Solo (11 page)

Switch nodded. “Is this a situation we need to bring up in church?”

Solo knew what Switch was asking. He also knew it was Rowdy who had opened the door to the possibility, and for that he’d always be grateful. “Yeah, maybe. I think he’s earned a place as a friend of the club, but I’d like to talk to him about it first.”
Fuck.
He put his hands on his hips and stared up at the afternoon sun. “If he makes it. We left him there at Stevie’s, bleeding.”

“He told us to go,” Rowdy reminded Solo.

“Yeah. Doesn’t make it right.” Solo walked around the car and held out his hand. “Keys.”

“You can’t go to the hospital,” Rowdy said.

“I’m pissed off, not stupid.” Solo eyed his best friend. “I’d like to go home and wash the fuckin’ blood off me, okay?”

Rowdy looked to Switch.

“Give him the keys,” Switch said. “Get cleaned up then get your ass back here. We need to talk.”

Although Solo had no idea what he might be coming back to, he nodded. Running away from the club wasn’t an option, but after the day’s events, neither was running away from Blue. “Give me two hours.”

* * * *

Rowdy was waiting beside the door to the club when Solo climbed out of his car. “Feel better?” Rowdy asked.

“Not a goddamn bit.” Solo dragged his hands through his wet hair. “Who’s here?”

“All patched members that are in town.” Rowdy bumped his fist against the top of Solo’s shoulder. “You sure this is what you want?”

Solo thought of the ache that still clung to his chest after seeing Blue get shot. “I don’t have a choice. I love him.”

“Okay then. Let’s do it. I’ve got your back.” Rowdy opened the door.

Solo stared at his best friend. “Don’t know why you put up with me, but thanks.”

When Rowdy said nothing in reply, Solo walked into the clubhouse. The room was empty except the prospect tending the bar. “Church?” he asked Rowdy.

“Yeah. We’ll have to vote.”

Knowing a roomful of his brothers would vote on whether or not he could live and hold onto his colors hurt, but he wouldn’t back out.

Rowdy leaned over and whispered in Solo’s ear. “If it helps, I overheard a few of the guys say they’d always suspected you were gay or at least bi.”

“It doesn’t,” Solo replied. He hated the fact that his brothers had been questioning his sexuality behind his back instead of just asking him. He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms against his leg before opening the door to the meeting room. Most of his brothers were seated around the table and against the walls.

“Have a seat,” Switch ordered.

Solo strode to the table and stood in front of the chair he usually sat in. Sitting was the last thing he wanted to do if he was going to be jumped. Better to be on his feet. “With permission, I’d like to say something first.”

Switch scratched his jaw but eventually nodded.

Solo braced his hands on the long, scarred wooden table and addressed his brothers. “Some of you know why you’re here, but I can tell by the friendly faces that greeted me when I came into the room, that not all of you know what I’ve done.” He watched as the expressions on some of his brothers turned questioning. “A while back, I decided I liked dick over pussy.”

He waited for the statement to sink in before continuing. “I know that’s enough right there to lose your trust, and if it’ll make things better, I’ll be out in the parking lot following the meeting. Bring your pissed off attitudes and your fists and we’ll settle it one way or another.”

Grumbles between men filled the air as each brother turned to the man beside him to discuss the announcement.

Solo waited, and sure enough, Switch banged his gavel against the table, calling for quiet.

“Have a seat,” Switch ordered again.

With no other choice, Solo sank into his chair and waited for the Prez to direct the meeting.

“I don’t give a shit what you like to fuck as long as you stay away from my dog and my wife,” Switch said. “However, in your case, things might’ve been easier if you’d tried to hump my dog.”

Several brothers chuckled, but Switch quieted them with a stare.

Switch turned his attention back to Solo. “You’ve been seeing a cop,” he stated for the room to hear.

“Yes.” Solo refused to apologize for falling in love with Blue. “A cop who worked with me to find the sonofabitch who was selling drugs to kids.”

“A cop who was shot today saving my ass and Solo’s,” Rowdy added. “The same cop who told us to leave the scene before other cops surrounded the place. A cop who has put his own job on the line to protect us.”

“A fucking cop!”

“You’re a fucking traitor!”

Solo ignored the shouts from some of his brothers and glanced at his friend. It was one thing for Rowdy to stick up for him to Switch, but to do it in front of the entire club was huge.

“Since we’ve been working together, I’ve discovered there’s more to the cop than the badge. I’m not saying I’ve changed my attitude towards the police, but this one’s different. This one sees us for who we are and not just the colors we wear on our backs.” By the time Rowdy finished speaking his hands were fisted on the top of the table.

“He’s still a cop!” Roach argued.

“Yeah, he is,” Solo acknowledged. “He’s also the one who helped us prove that you didn’t have anything to do with poisoning that kid after fuckin’ Stevie Boy tried to point us in your direction.” He studied the room, making eye contact with each of his brothers. “I’ve risked my life for a lot of you in this room, and I will continue to have your backs, but I will not give up this man. Kill me, throw me out or accept that I would die for each and every one of you no matter who I love.”

* * * *

Eric opened his eyes to find Mr. Lee sitting beside his hospital bed. “Hey, Mr. Lee.”

Mr. Lee set his newspaper aside. “How many times have I told you to call me Martin?”

“Can’t do it,” Eric confessed. “And I believe I’ve told you that on several occasions.” The one lesson Eric learned from Mr. Lee was respect, and no matter what the older man said, Eric would always show him the respect he deserved.

“The doctor was in a while ago. Said you’d be getting out tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Eric placed his palm on the bandage. “It was a pretty clean shot. Nicked my liver, and I lost some blood, but nothing life threatening.”

“You were lucky,” Mr. Lee said.

Eric didn’t feel lucky. When he’d opened his eyes after getting out of surgery, Captain Wallace had been at his bedside, waiting to take his statement. He knew he couldn’t get away with a complete lie, after all, he had to have had a reason to kick Stevie’s door down, but he couldn’t tell the truth either. The whole thing had been a cluster fuck of epic proportions.

“Something you want to tell me?” Martin asked.

Eric stared at the only father figure in his life. Mr. Lee was a retired police officer, which severely limited the amount of information Eric could share. “Better not,” he mumbled.

Martin glanced down at his loud paisley print shirt. “I don’t see a badge, do you?”

Eric grinned. “I told Captain Wallace that I didn’t know the men Stevie held at gunpoint, but I did.”

Martin’s dark eyebrows drew together. “How do you know ‘em?”

“They didn’t do anything wrong,” Eric felt the need to explain. “They were at Stevie’s house for the same reason I was. All they want is to keep drugs away from the schools, but I know they won’t be treated fairly by the cops because of who they are.”

“So who are they?”

“Grave Diggers,” Eric confessed. He sighed heavily, wincing when the action pulled at his stitches. “I’m in love with one of them.”

Martin whistled. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Eric agreed. “The thing that gets me is knowing they’ll be treated unfairly while another player in the game is being overlooked on purpose because of who his dad is. I can’t come to terms with that.”

“What if the cops find out who was with you in that apartment?” Martin asked.

Eric shrugged. “I don’t know. I won’t tell them no matter what they do to me.” He’d given it a lot of thought and had come to the conclusion that perhaps he was in the wrong profession. “I’ve been thinking about resigning anyway. I know Internal Affairs is looking into it, but I think it’s pretty obvious who shot first.”

“You’re quitting because you got shot? I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that.”

“It’s not the shooting. I thought about it before the shooting. The truth is, I’m in love, and I want that more than I want to be a cop.” Eric wasn’t sure how he and Solo could make it work, but from what he understood, it was his job that made life dangerous for them to be together. Eliminating the job seemed like a no-brainer. “Who knows, maybe I’ll take up photography as a career instead of just a hobby.”

Mr. Lee stared at Eric for several moments before digging into his pocket. He handed Eric a cell phone. “I got a call this morning from a man who seemed very concerned about you. Said his name was Sam. He asked me how you were doing, and when I thought you’d be out of the hospital. Don’t ask me why, probably something honest in the guy’s voice, but I told him the truth. I didn’t know when you’d be out, but I told him you’d be fine.”

Eric bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. The thought of Solo tracking Mr. Lee down and actually calling him, filled Eric’s heart to near bursting. “Thank you for trusting him.”

Mr. Lee nodded before handing Eric the phone. “I’m gonna go downstairs and grab something for lunch. Why don’t you give Sam a call and let him know you’re okay?”

Eric clutched the phone to his chest. “Thanks,” he said again.

Martin got to his feet and headed for the door. “By the way,” he said without turning around, “you’re one hell of a photographer. I’m sure you could make a go of it.”

Eric smiled, knowing it was Mr. Lee’s way of telling him he agreed with his decision.

* * * *

Solo sat in his regular booth alone, cleaning the blood from his knuckles. There had only been three brothers who’d met him in the parking lot after Church, and all three beefs had been settled by the time the fights were over. Switch had decided it would be best for Rowdy and Solo to stick close to the club until they knew for sure whether or not the police were looking for them.

“More coffee?” Crane asked. He set a plastic bag filled with crushed ice on the table and gestured to Solo’s face.

Solo realized he’d been staring at his phone. “Yeah. Thanks, man.” He put the ice to his split lip.

“No problem. Any word?”

Solo shook his head. “Still waiting.” He’d remembered the name of Blue’s mentor and had looked him up in the phone book. It hadn’t been an easy conversation, but a necessary one. He laid everything out for the older man, his name, his affiliation with the Grave Diggers and his love for Blue. After he’d finished, he asked Mr. Lee if he’d do him the favor of checking on Blue and asking Blue to call him. All he wanted was to hear Blue’s voice, to assure himself that Blue was okay.

When the phone finally rang, Solo couldn’t pick it up fast enough. “Blue?”

“Hey.”

Blue’s voice sounded hoarse, but it was still music to Solo’s ears. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. They’re letting me out tomorrow,” Blue said.

“Yeah?” Solo’s heart soared. “Do you need a nurse? Because I know one who works for free.” God, if Blue let Solo in, he’d be the happiest man in the world.

“I’d like that. There’s some stuff I need to talk to you about, but I don’t want to do it over the phone.” Blue cleared his throat. “There’s a spare key taped to the back of the shutter to the right of the front door. Would you mind picking up enough groceries to last us a few days?”

“I don’t mind at all.” Solo couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He caught Crane staring at him and quickly schooled his expression. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Were you worried about me?” Blue asked.

Solo swallowed around the lump of emotion in his throat. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Chapter Seven

Solo stood back and scanned the bedroom. He’d arrived at Blue’s a few hours earlier, and had spent the time washing the sheets, remaking the bed, vacuuming, and putting away the groceries.

With a grunt of disgust, Solo shook his head and picked up the vase of flowers. He’d bought the small bouquet of daisies and carnations at the grocery store, but had had trouble finding a vase in Blue’s kitchen. After almost twenty minutes of looking, he’d finally decided to use a drinking glass. The choice came with its own set of problems. The flowers were too long which meant he’d had to spend another ten minutes finding scissors to cut them down. Once they were the right length, he’d done his best to arrange the individual stems. Of course, that ended in the certain knowledge that he’d never have a career in floral design.

Solo did his best to rearrange the flowers, wondering if he shouldn’t just throw them out before Blue got home and realized how bad he was at the whole romantic thing. His heart jumped when he heard the front door close. “Fuck.”