by Jessie Cooke
Patrice opened her mouth to ask another question, presumably...but suddenly both of her hands went to her stomach and she stood up and said, “Bathroom?”
“First door on the right. Don’t puke on my wood floors.” Patrice raced toward the bathroom and Gabe got up to follow her. “She’ll be fine, kid,” Bernie said. “You want a beer?”
Gabe glared at the older man. He may not have killed Kasey, but he could have either prevented it, or gone to the authorities so that the people responsible would have to pay for it. Instead, he profited off it, not to mention whatever he’d gotten paid for ratting out the Jokers as well. He was living large off everyone’s blood money and Gabe would love nothing more than to drive his fist right into the center of the man’s smug face. “How do you look at yourself in the mirror?” Gabe asked him.
The big man’s body shook with a laugh. “I got no problem looking at myself or sleeping at night. You wear a kutte, right?” Gabe didn’t answer him, but he went on anyway. “You think any of the shit you do for that asshole Blackheart is any better than anything I’ve ever done? I’m opportunistic, I go where the money is. If I thought Blackheart would have paid me to keep the information I had from the Feds, I would have gone to him first. But I knew his ‘payment’ would have been my dead body in one of his swamps. I was doing a job, and I did it well for a while. I had a family of my own to take care of.”
“You have a family?” Gabe looked around the room at last. There were photos on the walls. Some of them were of a young boy and girl and some of them were of older teenagers. There was one “family” style photo in the center of it all. A blonde woman sat on a chair and Bernie stood behind her. On either side of them were the same boy and girl in all of the photos.
“That’s my wife Linda, God rest her soul, and my kids George and Jewel. They’re on their own now, doing well, I might add. I got a new grand-baby too,” he said, with a smile. Gabe continued to frown at him. The man was crazy, acting like this was some kind of social call and talking about people being blackmailed and murdered.
“Blackheart would never be okay with a young woman being murdered,” he told Bernie.
“I’m sure you’re right, especially had he known he knocked her up before she got thrown out a window.”
“You went to Maine after Patrice was born, why?”
“Follow-up.”
“So her family knew she had a baby before she came back to New Orleans?” He didn’t answer that question, but his smile was answer enough. “She recognized you somehow...”
“She got all weird when she saw me, yes. I think she finally figured out that her family was having her followed. I mean it would have been a hell of a coincidence if she had seen me in New Orleans before she left. It was a mistake, on my part, to check into that inn. Nothing came of it, though. She still turned up for her daddy’s funeral.”
“And ended up dead. You’re disgusting. You profited off that woman’s death, and you let her daughter grow up never knowing who her real parents were when you knew all along.”
He held up his palms and said, “Hey, none of that was my decision...that’s on the old woman. And of course, once she passed, the dear Lebouxes couldn’t tell their ‘daughter’ that everything had been a lie, and that the man she thought was her father had actually killed her mother...and that her adoptive mother knew about it all along...”
“Shut up!” Patrice had come out of the bathroom and was standing in the hallway. She still looked pale and Gabe could see that she was shaking all over. He went over and put his arm around her and she pressed her face into his neck and said, “I want to go home.”
Gabe didn’t ask any questions and neither of them looked back at Bernie. He walked on his sore foot and let her lean on him and when they got to the car, he tucked her into the passenger seat. On his way back around to the driver’s seat he took out his phone and took a picture of the house. He sent it, along with a text to Blackheart that said
“Bernie lives here, alone. He says Patrice’s uncle killed her mother and he got paid to keep his mouth shut. Patrice is not doing well. I need to take her home. Just thought you might like to know that Bernie is still a dick, and pretty smug about you not feeding him to the gators. See you when you get back.”
He sent the text, went and picked up their guns off the front porch, and then drove the five hours back to New Orleans. It was the middle of the night by the time they got back to Patrice’s apartment. His Maw Maw had taught him how to make a mean cup of peppermint tea. She used to tell him that peppermint tea was like love potion. Gabe laughed when she said that, but now he at least hoped it would be the potion Patrice needed to take her sorrows away. When he brought it out to her, she’d changed into a pair of oversized sweatpants and tank top and was sitting on the couch with her feet curled up underneath her. Her face was scrubbed clean, but her eyes were still red from all the crying she’d done in the car. He handed her the mug and she held it in both hands, bringing it up to her face and breathing in the aroma of the peppermint. When she looked back up at him with her red-rimmed blue eyes, she gave him a small smile and said:
“I should have said this last night, but I love you too.”
Detective Stone sat in the passenger seat, and Detective Petit drove the nondescript, brown sedan down the highway in front of Patrice’s car. Gabe’s foot still wasn’t healed enough to ride his bike and it was killing him, so now when they went anywhere together, she let him drive the car. It was the least she could do for his masculinity, she thought with a smile. Today she was glad he was driving. She was so nervous that she was shaking, hoping that nothing went wrong today. Petit had told her she couldn’t be there when they arrested her aunt and uncle, but he hadn’t known how much trouble she often had following the rules. Gabe kept telling her she was more like Blackheart than she’d ever know, and although she might not admit it, she was beginning to see it herself.
After she and Gabe met with Bernie, she knew he was going to tell Blackheart. So before he and his guys could go scoop Bernie up and...do whatever it was they were planning to do to him, she went to him and begged him to instead try to “convince” Bernie to testify against her aunt and uncle. She didn’t know, nor did she care, what Blackheart did to the old ex-biker; she was just relieved when he called and told her that Bernie was ready to talk. The club had “escorted” Bernie to the NOPD, and he’d met his attorney there and spent hours talking. He was going to get a deal, and walk away unscathed, as usual...but Patrice took comfort in knowing the people responsible for her mother’s death would finally pay. Most of them, anyway. She almost hated that her grandparents were dead. She wished they were still alive so that they could pay for what they’d done to her mother as well. The more Patrice found out about her, the more she knew she would have loved her. She was a free spirit and full of life, and they’d stolen that from her just because they were ashamed of the way she chose to live out loud. Meanwhile they pretended to be so upstanding and all of them had ugly, black souls and a pile of skeletons in their closets.
Patrice couldn’t wait to see her “parents’” faces when Detective Petit told them he was there to take them back to New Orleans to be charged with murder, and conspiracy to commit murder, and blackmail. She hated that it had come to this. She’d loved them...once. But the twenty-six years of lies, deception, and murder had wiped those feelings out and all she felt for them now was contempt. She had contempt for Bernie too, who could have taken care of this all twenty-six years earlier...but at least he was the lesser of the evils and the other two would finally pay for the beautiful life they’d not only snuffed out, but cheated Patrice out of as well.
Gabe parked the car across the street from the house where Patrice had grown up. The two of them got out and stood with their backs against it and watched as the detectives made their way up to the front door. Petit knocked and when the door was opened, Patrice could see the confused face of her uncle. Seconds later, she heard her aunt scream and then she watche
d them both be handcuffed and led towards the detectives’ car. Her “mother” was almost there when she looked across the street and her eyes met Patrice’s. For a few seconds their eyes were locked and Patrice searched for the remorse she still hoped might be there. Instead, all she saw was rage and if she wasn’t mistaken, her own dear “mother” might have called her a nasty name before she was tucked into the back of the car. Her uncle never made eye contact with her, but she stood there, waiting, until the car drove away back toward New Orleans. She would be there for their trial, and every hearing in between. She planned to do whatever she had to in order to make sure their money and her family name didn’t allow them to skate out of this.
Once the car turned the corner she looked at Gabe and smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.” She knew he still had to face Blackheart and he would be the one to get an ass chewing, or worse, for her going to Shreveport and talking to Bernie before Blackheart had a chance to get there. But he didn’t seem to be worried about that. He’d put all of his time and effort into making sure she was okay. Even now, still limping on his bandaged foot, he came around the side of the car and put his arms around her. Hugging her tightly he whispered:
“I will do anything for you, anytime, anywhere.”
“I love you,” she whispered back.
“I love you too.” Gabe kissed her and when she broke the kiss she said:
“Did I hear your friend Chance was getting out of the hospital today?”
“Yep. He’s still toothless, but otherwise all better.” Patrice elbowed him lightly in the ribs.
“You’re not going to tease him about that, are you?”
“Hell, yes. It’s about time Pretty Boy wasn’t so pretty, and it’s his fault I nearly got my leg torn off by that gator, so I’ve got to give him hell about something.”
“He did all that for his girl, huh?” Gabe nodded and Patrice hugged him again. “I like it that you guys are so loyal.”
Gabe thought about all the guys back at the club. Most of them had sex with a different girl every night, and sometimes more than one. But he didn’t mind letting her believe they were all as loyal as him and Chance for now, because he never planned on letting her down. He nuzzled his face into her hair and inhaled. He loved the way she smelled. “You ready to go home?”
“Huh-uh. Let’s go make sure your friend doesn’t need anything. Maybe we can take them dinner or something.”
Gabe’s heart warmed. At first he’d been worried about her adjusting to club life and how much his brothers meant to him, but now he had a feeling that she was going to make a damned good old lady...except for the part where she wanted to stick her nose into club business. He chuckled silently and thought, “Her blue-eyed paw can deal with that.” They were definitely both forces to be reckoned with. “I think Chance and Sharon would like that.” She started to walk back around to her side of the car when he added, “As long as we take Old Toothless some mashed ’taters or something.” He got another elbow to the ribs, but she laughed too.
23
Three Months Later
“Jesus Christ, Blackheart, it’s been twenty-six fucking years!”
Blackheart sat on his bike looking as calm and cool as he always did. He smiled at the man tied to the cypress tree in the middle of the swamp. “Some say I’m like an elephant. I never forget.”
“If it wasn’t for me, those people wouldn’t have pled guilty to murdering your daughter’s mother! They’re doing fifteen and twenty-five years in prison, because of me!”
“Yep, you always were a good rat,” Blackheart said, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke in Bernie’s direction. “Funny you should mention my daughter when you talk about helping, though. That girl grew up never knowing me, or me her...she grew up with murderers as parents, never knowing she’d had a beautiful mother who loved her more than life itself. You could have rectified all of that, Bernie. If you’d come to me then, you probably wouldn’t have all those scars on your back now.”
“No,” he said, sweat dripping off his face and onto his naked torso. “You were already so pissed off at me. If you knew I had anything to do with that, you would have killed me.”
“I was pissed. I was pissed that I welcomed you into my club and treated you like a brother and you went behind my back and tried to bring my club down. Nothing is worse than a rat, Bernie...not even a murderer. Which, by the way, I’m not. I’ve only killed two men in my life, and since it’s just you and me here, there’s no reason for me to lie. I killed the man I thought killed my father, and then years later, I killed the right one. Christoff had it coming, the other man I’ve atoned to God for. So call me what you may, I am not a murderer,” Blackheart said, and then added, “I’m insulted by the implication,” before blowing another puff of smoke Bernie’s way. “Any other man I’ve ever known whose life ended tragically was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Men shouldn’t hang around in swamps after midnight.”
Bernie laughed. It was a combination of a laugh, a cry, and a cough. The bindings around his chest might be too tight...but Blackheart assumed they’d be loosened up soon enough. “You’re leaving me here to die right now! This makes you a murderer!”
“I beg to differ,” he said. “You’re still breathing. When I leave, you’ll still be breathing. If you should stop after I go...well, that’s on you, Bernie, not me. I hear that Julie still walks these waters. Maybe say a little prayer to the great Voodoo Priestess herself and see what she might be willing to do for you.” Blackheart slipped his skullcap on and Bernie began to beg and babble. With another smile Blackheart fired up the Harley and then just before he drove off and left Bernard Hebert tied to a tree in the middle of Manchac Swamp he whispered, “Hope a Rougarou don’t get ya.” Bernie’s screams were drowned out by the sound of the Harley engine roaring and the chrome pipes popping. Blackheart knew Bernie wouldn’t make it through the night, but he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. As far as he was concerned Bernie had already gotten to live twenty-six years longer than he deserved. Blackheart intended to head to Sally’s and fall asleep in his lover’s arms. He had given Gabe and Patrice his blessing, which had caused trouble for him with his sisters, who thought he should be even more overbearing with his daughter than he was them. But Patrice had proved to be much stronger than any woman he’d ever known, other than Sally. And Gabe was one of the best men he knew, although every morning for the past three months when the young biker showed up to dig the new septic tank they were putting in even deeper, one might not know it. Blackheart couldn’t let the boy get by with defying him completely...and he’d been wanting to add a second bathroom at the club for a while now. Things always worked out in the end, he thought, especially if you kept your sense of humor. He glanced into the rearview mirror at the joker on the front of his vest and the patch that said “President,” and smiled.
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Books by Jessie Cooke
Jokers MC Louisiana
Blackheart
Gabriel
Maddox…coming soon
SKULLS MC Romance
Dax: (Southside Skulls 1)
Cody: (Southside Skulls 2)
Gunner: (Southside Skulls 3)
Zack: (Southside Skulls 4)
Levi: (Southside Skulls 5)
Kat: (Southside Skulls 6)
Hunter: (Southside Skulls 7)
Garrett: (Southside Skulls 8)
Wheelie: (Southside Skulls 9)
Jigsaw/Rusty: (Southside Skulls 10)
Chopper: (Southside Skulls 11)
Ryder: (Southside Skulls 12)
Wolf 1: (Westside Skulls 1)
Wolf 2: (Westside Skulls 2)
Bruf: (Westside Skulls 3)
Ash: (Westside Skulls 4)
Sledge: (Westsi
de Skulls 5)
Maz: (Westside Skulls 6)
Doc: (Skulls The Early Years 1)
Coyote: (Skulls The Early Years 2)
Beck: (Westside Skulls 7)
Rise of the Phoenix: (Phoenix Skulls 1)
Jace: (Phoenix Skulls 2)
Finn: (Phoenix Skulls 3)
Tse: (Skulls The Early Years 3)
AJ: (Phoenix Skulls 4)
Hawk: (Skulls The Early Years 4)
Lion: (Southside Skulls 13)
Collin: (Phoenix Skulls 5)
Boots: (Phoenix Skulls 6)
Crimson: (Southside Skulls 14)
Revenge: (Southside Skulls 15)
Ransom: (Westside Skulls 8)…coming soon
Bad Boys Series
Jake: (The Lion)
Brock: (The Rock)
Jagger: (The Musician)
Kyle: (The Rock Star)
Blake: (The Cowboy)
Billionaire Romance COLLECTIONS
Just like Grey: Complete Collection ONE
Just like Grey: Complete Collection TWO
Just like Grey: Complete Collection THREE
Just like Grey: Complete Collection FOUR…coming soon
Copyright © 2020 by Jessie Cooke
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