by A. R. Case
“But when Jonathan gets here…” She trailed off trying to express what she was thinking and failing.
“He’ll be glad I stayed to make sure his mom was safe. Think about it for a minute, will you? He can’t be here, so who would he want here?”
Tony could see that work through her head. “You’re just staying here to keep me safe?”
“Scout’s honor.” He crossed his hand over his heart but fumbled when it came to actually making the hand sign. He’d never been a boy scout.
Her eyebrow rose.
“I know, I never was a boy scout.” He made another sign, low and fist-like. “Got your BAC. That’s a promise.” The word sounded capitalized to Susan.
His eyes were pretty dark, and his face was serious. Susan could see the bad-ass biker leaking through. It was scary, but she wasn’t actually scared of him. “Is that something you learned when you were young?”
He hesitated, but nodded nevertheless. “Sit.” He motioned with his head to the couch. She complied, sliding over and patting the cushion beside her. “You, too. I don’t like looking up at you.” He was a tall man, who filled her small apartment when he stood.
Tony sat, stretching out his legs and crossing them at his ankles. He ran a hand through his hair. “My dad and uncle were one-percenters, you know that, right?”
She blinked at him. “I don’t even know what one-percenters means.”
His jaw twitched, and he nodded a little. Then he sighed. “It’s a term that came from some court case a long time ago. One percent of motorcycle gangs are actual criminals. The one-percenters actually are proud of the fact that they break the laws.” He shifted, getting a little more comfortable on the couch. “Dad was president of the local chapter when he died.” He looked at her, his expression just a little lost looking.
“He was shot, right?”
He’d told her that during dinner, but hadn’t elaborated.
“He was shot by a group of kids from a gang.”
“Gangs still a problem. We get them coming in to ACare all the time.”
Tony nodded, then his brows came down. “You treat them?”
“We treat everyone. It’s my job, remember?”
He frowned and readjusted, leaning forward. “Hadn’t thought about that.” His jaw was really tight.
“What?”
He seemed to come to a conclusion, and his expression cleared. “The problems go back a ways.” He shook his head and started over. “My brother and I were eighteen and sixteen. Dad and my uncle, Carlo, were one and two in power, respectively.” He sighed. “My brother was just beginning to pledge to the club and since we hung out together, or rather, I followed him everywhere, I wanted to pledge, too.
“Dad didn’t want that yet, mostly because I was too fuh...too young, but Tio said I’d just have to wait longer for my cut.” His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. “So Chris makes a trip for them, and I tag along on my provisionals.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“A trip?”
“Riding.”
Susan got quiet. “Just riding?”
He frowned. “It was a long time ago, okay?”
“My ex was a cop, you don’t get to be in a gang without doing things, so don’t try to fool me.”
“We weren’t boy scouts, and I can’t tell you all the crap, okay? But this, it’s mostly on record. If I got into all of it, not even Agent Mills would be able to find my, or your, body, got it?”
He got really quiet.
“You can’t talk about it.” She got it, a little at least. John didn’t talk about work either. Men. She repeated her thoughts out loud, too.
He made a small noise at the back of his throat. “Anyways, we’re stopped at this light and a bunch of kids wearing their colors are on the corner. A carload pull up beside us, and some of the guys on the corner jump in. But the driver and some of the guys in the back start giving us shit.”
He made a face. “Chris starts talking back to them. I’m just freaked out because we’re on business, and he’s talking smack to them. So I gun it through the light. Chris doesn’t follow, and the fuckers shoot him.”
“They just shot him?”
Tony shook his head. “I’m sure there was more to it, but yeah, they shot him.” He turned and looked at her. “What happened next is because we were doing what we were doing, I went back and pulled the bags off Chris’s bike and split.” He was frowning hard. “I had to leave my brother in the street because of my fucking dad.”
“He survived.”
Tony’s foot was tapping. “I could hear the sirens even before I got the bags off, so figured he was going to be helped.”
She started to reach out to him, but stopped herself. He looked so closed off.
The motion caught his eye and he stared at her for a long time.
Finally he spoke. “My dad and uncle went to visit Chris in the hospital. I didn’t.”
“He hates you because of that, doesn’t he?”
“He hates me because of a lot of things. But not because of that. The club made me lie low, put out word that I was out of town so I wouldn’t be at the scene that day. Chris didn’t talk and neither did anyone else. But dad and the guys went after the gang in a big way.” He shook his head. “It turned into a mess.”
“You said your uncle’s in jail.”
“For murder, yeah. Because of all that. He and my dad were going after them, and they retaliated by going after my family. Chris was in the hospital, and I was in fucking Jersey City.” He looked away. “They got to Gio, my little brother, outside his school.” He looked Susan in the eye, “He went to a special school because he was autistic and PDD, but they didn’t call it that then.” He took a deep breath. “That night, Carlo and Dad went out for revenge. They walked right into the 800 headquarters, and opened fire. Six kids went down with Dad. Carlo claimed self defense, but that’s kind of hard to defend when you walk into a place, and start blasting away. Temporary insanity, sure, self-defense…” He shook his head.
“After Gio died, Chris swore off the Brigands. He had months of rehab, and I came back because there were cops all over things. The ones that were left went down for beating up Gio, and causing his death so it was sort of over.”
“You didn’t stop running with the Brigands, did you?”
He looked at her but didn’t say anything.
“I’ve seen these kids come through. I see the adults that come to claim them, even if they’re not family. You don’t just walk away from that, I’ve seen that.”
“So you understand how I can be a Brigand, but not one-percent?” He watched her face.
She felt her emotions shift on her face, and hoped he understood. “Yes. I actually do understand. I wish I had family like that.”
He slid off the couch, and knelt at her feet. “Whatever happens between us, or not, you do now. You’re family.” He made the fist again.
Susan didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.
He stopped talking about it. Instead, he walked around the house with her, listening while she moved things back into place. Each time she found a new item out of place, he touched her. Whether it was a comforting squeeze to the shoulder, or rubbing her back, or just enveloping her in his arms and warmth, he’d do it. By four a.m. she’d been through the house twice, and he finally opened up again. They’d talked about a lot of non-consequential things, from descriptions of all his siblings and cousins, including memories of the mayhem they caused, to likes and dislikes of foods. It was comforting, and just what she needed to relax.
They ended the night just sitting together on the couch for a while. Her yawns got the best of her. He kissed her on the forehead, and sent her to her room to go to bed. She made certain he had a blanket and pillow from the stash she kept in her closet before turning in for the night.
She’d just gotten motivated to get some coffee going, and change from her pajamas. Tony was just coming out of the bathroom when Jonathan walked in the door, yawning.
It was almost funny to see him stop, mid-yawn, look at Tony, still in his dress clothes, but disheveled, then look at her in her jeans and sweatshirt, then back and forth again, but she didn’t laugh. Tony’s blanket and pillow were obvious on the couch, and even more so when Tony walked over there and folded the blanket up, making a stack of the two items. Her son saw that, and blinked.
“Have you had breakfast yet?”
Her son shook his head. “They offered to buy me Dunkin Donuts, but…”
“I’ll make pancakes.”
He looked at Tony. “What are you doing here? I mean, no big deal and stuff, just curious.”
Tony looked to her for help.
“Sit.” she said.
“What happened, Mom?”
Her son was too intelligent by half. “When I got home last night, the door was open.”
He stopped sitting down, and hopped up. “What the fuck!?”
“Language!”
“Hey!” Tony said at the same time.
“Sorry, what the fritz! ‘Kay?” He glared at Tony. “Was it the Asshole?”
“Jonathan!” She yelled, despite trying to keep it low key.
Tony stepped in. “Sit.” He pulled out a chair, and then before Jonathan sat down, sat at the kitchen table in another chair. “Let your mom talk, and watch your fuh … mouth.”
“You’re one to talk.” Jonathan shot back, but sat anyways.
She glared at Tony, who obviously was a bad influence on her son, but then again, he’d been getting worse with his language since he was ten, so she couldn’t blame it all on Tony. No, that was the “asshole’s” fault. She frowned. It would have been easy to blame him for things, but she’d tried, really tried to keep things between them adult so her son didn’t hate his father. “The door was open. And yes, we think it was your father. The police are checking.”
Jonathan scoffed. “Lot of good that will do.” He looked at Tony. “So you stayed?”
Tony nodded. “I stayed.”
“Good.” He turned his attention to his mom. “We moving?”
He was serious. Susan’s heart twisted. Her son wasn’t whining or angry, but sounded more like a man than ever. His voice didn’t even crack. In fact, it had taken on a lower register than ever. Her little man. “No. We’re not moving.” They weren’t going to run. Not now, not ever again. “This isn’t Ohio. He can’t pull the same things here.”
Tony nodded. “There’s a friend of mine too, an FBI agent who’s checking into it, so even if the locals aren’t able to do something, he will.”
Jonathan relaxed a bit. “And you’re here, right?”
Tony stretched out his legs under the table, and leaned back. “I’m here.” He crossed his arms behind his head, daring Susan to disagree.
“He’s got work and a life too.” She said to her son, not really disagreeing with Tony, but setting expectations. Tony glared at her, and she glared back. “You do. You have obligations with work, just like I do, but I appreciate the help. I’m not a fool who wants to do everything by themselves.”
She turned to Jonathan, “Which reminds me, can you check your room, and see if anything’s missing? I remember you taking the laptop, but want to know if you have your iPod.”
“My iPod?” He got up and scrambled into his room. Susan poured Tony a cup of coffee while Jonathan searched.
“Cream or sugar?”
He tried a sip and tried not to make a face. She knew then she’d gone too heavy on the grounds. Not everyone liked super-leaded, like she needed. “Cream, please.”
Jonathan came back in, and this time his voice cracked. “My iPod’s not there, Mom!”
She came to attention. “You didn’t have it with you?”
Jonathan was not even done shaking his head, when the phone rang.
“Just a minute.” She checked the caller ID before picking it up. It was an AC number. “Yes?”
“Sergeant Peterson, is this Susan Schreiber?”
“It is.”
“I’m calling about your report from last night.” She affirmed that, and he reiterated some of her statement from the night before. He continued, “ You said it may have been your ex-husband, correct?”
“That’s what I think happened. But my son did confirm his iPod is missing.”
Peterson made an affirmative noise. “We checked with your ex-husband’s division in Dayton this morning. He was on second shift last night. So it could not have been him.”
Her heart sank. It would have been so easy to blame her ex for all of this. Now there was some unknown person who had targeted them. It was a mixed feeling trying to sort through this. If it wasn’t him, who was it? Was it someone helping him? Was it one of Jonathan’s tormentors? Was it some gang banger angry at her for helping an enemy? Her shoulders slumped. Was it just random?
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
“We’ll be back in touch with you if we hear anything else, and update the report to indicate that the iPod was stolen. You can come down, and pick it up for your insurance, but depending on your deductible, it might not be worth reporting. It was probably a random incident that got interrupted. Make certain both the bottom and the top of the stairs locks are engaged from now on.”
The officers last night had told her the same thing. She couldn’t remember if she’d locked the bottom lock that was viewable from the street. Because their apartment stairs were enclosed, anyone who got in the bottom would have time to pick the lock at the top to break in without being seen. “I will.” She assured him. There were a few more bits of advice, which Susan tried to remember, but her heart wasn’t in it.
When she hung up the phone, she sighed.
Jonathan didn’t say a word. But he was watching her as he crossed the kitchen, retrieved a glass and pulled the orange juice from the fridge.
Tony came up behind her, and rubbed her back.
“It wasn’t John.” She told him and Jonathan.
Her son dropped the empty glass he was holding. It bounced once then shattered on the linoleum. His hand was shaking, and he was ghost-white. “It wasn’t?” He squeaked out.
She grabbed a broom and the dustpan. “He was at work.” She started to clean up the mess, but Tony’s reaction stopped her.
He’d crossed the kitchen to look at Jonathan. “When you found that body, did you find anything else?”
It was hard to watch her son pale further. He whispered, “I found a flash drive.”
Tony frowned, and pulled his cell phone out. “Damn. No charge. Can I use the phone?”
Susan motioned to it. “Who are you going to call?”
His jaw got hard. “Agent Mills.” He stared at Jonathan. “You look at the drive yet?”
“I don’t have it anymore.”
“What?” Tony had the phone in his hand, but had stopped dialing.
“It went missing a couple of days ago.” Jonathan glanced from his mom to Tony. “I had it in some rice, in my room, and it disappeared three days ago. But I thought I’d misplaced it.”
Tony looked like he was thinking hard. “Then last night, there’s a break in, and you lose your iPod. I’ve got a feeling it’s connected, but how, if they got the drive?” He put the phone to his ear again, but Jonathan stopped him.
“I copied the files onto the laptop.” He said. Then he looked at the backpack he’d dumped in the living room.
“So? How would they know that?”
Jonathan swallowed. “I think I know.” His face was green.
Tony dialed the number. He’d called it last night, so didn’t need his phone to remember the number. “Mills?” he paused, “We’ve got a problem.”
Chapter thirteen
“He’s in Manahawkin, it will be over an hour before he gets here.” Tony told Susan and Jonathan. He’d just hung up the phone telling Mills as little as possible. Halfway through the short conversation, his brain kicked in. Whoever had broken in, had been here twice. Once for the drive, and once again when they realized that the information had been copied. Which meant, unless they were stupid, the place was probably being watched. Or worse, it was being bugged. The latter meant they were sunk.
Tony stalked over to his coat. “Going to check outside. Stay inside.” He glared at Susan. “I mean it. Stay.” If they were being bugged, he’d see someone high-tail it off. He slammed outside at a half run. He scanned the street, slipping behind cover and moving fast. There was mayhem from an early service letting out at the church, and people arriving for the next service, but he spotted a nondescript white Toyota down the street with a driver. He moved toward it, keeping behind cars, but not really ducking because this wasn’t the kind of neighborhood that type of behavior would go unnoticed. He watched the traffic from the church pass the car to make certain it wasn’t part of it.
No one got into the car from the church’s foot traffic, and it really looked like the driver was watching Susan’s house, so he waited until the street traffic broke before he crossed the street to come up on it from the church side.
He’d just gotten to where he could get a good look at the license plate, when the driver spotted him and peeled off, almost sideswiping an old lady in her Caddy. Horns blared, and Tony jogged to try to get a longer look at the driver. There wasn’t much he could see except a ball-cap and sunglasses. It could have been just about anyone semi-Caucasian and male.
The old lady laid on her horn and then, not having been in an actual accident, tooled down the road. The cars around them sorted themselves out, and people went about their business just like any normal day.
Someone passing by Tony commented on stupid drivers. “Yeah, don’t watch where they’re going, huh?” He said back.