Chapter 6 Bodies On The Ground
Bodies On The Ground
Havoc
How has my quiet life in a small town become filled with drug dealers and bombs?
Bishop’s dogs came in handy.
And that’s about the only good thing I can find about the last few weeks.
I take a pull on my beer and flip the steak over on the barbecue. There’s a chill in the air, but the snow we had a few days ago didn’t stay on the ground.
“Dad.” Creed walks outside carrying a bowl of salad and rolls. “Can I have some friends over tomorrow night?”
“Who?”
“Just some other guys from Chaos. I thought we could have a few beers and talk about…” He glances down at the deck.
“Sure. But their parents have to drop off and pick up.”
“We know the rules. None of us needs our brains splattered on the road. Or to hurt someone else.”
My kid actually listens on occasion. “Good to know.”
“You should let me go in undercover.”
I love that my kid wants to help. “That’s not an option. They know you’re my kid.”
“That’s why I would be perfect. The rebellious kid who's out to do stupid stuff right under his father’s nose.”
No one in their right mind would believe that Creed is rebellious, even though he rides a motorcycle and has a tattoo. “Not happening. You’re a straight-A student.”
“No one in class knows I’m a nerd.”
That isn’t an accurate description of him either. “Not happening. We just buried your friend.” Watching what Berzerker is going through…no. Just no.
“Yeah. He died. Now, I want to get his murderers and make them pay. You want the exact same thing.”
I do. “We’ve already got it handled.”
Creed bangs the salad bowl down onto the table. “Like Vandal, Torque, and Ryot are more mature than I am.”
They probably aren’t. Though I’m counting on them being mature. Vandal certainly showed that he can handle himself in a crisis recently. “Vandal can handle himself. And the others are getting trained.” I pull our steaks off the grill and set them on the plates I had waiting.
All the outdoor lights pop on next door as the sun starts to set. There are two moving trucks and a dozen men moving things inside.
“Do you think the new neighbors will be moving in soon?”
I set the plates down and sit down across from Creed. “It sure looks like it.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“No.” Which is really irritating. “All the records show is that it was bought by a trust.”
"Erlein said that it was a guy in a fancy suit and car that came for the initial walkthrough, but then after that, they were contacted by a law office from Urbium. I hope we don’t get some snobby rich people as neighbors.”
Does it surprise me that Creed questioned Erlein? Not at all. I probably would have if I hadn’t had so many distractions. “If they become an issue, we’ll ensure that they move.”
Creed grins.
The growl of a bike pulling into my driveway drowns out the sounds of the movers next door. I can tell each one of my brothers by the sound of their bikes. With the exception of Vandal, because he’s got dozens of them.
“What’s Bishop doing here?” Creed sets down his fork.
It seems my son knows them, too. “Don’t know.” He only got back from helping Rogue rescue Dylan a few days ago. We already did a debrief of the situation, so that’s not the reason for the unexpected visit. I stand up and walk down to the fence.
Bishop climbs off his bike and walks over to me. “Deacon’s coming home.”
That doesn’t sound good. Not at all. Is he coming home in a casket? “What happened?”
“A friendly fire accident on their way back into base from a mission. Some stupid boot shot him in the leg.”
“In the leg?”
“He was aiming for the chest. And thankfully, he was as bad a shot as he was at telling friend from foe. Deacon was in uniform, too.” Bishop shakes his head.
This is about as emotional as Bishop gets. “Want to come in for a beer and a steak?”
“No. I just wanted to let you know because I might need time off to take the boy to therapy. They haven’t told me how extensive the damage is, but it’s enough to send him stateside for therapy and further evaluation.”
“There’s probably a good prognosis.” Or else they would have put him out on full disability.
“Yeah.” Bishop has got to be terrified. That’s a call no father ever wants to get.
“Come have that beer, anyway.” I open the fence door farther and wait for him to walk inside.
His face is enough to reinforce just why Creed isn’t going to be going undercover anytime soon. When he’s eighteen, we’ll talk about things that might kill him. But until then, it’s my job and all of my brothers’ to protect the children in our care.
***
“Dad,” Creed shoves six slices of bacon onto his plate.
“Yeah?” I drop a handful of cheese onto his six-egg omelet. The boy has a hollow leg to fill every morning.
“Can I take my bike today?”
We just finished building his new bike together, and every chance he gets, Creed likes to show the thing off. “It’s going to be cold today.”
“I’ve got time to throw my leathers on.”
His teachers would just love him wearing them to class. “Did you check the weather?”
“There’s only a small chance of rain this afternoon.”
“Which could do what?”
“Turn into black ice. But it’s like less than a ten percent chance of it even raining. If it rains, I could call you for a pickup.” And he doesn’t have enough experience riding to attempt riding in those conditions, even with it at minimal levels, as it's predicted to be.
Creed’s thought about this, which I appreciate. “Today is going to be pretty busy at the club.”
“What about one of the prospects?”
“They’re busy moving into their new apartments.” We were supposed to wait until Rogue got back from his elopement, but there were too many dead bodies to wait.
“Fine. I’ll take the truck then.” He chomps down on a piece of bacon.
Like taking a tricked-out truck is such a punishment. Teenagers, even my level-headed son, are so dramatic.
I slide his omelet onto his plate and take a sip of coffee.
Creed lets out a wolf whistle. “She’s fine. If she’s the neighbor, I’m all in.”
Huh? I turn towards the window that looks out over the new neighbor’s house.
Standing next to an expensive but elegant foreign car is a stunning woman.
Her dark, silky hair falls down around her shoulders in soft waves that probably took hours to attain.
It’s the tilt of her nose that makes her even less appealing.
Definitely snooty. “That woman would be a terrible neighbor.”
“But pretty to look at.” Creed has a lot to learn before a woman tears his heart out.
“Never trust a pretty woman.”
“Who wants to trust them? Seriously, Dad, look at her.”
I’m looking and not liking what I see at all.