Outlaw: Screaming Eagles MC (10 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Falcon had to stop himself from coughing when he closed the door. The tiny office was filled with cigarette smoke that hung so thick in the air he could barely see through it. But slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark room and he could see his boss on the other side of his giant desk. There was a cellphone, a closed laptop, and a closed notebook in front of him. He was slouched back in his chair and looked about ten years older than the last time Falcon had seen him. His eyes were bloodshot and lined, his shirt wrinkled with a large coffee stain on the left side.

“I’m sorry I missed your calls, boss. My phone was on silent...”

Falcon waited for Ernie to say something, but the other man remained in his seat, his eyes were glazed over as he stared over the expanse of his desk. Finally, with a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair and sat up in his chair.

“Have a seat,” the boss said and Falcon sat down in one of the wooden hard backed chairs in the office. The boss sighed again and reached down and opened a bottom drawer and took his time rummaging through it.

Falcon tensed, was this is it? Was his boss looking for a gun or some evidence he had discovered. Falcon tried to stay calm, resisting the urge to grip the armrests of his chair, forcing himself to remain outwardly calm.

When Ernie appeared again he had a bottle of whiskey and two high ball glasses in his hands and he poured a large glass for himself and then one for Falcon. Once the drinks were poured he pushed Falcon’s across the desk and it spilled over the edge, leaving little drops of whiskey on its path to the other side. Falcon grabbed the drink before it fell and held it in his hands while Ernie drank his one big swallow.

“Where you been, Falcon?” Ernie asked. He sounded exhausted and he glanced at him for only a second before pouring himself another glass.

“I needed to blow off some steam, so I went for a ride and met up with this girl,” Falcon said taking a sip of the very expensive whiskey the boss kept hidden in his office for himself. It went down smooth and left a smoky aftertaste. Falcon didn’t think he had ever had a whiskey this expensive. The boss might have been busy, but he lived a good life.

“Good,” the boss said with a slow nod. “You’re a young guy, you should be out there sowing your wild oats and enjoying life. Me, I’ve been stuck in this office all day, trying to keep my head above water.”

Falcon nodded but said nothing else. He had to hide a smile, glad Ernie’s day had been ruined. It was the least Falcon could do. In fact, Falcon was planning on ruining as many of the boss’ days as he could.

“I’ve managed to secure another warehouse,” Ernie said. He sat up a little straighter and focused his eyes on Falcon. “It’s over near Echo Park. It’s a bad part of town, so hopefully we won’t get too much flack from the cops. I’ve managed to move most of our remaining merchandise there. It’s secure at the moment, but we don’t have the time to sit on the goods. The club needs an influx of cash, now, and the best way to do it is to move what we have as fast as possible. I’ve set up a buyer overseas, but we need to get the MDMA from the warehouse to the docks and then it’s out of our hands.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Falcon said with nod as he took another sip of the fine whiskey.

“I have the goods. What I lack is men,” Ernie continued. “Jobs like this need a man on the ground. Someone to coordinate the men, plan the route, talk to the workers at the docks, and handle all the little things that come up in big jobs. Normally that would be Billy or Big Chris, but sadly they’re still in police custody.”

“Any word on getting them out or getting them an attorney?” Falcon asked.

Ernie waved his hand in the air in an off-hand manner accidentally clearing the smoke that had been lingering in his face. “The city will give them a lawyer; we don’t need to waste our money on that.”

Falcon relaxed his grip in the high ball glass in his hand. He had been so angry he almost crushed it. He remained outwardly calm while cursing Ernie on the inside. How could he say things like that? How could he claim that buying a lawyer for two of his top members was a waste of money? It disgusted Falcon that he worked for this man for so long, this man who didn’t care about anyone but himself.

“You’ve been a good, loyal soldier for many years, Falcon. But you’ve always just been a soldier. I never had any grand dreams for you. But you’ve impressed me these last few days. Big Chris called me yesterday, told me how you tried to get him and Billy out of there. I appreciate that. But more importantly, I appreciate that you haven't been captured yet. Two raids by the police and in both instances you managed to escape. I’m impressed and now I’m ready to reward you.”

“Is there a room filled with redheads waiting for me somewhere?” Falcon asked finishing his drink. His voice sounded lazy and almost a little bored, as if talking to the leader of the Screaming Eagles was an inconvenience for him.

“Not yet,” Ernie answered. “But I want you to handle this job for me. Get the drugs from the warehouse to the docks and there will be something in it for you: a promotion. If you do this well, you’ll move up the chain, Falcon. You’ll be a leader in the Screaming Eagles and leadership, while hard work, does come with perks. Redheads could be one of the perks, if that’s what you want.”

Falcon’s heart stopped. Ernie didn’t suspect anything. In fact, he wanted to promote Falcon. He was putting him in charge of a major operation. Falcon couldn’t help but shake his head, years of hard work and sacrifice for the Screaming Eagles had earned him nothing more than a job as a foot soldier. But now that he had stopped trying, now that he was skipping out to hookup with women, now the gang wanted to promote him. It just confirmed what he recently discovered: the Screaming Eagles were a joke. They looked past hard-working members and promoted only those with the right biker attitude.

He didn’t care about impressing the Screaming Eagles; what he cared about now was impressing Grace. He was going to dump a huge bust right into her lap. He was going to give her a truck full of MDMA and the info on the buyer. Maybe then it would be enough to really take down the Screaming Eagles. Maybe it would be enough for them to storm the clubhouse and grab Ernie, the real mastermind, the one person who most belonged in jail.

It might be enough to end it all. No more double life, no more lying. He could get out of the gang and get his record wiped clean. Dealing with spoiled rich kids in line for the club where Kelly worked wasn’t his dream job, but it was better than this. He could work as a bouncer and make good money and have his days free to be with Sophie. There was a chance that if Falcon played his cards right, he could get out of this with everything he wanted.

“You start tomorrow,” the boss said. “I’ve been giving out your number, so get ready for a lot of phone calls.”

Sensing the conversation was over, Falcon stood and placed his empty glass on the desk.

“Oh, the fights are tomorrow, aren’t they?” Ernie said, scratching the back of his head. “You might want to bow out of those. I need you working, not recovering from a beating.”

“All due respect boss, but I never miss a fight. I’ve also never needed to take the next day off. Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you just get some sleep?”

Ernie gave a grunt and gave a nod at Falcon and it looked like he was about to pass out in right there in his chair. It was amazing how quickly Ernie had turned from a God-like figure to just another man doing a job. Falcon had no reverence left for Ernie, just disgust and annoyance and a desire to put the other man behind bars.

“All clear, but I got some more news for you,” Falcon sent the text to Grace the second he was out of the boss’ office. It was eleven thirty; he still had thirty minutes.

“Good. Will be in touch,” Grace responded almost immediately.

Falcon breathed a sigh of relief. He had managed to stay alive for another day. He was still in the game. The knot in his stomach was gone and his only regret was that Grace couldn’t be there to celebrate with him.

Chapter Twenty

“So, it’s like a promotion?” Kelly asked as she tried to wrangle Sophie into her shoes.

“If it goes well, yes. I know you see the bikers at the club and I just wanted you to hear it from me first. Falcon was sipping a cup of coffee in Kelly’s apartment. It was early in the morning the next day. He had slept fitfully for a few hours and woken up before the sun. There had been nothing from Grace that night or this morning. He had his phone set to the highest volume and was checking it every other minute, but still no word.

He sent her three more texts imploring her to call him, but still he was met with only silence. His waking hours had been a struggle against imagining something very real being wrong. Was Grace all right? Was the investigation still moving forward? The silence was disconcerting. He was ready to give the cops a huge bust against the Screaming Eagles, if only the cops would return his calls.

“Do you want to move up in the gang, Falcon? I thought you wanted to get out,” Kelly said as she sent Sophie to her room for a sweater.

“I want to make some money, Kelly. For Sophie and for you,” he stopped unsure of what to tell her next. In truth he was planning on getting out of the Screaming Eagles, to destroy his old club from the inside out. But he couldn’t tell Kelly that. He didn’t want to burden her with that kind of knowledge.

“I am happy for you. I just don’t want you to end up in jail, that’s all,” Kelly said.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to jail,” Falcon replied with a rueful smile.

“And what about the fights? Does this at least get you out of them? You know how much I hate that.”

“The fights are still happening today,” he admitted. “But hopefully this’ll be the last time I have to do it.

“Good, I don’t want our daughter getting used to you with a face full of bruises and cuts.”

“Hey, Sophie!” he said, a huge smile appearing on his face as his fully dressed and ready to go daughter bounded into the living room. “Want to get some breakfast?”

“Yes!” she cried, her hands up the air. It was one of the things Falcon loved about her. No matter where they went or what they did, she was always happy and eager and ready to go. He knew that, eventually, she would grow into a sullen teenager, but he was glad to able to spend this time with her now, when everything was new and exciting.

He checked his phone again in the car and all throughout breakfast, but there was no message or call from Grace. It was making Falcon uneasy. Was there something wrong, a hitch in the plan? If something bad went down, could Falcon really count on Grace to save him, or would she leave him hanging in the wind? At breakfast he tried to focus on Sophie, he cut up her pancakes for her and let her drink as much chocolate milk as she wanted and she was dead asleep when he gave her back to Kelly.

“I might not be around too much the next couple of days,” Falcon said. Sophie was asleep in his arms and he put her down into her bed and watched her for a moment as she slept in that deep sleep reserved for little children.

“I’m glad you took her to breakfast,” Kelly said. “If she asks, I’ll just say you’re working.” Falcon glanced down at her and could see the worry in her eyes. “Don’t fight today,” she begged with a whisper.

“I have to. But it’s the last time, I promise,” he said.

“Be careful, Falcon,” Kelly said and with a chaste kiss on the cheek he left the apartment and walked out into the still early morning.

There was nothing from Grace. Falcon had no one else in the police department he could talk to. His only connection was Grace and he wanted to keep it that way, but he was in charge of a major operation now. He wanted the operation to fail, and for Grace to succeed and make her busts, but he couldn’t do that if she never called him back.

Falcon arrived back at his small one-bedroom apartment and started getting ready for that day’s fight. He washed his hair and shaved away the previous day’s stubble. Wearing a pair of gym shorts and a white tank top Falcon began to warm up. He lifted his strong arms high above his head and stretched before taping his knuckles and slipping into his sneakers.

In the small patch of grass he called a backyard, Falcon had set up a punching bag on a post buried deep into the ground. He took a few deep breaths and brought his hands up, bouncing on his feet and jabbing at the bag. He hit it hard and sent the bag swinging around. It felt good to fight; it felt good to hit something.

The Screaming Eagles were famous for their weekly fights. It wasn’t just members of the club who came. Anyone who got an invitation could come to the clubhouse for the fight. But invitations for non-members were hard to come by. Only the boss could invite people to the fights; the rest of the gang had no power over them.

There was also a lot of money in the fights. The men who won for the week got five thousand in cash, plus whatever bets they made. It was a normal part of the experience for the fighters to bet on themselves. Falcon always bet big, if not huge. All of the money he won in the fights was put away for Sophie. So far he had about forty thousand dollars tucked away for her, all earned through the fights. He made the stakes high so he would have no other option than to win.

He continued to punch and jab at the bag. His phone was on a stump next to him. There was still nothing from Grace. Where was she? Why wasn’t she calling him? Had he done something wrong the other night? But no, there was no chance of that. He had made her come over and over again, what problem could she have with that.

Falcon pounded on the bag, sending his fist into the canvas and sending the bag spinning and flying. He wiped the sweat from his brow and continued to fight the bag until it was time to leave. He didn’t want to overdo it in training and after an hour he stopped. He picked up the phone and dialed Grace’s number, but all he got was her voicemail and he hung up without bothering to leave a message.

He dressed and drove to the club. He parked his bike with all the others and grabbing his gym bag he walked into the crowded clubhouse. A cheer went up as he entered and Falcon gave a half-hearted wave as he walked to the bathroom to change. The bar was filled to capacity, and there were a lot of non-members there. Falcon knew the boss charged the non-members to come and see the fight, but Falcon had no idea how much it cost them to get in and it suddenly struck him that his boss had been profiting from the fights and not sharing any of it with the actual fighters. Falcon was in that pit getting hit every other week; the boss was in his office or drinking and watching and collecting every last penny.

Dominos were lining up against Ernie. How had Falcon not noticed how corrupt he was until now? They were in a biker gang, so a certain amount of corruption was expected, but it should never have been at the expense of his members. He was supposed to look out for the brothers, to protect them and lead them, not profit from their misery.

Falcon didn’t feel the usual rush of adrenaline that came before a fight. Normally he would be pumped up, a bundle of energy that couldn't stop moving. But that was the old Falcon, the one who still believed in the gang. The new Falcon was less enthused; he had seen between the cracks in the Screaming Eagles organization and had realized there was nothing but rot underneath. He was going through the motions, fighting because it was expected of him, not because he wanted to win.

He dressed quickly while he listened to the hoots and hollers coming from the other side of the door. How was it he was just understanding how barbaric this was right now? How had he not realized it years ago? He was about to go out there and beat up another foot soldier for the entertainment of rich pricks from LA who had paid a pretty penny to come and watch the poor guys from the other side of the tracks hit each other.

Falcon looked at himself in the mirror. He looked as his dark eyes and his dark hair and the muscles that poured out from his tank top. He put a tough and intimidating look on his face.

“One last time, Falcon,” he said to himself.