Only Witness, The (21 page)

              “And I've got to go,” Susan spoke up. “I just got a text, there's trouble at The Old Man's place.”

              “What kind of trouble?”

              “The text wasn't really clear on that. I'm going to keep my phone on. I'll call you, keep you advised.”

              “This is bad, isn't it?” Vera looked between the two of them. The silence that followed was enough of an answer. Without another word she stepped back from Deacon, grabbed two duffel bags out of the closet and began to pack them full of anything she could imagine needing.             

              There were some things she didn't necessarily need but grabbed anyway, the small box of jewelry that her grandmother had left her, along with the fireproof box which contained all of her important papers.

              Susan left before she got the bags zipped, a grim expression on her face. Vera picked up the bags, turned to face Deacon. “I'm ready.”

              “Give me those,” he moved close to her and took the bags from her hand. “I know that you're scared, but we're going to be okay.”

              There was no way that he could know that, Vera knew it and so did he, but she didn't argue the point. Instead she let her arms slide around his neck, stretched up to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I know that we will be.”

              Deacon drove once they got down to the car; it was no real surprise to Vera. For some reason she couldn't imagine him riding bitch. She also couldn't stop imagining him in the back of the police truck. The idea terrified her because of something that Susan had mentioned, she'd said that Deacon's kind didn't do well in jail, repressing the change was possible but not pleasant and it couldn't be put off indefinitely. Eventually they changed or they died.

              She was not going to lose Deacon, not slowly and painfully like that. No, it was not an option. No matter what they had to do to keep him out of jail, Vera was one hundred percent behind that plan.

              It didn't take long to get to the warehouse, not at all. Something was off. This time of day there should have been at least three or four bikes outside, maybe even one or two scantily dressed women hanging outside smoking, but there were no bikes to be seen.

              “Son of a bitch,” Deacon swore. “Stay in the car until I tell you otherwise.”

              “Not going to happen,” Vera shook her head. “I'm going with you. I'm not staying out here alone.”

              They got out of the car and walked to the door. Deacon opened it and stepped in first. Vera was struck by the silence. She'd never been inside before, but she'd expected noise, music of some sort and maybe the sound of a rousing game of pool.

              There was no one in the outer room. Vera had never been inside but she couldn't imagine it normally looked like this. Every piece of furniture was upended or destroyed. There was broken glass and the distinct scent of blood in the air. Even she could smell it.

              Deacon reached out and took her hand, he motioned for her to follow him and to be quiet. The closer that they got to the back of the warehouse, the more tense he became. Vera tried to keep her cool, but it was getting harder.

              “Stay here,” he hissed the words as they approached the back of the warehouse and a closed door. There was a rhythmic thumping coming from inside, it had gotten louder and louder as they got closer.

              Vera listened, not sure that she wanted to see what was on the other side of the door, but she couldn't help looking when Deacon stepped inside.

              Houdini was bound, hands cuffed to an overhead pipe. There was a gag in his mouth and the thumping sound was him trying like hell to get loose. He began to work harder as he saw them, the pipe seemed to be giving way as Deacon moved forward immediately to help him and then stopped.

              The sound that came from Deacon made Vera start to cry, he dropped to his knees and she moved forward, unsure of what she should do or say as he knelt before the body on the floor. She hadn't known Whiskey well but it was obvious to her that he had meant something to Deacon.

              “It was Master,” there was a thud as Houdini's feet hit the floor, he tossed the gag that had been in his mouth. The pipe was hanging down from the ceiling and Houdini just looked pissed. “The fuckhead called church. I thought that it was something about you, I got here and he put a vote on the table for a patch over.”

              “A patch over? To what?”

              “The Grievers,” Houdini replied.

              “The Grievers?” Deacon rose to his feet. “They did this?”

              “This was all our guys, Deke,” Houdini's voice cracked. “Even Bug and Jake went with the vote, it was just me and Whiskey who went against it.”

              “What happened to him?”

              “After the vote, there were fireworks. Everyone was screaming and yelling, Whiskey was the loudest. He was reading Master the riot act and then... then he just collapsed. I tried to get to him but they grabbed me.”

              Vera stepped forward, laid her hand on his back. “Tell me what you need, Deke.”

              He remained stiff at her touch but then relaxed some. “I need a minute. Houdini, take Vera with you and get everything that we've got here. Are those their cuts?”

              “Yeah, Boss.”

              “Burn 'em.”

              “Got it. Come on, Vera.”

              She looked over when Houdini touched her arm. One look at Deacon told her he didn't realize anyone was in the room. Vera stroked her hand over his back anyway before she followed Houdini out of the room.

              “Alright, they probably took some shit with them. Go into the first room on the left, there's a duffel bag under the bed and a foot locker inside the closet. Open the locker and empty it into the bag. Keep one for you.”

              It dawned on Vera that he was talking about a gun. “Whoa, hold on. I don't know how to use a gun.”

              “Not really that much different from a video game,” he told her. “After you fill the bag, leave it in the hall and move on to the next room.”

              Vera watched as he walked past her. She knew what she had to do, but it was still an effort to get her legs to move. Deacon's emotions, his pain was coming through so clearly that she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to function. It was all so vivid and heavy and she couldn't tell if it was grief for what had happened to the club or what had happened to his friend. She wasn't well versed in the whole MC world but it went to figure a club would need to have more than two breathing members to be a club.

              She finally reached the room, opened the door not sure what to expect. The room was pretty neat, a little bare. Vera realized that it was Houdini's room when she saw the drawing of his bike on the nightstand. No one else would draw his bike. His talent made her smile for a moment before she got back to her task.

              There were four long guns, rifles of some sort and half a dozen handguns. Vera handled the three grenades she found gently and swallowed hard at the length of some of the knives she found. Maybe swords would be a better description. Either way she was filled with dread as she set the bag down in the hall.

              “Hey,” she turned at the sound of Deacon's voice. “You okay?”

              “I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm so sorry about your friend and the club stuff, I wish there was something that I could do to make it better.”

              “You do make it better.” He closed the distance between them, put his hand on her face. “I don't know what's about to happen but it's going to be rough. It might be better if you just left town right now.”

              “I'm not leaving you, Deke. It is not an option. Whatever comes next, we're in it together.”

              For a long moment he said nothing, just staring down at her like he'd either never seen her before or would never see again. Vera was about to break the silence when an almost smile crossed his face. “You need a gun.”

              Vera knew it wasn't a suggestion. It was a statement. “You need to show me.”

              “I will.”

              “I made the calls, Boss.” Houdini walked over. “Got Charlie and Ed on their way over, they'll take Whiskey over to the funeral home, handle the death certificate and all.”

              “Good. Thank you.”

              “Did Susan answer?”

              Houdini shook his head. “Nah, I left a message for her to call me back.”

              “We need to get out there quickly. Get the truck ready. I'm going to take Vera out back, let her get used to the gun and then we'll go.”

              Vera wasn't exactly sure that a few minutes of instruction was going to be enough to get her used to the gun. Hell, she wasn't sure she'd ever get used to it, but she was going to try and she would learn. She was surrounded by violence, it was stupid to think that it wouldn't touch her, and she wasn't stupid. If the gun could keep her safe and help her keep everyone around her safe, she'd sleep with it.

              “You're only using it as a last resort,” Deacon moved over to the bag that she'd brought out of Houdini's room and selected one of the handguns. “You ever shot a gun before?”

              “Video games don't count, right?”

              “No, but that might help you some with your aim,” he smiled at her. “I didn't see a game system in your apartment.”

              “You didn't look in the dresser drawer beneath the television,” Vera smiled back. “I keep everything in there, plenty of room for everything.”

              “We're going to play whatever your favorite game is and I'm going to kick your ass.”

              Vera laughed, she knew that he was trying to lighten the mood and she appreciated it more than she could say. This connection they had, empathy or whatever Susan had called it, really had some advantages to it. They were closer than they would have been otherwise, and it was nice that he could feel her apprehension and try to make her more comfortable. “We'll see about that.”

Chapter EIGHTEEN

              Deacon stiffened as he passed the spot where Finn had died; he pressed on without a second look. Houdini rode next to him and Vera was behind them in the SUV, which was loaded down with all the weapons they'd taken from the warehouse.

              Whiskey was dead. It still hadn't really registered, even though he'd seen him, touched his cooling skin and knew that the man who had been very much a father to him all of his life was gone. Not taking anything away from Anthony Hawke, he'd been a great and caring father. Deacon loved him even though he knew that his father had loved his brother more. His mother had, too, but they'd loved him too.

              It had been enough for him, or so he'd thought. Deacon hadn't realized there was something empty inside of him until he'd started as a hang-around with The Vikings. Being a Brother had filled a big space inside of him.

              Even when Finn was gone, when his parents died in a single car accident on the mountain road and he was the last left in his family, the club and the brotherhood had brought him through. He'd known all of these guys for years and couldn't wrap his head around the fact that they'd betrayed him.

              He was angry at all of them, though he understood that Bug and Jake essentially had no choice with their connection to the club. He was furious at Master. Deacon was going to rip out his friend’s throat with a smile on his face. After everything they'd been through together, the sheer level of trust that Deacon had bestowed on him only to be stabbed in the back. He would not let that go unanswered.

              This was going to be a cluster fuck, he knew it. Before they'd left the warehouse he'd taken Houdini on the sign and been very clear that if shit got bad he was to get Vera out by any means necessary. Deacon didn't know what they were walking into, but he knew it wouldn't be good.

              There were numerous cars in front of The Old Man's house, parked on the gravel and on the grass around. It looked like the whole pack had shown up. Deacon looked back to where Vera was getting out of the truck.

              Why hadn't she let him send her away? Movement from the tree line broke Deacon out of his thoughts. Seconds later, Lina emerged dressed in a pair of jeans and flannel shirt mostly covered by a down jacket. She held her finger over her lips, motioned for them to approach her.

              “I'm not sure I trust her, Deke,” Vera spoke in a soft voice as she came up next to him.

              “Depends what she's really here to offer. It's a lot to explain. I'm going to need you to trust me, Vera. To go along with whatever I decide, trust me.” Deacon knew that he was asking for a lot from her, he was asking for trust he hadn't earned, even with the empathy that had bound them together.

              “I do trust you, Deke, I thought you realized. I'm all in. As crazy as that might make me, it's what I know I want. No, wait, what I need. I feel like I just need you.”

              Deacon felt his heart swell; he'd heard the expression before and never really understood it. Now he did. It was like everything he was had expanded, grown, and the love he felt for Vera had been the catalyst to change everything he ever knew.

              “It looks like I'm interrupting a touching moment, my apologies.” Lina approached them. “We don't have much time, and you shouldn't have humans. No offense,” she shot a small smile towards Houdini and Vera. “Come with me.”

              “I need to settle a few things,” Deacon chose his words carefully, not wanting to lose his temper, though he was close, really close.

              “You need to come with me first. You need to hear what I've heard. Look, you've got no real reason to trust me, I get that. But do you trust this?” Lina reached into her jacket pocket, removed something and tossed it to Deacon.