Overdosed: Fury's Storm MC (7 page)

“Yeah, man. Scarecrow. She was gonna meet with him. He had the stuff for her.

“Oh shit.” I let go of Bobby, panicked. She met with the deadliest, most dangerous drug dealer in town the night before my daughter showed up at my doorstep. It didn’t sound good at all.”

“And you haven’t seen her since?”

“No, man.”

“Not even that night? Not even once? Please, think hard about it.”

“I’m thinking hard, man. And I’m telling you, I ain’t seen her since then.” He shrugged, falling forward a little at a time. I left him there, getting up, going to the front door. I thanked Metal Face again before I left, then turned back. “Listen, if you see Rae in here, can you call me?” I wrote down my cell number. He promised to give me a call.

I texted the guys to tell them I talked to Bobby and gave them the basic rundown. As soon as I mentioned The Scarecrow, all of them lost their shit the way I had. They knew, like I did, that he wasn’t somebody to fuck around with. What the hell was Rae doing with him, then? Especially when she was supposed to be clean.

Wasn’t there anybody else she could have gone to? I thought it over when I got on my bike. There had to be something deeper going on. Something else was missing, some piece of the puzzle. No way she went from being clean one day to walking on the wild side the next day. If she was in trouble with The Scarecrow, no way I could help her. He was into some deep shit, and the stories I heard about him made even my skin crawl.

I remembered what Bobby said about Gigi. Rae always made sure she wasn’t around when people were shooting up at the house. Why would Rae let people do that in front of her when she wasn’t using anymore? Was she dealing? Maybe she was a go-between for The Scarecrow? Even if she wasn’t using, she might have been making money from it. Fuck. And she had my daughter in that house with her?

I couldn’t jump to conclusions. She might have relapsed. Maybe she took a taste on Sunday and decided she needed more. I knew it was just that easy—I had seen my mother go through it enough times to know too well.

I went back to the clubhouse, wanting to talk things over with the guys and maybe ask Gigi a couple of questions if she was still awake. I imagined she had kicked the shit out of most of the club at poker by then. I grinned thinking about it. Maybe there was something to be said for genetics after all. She played cards just like her old man.

Jamie

I hated leaving Gigi alone for even a little while, but there was no way I could spend a weekend in the clubhouse without clothes and toiletries. I didn’t think Lance would be keen on me taking Gigi with me—he might have seen it as a ploy to kidnap her, or he might even have sent one of his goons with me to be sure nothing funny went on. I could just imagine one of the members of the MC riding up to my gated community on the back of a motorcycle, leather vest and everything. I might get kicked out.

So I went through the packing process as quickly as possible, taking clothes and a toothbrush, a bathrobe, a towel—not that I didn’t trust the girls to do laundry, but I felt better using my own than one that had been used by God only knew who in the club. I thought twice and took an extra towel for Gigi.

Then, I hurried back. I told myself there was no reason to hurry—they’d taken good care of her all week. I didn’t like to admit it, but it was true. She even looked happy, and they all adored her.

When I arrived, there was something big happening in the lounge. I looked around, scanning the room for Gigi. She was nowhere to be found. Erica stood at the edge of the crowd, laughing over whatever was happening in the center. I stood beside her, then went up on my toes to get a look over the shoulders of the men in front of me. I wasn’t wearing mile-high shoes the way Erica was.

I gasped when I saw Gigi sitting at the coffee table, playing what looked like poker with three of the club members. I opened my mouth to say something, but Erica stopped me before I got a chance.

“Just watch,” she murmured. “She’s won every hand.”

“What?” I had to admit, I was intrigued.

“She bluffs like nobody I’ve ever seen.” She giggled.

I turned my attention to the group around the table. Gigi sat alone on one side, the others on the other sides. She held her cards close to her chest so nobody could see them.

They were playing with pretzel sticks, and damned if she didn’t have a bigger pile than anybody else. They had to be underestimating her—I could’ve told them she was a genius. I had already considered having her tested for it, and was thinking about broaching the subject with Rae.

Gigi threw three sticks into the center of the table to ante up. The rest followed suit. It was her turn again. She peeked at her cards, then threw another three sticks into the pot. The rest of the room murmured. I bit back a laugh.

The man to her left tapped his cards on the table. “I’ll see your three and raise two,” he said. Another murmur.

Gigi looked unimpressed, only turning to the man across from her. He glanced from Gigi to the second player, and folded immediately to a chorus of laughter. Gigi’s eyes shifted to the man to her right.

“I’ll see that five,” he said, adding his sticks to the pot. He was the dealer, so he asked how many cards everybody needed.

Gigi took another peek. “I’m fine,” she said. Another round of murmurs, and some laughter. She was cool as anything, that kid.

The man to her left took two cards. The dealer took three.

It was Gigi’s turn again. “I’ll see your five, and raise you five.” My eyes flew open wide. She had guts. I heard Erica giggle.

The man to Gigi’s left tapped his cards to the table again. “Too rich for my blood,” he decided, folding.

Gigi looked unimpressed, swinging her eyes around to the only other remaining player. He studied her, eyes narrowed. I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh.

“Okay. I’ll see your ten.”

“Are you sure about that?” The room went quiet. Gigi glanced at her cards, still tight against her chest. She looked pointedly at the other player’s sticks, which were dwindling rapidly.

“I’m pretty sure, yeah.” He smiled at her.

“Okay. I don’t want you to lose all your sticks is all. Then you can’t play anymore.” She was so innocent, so wide-eyed. “It’s fun to play with you.”

He smiled again. “Your hand is that good, huh?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“Hmm. If I fold, I’ll still be able to play. If I don’t, I might lose.”

“That’s right.”

He squinted at her, trying to size her up. “I’ve seen you bluffing all night. How do I know you’re not bluffing right now?”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” She shrugged. The room was so quiet, I was sure I could’ve heard a pin drop. I held my breath, as I was pretty sure everybody else was. I watched the other player, and the way he stared at her. Her face was totally blank, except for a tiny little smile.

He nodded decisively, making up his mind. “I don’t believe you.” He put in ten sticks. “Call.”

Gigi spread her cards out before her. I craned my neck to see. Three tens, two fives. A full house.

“Damn it!” The other player laid down two pairs. The room went wild, everybody cheering Gigi, chanting her name. She beamed with delight, pulling the pot of pretzel sticks toward herself.

I wanted to be annoyed, but I couldn’t. It was too funny, watching her wipe the floor with these seasoned players. I did let her know I was watching, though, catching her eye from across the room. She waved.

“You wanna play, Jamie?”

“No, thanks.” Everybody laughed. “Besides, it’s getting late for you, isn’t it? Almost ten o’clock.”

Gigi frowned but got up from her seat. Everybody wished her a good night, and I took her upstairs to get her ready for bed.

“Who taught you to play cards?” I murmured as we climbed the stairs.

“One of mommy’s friends taught me a long time ago,” she said. “And I used to have a poker game, too. Like a battery game.” I remembered her bringing it in for show-and-tell once.

“But you didn’t tell them you knew?”

“Nah.” She looked up at me. “Was that wrong?”

“Not technically, no. That means you’re a card shark.”

“What’s that mean?”

“We’ll talk about it some other time.” I gave her a hug, laughing to myself over the way she made fools of a bunch of grown men.

***

It was only a few minutes after putting Gigi to bed that Lance came in. I was sitting at the bar, chatting with Erica and Traci. I let them in on Gigi’s secret and the three of us laughed until we cried.

“Where’s Gigi?” Lance looked nearly frantic.

I stood, as did the girls. “She’s in bed. Safe and sound.”

He grimaced, shaking his head. “I didn’t think she wasn’t safe. I need to talk to her, though.”

“I’m sure it can wait until morning, can’t it?”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, I’m sure it can. Christ.” He grabbed a beer bottle from the bar and stalked off into his office, slamming the door behind him. For some reason, that door slam infuriated me—maybe because I had just finished telling him his daughter was asleep. I followed him into the office, closing the door more softly.

“I didn’t ask you to come in.”

“Big deal. I’m here anyway. You need to learn how to be a little quieter when your daughter’s in bed,” I snapped.

“Oh, would you give it a fucking rest? I don’t need you nagging me to death. You’re not her mother.”

“And you only fertilized an egg one day. That’s it. You’re not her father.”

He glared at me. “Don’t tell me who I am. You don’t have the right.”

“Just like you don’t have the right to hold me hostage here just because I care about your daughter.”

“Hostage?” He laughed. “You’re not a hostage. You wanna leave? The door’s open, baby. Be my guest.” He sat behind his desk, feet up, drinking his beer. “I’ve got more important things on my mind than you right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like none of your business, that’s what.”

“Do you think it would be possible for you to be a little less mature? Because I don’t think so.”

He rolled his eyes again and sighed. “Would you let it go, please? Relax for five fucking minutes and I’ll tell you what’s up. Okay? If that gets you to leave me the hell alone.”

“Do you think it would be possible for you to watch your language? I appreciate you watching it when Gigi’s around, but I don’t feel like hearing it.”

“Like I said,” he grinned, “you can leave any time you want. I don’t wanna offend your delicate ears.”

I sat with a huff. “What is it you wanted to say?”

He took another long swig of his beer, making me wait. My blood pressure boiled steadily the longer he left me sitting there. “I talked to a friend of Rae’s,” he said. “A guy I used to know, too, so he trusted me. Total junkie. He told me Rae was on her way to meet up with a pretty scary dude on Sunday night. He’s called The Scarecrow.”

I shrugged. He said the name like he expected me to know who he meant, but I had no idea.

“He’s probably the most dangerous guy in town. I mean really, really bad shit.”

My face went slack, my shoulders drooped. “Oh no.”

“Yeah. Drugs, mostly. He’s probably killed a half dozen people personally, but maybe a lot more than that. There are rumors that he’s into human trafficking, too.”

I gasped, hand over my mouth. “Selling people?”

“Yeah.” Lance looked disgusted.

“And this is the sort of person Rae was meeting with?”

“That’s what Bobby told me.”

“He’s a junkie, though. That’s what you said. Can he be trusted?”

Lance pursed his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know for sure. He seemed like he really meant it. I mean, that’s a pretty notorious name in our world. You don’t go throwing it around unless you mean it.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense to me. I’ve met Rae lots of times. She always told me she was clean, how important it was to stay clean for Gigi.”

“That’s another thing.” Lance looked even more troubled than before.

“I feel like I don’t want to hear this.”

“I know you don’t wanna.” He looked at me. “Bobby said he went to Rae’s house to do drugs before. While Gigi was in the house—not watching, but in the house.”

I jumped to my feet. “No.”

“Yeah. That’s what he told me.” I noticed the knuckles of the hand holding the beer bottle were white.

“How could she do that?” I sounded like I was whining, but I didn’t care. Poor Gigi. I thought of Rae, so adamant that she was doing her best. Having her friends over to get high while her daughter slept upstairs. My skin crawled and I rubbed my hands over my arms to get rid of the goosebumps.

Lance shrugged. “She’s a junkie. I told you. Once a junkie…”

“Yeah. Right.” I thought back to Gigi telling me how she learned to play poker, and I wondered which one of them taught her. Was it this Scarecrow person? Or the junkie Lance talked to? Or one of who knew how many others? It boggled my mind. Poor Gigi.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“We?”

“You, me, we. I don’t know.”

“You’re here to keep an eye on the kid. Which you’ll do. Right?”