A Family Man

by osborne, Sarah

Joe had been right. This wasn’t just about numbers. They were going to need the best that each chapter had to offer. Gradually over the next few days, Vegas filled up with Freaks from every clubhouse from Tucson to Washington State. He looked up as the door opened and Barney, Wolf and Bully walked through with broad grins on their faces. His grin matched theirs as they approached. “Brothers. It’s good to see you.”

  Barney gave him a one armed hug. “Shit, bro. Can you, for once, just do a job without over complicating things?”

  “Nah, wouldn’t want you to miss out on some shit kicking.”

  “Nice of you to share.”

  It was a week before they were ready. Mac had created some computer models using Google Earth and the photographs Samson had taken, and the place had been closely watched and any comings and goings noted. They had been careful not to draw attention to how many Freaks had gathered at the clubhouse. Arriving in twos and threes and parking their bikes in the alley at the back, well out of sight, they had managed to gather together without raising suspicion. Finally they were ready, or as ready as they’d ever be. Under cover of darkness, in vans, trucks and cars, they headed out through the desert and got in position ready for a dawn attack. They certainly outnumbered their opponents but it would be a pretty safe bet that despite this they would still be at a disadvantage. The place was heavily fortified and their weapons were inferior. They did however, have the element of surprise, and many of the guys had military experience, so as they readied themselves, most were optimistic that they would be successful.

  ~ oOo ~

  Barney laid down and fixed the silencer to his sniper rifle. In precisely five minutes he was to take out the guys on the roof while Bully, who was a few yards away, would take down the two watching the front entrance. At the same time, half the team would break in through the unguarded but locked back gates, and the other half would storm the front. Hopefully he would be able to take out the dogs as well as have the chance to pick off others.

  Carefully, he lined up his first shot, slowing his breathing and relaxing his muscles, as his cell buzzed. He fired. The first bullet hit true, the second not quite. He hit his victim, but it wasn’t a kill shot and he managed to shout out before a second bullet hit him between the eyes. From his position, he watched as all hell broke loose. Bully had hit both his targets and at least one dog and suddenly the place was swarming with patches. Realizing there was too much smoke and chaos for him to be of any use, Barney abandoned his rifle and ran down the hill, pulling his Glock out of its holster as he approached the nearest gate, taking down a big skinhead, before he had the chance to shoot Spike in the back. Spike turned and their eyes met, before they resumed the battle.

  Close combat had never really been Joe’s strong point. Despite this, he threw himself into the fray, not even hesitating when a familiar burning told him a bullet had clipped his shoulder.

  It was pandemonium. The air was thick with shouting and the screams of injured men, and there was so much smoke it was difficult to see. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Samson go down. “Samson!”

  “I’m okay.” Joe watched as he dragged himself to the relative safety of a barn wall, then continued with his assault. There was nothing he could do for his brother right now. He spun around as someone touched his shoulder. “We have five minutes before the house goes up.” Bugs grinned. “Time to get our asses out of here.” He gave a shrill whistle and gradually, still firing, the Freaks pulled back, Joe and Spike dragging Samson unceremoniously between them.

  The explosion could be seen for miles. Of course, by the time the emergency services turned up, they had all dispersed, leaving dead and wounded white supremacists behind them.

  They had all survived! Not entirely intact, but they would all live to fight another day. Joe had sustained a gunshot wound to the shoulder. It was clean, little more than a flesh wound, but it would leave an impressive scar. Both Barney and Bully had taken hits, but they weren’t life threatening. The most seriously injured was Samson. The bullet had lodged itself in his thigh, and although Long John and Bugs had managed to get it out and stop the bleeding, he wouldn’t be riding for a few weeks at least.

  ~ oOo ~

  Joe sat on the floor outside, his back leaning against the wall, and pulled out his cell. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hey. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s all good. Samson got shot up. He’s gonna be laid up for a while. How would you feel about him staying with us? He could really do with some home comforts.”

  “Samson is always more than welcome to stay. But if he’s shot up, how’s he getting here?”

  “Prospect will bring him and his bike in the van.”

  “Is every one else whole?”

  “We’re all fine, Beth. It went like a dream. I’ll be home in a few days.”

  All was quiet as they sat in the clubhouse and watched the news report the days events at Hope farm. The authorities were putting it down to some sort of internal beef. They would be questioning the survivors as soon as possible. Joe leaned back, stretching his long legs in front of him and looked to where Dixon’s cut lay across the bar. No one could remember seeing him, but his cut had been hanging across his Harley. They’d taken it and torched his bike as well as the farmhouse and all the motor homes. If he’d been hiding in any of them, he would have been burnt to a crisp.

  “How you doing, bro?” Spike sat down next to him and handed him a beer.

  “Good.” Joe looked back at the TV. “Be happier once I know that asshole is dead.”

  “I think we can be sure of that. We know he was in there, and I don’t see how he survived.”

  “Some did.”

  “Nah, reckon most won't survive the night. Relax man, we did good. Showed those motherfuckers, that no one messes with the Freaks.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Samson eased himself carefully onto the kitchen chair and watched as Tiny’s old lady busied herself with preparing lunch. He had been staying there for just over a week now, and it looked like he’d be there for a while longer. The bullet had ripped through the muscle and chipped his thigh bone, and then the wound had become infected. The antibiotics that Tiny had managed to get were doing their job and he was starting to feel a little less feverish, but still felt like shit.

  Beth turned and smiled. “Hey. How you feeling?” She crossed the room and pressed her fingers against his brow. “You’re still hot. I really think you should see a doctor.”

  “I’m okay. Seeing a doctor will just complicate things.”

  “I guess. Do you want something to eat?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Samson, you have to eat. How about I make you some soup?”

  “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble.” She bent and kissed the top of his head. “You need to keep your strength up.”

  “I really appreciate all you’re doing for me, Beth.”

  She shrugged. “You’re family.”

  They both turned at the sound of the front door closing. Joe walked in, throwing her car keys onto the table and dropping a bag of groceries on the counter. “That’s everything on the list apart from the chorizo.” He bent and kissed her neck. “So what do I get for running errands for you?”

  “You get to eat.” She turned and slipped her arms around his neck. “And maybe we can find a use for those bananas and whipped cream, later.”

  Samson chuckled. “You do know I’m still here, right?” They both turned with huge grins on their faces, and he scowled. “You disgust me.”

  “Why don’t you two boys go into the den and leave me to get the lunch.” With her hands flat on Joe’s chest, Beth pushed him away before turning back to her cooking.

  As Samson hauled himself up onto his feet and, leaning on his crutches, followed his friend, he wondered if he would have been able to adapt to the sort of domesticity that Tiny had. He could never quite wrap his head around how it was possible for a man who could
torture and kill without a second thought to then be able to go home and be a loving husband and father. Somehow, though, against all the odds, his brother managed to pull it off. He knew Beth was under no illusion as to what her old man did for the club, and he guessed that maybe that was why it worked.

  It had been nearly twenty years since he’d had anything like a serious relationship and truthfully he thought it would be unfair to expect a woman to put up with having a nomad as an old man. But watching Beth and Tiny, he wondered what it would be like to have a warm house and the loving arms of a good woman to come home to. He all but collapsed on the huge sofa, exhausted by the short walk across the room.

  Tiny frowned. “You okay, bro?”

  “Yeah. Getting pissed at feeling this weak. Just give me a sec.” He took a deep breath and waited for the dizziness to pass. “Your old lady is taking good care of me. She’s a great girl. You’re a lucky man.”

  Tiny grinned and switched on the TV. “Yeah, I am.”

  Amy parked her truck and walked towards the house with a spring in her step. Finally, after months of waiting, Andy, the best looking boy in the school, had asked her out on a date. It would have been nice to go home a talk about it, but although she was sure Beth would be cool, she knew Joe would not. He was convinced that every boy that even as much as looked in her direction was planning on jumping her, and as a result, she was nearly seventeen and had never even been kissed. She loved him; in fact since he’d got back from Vegas they had been closer than ever, but he really was a pain in her ass sometimes.

  She walked into the kitchen and kissed her aunt. “Hey. Where’s Joe?”

  “He and Samson are in the den. Why don’t you go and tell them that lunch is ready?”

  Whenever Joe was home, Beth tried as much as possible to ensure that they all sat down and ate together. It was a way for them all to come together as a family. Often, of course, other stuff got in the way. Her work, Amy’s friends, the club. But they got together as often as they could. She smiled as Samson joined them. Any of Joe’s brothers were always welcome at her table, and he was one of her favorites. As a rule, she was wary around the nomads, but Samson was the exception. He was always polite and respectful around her and Amy, and she was comfortable in his company. Amy too, enjoyed having him around and was looking forward to evenings thrashing him on the Playstation, when he was feeling better. Beth smiled as her niece took her place between the two men, completely unfazed by what they represented. “Hey Uncle Samson. You feeling better?”

  “Getting there, baby girl. I’ll soon be fit enough to whoop that skinny ass of yours.”

  “Never gonna happen.” She nudged him and passed him a plate of lasagne.

  “Thanks, baby girl. So how was work?” She had recently taken a Saturday job at the local gas station.

  “Good. Oh, two nomads came in today.”

  “Really? I didn’t know any were in town. Do you know who they were?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve seen them before. One of them was real short, walked with a limp.”

  “Sounds like Fox, so I’m guessing the other is Spider.” Be careful around them, baby girl. They’re good guys, but they ain't nice and polite like me.

  Amy rolled her eyes. She was constantly being warned about Joe’s brothers as well as every other male on the planet. “Oh, they weren’t interested in me. They spent all their time talking to the new girl.”

  “You got a new girl? Is she hot?”

  “Uncle Samson!”

  “Well is she?”

  “I don’t know. She’s okay I guess. She’s pretty old. Not as old as you an’ Joe, but…”

  “Hey. I ain't old, sugar.”

  “Oh you so are. That’s why you listen to such crappy music.”

  “I will have you know, I have great taste in music.”

  Samson grinned as he watched the exchange between Tiny and his kid. There could be no denying how much they loved each other, and he had to admit he was kind of envious of his brother’s little family.

  Amy glanced at his plate and frowned. “You should be eating.” She touched his face. “You don’t look too great, and you’re hot again.”

  “I’m okay, baby. Just not hungry is all.” He smiled and forced down another mouthful, before admitting defeat. “I am feeling pretty tired. Maybe I’ll go for a nap.”

  ~ oOo ~

  He’d been dozing fitfully for a couple of hours when Amy crept in holding a bowl of soup. “Beth made you some soup.” He sat up and she handed him the bowl and climbing onto the bed next to him, grabbed the remote control. “Thought I could watch TV with you. Joe and Beth are making out on the sofa.” She shuddered. “It’s disgusting.”

  He chuckled and started to eat his soup. “Yeah, must be awful for you. I’m surprised you ain't scarred for life. So what’s it to be? Cops or NASCAR?”

  “NASCAR.” She settled with her back against the headboard.

  “So did that douche ask you out yet?”

  “Samson! He is not a douche, and yes. He wants me to go bowling with him. You won't tell Joe, will you?”

  “You want me to lie to my brother?”

  “Yes, I do. You wouldn’t even know if you hadn’t been listening to my private phone calls.”

  “I wasn’t listening, I overheard. You should be more discreet.”

  “I thought you were asleep. Please, Samson. Don’t say anything to Joe.”

  “I’m not going to say anything, because you are.”

  “I can’t. He’ll flip.”

  “No he won't. He loves you and he wants to keep you safe. But he also wants you to be happy, so he’ll be cool.” He laughed. “Eventually.”

  ~ oOo ~

  Beth frowned as she pulled off the dressing that covered the wound on Samson’s thigh. “You really have to see a doctor. This is getting worse, I don’t think the antibiotics are working.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “No you won't. I’m not an expert. But I do know that you shouldn’t still be running a temperature and this should be healing. There must be a doctor that won't ask too many questions that you can see.”

  Samson leaned back and closed his eyes as she redressed the wound. “Okay, if it makes you happy, I’ll see a fucking doctor. But if he gets suspicious and calls the pigs, I’m blaming you.”

  Beth straightened up and kissed him on his forehead, her frown deepening at how hot he was. “Actually, I think maybe I should take you to the hospital now. You’re burning up.”

  He opened his eyes. “Beth, I have a gunshot wound. If I go to the hospital, they’ll report it.”

  “So say it was an accident. You were cleaning your gun and didn’t know it was loaded, I don’t know, say anything. Shit, Samson, you could end up with gangrene.”

  “I think you’re being a bit melodramatic, darling. It’s just a little infection.”

  “So why are you shivering?”

  “I ain't shivering.”

  “Sure you’re not.” She pulled a throw from the back of the sofa, and wrapped it around his shoulders. “As soon as Joe gets back, we’re going to ER.”

  If he’d had the energy he would have argued with her. But all he wanted to do was sleep. His leg was on fire and it was getting hard to focus on anything for any length of time without his mind wandering. He felt Beth start to move away and he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Stay. Please.”

  Without a word, she sat back and leaned her head on his shoulder until she was sure he was asleep, then carefully, so as not to disturb him, she stood and walked quietly into the kitchen and picked up her cell. “Joe?”

  “S’up. Darling?”

  “I’m going to have to take Samson to the hospital. I really don’t like the look of his leg. And he’s burning up.”

  “Shit. I thought he was pretty bad last night, but he insisted he was feeling better. Okay. I’ll come with you. I’ll be home in ten.”

  Ten minutes became thirty and Beth was start
ing to panic. She was finding it difficult to rouse Samson, and when she did, he was delirious and incoherent. There was no way she was going to be able to get him to the car on her own, and she was about to call an ambulance when Joe rushed in. “Sorry, darling. Fucking road was closed.” He looked over to where his brother was sleeping. “Fuck. He looks terrible. Samson. Hey, c’mon, brother, wake up.”

  As soon as Samson opened his eyes Joe hauled him to his feet. “Think we better get you checked out. You look like shit.”

  . “Where we going? We going on a run, bro?”

  “Yeah. We’re going on a run.” Joe staggered under his weight. “All the way to ER.”

  “Is Beth coming? I like Beth, she’s a good girl.”

  “Yeah, Beth’s coming.”

  “S’good, I like Beth. I wan’ her to come. Where we goin’?”

  ~ oOo ~

  Joe sat on the hard plastic chair and, with his legs stretched out in front of him, closed his eyes. Beth stopped her pacing and scowled at him. “How can you be so calm, aren’t you worried?”

  “I’m worried. I just ain't pacing.”

  “I knew I should have insisted he came in the other day. Shit, Joe. What if we’ve left it too long?” She sat on the chair next to him. “Why are they taking so long?”

  “Beth. Stop beating yourself up. They’ll fix him.”

  The door opened and a nurse walked in. “Are you here with Mr. Samson?”

  “Yeah.” Joe straightened up. “Can we see him?”

  “Yes, of course. Follow me.” She led them down the corridor and into a small room. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

  Neither spoke as they sat and waited. Beth touched Samson’s hand, but he didn’t stir. Joe watched his old lady as he held his brother’s hand, concern etched over her face. He knew how fond she was of him and that she blamed herself for not insisting he come in sooner.