat and turned the engine over, the roar of the engine bringing about a smile. The buzzing couldn’t compete with the sound of a Harley Dyna.
“Hold up!”
Knuckles turned in time to see Fritter jogging his way, grinning. “What do you want?”
“I wanna go for a ride, too.” Fritter gave him an affable grin as he finished shrugging on his kutte. “Sharon’s taking Adeel to his speech therapist. I got nowhere to be.”
“What’s Jayce up to?”
Fritter shrugged. “He’s heading home after he and Spaz meet on something. I know what they’re on about. I think he’s got Spaz monitoring for more on this fucking mess Guidinger got us into.”
Knuckles had to smile, relieved no one was blaming him for this. Running it through his head all night, he knew there was nothing else he could have done to get out of there and not wake up in jail this morning.
Fritter got his bike up and roaring, then they took off out of the lot in a spray of dust and an unholy rumble.
Knuckles felt the buzz die off when they hit the freeway. No destination, no timeline. This was why he chose to be a Red Rebel, to live his life as he did. Yes, there were times when he was called on to do the shitty work that risked further stains on his conscience, but the trade off cancelled it all out. In another life, he’d be stuck at a store or in an office on a day like this.
After thirty minutes on open road, Fritter motioned to pull off at a truck stop and Knuckles followed. They parked in the angled spots near the door, and as Knuckles pulled off his helmet he knew he was grinning.
A long ride on the bike had a better effect on him than anything else.
“How’s the ribs?” Fritter asked, pulling off his sunglasses and unbuckling his chin strap.
“Good.” And they were. Not a hint of complaint. But a break was likely a good idea. Plus, he hadn’t had a coffee that morning. “Buy ‘ya a
coffee?”
“I’d let you do that.”
The restaurant had the air conditioning running at top speed, and the temperature change was refreshing. They claimed a booth that gave them a view of the door, then ordered coffees and a couple of slices of pie.
“So, things are good with that kid?” Knuckles asked, drinking his coffee straight.
“Adeel? He’s okay.” Fritter shook his head. “Or, he will be. I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I think he’s kinda fucked up.”
“Really?”
“I mean, he’s scared of everyone. He can’t handle large groups, it gets too crowded and loud and he’s sullen and hiding in his room for two days. And he’s so attached to Sharon. I mean...” Fritter ran a hand over his hair, exhaling. “It’s almost unhealthy. I tell her she’s gotta let him stand on his own but...he clings to her and she just lets him.”
Knuckles nodded. “He went through a lot, man. And I mean, it makes sense he’s scared of strangers.”
“I know. And he is better than he was. He’ll come to the clubhouse, but again he’s stuck to her side. Thank Christ she doesn’t let him sleep with us.”
“I don’t think he’d want to, Fritter.”
Fritter barked out a laugh. “No, I know. I’m just...I’m tired of sneaking around in my own fucking house just to touch my woman, you know. I’d rather be able to fuck her when the mood strikes, not wait until we know the kid’s asleep.”
Knuckles laughed. “That’s parenthood, man. Did you have to be told that?”
Fritter just grinned.
Over dessert they bullshitted a bit more, and the buzzing didn’t make a reappearance at all. As they dropped cash on the table to cover the tab Fritter’s eyes shot over his shoulder, a frown wrinkling up his whole damn forehead.
“What’s up?”
“Fucking kids, man.”
Knuckles looked back over his shoulder, catching sight of a couple of punks by their bikes, parked as they were outside the huge plate glass windows. They were reaching out and touching the handlebars, the seats. One made like he was going to climb on, then didn’t, and they both cut up in laughter.
Knuckles was grinning as he turned back to Fritter. “Oh, come on man. We can have fun with that.”
Shelter (Red Rebels MC Book 5) Page 13