Chapter 25
False Allies
Thunder
“Are you ready, kid?” I asked Kyle as he sat across from me at the breakfast table. Another week had passed, and Kyle wasn’t so pale. His eyes were clear, but every now and again, he’d scratch one of his arms.
“No, but I’m going.” He was staring at the breakfast Chef had put in front of him, shifting the eggs around.
We all hounded Kyle to eat, but Chef took it to extremes.
He had no problem sitting next to the kid, staring him down.
“They’re going to make me sit in a circle.
” He raised his hand, waving. “Hi, my name is Kyle, and I’m an addict. ”
“Probably,” Scrub said, drinking his coffee. He’d walked into the clubhouse right before breakfast, but there was no doubt he’d crash when it was over. “Stands said it’s one of the best facilities in the area, and if they don’t treat you well, I’ll make her handle it. She’s scary.” He yawned.
I chuckled. He wasn’t lying. I could remember multiple times when Stands had stood in front of me, her pigtails behind her, as she read me the kid version of the riot act. “She’s giving you a chance?” I asked him.
“Nope. She caught me making phone calls and asked what was going on.” He scowled. “I guess she dated the doctor who’s on the board there. Called him and claimed her cousin needed help.”
“Tell her thank you for me. I really appreciate the opportunity.” Kyle never lifted his head.
“Fucking Bookie,” Slate said, sitting next to me. “If he hadn’t been a fucking asshole, Stands would never have walked out.”
“Just think.” I slapped Slate on the shoulder. “If she ever comes back, you’re going to get to grill him about his intentions.” I pointed at Scrub.
“My intentions are not good.” Scrub smirked. “At all.” We laughed, and Kyle visibly relaxed, until Chef set a brown paper bag next to his elbow.
“Lunch.” We all looked at him, waiting for some further explanation. “If they measure his macros, then I’ll leave it alone. Until then, he needs food if they’re going to make him talk.” Chef walked away, heading back into the kitchen.
“Is he always like that?” Kyle asked.
“No,” Slate was the first to answer. “He must see something in you.” He leaned forward, making sure Kyle didn’t look away. “A lot of us see something in you.” Slate knocked his knuckles against the table, and while I knew he was right, Kyle was clearly uncomfortable with the praise.
“I don’t want to let anyone down so I’m going, but no one should bet on me.”
“Too late,” Slate chuckled. “There’s already a bet on how many days you’re going to last.”
“I went with sixty.” Scrub slugged the rest of his coffee before standing. “Not long enough to make sobriety a habit.”
We could build him up, tell him exactly what he needed to hear, but he’d have to do the work. I’d buried my suspicions, but every time he downplayed himself, it made me wonder if he was strong enough to survive.
Kyle didn’t react to hearing about the bet, but I watched a boy start the transition into a man. His fingers curled into fists, but when he realized what he was doing, he quickly laid them flat on the table. His eyes were sharper, focused on what I thought might have been the future.
I made a show of checking my watch. We had a few minutes before we had to go, but I figured Kyle needed to get away from prying eyes. “Yo, VP?” I called down the table, and when Grizz leaned in my direction, I touched my watch.
***
“This is weird. I can’t remember the last time I sat in a car.” Grizz winced as he stretched out in the passenger seat of the club car.
“It’s been a while since I’ve gone for a ride.” I normally drove Liz around, and I didn’t consider the trip I’d taken to get Gerry moved an actual ride.
“Have you talked to Grease about getting a sidecar?” Grizz asked me.
“No. I’m not sure I’m comfortable enough letting Liz sit in one.”
“What’s it like to ride?” Kyle asked from the back seat as I passed the row of bikes parked outside the clubhouse doors. The prospect opened the gate, and we hit the road towards the medical complex in the center of town.
“Freedom,” Grizz and I said at the same time.
“There’s nothing like letting the wind hit your face as you’re cruising,” I said, making the right turn toward the highway. His program was near Liz’s rehab, and while I usually took the back streets with her, I wasn’t taking any chances that Kyle would jump from the moving car.
“The wind in your face on a bike is nothing compared to rolling with the windows down.” Grizz laughed.
I remembered when Grizz’s father had driven through the gates with his son in tow. “When did you get your first bike?” I asked him.
“My eighteenth birthday. Titan bought it the day after my father disappeared.”
I nodded, showing my support as I exited the highway. We weren’t far from the medical center, but each turn felt a little heavier than the previous one, and the cabin went quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
“Do you think I’ll ever be strong enough to ride a bike?”
I shot Grizz a look before I pulled into the parking spot.
Grizz turned around in the front seat, making sure he had Kyle’s attention. “I won’t go back on my word.” Neither one of them looked away. “I won’t do the work for you.”
Kyle nodded. “The last time I tried to get clean, it lasted six days. What if I never get there?” He exited the car before either of us could respond.
Grizz and I watched as he walked through the front door.
“Do you think he’s going to make it?” Grizz asked me.
“Yes, but only because the club won’t let him fail. I’m more concerned he’s going to relapse.”
Grizz’s phone rang, cutting the silence in the cabin. He shot me a look before he reached into his back pocket. “Why the fuck is Sabre calling? We just saw him at breakfast.” Bringing the phone up to his ear, he answered, not bothering to say hello.
I watched as his jaw tightened, not liking whatever Sabre was saying. “Yeah, like that’s not a fucking setup,” he said before hanging up. “The Lopezes are sitting in the tit show,” he said, dropping his phone in the cup holder.
“What the fuck do they want at nine o’clock in the morning?” I started the car and pulled out of the lot.
“They had to have scoped out the place. This is the only morning Count’s the early shift.”
“What’s the plan?” I asked Grizz. “I’m not armed.”
“Sabre’s meeting us there with a few brothers.”
The drive across town passed in silence. The tit show’s sign came into view, and when I pulled around to the back lot, the brothers were already waiting for us.
“About time,” Sabre said as we approached. “Here.” He handed Grizz a gun, and Zook held another out to me. “We figured you weren’t packing.”
“What’s the plan?” Grizz asked, tucking his into the back of his waistband.
“Count’s going to let us in through the back door. He said they’re sitting in the middle booth along the left side. It’s pretty clear they’re waiting for us to show.”
“Employees?”
“Only Amber and a bartender. Count sent everyone else home.”
The back door opened, and Count’s head peeked out. “Are you ready?”
The minute I stepped into the tit show, my head was on a swivel, but I kept coming up empty. It wasn’t until I stepped into the main room that I saw them, clearly sitting in the middle booth along the left side.
There were six of them, two on each side, dressed in suits with gaudy gold watches. Glasses lay scattered all over the table. Amber was dancing on the stage, and they weren’t even facing her direction.
The men were leaning over the table, murmuring to each other. When they heard our boots stomping on the tile, their heads shot up in our direction.
“You need to get some new girls, muchacho,” a man in a brown suit said, sitting in the middle of the booth. The other men followed his lead, laughing at his lame joke. He leaned back in the booth, spreading his arms wide against the top.
“You weren’t complaining the other night,” Amber huffed before rushing to the back.
“Don’t.” Sabre held his hand up, standing directly in front of their table. The rest of us flanked him on either side. “I have better fucking things to be doing.”
“Two kids in two years. Is she even tight anymore?” The men at the table laughed, smacking each other, only encouraging the leader to continue. “The first one is the banker’s. Is the second one even yours?”
Sabre slammed the table into the man’s stomach, pushing until the man gasped for air.
He let go, and the table fell back into place, only for him to shove it again.
“I was going to let you walk out of here, but your buddy over there didn’t know when to shut the fuck up.
” He held the eyes of the other five men.
“So, who’s going to tell me what Manny wants this time? ”
None of the cartel members spoke.
“What? You’re only big and bad when you’re running your fucking mouths?” Sabre reached behind him, pulling his gun from his waistband. He aimed directly at the leader’s forehead. “You’ve got one chance at this before I pull the trigger.”
Wreck said something in Spanish, spooking the leader. He started speaking rapid-fire Spanish, and while I couldn’t understand a word, his forehead shone with sweat under the lights.
“You deal with him,” Wreck deferred to Sabre, but I quickly searched Pretty’s face. His eyes narrowed at Wreck. This was one more piece Wreck had been hiding not only from him but from the club.
“My apologies, jefe,” the man said to Sabre, bringing his hands up into a praying position. “I lost myself for a second and will never speak badly about the banker’s wife.”
Sabre widened his stance, unimpressed.
“Manny wants to make a deal,” the leader talked fast. “He knows Diego is gone. Told him to leave you alone, but he became obsessed. Blonde.”
Grizz pulled out his gun, aiming at the man directly in front of him.
“He planned to come after you, but your man—blue spikes. He grows money, like on trees. Manny wants that. He’s willing to overlook Diego’s death.”
“Manny already has the Knights cleaning money.” Sabre turned off his safety.
“Krait still sells for El Sombra Roja. Took Diego’s clients.” The man held his hands up. “Manny can’t win the war if he only has money. No good.”
“I’m still not hearing why I should agree.”
“Manny overlooks Diego’s death and gets a new supplier and money.”
“Fuck. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Sabre shook his head, but the gun in his hand remained steady. “I don’t have any friends.” He pulled the trigger. Red dripped down the middle of the man’s forehead before he slumped over.
The other five men, realizing what had happened, reached for their guns. When they came up empty-handed, they bowed their heads, waiting for the inevitable.
We all fired once, watching as the men fell forward. They were dead before they even hit the table.