Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (14 page)

"It's okay. I imagine it tastes good with or without cutting it first," she said.

He stared at her.

She finished chewing the piece of steak and swallowed, surprised at how wonderful and tender the meat was. All the while, Jacko watched her.

"What?" She grabbed a paper napkin off the bed.

He shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever went through his head. "Nothing."

"Come on. You were thinking something."

He shoved the last bite of potato in his mouth, picked up his bread, and walked across the room and threw his garbage away. "Do you think most people miss the little things in life or do they think as long as they've got the bigger things like a roof over their head, food in their stomach, and can sleep safely at night that the little things no longer matter?"

She held on to the container of food and thought about his question. "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking. Do you mean you wonder if people can be happy with less?"

He swayed, studying her intently

The question obviously important to him, she set her food container on the bed. "I think so."

He stilled. "Even if everything and everyone familiar is gone and the life they once had is no longer..."

She blew out her breath. "I think it would depend on the person and how strong they are to adapting to new things."

Jacko often spurted nonsense, but everything about him changed when she answered. He'd calmed and looked her in the eyes. His breathing slowed and he held on to every word.

She stood, but before she could go to him, he turned and headed for the door.

"Finish eating, I'll be back in a few minutes." The door closed behind him.

Unsettled, because he was unsettled, she peeked out the window from behind the curtain. Jacko stood in front of his motorcycle. His hands fisted at his sides. Had he meant the question to feel her out about her living with him at the motel?

He should know enough about her to realize she adapted to changes because she had no other choice. At least here, she wasn't alone. She didn't need metal forks.

I
n front of the abandoned gas station five miles out of Federal, a marked black sedan sat warning Jacko of the dangers that his informant was right, and Los Li came for him. Jacko swept his gaze from left to right. He could picture at one time a convenience store to the right of the garage. Two, maybe three, pumps standing in overgrown weeds covering the broken asphalt.

The charred remains of the building still present in the blackened metal pieces littering the area and the broken, faded, yellow police tape flapped in the wind. Jacko dug the heel of his boot into the rocky dirt. The concrete block garage and metal door was the only thing standing.

"Los Li has money coming out of their ass and they hide out here?" Cam lit a cigarette. "Something doesn't feel right."

Meese slipped a full clip into his pistol and clicked the safety off. "Unless they're desperate for women, and they know pulling us away from them opens the door to them attacking closer to home."

"All the Moroad women are covered," Cam said.

"It's not the women they're after." Jacko broke his silence. "It's not even Amy they want."

"They tried to put a bullet in her head for nothing?" Meese spit on the ground.

"Talk, brother," Cam muttered.

He'd fooled Los Li in their own game. To a gang who depended on their reputation to survive in the states, he'd made them a laughing stock. One man against many, he'd left four dead men in his path and walked away with the prize.

Los Li figured out a way to stop him, and they'd contacted Amy to bring him out of the shadows. He removed his pistol from the back of his jeans. What they assumed was that he'd be easy to pick off.

"They want to stop me from taking out their men and Quijada," he said.

"Quijada is their link to Reds," Cam said. "He's scheduled to be released from prison in—"

"Nineteen days." Jacko looked at his president. "They won't stop me from burying him in the ground. He's the last Reds member who was involved in kidnapping Sarah. After that, there's only Flores and nobody will stand between him and me, and risk getting killed in the crossfire. I'm hoping Flores is inside that shell of a garage and I'll be that much closer to ending this once and for all."

He had to finish the job he started over five years ago. If he failed, Los Li would get what they wanted. What they'd waited for until the time was right and what he'd kept hidden the whole time. He'd never give them the chance.

"Let's get business taken care of then." Cam tossed his smoke and nodded at Jacko. "On your call, we're ready."

Unfortunately, with all of them in and out of prison, they hadn't had time to work together, know each other's signs, and grow together, predicting how the other guy would move. What Jacko knew and Meese and Cam understood was tonight he had to call the shots. He had all the confidence his president and his MC brother had his back.

If he died tonight, Amy would be safe. Los Li would be satisfied with his body no longer breathing. And, because he'd prepared for the moment his life would end, his obligations would be covered.

Calmness came over him. He walked a straight path to the garage. He fully expected to go back to the motel, back to Amy, and end the nightmare tonight.

The concrete made it impossible to hear any noise from outside. His first move all came down to timing.

He lifted one finger, breathed, and relaxed his grip on his pistol. He'd gone into his plan for tonight all wrong. He made a fist, stopping Cam and Meese from moving forward. One way or another, Los Li expected him to approach them, looking for a fight. They'd anticipate a wait or at the very least, a surprise attack.

"They won't expect crazy," he muttered, shoving his pistol under his belt and walking back to Meese. "Hand me your knife."

"What the fuck for?" Meese slid the seven-inch hunting knife from his belt.

Jacko ran the flat of the blade across his tongue and grinned. "Cause these motherfuckers are going down and you're going to help me."

"I'm going to—"

Jacko moved behind Meese and had the knife at Meese's throat stopping him from parroting his words. He walked his MC brother twenty-five paces from the building, turned them both toward the door, and spoke to Cam. "Make some noise, Prez."

"You get me killed, I'm going to fucking come after you when I'm dead," Meese said through clenched teeth.

Cam rapped the butt of his pistol against the metal door. Jacko's hold on Meese tightened. Somewhere, Los Li watched. Whether from inside the building, cameras, or behind him, his skin crawled with eyes on his every move.

"Come on, fuckers. Open the damn door. I want to trade," yelled Jacko.

Meese struggled to turn his head. "Never mind Los Li killing you. I'm going to fucking shove that knife straight through your heart."

"Keep talking pretty to me, baby," Jacko whispered. "I'm starting to get hard."

"You son of a bitch," mumbled Meese.

Cam banged on the door again.

The wait too long, Jacko realized nobody was inside. He let go of Meese, turned, and pulled out his pistol. He walked parallel to the building and shot eight times in random places. When the magazine was empty of bullets, he pulled another mag out of his pocket and popped it into the butt of his gun.

"All right, amigo." A dark-skinned man with a baseball cap walked out from behind the trees. "You want to talk; I'll talk with you. Los Li is not accepting of a trade."

Jacko kept his pistol trained on the man. "What's your name?"

"I am Perro." He held up his hands. "The men you are looking for are gone. It's only me."

"How old are you, Perro?" Jacko put his pistol at his side.

"I'm twenty."

Fuck. The kid was a baby. Jacko walked over to Perro and motioned for him to lift his arms. He patted him down, found a pistol in his back pocket, a knife at his side, and spare ammo in his sock.

Jacko threw the weapons off into the grass. "Who made the shot in town today that hit my woman?"

Perro shook his head. Jacko glanced at Cam to his left, Meese to his right. Nobody had to tell him Perro had all the information he needed.

He stepped closer and pushed the tip of the knife into the underbelly of Perro's chin. "Give me names or you die."

Perro closed his eyes an extra beat and swallowed, his skin pushing against the knife. Jacko twisted his hand a quarter turn, letting the tip of the blade pierce the sweat covered skin.

"A name." Jacko leaned into the knife.

Perro's Adam's apple bobbed. "Flores."

"Who else?"

"Nobody." Perro swallowed and the knife pricked his skin again. "I was with him. H-he is sending money to my family back home for me to stay here and listen to you."

The kid didn't even suspect his gang of giving him up for dead. More importantly, why wasn't Flores right hand man here doing the job? "Where's Rivera?"

Perro grimaced and tried to pull away from the blade. "Dead."

Jacko lowered the knife, surprised to hear Flores came into the states without protection and relied on a young man. "How?"

"Crossing the border. Nuerevos, the cártel, intercepted him, roughed him up, and held him hostage." Perro panted. "The mafia...they wouldn't pay for his return. His head showed up, but his body was gone. Señor Flores came to my family and asked for a replacement to work with Los Li. I volunteered to avenge my father."

Jacko laughed and pushed the kid away from him. "Buy a GPS, dude. You're a long way away from Mexico to go after a cártel."

The young punk's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. "I'm not after the cártel."

"Who then?" Jacko held out his arms. "Me?"

"My father was coming across the border to kill you when he was murdered." Perro's voice shook. "An eye for an eye."

"Go back home to your mother's tit, boy." Jacko stepped forward. "Your father got what he deserved."

Perro lunged barehanded. Jacko wrapped his arm around Perro's neck, shoving him to the ground. The knife back at his neck.

"You wish to join your father?" Jacko pressed the knife into Perro's throat.

Perro spit. "I will kill you."

"You're a pussy." Jacko exhaled. "Start praying."

Perro defiantly stared up, refusing to do as instructed. Jacko grabbed Perro's hair, turned his head, and slashed him across the throat. He leaned down and before Perro lost consciousness and his heart quit beating, he whispered, "Tell your father when you get to hell, I win."

The blood streaming out of Perro's neck no longer bubbled, but trickled out in a steady torrent. Jacko rose to his feet.

"Are you sending a message or getting rid of the body?" Cam walked over and picked up the pistol and knife Jacko had thrown away from Perro.

"I'll bury him. There's rocks on the hillside behind the garage. It won't be too difficult to cover him. Nobody lives out here. He'll be decomposed in no time." Jacko picked up Perro's feet and dragged him across the ground.

Cam and Meese followed. As he moved rocks at the base of the hill, he let the information he learned soak in. Rivera was dead. Flores was still out there and close to Federal. Quijada would walk out of prison soon.

In the meantime, Flores still had the means to hurt him. Next time, he wouldn't allow Flores to send a boy looking to avenge his father. He wanted to meet him face to face.

J
acko walked around the fire pit twice, stopped, and laid down in the grass on his back. Amy stood with the Moroad women by the table laden with food and an ice-filled cooler full of beer. Jacko was here with his club, but he wasn't here.

His body stayed alert and present, but he'd shut down on communicating or visiting.

He detached himself the moment he'd escorted her out of the motel room earlier when everyone started arriving for the meeting. Which meant he also pushed away from her.

The last two days, he'd gone through the motions of eating, taking care of business, making phone calls, and at night he laid perfectly still on the bed staring up at the ceiling. She'd tried to stay awake to find out if he ever slept, and lost the battle when her eyes burned and her thoughts grew fuzzy. She'd wake up, check on him, and he'd be in the same position on his back, eyes straight to the ceiling.

"Hey, Amy." Desiree waved her hand in front of Amy's face. "You're daydreaming."

She inhaled sharply and focused her attention on Desiree. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Nothing important. You were just lost in your thoughts and going by the frown on your face, I thought you might need someone to talk to." Desiree tipped her head to the side. "Is everything okay with you and Jacko?"

She gazed back out at Jacko. He hadn't moved. His eyes still pointed up into the sky. "There's something wrong with Jacko."

"He looks okay to me," said Desiree.

If okay meant ignoring her, never initiating conversation when they were in bed together, and staring out the window in the room when they were alone, then she was the crazy one.

He barely gave her yes or no answers. Not once had she woke up to find his head nestled between her breasts and his hand on her ass. They hadn't had sex in three days.

Jacko acted as if he wished he was somewhere else.

"Have you heard what happened when Jacko met with the Los Li members?" she asked.

His personality became more confusing since he came back to her after the meeting. She'd waited for him to inform her on what transpired, but he refused to talk about anything.

Desiree leaned closer. "I swear, I'd tell you if I knew what was going on, but I don't. The only reason I know what you're talking about is because Merk took me to Cam's house to stay with Christina, and Merk watched over us both while Cam rode out with Jacko."

Obviously, the Moroad men kept their women out of club business. Amy rolled her lips over teeth. Jacko claimed her for now, but that was only because she was involved in club business.

She put her hand on Desiree's arm. "I'll be right back."