Forged Under Blue Fire: Indigo Knights Book VIII

by A. J. Downey

  “Hey, hey!” Skids lumbered up from his seat at the head of the table, Coco slipping out of his lap and my eyebrows went up. I wasn’t used to the women being up here, but this wasn’t exactly club business in the full sense of the words. Plus, the rest of the guys must have had their reasons.

  Skids gave Ellie a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to our tiny little slice of utopia, darlin’. How you holding up?” Skids asked.

  “I, um, could be better,” Ellie said with a nervous laugh.

  “Come on in and have a seat,” Youngblood said. Chrissy was standing up right behind him and gave Ellie a hug before she could move past her.

  “I know exactly what you are going through,” Chrissy said. “Me and Lil both.”

  “Hi.” Lil waved from across the table.

  “If you need anything, to scream, to cry, to kill a bottle of wine and commiserate, we’re here for you.”

  “Wow, um, thank you,” Ellie said with another nervous laugh.

  I smiled and nodded to Chrissy my thanks as I greeted Youngblood. Clasping hands and tapping shoulders.

  It took a while for everyone to greet each other and to get settled. More chairs had been brought up here and it was definitely crowded. A few of the girls just resorted to their old man’s lap, like Coco. We all made it work, though.

  “Whew, gol-lee! What. A. Day,” I said and Skids called down, “What ‘cha drinkin’?”

  “What do you want, babe?” I asked Ellie and she bit her lips together.

  “Do you know what a Golden Gimlet is?” she asked.

  “I rightly do, a German drink, right?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “Alright! Now you’re speakin’ my language,” Golden declared with a grin.

  “You shut up!” I thrust my chin at him and everyone laughed.

  “What’re you having?” Skids asked.

  “My usual.”

  He gave a nod and turned to Coco who bent down and gave him a quick kiss before heading out to the bar. I caught Elka blushing faintly and trying to hide it and smiled. It took me quite a bit of getting used to myself. They had something like a thirty-year age difference between ‘em and I let my failed relationship with Reggie color my opinion. I really showed my ass when it came to Coco and Skids getting together and getting it on, and looking back – I honestly had to admit to myself that it was probably that I was some kind of jealous. They were solid in some kind of way I had never had before.

  I looked over at Ellie who was trying to take it all in and thought to myself, Until now.

  “So, what’s the big plan?” Driller asked from across and down the table some.

  “Honestly, we’ve got no fucking idea,” I said with a big sigh. “I still don’t even know how this all happened,” I said rubbing a hand over my bald ass head, trying to alleviate the headache that was threatening to build.

  “I have some insight into that,” Yale said darkly from his seat. Aly was sitting next to him, her hand beneath the table and either gripping his thigh in a comforting massage or giving him a hand job. With them two, you never could tell, and I didn’t wanna know. Yale, Driller, and Narcos were the real freaks in the sack around the table. Yale, for the most part, kept it on the down low but we all knew he wasn’t quite right – controlling – but a real good dude and hyper-focused on consent and shit.

  I don’t know. It was way too complicated to me. I didn’t need all the extra bells and whistles surrounding sex. I just needed Ellie and me and whatever the moment called for and I didn’t share unlike Driller and Narcos. More power to those fuckers, anyhow. Everleigh was gorgeous.

  “Well spill it, Yale. What ‘cha waiting for? A Golden invitation?” Driller grinned from under a tangle of his brown hair and Yale scowled.

  “Shit, we doing puns now?” Golden complained.

  “Shut up!” the table chorused grinning and everyone fell out laughing.

  “You son of a bitch.” He wrinkled his nose at me from across the table and grinned and I held up my hands.

  “That was all them! Mm-mm, you ain’t pinnin’ that one on me.”

  I turned and winked at Ellie who was genuinely smiling at the comradery around the table. The first genuine smile I think I’d seen her make all day and some of the apprehension binding my heart, making it hard to beat, loosened up for me.

  Coco came back with our drinks as Yale started filling in the blanks.

  “For some unknown reason,” he said, and turned to Ellie, “and forgive me if any of this is difficult to hear. You tell me to stop and we’ll table it for now.”

  Ellie nodded, paling a bit, and said, “Okay,” softly.

  Coco handed her the drink she ordered, and she took a healthy mouthful, wincing as it went down.

  “For some unknown reason, the coroner originally assigned to the case wasn’t exactly truthful in his findings. He put down that Elka’s sister was indeed shot and that the bullet retrieved was consistent with the type of bullet fired from the initial aggressor’s handgun but that is where the filing stopped. The ballistics report went conveniently missing.”

  “Wait,” Youngblood held up a hand, “so was it the coroner trying to cover shit up or is this on forensics and the ballistic’s panel?”

  “We still aren’t sure. All we know is that upon mandatory review, the review panel noticed the shoddy or outright missing work and ran it themselves and everything has now blown up into a departmental corruption scandal and it looks like one big intentional coverup.”

  “I had no idea,” I said soberly, downing some of my Hennessy.

  “There was no way for you to know. It was out of your hands,” Yale said.

  “How the fuck you keep this shit from rolling downhill?” Narcos demanded.

  “That was more than a bit of pure dumb luck,” Yale said. “As most of you know, Oz knows everybody, but Internal Affairs Bureau, despite looking and looking hard might I add, couldn’t find a single connection between Oz personally and any of the people involved in trying to cover this up. Hence, why Oz is off the proverbial hook.”

  Ellie sagged in her seat and all eyes directed toward her.

  “Then why would they try to hide this?” she asked.

  “The ICPD has been taking a beating in the media over race relations lately,” Golden said with a sigh. “Maybe the thought of a black cop shooting an innocent white girl curled the toes of some top brass somewhere enough to make it want to go away.”

  “That’s precisely it,” Yale said. “The review team was going to let it slide but for a whistle-blower in their midst who went to IAB.”

  “Oh, what the fuck?” Driller scowled. Everyone turned some surprised expressions his way. “Not that I am on board with any fuckin’ coverups going down, don’t get me wrong,” he said holding up a hand. “Just if they’d just been straight to begin with this wouldn’t be going down and if they’d just fucking let it lie, there would be a lot less pain and anguish going around right now.”

  Yale nodded. “I agree, which is, of course, why I did some quiet digging on my own when it came to said whistle-blower.”

  “Aw, shit, here it comes,” Golden said.

  “He’s got some white nationalist undertones to several of his social media posts and some attachment to our old pals the Blue Templars.”

  “Oh, snap!” Backdraft said.

  “Okay, alright, alright, settle down!” Skids declared waving us down as fury blazed up in several of the cops’ eyes around the table.

  “We’re gettin’ way too far into club business and into what is far from polite conversation to be having in front of the ladies. Let’s go on and change the subject some. Now the damage has already been done, what we need to do now is focus on the fallout and how to handle things from here on out until the dogs that are the media lets go of this particular bone.”

  “We both got the rest of this week off through the weekend,” I said, the wheels and gears turning in my head.

  “Well, that’s s
omething – even under the shitty fuckin’ circumstances,” Golden declared.

  “Our phones keep blowing the fuck up so bad we’re gonna have to change our numbers,” I said and there was some cringing, and some scrunched up faces around the table.

  “Baby, what do you want?” Narcos asked, eyes leveled on Ellie who was sort of collapsed in on herself in her seat, her fingers threaded through mine beneath the table, gripping my hand in a death grip.

  “Honestly, I wish I had the money to just go somewhere until Sunday. Somewhere where I can sit and paint and breathe and deal with what’s going on with me for a few days. I just want to leave the rabble behind.”

  “I have an idea.” The feminine voice was an unfamiliar one. Sweet, clear, and almost too soft to hear even in the silence that followed Ellie’s wish.

  I looked up and down the table and with a bit of a startle, fixed eyes onto Everleigh and blurted, “Was that you?”

  She blushed and tucked herself between Narcos and Driller and nodded.

  “I’m picking up just what you’re puttin’ down baby. You’re cool, I’ll take it from here if you want,” Narcos declared. Everleigh nodded a bit too rapidly and we all let it go. It was enough that she’d been comfortable enough to put it out there like she did. Outgoing she was not when it came to other people, especially new people and for good reason.

  “We got a summer cabin out in one of the West Virginia hollers, out on the river. Sound like just the place?” Narcos asked. I felt Ellie perk up just a bit beside me.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “It’s a hell of a long ride,” Driller said.

  “That’s okay if it gets us away from here for a minute.”

  “Could leave tomorrow morning,” Narcos declared.

  “Shit, yeah, brother.” It was sounding better and better the more I thought about it.

  “Well alright then,” Skids declared. “It sounds like that’s all settled.”

  I eyed Narcos, Everleigh, and Driller who were exchanging happy looks and thought this shit was gonna be interesting for sure.

  “I’ll have to go pack some things,” Ellie murmured.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, nodding.

  “Which means I’ll have to go home.”

  Shit, I knew she was thinking about the reporter that morning and whether there would be more waiting to ambush her or not.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “Why don’t you guys get something to eat here, get your shit, and come stay at our place tonight,” Golden said. “I’ll call up Lys and give her and Hombrecito the heads up, so they know you’re comin’.”

  I nodded. “Much appreciated, man.”

  “Anytime, my brother.”

  I checked with Ellie who looked thoughtful and finally nodded her assent.

  “It’ll be all good, baby. I promise,” I murmured against her temple and kissed her there. Her eyes slipped shut and she took a fortifying breath.

  “Promise?” she asked and I smiled.

  “Promise.”

  28

  Elka…

  We three went to my place first. Golden accompanying us in case there was an ambush, he could call it in and have them potentially criminally trespassed if the law would allow for it. Meanwhile, Oz was there to help me get things together for our trip. He was dubious about my plan to take paints and an easel, but I had that all covered and in a fairly compact fashion. All carriable on my back.

  We lucked out. There wasn’t anyone waiting, but then again, by the time we had left the 10-13, as Oz and the rest liked to call it, it was fairly late in the evening.

  Oz watched me as I packed light, a bag of clothes to wear that could go in his saddlebags on his bike, and my art kit. He raised an eyebrow at the paints I selected out of my big industrial tool box on wheels in my little art studio.

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “What? Yeah. I mean, I don’t really need that many pigments. I can honestly mix whatever colors I need with a few basics.”

  I pointed at my smaller French easel in the back of the closet and said, “Can you grab that one for me? I think it might be better for a trip like this.”

  “Yeah sure, what’s it do?”

  “It’s a French easel and allows me to carry the canvas back even though it might still be wet – which if I use oils, it will be. It takes forever for oils to dry.”

  “Yeah? About how long?” he asked.

  “Okay, I’m sort of misspeaking in layman’s terms a little bit, oils technically never dry, it’s the solvents in them that make the paint pliable that dries and it can take anywhere from twenty-four hours on up to twelve days depending on conditions.”

  “No shit?”

  “No, shit,” I said and slid my smaller pallet, my roll of brushes and paint knives, and my wooden box of pigments into my artist’s satchel.

  “I’m gonna look forward to watching you paint,” he said and I laughed.

  “It’s seriously about as boring as watching paint dry – which I guess comes with the territory, to be honest.”

  He cast his gaze to the painting of Mia and his expression softened.

  “Would it be selfish as fuck of me to ask you to keep this one?” he asked softly.

  I cocked my head slightly and went to him, wrapping both my arms around his one that held my French easel by the leather top loop to carry it by. I shook my head.

  “No,” I said gently.

  “I feel so fuckin’ guilty,” he said, tearing up and I teared up with him.

  “It was an accident,” I said and hugged his arm tight. “You were trying your absolute best to stop those men. It was just a stupid accident.”

  He nodded silently and said, “They weren’t even men,” he told me. “They were just boys.”

  The crushing weight of what he was dealing with hit me like a freight train in that moment. Soul crushing guilt about how I had been leaning on him so heavily followed.

  “God, Oz… I’m so sorry. Here you’ve been silently suffering all of this time and I’ve just been leaning on you like I’ve been the only one hurting all this time.”

  “Hey, no. You lost your sister –”

  He sighed out harshly as I began to cry. Setting down my easel, his own eyes rimmed with red despite shedding no tears of his own, he pulled me against his chest and held me tight. Once again, Oz was the stronger of us both while I dissolved into tears and a fresh batch of useless emotional goo over our mingling and mutual pains.

  “Everything alright?” Golden asked from the door a moment later as I was slowly pulling myself back together.

  “Yeah, man, yeah. Just a couple minutes more. It comes in waves, dude.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Golden said and disappeared from the studio doorway as silently as he’d appeared. “Take your time,” he called back down the hallway.

  I blew out a shaky breath and detached myself from Oz.

  “God, I am getting so sick of crying,” I said, voice still unsteady.

  “You and me both, babe,” he said with a nod. “It definitely ain’t my usual thing.”

  “Think we will ever get to a point that we won’t feel so crappy?” I asked, smoothing the wetness off my cheeks with my middle fingers.

  “Someday,” he said with a crooked grin. “Not today, and probably not tomorrow, but someday soon, yeah.”

  A silence fell between us, but it was one of comfort, one of healing, as the truth of his words sank in.

  I loaded a fresh canvas of an appropriate size into my French easel for transport and hooked the leather backpack-like straps to it for ease of carry.

  “Let me just change into something a little more appropriate for the road and we should be good to go,” I said standing.

  “Sounds good, I’ll be right out front with Golden packing this shit on the bike.”

  “Leave the easel and the satchel out, I can carry those. The only thing that needs to go into a side case is this.” I tossed him my small cylindrical duffel of
clothing for the next almost-week and he caught it.

  “Look at you go, we’ll make you a bad biker bitch yet.”

  I laughed. “And just when I was getting to be fine just being me.”

  “Who says the real you ain’t bad?” he asked.

  “I’m an art restorationist and nerd, ain’t nothing bad about that,” I declared.

  “You work on five-hundred-year-old shit without batting an eye. You got nerves of steel and ain’t nothing more badass than that.”

  He had me there.

  “I’m going to go get changed,” I said deflecting.

  “You do that,” he said hefting my bag and heading down the hallway. It never seemed to get old watching that crest on his back, those silver rays of justice shining behind that dark indigo chess piece.

  I sighed silently and slipped across the hall to my bedroom. Sometimes, there just wasn’t any justice surrounding a given situation. Sometimes it was just one big raw deal for everyone involved… like the situation at hand. My family, Oz, the families of the gang members shooting it out in the middle of the street in the first place… we were all hurting. All of us except for the men who had started it all. They didn’t have to hurt anymore, unless Hell was real, and they were burning in it.

  I dressed swiftly to ride, in better and proper protective gear. My sister’s boots, my poured-on jeans, a light tee, and my sister’s jacket. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and put everything I had been wearing in their proper place, shoes in a rack in the closet, belt on a hanger, the rest in the laundry hamper – washing in one side, dry cleaning in the other.

  My little apartment was as neat as ever and I felt a little sad, like I was being driven from it, but my heart thirsted to get away, to just get out of the city for a little while.

  I stepped back across to the studio, picking up my satchel and slinging it across my chest. I slipped first one arm through one strap, and the other arm through the other and secured the leather and canvas straps by pulling them tight, hitching the wooden framework into a more comfortable position on my back.