CHAPTER TWENTY
Healing
Rio—
“How’re you feelin’?” Zig asks when I take a stool at the bar and wave Blue over.
“Give me an Irish Coffee,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair. It’s the only part of my body that doesn’t hurt. Glancing in the new mirror we hung behind the bar, I take in the damage. The swelling around my eye and cheek has gone down, but the bruising has turned an ugly purple and yellow.
Thank God my nose wasn’t broken, but after a trip to the ER and a scan, I found out I’ve got two fractured ribs. There’s not much I can do except take it easy and pop pain killers.
Unfortunately, I can’t ride for a while.
“Aren’t you supposed to see Shelby today?” Zig asks.
“I canceled. No way in hell do I want her seeing this.” I point to my face.
He chuckles. “Guess not.”
“Last thing I want to do is give her the impression this is what the MC life is all about.” I take a sip of hot coffee.
“Isn’t it?” Zig asks with a grin.
Swiveling on my barstool, I take in the clubhouse. We’ve done a lot of remodeling, turning the big metal shed into a nice place, with build outs for bedrooms, a kitchen, chapel, and a real nice big open main area with a big screen tv, sofas, and chairs, and a pool table and bar. We even put in a second floor with two big masters for the President and the VP. Four other bedrooms are on the main floor toward the back.
It's all really coming together.
The Saints’ Garage opened, and the boys have already had some business, but it being Sunday, it’s closed.
I pop a pain pill and chase it with my coffee. “Want to take a ride with me, VP?”
“Where do you want to go?”
Shrugging, I stand. “Don’t care. Just need to get out of here for a while and get some air.”
We walk out to one of the pickups, and Zig slides behind the wheel.
“Where to?”
“Just drive,” I mutter, trying to get comfortable in the seat, adjusting the backrest.
“How ‘bout we head toward town and drive by the garage?”
“Sure.”
The early morning air is cooler than it’s been all week, and I power down the window.
Zig pulls out on the highway and looks over at me. “How’d Shelby take it when you canceled on her?”
I sigh. “She was fine. I told her some business came up I had to take care of. We’re going to try again next Sunday.”
“Your face should be healed by then.”
“Hope so.”
We head through the pecan grove and come upon Sanchez’s place. I spot him sitting on his porch, motion Zig to slow down. “Turn in here.”
Parking, we climb from the truck and close the doors.
“Morning, Eduardo,” I call. “Just passing by and thought we’d stop and say hello.”
“Come on up. Have a coffee with me. I just brewed a fresh pot.” He gets up and bangs on the screen door. “Maria, bring two more mugs.”
Zig and I each take a seat, and Eduardo returns to his chair.
His wife hurries out with our coffee, nods with a smile and retreats.
I take a sip. It’s rich and smooth. “That’s good.”
Eduardo tilts his head. “What happened to your face, my friend?”
“Pulled over with a nail in my tire. Man in a van stopped to help, then someone jumped me from behind. Hit me over the head. I woke up out in the desert, beat to shit. Luckily, my crew was able to find me.”
Zig jumps in. “You ever heard of a company called Right Way Plumbing?”
“No, senor. Why?”
“That’s what the guy’s shirt said, but we haven’t been able to find a trace of any company by that name,” I mutter.
Eduardo narrows his eyes. “Who do you think he was?”
“They. I’m sure there were more than one. Had to be.”
“What happened to your motorcycle?” he asks.
“Stolen,” Zig says. “We tracked Prez’s phone to the spot, but all we found was his cracked phone on the shoulder. No sign of his bike.”
“You got any ideas?” Eduardo asks.
“We spotted another MC around the area earlier. The Devil Kings. You ever seen them around here?” I sip my coffee, watching Eduardo’s reaction to my question.
“No. Only riders I’ve seen have been you.”
I nod, frustrated with our lack of information.
“Who are these guys?” Eduardo asks.
“No one you want to mess with,” Zig replies.
“As far as we knew, they weren’t in this state. We’re trying to figure out what they’ve been doing here.”
“And you think they had something to do with the guys who jumped you and took your bike?” Eduardo asks.
“I do. Just need to put the pieces together.” I take a sip of my coffee. “So, how’s the wedding planning coming along?”
Eduardo grins. “I try to leave that to my wife. They don’t need my input, just my wallet.”
I grin. “Guess so. Where are you holding it?”
“Right here. Going to set up an aisle and chairs between the rows of trees. They plan to string little white lights in the pecan trees. I’m sure it will be pretty. We’ll have a big tent set up for the reception dinner and dancing. Maria hired a wedding planner. She’s guaranteed us it will all be beautiful.”
“Sounds like it.”
“You should come. All of your club. And of course, bring a date.”
“We couldn’t do that.” I shake my head. “It’s your daughter’s big day.”
“I insist. There will be plenty of room, and I owe you for saving my groves. If you hadn’t stopped to help, the entire place might’ve gone up in flames.”
Zig gives me the side-eye, like coming to this wedding is the last thing he wants to do.
I polish off my coffee and stand. “It’s been good to see you again. Do me a favor and keep an eye out for anyone suspicious.”
“You mean the… What did you call them? The Devil Kings?”
“Yeah. Let me know if you see them.”
“Will do. And think about joining us on the 14 th . The invitation stands.”
“Thanks, Eduardo.” I shake his hand. “Take care.”
Zig and I stroll to the truck and head out.
When we’re on the highway, Zig looks over at me. “You’re not seriously considering going to that wedding, are you?”
“Maybe,” I reply, if for no other reason than an excuse to dance with Shelby. Plus, I’d get to see her all dolled up.
“How many pain pills did you take today?” Zig gives me a side look.
“Shut up and drive.”
Zig heads toward town.
“You hungry?” he asks.
I glance at the clock on the dash. “Guess it is lunchtime.”
“Got a preference?”
“Is that diner open on Sundays?”
“Let’s find out.”
We pass Blitzy’s on the way, and I figure it’s a good backup choice.
Zig navigates to the main drag and pulls to the curb. He looks over at me as he shifts into park. “You doin’ okay, boss?”
My hand is on my side. “I’m fine.”
He follows me inside, and we find a booth by the windows.
The same waitress we had last time comes over, sliding two menus on the table. “Boy, have you shaken things up around here.”
“You want to elaborate, darlin’?” I press.
She fills our cups as she gossips. “Well, everyone in town is talking about it—how the cops have backed way off. I got a speeding ticket the other day, and he didn’t even give me the third degree.”
“Have they been around here?” I lift my chin toward the counter and the register. “Lookin’ for any envelopes from Dolly?”
“Not once.” She glances back. “Oops. Here she comes. I’ll be by to take your order in a minute.”
Our waitress hurries off, and Dolly approaches. She slides an envelope on the table.
“Didn’t expect you to be by today. The other guy usually comes on Mondays.” She locks eyes with me.
I take the envelope and set it aside. “We came in for some lunch, that’s all.”
“Well, now you can save your man a trip.”
“I’ll tell him. How’s business?”
“It’s been good. There’s a real change in the air. Everyone in town can feel it. Guess that’s all thanks to you.”
“You had problems?” I ask.
“Deputy Carson has been in. He never leaves a tip, but he hasn’t hassled any of my girls, actually pays for his meals, and never hits me up for a cut of business. I’ll take his glares over what we had.”
“Good to know.”
She leans forward, her hands on the table. “Saw another group of you guys in town, but they had different patches. You know anything about that?”
“Where’d you see them?”
“Out at the gas station off the interstate couple of days ago.” She studies my face. “What happened to you? You okay?”
“Yeah. You ever heard of a company called Right Way Plumbing?” I ask.
“There’s no company by that name in this town.”
I nod. “You still got my number?”
“Yes, sir.” She pats her apron pocket. “Keep it close.”
“Call me if you see that other club again.”
“Sure. They got a name?”
“The Devil Kings. You see ‘em, steer clear, understand? You do not want to mess with those guys.”
She taps the table. “The meatloaf is good today.”
I watch her back as she walks away, then look at Zig. “The day she saw them might have been the day they jumped me.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” He sips his coffee. “Big Ed is still in charge, from what I’ve been able to find out from the Evil Dead MC in California. They’ve been on the outs with them for years, and I’m starting to think they had something to do with Taz’s disappearance years ago. They offered to help us out if we need.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Last thing I need is to owe the Evil Dead a marker.”
“I get that. Still, the offer stands. I talked with their VP, Crash. He took it to his president. Guy by the name of Cole.”
“You ever had any dealings with the Evil Dead, Zig?”
“Nope, other than seeing some of ‘em at Daytona Bike Week a few years ago. But when we were back east while you were locked up, I heard tell the VP from the Nevada chapter—a guy named Trick—had a run in with the mafia. They say he flew all the way to New York to make a deal with Franco Santorini, the head of the Santorini Crime Family. Heard he walked bold as brass right into the Italian Club in the Bronx and asked for a meet. That takes balls, man. ‘Course that could just be a rumor.”
I rub my hands together and stare out the window. “We’ve got to get some more guys. There are only six of us. That’s not enough to go to war.”
“There’s a small club in El Paso. Maybe we could patch them over,” Zig muses.
“I’m not up for a trip to El Paso right now. You want to make a run down there and check them out?”
“Sure.”
Movement out the window catches my eye, and I watch Deputy Carson pull his squad car over and start writing a ticket.
I grin. “Let’s have some fun.”
Zig follows me outside, and we stroll over to him.
He glares at us but doesn’t say a word.
I fold my arms. “Rip it up.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Rip up the ticket.”
“It’s already in the system.”
Taking a step toward him, I give him a murderous look. “Maybe I need to take a ride by your house tonight. See if we can find any more photos of you.”
He deletes what he’s typing into his handheld device, climbs into his car, and roars out.
Zig grins. “That was fun. We should do it more often.”