Iron Goddess (16 page)

Monster flagged down Goatsy again. “We got a change of clothes for my goddaughter? She needs something to wear while her clothes dry.”

Goatsy looked at Shea. “Let me see what I can come up with.” He hustled down the hallway.

“Goddaughter?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I know you blame the club for your mama's death. But in my mind, you're still my goddaughter. You and Wendy both.”

Shea let it sink in.

Moments later Goatsy brought Shea a faded Sturgis T-shirt and pair of drawstring sweatpants. “The pants are a bit short on me but they should fit you.”

“Thanks. I should have the pants back to you in a bit. I may need to hang on to the shirt a little longer.”

“Keep 'em long as you need.” He hustled off.

“The dryer still where it used to be?” Shea asked Monster.

“Same place, newer model.”

She carried the clothes down the hall to the bathroom. A handwritten note taped to the wall advised people to use the sliding bolt lock rather than the lock in the doorknob. She wriggled out of the windbreaker and slipped off the wet jeans, socks, and underwear. The bandage on her leg was similarly soaked. She peeled it off. The scabs that had formed were now soft and oozy. The skin glowed bright red.

The medicine cabinet contained no first-aid supplies. She squeezed a glop of hand sanitizer into her palm and smeared it across the tattered flesh of her road rash. The alcohol burned like fire on her exposed nerves, causing her to wince.

She looked at the shirt and sweatpants Goatsy loaned her. Her skin crawled at the idea of putting on a strange man's clothes, especially without any underwear.
God, I hope he don't have crabs or anything else contagious.
How would she explain that to Jessica? She gritted her teeth and pulled them on. The pants were a little long, the shirt baggy. She pulled the windbreaker over it.

At the end of the hall, she popped the wet clothes into the dryer and returned to the clubhouse's main room.

Wendy sat at a table with several other bikers' old ladies on the other side of the room. They were all skinny with long hair and way too much makeup. Aside from her sister, Shea didn't recognize any of them. All of the women's eyes were on Wendy, as if she were holding court as the young queen of the club. Their expressions were somber and consoling. An older woman in a tube top held Wendy's hand.

Is that Monster's old lady?
wondered Shea.
What was her name? Julia?

Hunter walked up to Shea, brooding. “We got the money. One-Shot and Mackey are putting it in duffel bags now.”

“How'd you come up with four million so quickly?”

His eyes narrowed. “None of your business.”

“Fair enough. You got a computer I can use? The kidnapper told me to post an ad on craigslist once we have the ransom.”

“Yeah, in the office. I'll show you.”

She followed him back down the hallway to a door on the left. He pulled out a set of keys and opened up a small office decorated with framed photos, biker memorabilia, and an assortment of Confederate flags. A rolltop desk sat in one corner with a computer and monitor. She sat down, logged into her craigslist account, and created a personal ad with the subject “Come Home Annie.” In the body of the ad, she wrote, “Your room is ready, but no allowance until you're safe.” She added Oscar's phone number.

“What's that mean?” He pointed to the text.

“It means he doesn't get the ransom without first giving us Annie.”

“Now what?”

“We wait for the kidnapper to tell us where and when to make the drop.”

They returned to the main room. She joined Monster, though the two sat without saying anything. The music had been turned off, replaced by an occasional creak of the building or the scrape of a chair across the floor. During her childhood, this room would shake with raucous laughter or the odd heated argument. The silence made Shea's ears ring.

An hour later, Oscar's phone dinged. The kidnapper had sent a text message with a video. “Better get Hunter,” she said to Monster.

He brought Hunter and Wendy both, who stood behind Shea's chair.

Shea looked up at Wendy. “Maybe you shouldn't see this.”

Wendy's chin trembled. “Play it.”

Shea did so. On the screen, Annie held up a tablet displaying the current time and date with large, readable numbers. A strip of gauze wrapped around her head held a bulky, blood-soaked bandage where her right ear had been, reminiscent of van Gogh's self portrait. “Mommy,” she sobbed.

“What've they done to my baby?” Wendy's knees buckled. Hunter grabbed her and put her in a chair.

Monster held out his hand. “The time on that tablet she's holding could be faked. Lemme check the time stamp on the video.”

“How you know about time stamps?” Shea handed it to him.

“From my granddaughter there.” He adjusted his bifocals. “Video was shot about an hour ago.”

He was handing it back to Shea when it rang. No caller ID appeared on the screen.
Was it the kidnapper or someone trying to reach Oscar?

She answered it. Her insides shook. “Hello.”

“Is this Che?” The same Mexican voice mispronounced her name.

“Yes.”

“Why you using Oscar's phone?”

“Borrowed it from him.”
What else could she say?
The connection went silent for a moment. “You still there?”

“You like the present I send to you?”

Her body trembled as she resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room. “I just want Annie back.”

“You got my money, Che?”

She looked up at Hunter, not sure if he'd told her the truth. “We got it.”

“All of it?”

“All four million dollars.”

“
Bueno
. Bring the money to 1437 North San Juan Boulevard in Ironwood. Be there at midnight. Just you. If I see anyone else, I kill them, you, and the girl.
Comprende?
”

“I understand.” Her voice shook with anger.

“If you call the cops, I kill you and the girl.
Comprende?
”

“Yes, I
comprende
.”

“If all the money isn't there, if there are any sequential bills, if there are any tracking devices…”

“Yeah, yeah, you'll kill me and you'll kill the girl. I got it. Now here are my demands, asshole. I don't let go of the money until Annie's safe. Otherwise, I will light the whole bag of money on fire and you get nothing.
Comprende?
”

“What are you doing?” Hunter whispered between gritted teeth.

“Oh, so you making the rules now,
gringa
? Let me remind you I'm in charge. Not you.” Annie screamed in the background.

Shea's jaw clenched. “What did you do, asshole?”

“I see you at midnight,
gringa
.” The call ended.

Hunter grabbed her shirt collar. “What the hell you doing? Getting my little girl killed?”

She grabbed a fistful of his braided beard, gave it a yank. He released her collar.

“I'm making sure he doesn't take the money without giving us Annie,” she said.

He rubbed his chin, glaring at her. “Where's the drop?”

She gave him the address, then looked it up on the map app on the phone. “It's in the Ironwood Barrio. Probably an abandoned building.”

He pointed a finger at her. “You better not have messed this up, you fucking dyke. Anything happens to my Annie, you die, ya hear me?”

She stood up and got in his face. “Maybe if you weren't dealing crystal, nobody woulda took Annie in the first place.”

His left eye twitched, but he said nothing.

Shea marched outside and stood on the front steps staring out at the night, bristling with rage. She kicked one of the wooden columns and left a dent with the toe of her boot.

The door opened and she wheeled around, fists raised.

Monster held up his hands in surrender. “Easy, kiddo. It's me.”

Shea grunted as she paced along the porch.

“Don't pay him no mind, Shea. He's worried bout his little girl is all.”

“I think I may have got her killed.”

Monster sighed. “You done what you thought was right.”

A chill ran down her spine, coupled with a sense of déjà vu. “You said that to me before.”

“Did I?” Monster crinkled his forehead, then nodded. “When was that?”

“After Ralph's trial. Why'd you say that to me?” A growing sense of dread gripped her.

“Yeah, I remember now. Why you wanna stir up old hurts?”

“Please, Monster. Tell me the truth.”

“It was after you testified your old man acted in self-defense.”

Shea shook her head. “No, that was Wendy. I would never.”

“Kiddo, you're a little confused. Wendy never testified. She wasn't in the room when your Daddy…”

Shea's stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot. “Why would I do that? It makes no sense.”

“Sweetie, you were scared. That shyster lawyer your old man hired bamboozled you, got your head all twisted round. Said you and your sister'd end up in the system, away from the club with no one to take care of you.”

“No! It can't be true. Please, tell me it isn't true.” As she said it, the memory of the lawyer's words cut like a knife in her gut. “How could I have forgotten that?”

“Hell, I ain't no shrink. But you sure was tore up when you realized what you done.” He put his arm around her. “That's when you ran away.”

Shame wrapped around her throat. Her lungs constricted, and she struggled for air.

“Relax, darlin'. It's all okay. The jury saw you for what you were.”

She took a deep breath. “A liar?”

“Naw, a scared little girl who witnessed something ain't nobody oughta see. Ralph still got what was coming to him.”

She remembered her mother's bloody face lying on the kitchen floor. “I'm a horrible person.”

“Don't you be thinking that. You're a good kid living in a not-so-good world.”

When she regained her composure, she asked, “Whatever happened to that lawyer?”

“Ended up getting shot by one of his clients. Must not have been satisfied with the service.”

“Guess not.”

“Everything'll be all right, kid.” Monster pulled a card from his wallet. “Here's my number. Call me if you ever need anything. Or even if you don't. I'd like to stay in touch.”

“Vernon Mueller, handyman? Huh, all this time, I never knew your real name.”

“Yeah, well, putting ‘Monster' on a business card kinda scares off customers.”

“I reckon it would.” She tucked the card into her wallet.

Mackey appeared in the doorway. “Yo, Monster, we got a meeting.”

Shea followed Monster and Mackey inside to a room down the hallway. A long Formica table was surrounded by an assortment of mismatched chairs. Mackey stepped in front of her, barring her entry. “Sorry, only patched members.”

“Is this about the drop?”

Hunter rose from his seat at the head of the table and strutted over to her. “This is a club meeting. You ain't welcome.”

“We'll be out in a bit, kiddo.” Monster put a hand on her shoulder. “Let us men talk for a bit.”

Shea glared at Hunter. “You best not put Annie at more risk.”

He tilted his head. “What kind of father you think I am?”

“You want me to answer that?”

He shoved her into the hallway and slammed the door in her face.

Shea slunk back to the laundry room, pulled her clothes out of the dryer, and slipped out of Goatsy's sweatpants, which she folded and set on the washing machine. Her now-dry clothes provided much-needed warmth.

Back in the main room, she took a seat at the unmanned bar. She considered helping herself to some whiskey, but opted for a cup of coffee instead.

The club's old ladies were still comforting Wendy, though the tone of the conversation had lightened. Wendy had them all enthralled with the tale of their capture and escape from the Jaguars, leaving out the part where she executed the man in the poppy field. The discussion then turned to shopping, manicures, guys with cute asses, and daycare nightmares.

None of it interested Shea in the least. Her left leg bounced on the barstool as she grew restless. She wasn't an old lady to be sequestered while the menfolk formulated their master plans. So far, all of Hunter's schemes had made things worse. At Iron Goddess, she was the decision maker.
Time to take charge,
she told herself.

She crept back to the room where the Thundermen were meeting and pressed her ear to the door. At first she couldn't make out what they were saying, but the conversation grew more lively and heated.

“I don't like this,” said Monster, his voice muffled. “What if someone realizes you substituted one of our guys for Shea? Or they find you padded the bundles of cash with newspaper before they give up Annie?”

“We'll all be there and will have the place surrounded,” replied Hunter. “If he tries something, we take him out. If he shows up without Annie, we'll force him to tell us where she is. And if she's…if she's not okay, he dies.”

Shea opened the door. A room full of eyes zeroed in on her. She felt like a juicy steak falling into a pack of wolves. But someone had to look out for Annie. “You're gonna get her killed.”

“Get the fuck out.” Hunter stood and kicked away his chair, sending it tumbling into the wall.

“Leave it to you boys to turn something simple into a complicated mess. Here's the rules. I go into the house, alone, with the ransom. None of you boys are to be anywhere near the place. If the kidnapper shows up without Annie, he gets no money. He already knows it.”

“Ain't no way I'm giving you four million of our money.”

“From what I heard, you boys don't have the full four mill.”

“Ain't none of your concern. She ain't your daughter.”

“What's wrong, Hunter? Ain't Annie worth four million dollars? You getting cheap on rescuing your daughter?”

Hunter charged at Shea with alarming speed, slamming her against the wall, his fist holding her up by her shirt collar. She tried to twist away, but his grip was too strong.

“Listen here, you fucking bitch. You are not in charge.
I
am. So as long as you're in my house, you do as I say.” He threw her to the side. She staggered back. Someone's leg swept her feet out from under her. They laughed when she collapsed onto the floor.

Shea scrambled up and flew at him, but strong hands held her back. She wriggled to break free, but it was no use.

“Easy, kid. Let it go.” Monster frowned at her. “Come on, I'll walk you out.” With a firm grip on her arm, he led her out of the room.

“He's putting her in danger, Monster.”

They walked down the hall to the laundry room. Monster shut the door behind them. “She's already in danger. Hunter's doing what needs to be done to control the situation.”

“So why not let me make the drop?”

“Darlin', he don't know you. Not sure he can trust you. Four million dollars, or however much he's got of it, is a lotta damn money.”

“What happens when the kidnapper discovers he ain't got the whole ransom?”

“We put in everything we got. It'll have to do.”

She looked at him. “You think he can get her back safe?”

“He don't always do things how I think he oughta, but then I ain't sittin' at the head of the table. He's brought us through some mighty tight situations on numerous occasions. I trust him. You busting in don't help things none.”

“Look, I'm not saying do everything the kidnapper says, but we gotta be smart about this. Soon as he sees it's not me making the drop, he's gonna know something's up.”

“I hear ya, but it ain't your call and it ain't mine. Hunter's in charge here.”

“Fine.” Her jaw clenched.
Like talking to a brick wall,
she thought.

“All right then. You hang out with the old ladies at the bar. The guys'll have a quick vote and then we'll all get this thing done.”

Fifteen minutes later, Hunter marched past her carrying the bags of money. A dozen Thundermen followed, armed with shotguns, rifles, pistols, and boxes of ammunition. Monster didn't glance at her when he walked past.

“Where y'all going?” Shea asked Monster. He didn't acknowledge her.

Shea trailed them out the front door to the parking lot, with Wendy right behind her. Despite the late hour the air had warmed again, now with the added humidity from the monsoon.

As Monster threw a leg over his bike, Shea grabbed his arm. “What about me?”

He cupped her chin. “Just wait here, kiddo. We'll be back with Annie soon enough.”

Wendy appeared beside her. “Take me with you, Papa. Please, I gotta see my daughter.”

“This ain't no situation for a couple o' girls. It's likely to get dangerous. Don't want you two getting into trouble.”

“Don't treat me like a child, Monster,” said Shea. “I'm the one the kidnapper's expecting, not any of y'all. I can take care of myself.”

“Papa, you can't leave me behind. She's my daughter.” Wendy stepped on the rear footpeg and pulled herself onto the passenger seat.

Monster twisted toward her, wrapped a meaty arm around her middle, and swung her back onto the blacktop. “Stay here. I mean it.” He started his bike and drove off. One by one the Thundermen roared off into the night, leaving a handful of Harleys and cars in the lot. Shea kicked the dirt, hating that she was once again stranded.

“C'mon.” Wendy pulled her back inside and they sat at an empty table. “Might as well wait in here. It's muggy out.”

“I'm not waiting around.” Shea pulled out the phone. “Yo, T, I could use a ride.”

“You're not still stranded in the middle of nowhere, are you? It's damn near ten o'clock.” He sounded concerned.

“I'm at the Confederate Thunder clubhouse. Hunter picked us up a few hours ago. But now they drove off to make the ransom drop without me. They're gonna screw this thing up and get Annie killed. I can't let them do that.”

“You want me to pick you up from the KKK Honeycomb Hideout? Did you forget I'm black?”

“There ain't no one here but a couple of prospects. I can stand outside the gate and wait for you.”

“And take you where? To the ransom drop?”

“Yeah.”

“Where all them cracker bikers are.”

“Well…”

“Tell me one thing: are they armed?”

“Yeah.” She understood his reluctance.

“Shea, I love you like a sister from another mister, but ain't no way in hell I'm driving my black ass to someplace surrounded by racist outlaw bikers armed to the teeth, looking for someone to kill.”

“T, if I don't make the drop, the kidnapper will kill Annie. I need you, man.”

“If you need me to pick you up, I will. But only to bring you back to my place. Jessica's already here.”

“No, that's all right. Tell her I love her. I gotta focus on saving Annie right now.”

“Stay safe, Shea.”

“I'll do my best.”

Wendy plopped a bottle of Jack and two glass tumblers on the table. “On the house.”

“No, thanks.” Shea pushed away her glass.

Wendy reached into her pocket and pulled out an amber pill bottle. “Here's something to help with your leg.”

Shea picked it up. “Vicodin? This from your guy Dopey?”

“Yeah. He's all out of Oxy at the moment.”

Her tumble down the wash had left Shea aching all over. A couple of these would really help. She grimaced and tossed it back at her sister. “No, thanks. I need to be able to concentrate.”

Wendy tucked the bottle back into her pocket. “Suit yourself. More for me.” She popped two into her mouth and chased them down with a long draft of whiskey.

Shea stared at Oscar's phone, flipping through his contacts and recently called numbers. All were unfamiliar names and numbers except one with the caller ID of Foster. Over the past few days, Oscar had made and received numerous calls from that number. Was Oscar working with Willie?

Shea showed the phone to Wendy. “Oscar's been talking with Willie at the Sheriff's Office.”

“Oscar's a rat?”

“That, or maybe the two of them got something else going on. I got a lead that one of the guys fencing my stolen motorcycles is a Jaguar. The other guy looked like a cop.”

“You think Willie broke into your shop?”

“I don't know. I've known the guy since forever. As cops go, he's all right. But how else do you explain the warrant for my arrest?”

“You think he kidnapped Annie, too?”

Shea shook her head. “I ain't sure what to think. I do know I can't just sit here.”

“What can you do? My car's wrecked, and your bike's at your place.”

Shea glanced at the prospect sitting at the bar, reading an issue of
Guns & Ammo
magazine. “I got an idea.” Shea walked outside, Wendy tailing her.

“What're you gonna do?”

In the gravel lot, under the dim light of a streetlamp, a Dodge Challenger sat parked next to a few remaining bikes. Shea crossed her fingers hoping for a break. She pulled on the Challenger's door handle, hoping to find it unlocked. It wasn't. Without a slim jim or something to pop the lock, her only other option was to break the window, which would attract attention.

She checked out each bike until she found what she was looking for. “Hallelujah. Someone left his key in the ignition. Must've figured it was safe enough sitting here at the Church.”

Wendy shook her head, a worried expression on her face. “You steal a bike, they'll crucify you.”

Shea looked her sister in the eye. “You trust your old man to bring Annie back alive?”

Wendy stared at the ground. “No.”

“Well?”

“Before we do this there's something you oughta know.”

“You already admitted you stole my prescription. I forgive you, all right?”

“No, not that. Something else.”

“What?”

Wendy looked her sister in the eye. “This is not how I planned for this to go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Honestly?”

“No, I want you to lie to me. Of course honestly.” Shea glared at Wendy, feeling her blood pressure rise.

“I needed help getting away from Hunter.”

“What kind of help?”

“Money, mostly. I don't make shit at my job. Hunter controls the bank accounts. So Eduardo came up with a plan.”

“Eduardo? Margaret's brother?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You made a plan with a member of the Jaguars? Are you insane?”

“He was supposed to pick me and Annie up from Margaret's after I got off work. He was gonna call Hunter and say he kidnapped us and was demanding a ransom. Not a lot. Just a few grand. Enough to get me started somewhere else.”

“I don't believe this. So what the hell happened?”

“I don't know. Eduardo don't know neither. I'm thinking he might have mentioned our plan to his cousin Oscar.”

“Oscar Reyes, the man that tortured you? The man that I killed? Geez, Wendy, when you fuck up, you really do it big-time. Couldn't ya have just gone to a women's shelter?”

“Look, I'm sorry, all right? I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Yeah, well, it happened. And now I gotta risk my ass again to keep your old man from fucking things up more.”

Shea threw a leg over the bike, trying to ignore the mixture of anger and frustration building in her mind. She needed to focus on the task at hand.

She familiarized herself with the controls of the bike. She was never a fan of Harleys, despite their popularity. They were overpriced, underpowered, and always in the shop. But being stranded as she was, she couldn't afford to be picky. She pulled on the half helmet the prospect had left dangling from the handlebars and started the engine. She had to admit the trademarked Harley rumble was a sexy sound.

Wendy climbed on behind her.

“What the hell you doing?” yelled Shea over the roar of the engine.

“If you're going, I'm going.”

“How am I supposed to bring back Annie if you're riding bitch?”

“We'll figure it out. Just drive.”

Shea wanted to argue, but it would have been pointless. What could she say to Wendy that the Thundermen hadn't said to her? She took off the helmet and handed it to Wendy. “Put this on.”