Wild Ways (14 page)

* * *

Scotch stood with the patches in the St. Louis chapter at the funeral for Rifle. He’d known the guy, nicknamed for his choice of weapon, from various meets and funerals along the way. He and his two buddies had been in OKC for a concert and decided to grab a couple of brews at one of the local Kings hangouts. One was dead. The other two were scraped up bad.

Scotch’s chapter had lost one, too. Greaser might have made it if they could’ve taken him to a hospital. But those folks didn’t take gunshot wounds lightly, and the Kings couldn’t chance being questioned. Especially when the cops had been crawling all over the Ship’s Inn. They sure as hell would love to crawl all over the Kings’ asses. Blazer stood nearby, a bandage over the wound on his head.

After a moment of silence, the men stepped away from the makeshift grave and
wandered over to the shooting range. The chapter had several acres of land surrounding their clubhouse. Scotch wondered how many bodies were buried there. Not all of them were fallen Kings.

The St. Louis chapter president sidled up next to him. “Who the hell are these guys helping the woman?” Fat Bob—who wasn’t fat at all—crushed his empty beer can in his meaty fist. “Last you knew, she was alone, and all of a sudden she’s got two fucking Rambos?”

“Maybe they’re mercenaries or hired guns. Probably military by the way this guy could shoot. They’re our first problem. Brick is our second problem. He knows too much.”

“And they’re looking for Brick,” Blazer chimed in, having just stuck his phone in his pocket. “My cousin said a Hispanic guy and red-haired woman were at a bar in Tulsa, real subtle-like, asking after Brick. Blackbeard was going to press on them, but the guy shot a hole in a quarter that he tossed in the air. Hinted that he was a SEAL sniper and that he was the dude who shot our guys. Blackbeard was gonna follow them, but they disappeared.”

Scotch rubbed his chin. “If Brick leads them to Chicago, man, it’s going to get ugly.”

“Smart thing would be to push the Kings’ Ball back, maybe even cancel it,” Edge, his chapter’s new sergeant at arms, said.

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Fat Bob said. “It’s Crimson’s baby. One night, rake in a butt load of cash, and it’s over.”

“And risky as hell,” Scotch said. “We’re not talking drugs or stolen scooters here. We get caught, we go down for kidnapping and murder.” The head mother was getting too full of himself, but no one had the balls to stand up to him.

“You’ll have to take that up with Crimson. All we want is justice. What do you need our help with?” Fat Bob asked.

Scotch handed him the address their PI had given him last night. “We need to run Brick down. He has an uncle at this address. He’ll haul ass if he sees me; maybe he’ll talk
if one of you shows up. Tell him you think I was too harsh, and your chapter wants to extend an invitation to join. Bring him here. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Fat Bob looked at the address. “It’ll give me a chance to test the modifications I made on my Fat Boy.” His choice of ride had probably played into his nickname. “But what about the woman and her two friends?”

“We’ve got the whole chapter out looking for them. I’m heading up to Chicago to keep an eye on things there. They’re going to stick their noses where they shouldn’t at some point.” Scotch pulled out his hunting blade and slashed at the air. “And we’ll cut them clean off.”

* * *

It took a little over two hours to find the address, situated in a nice, middle-class area outside the city. Julian didn’t see any evidence of bikes at all, just a few yards that were maybe a week overdue for mowing, a few oil stains on concrete driveways.

Of course, people noticed his bike with the distinctive Harley sound, and they shot him dirty looks. He half-expected one scowling older lady who was watering her lawn in her muumuu to aim the hose at them. Okay, the bike was a bit loud. The guy he’d bought it from had reamed the baffles out to make it louder. Julian hadn’t bothered to change it yet.

Would Brick hear the sound and wonder if his old Kings buddies were in the ’hood? So as not to spook him, Julian pulled into a small strip of land that served as a common area for the neighborhood. It was flooded from a recent storm, so no one was there at the moment. There was a swing set, kiddie play area, and benches, all surrounded by a couple of inches of water. More importantly, there was cover in the form of evergreens. He tucked the bike behind a copse of trees, and he and Mollie continued down the sidewalk toward Brick’s temporary residence.

He’d worn his nicer jeans and a shirt that didn’t look as though it had been washed and tucked back into a bag umpteen times. “We’re your average couple walking
down the sidewalk looking for an address,” he said as Mollie anxiously came up beside him. He locked his fingers with hers and flashed her a smile. “Now we can hold hands.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ve gone way beyond hand-holding. They say you can’t go back.” But her fingers tightened on his.

“We could move forward.”

“That would be a bad idea.”

“It didn’t feel like such a bad idea last night.” He bent his finger and traced circles on her palm. “In fact, it feels like a very good idea.”

She paused, turning toward him. “Don’t tempt me.” It wasn’t the flippant phrase but a true request. Her eyes searched his. “I can’t … shouldn’t …”

He brushed the back of his knuckles against her cheek. “All right,
querida
.”

She gave him a tremulous smile, then looked beyond him. Her expression changed to the determined one he’d seen at the OKC bar. “That’s it.”

He also slipped out of the deeper moment they’d shared and into work mode. “Okay, here’s how we’re going to play it. You’ll go to the front door and knock, like you’d have done without me. I’m going around the back in case he decides to take an exit strategy. If he’ll talk to you, I’ll come around to the front.”

She pushed her hair back from her face. “All right.” Then she was off, no doubt thinking her sister might be in that house.

Julian doubted it, but they might at least find the answer to her whereabouts. He casually wandered around the side. The backyard was small with a privacy fence, which worked well for his purposes. He heard Mollie knocking and identifying herself, calling out Brick’s name as he opened the door to a small screened-in porch. Someone was moving inside the house, and Julian ducked behind a potted tree. Through the leaves he watched a man who matched Brick’s picture grab his wallet and sneak toward the back door like a woman’s illicit lover.

The man slunk out, closed the door, and met the wall as Julian bent his arm and shoved him against it. “Mikey, what, you afraid of a girl?”

“Fuck are you?” he asked, though his fear made that tough voice tremble. “You
with the Kings?”

“Nope, not with any of the clubs. You know who I am with? That nice lady out front who’s been trying to find her sister. A woman who was last seen in your company. And you know who’s with
me
?” He lifted his shirt. “A suppressed Glock Gen 4 and the skill to use it from distances up to two thousand yards. That was documented, by the way, in a confirmed kill in Afghanistan. My ninety-fifth kill. Good times.” He flashed Brick a cold smile. “So how about we let that nice lady in and have a chat.” It wasn’t a question.

He pushed Brick inside the house and cleared it to make sure no one else was in residence, his hand still holding Mike’s at a tendon-stretching angle.

“I don’t want any trouble here,” he said in a strained voice. “This is my uncle’s place.”

“You cooperate, and we won’t break so much as a toothpick. Or an appendage.” Julian ushered Brick to the front and opened the door, where a surprised Mollie took them in. “Come on in. Mikey here would be happy to talk to you.” He gave his arm a jerk, and Brick hissed in pain.

“Come in,” he growled.

Mollie gave Julian such a hopeful look that it killed him to shake his head. Di wasn’t there. He steered them to the Formica table next to the kitchen. A pat down revealed a bulky hunting knife at Brick’s waistband. After tossing it onto the counter, Julian gestured for the man, who was definitely built like his nickname, to sit. Since Julian used his Glock as a pointing device, the man continued to cooperate.

“Where is she?” Mollie dove right in, even before Brick’s ass hit the chair. “Where’s Di? The Kings said you left with her.”

Brick made a sound like a deflating tire. “Yeah, right.” Then his eyes bulged. “Wait a minute. You talked to the Kings?”

“Scotch, who gave me the runaround. And Billy Bob, who was going to meet me … and never showed. But you’re the one sure lead I have. I know you were with her.”

He gave her an admiring look. “And you’re still alive. I’m amazed.” His beady-eyed gaze shifted to Julian. “Or did you have him with you?”

Brick didn’t seem to know about the takedown the other night. “Most of it she did by herself,” Julian said. “That’s what you made her do by taking her sister.”

“I didn’t
take
her.” Brick’s demeanor went from belligerent to beaten. “I loved Birdy.”

The fact that he’d used the word in the past tense didn’t escape Mollie. “Loved? And don’t call her Birdy. Her name is Diana. What happened to her? What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. Well, I guess it started with me. Or her, really. Whenever she got high, she flirted with the other patches. And when I was high, I got a little crazy over it.”

“You hurt her,” Mollie whispered.

“I hurt one of the other patches. He was manhandling her, saying how I ought to share her. I was a new patch, but he was treating me like a fucking prospect. So I pulled a knife on him.” Brick unbuttoned his shirt, and she gaped at the raw meat of his chest. “They burned off my Kings tattoo. That’s what they do when they kick you out. And you know what else they do? They take all your shit. Your weapons. Your bike. And your ol’ lady.”

Mollie had held in her gasp at the sight of his ruined skin, but she let it out at that revelation. “They still have her?”

Brick’s expression became wary. “Look, I can’t say anything else. All I know is I left without her.”

She grabbed his shirt, her face right in his. “You
left
her there with those cretins?
You loved her but you left her?
” Her eyes glistened with tears.

Julian came up behind her, slid his arm over her collarbone, and gently pulled her back. He didn’t want her that close to the guy. She still railed at Brick. “How
could
you?”

“It’s the way it works, lady. You saw those guys. Would you go up against them?”

“Yes. I would and I did.” She pointed at Julian. “He did. He went up against them for a woman he didn’t even know, and you left behind a woman you profess to love.”
The pain and passion of her words tore at Julian. He felt the betrayal and abandonment right along with her. The military credo was “No man left behind.” SEALs took it to heart—and soul. Dead or alive, they always brought their comrades out of a situation.

“I had no choice!” Brick screamed back. His eyes were wet, too. “They were going to kill me. They took me out to some range and told me to run while they shot at me in the dark. You think I was in any position to get Birdy? They didn’t expect me to survive, but I did. Took a bullet to my calf, but I did. If they ever see me, they’ll finish me.”

“Don’t call her Birdy!” Mollie screamed. The strain was showing big-time.

Julian pulled her into his embrace. “Mollie’s been watching the Oklahoma City club for a while and hasn’t seen any sign of Di. Where might they keep her?”

“They might … trade her.” His face went pale, and he muttered, “Not to Chicago. Please, not Chicago.”

“What’s in Chicago?”

Brick shook his head. “I tell you anything else, they’ll kill me. And I’m not ready to die.”

Julian slammed his gun on the table. “Die now or later.”

“Go ahead, shoot me. I’d rather die by your bullet than by anything they’d do.” He gestured toward his chest. “They enjoyed this. They laughed and got high while I screamed in agony. If I send you to any of their chapter clubhouses, anyplace associated with them, I’m dying a long, gruesome death.” He grabbed Julian’s gun, still in his grip, and placed it to his temple.

Hell. If a death threat wouldn’t work, nor Mollie’s tearful and angry pleas, nothing would. Risk, their team’s interrogator, could probably extract information from him, but he wasn’t here.

Someone else was, though, knocking at the door. “Hey, Steve, you all right in there? I heard a woman yelling.”

“It’s one of the neighbors,” Brick whispered. “Steve’s my uncle.”

Julian put his gun away and escorted Mollie to the door. The neighbor gaped as
they strode out as casual as could be, giving the older man a polite nod. Let Brick explain it. They needed to figure out their next step.

Mollie held it together until they reached the bike. Then she buried her face against his chest and lost it. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and as he soothed her, he had to surreptitiously make sure his gun wasn’t visible. Even though he had the proper permit for conceal and carry, Julian didn’t feel like explaining anything to the cops.

She choked back another sob. “He said he loved her and he left her there with those … those …”

“Dude doesn’t even know what love is. If he did, he wouldn’t have left her.”

“People say they love you and then they leave. My mom always told Di and me that she loved us, but she kept using. I can remember Dad tucking us in and saying he loved us, and he left. Di left me, and I know she loves me. My granddad thinks love is about being tough and letting someone who needs you go. I don’t understand. Maybe I have some skewed idea of what love is supposed to be.”

She probably didn’t understand, and she would never let anyone get close enough for her to find out. Especially him, since in her eyes he’d cut ties with his family. “We’ll find her,
querida
. We’ll find her.”

He didn’t like making promises like that, but she was breaking his heart. He stroked her back and whispered to her in Spanish. She felt small and vulnerable in his arms. As strong as he knew she was, she needed comfort. Touch. Needed to feel safe. He sensed it in the way she’d moved into his body last night as they slept, clinging to him at one point when maybe her own dreams taunted her.