Long Ride The Slayers MC #3) (8 page)

“Shit.” Chase places his half full bottle down. “I told you Vince wasn’t happy about brushing him off. He wants to meet. I told him what you said, that we’d handle it at the council in a couple of weeks. He wasn’t happy about it. I guess he doesn’t want to wait.”

I close my eyes and feel my jaw clench tight. I’m not in the mood for this shit.

I’ve got the Cartel breathing down my neck on one side, pressuring me to accept bigger deliveries, and Vince, as the President of the Kingsmen, breathing down my neck on the other side. These extra two weeks until the council were supposed to give me a little more time to think of a way to buy some more time before this shit really hits the fan.

Guess Vince isn’t gonna give me that time.

Well, then we best not keep our guests waiting.

I reach around and unlatch the snap on top of my holster, giving easier access to my pistol in case I need to grab it quick.

Let’s do this.

~*~

The three bikes are parked in a row at the far side of the lot, underneath one of the streetlamps. For however different the Kingsmen and the Slayers are, we have one thing in common and that’s a love for Harley’s.

That’s about the only thing we see eye to eye on these days.

Leaning up against the motorcycles are three men I know enough to name this far away. It’s the usual lineup for our rare meetings.

Vince, the Kingsmen’s President, kind of like my counterpart. Jay, his son and his V.P. who is much more level headed than his old man and the one I prefer to do business with, and, finally, the third man Clink. He’s the equivalent of their version of what Chase is to us. He’s their Enforcer.

If I had known these guys were coming I wouldn’t have sent Gryff off to chase down Tina until tomorrow. As my VP, he should be here just in case this shit turns ugly. But, not wanting to look like we’re under manned, I grabbed the first Slayer I could find and it happened to be Esè.

This kid is really getting thrown into the thick of things quick for a newbie. No way in hell would he ever get close to a meeting like this until he’s paid his dues for a few years. But, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Right now, I need muscle to flank me.

I know if things go sour that there’s a bar full of Slayers behind me that’ll be out here in less than a minute flat. But, let’s hope it don’t come to that. The last thing I need is a fucking fight in my lot. The cops would be swarming all over it and it’ll just be more eyes on me that I don’t need right now.

No. I’m not raising any alarms by letting the rest of the guys know what’s going on out here. If they hear gunshots, then they’ll figure it out on their own and come running out guns blazing.

“You boys lost?” I call out as we approach. “Chisolm’s just down that highway about two hours.”

Vince straightens. “Thanks for the directions.”

Smart ass.

“What’re you doin’ here Vince? You know this shit can’t be tolerated. I don’t go play in your back yard, you don’t come play in mine,” I cut the pretense.

Jay and Clink move to stand on either side of their President as we face off.

“Seems your back yard’s been busy, Dawson. We’re hearing rumors,” Vince beats around the bush. “Thought it would be best to talk it out face to face and see what’s true. See what’s not.”

Yeah… I’m sure he already knows everything he needs to. He’s only here to hear me confirm it, to give him all the reason he needs to make a move.

“Well, you know what they say about rumors. Only believe about half of them,” I deflect. “I got your message about wanting a sit down. I also sent you a reply that now’s not really a good time. We got the council meeting coming up. Why waste a perfectly good opportunity to talk about this all on
neutral
ground? Sorry to cause you an unnecessary trip out here, but I think it’s best we wait ‘till the council meeting.”

“Afraid that won’t work, Dawson. I’ve got some concerns. Concerns that won’t wait ‘till then. You’ve got some shit goin’ on here that is just waiting to spill over into Chisolm. That makes this my business, and I don’t just let my business sit and wait until I take care of it,” Vince is getting agitated.

I need to scale this shit back. “Look. You got trouble every once in a while over there. Do I come runnin’ and whining every time I hear things? No. I let you take care of yours. The last time you boys had trouble over there, you came to us for help.”

I remind Vince and his men of what went down a few months ago, of exactly how the Cartel even came into the picture. It was over in his territory, over in Chisolm, that the Cartel first made a move, looking for some new turf to sell their smack.

The Kingsmen don’t tolerate drugs in their town and needed to chase the Cartel out. But, they knew they couldn’t do it alone. So… they came to us with their hand out, looking for help, convincing me that it was in my club’s best interest to help them eradicate the threat.

And he had valid points back then.

If the Cartel was successful in taking over Chisolm, it was only a matter of time until they branched out and found their way into Riverdale. Once that happened, it would have added a layer of competition to the market, a market we already have a monopoly on.

So, the decision to help Vince and his men chase the Cartel out of Chisolm was a strategic business move on my part and nothing else. Little did I know that it would bring retaliation by the Cartel, which was under Cat’s father’s rule at the time.

That was how this whole fucking mess started, how the Conquistadors drug cartel even came to be a blip on my radar. It all stems from the Kingsmen. So, in a way,
they’re
to blame for all of this. If they were able to handle their own shit and not need to come cryin’ for help, then none of the events of the last few months would have happened.

The attempt on Stitch’s life wouldn’t have been made. My hand wouldn’t have been forced to help Mateo in his coup to take over the Cartel,
and
I wouldn’t be in bed with them now, forced to do business with a damn Mexican drug lord, even if he is a slight improvement from his predecessor.

“I got some shit to clean up and it’s gonna take me a while to do it. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to come ask, but if you don’t hear from me, then it’s safe to assume that
my
club is fully capable of taking care of
our
own shit,” I make myself clear. “Any interference is only gonna piss me off. I think we both know what happens when I get pissed off, Vince.”

There’s silence for a moment as we each stare down the man standing opposite us.

“The Council is in two and a half weeks, Dawson. That’s how long you’ve got to clean this up. If nothing’s changed by the next time I see you, then I think it’s safe to assume that you
can’t
contain whatever you’ve got going on and
we’ll
just need to do it for you.”

His threat is thinly veiled.

I can see this meeting has run its course.

“You boys best be leaving now before I tell you how I feel about ultimatums.” I use every ounce of willpower to remind myself that if I lose my shit right now, I’m just gonna be playing into his hand.

The Kingsmen and the Slayers have been walking a fine line for long enough and both sides have just about run out of patience with the other. I don’t know for sure about Vince but I know that I’m practically chomping at the bit to fire the first shot and handle this like men, like our kind do.

“Two and a half weeks, Dawson,” he repeats himself.

My eye twitches and I remind myself over and over why it’s a bad idea to lose my cool. I’ve got too much to lose.

“I’d offer you boys a beer before you leave, but… fuck it. My bar doesn’t serve assholes,” I quip as they each mount their bikes.

One engine joins the next and then the next as they start up and fall in line behind Vince’s bike in the lead. I don’t even try to fight the urge to wave sarcastically as they take off down the highway and become nothing more than a trio of red tail lights fading away in the distance.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MOLLY

The towel in my hand is still warm, almost hot, from the dryer. Fluffy and soft it folds easily and actually bounces a little when I add it to the pile.

There’s nothing I love more than warm towels and sheets that still smell like fabric softener. The tall stack of tan towels is beginning to climb and threatens to topple over soon so I cut it in half and carry the smaller pile carefully out of the laundry room with just enough clearance over the top one to actually see where I’m going.

All the hard work I’m putting into balancing the laundry is almost lost as I jump at the sound of the doorbell.

“Come in! It’s open!” Normally I would never just invite a person in, but I have a pretty good idea whose distorted shadow is behind the pebbled glass of the front door.

“Sorry I’m late!” Baby calls down the foyer as if expecting me to be in the kitchen.

The fundraiser carnival for Trixie’s preschool starts in about two hours and we had made plans to all go together and help set up.

“It’s okay,” I shout down the stairs. “I’m finishing up some laundry. I’m up here.”

Giving away my true location, it only takes her a few seconds to ascend the stairs with the the baby carrier in hand, like a pro.

And I thought balancing a bunch of folded towels was challenging. One look at Baby and I suddenly feel like my accomplishment is child’s play compared to hers. She’s got a fabric diaper bag over one shoulder, a shopping bag in the matching hand and the baby carrier in the other.

She’s not even out of breath.

“You ready?” Baby places the bags she’s carrying down on the carpet and the plastic carrier next to it, working the buckles and snaps to take Lu out of the cushioned cocoon and up into her arms instead, bouncing the little girl in her arms.

“Oh, and I brought these for you. Lu’s already grown out of ‘em, so you keep them and use them when you need.” She bends down to grab the handles of the plastic grocery bag near her foot. “They’re all pink. So… I guess there’s a fifty-fifty chance you’ll use them. If not, you can just donate them.”

I smile as I take her offering and lead her into the spare bedroom we’ll be using as a nursery. “Thanks. I haven’t really bought much yet and I didn’t have Sasha when she was that small so I don’t have any hand me downs for the beginning. I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.”

The wall light switch is flipped on as we enter the normally empty room, and I see Baby taking stock of the bare walls. Well… bare except for the posters of half naked and, in some cases, fully naked women crawling all over Harleys.

“Interesting decorating choice for a nursery. Let me guess? Dawson?” Baby hits the nail on the head.

I nod. “Yup. I told him he has a couple of months before he needs to take them down, but I’m kind of afraid of where he’s going to move them.” Secretly, I’m terrified he’s gonna want to put these up in our bedroom when the time comes.

These posters are the very same ones that hung in his bedroom as a teenager, and look the part. The edges are tattered and sprinkled with tiny holes from the many thumbtacks that were used to hole them in place against the sheetrock over the years. Dawson isn’t necessarily a sentimental kind of guy but these posters mean something to him. I didn’t have the heart to tell him to throw them out, but I’ll be damned if they’re hanging over my own bed one day.

“I made Stitch put his in the tool shed.” Baby relates. “Don’t worry. We’ve got time. We’ll get this place set up for you.”

“Maw!” Sasha comes running in and crashes into my legs. “Is it time?”

She’s been looking forward to this carnival for weeks and has even saved up her allowance to buy something special. Not that she had to save very long. What kid her age gets fifteen bucks a week for making her own bed? I thought it was preposterous but Dawson seems to think it’s a fair wage.

Not to mention that every time it’s the little girl’s pay day, Dawson never has change of a twenty-dollar bill, so the kid makes out like a bandit.

“You ready to ride the merry-go-round, Sasha?” Baby asks the excited little girl.

Sasha nods emphatically. “Yup. Can Lu go on too?”

I laugh. Every time Sasha sees the newborn, she wants to treat it like one of her dolls and take it with her everywhere. “Lu’s a little too young, Sash. Maybe in a few years. But, your friend Jenny should be there. You two can ride together.”

Sasha reaches in to give little Lu a kiss on the cheek, and Baby and I give out a collective sigh. With all the shit we see on a daily basis in this type of lifestyle, it’s humbling to see just a bit of innocence. Helps to balance it all out.

“Go get your shoes on so we can can help Miss Trixie with the balloons before everyone shows up.” I’ve said the two magic words that get this little girl moving fast. Miss Trixie, who she adores, and balloons.

~*~

“Maw. I sound like Minnie Mouse!” Sasha inhaled another gulp of helium when I wasn’t looking.

“Don’t do that anymore, Sash,” I repeat myself, although I’ve already told her once. “But, yes, you do sound like Minnie Mouse.”

My fingers hurt from tying so many tight knots in the ends of the colorful decorations. Altogether, we must have about two hundred of the round balls inflated and flying high at the end of long ribbons.

It’s a collective effort, with Trix, Uno, Baby, me, Stitch and some of the boys all sitting around a picnic table surrounded by helium tanks. Dawson was supposed to help, too, but seems to be caught up in some business and won’t be here until later.

“I think that’s enough, everyone. Go enjoy the carnival and leave this all to be cleaned up later. Thanks again for your help,” Trix stands and addresses the group.

I know this is a tradition that they do every year, but it’s the first one I’ve been to. I had expected a small little cluster of booths with carny games but was definitely
not
prepared for what we drove up to.

There are rides, as in actual theme park rides. A small roller coaster, a merry-go-round, a haunted house, slides, a bounce house, and so much more that I haven’t walked around to see yet.

“You’ve really outdone yourself here, Trix,” I compliment the host.

The older woman smiles with pride and nods while looking around. “We’ve come a long way from when we first started. Half of the ticket sales go to the school and half go to the vendors. It’s turned into one of the biggest events in the whole town every year.”

“Maw, I wanna go on the rides!” Sasha tugs on my sleeve, eager to get a head start on some of the attractions before the place gets busy.

Trix laughs at the precocious little girl. “How come you never show this much enthusiasm for school work Sasha?”

I don’t remember doing nearly half of the the things Trix has these kids doing back when I was in preschool. I remember story time, nap time, and play time. Not numbers and letters, and even reading that she works into the children’s day.

“Uhm…” Sasha is taken off guard, not knowing how to answer. “Because this is
fun?
”

At least she’s honest.

“Okay, okay,” I give in. “How about we go on the slides first?”

Sasha scowls. “No.
Dawson
says
he’ll
take me on the slides.
You
can take me in the haunted house.”

Wow. Little Miss Attitude seems to be calling the shots today.

~*~

DAWSON

Where the fuck are they?

Gryff isn’t the punctual type, but he’s really testing my patience today. Last I heard, they were on their way with the dunk tank. That was an hour ago. We got money to raise and people to dunk. If they don’t get here soon, his ass is going back in that tank again this year, no matter
what
I promised him about Uno.

As if he must have heard the silent threat forming in my head, I see his black pickup truck finally entering the dirt parking lot of the soccer field, with a blue plastic tarp covering something large in the back.

It’s about fuckin’ time.

I flag him down like an airplane control person, guiding him as he puts the truck in reverse and backs up to where the tank goes, next to the water balloon toss booth. His engine revs and the tail brake lights blink every time he moves closer until I hold up my palm for him to stop.

When I approach the shiny new Ford, I slap the fender. “You’re good. Throw it in Park.”

The engine is cut and he hops out of the driver’s side just as the prospects gather around to lug the heavy piece of cargo out of the bed of the truck.

“I want this filled with water and ready to go in less than an hour, boys. No excuses. Just get ‘er done.” I’d stay and help, but, well, I’m not a prospect and I don’t have to.

Stepping back, I watch as the generic rain tarp is pulled away, exposing the plexi-glass of the top of the tank and the wooden base painted in bright yellow.

“Not bad,” I cross my arms and nod as Gryff takes a place by my side.

He looks smug. “Thanks. It wasn’t easy, but I got it done.”

Who’s he kidding? “What the fuck you talkin’ about? You and I both know all you did was sit around and watch Stitch build it.”

He doesn’t argue. “Technically, I handed him shit when he needed it, so I helped. And my stimulating conversation kept Stitch motivated to finish it. Therefore, my help was invaluable. And, as payment, I’ll be the one to tell Uno he’s the lucky son of a bitch who gets to be dunked this year, thank you very much.”

Great. With my luck, we’ll end up with another broken tank this year.

“On another note, I got news on that little project you put me on.” Gryff lowers his voice and leans into me as we watch the newest batch of Slayer hopefuls struggle to balance the square booth down onto the ground without dropping it. “Easy! That shit doesn’t bounce you know!” he calls out to them.

“Yeah? What did you find?” It’s been about three days since I assigned him with the task and other than small updates, I hadn’t heard much.

There’s a loud crash as the square object is finally set down on the grass. “You break that and I’m a gonna break your necks!” Gryff plays Drill Sergeant, but quickly lowers his volume and gives his attention back to me. “She’s living in a sober house up in Canyon Ridge.”

Really?

That’s certainly unexpected. “A sober house?” I repeat what he’s just told me.

When junkies get outta rehab, the first stop is a sober house. Some stay a day, some stay longer, but most usually fuck up and get booted out pretty quick for slipping up and using again.

Those places have revolving doors and dealers are usually waiting right on the other side, just bidding their time until their usual clientele comes crawling back for another fix.

“Yup. Wasn’t hard at all to track her down once I gave up on the dealers and started looking in rehabs instead,” Gryff reports.

I can’t help but ask. “How much time she got clean?”

“Seven months.” His answer is quick and matter of fact.

I nearly choke. “You serious?
Seven
months?”

That is definitely not an answer I was prepared for. Junkies go through spurts, or cycles. They can do a couple of days here and there, especially if they get locked up for some petty crimes. Maybe they can even struggle through getting a month or so every once in a while when their life really hits rock bottom and they try to straighten out. But, seven months? That’s a different story.

In junkie language, seven months is like an eternity. Takes some real hard work and dedication to pull some shit like that off.

“And she’s been 100% clean that entire time?” A part of me is still doubtful and looking for some evidence to back it up.

Gryff nods. “Yup. They test the residents every other day. She’s never tested dirty. Got a job, goes to meetings every night. Seems to be on the straight and narrow. Wants to play by the rules.”

I’m still processing the information.

Canyon Ridge is only about forty-five minutes away. If she’s really been clean and sober all this time, why the fuck wouldn’t she try and reach out to Angel or to their ma? I know my lady says she’s written her older sister off for good, but family get’s funny like that.

To leave your only living family thinking that you’ve abandoned them and could be dead in a ditch somewhere is anything but trying to live on the “straight and narrow”, as Gryff put it.

It’s a fucking coward’s way out, is what it is.

Leave the damage you left in your wake behind and start over somewhere where your past can’t catch up with you, while others clean up the mess.

The parking lot is beginning to fill with cars full of happy townspeople ready to help raise some money and have fun, but I’ve got other shit on my mind right now. The swishing sound of water begins to rush out of two hoses into the water chamber of the dunk tank, distracting me for a second while I think this through.