Renegade: Desert Knights MC (10 page)

I continue to kiss her, making my way around the bruises of her neck to behind her ear. “Then come with me,” I whisper. “Even if it’s only just for tonight. I’ll get you back home before they know you’re gone.” I feel like a goddamn kid again, like a teenager trying to sneak in a quick bang before I hear the door open to signal Mom and Dad are home.

But with Tory, it’s different. I want her to come with me not so that we can continue with what is happening in her own bedroom, but so that she feels safe and wanted. I want to make her feel what I am feeling when I’m with her, no matter how murky and unclear that was for me.

She pauses, the air stopping in her throat. A hand presses against me and pushes me away as she says firmly, “No. I can’t. I can’t do this. Anton, this is not going to happen, and I can’t let it happen. There’s too much at stake.”

I wonder if she means my life. The way she peers at me makes me think that she’s more concerned with me getting out of this alive than anything else, but she slowly says, “He’s going to kill us if he catches me, and I can’t let that happen. Please, just go.”

“But you want this.”

“But I can’t have it.” She looks up at me with pleading, terrified eyes. “Please, just make this easier on me and go. I can’t do this anymore.”

In what feels like someone fast-forwarding my life, I walk backwards towards the window and out into the tree. My hands scrape against the bark as I don’t look back. My feet hit the ground, and I give myself just three seconds to look back up at her as she closes and locks her window. In those three seconds, I watch as she hesitates before closing a pair of pink blinds on me for good.

My room goes black as I shuffle softly back into bed. Outside, I listen to Anton scurry down the tree, the branches scratching up against my window. And it takes everything in my power to just lie here in bed, listening to my chance at freedom walk right out of my life.

I pull my hands up to around my chest. The feeling of his calloused fingertips on my bare skin is still leaving heat impressions on me. I follow the line of fire from my shoulders to the tips of my breasts before forcing my hands to the side. As much as I wanted him to continue, to give me back what was missing from earlier in the evening, it just couldn’t go past this invisible line I drew up.

I curl myself up back into a ball with my knees pressed firm against my chest. My head tucks in and pulls itself under the blankets so that the small glimmer of light that is seeping in through my bedroom disappears along with the sound of the man outside of the window. My mind floats off as the hours pass and I pray for the sunrise. 

In that time, I dream wistfully about life with Anton on the run. I can see us as a caricature of my parents on our way to Reno in hopes of not being found. Or maybe we want to be found so that we can declare ourselves. I don’t know. But it doesn’t work out the way my parents’ lives have. There’s no grandfather relenting and giving a place to Anton. My brother has made it clear that it would never happen. Anton would never be my family as much as those who are my own blood are. The future I could dream up is just not a reality.

As I toss and turn and push away the thoughts of white fences, open roads, and Anton and I lying in a big brass bed together, the house around me starts to stir. It begins with my mom. She’s always an early riser. Her footsteps are heavier today as I listen to her quickly turn off her alarm and then shuffle towards the master bathroom. A few minutes later, she returns to the bedroom where my father is waiting for her.

Usually, he barks an order about breakfast or murmurs where he is going to be that day, but this morning is different. Something has shifted in the room adjacent to mine. His voice is sterner, more focused on her. And she sounds less tired and run down than usual. Her words are pierced and firm.

I pull myself up to sitting, my ear to the cold spackled wall as I catch the end of their conversation. “Don’t make me angry, Maureen. My word is God, and you don’t question God.”

“I’m not questioning you, Clay. I am saying that your daughter is an adult. She’s almost done with school, and it’s her right to do what she wants with whomever she wants. We can’t treat her like a teenager anymore. She’ll only get more hurt when she does get herself free.”

There’s a pause before I hear my dad’s voice growl even louder. He must have charged at her as she was dressing near her mirror. “What did I say about this? I make the decisions for this family. I know what is best! And Tory is not going off with some Knight just because he flirted with her! You hear me? I won’t fucking have it! And I won’t have you standing up for him either!”

My mother doesn’t back down. Her voice grows stronger “What the fuck do you expect her to do?” she demands. “Grow old, stay unmarried, have her brother take care of her? You know that is not what’s going to happen. When we’re gone, there will be no one for her, and I don’t want her to be left in the cold to be passed around like one of your whores.”

“Don’t you talk to me like that, Maureen! You’ve got no say in this!”

“That’s what I don’t understand. Why don’t I get a say in my daughter’s life? What big plans do you have for her?”

“Brandon and I have it settled. She’s going to graduate from that vet school, and then she’s going to be paired up with Haunch. When Brandon takes over, he’ll be second in command so she will still be protected.”

There’s a long, deafening pause as the blood in my ears pounds and my mouth goes dry. My mother breaks the ice, her voice so low that I have to press my entire body to the wall to hear her. “Clay Abraham Walsh, you will not marry off our daughter like some prized cattle. I won’t have it. I won’t. This isn’t the fucking Middle Ages. She’s not some currency being bartered for twelve cattle and a tract of land. Not. Fucking. Happening.” The last three words thump out of her mouth, every syllable dripping with contempt.

But he’s not having any of it. “It’s done, Maureen,” he snaps. “Brandon’s grooming Haunch, and I’m working on Brandon. When we retire, the club is set, and Tory’s life is decided.” I can’t believe it, but my dad actually sounds proud of himself, as if he has done this great and wonderful deed on my behalf. Even with my mom’s resistance, I can tell from how his voice drips with self-righteousness that he won’t be persuaded.

“Why won’t you think of us then? The only reason why you sit on your throne so high and mighty is because my father had mercy on you. When we were in Reno, he could have had you killed with a wave of his hand, but he didn’t. I had to beg for your life, and he gave it to you.”

“You didn’t have a brother, Maureen, and he knew you were knocked up. Things are different with Tory. She has Brandon, who deserves his head spot. If we want to keep the Walsh name alive, Brandon has got to take over.”

“Then what’s wrong with letting her pick out who she wants to be with?”

He sounds exasperated, as if this should be so obvious. “If she sticks with that road junkie, Anton, how long do you think he’s going to be satisfied with her? She’s his path to our spot, and as soon as he overthrows Brandon and me, he’ll drop her.”

“You don’t know that. You saw how he looked at her at the table yesterday. He’s not there to take your precious presidency. He was there for Tory. Any smarter man wouldn’t have taken two steps into our home if he was planning some grand coup like the one you cooked up in your paranoid mind. And you know that.”

“It’s over, Maureen. Anton Murdoch ain’t getting within spitting distance of her ever again. And if he does, he’ll be in a body bag out in the Pacific. I’ll even be the one doing the tossing.”

Their words become more muffled as I hear their door click open. I sink back down into my bed and roll over towards the window, waiting for what comes next. There’s the sound of the twisting doorknob followed by my mom, who walks even slower today. She sits down at the edge of my bed, pausing to look off in the distance. I feel her cold, thin hands on my shoulders as she lightly pushes me from side to side. Her voice hoarsely saying, “It’s time to get up, Tor. You’ve got class in an hour. Breakfast will be waiting for you.”

As she leaves and heads back down towards the kitchen, my eyes flicker open once again and I stare off towards the window. Just hours ago, that window was my path to my own freedom. And now, all I can see is a way to avoid the months or even years to come of being stuck with a man I didn’t know, having babies I didn’t want, and living a life very similar to my mother’s.

I run out of bed, shutting the door my mother had left open before grabbing a pair of jeans from a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. I grab my backpack, tossing the textbooks out one by one. I shove them under my bed, being sure to hide them out of sight with a pink sheet from my bed. I fill the rest of the empty backpack with clothes, chargers, my toothbrush and paste, and my laptop…anything I think I’ll need while I’m on the road. I don’t have time to double check. I just toss the heavy pack over my shoulders, my back slouching from the weight, and shut the bedroom door behind me.

As I pass my parents’ bedroom, I spot something…my dad’s wallet. I peek my head into their dark-colored room, listening as my dad showers in the other room. I just have a minute, but it’s enough time to run in and grab the wallet off of the dresser. Inside is a large stack of hundred bills wrapped together in purple rubber band. I hesitate taking it all, and I instead settle on half of them, hoping it won’t be an easy giveaway. I stuff them in the inside flap of my backpack without even counting. I just need enough to get me to safety.

Down in the kitchen, my mom is all stiff, broken smiles as she hands me a plate of pancakes she’s managed to whip up. She doesn’t even notice my panicked expression as she mindlessly asks, “What’s on your schedule today? How long will you be at school?”

I take the plate from her, placing it back on the table. I allow myself a large drink of orange juice before anxiously replying, “I’ve got lab and rounds over at the animal hospital. I’ll be gone all day. I probably won’t be back until after you’ve gone to bed. Don’t wait up for me, okay?”

“Tor—” she begins as if she can see that I am lying through my teeth.

“I know, I know. I’ll send you a text when I’m finishing up.” I place the backpack over my shoulders again and walk quickly towards the door. My mom follows behind me as if she has something she wants to say. I instead keep talking, making it impossible for her to question me, “Listen, I can’t help it that this is what I have to do to get my degree. It’s part of the job. Don’t worry about me. I’ll grab lunch at school, and we’re ordering pizza tonight. I’ll be fine.”

I kiss her on the cheek and pull open the door. Above me, black rain clouds are beginning to gather. I pull up the hood on my jacket and run in a sprint towards my beat up Chevy parked to the side of the driveway. While it’s mine to use, my dad had forbid me driving it to any place but school and the occasional errand he sent me on for the club. Today, it was my getaway car.

“Tory! Wait!” My mother cries out before I can pull on the handle. She runs back inside and reappears seconds later. Despite being still dressed in pajamas and her robe, she heads outside towards me, her hand outstretched. “The keys. You’re going to need them.”

She places the one car key in my hand, closing my palm around it. We both linger there, looking down at my ticket to freedom as if we are both on the same page. The sound of my father walking towards the door brings us back. Her eyes remain on the key as she whispers, “Tory, please be safe, okay?”

“I will, Mom. I will.”

I should have left it alone. I should have pushed her away. I should have stayed away.

Should have. Could have. Would have.

Fuck it.

The morning after being rejected by Tory Walsh seems to drag on forever. I don’t initially go home after climbing down from her tree. Instead, I walk around her back yard, I drive past the elementary school she most likely went to, and I circle around her home. I just can’t force myself to give it up just yet.

The hours pass and my phone’s daily alarm finally dings that it’s time to get up. I’ve been essentially following Tory for nearly ten hours now, and now it’s time to go back to my own life. Still, I’m miles away from my apartment complex with little time to shower, dress, and get ready for the day. The only option I have is to huff it back to the headquarters and get the day of work started.

When I arrive, I’m startled to see that I am not the only motorcycle in the back lot. Normally, there’s not a soul here before nine in the morning. The graveyard night shift ends at seven, which means that the headquarters is abandoned for a few hours before the next runners clock in. And while I usually head out in the afternoons, I know that MC men aren’t typically the guys to arrive early for anything.

Still, I recognize two of the motorcycles in the pack of five. One belongs to my man Leo, who most likely arrived early to start his shift as the new club accountant in one of the few upstairs offices. The other bike surprised me, given that it belonged to Clay Walsh himself. The club president rarely ever went to the headquarters these days…unless it was for official business. Most of his work was done separately for his own protection, or at least that’s what he told us. 

As I pull my bike around to the front, I hesitate. I may be walking into another trap given Tory’s warnings about her own life being threatened and yesterday’s beat down by Brandon. But with the boss’s son is nowhere in sight, I wasn’t sure if I was just being a paranoid mess over this.

I walk into the building slowly, taking my time to shut the large metal door so that the bells don’t chime or the alarm doesn’t sound. As I walk, my feet raise like a ballerina’s floating across the stage. While I’m not afraid to walk in my own domain, I certainly don’t want to give myself away, especially to Walsh.

I head directly upstairs towards the offices. At the foot of the stairs, a few voices make me pause in my place. “You understand what I’m telling you to do, son?”

Leo wavers as he answers, “I do. I just don’t know if I’m okay with it exactly. I mean, what you’re asking me to do is a pretty big deal, and I’m just not comfortable being the one to do it.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything, boy. I’m telling you. This is your job now. You’re taking over for someone who did it before you. And when you’re gone, either by my hand or God’s, someone else will take over as well. You’re replaceable, and don’t forget that. Ever.”

“I get you, sir. Is there anything else I should know, or am I okay to get started?”

Knowing Walsh will be heading back my way towards the stairs at any second, I make a beeline straight for one of the other empty offices, pushing past an unlocked door and hiding myself deep in a closet space. Walsh passes me by seconds later, followed by several of the enforcers I always see guarding him when he’s out on business. I hold my breath as I listen to the sound of their footsteps tread heavy on the stairs and down through the doors.  

When they’re gone, I spring out of my hiding spot and back out to the accountant’s office where Leo is sitting with his head slumped in his hands in front of the keyboard. He doesn’t even register my presence until I give a little cough. He stammers back to life, practically falling out of the small rolling desk chair.

“These your new fancy digs now you’ve gone corporate?” I walk around the room slowly, unsure of how I am going to ask my burning questions. Picking up a few knickknacks from the last accountant, I examine an old snow globe almost dried up from sitting in the sun. “Don’t look like they really give you much up here. I’d rather go road crazy than be stuck in a dump like this.”

“Don’t remind me, Anton. I’d kill to be back out on the road instead of doing the Walshes’ bidding.”

“Yeah? I mean, it can’t be too bad. You’re just doing club stuff right. You’re just signing checks and going through the books. That sounds like a pretty plushy job to have landed into. Plus, don’t the guys always love the man with the money?”

The accountants in the Desert Knights have always been revered. While no one wants to go ‘corporate,’ the man who gets trusted with the money was someone everyone had to respect. Leo taking on this job was kind of perfect for me to get an insider view. And now that I overheard Walsh egging on Leo to do something he wasn’t kosher with, I had even more reason to pry.

Leo types into an old desktop computer as he mutters, “We’ll see how long I last. I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t live to see many Fridays.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” I ask as I pull up a swivel chair next to him, planting myself feet from his desk.

“I mean that the Desert Knights ain’t all that they seem, and now that I’ve got the key to the vault, I’d rather turn it in than do their dirty deeds.” As soon as he finishes, a look of complete terror washes over his pale face. A small bead of sweat forms at the top of his forehead, and his eyes begin blinking rapidly. Having worked with druggies and dealers almost every day of my life, I can tell that Leo knows he said too much.

I reply passionately, “Leo, if there’s something going down with the Knights, you know you can tell me. I’m no friend of the Walshes, and if they are hurting my brothers, I want to know about it. You know you can trust me.”

“I trust you, Anton. I do. I’d ride into that sunset with you. But I also know the Walshes, and they don’t make idle threats. They are serious, man. This whole operation they got going on is some goddamn serious shit. And I’m not about to be the one dumb fuck that cracks this wide open and starts the war that’s brewing.”

“The war?” I ask, hanging on to his every word for clues I know he must be throwing out.

“Yeah, the war. The one that’s been itching to start, and our ride last week to the Senators’ stash isn’t going to help anyone but the Walsh family.”

“I don’t understand,” I say honestly, in hopes he’ll slow down and clue me in. What did the Black Senators, the Desert Knight Motorcycle Club’s mortal enemy, have to do with the Walshes. I’m done playing games now. I walk back over to the office door and close it tightly, locking it first and then planting my chair underneath the handle. Neither one of us is getting out, and no one is getting in, until the truth comes out to me.

I reach in my back pocket and pull out a gun, slamming it down on the desk before Leo. He stammers backwards seeing it come suddenly flying out on display. I know he’s unarmed. He was never one to carry heat with him when he wasn’t on the road, and I doubt he would take a loaded gun to the office. And by the way he cowers in his own chair, I know I’m right.

“Listen,” I say carefully, “I don’t want to do this, Leo. You’re my boy, my best friend. But Clay Walsh and that fucking piece of shit son of his are destroying the Knights. And you know it. Something’s going down with that family, and I am determined to find out.”

“Why?” Leo asks nervously, his eyes fixed to the gun still placed near me on the desk. “Why do you care so much? I mean, I know you’re pissed about not getting the top road captain job, but this ain’t like you. You fell in line and didn’t ask questions. What happened?”

The words fly out my mouth before I can even stop myself, “A girl. A Walsh girl. I met her at that party, and we’ve been having this back and forth thing ever since. Last night, she told me that he was going to kill her over us being together, and that just doesn’t sound right. So I need to know just why the Walsh boys are guarding her so tight, and what they are so afraid of. And you seem to have answers.”

Leo scratches his head, as a slow smile appears across his face. “So this is about some pussy,” he says, clearly delighted.

“No!” I yell offended, “This isn’t about ‘some pussy.’ This is about protecting this club and that girl from whatever the fuck they are doing. Now I overheard that bastard talk to you about forcing you to do something. What is he making you do? You tell me, and I can protect you. You don’t tell me, and I’ll have to pry it out of you.” My hand shoots over to the gun. Without picking it up, my fingers trace around the trigger and handle teasingly.

Leo lifts his hands up in defense as he whispers, “Fine. Fine. Just sit down, man. I’ll tell you, but you gotta sit down and put that damn thing away.”

I grab the chair out from under the door and slide it back to where I previously sat. He begins to type on the yellowed computer keyboard as the screen changes. A password prompt comes across the screen, and he quickly types in the entry. It flashes away, revealing a calendar along with a few spreadsheets full of numbers in shades of red, blue, green, and black.

Leo points his finger at the screen, as he says, “You see this entry on the calendar?” I peer at it, noting that it’s a schedule for some of the runners I’ve worked with. “This is Brandon’s work schedule for the runners. The boys in green here like you have the regular times and shifts. But there are some in red here for guys I’ve never heard of. There’s Slash, Tomas, Alex, and Benji, and they’re linked to a route I’ve never seen. It goes all the way down to Grand Canal.”

“Grand Canal? That’s the Senators’ territory. That’s where they get their drugs. What the hell are they trying to do?”

“Okay. Remember that.” Leo flashes the screen over to another calendar. “And here’s Clay Walsh’s schedule. See this meeting also highlighted in red? It’s in Grand Canal and it’s with a guy with the initials J.L. Does that mean anything to you?”

“J.L.?” The initials scan through my memory bank, looking for answers until only one comes up. “Joey Lenare?”

“Bingo. Joey Lenare, the second in command at the Senators. He’s in charge of the drug export down in Grand Canal. No stash gets through the Canal without Lenare’s approval.”

“So why in the hell would Clay be scheduled to meet with him?”

“That’s where the money comes in.” He pulls up a spreadsheet full of numbers. His mouse highlights a long row of empty columns. And as the columns go from white to a blue highlight, numbers appear where there were no numbers before. “You see these? These are amounts deposited in an account named J.L. The old accountant would get a stash in from those runners we never heard of every Tuesday after they did a run to the Grand Canal. The money would be put into the J.L. account. It must be over half a million dollars in the last year alone.”

“But where does that money go?” I ask totally baffled by what was being put out to me.

“It’s split between two paychecks: Brandon and Clay. Only that cash we brought in last week from our Senator theft went anywhere else but to them. It went back to Joey Lenare. Walsh told me today it was like a pull over. The Senators’ president thinks we made a hit on him, and Joey stays out of the line of fire so that Joey and Clay can continue to do business together without anyone, including us Knights, being any wiser or richer.”

I’m totally speechless. The only words I can muster come after a long, panicked pause where I stammer, “Those fucking double crossing bastards…” Stealing from the club was a massive offense. In my lifetime, I’ve been witness to three trials of men who didn’t give back their haul money to the club. One man was never heard from again. The other two lost fingers along with their club status. An eye for an eye was our motto.

But for upper management to be doing it was a whole other sin entirely. Money in the club is always split up—mostly by position and title. Sure, the big man at the top always brings in bigger dough, but the rest trickles down like any other business. Getting gypped out of half a million was a slap in the face and one I was not about to ignore.

My breathing takes up, as I try to piece everything together. Leo watches me, completely helpless. “I just found out today, man. I wouldn’t have even noticed it if that dumb asshole hadn’t straight out explained it to me.” He waits for my reply before asking, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take Clay and Brandon Walsh down if it’s the last thing I’m going to do.”