Reprise (33 page)

They were as careful as they could be, Jayce holding the kid under his arms and Tiny hefting the kid by both knees. Knuckles still moaned in his sleep, and they were now dripping blood.

Knuckles’ feet settled under the work light, his head opposite. Tiny took to tearing off the hoodie and T-shirt while Jayce got the doctor.

The kid was so cold. Tiny’s hands started shaking. Fuck, the kid
had
to make it. He had to.

Doc Fox appeared with his gear. Without a lot of editorializing he stitched Knuckles up, then Spaz was there with both sleeves of his thermal rolled up.

“I’ve never done person-to-person before,” Fox muttered, swabbing up the crook of Knuckles’ arm. “He’s got some serious scar tissue here.”

Tiny and Jayce share a look. Knuckles’ history with heroin was known, but not talked about. It wasn’t theirs to share, now or ever.

“This can be done person-to-person, right?” Jayce asked.

“Army doctors have been doing it in field hospitals for ages,” Fox added with a wry grin. “However, this is my first try.”

“I’ve got to find Mal,” Tiny told Jayce. As worried as he was about his brother, he needed to have that talk. Knuckles was right.

“She’s in the clubhouse, she’s okay,” Jayce said with a clap on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting our boy.”

“Of course.”

His woman stood out in any crowd, and not just because of that gleaming red hair. She was smiling at something Rose had just said, no doubt baby talk of some kind. He stalked right to her, and when she noticed him her smile widened so much so that he had to return it.

“Cops!” Fritter shouted, flying through the front doors and promptly locking the door behind him.

“Now?” Tiny growled.

“Where’s Spaz?” Fritter went on. “No fucking warning?”

“He’s giving Knuckles blood in the back.” They both turned to Jayce as he appeared at the entrance from the kitchen. He held up a plastic bag. Tiny recognized the bag, knowing it was the towels Knuckles was worried about. “These are from a crime scene and the knife is in here, too.”

“Shit. I didn’t know the knife was in there.” He couldn’t blame Knuckles for forgetting to mention that.

“They won’t have a warrant to search,” Fritter said with great certainty. “They likely just want to question Tiny. They won’t have enough for charges.”

“I’ll go,” he promised immediately, stomach sinking. A couple more days. That was all he’d been hoping for. Just a couple more days.
Fuck
.

“I’ll call Clark,” Jayce muttered, heading to the board room.

Tiny had already squared his shit with Clark that morning. He’d listened to Clark’s legal coaching then he’d had his own concerns to flesh out. If Clark thought it was strange he kept that to himself.

It was going to happen at some point. Not everyone got to choose when and how.

He still went for Mal, grabbing her with both arms and hugging her hard enough to almost bruise ribs.

“Are you okay?” she asked. He could hear uncertainty in that voice.

It was surprising to him that he was more angry than scared. He was nearly shaking he was so fucking pissed off.

“Are you okay?” she repeated, pulling back to gaze up at him. He was freaking her out.

“I love you,” he whispered, throat suddenly on fire.

Her face registered her surprise.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“Tiny—”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t braver for you.”

“What’s going on?”

“I love you,” he repeated, swooping her up in his arms to kiss her.

She hesitated but eventually returned the kiss. Fuck, that made him feel better. Just a little.

“No matter what happens,” he gasped, chest burning. “No matter what you hear. I have always loved you, Mal.”

Her lip quivered. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.” Fuck, this really fucking stung.

He had to go. Letting his hands open and release her took every ounce of strength he had.

“Tiny.” She tried to grab for him but he caught her hands and held them away.

“I gotta go. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too. Harlon, what’s going on?”

He had to turn away.

“I’m going in with you,” Fritter informed him, stepping into his path.

“Me, too,” Tank offered.

Tiny shook his head and pushed between them. “No, you’re not.” He headed for the bar, where his kutte was waiting. He needed to be wearing that.

“I’ll clock a cop. I don’t give a shit,” Fritter went on.

“We got your back,” Tank added.

“Listen. Fuck you,” he said, pointing at Fritter. Then Tank. “And fuck you in particular.

“What?” Fritter spat back.

“Take care of your woman and that kid,” he instructed Fritter. Then he poked Tank in the chest. “And
your
woman is cooking your kid. Don’t even think about doing anything so stupid.”

“Tiny—”

“Forget it,” he cut the kid off with a wave of his hand. “Do
not
follow me in.” He swallowed hard. “This is me, guys. I’m the fucking old man in the group.”

“Tiny.” Tank’s voice was as soft as he’d ever heard it. “We’ll get you out.”

He actually felt relieved that Tank was thinking straight.

“Harlon!”

He closed his eyes as Mal’s hand found his arm. She was behind him, circling to his right side. “Tell me what’s going on. Why are the cops here? Why is everyone freaking out?”

It was likely a chicken shit move, but he didn’t look at her. He shook her off, unlocked the main doors, and stepped out of the clubhouse.

The sun was down, but the sky was still bright. Two sheriff’s department cruisers were parked outside, four men in uniform were gathered in a cluster in front of one of them.

“Can I help you?” he bellowed, catching them off guard.

“Harlon Gray,” Deputy Troy greeted him. This guy was a complication. He was the real deal; an actual good cop, and on the surface incorruptible.

“Deputy Troy,” he returned. “What’s up?”

“We have a few questions to ask you.”

“About what?” He realized he had no idea if the Doc’s murder was common knowledge yet.

“Doctor Tracey Webber was found dead this morning. It’s a homicide. One of her neighbors saw you leaving her house a couple mornings ago. It would appear you’re the last one that saw her alive.”

“Is this an arrest?”

Tiny turned at the voice to find Jayce at his right elbow.

“Just a questioning,” Troy assured them. “Pretty standard. Do you deny being there?”

Harlon shook his head. “No. I was there. We fucked.”

Troy’s eyes got big. “Oh.”

“But that’s it. She was breathing when I left.”

“You don’t seem surprised,” an officer to the left of Troy drawled. Tiny had never seen this guy before, which was strange. His uniform looked a bit brighter and crisper than the rest. A rookie. The club knew that Turnbull was going to make personnel changes. This must be one of them.

“It’s a small town, officer,” Tiny pointed out. “Word gets around. I was expecting you.”

“Yet you didn’t come forward?” Troy said quickly.

“Nothing to come forward with,” he retorted. “That was two days ago. Like I said, she was breathing when I left. Never saw her after that.”

He didn’t want to sound callous. He was still so fucking pissed off, and that’s how everything was coming out.

“If you come in with us I’ll have to frisk you,” Troy said in that all-business cop tone.

Tiny raised his arms up and Troy stepped forward. Tiny turned to the building, hands flat on the painted cinderblock.

“Clark will meet you at the station,” Jayce promised, low enough that only Tiny and Troy could hear.

Tiny nodded as the Deputy did the pat down. Of course he had nothing on him.

No cuffs. Troy held an arm out and Tiny took the invite to approach the waiting squad cars. The rookie that had spoken before held the door open.

“I got a bad feeling about this.”

Tiny stopped, surprised to hear that coming from the Deputy. “What?”

“Turnbull wants you in jail bad.  Make sure your lawyer takes this seriously.”

Tiny searched Troy’s face. It killed the guy to say this, it was obvious. But even Troy had misgivings about all of this.

Shit. What if someone was in
Turnbull’s
ear? That could fuck the club even worse.

“You mean that?” he asked, low.

Troy’s eyes darted to the others, then Jayce, who was sticking close to the building. “Yesterday his hard-on for the club got worse. Then this call comes in and there’s a legitimate witness putting you in the vic’s company a day before she died.”

“Who’s the witness?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“We’re not threat to anyone, Deputy. We aren’t about to start hurting innocents.”

Troy sighed, rubbing his brow. “Shit.”

“I give you my word.”

“Lady across the street.”

Tiny nearly laughed. “Beth?”

Troy didn’t say anything; the shock on his face was confirmation enough.

“I’ve been fucking her, too.”

“Jesus,” Troy muttered.

“So, Turnbull got something up his ass before the body was even found.”

“Yeah.”

“Are we going or what?” They both turned to the cars and to the mouthy officer. Another had already climbed behind the wheel, waiting and watching them.

“I’m right behind you,” Troy muttered, adding to his apprehension.

Tiny had to smile. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Troy’s head snapped to the right from the jab Tiny gave him, right in the snout.  Rings made for a little extra damage, breaking the skin. Then he was off and running.

Keychain was in his pocket and then the bike key was in his hand before he reached his Bobber.

The little twerp had grabbed his arm before he could swing his leg over. Tiny yanked his lid from the handlebars and smashed the fucker right in the face. Then he hurled the helmet at the windshield of the nearest cruiser where the driver was waiting. The windshield spider-webbed.

“Tiny!” Jayce was shouting.

His adrenalin was at a whole new high. Fuck the Sheriff. If he thought he could pen a Red Rebel for someone to come along and slaughter, he was dumber than everyone thought.

A big messy complication could only get Turnbull in shit with—Tiny could only assume—Guidinger or his ilk, or as an elected law enforcement official.

He tore out of the lot with one cruiser tight on him, lights and sirens going full force. Evading was a lot easier when he just didn’t give a shit anymore.

Suddenly he felt light as air. His decision was so much easier all of a sudden.  There would be no jail. Just this ride.

A van nearly creamed him as he ran a red light. The cruiser had to ease up to get through that intersection safely and he laughed. A few more close calls and he was free of all the urban obstacles, just him and the open highway.

The remnants of the sun were just a golden band along the horizon. It was beautiful, with pink above fading into a blue that was gradually darkening.  The air on his face and in his hair was cool. His hands were already burning from the chill.

In the side mirrors he could spot three cruisers now, counting the strips of flashing lights. Behind them, he could see three bikes. Four. Five.

He had to smile. He loved those guys. He’d do anything for those bastards. That brotherhood was absolutely everything.

When he saw a side road where the lanes widened he pulled off in a spray of gravel and dust. He was swinging a leg over the bike to dismount as tires squealed all around him.

“Stop where you are!”

“Hands up!”

“Hands where we can see them, asshole!”

Tiny raised both hands over his head. For once, he could take a deep breath and not suffer from a coughing fit.

It was definitely a winter night. The air felt good. Almost as brisk as home, but not quite.

He spared a moment to think of his mom. She didn’t  know him, not really. Every day she was reborn, emotion and memory unbruised from past hurts. His old man, in so much pain he went out to the woods and ate a bullet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hearing the wobble in his voice just as the wind caught a stiffer chill. Or maybe it was the tears running down his face.

One more deep breath. Then, with sudden movements, he dropped an arm and reached for his lower back.

He almost smiled at the sound of gunfire.

“No!” one voice shouted.

He pitched forward, catching himself on the asphalt with both hands.