“I hope he is, too,” I replied.
We embraced, waiting for the news to continue. When it did, we listened to the revelation in each other’s arms.
After thirty years of service to San Diego County, Detective Ted Gottschalk planned to retire. That was three years ago.
Something told him to wait.
He’d been chasing a group of thieves for much of his career. Frustrated, but not willing to give up, Gottschalk continued his quest to find these criminals for nearly one hundred and eighty exhausting months. The case became personal. Year after year, the detective got no closer to arresting the slippery thieves.
According to information gathered in an exclusive interview with Detective Gottschalk, many cases are solved on nothing more than a hunch. This morning, Gottschalk’s instinct pointed him to an outlaw motorcycle club. Acting on a gut feeling, Gottschalk interviewed an unnamed witness. Based on the testimony of that witness, the detective had the evidence he needed to obtain a search warrant.
When San Diego County’s SWAT Team converged on the clubhouse of the notorious outlaw motorcycle club “Satan’s Savages” to serve the warrants, officers were met by gunfire.
San Diego County Detective Marc Watson, who was assisting with the arrest, was shot prior to the team entering the building. Detective Gottschalk returned fire, killing the suspect in question.
Agents of the joint task force then entered the building, and were met with more gunfire, some of which was from illegal machineguns.
With the aid of ATF, the SWAT team searched the building through a hail of gunfire. When the search was over and the shooting was done, all eleven remaining members of the nearly defunct Satan’s Savages were killed. One detective, the previously mentioned Detective Watson, was wounded.
Over thirteen pounds of methamphetamines, forty-one weapons—one of which was suspected to have been used in the killing of two Ramona police officers, and sixty-three-thousand-dollars in cash were seized in the deadly raid.
Detective Watson is expected to make a full recovery. The full story on this breaking news, our interview with Gottschalk, and much more at six o’ clock.
I squeezed Reggie’s shoulder. “Your dad’s my hero.”
She wiped the corners of her eyes with the tip of her finger. “He’s mine, too.” Staring blankly at the television, her bottom lip quivered. “He said one of these days he’d catch those guys. He did. It’s finally over.”
“Yes,” I said. “It sure is.”
249
Reggie
I burst through the front door and rushed inside. “You asshole!” I shouted. “I can’t believe you—”
In the kitchen prepping food, my father stepped into the doorway. “Asshole?” He smirked. “Really, Reg?”
“You didn’t call to say you were alright,” I complained. “You didn’t call to say—”
“That shit you saw on the news happened late this morning.” He turned away like it was no big deal. “We didn’t want to make the announcement until we got a ballistics report back on one of the weapons. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“A surprise?!” I stepped into the kitchen. “A surprise? That you were in a deadly shootout? An officer got shot, daddy.”
“Tito’s buddy?” He chuckled. “He’s got two broken ribs and a fractured ego. He’ll be fine.” He glanced at Tito, who was now standing at my side. “You look a hell of a lot better than last time I saw you, Son. Feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you,” Tito replied.
My father placed three large steaks on a plate. “I thought you might be over after the news. Follow me.” He reached for a clean platter and nodded toward the back door. “I’ll get these on the grille.”
My entire body went rigid. “You bought.” I swallowed against my tightening throat. “You bought a grille?”
“I’ve been busy this evening. Bought some patio furniture, too. Tough for a family to have a sit-down meal outside without a patio set.” He stepped through the back door and paused. He faced me and smiled. “Something wrong, Reg?”
We were a family again. I swallowed twenty years of sorrow. I glanced at Tito. The look of indifference he’d been harboring for the past two weeks was gone. He smiled and gestured toward the door.
“Not at all,” I said, fighting back tears. “Everything’s fine.”
I walked outside. The sweet smell of honeysuckle brought a flood of memories with it. I hesitated and inhaled a slow breath. Memories of my childhood tickled my senses. The smell of the flowers. The sounds of the birds. Filled with emotion, I glanced around the back yard.
The orange tree my father and I planted as a centerpiece now bore fruit. On the left, cushioned patio furniture was positioned around a large coffee table. Beside it, a new fire pit. At the other side of the deck, a dinner table with seating for eight. My heart swelled at the thought of once again eating together as a family.
My father tossed the steaks on the grille and then faced us. “What do you think?”
I fought to contain myself. I didn’t want him to know how much I’d missed it over the years. I scanned the area. “I love it.”
“Thought we could invite Raymond and Melanie over for dinner sometime.” He glanced at Tito. “You’ll have to bring your friends for dinner, too.”
“I suppose I will,” Tito said with a smile. “They’ll be eager to meet you. Satan’s Savages were a thorn in the side of many SoCal clubs. The fellas might want to thank you.”’
My father turned toward the grille. “How’s club business, by the way?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. My father’s mere acknowledgement of Tito’s motorcycle club was so far beyond what I would have ever expected from him. His all but inviting the men to dinner?
I was flabbergasted.
“The club disbanded.” Tito took a seat in one of the new chairs. “We dissolved it, completely.”
Tito had yet to share the news with me. His odd demeanor now made sense. As much as I hated to see him in his recent state of depression, I knew the club wasn’t a good place for him.
My father flipped the steaks and turned around. “You’ll remain friends, won’t you?”
“We will,” Tito replied. “Just like we were when we were kids.”
“What did you guys do for entertainment when you were kids? You all grew up in Montana, right?”
“Fishing,” Tito said with a prideful smile. “We liked to go fishing.”
“Speaking of fishing, the fellas at work started a GoFundMe to raise money for my fishing boat.” He let out a laugh. “I said maybe they’d raise enough to buy me some bait.”
I realized the only father I’d ever known was a devoted detective that worked his ass off day and night because he wanted the city to be a safe place for me to grow up. The money he earned fed me, clothed me, and put me through school.
He deserved to spend his retirement years fishing off the Pacific coast. It was his dream, but I doubted it would ever materialize. Growing up, his salary was barely enough to keep us alive. The little money he saved would buy several fishing excursions, but it certainly wouldn’t buy a vessel.
I couldn’t remember the last time I cried, but I was about to. I sat down in the chair beside Tito. “That was nice of them.”
“I thought so, too.” He placed the steaks on the clean platter. “Mind helping me get everything else out here, Tito?”
Tito stood. “Not at all.”
“I’ll help,” I said.
My father grinned. “Tito and I will get it. Just relax.” He gazed at the cloudless evening sky. “Enjoy the view.”
The essence of honeysuckle wafted by. I closed my eyes and dreamed of a future with a father who was safe from harm. A life without a motorcycle club crushing my lover’s spirit every time they held a late-night meeting.
When the men returned, I was in such a state of relaxation that I was nearly asleep. I opened my eyes to a plate filled with steak, salad, a tortellini salad, an
d garlic bread.
I rubbed my eyes. “That took a while.”
“We were discussing guy stuff,” my father said. “We got carried away.”
In four years, my father didn’t say three words to Jared. Having him discuss guy stuff with Tito brought a joy to my heart that was undeniably welcomed.
Tito took a seat on my left. My father sat at my right.
“Let’s say a prayer,” my father said, reaching for each of our hands.
We bowed our heads.
“Heavenly father, we gather before you today as a family. We ask that you be so gracious to bless this food we are about to eat. We further ask that you provide those who are gathered here and those who can’t be present with your protection. Lastly, we ask that you provide us with the guidance to make the right decisions today, tomorrow, and as far in the future as you allow us to grace this earth. We ask all these things in your name. Amen.”
I squeezed the hands of the two men who mattered most to me and opened my eyes. “Amen.”
250
Tito
Gathered in the Devil’s Disciples clubhouse for what would likely be our last meeting, we discussed Reggie’s father and the development of our newfound fate. The night’s nourishment was a few pizzas and a case of sparkling water.
Cash folded a piece of pizza in half, lifted it to his mouth, and paused. “If you’ll stop talking, I’ll answer you.”
“I’m done talking,” Goose said. “Quit stuffing your face and answer me.”
“I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize, and it said, meet me at the 5th Ave 7-Eleven at six am.” Cash ate half the slice of pizza in one bite. After swallowing it, he continued. “I sent a text back that said, who the fuck is this?” He finished the slice of pizza, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and reached for another slice. “Boom. This text comes back, and it says, this is Detective Gottschalk. I fire another one back that says, how the fuck did you get my number?” He folded the slice in half and raised it to his mouth. “Fucker shoots me a text back and says, watch your tone with me, asshole, or you’ll be serving life in prison. I knew because it said, “or” you’ll be serving life in prison that he wanted to discuss options.”
“So, you went?” Goose asked.
Cash looked at him like he was crazy. “Fuck yeah, I did. He waited right up until the day the axe was supposed to fall. Let me stew in the thought that I was a cooked goose. Just to teach me a lesson. So, we met, and he tells me everything. He knew about the good stuff we did. Like killing the cartel boss, getting rid of that piece of shit dope dealer neighbor we used to have, Preston, and the dope guy up north that we robbed. He knew the bad stuff, too. The job in Indio, the job up by Torrey Pines, the one in Ramona. Fucker knew where we grew up, my grades in school, even my mom’s name. Kind of freaked me the fuck out.”
“He met with Watson more than once,” I offered. “He told me that last night. He said Watson was instrumental in letting him make the decision to let you—and us—go. Watson convinced him we were doing more good than harm.”
“Watson ain’t the only one he met with,” Cash said. “Crazy prick drove up to Crip’s place. Parked his car right in the Filthy Fucker’s clubhouse. Told Crip he had two options. One, get Peyton to give written testimony about the Savages raping her, or he’d prosecute him and Pee Bee for killing that guy a couple of years back. Peyton signed the statement that let ‘em get the search warrant for the Savage’s club house.”
“So, what did he say when you met at 7-Eleven?” Goose asked. “You never said.”
“Well, he made me promise not to mention anything to you guys until after the news aired. I was supposed to act like I was still under agreement with him to turn myself in. And, he made me promise not to so much as jaywalk for the rest of my life. Said if I did, he’d make sure I spent a considerable amount of time behind bars. Also said that as far as he was concerned, we weren’t bad people, we just made a bad decision. He said the Savages were a group of low-life fucktards. Told me he knew about them raping women and cooking meth for years, but he needed Peyton’s testimony to arrest them.”
“How’d he find out about Peyton?” Reno asked. “About them raping her?”
“Crip told Watson and Watson told Gottschalk,” Cash replied.
“SoCal’s a small place,” Reno said, shaking his head. “Hard to believe Crip’s Ol’ Lady ends up getting connected to Gottschalk.”
“Six degrees of separation,” I said. “Anyone can be tied to anyone else on the planet through no more than five intermediaries.”
Baker chuckled. “How about one intermediary?”
“Speaking of one intermediary, listen to this,” I said. “I almost forgot. Gottschalk knew my neighbor’s son, Braxton. Ends up Braxton helps the cops out all the time. He does the shit that they’d be prosecuted for doing. He plants evidence, steals surveillance tapes, moves dead bodies, manipulates crime scenes. All kinds of shit. Gottschalk used him to plant the pistol and a few coins they recovered from the explosion. On the morning of the arrest, Braxton snuck in the clubhouse and planted that stuff on the Savages. I was blown away when Gottschalk told me about Braxton. I’m surprised he walks on both sides of the sidewalk.”
“What do you mean?” Reno asked. “Both sides of the sidewalk?”
“He helps criminals and helps cops. Both sides of the law. He’s like a whore.” I laughed. “Whoever pays him gets to utilize his services.”
Goose coughed out a laugh. “I bet that fucker has some stories to tell.”
I raised my brows in wonder of all that Braxton may have been exposed to in his day-to-day activities. “I bet you’re right.”
“I’m glad this shit is over,” Cash said. “What a fucking relief.”
“I can’t believe we’ve reached the end,” Baker said. He glanced around the clubhouse. “It’s sad to think about but I need to sell this building. We’ll get a new start in a new place. As friends.”
“I’m all for a new start as friends,” Ally said. “I’m not doing so much as getting a speeding ticket from here on out. This scared the shit out of me.”
“You’re not the only one,” I admitted. “I haven’t slept for a month.”
Reno grabbed a piece of pizza and glanced around the clubhouse. “You’re selling this place?”
“Too many memories here,” Baker replied.
“Some good, some bad,” Goose said. “I was sitting right here when I found out Ghost died.”
I had only good memories of my times in the clubhouse. The countless meals Goose prepared, the numerous late-night parties, and sleeping there for five weeks—on the couch—while my home was being remodeled.
“I’ve got good memories of this place,” I admitted.
“Me, too,” Cash said. “Was just thinking about the time Ghost fired up Eleanor for the first time and I pissed myself a little. Tried saying it was from washing my hands, but nobody believed me.”
“Nobody believed you because it was bullshit,” Reno said with a laugh. “You had a piss spot right where the tip of your dick hangs. It was pretty fucking obvious.”
Goose laughed like he’d heard a great joke. “It sure was.”
Baker raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got fond memories of this place, too. But. I don’t want anyone to be able to say we’re a motorcycle club. Hell, we’ve never really been one, anyway. Just a bunch of friends who like riding.”
“Keeping the carwashes?” Reno asked.
“Yeah,” Baker said. “We need to keep our jobs. They’ll be legit from here on out, though. No more laundering money through them.”
“Listen to this.” I chuckled. “When Reggie’s dad found out I worked at a car wash, he said they were nothing more than a place to launder money. I about had a heart attack.”
“He’s no dummy, that’s for sure,” Cash said. “He asked me about bustin’ your jaw. Said, what kind of friend does shit like that? I told him a hot-headed one. He said I needed to keep myself in ch
eck.”
“So…” Goose said, lifting his chin slightly, “Is that your plan? To keep yourself in check?”
Cash nodded. “I’m going to toe the line from here on out.”
“Through all of this, I think I had a spiritual awakening,” Baker admitted. “I felt like I needed to come clean on everything.”
“Everything?” I asked. “What did that include?”
He forced a sigh. “I told Andy that we were the club that robbed her bank.”
“Holy shit,” Goose gasped. “How’d that go?”
“Better than I expected,” Baker responded. “She took it in stride.”
“You’re not on the outs?” Goose asked.
Baker shook his head. “Not at all. We decided meeting one another for the second time was nothing less than fate. Truthfully, I think it made the bond between us stronger.”
“I’m glad you came clean,” Goose said. “I’ve been worried about that.” He glanced at each of us. “I say we have a celebration. Embrace the fact that this is over, and that no one is going to prison.”
“Here?” Baker asked, looking around.
Goose shook his head. “We can hold onto our memories, but we need to let this place go. I say we have it at my house.”
“Just us?” Cash asked.
“Us and our Ol’ Ladies,” Goose replied, alternating glances between us. “Hell, I say we invite the two cops that saved our asses. Might seem weird hanging out with a couple of cops, but if Tito’s Ol’ Lady’s got a cop for a dad we better get used to it.”
I didn’t know if Ted would agree to come, but I liked the idea of inviting him. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Invite both of ‘em,” Baker said. “Gottschalk and Watson.”
“What?” Cash gave Baker a look. He glanced at each of us. “Cops coming to a party, and we’re not going to have a vote?”
“We’re just a bunch of friends having fun,” Baker replied. “There’s no longer anything to vote on.”
Devil's Disciples MC Series- The Complete Boxed Set Page 132