Chapter Nineteen
P at stood outside the hospital room as Bull finished talking to Dylan. The sheriff had woken up and was now recovering from a concussion and a gunshot wound to the leg. They hadn’t hit any major arteries, which made no sense. The cartel didn’t leave people alive.
The mother and daughter, the mechanic, and everyone along the way had died.
Outside of Carnage, there were several dead bodies.
Before Dylan was attacked, Bull had him looking into recent unexplained murders and deaths.
There were at least five other people, who were spotted coming and going through the town of Carnage.
Some details were hazy, but there were drugs linked to one woman. A potential kidnapping from another. All the murky details that spelled the cartel’s name right over it.
Bull came out of the hospital room and he looked glum. Rusty refused to sit this one out, even though the guy was pushing the limits of his wounds. He didn’t like sitting around on his ass, doing nothing.
“What’s the word?” Pat asked.
“He didn’t see,” Bull said. “He’d send Grace home for the night as he was looking into more of the suspicious deaths in the local area.
He was trying to find a link that would place them within Carnage at the time of the attack on Pat’s bike, the animal shelter, the garage, you name it.
He heard noise coming from outside. Didn’t think much of it.
A bunch of kids like to cause trouble even after Halloween.
He went out, his name was called, and then he said he woke up here.
Doesn’t even remember getting hit over the head or shot. ”
“And the security tapes have gone,” Pat said. That was the one part he didn’t like.
He looked toward Bull, who had this frown on his face, but it wasn’t his usual, pissed-off-with-the-world kind of frown, this was something else.
“What is it?”
“Someone knew about Dylan. Someone had to have watched the sheriff’s office, but why?” Bull asked. “It makes no sense.”
“Someone had to have known Dylan keeps his place locked up tight. Taking the security tapes suggests someone local,” Rusty said. “Someone who knows how Dylan operates.”
“You’re talking a potential spy within the club,” Pat said.
“There is that risk. Trust me, I don’t fucking like it, but it’s there.”
“We currently only have three prospects close to earning their patches. I know we have a couple of others who want to take the patch of Prospect and start earning their place.”
Yeah, Pat knew they had a sudden influx of young men and boys who wanted to join the club.
Watching fucking television shows, thinking they knew how shit was going to be.
The club had no choice but to put all their prospects through rigorous tests.
They had to be trusted, be willing to have their backs, the works.
Sure, they loved the life and the pussy, but it was about the club, the brothers having each other’s backs.
That was what was important. Nothing else.
Pat still didn’t know if the three they had now, had what it took. Boyd, Jake, and Gaz.
Gaz had been with the club the longest, but only by a couple of months.
He was probably the closest to making patch, as he’d been sniffing around the club when he was ten years old.
The kid’s mom was a piece of ass. She didn’t know who Gaz’s father was, only that she had the kid before she came sharing her pussy with the club. No one in the club was Gaz’s father.
As for Jake and Boyd, the truth was, they were good men, but were still pretty boys. They had good family at their backs, and he sometimes got the feeling they were just entering the world to rebel.
None of the prospects had any reason to step out on the club. Apart from Gaz.
Pat couldn’t recall seeing his mom around the club in a very long time. “If we’re going to question them, Gaz goes first.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Grant asked. “Are you serious? Have you ever thought it might be someone else?”
“Like who?” Bull asked.
“Like the fucker whose brother started all this shit in the first place!” They were all talking in hushed tones, but Grant was clearly getting tired of that.
“Ranford?” Bull asked. “No. He’s got issues with the cartel. We all know this.”
“Yeah, and has anyone noticed that guy seems to be able to come and go without anyone fucking knowing where he is?”
Pat looked toward Grant and frowned. “He has a point.”
“Since when are the two of you on the same page?” Rusty asked.
“Since right fucking now,” Grant said.
Pat looked toward Bull. “Ranford ... it makes sense. He was able to live right in Carnage without any of us knowing. That has to say something.”
Bull pursed his lips. “I don’t agree with it, and I think we should look close to home as well. The cartel uses people.”
“Exactly. None of us are looking toward where Ranford last was, and we’re looking at our own people.
Sure, Boyd, Jake, and Gaz are fucking new, but that is the point.
We turn on them, we might as well be turning on each other.
We all have to prospect and prove ourselves.
Fuck me, I have proven myself time and time again, and you still fucking question me. ” Grant pointed at his chest.
“Rusty, you and I are going to grab Gaz, and we’ll start talking to the prospects.”
“Don’t you think you’re acting a little too fast? A little too hasty?” Grant asked.
“No. Dylan is down, and he was one of our lines of defense. Now, we have nothing but an injured man and a building that has burnt down. We no longer have time to play games. Do as I say, brother, do as I say.” Bull gave Grant a pointed look.
Pat looked from Bull to Grant then back again, waiting, and Grant sighed. “Fine.”
Bull and Rusty left, leaving him once again with Grant. “Isn’t this fun?”
“You’re being sarcastic,” Pat said.
Grant laughed. “Are you only just getting that? Where the fuck are we supposed to go to figure out Ranford’s last known location?”
Pat smiled. “I know a guy.”
“You know a guy?”
“Yeah, I do.” He turned on his heel, leaving Grant with no choice but to follow behind him.
“Are you going to tell me who this guy is?” Grant asked.
“Nope.”
They took the elevator and headed down toward the main floor.
“So, have you read any good books lately?” Grant asked.
“This is your attempt at small talk?”
“Aria tells me I need to get better at it. That I can’t use my sarcasm and wit the whole time.” He shrugged. “I can try, though, right?”
Pat was used to Grant’s overall bad attitude. Ever since he had gotten with Aria, it wasn’t quite as bad. Although, Bull and Grant’s relationship seemed to be the same, but with a little more brotherly love.
“I’ve not read any good books.”
“What about television shows?”
“How about if I see Aria, I tell her you’re making a lot of progress?”
Grant shrugged. “If you want to, but you also have to tell Lidia to keep her shit together, and you can’t tell her I’m trying.”
Lidia and Aria were the best of friends.
“I’ve not seen Lidia since Halloween night,” Pat said, with a frown. “Now that is strange. Usually, she is riding my ass to find her a date. Have you seen her?”
Grant paused. “You know what ... no, I don’t think I have. I mean, I think she stopped by the club to see Rusty, but no.”
Pat pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number. No answer.
“We’re making a stop at Lidia’s place before we go to your mystery guy,” Grant said.
Gone was the sarcasm and playful attitude. Pat finally got to see the grown-up side of Grant. The side that was worried for his woman’s best friend. If anything happened to Lidia, Aria would break down.
He knew the two had troubles from time to time. Usually because Aria believed the lies, rather than going to Lidia to talk to her. Pat didn’t know all the details, just that the two women were able to make peace, and were always the best of friends.
He made his way toward his new bike, which he was still breaking in, and as he climbed onto the machine, he missed his old one. Until he could rely on this one, he had to take it easy.
Grant was out of the hospital parking lot, and Pat joined him, taking off toward where Lidia lived.
She resided in a small, nice neighborhood in a small house, which is why her last boyfriend attempted to move in.
Pat wasn’t exactly sure what she did for a living, but from what he knew, she worked from home.
Pat rarely came here unless he had to drop her off. Lidia kept asking him in for coffee. At the time, he thought it was because she had developed a crush, but he had been so wrong. Lidia did not have a crush on him. She wanted to be his friend because he looked so lonely—her words, not his.
Pat wasn’t lonely, but after learning that she just wanted to be friends, he opened up to her. By opening up, he accepted coffee and listened to her talk.
Her car was parked in the driveway. There was no other sign of trouble. Her curtains appeared to be open.
“Please to fucking God, do not let her be dead. Please, let her just be busy,” Grant said.
Pat agreed. He didn’t want Lidia dead. She talked a lot and wanted to find Mr. Right, but that didn’t mean she should die. Yes, she was annoying, but she was such a lovely woman—sweet, kind, and always seemed to be there.
Pat went to the door, but Grant was already there, banging on the hard wood. Pat looked around the street, wondering if anyone was watching.
Lidia didn’t answer right away. Grant looked toward him.
“Lidia, come on now, open up.” He slammed his palm flat on the wood.
There was no answer.
Grant moved toward one of the windows, and looked inside.
“Break down the fucking door.”