by Jessie Cooke
He had to push Chance off him so that he could take off his wet, muddy vest and shirt. He used the shirt to tie around his leg, hoping to stop the blood loss long enough to make it back to his bike. He didn’t want to leave Chance alone, but there was no way he could take him. He’d have to pull him up as far from the edge of the water as possible and pray for the best. He felt a wave of nausea from the pain as he got to his feet and just as he was about to grab a hold of Chance’s vest again he heard his friend say, “What the fuck is going on?” His voice was raspy and with his lips in the mud, he was barely understandable...but Gabe was relieved to know he was okay...at least for now.
“Worst hangover you’ve ever had, bro, but no worries...I’m gonna get us out of this mess, as usual.”
8
By the time Blackheart got to Manchac, it was a full-blown circus. Gabe and Chance had been found because Gabe had managed to send a text message to Le Singe from the backup phone he carried in his saddlebag, right before he called 911, and then passed out. When the ambulance got there, he came to with a vengeance apparently, and refused to get in. They were having a hard time understanding him. He was weak and he’d lost a lot of blood, but he was still fighting them when they tried to put him on the gurney and load him into the back of the bus. Le Singe got there just as they were putting the kid into restraints with two cops holding him down. It was he who understood that Gabe was trying to tell them he’d left Chance about half a mile up the trail. Le Singe had almost gotten arrested, refusing to heed the cop’s order not to pass the yellow tape they’d put up when they found Gabe. He drove through it and the yellow tape and black words flew behind him like float decorations in a ticker tape parade as he pushed his Harley hard through the mud. The cops tried to chase him, but their cars got about four feet in before the deep, sucking mud had cemented their tires, refusing to allow the cruiser to move forward. Le Pirate followed his VP, and when they found Chance, the two big men were able to carry him back out to where the cops and EMS were. Blackheart arrived just as they were about to close the back of the ambulance, and so did Lowlife and the prospects who had been searching an entirely different area.
“Gabe! What the fuck happened? Are you okay?” There was an IV in the boy and his jeans had been cut up the side. All Blackheart could see was there were heavy bandages, tinged with blood. He glanced at Chance, who was in the same ambulance, and the only sign that kid was alive was the beeping heart monitor they had him hooked up to. A surge of rage hit him like a tsunami when he looked at the boy’s face. He’d been beaten, and badly.
“Tangled with a gator,” Gabe said in an exhausted voice, but surprisingly, he grinned before saying, “I won.”
“What were you doing here? What was Chance doing out here?”
“Sir, we need to get going,” the ambulance driver told him. Behind him there were two cops, one in uniform and one in plain clothes. The uniform had gloves on and was holding a piece of pipe about three feet long. On one end it was covered with blood, and blond hair. He swallowed another knot of rage and looked back at Gabe. Just as the ambulance doors were closing the kid said two words that ignited the fire in his belly:
“Mad Men.”
An hour later while Gabe and Chance were being worked on at the hospital, Blackheart was sitting behind his desk, surrounded by all the men Le Singe was able to pull together for church. The mood was somber as soon as they all heard what condition their brothers had been found in, but it was even worse as Sharon, Chance’s girlfriend and the woman violated by this other club, took center stage. She’d been the first one to alert Le Singe that Chance was missing, and Blackheart had spoken to her alone before he convinced her to tell her story to the guys. He knew they’d be hesitant, getting in on the fight they believed was Chance’s...but not after they heard what Sharon had to say.
The 5'2" 110 lb. strawberry blonde stood up in front of the roomful of men. Even before she opened her mouth, anyone present could see how nervous she was. She was twisting her hands together in front of her and the tremor that came out when she opened her mouth was heart-wrenching to listen to. “I found out yesterday that I’m pregnant.” There were a few whispers, but one glance from Blackheart shut them down and she went on. “The baby is not Chance’s baby. We always use protection. The only person I’ve...” Her eyes swelled with tears, but she pushed on, “The only person who has been inside of me without a condom was Gregor, one of the Mad Men. The night they assaulted me they did all kinds of horrible things.” The tears began to spill and most of the muscles in the men in the room tightened. The Jokers could be assholes, and they were wild, but Blackheart had strict rules against abusing women, and most of the men he let into his club agreed with those rules even before they patched in. “But the only one who...” It was almost painful to watch her stumble over her words. “The only one who left his seed inside of me was the one they call Gregor.” She broke down then and sat down in the chair behind her, putting her hands over her face and sobbing. The whispers began to turn into growls and Blackheart could tell that the men were growing restless, already imagining getting their hands on the pig who had done this to this pretty young woman.
Sharon pulled her head back up, and tears dripped off her pretty face and down into her hands as she went on, “This is my fault. I told Chance, and he found out where Gregor was...” she said, almost in a whisper, before collapsing again in a torrent of tears. Blackheart knew there wasn’t a man in the room that would blame her; any one of them would have gone after that motherfucker. He just wished Chance had called him first. He wished he could get the young ones to understand that part of being in a club like theirs was safety in numbers. Now he had two of his best men down, and no choice but to go after the man responsible. Blackheart picked up the phone and called out to the front:
“Villa, sweetheart, come and help Sharon out.” Villa was one of the older club “girls.” She’d been with the club since right after Blackheart started it. He used to hook up with her on occasion, but these days she was more about taking care of the younger girls, and less about being an easy lay for the guys. Besides, he’d recently made a promise to Sally that they’d be exclusive and he was sticking to it. The forty-something big-breasted woman was in the room in seconds. She put her arm around Sharon but before Sharon could be led out of the room she looked back at the men and said:
“I’m sorry, about all of this.”
Villa frowned but before she could say whatever was obviously on her mind Blackheart said, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. We’re going to take care of this, and you, young lady...okay? You take care of you and them babies of yours, everything’s going to be okay.” She nodded at him, gave him a little smile, and wiped at her tears before letting Villa lead her out of the room. Blackheart waited until she was gone before focusing his blue eyes back on his men. He was so angry that he wasn’t sure his own voice wasn’t shaking as he said:
“I blame myself for how much of this has played out. Back when this all happened, I was distracted by the man who was trying to take down this club and hurt Sally. I was willing to let Chance handle it how he saw fit. We should have gone in as a club and taken those three fuckers out, but hindsight is 20/20 and all we can do is move forward from here. I’ve sent Lowlife and two of the prospects out to Mississippi already. They’ll text me as soon as they’re there and let me know where Lear and Newton are and where most of the club is at. We’re going in strong, and we’re not leaving without Gregor, understand?” The men nodded, murmured and yelled their assent. They were ready.
Lear was the president of the Mad Men, and Newton the VP. Blackheart had never liked either man and he had no respect for the club, even before the incident with Sharon. But he had a small club himself and he didn’t go in guns blazing for no good reason. Chance’s face, and the trauma Gabe went through to save him...and the horror in Sharon’s eyes having to admit she was pregnant because of their assault...it was all too much. He wanted this done, quickly.
“Gear up,” he told his men, and then he sat and watched as they filed out of the room. He was about to pick up the phone to call Sally, just to tell her he loved her before they took off...just in case...but Patrice walked into the room, right in the midst of the sea of big, muscular Joker bodies going out. It was the first time he realized how small she was, and just fresh from dealing with Sharon, he wondered how he’d feel if it happened to Patrice, the woman he hadn’t yet even admitted was his daughter. A shudder ripped through him and his “daughter” arched a black eyebrow at him when it did. Covering quickly he squared his shoulders and said, “Sorry, hon, we’re kind of busy...”
“Where’s Gabe?”
Shit. He thought Le Singe had told her already. “He’s at the hospital.”
He saw the look in her eyes change and he knew that whatever she felt for the kid was real. “Why? Is he okay? Where did you find him? What happened?”
“He had a rough night out in the swamp, but last I heard, he was stable. I’d be willing to bet since you work there you can get more information than they’re giving me. I’d appreciate you keeping us posted, if you can.”
“What happened to him?” Her voice was shaking now and Blackheart’s own heart went out to her.
“He went to help a brother and tangled with a gator.”
“Oh, Jesus! Fuck!” Her hands were shaking and she turned to leave.
“Patrice, wait. Let me get someone to drive you back to town.”
“No,” she said. “No...I’m okay. I need to see him now.” She was gone then and he got the feeling that if she was his kid, she’d gotten his stubborn streak. Still, he was worried about her so instead of calling Sally first, he called Limp Biskit, one of his young prospects.
“Hey, I need you at the hospital. I want you to keep me updated on Chance and Gabe, and also look out for a girl who’s on her way there to visit Gabe and make sure...and I mean make absolute sure...that nothing happens to her, you understand?”
“Sure, boss...how will I know who this girl is?”
“Her name’s Patrice, and she looks just like me.”
“Boss?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No, sir.”
“Text me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Blackheart ended that call and dialed Sally. He was almost glad when she didn’t answer. He didn’t want her worrying, but he also didn’t want to get his ass shot without her knowing how he felt about her. All he said to the voicemail was, “Thinking about you, mon cheri. I love you.” After that call, he was ready. He opened his locked desk drawer and took out his “cannon,” the gun he only used for special occasions like this. It was the first gun his paw ever gave him, a Smith and Wesson Model 29 .44 caliber. A “Dirty Harry” gun...and he was ready for a bunch of punks to make his fucking day.
9
Patrice normally worked on the medical-surgical floor of the hospital, but she’d picked up enough extra shifts in the Emergency Department that everyone knew her there. She barely waved at the guy at the front desk and he buzzed her back. Once she was in the back she looked at the white board and found Gabe’s last name; again, barely waving at the staff who looked surprised to see her. She found his room and ducked in behind the curtain. As soon as he heard the sound, he opened his eyes. She realized at that moment that her feelings for him were a lot stronger than even she had thought they were. He was sweet, and kind, and really, really hot...but she hadn’t realized until just that moment how broken her heart would be if she never saw him again. If she never got to kiss him again. If she never got to make love to him...
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice raspy, like he had a sore throat.
“Hey,” she said, taking in the numbers on the monitors he was hooked up to, and the bulky bandage on the leg they had propped up on pillows. “What the hell? Is this a habit with you, or...?”
Gabe smiled and her heart sped up. “Forgot to tell you I’m a little accident prone.”
“Accident prone?” She smiled and shook her head. “I heard it was a gator.”
“He weren’t that big, didn’t even give me bragging rights and rip off my leg or anything.”
She looked at his leg again. “It looks like he did a pretty good number on it. What the hell were you doing out in the swamp?”
“Eh, you know...swimming and stuff.”
She nudged him on the shoulder. “This is serious, Gabriel. If you and I are going to have a relationship...”
His smile grew wider. “We’re going to have a relationship?”
“Hush, let me talk. I’m not sure I can stand all this, worrying about you all the time. No wonder Blackheart is single.”
“He kinda seems that way, but you ain’t met Miss Sally yet.”
“Miss Sally?”
“She’s his girl. She’s been his girl since they were kids...for some reason they both have a problem admitting it.”
“Well, if her life is anything like you’ve made mine the past few weeks, I can see her reasoning.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, letting the smile drop from his face. “It ain’t all getting shot and beat up and alligators and shit, I promise. This has just been an off month.”
She laughed at that and found his hand under the sheet. Giving it a squeeze she said, “I sure hope it’s not. And I hope these ‘off months’ are few and far between.”
He grinned but didn’t confirm or deny that. Instead he said, “Hey, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, I can try.”
“My friend Chance...Chauncey Leblanc...he was brought in with me. He was in pretty bad shape and I’m worried about him. Can you find out how he is?” Gabe heard Blackheart talking to the cops while he was being loaded into the ambulance. They’d found a lead pipe with blond hair and blood stuck all over it. They’d beaten his friend with a lead pipe before he got there...the thought of it made him want to throw up, especially because he’d gotten there too late to stop it.
“Yeah. Is he why you were out there in that swamp?”
“He needed my help, and he’d have my back in a heartbeat.”
She squeezed his hand again and nodded. “Alright, I’ll see what I can find out. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”
“Hell, they won’t even let me up to pee. I was pressing that buzzer for a while before you got here.” He grinned then and said, “You could help me with that too...”
She laughed. “Huh-uh, not my job. I’ll send in the male attendant with the urinal.”
“Fuck that,” he said, curling his lip. No guy was touching his junk, ever. Then jokingly he said, “I can’t believe you won’t help me out. I mean...I’ll bet you snuck all kinda peeks when I was recuperating from that gunshot. Ain’t like you never seen the equipment before, huh? Admit it. It’s what keeps you coming back.”
She loved the way his green eyes twinkled when he laughed. She threw a wink at him and said, “Of course I saw it, why the hell else would I still be here?” She could hear him laugh as she walked away. That shot of adrenaline she’d gotten when she heard he was hurt was receding, but it had left her body shaky...and she still didn’t like the fact that he never really told her the truth about what had happened to him. She didn’t know a lot about MCs, but she knew enough to know if she got involved with a man who belonged to one, that would probably be her life. She also knew enough about herself to know that she needed to do a lot of long, hard thinking about whether or not she’d be able to handle that before she went any further with this one. Maybe it was something she should have thought about before she got so attached. She’d never known her mother, but it seemed they had something in common...a soft spot for the bad boys.
The Mad Men worked out of a club behind an auto shop in Pearlington, Mississippi. It was just across the Louisiana/Mississippi border and only about an hour drive from the Jokers’ clubhouse. Blackheart and about a dozen of his men were about fifteen minutes out when he got the text from Lowlife telling him that both Lear’s and
Newton’s bikes were at the clubhouse and it looked like there were at least a dozen or so more of them there. Blackheart knew the easiest way would be a blitz attack, but the last thing he wanted was a sea of bodies. He wanted one man, and if he had to take more out to get at him he would...but he’d like to keep the slaughter to a minimum. He’d had enough legal shit to deal with lately; he didn’t need any more.
During the day when the shop was open the Mad Men didn’t have any defenses around them, which was similar to his club. Over the years various threats had given him reason to think about building a fence around the club and posting armed guards...but the whole idea of his club, from the first board he’d put up with his own two hands, had been freedom. He wanted to live free from social “norms” and free from government interference...and definitely, free from cages. So, he’d foregone the security and just made sure anyone thinking about attacking his club would know exactly what they were in for. He’d been accused of being like an elephant: he never forgot anything...and he never let anything go. Usually he struck back when people who had it coming least expected it, and that was what he was about to do now. He’d given these assholes way too much freedom to come and go in his territory, and they’d taken that liberty to the max. That would stop...today...and Lear would agree to his terms, which would include turning Gregor over to them, or his entire club would have hell to pay. Blackheart’s only problem was that he didn’t want anyone innocent to get caught in the crossfire. He wanted all the women and any children out of that club before they hit it.