Old Lady (Iron Disciples Book 2) (13 page)

My sweet darling Morgan,

I’m told I don’t have many lucid moments
anymore, so I’m going to use one of my last to offer some guidance like I used
to do when you were a teenager. You may have been thinking that I wasn’t on my
A game when we spoke the other day, but I was blessed that day with a few
moments of clarity so here goes my two cents worth.

You are a good person Morgan. Don’t you ever
forget that. Sure you are prone to some rather rash and impulsive decisions but
you have become a fine young woman and you have accomplished a lot for someone
who isn’t perfect.  We all have our crosses to bear. Deep in your heart you
know what you have to do. I know what you think you have done to that young man
of yours, but I believe you’re wrong. Drinking too much lowers your inhibitions
and allows you to do things that you might think of but would never do. Alcohol
only lets you access parts of you that would normally stay locked away. You’re
no killer Morgan! You don’t have that in you so no amount of alcohol is going
to bring out what’s not there in the first place. I know you and I know what
you’re capable of and killing’s not one of them. You said your friend Stacy has
been trying to call you. You answer the phone when she calls or you call her
right away and find out where you stand. Then you go find your young man and
you stay there and you talk to him and bare your soul until you have made
everything right with him.

Morgan you’ve become a selfish, thoughtless,
ego maniac! I didn’t raise you that way and neither did your mom and dad so I
don’t know where you learned that, but it’s time to unlearn it. Go spend some
quality time with those less fortunate than yourself. Volunteer at the food
bank or the food kitchen. Do anything so long as it’s not about you. Go pass
out blankets to people sleeping under the bridges. Give out care packages. I
don’t care what you choose to do, but just do it. It just might save your soul.

I know you’re not my daughter by birth, but
your mine by love. I love you dearly and nothing can change that. You think
about what I said. It may be the last piece of advice I’ll be capable of
giving. I feel my mind starting to wander so now it’s time to say goodbye.
Don’t feel like you need to come down to visit me; I won’t know you. I’d rather
you remember me like this, before my brain gets scrambled again. So goodbye my
daughter, goodbye and go with God until we meet again one day.

Love your Auntie Swift

I set aside the letter before it gets too smeared with my
tears. I have cried more the last four days than I have in fourteen years and I
can scarcely stop. But these tears are different. They’re absent the anguish I
have been feeling. They’re more like tears of healing. With each drop that
escapes the corners of my eyes my soul feels just that much better. It’s like
the tears are beginning to wash clean the blackness of my heart and soul. For
the first time in…I don’t know how many days I’m starting to feel like I have
taken a step back away from the abyss. I don’t feel like I’m about to be
swallowed up by my feelings and that’s a huge fucking relief!

I can’t believe my aunt heard and understood what I was
saying to her that night and I can’t believe she was lucid enough to write to
me about it. As trite as it sounds, I feel like I’ve been given a new lease on
life. I have a chance now to be different and if I don’t take this opportunity
and do something with it…then my auntie was wrong about me and I am a bad
person. I don’t believe I’m a bad person, not anymore. It’s time to call Stacy
and face the music. I pick up my cell phone to make the call. It’s well after
one in the morning. I decide to wait till the morning.

At first I think it’s going to be impossible to sleep,
but having unburdened my conscious somewhat I find I am actually relaxed and
have no trouble sleeping. When I finally wake it’s close to nine in the
morning. Time to call Stacy and face the music.

She answers just before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Hi Stacy.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it! Is it really you Morgan!
I have been trying to get ahold of you like, forever, and so have Jason and
Brian too.”

Brian is my direct supervisor at Capital America. He’s my
only supervisor really, and has the power to fire me or promote me. The fact
that he’s trying to get me on the phone can’t be good at all.

“What the hell does Brian want?”

“Maybe you should hear it from him first.”

Shit! “Hear what Stacy?”

“Just call him.”

“Can you at least give me an idea? I’d kinda like to know
what I’m getting myself into before I talk to him.”

After a long pause she finally answers. “It’s about your
job Morgan. Be prepared to fight for your career; that’s all I know.”

“Shit! You…never mind. I guess I had this coming didn’t
I?”

“Just call him.”

“Fine.” I reply. “I’ll call ya later.”

“Bye…and good luck.”

This I did not see coming. I look at my phone. It’s July
16
^th
. Oh fuck! I was supposed to be at work a week ago. So he’ll be
pissed, so fucking what? I’m one of their biggest producers. No fucking way
they’re going to can me!

I dial Brian’s cell number. He answers it right away.

“Morgan? It’s about freaking time! Where the hell have
you been?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking. How about you?”

“Morgan you need to come in today. We have to talk.”

“I’ll be in next Monday. We can talk then.”

“No,” he replies. “We need to talk today. Mike from legal
is here so the three of us need to meet. I need you here by 4:30.”

“What the hell is legal doing there?”

“Just come in Morgan.”

“Tell me why you have legal counsel in your office waiting
to meet with me.”

“Really don’t want to do this on the phone Morgan.”

“Well I don’t want to come in today. I’ll be in Monday.
Whatever you have to say can be said then.”

“Don’t even think about showing your face here Monday if
you can’t come in today! You’re in big trouble Morgan.”

“Because I’m a week late? After all the years I’ve put
into the firm? After all the fucking money I’ve made you? Seriously Brian?”

“Not my decision Morgan. You put your license in serious jeopardy
by consorting with a known outlaw biker gang. How could you not think it would
come to this? This gang you’ve been hanging with, The Iron Disciples, they’re
under an investigation for a half a dozen crimes that fall under RICO. Your
name has come up in their investigation. You could end up going down as an
accessory to who knows how many crimes.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I have done nothing wrong
here. I was just…well I dated a guy who was in the club but I never
participated in any crimes. I wasn’t even present during anything illegal.”

“So you had no knowledge of any crimes either before or
after they happened?” He asks. “Is that your official stance?”

“Yes…I…I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“And you refuse to come in today?”

I’m pretty damn sure it won’t do any good to come in.
He’s already made his mind up. I can feel my heart beginning to sink. Trading
stocks is my life. It’s what I do and I’m a damn good trader too. If I never
traded another stock again my trailing fees would still net me six figures
annually. They fucking better not try and take that away from me.

“I’ll come in Monday.” There I’ve drawn a line in the
sand. Let’s hope it’s not the wrong move. I really need to call a lawyer.

“I’m sorry Morgan, but you leave me with no choices here.
As of today you’re suspended from trading at Capital America. Jason and Stacy
will be handling your clients until this can all be straightened out.”

“What about my trailin-”

“You’ll still get your trailing commissions unless it
becomes necessary to let you go. Do you have any questions?”

“So you’re stealing my clients are you? How the fuck do
you sleep at night Brian?”

“Hey don’t you go accusing me of stealing. You got
yourself into this mess. I am just giving you some time to get your ass out of
it. You do that and you can have your clients back. Now go get your shit
together Morgan and don’t show up until you do.”

How the fuck can Stacy be dating the Disciples Sargent at
Arms, the club’s enforcer, and not be under investigation herself? Somebody’s
been talking, that’s how. Somebody ratted me out. Now who would gain form that?
Jason and Stacy, that’s who. That little slut! She fucking ratted on me! At
least it looks that way. I need a lawyer.

“Dammit!”

I throw my phone across the room and lie back on the bed
fuming. Those fuckers are gonna take my clients, then my trailing commissions,
and split up the spoils amongst themselves. I wonder what kind of deal Brian
offered them. Even if you split my trailing earnings three ways it would still
probably gross 50-55k each. Fuckers!  

Then it hits me again like a ton of fucking bricks. None
of this shit matters anyway. I’m going down for what I did to Cade anyway.
Small comfort my trailing earnings are gonna be when I’m sitting in a cell for
the next forty years. But what if what my aunt said about me not being a killer
is true? I need a drink. I search around the mess of bottles for one that’s not
empty but I got nuthin. Then my auntie’s voice pops into my head.

“Make it right Morgan, you’re better than this. Lay off
the drink and make things right.”

Crap…the only way to make this right is to turn myself
in. They’re gonna find me anyway. If not the police the club, and I really
don’t want to come under the club’s brand of justice. Jail for the rest of my
life would be the kinder gentler way to go. I hobble across the room and
retrieve my phone. I have to call that bitch Stacy and tell her what I’ve done.
Seems like she doesn’t know it was me or she would have said something. She
answers on the first ring.

“So how’d it go?” She asks right away.

“I think you already know that Stacy. But that’s not why
I called.”

“What’s going on then?”

I take a deep breath. This is possibly the hardest phone
call I have ever had to make. Yeah…definitely the hardest.

“Um…I don’t quite, know how to say this Stacy…but I guess
I’m gonna turn myself in tomorrow…”

“What?”

“I’m the one who did it Stacy. I had way too much to
drink and-”

“What the hell are you talking about Morgan?”

“What do you mean what? I’m the one who…” I can’t even
say it. “I…you do know what happened to Cade right?”

“I don’t know I haven’t talked to him in a week. Shooter
would know though.”

Something’s not adding up here. She appears to know
nothing. Everything as far as she’s concerned is normal. I don’t get it.

“Stacy, about a week or so ago I woke up in a hotel with
blood all over my clothes and I had one of Cade’s shirts and it was covered in
his blood. That was all my doing Stacy. You have to know about that. Right?”

“Geeze Morgan, I don’t kno-”

“I killed him Stacy. It was me who did it.”

I’m starting to get a little angry here. It’s bad enough
that I have to confess to this shit, and now I have to convince my friend, my
former friend, that I did it. Something weird is going on here.

“When did you do this… this heinous crime?” She asks me.

“I don’t fucking know. More than a week ago I guess. I’ve
been hiding out in hotels rooms ever since.”

“Morgan, I don’t know what you think you did, but you did
not kill Cade. You had a shit load of Sangria to drink that night and you
spilled it on you and Cade’s clothes. Do you not remember any of this?” She
asks.

Color me speechless. “I-I don’t remember a damn thing
from that night Stacy.”

“Oh man… Morgan. Can I just say one thing here?” She
continues on without waiting for me to reply. “You should like, never drink again.
I mean it, not one damn drop.”

“You don’t think I’ve already done that? These last four
or five days have been living fucking hell! I even called my aunt that has
Alzheimer’s and confessed to her I was so freaking desperate.”

“Don’t ever drink again Morgan!”

“Yeah I heard you the first damn time Stacy.

I can’t believe this. How can I have thought I murdered
Cade? My hands are starting to shake. Oh my freaking god, am I getting a new
lease on life here? I’m not going to prison then?

“So…how’s Cade then?”

“Like I said Morgan, I haven’t talked to him in almost a
week. Actually longer than that ago. I saw him after that party but we really
didn’t talk. He was still pissed at you and so therefore, pissed at me just
because we’re friends. My only saving grace here is because I’m Shooter’s old
lady.”

Wow, then its official, Stacy and Shooter. But that still
begs the question, how the fuck is she not in trouble with the club and the
whole RICO deal? I’m guessing I wouldn’t be either if someone hadn’t thrown my
hat into the ring, so to speak. I wonder if there is any way that someone could
not have been Stacy. I have no friends to speak of, and I really don’t want to
alienate Stacy. She has become a friend of sorts over the past month and I
would like to keep it that way. I just don’t know how I’m going to find out if
she is guilty or not.