Wreck Me: Steel Talons MC (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

 

She hated how she never knew when he was going to be around, but right now, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Eric’s text weighed on her mind. He’d said he needed to talk to her right away.

 

Dialing his number, she waited for three rings before he picked up. “Hold on, Susan, I have to get somewhere that I can talk,” he answered, and she heard movement and hospital equipment in the background. She hadn’t meant for him to go all the way to the hospital; she’d just thought he’d make a couple of calls.

 

“Why are you at the hospital?”

 

He chuckled. “I had to sweet-talk a couple of people to get things rolling. They’ve been running behind on blood work or something, and no one had looked at the CT scan or x-rays yet.” There was a slam, and then it was quieter. “Okay, I’m outside. Damn, it’s hot today.”

 

Susan rubbed her forehead. “I guess it is. So, what’s the word?” She held her breath.

 

“Well, the first problem is that everything is overshadowed by the effects of alcoholism, so it’s hard to get a complete diagnosis. But they know for sure he’s got some cirrhosis of the liver from drinking. On top of that, they suspect the breathing problems and additional sepsis throughout his body are being caused by amyloidosis. They figure it’s in his lungs and liver, maybe his kidneys. They’re scheduling biopsies to get tissue samples later this afternoon.”

 

Susan wasn’t familiar with the condition, but she knew it wasn’t a good thing. She’d look it up in her textbooks when she got home. Now, she asked, “Is that treatable?”

 

He didn’t answer right away, and that made Susan sick to her stomach with fear. She may not get along with her parents, but the thought of them not being there…

 

Finally, he said, “It depends on how advanced it is. I asked around, and it sounds like chemotherapy is the best option.”

 

Susan closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. Not good. “Alright, thanks, Eric.”

 

“I’m going to hang around and see how quickly they get that biopsy scheduled. My wife is picking up my son today, and he’s got soccer practice, so I’m good until about six. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

 

“You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

 

“I know this is hard for you. If you want to swing by later or tomorrow, and you need a buffer, I’ll come along. And don’t worry about owing me anything. We’re good..”

 

She’d do something for him, maybe get a gift card for his kid. “Thank you, Eric. It’s nice to have a friend I can count on.”

 

He chuckled. “That’s me. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

 

Susan hung up and found herself stuck once again with nothing to do except wait and worry. She stared at the goggles she’d thrown in the passenger seat. If only she had a hobby or an obsession, she could throw herself into it. That was one area where Jim was superior – he had something to occupy him when he needed a distraction.

 

She put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. She would go home and try to get some schoolwork done. It would be difficult, but she’d do her best to make use of her time. Then, later, she might call Jim and see if he was still around. She didn’t get her hopes up, though. He had a whole group of friends around that took up a great deal of his time. Maybe, someday, she would, too.

 

CHAPTER
THIRTY

 

Jim rode up to the front of the clubhouse, cocky and confident, ready to show the rest of the Talons his new ride. It was more powerful and better-customized than the one he’d wrecked, and he could just imagine the jealousy it would evoke in the rest of the crew. But as he shut off the engine, he felt the dark mood that hung over the place, and he went straight to Ari.

 

He didn’t have to ask questions. Ari faced him, and Jim knew the answer. Eyes dancing beneath his bushy brows, Ari told him, “Sauza called. I’m taking you, Digger, Boxer, and Donnie with me tonight. Rechoncho, Sauza, and three of his goons want to meet on neutral territory at eight. I think they’re taking the deal.”

 

It was a lie; if Ari really believed that, he wouldn’t be so excited. Jim pressed his lips into a thin line. “What if I’m not available?”

 

“Horseshit.” Ari didn’t even look up, too busy packing a bag with what he considered essentials – water, cigars, and a hand gun.

 

“I’m serious, Ari. I might have something important to take care of.” Jim crossed his arms.

 

Ari straightened, his brows gathering over the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got nothing more important than this club, Wade.” He poked a finger into Jim’s chest. “I’ve taken care of you for more than half your life, boy, and you’ll show respect where it’s due. Tonight, you’re riding with me and the crew, and we’re taking care of business.”

 

“Take your hands off me, Ari, or I’ll take them off for you.”

 

“Don’t threaten me, Wade,” Ari growled. “I’m almost twice your age, but it doesn’t mean I’m any less dangerous.” He shoved Jim and turned to walk away. It took all of Jim’s self-control not to go after him.

 

Instead, Jim stormed outside, lit a cigarette, and grabbed his phone. He punched in Susan’s number and cursed when he got voicemail.“Hey, Susan, I tried to get out of it, but I’ve got obligations tonight, and I probably won’t be available. If you get a chance in the next hour or so, call me. I’d like to know that you’re okay after… whatever happened earlier. I’ll try you one more time before I leave.”

 

“Whipped!” Boxer called from a few feet away. Jim scowled at his friend, who ambled over. “I told you it was going to happen.”

 

Jim shook his head. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

 

Boxer pointed to the phone. “You’re already letting that woman know when you can and can’t talk, checking in on her randomly, and worrying that you won’t hear from her before we go. You’re whipped, brother.”

 

Not in the mood to be teased, Jim threw a punch at Boxer’s arm that left his friend rubbing the spot. “I’m not whipped. I ran into her at the shop when I picked up my new ride, and she almost collapsed over some message she got. I thought it might be appropriate to ask how she was. Not that any of it is your concern.”

 

“You’re not going to be distracted while this shit goes down, are you? If you don’t hear back? We need you fully alert, bro.”

 

“I’ll be fine, Boxer. Just make sure you’re packing.” Jim was going to grab his pistol, too. He didn’t intend to walk into a trap unprepared.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

 

The sound of knocking broke Susan’s concentration. Not that her mind had really been on the functionality of the pancreas—she’d been halfway dozing. She frowned; she wasn’t expecting company. She had chip bags and other junk strewn across the coffee table, so she hoped it wasn’t her mother deciding to just stop by in the hopes of embarrassing her. She peeked through the hole and blinked to be sure she wasn’t seeing things. She flung the door open. “What’s wrong, Eric?”

 

He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Hello to you, too. Can I come in?”

 

She moved aside. “Excuse the mess. I’ve been attempting to study, and it’s not going well.” She brushed several pieces of trash off the kitchen counter straight into the garbage. Nauseous again, she asked, “Why are you here, Eric? Is the news that bad?”

 

He turned away. “It’s not really good, Susan.”

 

She braced her hands on the counter in front of her and leaned on them. “Whatever it is, just tell me. I’d rather just know.”

 

“Sit down.” Eric’s voice was authoritative, and Susan automatically did as he said. When he turned around, his face was lined, and it made him look old. “The amyloidosis is affecting multiple organs, but the liver is the worst because it was already compromised by cirrhosis. They could probably clear his lungs and kidneys with chemo, but the chemo would probably kill him because of his liver.”

 

Susan stared at him, stunned. “Isn’t there anything else that can be done?” She’d read a little about the disease when she first got home. “What about a transplant? I read that, in advanced stages, they’ll perform a transplant.”

 

Eric dropped into one of her rickety kitchen chairs. “Yeah, sometimes they can. But your father…” He trailed off.

 

Susan nodded, her hopes shattering. “He’s not eligible because of the drinking.”

 

“Right.” Eric sounded as disappointed as Susan felt. “Look, I’m sorry, Susan. I wish there was more I could do. But I don’t have the kind of pull or friends in high enough places to swing it. I wish I did.”

 

“No, you’ve done everything you could, more than I expected. Thank you, Eric.” She hesitated. “What if someone in the family was a match? Could they use a piece of one of our livers?”

 

He studied his hands. “Your, uh, your mother and your sister refuse to be tested.” He held up a hand, knowing she was about to blow a gasket. “It probably wouldn’t work anyway. It likely wouldn’t grow fast enough to make him a candidate for chemo, and there’s no guarantee the transplant wouldn’t fail. Or that the disease wouldn’t just spread to the new organ.”

 

Susan leapt to her feet. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a chance. It could work. Right now, he’s just going to die.” She paced the floor and tugged at her hair. “I’ll get tested, see if I’m a match.”

 

“Susan, stop.” Eric’s voice halted her, and she stared at him expectantly. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look—I’ve got to go. My wife’s bringing dinner home, and her and my son will be there within the hour. But you don’t need to put yourself through that. Your father doesn’t want the transplant anyway.”

 

“What do you mean, he doesn’t
want
it?”

 

“He told the doc he wouldn’t accept a donation.” Eric stood and came to stand in front of her. “He’s an angry old man who drinks too much and feels he has nothing left to live for. He’s full of guilt, and he thinks he deserves to die. My grandfather was the same way, and he just let the cancer take him.” He put his arms around Susan and drew her head to his shoulder. She didn’t hug him back, but she didn’t pull away either, her body cold and his so warm. “The only thing I’ll say is don’t leave things between you unsaid. You’ll regret it. You need to go talk to your father, even if you have to throw the rest of your family out of the room.”

 

He was right, but Susan wasn’t ready for that. “I’ll go. Not today, though.”

 

He held her by the shoulders at arm’s length, locking eye with her. “Don’t wait too long, okay? He’s not going to fight it.”

 

Susan nodded. She walked him to the door and let him out, and she locked it before she went to her bedroom and lay down to cry. There was only one comfort for her right now, and she could pretty much guarantee she wouldn’t be able to reach Jim. Still, she stretched her arm out and took her phone from the bedside table.

 

She sniffled and frowned when she saw a missed call and listened to his message. Dammit! He’d called about an hour and a half ago. She dialed him back in a hurry. When she got his voicemail, she just hung up and cried harder.

 

Angry at Jim, at herself, and mostly, at life, she screamed and threw her phone against the wall. She watched pieces hit the ground without caring. She was tired of being alone, and she knew she was wallowing in self-pity, but she didn’t care. She just wanted someone to comfort her. Even if he was a stranger, Jim did that—with his touch, and the way he looked at her when she touched him.

 

But it didn’t matter. Susan wasn’t the top priority in Jim’s life, and she never would be. The Steel Talons would always be his main focus, and that didn’t leave much room for her. Of course, she didn’t want to be his ‘old lady’, but she wanted to feel special; she didn’t want to take a backseat to a group of men who would likely end up dead or in prison.

 

It figured. She’d never been at the top of anyone’s list, and she didn’t expect to be. All she could do was hope that, somewhere along the way, while Jim was out doing whatever it was he did with his brothers on the road, he might at least think to call her back.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

 

Jim sat on his new ride in a remote dirt canyon off I5, just south of the Washington border, smoking a cigarette and scowling at the dust and dirt already marring his baby. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

 

Boxer chuckled. “She really is a sexy ride, man. Sorry this had to be her first time out.”

 

Jim shrugged. “I took her for a short spin earlier. I just wish I had a name for her before we both get buried.”

 

“Rita. The most beautiful woman I ever met was named Rita. She had a talented pair of lips, giant melons, and a waist the size of my wrist. I could wrap one of my hands all the way around that waist, but I couldn’t hold her tits with both.” Boxer shook his head, his eyes misty with distant memory.

 

Amused, Jim asked, “So you think I should name my bike Rita?”

 

“Of course! That bike deserves the  name of the most beautiful woman in the world.” Boxer was dead serious, and Jim searched his brain, trying to remember Rita. He couldn’t remember either of them ever being interested in a woman without telling the other. But he didn’t remember anyone named Rita.

 

It didn’t matter. “I can’t,” Jim said. “My grandmother’s name was Rita. I can’t name my ride after a woman who took thirty minutes to shuffle across the living room. It would be an insult.” He patted the bike’s side lovingly. “I was thinking Sheila. It’s nice and feminine but strong, too.”

 

“I guess Sheila works.” Boxer’s disgruntled reply made Jim laugh out loud, though the humor was short-lived. He could hear the rumble of bikes in the distance, and he wondered if it would be his last laugh. He reached back to touch the gun at his back, and then down to his boot, where he’d hidden a Bowie knife. It was all the security he had, and he considered texting Susan. But that was desperate, and he was out of time anyway—the group of Diablos Blancos had already come around the bend and pulled into the canyon.

 

Jim swung off the bike, lining up with the others, shoulders squared. They could start out with all the civility in the world, but something was going to break down, and Jim was ready. He tossed the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and watched the cloud of dust fall back to the earth as the group of men came to a stop in front of them.

 

Rechoncho was the first to dismount, followed by Sauza. The two men looked so much alike it was frightening, but Rechoncho’s face was round with fat, his stomach bulging over his belt, whereas Sauza gave the impression of having just stepped out of the gym. Rechoncho moved slowly to stand just feet in front of Ari, and their eyes locked, each wearing a confident smile.

 


Hola, gringo
. What have you for me?” Rechoncho grunted.

 

Jim watched the line of Mexicans, but he cast a quick glance at Ari, catching the scowl on his face as he spoke. “I got shit. You called this meeting. What do you have for me?”

 

“You offer us ten percent,” Sauza said, his eyes locking on Jim’s. Jim gave a short nod. “My brother feels this is insulting. But we are not greedy,
ese
. We don’t ask much, you know. Only what the job is worth.”

 

“I told you we weren’t going to negotiate,” Ari argued.

 

Jim cleared his throat. “What is it you want, Sauza? What do you think the job is worth?” If he left this up to Ari, none of them were going to make it home, except in body bags.

 

Rechoncho laughed, a deep, ugly sound. “Hey,
jefe
, I like your man here. He has some brains. It would be stupid not to listen and make me blow them out.”

 

Ari stepped forward, his hand at his back, and Jim grabbed his arm. “We’re listening,” he said, as much for Ari’s benefit as for the Diablos.

 

Sauza nodded. “Fifteen percent. We want $75,000 per run, and we will be satisfied. That’s a bargain. We work with the Santos for deliveries down south, and we pay them twenty percent. Think of it as a peace offering.”

 

“Fuck that!” Ari exploded, a vein in his temple throbbing visibly in the dim light of sunset. “It’s ten percent or nothing, asshole!”

 

“Shut up!” Jim hollered, shoving Ari back, the sound of guns being pulled loud behind him. He rounded and faced the line of Diablos, their guns in hand. His men stood in the same position. He drew his and Ari’s, not trusting his leader to hold his temper.

 

“Maybe you will reconsider your answer,
jefe
,” Rechoncho said. He raised his gun and pointed it at Ari. “My men are fast. They will kill your men after I shoot you and before anyone can kill me for shooting you.”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Jim told him. “Your request is reasonable enough to take into consideration. The problem is, we don’t have all our men here to make the decision. We gave you a chance to take our offer back to the group, Sauza. All I want is the same courtesy.”

 

Sauza gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Go back to your clubhouse, talk to your men, and let us know. You have 72 hours to respond. If you agree, we will meet you back here with your first shipment. If you don’t, things will not go so smoothly for you.” He made a show of putting his gun away, and the others followed suit. Jim nodded to his men to do the same, and he tucked both pistols into his pants and shot Ari a warning look.

 

Jim waited for all the rival gang to mount their rides and drive out in a line. Digger and Donnie started to climb on their bikes, but Jim waved them off, wanting the sound of those engines out of hearing range before they even considered leaving. He lit a cigarette; smoking should kill plenty of time. He stood there and tried to relax as he pulled out his phone and cursed at the call he’d missed from Susan.

 

He heard Boxer groan and raised his gaze. “What the hell is your problem?”

 

“Man, you got through this whole thing and didn’t lose your cool. Now, you’re staring at your phone looking all kinds of pathetic, and I’m guessing you want to talk to your girl.” Boxer shook his head. “What is it about that woman that keeps you so interested?”

 

“Nothing, Boxer. Let it go.” How could he tell Boxer when he wasn’t sure himself? “My head’s on straight, whether you believe it or not.”

 

“Whatever.” He leaned in and spoke more quietly. “What the hell was that, anyway? You’re catching hell from Ari as soon as we get home. I hope you know that.”

 

Jim shrugged. “I can take it. He made a bad call, and he almost got us all killed. If we go to war with these guys, we at least need some sort of advantage. Numbers, bigger weapons, cover. Out here, we’re asking to die. All I did was make a call that kept us alive for another 72 hours.” He glanced around Boxer’s huge frame to see Ari kick at the dirt while he cursed and shouted. “He’s losing it, bro. Can’t you see it?”

 

“He’s got a death wish or something, that’s for sure.” Boxer punched his shoulder playfully. “You were there yourself not so long ago, I think. But seriously, what are we supposed to do about it? We’ve already voted, and the vote said we were going to the Diamondbacks when the Diablos turned down the offer. We can’t go back and vote again.”

 

“Yes, we can,” Jim argued. “They didn’t refuse. They negotiated. And if you’d had the balls to vote against Ari, we wouldn’t be considering those skinheads as an alternative. So, we go back and vote on the new deal. It’s not so much different, and I think it’ll pass. Ari’s going to freak out, but it’s what’s best for the club.”

 

Boxer bared his teeth, and Jim didn’t wait for the impending fight. “Let’s ride!” he called and threw his cigarette aside before climbing on his bike and revving the engine. All he wanted right now was to get home, take a shower, and see if Susan minded a midnight call. He had a feeling her arms – and legs – would be open to welcome him.

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