by Krane, Kasey
Suddenly, it struck me - the police! Of course. I’d go to the police station tomorrow and start asking questions there. Maybe they could help her, or at least guide her in the right direction. Surely they kept tabs on all of the local groups and crime bosses. They had to know something was up.
Finally, with a hint of an idea in place, I could drift off to sleep. Tomorrow, come hell or high water, she’d find out what the fuck Bishop and the Dead Legion were up to.
34
Jules
I stepped inside of the squat, shoebox-style brick building, and into the cool AC air. I took a deep breath. God, that was nice.
I headed towards the counter where a uniformed officer stood, shuffling papers, looking pissed. Or frustrated. Or something. I was hoping against hope that this frustration wouldn’t rub off onto our conversation. I needed the officer to be helpful and friendly, not pissy and surly.
“Hi,” I said brightly as I stepped up to the counter. “I’m a journalist and I’m doing a story on the Dead Legion.” I decided impulsively to leave “New York” out of the discussion. People in New Mexico didn’t seem to take too kindly to New Yorkers poking around in their business. Not, of course, that my accent wouldn’t give me away.
“Um-hmmm…” the office said, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. A second police officer glanced at me as he walked through, and then continued on to the back.
Friendly little bunch.
“Well, I’d like to know if you have noticed a link between the Dead Legion and the death rate around here. I mean, do you think that the Dead Legion are responsible for the outsized numbers of deaths that Deming has experienced over the last two years? The spike in gun-related shootings has been pretty dramatic.”
Fuck! How is it that the people in the movies always fucking know what to say and do? I’m Amateur Hour over here, and it’s painfully obvious even to me!
“Listen, lady,” he drawled, finally looking up from his sorting project, “I don’t have time to worry about the Dead Legion. Didn’t you hear it on the news? A whole bus full of Mexican girls were kidnapped last night on the way to a week-long camp up in the mountains. It was just over the border, and an APB has gone out to all local units because the chances are high that the kidnappers made a run for the border overnight. The last thing I have time to worry about right now is a group of bike lovers.”
I took a step backwards.
Shit, shit, and double shit.
I replayed it in my mind. I’d been drunk at the time, but not that drunk…
“Ghost had some things come up this week.”
“What kind of things?” I persisted. Bishop shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Club business. It was supposed to happen in a couple of weeks but it got moved up, so he’s been concentrating on making it happen quickly.”
And then, my research into the Sangre…They had been charged with abducting and selling young girls into the sex trade.
Young, Mexican, school girls.
They’d gotten off on a technicality. The gang leaders were free to do it again.
With hands shaking, I pulled out my iPhone from my purse and did a quick search. I pulled up a news article with blaring headlines - 30 Catholic girls had been kidnapped, all 8 - 10 years old. The same age as the previous Sangre kidnapping victims.
And there it was, in black and white.
“The field trip had originally been scheduled for next Monday but had been moved up to today because of scheduling conflicts with the church campground they were heading to. Some bereaved parents are saying that maybe if the school had stuck to their original schedule, their daughters would be safe. It’s hard to know until—”
Except, it wasn’t. I knew. The Sangre were always planning on kidnapping these girls. And they were always going to have the Dead Legion help them. I shoved my phone into my purse, thinking. Scrambling to put the pieces together.
What were they loading into the tractor-trailer last night? Crates of guns? Maybe the Sangre felt like they needed the extra—
“Aaaahhhh!!!” I yelped as a hand gripped my elbow in a vice grip.
“What the hell?!” I demanded as I looked up.
Right into Bishop’s very dark, very pissed chocolate brown eyes.
Fuck.
I turned back towards the police officers to beg for their help as Bishop began dragging me towards the door. The two police officers stood there, waving at me and smiling, looking for all the world like they were sending me off onto a grand adventure.
Traitors.
It was a total rookie move, trusting the police. Surely after binge watching Sons of Anarchy, I shoulda known that trusting the police was a dumbass move to make.
My newbie status was going to get me killed.
“Just tell me now - are you trying to get yourself killed? Because if you keep this up, I just might let you succeed! And,” he opened up the passenger side door of the truck and shoved me in, “what the fuck did you do to your hair??” He slammed the door closed and stalked around to the other side, leaving me opening and closing my mouth like a beached fish.
Well, at least he opened up the truck door for me this time.
Which made me smile.
Which made Bishop even more angry. “This ain’t funny, Jules! Ghost doesn’t take kindly to people causing him problems, especially not journalists from New York!”
Bishop started the truck and turned the AC on full blast, just as my phone began to ring. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as I scrambled to pull it out of my purse. Glancing at the screen, I realized it was Evan. Fuck it. Whatever he had to say, he could wait his turn. I hit the button at the top of the phone to silence it and shoved it back in my purse.
It was time to lay aside my anger at Bishop. I had to lay it all out there; I had to convince Bishop to listen to me. The Dead Legion could not help the Sangre with their evil plan. They had to save those little girls.
35
Bishop
Seeing Jules again was painful. I’d spent the last 24 hours telling myself that I had to get over her. That I wasn’t going to fucking see her again, and that this was for the best. That she’d be safe in New York, and wasn’t that all that mattered?
And then here she was again, stirring up shit, causing problems, and I didn’t know if I wanted to strangle her or fuck her.
And what the bloody fucking hell had she done to her gorgeous hair?? Short and red - way too modern and…New Yorker.
And her face…I couldn’t tear my eyes away. She looked…different than usual. I wasn’t exactly a fashion guy, but even I could tell she’d done something different. It matched her hair. I didn’t like it one bit.
And her clothing choices! She looked like she’d shopped in the Bag Lady section at Wal-Mart. Where were her sexy shorts and tank tops and cute flip-flops that showed off her pink toenails? Black, shapeless, baggy shit. This wasn’t my Jules.
I snapped back to reality. She’d been talking, and I’d been, well, I didn’t want to think about what I’d been thinking about. What kind of pussy had I turned into, thinking about pink toenails for God’s sake?
“Start again!” I barked.
I wasn’t going to apologize for my lack of attention to her words. If she’d just not…totally changed like a fucking chameleon on me, I wouldn’t have been distracted. So really, this was all her fault.
Except, if she looked like she normally did, you’d be distracted by her anyway.
I ignored this thought.
Jules let out an exacerbated sigh and started again.
“The Dead Legion are selling guns to the Sangre, right?”
I stayed stone silent. She may be too goddamn fucking smart for her own good, but I wasn’t going to actually validate her information. She plowed on, ignoring my silence.
“The Sangre made a huge hit last night - kidnapped 30 young Catholic schoolgirls in Mexico who were on the way to church camp. I think they need these guns t
o make this child sex trafficking deal go down. They kidnapped these girls, all poor, from a small community just on the other side of the border, and are going to sell them to rich, twisted, sons-of-bitches here in the US. I don’t specifically know what they need these guns for that you’re selling them, other than maybe to guard the girls while waiting to sell them on the black market?”
“Hold on!” I protested before I could think it through. Before I could stop myself from giving everything away. “Ghost told us that the Sangre needed these guns to protect their turf. He didn’t say a goddamn thing about girls and child sex trafficking. Ghost wouldn’t get our club into that kind of shit. No fucking way.” I shook my head, my protests growing weaker as my knee-jerk reaction faded, and reality set in.
Actually, this was exactly the kind of thing Ghost would get us into. And he wouldn’t tell me because he’d know I would never let it happen.
And I had just told Jules that she was right.
Goddamn motherfucking son-of-a-bitch.
But before I could figure out how to backpedal, or if that was even possible, Jules was shoving her phone into my hands. “Read it,” she demanded and then crossed her arms, waiting none-too-patiently for me to do as she asked. I wouldn’t put up with that kind of attitude from anyone else except for Ghost…and now apparently Jules.
With a sigh, I stopped the truck and flicked my eyes down to the article and started scanning through. And then slowed. And then stopped and went back up to the top and read it carefully.
And it all made sense.
Oh Jesus Christ motherfucking goddamn son-of-a-bitch…
I slammed my truck into reverse, tossing the phone at Jules as I tore down the street. “Where are you staying?” I barked.
“At the Travel Inn,” she said, grabbing onto the door as I swerved around the corner, horns blaring. I ignored the middle finger salute being given to me by passing drivers - they could go fuck themselves. I had more important shit to deal with.
“Goddamn it, that motel owner’s a slime ball. Can’t trust him. There’s a motel right up the street from my place with a better guy in charge. I’m gonna drop you off and we’ll go get the rest of your shit when I get back.” We squealed into the parking lot and we slammed against our seat belts when I slammed on the breaks. I threw the truck into park but left the engine running.
I hopped out and ran into the office of the Cactus Motel, not checking to make sure Jules was keeping up. I could use good manners later, when my club wasn’t about to get implicated in a child sex trafficking ring.
“I need two rooms with an adjoining door. You got that available?” I demanded from the teenage clerk behind the counter.
“Ummm…yes, sir!” the pimply teenager said, jumping up from his stool and putting down his comic book.
I pulled out my wallet and yanked out cash. “Good. And here’s a $50 if you’ll keep your big mouth shut about us being here. Someone asks, you know nothing. Got it?” I dangled the bill in front of the kid’s eyes, knowing that it was probably the first time the kid had ever even seen a $50 bill in real life.
“Yes sir!!” the teen said enthusiastically.
I pulled out a couple of hundreds and paid for the rooms in cash. “Any word at all that gets out, and I’ll be sure to come back and pay you a visit.”
The teen swallowed and stumbled over his words, “No way! I would never!” I tossed the $50 at him and taking Jules by the arm, forced her out of the office and down to the end of the row of motel rooms.
“Why two rooms?” she panted as he pulled her along.
“Maybe other Dead Legion will be spending the night. I don’t look forward to sharing you with them.”
And then, in the middle of everything going down, I remembered those awful words I’d shouted at her.
I would apologize to her later. If we managed to live through this.
I unlocked the door and shoved her inside. “Under no circumstances will you leave this room. Or unlock the door. For once in your goddamn life, you’re gonna stay where you’re put. Got it?”
She nodded, clearly worried.
“I’ll be back. Stay put!” and then slammed the door behind me. I didn’t walk away until I heard the deadbolt slide into place.
36
Bishop
We met up in the chapel; I slammed the door behind me. “Is it true?” I demanded, rounding the corner, coming face-to-face with Ghost. “Are we selling guns to the Sangre so they can fucking sell little girls to the highest bidder?!”
Ghost’s eyes flicked away and back again, and then he shrugged nonchalantly. “Who cares?” he asked dismissively. “We’re not the cops of the world. If they’re doing shit they ain’t supposed to be, they’ll get caught. Not our business. We just sell ‘em the guns.”
“You’re fucking with me right now!” I yelled. I felt my face grow red with anger, and I balled my fists by my side. What I wouldn’t give for one solid punch in Ghost’s smirking face. “How can this not be our business? When the Sangre get caught and get questioned by the cops, the first thing they’ll do is finger us in return for a plea deal. You motherfucking goddamn son-of-a-bitch, the Sangre aren’t going to nicely take the fall and swing in the wind, protecting our asses. They’re gonna tie a noose around our necks themselves!”
“What the fuck have you been doing behind our backs?” Ghost shot back. “You had one job yesterday. One single, stupidly easy job - get a blonde bitch on a plane. And yet, you failed. The cops gave me a call and told me that some journalist was asking questions I probably wouldn’t like. And I took one guess to figure out who it was. You aren’t the only one with contacts at the police station.”
I glanced down for a moment, and I felt my cheeks color a brighter red. I’d hid information from my president, and as much as I was beginning to doubt that Ghost should hold that title, I couldn’t single-handedly depose the man. Until the club voted, Ghost was the man in charge.
And I had lied, by omission, to him, to protect a chick.
So I pulled a Ghost - I switched topics when I didn’t like where the current one was going.
“I think,” I said quietly, deadly, staring into Ghosts’s eyes, unblinking, “that a part of me has wanted to stay innocent. A part of me didn’t want to know the truth of what you were getting us into. I didn’t ask questions and I didn’t push back when you proposed this Sangre deal. But that ends here and now. I will not stand idly by while you drag our club into this fucking mess.”
Ghost gave a sharp laugh of disbelief. “Really? You think that now that you’ve grown a pair of balls, we’re all gonna roll over and play dead? Well fuck a lotta that. This deal with the Sangre goes down tonight, and you’re going to get rid of her. If we don’t follow through with our agreement with the Sangre, we’re as good as dead. You don’t fuck around with them. I am your President and you will do what I fucking ask.”
“What are you fucking asking me to do,” I ground out.
“Jules has to die, and you’re gonna kill her. This is how you’re going to prove your loyalty to your MC. This is how you’re going to show the world that you know where your priorities lie. You’re gonna kill her, and you’re gonna make it look like an accident.”
Looking into Ghost’s ice-cold eyes, I knew whatever good had been in Ghost when we were kids, was gone now. The power, the money - it’d all gone to Ghost’s head. He was no longer my childhood friend.
Ghost had to die.
And I had to be the one who killed him.
“Fine,” I said softly. “I’ll take her out on a bike ride out into the desert, and I’ll kill her out there. By time the authorities find her body, the bones will be picked so clean, no one will have a fucking clue what happened to her. It won’t be traced back to the Dead Legion.”
“Good,” Ghost said approvingly. “I knew you’d see reason.”
I walked out. The next time I saw Ghost, one of us was going to die.
* * *
“Judge,” I s
aid out in my truck, the doors closed, the windows rolled up. Even so, I kept my voice low. “We have to pull the trigger. We have to get rid of Ghost. He’s gone off the deep end. I’ll tell you more about it later, but right now, I need you to call the other guys. Everyone needs to meet at the Cactus Motel. I’ll fill everyone in at the same time.”
“Got it,” Judge said. “The guys have all been out searching for Jules. Did you find her?”
“Yeah. It’s…a long story. Tell ‘em to all head to the motel.”
“Yes sir,” Judge said, and hung up.
I pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards my house. I needed to drop my truck off there and hide my Harley out of sight. Ghost had to believe that his veep was obediently following orders, until I could figure out what to do.
37
Bishop
“Bishop.” The voice on the phone was too quiet in the ruckus atmosphere of the motel room. I walked into the other one through the adjoining door and shut the door behind me. I saw Jules peek into the room from the bathroom, saw it was me, waved, and went back into the bathroom. I smiled to myself. It was going to take a long fucking time for me to get used to her short hair but whatever. Having her here with red hair was better than losing her forever.
“Sorry,” I said, plugging my other ear to try to further drown out the members next door. “It’s a little loud in here. Who did you say this was?”
“Tats,” he said, a little louder this time.