One That Came Back (3 page)

“Before? I don’t understand.” She tried to remember what he meant. They’d never talked about shootings, and killings and bad guys. Never.

“Of course you don’t, sweetheart. You don’t remember.” He looked away again. “We’re never allowed to remember.” His voice was sad and wistful.

She didn’t understand what he was saying. It didn’t make sense. She watched him stand. “Luke, don’t go! I need you!” She reached for him, but he seemed just out of her grasp.

He nodded. “I need you too, but right now, you have to have faith. In us. Can you do that, baby?”

Before she could answer, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around her and took her mouth in a swift, passionate kiss. He broke from her lips and his mouth moved down. He kissed her on her breasts, tearing away the flimsy fabric of her dream dress. He left her naked and quivering under him. She worked his belt with her fingers, releasing it, and he helped pull down his jeans as he sucked hard on her nipple. Pleasure shot through her, heating her, making her want him more. She needed him inside her.

“Baby,” he whispered. “I love everything about you.”

Her need drove all other thoughts from her mind. “Now,” she begged.

He didn’t wait. He pressed the head of his shaft against her hot, wet folds and then filled her. He slid in inch by delicious inch, taking not just her body but her soul.

Her breathing sped, and she moved her hips to incite the heat which threatened to break into flame. She wanted that fire. Emily needed this man, only him. No other made her feel as he did. No other made her want to pour out all the love in her soul.

“Luke!” she cried as the universe burst apart.

His shaft pummeled her more and tore yet another orgasm from her.

“Emily!” He continued to pulse inside her, and as she came again, she knew it wasn’t just his seed he gave her, but all of himself. He gave himself to her to love. To keep. To cherish. For all of time.

She woke with a start, sitting upright, suddenly awake and breathing hard. At that moment she realized she’d do what Luke had asked in the dream, to keep the faith.

Whatever happened, she loved Luke Wade too much to let him go.

Dancing With The Devil

Luke woke in the dark in his own apartment with his sheets wet and sticky. Through the haze of half sleep he realized he’d come in his sleep. Luke leaned back into his pillow with a soft moan. He hadn’t done this since he was a teenager, but the dream of Emily was so real it shook him to his core.

They were sitting in a meadow side by side talking, and it felt peaceful there. She was so beautiful, with her blonde hair and her shining blue eyes, he had to kiss her. But in the dream they did more than that, much, much more. He took her body as she possessed his soul and they became entwined as one.

He sighed. That wouldn’t happen, not ever again, which, he supposed, was why he had dreamed about her. The frustrated need he felt in high school to have her forever reared its head and roared the past few days. There were few things in Luke’s life which felt right and natural. One was motorcycles. Another was his shop. But forever and always it was Emily Rose Dougherty that had first place in his heart, and he suspected would always be so.

But Luke was in too deep with the DEA’s investigation of Jack Kinney to be with her. Ever again.

That, along with Gibs’ death weighing on his heart, pissed him off. Mightily.

If he could, he’d pound Aces and his minions, Wolf and Dagger, into the ground. However, not only was he sworn to silence, he promised to take no action that could jeopardize the DEA’s investigation.

He regretted that promise.

But tied up with his assurances that he’d play nice with the assholes responsible for Gibs’ death was the DEA’s agreement to Luke’s price for his cooperation. Emily would be freed of local charges and no law enforcement would bother her regarding him or the shit going down in his shop or Hades’ Spawn. Emily’s safety and peace of mind were utmost in his mind, and with all the mayhem swirling around him, this deal was the best way he could deliver it.

Luke grabbed his iPhone from the nightstand and swiped open his messages. The sudden bright light from the display blurred his eyesight, and he rubbed his hand across his eyes. It came away damp, and he swore to himself. This was no time to lose it. There wouldn’t be time for that, if at all, for many months. Image was everything now, and the tougher, the meaner, he could act would play to Jack Kinney’s mercenary instincts.

Fuckin’, Kinney! His instincts were basic, violent and totally self-interested. Luke intuitively understood men like Jack Kinney and was pretty sure he knew how to exploit the natural drives of men like him. He got a taste of that when he ran with the Rojos and had found it very easy to slip into their way of life. He supposed he got that from his father, his real father, not the succession of jerks who play-acted the role in his foster homes. It had taken many years before Luke pieced together his childhood recollections, colored them with the understanding of adulthood and figured the truth.

His father was a criminal.

Not a minor drug dealer, a foot soldier of a gang, or a petty thief. No, he was a major player in a Mexican drug cartel. Only he tore himself from that life to protect his wife and his young son. And it got him killed.

Like Gibs.

Luke re-swiped the screen to bring up his messages. Pepper—no Hector—he corrected himself, left a check-in message.

“Everything secure.”

Luke insisted that someone stay with Helen and figured it was Hector’s turn. Saks had run around all day doing errands for Luke, and Luke needed him fresh for the day. It gave Luke a small measure of satisfaction that Pepper had to play the role he was assigned as Luke’s employee.

Luke never had a tougher job than confirming what Helen suspected from the news reports, that her husband was dead. The sturdy woman he knew crumpled in his arms, inconsolable in her grief. He let her cry herself out before she lay down on the bed, and the woman had a lot of tears. They left his leather jacket wet.

He now had a man’s blood and a woman’s tears on that jacket.

That summed up his life perfectly.

It took a few days before the coroner would release Gibs’ body. The waiting and uncertainty of when that would happen took a toll on Helen and, by default, Luke. He went with her to the funeral home to help her with the arrangements. He never knew there were so many details to decide, and he was relieved when Helen’s sister arrived from Virginia to help. He felt both grateful and guilty he could hand off Helen’s care to someone else, though he knew intellectually that her sister could help Helen in her time of grief better than he.

All he thought about was Gibs and Emily. He tried not to, but it was impossible not to.

He didn’t like sitting in his apartment. His leg was on the way to healing and the most he felt was some soreness when something hit the muscle in his leg wrong. So he went to the shop and worked on the books, but even that was difficult. Everywhere he turned he thought he saw Gibs standing there, holding his coffee mug. Once, after staring for hours at his own messed-up accounting work, he dozed off. Not knowing he was asleep he stared at the image of Gibs walking into the office from the garage.

The tough old man grinned at Luke. “When?” he said, pointing to a poster on the wall. Only it wasn’t a picture of a buxom blonde but Jack Kinney that straddled the Harley.

“Soon,” said Luke.

“Good.” Gibs strolled back into the garage.

Luke woke with a start and rubbed his eyes. Sitting here was doing no good, and he had to get the shop open soon. He resolved it would be the Monday after the funeral.

Thinking of the funeral, he went online to a florist shop and found one that personalized floral arrangements. They wouldn’t make anything with a corporate name due to copyright issues, which shot down his idea of having a Harley arrangement. But they could frame a picture with flowers. Luke agreed and paid for it with his credit card, then sat back and flipped through the images on his phone to get one of Gibs. He found one of him wearing his Hades’ Spawn jacket, looking over his shoulder and holding up a beer at the Red Bull. At the time, he almost ignored the impulse to take Gibs’ picture, but now he was glad he’d followed through. He sent the image to the florist’s shop through email.

He called Saks, and then Pepper, to announce his intention to reopen the shop. He hated calling Pepper that name now. But again, he couldn’t break the cover that the agent created and Luke supposed that it would be soon enough before he’d have to sponsor Pepper for a patch.

The last thing Luke did was write a check to Helen for five thousand dollars. He didn’t want her to worry about money. He was sure the five grand Gibs had taken from their savings probably put a serious dent in things, and he didn’t know how Helen’s financial situation was regarding her assets and Gibs’ estate.

With that done he pocketed the check, and after locking up, headed for his SUV parked to the right of the building. He wanted to ride one of his bikes, but his leg was still sore.

“Wade!”

The sudden call of his name shook Luke out of his reverie. In the parking lot adjacent to his SUV, Detective Anglotti leaned against his car.

Luke shook his head, and ignored him, avoiding the cop’s eyes as he walked toward his SUV.

“Hey, asshole! Talk to me.”

Luke leveled his gaze to Anglotti. “On the advice of my counsel I decline to answer any questions.” He opened the door of the SUV.

“Why has my investigation been shut down, Wade?” Anglotti spoke loudly, nearly shouting. His voice echoed in the early morning silence.

Luke shrugged. “Maybe because there’s nothing to investigate.”

“Men are dead, Wade.”

Luke slammed the door shut without climbing into it. “You think I don’t know that?”

“You’re in the thick of it. Tell me what’s going on.”

Luke put on his shades, even though the sun had barely risen. “There’s nothing to tell. Stop bothering me, Anglotti. I’ve nothing to say to you.” He reopened his door and climbed into his SUV shaking with anger. The DEA promised immunity, but they didn’t promise that local police would stop bothering him. In fact, they wanted it to keep Luke’s evolving cover as a loyal Hades’ Spawn member willing to move up.

He hated this. This wasn’t him. It wasn’t the man he wanted to be.

But he had to. For Emily’s sake. “Dammit!”

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed away from Anglotti. Not sure where to go, he drove for a while before finally stopping by
Gibs’ house.

Helen’s sister, Mary, answered the door. “Hello, Luke. She’s finally sleeping.”

“That’s good. Can you give this to her? Tell her it was the bonus I was supposed to give Frank.”

Mary took the check and her eyes narrowed.

“This isn’t a bonus check,” she said. “It’s made out to Helen.”

“I want her to have it. I know things will be tough. Nothing’ll make up for Frank’s loss, but I don’t want her struggling financially also.”

Mary handed him the check back. “We Andersons don’t take charity.”

He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “I’m not taking it back. If she doesn’t cash it, I’ll just send her another one.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I can be stubborn too. And I know where she lives.” He purposely kept his tone light.

Mary smiled. “Okay, Luke. I’ll give it to her. But you can expect much the same response.”

“All I can do is try. Has anyone else from the club been by?”

Mary shook her head. “Only Saks and Pepper. They come by regularly to check up on us.”

Luke nodded, feeling a slow burn. “Well, everyone in the club will be at the funeral.”

“I’m sure.” She said it politely, but not understanding the importance of the club’s loyalty.

“I’ll see you later then.” Luke got into his SUV feeling his anger roiling in his stomach. Kinney caused Gibs’ death and didn’t have the decency to pay his respects to Helen? It was outrageous. What else could he expect from a coward? Aces sent Gibs to do his dirty work and dragged him into the middle of the Rojos and the Hombres. Luke ground his teeth as he drove away.

It didn’t take him long to reach the Red Bull. He scanned the lines of motorcycles and found Aces, Wolf, and Dagger’s bikes parked together.

He thought a few moments, trying to decide what he wanted to do. The angry part of him wanted to call out Kinney and give him a good beating. The calculating part of him wanted to reel the f’er in and let him get spit roasted slowly by the burn of his crimes. His brain won out over his heart this time. Beating up Kinney would provide a moment’s satisfaction. Watching him get thrown in jail for twenty years would provide years of revenge.

Luke pasted a smile on his face and entered the bar. He scanned the room and found Kinney’s table. With a motion of his hand, he indicated to John, the barkeeper, to send a round to the table. John knew enough what Luke liked to drink so it arrived with the others after Luke sat down.

“Hey guys,” he said.

“Luke!” Kinney blinked in surprise. “What brings you here?”

Luke took a sip of his beer and looked Kinney in the eye. It was nearly lunch… nearly. Or it had to be five o’clock somewhere. “Too bad about Gibs. I hear he was helping you out.”

Kinney settled back in his seat and stared at him, as if trying to gauge Luke’s comment and the man himself.

“Everyone helps his brothers in the club.”

“Not this kind of help.”

Kinney glanced at Wolf, then Dagger, who both crossed their arms over their chests and sent Luke hard stares from their tough faces.

“So what of it?” Kinney shrugged and smiled.

“I’m a businessman, Aces. I believe I’ve shown I have connections.”

“That Rojos president is dead.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Luke fired back each of his responses as if he’d rehearsed them. “You think that matters? And you think he was the only connection I have?”

Kinney sniffed and rubbed his nose.

From Kinney’s reactions to his comments, Luke surmised the depth of Aces’ stupidity. The man used his own product. That made this club’s president both easier and more difficult to deal with. It might be easier to get in with him because his judgment was clouded, but the man would be more paranoid and unpredictable. Luke sighed, pretending to give in. “Fine. Then let’s talk business.” Luke took another sip of his beer. He’d dance with the devil if it meant avenging Gibs’ death, and right now that devil was Jack Kinney.