Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2) (17 page)

“There is. Grab some clothes, Caroline. I've got something I need to show you before I leave for the bar.”

Caroline nodded. She found clothes in the form of one of his tee shirts and walked downstairs. She smelled the coffee and the burned toaster waffles. “How you do you burn toaster waffles?”

“It's an acquired skill. Sit down.” He motioned to the table. “I need you to sign those papers, right where the little post-it flags are.”

Caroline sat down. She blinked several times and focused on the papers. “What the fuck is this? Buster. What?”

“There's a lot of legal speak in there, but basically, it says that in the event of my death everything that I have becomes yours.”

“I'm not signing this.”

“Yes, you are.” He leaned over so that he was in her face. “Look at me.” Caroline met his eyes. “You're going to sign these because I need to know that if something happens, you'll be taken care of. Sign, Caroline.”

She picked up the pen, signed her name. “Nothing better happen to you because I will find a way to bring you back from the dead and kick your ass if you let anything happen to you. Do you understand?” Caroline threw the pen across the table.

“I have no doubt you'd want to, but if something happens to me, I want you out of Detroit as fast as possible. There's money here in the house, in a safe upstairs behind that landscape painting in the bathroom. You take that money and you go. My lawyer will sort out everything else.”

“Fuck you. I can't sit here and plan your death, Buster. And you can't go out there and think that you're going to fucking die! You need to plan on living. So, I amend what I said I'd do if you get yourself killed, I won't bring you back from the dead. Instead, I'll just go and see if Jillian needs a sister wife.”

“Don't even fucking joke about that, Caroline.”

“Don't die. Seems pretty simple to me.” Caroline rose from the table and headed for the coffee. “Now, sit down and I'll make you a proper breakfast before you go off to battle. Oh, and there's one more thing, we forgot something last night.”

“You can think of something that we didn't do last night?” Buster chuckled. “Pour me a cup of coffee, would you?”

“We forgot the condom, Buster. Every single time.” Caroline hadn't realized it until she was in his arms, sleepy and satiated, and it didn't seem like the time to bring it up. She wasn't on the pill. The pill was expensive, and she was pretty poor and not very sexually active. “Do you want me to go and get the morning-after pill?”

Caroline got uncomfortable during the pause that followed. He cleared his throat. “You don't need to do that, Caroline.”

“I'm not one of those women who track their cycle down to the day, Buster. There's a chance that I'm pregnant.”

“Actually, there's not. You can't be pregnant, because I can't get you pregnant. After everything that happened with Hanna, I had a procedure.”

“You had a vasectomy?” Caroline overfilled the coffee cup. “And why are you just mentioning this now?”

“It hasn't come up, has it? Besides, I got so used to using condoms, it was just second nature.” Buster looked down as his phone buzzed. “Fuck. I'm going to have to pass on breakfast. It's Danny. I've got to go.”

“You should have told me that you had a vasectomy, Buster. It's kind of an important detail.”

“We can either argue for the next sixty seconds or you can come over here and give me a kiss for luck. It's your choice.”

Caroline chose the kiss. She chose him and watched him go with a sharp stab to her heart. He didn't look back, and she didn't stop watching until he was well out of sight. Now she'd sit and she'd wait for the phone to ring.

The phone didn't ring, and eventually she couldn't sit anymore. She explored the house, checked out the back yard and was delighted to see that Buster had been telling the truth about the tree pumpkins. Caroline hoped she'd get a chance to take a shot at them with a bow and arrow. It was that thought that got her wondering if it was even safe for her to be outside.

She made herself tea, marveled over the fact that Buster owned a plug-in tea kettle and flipped through channels on the television for what seemed like an eternity, but the phone still didn't ring. Caroline eventually ended up falling asleep on the couch. A loud knock on the door woke her. Her heart continued to race as she walked over to the door. Detective Harris was on the other side. For a moment, Caroline considered not answering but curiosity won out. “Can I help you?” She only opened the door only as far as the chain lock would allow.

“I need you to come with me, to the morgue. I need you to identify a body.” Harris looked like she was having a shitty day. Caroline would have smirked if she could have done anything but clench the door knob tightly in her hand. Silence stretched between them. “It's not Buster.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“Because I want you to see the cost of the life that you've chosen,” Harris replied. “You can come with me willingly, or I can haul you in on all those old parking tickets. It's your call. You come with me willingly, and you can leave whenever you want. I bring you in on the tickets, you're sitting in a cell until you make bail. With the things I'm hearing, you don't want to be stuck in a cell.”

“What things?”

“Things like all of Nightshade has a target on them, women and children included, though you could make the argument that Nightshade children have never been safe. Think of Taylor Mason, or maybe I should say Taylor Davenport. Either way...” Harris trailed off and shrugged her shoulders. “So, what's it going to be? I don't have all day.”

Caroline didn't want to be stuck in a cell. “Fine. I'll go with you. Let me get my shit.” She took pleasure when the door slammed before Harris could protest. Fuck that bitch. Someone was dead. It wasn't Buster, and suddenly she knew who it was. It was going to be Jillian.

Her best friend. Her only friend. It wasn't easy to stay on her feet, to think, but she managed to grab her purse. She left a note on the coffee table, underneath the remote, where she hoped that it couldn't be missed.

Finally, she opened the door and stepped out. She locked the door. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

<#<#<#<#

It wasn't Jillian on the table. It was Rock. Sweet Rock who was still amused by cartoons and who liked to drink milk straight out of the carton. He had been stripped of his clothes, covered with a sheet. There had been a second sheet folded and draped over his face, but Harris was quick to remove it, even though the attendant glared at her.

He'd been shot in the head, more specifically almost dead center in his forehead. “See how the entrance wound is relatively small?” Harris spoke in the same tone a teacher would use. “Now, step around here so you can see the back better.”

“No thanks. I'm good.”

“Get out.” Harris snapped at the attendant. The man hesitated, but, eventually, he left. “Step around here or I'll drag you by your pretty fucking hair. You might like that, though, right?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Caroline demanded.

“The surveillance on Nightshade never stopped, Caroline. We just got smarter about it.” Harris chuckled. “Got to give you credit where credit is due, I never thought that Buster would make some bitch he got off on a bench his old lady.”

“If you shut the fuck up, I'll look.” Caroline regretted her words immediately. Only the base of Rock's skull was relatively intact, the back had been blown out. “You are one sick bitch. I really think that you need professional help.”

“I could say the same to you.” Harris smiled. She'd never stopped smiling. “Now, if you've got a minute. I have a few questions.”

“Go. Fuck. Yourself.” Caroline flipped her middle finger up at the woman. She had her phone out before she could reach the door. There was only one person she could think to call, and Ryan answered on the third ring, slightly out of breath. “Hey. It's Caroline. Can you pick me up at the police station?”

Chapter Fifteen

The plan had been simple. Simple enough that it seemed to be genius to Buster. They'd simply walk into Miller's place, armed as they always were, and turn the tables on the man. He should have known better, should have known that simple had no place in their lives.

For all of the meetings with Miller, at least since Mark's death, had just been Miller and Smoke, but when they walked into the abandoned church, there were three other men they'd never seen before. Three big, burly men who made no attempt to hide the fact that they were armed to the teeth.

Yeah, this was all going to hell and fast. Buster looked over to Train, who nodded at him. He realized it, too. All of Nightshade did. The tension in the room deepened with every passing beat of silence as both groups tried to figure out who was going to make the first move.

Joseph Miller spoke first, with a laugh. “I know that you've all come here to try to kill me. In case you were confused, try would be the operative word in that sentence.”

“If you didn't think we could kill you, you wouldn't have brought in more men,” Buster replied. It wasn't going to be as simple, but it was still possible for them to come out on top. “And yeah, we came here to end this. To end you.”

Everyone listened. No one spoke, moved or maybe even breathed. Buster was on alert, at the ready to pull his gun. He looked over to see Train's wide grin, the man had something up his sleeve, and Buster was pretty sure that he had at least a grenade or two with him. Nightshade was there in full force. If they all went down, the club would go with them.

“Why today?” Joseph asked. “Why now?”

“Why not?” Buster shrugged his shoulders. “Seemed as good a day as any.”

Joseph laughed. It was a chilling sound. “I think that's a lie. I think that you're here because you think killing me will somehow help your impending war with The Wild Cards. It's actually not a half bad idea, but you see, I spoke with Jake Dodd this morning, and he gave me great incentive to put you down like a rabid dog.”

“So, why are we still breathing?” Buster asked.

“Because I'd like to say, fuck Jake Dodd. In fact, I'll help you take the fucker down. And when it's all over, we're good. Even. In fact, I'll sweeten the pot. I'm getting a little tired of Detroit. Been thinking of relocating to a warmer climate. I'll leave you my files.”

“And I'm just supposed to take your word for it? We're supposed to believe that you're just going to walk away and hand us the world?”

“Why wouldn't I? As business relationships go, we've had a good one. I'm not a simple fucking street thug like Jake Dodd.”

“You got a personal beef with Dodd or something?”

“Not with Dodd. With his sister, but that is a story for never,” Joseph replied. “So, are we going to do one last thing together or what?”

Buster inhaled a deep breath. There was no way to put this to a vote. The decision was on his shoulders. Every one of his men trusted him to make a decision he wasn't sure that he trusted himself to make. If he chose wrong, he'd essentially kill the one thing he'd sworn to protect. “We've got a deal.” The tension in the room remained but lowered some as the two men shook hands.

Joseph turned his head, said something to the three men in a language Buster didn't understand. Fear washed over him. It could be the order to mow them down, but instead, the men turned and left the room.

Train let out a laugh. “Well, I didn't see that coming.” He continued to laugh, and then Ace joined in. It was nervous laughter. Maybe even borderline hysterical. Buster found himself chuckling along with them. The tension in the room was gone. The cards had been laid out on the table, so to speak, and they were going to walk away with what they'd come here for.

“This isn't funny.” Edge cleared his throat. “Well, at least it's not funny for you.”

All eyes went to him. Buster wanted to walk over and strangle him, especially when he saw the gun in his hand. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Edge didn't answer. Instead he simply raised the gun and fired. Joseph Miller, caught off guard, was hit dead center in the chest. And all hell broke loose. Smoke returned fire, narrowly missing Edge, who dived for cover behind a row of half decayed pews.

Buster fired but missed Smoke, who was behind one of the pillars on either side of the aisle. There was a chance the gunfire would bring them back, so he got Train and Ace's attention and motioned towards the door. They got what he wanted immediately He caught sight of Danny trying to get behind Smoke, so he went around to the other side.

Edge was still behind them. Rock was back there, too, but he had no idea where Monroe had gone. But Buster didn't think that he'd have turned and run. He wasn't that sort of man. “Fire in the hole!” Train's shout made Buster crouch down and then an explosion rocked the walls.

Three shots rang out. “He's down,” Danny called out. “Think this place is about to come down, too.”

“It's time to go. Now.” Train was already running towards the door.

“Go!” Buster roared the words as a chunk of ceiling fell near the altar. He'd barely made it out the door, all of his Brothers in front of him, when the entire place crumbled like a house of cards. “Jesus Fuck!” He ran his hands over his hair. “What the fuck was that, Edge? Give me one reason I shouldn't take your head off right here and now. We could have done things peacefully and got what we wanted! This didn't have to happen.”

“There is no we.” Edge stood about five feet from anyone else.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rock exploded at his friend. “You almost got us killed back there.”

“I said, there's no us.” Edge lifted the hand holding his gun and fired. The bullet hit Rock straight in the head, blew the back out. And then more shots fired, from the dark where no one should have been. Buster scrambled for cover. He saw Train go down, hard. He wasn't sure the man would get back up.

A car screeched to the curb, and Edge got in. Buster fired at the retreating vehicle, sure that he'd made contact at least once. He didn't get a plate. He didn't need to because he'd seen the car before. It was Jake's car. It would seem that Jillian wasn't the only one who had gone over to the dark side. And once again, Buster hadn't seen the hit coming.

“We've got to get the fuck out of here. Call Maggie, Train needs a doctor.” Danny walked over to him. “We can't take him.”

Buster looked down at Rock. It was an image that would remain burned in his mind for the rest of his days. There was still a look of shock, surprise that his best friend would have a gun on him. One could only hope that it had been over so quickly Rock had no chance to realize his best friend had taken his life. “Got to get his bike out of here, too. And fast. Go,” he added when Danny hesitated.

Buster took one last look, wished he'd been able to make things happen differently, but they needed to play the cards that they were dealt. Rock had known that. He'd known the risk. He'd paid the ultimate price. His sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. Somehow they were going to figure this out.

He heard the sound of sirens, faint but no doubt coming to the scene at full speed. “Leave the bike,” Buster called. “Ride. Now.”

<#<#<#<#

It was barely noon, and the day had already been much more interesting than Buster would have liked. He had a raging headache and the undeniable urge to punch something or someone repeatedly. When Manuel showed up without Maggie, it took all his restraint not to punch him. With Maggie being two days overdue, he wasn't dragging her out. Instead, he'd brought a tall, skinny guy who worked at the morgue.

Train hadn't seemed to mind. The guy got to work, and Manuel got down to business. “Word around town is that Nightshade is out of the game. The Wild Cards are calling the shots now.” He laughed. “I see you're short two patches.”

“Rock didn't make it back with us.” Buster knew that he had to be upfront. “And Edge, well he's not a patch any longer. In fact, he's a dead man walking. He just doesn't realize it yet.”

“It's rough, having someone flip on you.” Manuel looked around the bar. “Gonna be rough to keep yourselves on the map, but The Street Kings' have your back. You can count on us.”

“We appreciate it.” The words were inadequate. Without Manuel and his men, he wasn't sure that Nightshade would survive. He wasn't sure that they would with him, but it would be a better shot. “I've got guys trying to figure out where he is.”

“So do I. Got a lead on a warehouse downtown. You want to ride with me? Check it out?” Manuel offered.

“You mind if we swing by my place first? Check on my Old Lady.” Buster had tried her phone several times, but she rarely heard it if she was sleeping. She'd better be sleeping, or he was going to be pissed. Seriously pissed. “Monroe, ride with us so that you can ride back with Caroline.”

<#<#<#<#

Buster heard the music before he got his key in the lock. It was loud enough that there was no way she'd hear the door. It pissed him off. He could be anyone, the lock was good but not infallible. Manuel and Monroe waited outside while he walked into the living room and shut the music off. “Caroline!”

He found her in the basement, her arms full of the sheets that they'd slept on the night before. She jolted at the sight of him and pulled out her headphones. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Why are you wearing headphones and blasting the music so loud that you can hear it from the street?” He watched, and appreciated, the view of her ass as she bent over to put the linens in the dryer.

“What are you talking about? I wasn't playing the music. I've had my headphones on listening to a book on tape.” She pushed a button on the dryer and turned to face him. “It's nice to see you alive.”

“For the moment,” Buster closed the distance between them, cupped her face with his hands. “Are you sure that you didn't forget you turned the music on?”

“I'm positive. It's weird though.” She frowned. “And do I even want to know what 'for the moment' means?”

“It's a long story. I'll let Monroe fill you in when he takes you back to the bar. You're not staying here. It's not safe.” If she hadn't turned the music on, it meant someone was in the house, someone who wanted their presence to be known. It could be Dodd, it could be Harris. The possibilities really were endless.

“I've got to go somewhere with Manuel. I'll be back when I can.” Buster would have gladly told her everything, but there wasn't time. “Go and get your stuff.”

“Wait,” she reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists. “There's something I've got to tell you. A few things, really. I guess you didn't see the note under the remote control on the coffee table. Harris came here, told me I needed to go with her to identify a body. She heavilly implied it was Jillian but it wasn't. It was Rock but you knew that already, didn't you?”

He nodded. Buster didn't realize his grip had tightened on Caroline's face until she released his wrists and pushed at his chest. The mere idea that Harris had come to his home, taken her and made her see Rock when any officer who'd ever arrested him could have done it filled him with rage. “Fuck. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. You're just strong. Look, there's something else that she said, she saw us that night outside the bar when we....” She trailed off. “And it doesn't matter. What matters is she's still watching Nightshade.”

“She's not watching that closely or we'd be in cuffs right now.” Buster wasn't surprised that the woman would still have an eye on them. “Next time that she comes knocking, don't answer the door. Got me?”

“Got it.”

“Now give me a kiss and go get your shit.” Buster could see that she was scared, no matter how she was trying to hide it. The fact that she tried to hide it made him love her even more, if that was at all possible. “I'm sorry that you had to see Rock like that.” Harris was going to get what was coming to her for that; he wasn't fucking around. “And I'm sorry about not telling you about the vasectomy sooner. I should have. I can have it reversed.”

“No,” she said quickly, leaned in and kissed him. “Don't do that.” She pulled back. “I need to turn the oven off, too. I was making dinner.”

“I'll take care of all that. Don't worry about it, and don't let Train guilt you into baking. He doesn't need cookies. I have solid intel that he's got a hoard of them up in his room. He was hurt.” Buster didn't want her to walk into that blind. He let that take the front seat, pushed her response to his offer to the side.

“I've got a few dozen frozen and hidden in a Lean Cuisine box in the freezer at the bar. As long as that box has been there, no member of Nightshade has looked inside.” She was really smiling now. “How hurt?”

“Just a little mosquito bite,” Buster replied. She nodded, and he knew she knew that it was more serious than he was letting on. Caroline was a very smart woman. “Make sure he stays in bed.”

“Like I could actually stop him if he tried to get out. I'll do what I can.” Caroline stretched up to brush her lips against his. “I think that I'm going to wear that little red thing you like tonight, so make sure that you come home.”

<#<#<#<#

The warehouse was in a part of town that had been falling apart. There were no neighbors around, just a pack of dogs Buster suspected had once been pets. The warehouse stood out like a sore thumb. Every part of it, at least on the outside, was brand new. Still shiny. Not discreet at all. If this was where The Wild Cards were operating out of, Jake didn't give a rat's ass about being discreet.