Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
SAMMIE
After Deuce left, I showered and tried to clear my head and concentrate on the opening tonight and not Deuce’s words promising a possible future. Past experience told me not to get my hopes up, but he seemed so sincere and almost angry when I tried to let him off the hook and give him an out.
My phone vibrates on the bathroom counter. I swipe at the message and freeze in place.
Viper: I know you have what I want.
He’s bluffing, just trying to play mind games with me.
Sammie: I told you I haven’t found anything.
I have to stay strong.
Viper: The Kings have torn that whole place apart. You must’ve found it, so don’t fuckin’ lie to me.
Sammie: Well, you’re wrong.
My heart speeds up, and I’m glad we’re texting.
Viper: Even if I say, if you don’t give me that flash drive, I’ll burn the place to the ground?
Sammie: Then neither one of us will get it.
Viper: Don’t play with me, bitch. I want that flash drive, or Deuce and the rest of the Kings are dead along with that shit bar. Then I’ll make sure your old man suffers long and hard.
I don’t doubt Viper would do it all. Not for one minute. Could I really take a chance with my father’s life, or the Kings’ lives, or the success of the bar?
Sammie: You know I can’t come to you.
Viper: Tonight’s the big grand opening, right?
Sammie: Yes.
Viper: Then it should be easy for you to sneak out. Ten o’clock. Behind the dumpsters. You hand that flash drive over to the prospect, and I’ll leave the Kings alone.
Sammie: And my father?
Viper: Yeah, him too.
The little bubbles disappear, and my breathing slows as I reread the texts. Logically, I know he has no way of knowing I have the flash drive, but it doesn’t matter because Viper is doing what he does best. Spreading fear and intimidation.
If giving him what he wants saves the Kings and my father, it’s worth it.
I contemplate telling Deuce about Viper’s texts, but what would that accomplish?
Nothing but more violence. I’d hand over the flash drive to the prospect, and Viper would go back to Philly.
Deuce would never know because I refuse to take any deadly chances.
Not even in the gambling state of New Jersey.
The money is another issue. Having Deuce in my room every night with the garbage bag directly under my bed fills me with guilt.
Irrational probably, but the way he left this morning made me believe he wanted something lasting.
Me telling him about the money would prove I trusted him.
After all, he said in the very beginning, the money is mine no matter who found it.
By the time I’m dressed, my mind is made up. I’ll tell Deuce about the money now and get it out of the way before all the commotion of tonight’s opening. By tomorrow, Viper would have his precious flash drive, and Deuce and I could figure out our future with five hundred thousand dollars.
I head to the door and stop. My back stiffens at the sound of yelling.
I crack the door and peek around the doorframe. Deuce and Ace facing off in the hall. Both alpha males, equal size, pissed off. Not good.
“I know that look,” Ace sneers. “Even you think something’s off with that bitch.”
“I thought I told you not to call her that.” Deuce thumps Ace on the shoulder, and he rears back.
“You wanna throw down over a bitch?” Ace opens his arms wide, daring Deuce. “This chick is doin’ a number on you, and she adds too many problems we don’t need.”
“I get it, she’s a huge complication,” Deuce agrees.
I grip the doorframe.
“Then cut her loose. The Kings can’t afford another fuck-up, and neither can you. ‘Cause, believe me, if you fuck up again because of a woman, none of them are coming back, and the Kings are dead.”
Deuce lowers his head. “I know.”
My heart slows, then thumps hard.
“Then stay the fuck away from her ‘cause after all this fuckin’ work, I refuse to let you piss it away for some hot piece of tail. She’s unwanted baggage we don’t need.”
I’ve been called many things, but never unwanted baggage. I wait for Deuce to jump all over Ace, or at least come to my defense, but . . .
Deuce huffs out a breath. “You’re right.”
It’s clear, I’m nothing but a burden, something to be cast aside.
Ace points at Deuce. “You better take care of it, like right now.”
“Don’t worry, my loyalty will always stand with the club and my brothers.”
The final nail in my coffin.
They tap fists, and what started off as a fight between Deuce and Ace turns into them united against me.
It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, because earlier I gave Deuce an easy out while we were still in bed. Why couldn’t he have just been honest? I gave him every opportunity. I even gave him the right words, but he denied them all, telling me we had a future.
When would I be anything but an inconvenience to a man? When would I learn?
I slowly close the door, make my way to the couch and slump down onto the sagging cushions. I sit there for a long time thinking, until I come up with my own plan. One that has nothing to do with Viper, the flash drive, Deuce, the Kings or even my father.
Deuce would finally get his wish. I’d sell him The End.
In two weeks, I’d be free of the monitor, then free period.
I’d take the money in the garbage bag and leave Jersey for good.
With five hundred thousand dollars, I could start over anywhere—California, Florida or anyplace far away from Atlantic City, New Jersey.
And when I got there, I would make a life for myself without any unwanted baggage.
Tonight, I’d hand over the flash drive to the Dogs’ prospect without an ounce of guilt for not telling Deuce. Why should I feel remorse? To him I was a nuisance, an annoyance.
DEUCE
The conversation with Ace replayed over and over in my brain no matter what I did. All the shit I had to get done before tonight, yet I kept circling back to Ace’s words and warnings.
Sammie has a history with the Dogs.
Sammie could be a spy for the Dogs.
The first time I saw her, she was with Viper.
And she wasn’t afraid of him.
All valid.
The worst part of all this is the doubt that starts in my gut. Reliving our conversations and still not coming up with any proof either way. Sammie admitted working with the Dogs, in the past, and her father’s part in their operation. Unless that was all to throw me off their track.
The first day in the office, she didn’t show fear going toe-to-toe with Viper, but Sammie is a ballsy in-your-face woman and probably doesn’t have the good sense to be afraid.
I said the words Ace wanted to hear, but I couldn’t make my gut believe them.
The same feeling that warned me against her also makes it impossible to cut her loose.
I’ll get through the opening tonight, then iron this shit out tomorrow.
Ask the hard questions and see exactly where she stands—where we stand.
I torture myself with these thoughts right up to our church meeting an hour before the opening.
“Ididn’t think we’d ever see this day.” Ace raises his shot glass, making eye contact with each of us as he looks around our new church room.
We’re still seated around the plywood table with the cast-off chairs, but at least we have a separate room with a steel safe sunk under the floor boards, and a locked keypad on the door that promises ultimate security.
Along with two flatscreens showing every angle of the club, both inside and out.
Fist and Ace even managed to build a safe room in the basement, complete with padded walls, a metal chair over a drain, and a steel door similar to the one on this room, only thicker. Fist is meticulous when it comes to soundproofing and clean-up.
“I sure never imagined it when I was delivering pizzas.” Speed laughs.
Shady shakes his head. “Still can’t believe you were working for Pizza King.”
“And I can’t fuckin’ believe you were cleaning up cum at Sinners,” Speed fires back, then points at Fist. “And this fucker getting caught with his pants around his ankles ballin’ the police chief’s wife.”
As usual, we’ve gotten way off-track, so I stand and raise my glass. “Here’s to the Kings. Now and forever. Nothing stopping us.”
We all raise our glasses, and Ace’s gaze holds mine for an extra second. Shit, I gotta shake this paranoia and keep my head in the game.
I sit down, and for the next half hour, we go over the details for the opening just to make sure everything’s on point. The doors open at nine, and when we’re all satisfied we’ve tied up all the loose ends, we file out and into the main room of the bar.
Ace flanks me. “You and me are good, right?”
“You gotta ask?”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.” His serious tone surprises me. “Back in the day, it was easy to blame you for all the shit that went down, but I could’ve and should’ve stepped in, and I didn’t. That’s why I came down so hard on you before.”
“I know.”
“You and me are different.” Ace flicks his hand between us. “I don’t really give a shit about people, but you do. No matter how hard you try to play it off, deep down you actually care.”
The driving beat of Metallica fills the room, and I hold out my fist. “Let’s tear this shit up tonight.”
Ace returns the gesture then heads out front to check on the new bouncers he hired away from Harrah’s, while I head for the bar to make sure everything’s in place.
SAMMIE
The pounding bass from the bar filters through the floor of my apartment, and I check my watch for the hundredth time. Nine-forty-five. Fifteen more minutes. My gaze flicks to my ankle and then to the flash drive sitting innocently on the coffee table.
Viper would have what he wanted, the Kings would have their opening without any interference, and my father would be safe to breathe another day. A few heartbeats later, I stand, wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, pocket the flash drive and head for the door.
Then I scold myself. I’d survived a crazy home life and prison, so why was my heart beating in my throat?
Easy answer.
My head tells me I’m doing the right thing. Helping someone bad do something good, but my heart is another story. I want to run to Deuce, tell him about Viper’s threatening texts, share my worry, and ask for his help, but that isn’t an option anymore.
Zoning out, I concentrate on one step at a time.
The din from the bar rattles me for a second, but I focus on the door leading to the back lot, then the alley alongside the bar and finally behind the dumpsters.
I wedge myself between the two metal bins, feeling somehow protected, straining to hear the prospect’s Harley.
At five minutes after ten, I step out from between the dumpsters. I crane my neck toward the front of the bar, searching through the semi-darkness. Nothing. I swivel my head toward the back and—
“You got something for me?”
I jump, eek out a gasp, whip around and face a tall, skinny kid no older than me with his hand out palm side up.
“You’re with the Rabid Dogs?” The halogen security lights shadow his face.
Sensing my disbelief, he turns, displaying the prospect patch sewn onto his cut, then faces me.
“I didn’t hear your Harley.”
“No shit. Parked it down the block.” He shifts his feet, darting glances over his shoulder. “Give me what you got so I can get the fuck outta here.”
Can’t blame him being edgy in enemy territory. Good news for him—he can leave. Bad news for me—I’m a prisoner here for another two weeks.
His eyes track me as I reach into my jean pocket, pull out the flash drive and hand it to him. “Viper will keep his side of the deal?”
“I don’t know about any deal you made with Viper.” He holds up the USB stick. “Just came for this.”
I nod. Typical prospect answer. Patched members never shared privileged information with the underlings.
The kid turns and heads for the back lot with me following close behind. I can’t wait to get up to my room, burrow under the covers, and put this day and night behind me.
Two seconds later, a dark figure grabs the prospect by the shoulders and slams him up against the brick wall of the bar.
“Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?” The shadows shift, illuminating a face twisted in rage.