The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club (40 page)

She gave him a confused look. He could tell right away that she wasn’t the brightest star on the Walk of Fame. “You’re name is Vegas, like Las Vegas?”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Not very original,” she said with a smile that was supposed to put him at ease.

“And yours?”

She leaned in, spreading her legs a touch. “Candy.”

Vegas laughed. “Not very original.” She shrugged and smiled. “Look, I’m gonna be honest: I don’t want sex from you.”

Candy nodded. “I get that a lot. You want me to watch or call you names while you jack off? I didn’t bring any of my dominatrix stuff, but we can always improvise.”

Vegas leaned back in his chair. “Whoa, whoa. Cool your jets. I’m not lookin’ for anything sexual. I need some pain killers. Hate to be presumptuous about your profession, but I figured you might be able to help me out.”

Candy leaned back on the bed and let out a sigh of bluish smoke. She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. First of all, you’re paying me the cash we agreed on over the phone. Second of all, yeah. I can get you whatever you’re looking for.” She spotted the bottle on the table. “Give it to me. I’ll make a call.”

Vegas grabbed the bottle and tossed it to her. After looking at the label, Candy smiled, “Ryan.” Her voice sounded sing-songy. Vegas just looked away. She pulled her phone out of the red purse. After popping her gum, she put the phone to her ear.

“Yeah, it’s me. Can you get me some…” She looked at the label again and read it slow and deliberate. “Demerol? I’m outside of Silverado Ranch.”

After a few seconds, she turned the bottom of the phone away. “Gonna be an extra two hundred bucks, Vegas.” He nodded and gave her the
hurry up
fingers. “He’s good for it. How long?” Another pause. “Okay, I’ll text you the address.”

She hung up the phone, then tossed it to Vegas. “No judgments from me. Text the man the address and give him a half hour.”

Vegas typed in the address to the motel and sent it to
The Muscle.
He stretched in spite of the pain and handed the phone back to Candy. “And now we wait.” He smiled, just the thought of relief seeming to calm the need throbbing within him.

“I applaud your loyalty to family. I really do. But Mike, I’m not gonna ask you again.” Captain had already broken two of the mechanic’s fingers. He was getting impatient.

He pulled a handgun that was tucked into the back of his jeans. He pushed the barrel to Mike’s knee. Mike was sweating, and Captain knew it was running into his eyes. The mechanic was squinting and trying to clear the sting, but his hands were bound to the chair, and one of them was disfigured. He wouldn’t enjoy wrenching for the next few months.

“I’m dead either way. Do you understand that?” Spit ran down his chin as he pleaded. “Carlos will kill me.”

Trask turned around from the workbench. “
We’ll
kill you. Do you not get that? Jesus.” He threw up his hands and walked out of the garage.

Captain smiled and looked back to Mike. The mechanic was breathing heavy and shaking his head.
Trask still has a thing or two to learn
, he thought. He got down on his haunches, eye to eye with Mike.

“Sure, we can kill you now for being a big man, and if we fail and Carlos traces us back to you, he’ll kill you. Those are two options, but they aren’t the only two options. The third option—and my personal favorite—is that we find Carlos, and we kill him. That would leave you to go back to your normal nine-to-five life down one worthless cousin.”

Mike spit to his side, careful to avoid Captain. He noticed that bit of respect.

“So if my math is right, that is a sixty-six point six percent chance of you dying, which is quite a bit lower than your estimate of one hundred percent. And that’s just playing the numbers. Let’s say you tell us where to find Carlos. We head there and either he dies, or we do. That brings your odds to fifty-fifty. We’re getting there, huh, Mike?”

“Come on, man.” Mike was drained. Captain knew it, but he also knew when he was getting close.

“Now, it might be fifty-fifty if it was one on one, but it ain’t, is it? Tell me how many guys he’s rolling with.” Mike hadn’t answered the question before, but Captain had a better feeling this time around.

Mike tried to raise his head, but his strength was fading. “Ten or fifteen, I don’t know for sure.” He whined the words out, as if his cousin was already sliding the knife in.

“We’re riding thirty strong, so that just tipped the odds in our favor. I ain’t all that good at math, but things are sure lookin’ sunny on your side of the street, Mike.” Captain was close. He knew it. He saw Trask in the doorway leading from the office to the garage and raised a finger, making sure he stayed put.

A tear rolled down Mike’s cheek, turning pink as it ran through the blood around his nose. “Fine. Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Captain laid a tender hand on the mechanic’s shoulder. “You’re safe now, Mike. No more harm will come to you. I give you my word.”

Mike found the strength and looked up at Captain. He was laughing through the pain. “You can’t protect me. Carlos can’t protect me. You can’t even protect yourselves. I’ve seen that man. I’ve looked into his eyes and seen pure evil. Go with God, my friend. Go with God.”

Captain stood up. He pulled out his knife and flicked out the blade. Cutting the duct tape that bound Mike’s hands, he freed the man. “I’ve looked in the same eyes. I didn’t see nothin’ in them that I haven’t seen in a mirror,
amigo.
”

Mike took his broken hand in his good one and stared as Captain walked away.

Trask had a wide smile on his face as he stepped out of the fix-it shop. “We got an address. We ride.” He pointed out two of the recruits. “You two—you stay here with Mike. He’s gonna wanna get word to his cuz. Once you hear from us, the mechanic can seek the appropriate medical attention. Until then, don’t let him go, blah, blah, blah.”

The two men, both looking hurt at the loss of any real action, nodded and headed inside the garage. Trask turned to the group of bikes parked in the dry parking lot. Everyone was waiting for his word. He looked around through the dark sunglasses.

Enterprise was a wasteland on the outskirts of Sin City. Trask could just barely make out the glass high rises of Las Vegas from here. They’d be heading a bit south of the strip, the bright and shiny illusion of luck watching over them as they did. The address Mike gave was on East St. Louis Street, and Trask couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

They were heading for trouble in Las Vegas, but the fighting spirit of East St. Louis would be there, too. Gunner came over and leaned in. “We got what we need?”

“We got an address.”

“You think the info is good?”

Trask looked back to Captain, who was wiping blood from his hands. “Yeah. Captain is a magician. He’s good cop and bad cop all rolled into one. We’re good.”

Gunner lifted an eyebrow. “Any word on Vegas?”

“Nah, the mechanic said he came in asking for a bike converted to run with just the right foot, threatened the dude’s family. Two weeks later, Vegas picked up the bike, and that was the last time he saw our old friend.”

Trask threw a leg over his Harley and turned the key. He’d let Gunner pass the word around.

Gunner headed back toward the large pack of bikes. “Same two groups. My group is gonna hang back until Trask’s boys are in place. We’re gonna be the ones rockin’ and rollin’, so if you need to make any calls, do it now.”

From the back, someone shouted, “We got time for the slots first?”

After the laughter faded, Gunner replied, “If we make it out, everyone better roll the dice, because you’ll be some of the luckiest motherfuckers I know.”

The laughter eased the tensions they were all feeling. Some had fought for their lives before. Others wanted to taste blood and see war for the first time. Others just wanted to go back to the old ways. For years, the Rising Sons had lived peacefully. The old-timers were ready to ease back into the quiet rides and protection rackets.

Gunner fired up his motorcycle, letting everyone behind him know that it was time to ride. He leaned over and pulled Raven to his bike. He kissed her hard, his hand on her lower back, keeping her close. His heart raced knowing it could be the last time. He shook those thoughts away by sliding his hand down to her ass and giving it a squeeze. They’d both come back from Las Vegas, and they’d have their next trip to the reservoir.

She broke the kiss, pushing away from him with a playful grin. Then she mounted her own Harley and brought it to life.

Trask nodded back to Gunner before dropping his machine into gear. They were a half hour from their destiny.

Trask and Captain were pointing bikers in directions around the small metal warehouse. Even from a distance, they knew it looked a little too clean to be on the level. Not
clean
clean, but it just gave off a vibe. They’d hit their share of meth labs and drug dens to know when something wasn’t quite right.

It gave the image of being just another industrial building on the block, but it didn’t have anywhere for a semi-truck to back up to it. The place was filled with trailers, but there was no way to load anything into them. Trask guessed it was more of a clubhouse, a place Maldonado could take debtors and anyone else he was paid to take care of.

Trask walked down the sidewalk, his gun tucked into his jeans. As he passed the building, he looked for the basement window his mother had mentioned. The windows all looked blacked out, and the front of the building didn’t give too much away. When he didn’t spot any basement windows, he kept walking past. Captain wasn’t far behind him.

Pulling out his gun, Trask ducked down and headed around the back, filtering in with the tractor trailers. He ducked beneath one of them, working his way toward the back of the metal building. The place looked deserted, but the air conditioner gave Maldonado away.

Hanging from a back window, it was working overtime, a steady drip of water feeding the weeds beneath. Trask saw a back door, and just past it, he saw what he was looking for: a semi-circle well at a small, ground-level window. He took his time and worked around the entire building.

After coming full circle, he met up with Captain at the corner of the street. “The building looks like a stiff breeze would blow it down, but I guarantee that we can’t get through those doors without a dozer.”

“Yeah. You got a plan?” Captain looked over his shoulder. He had men spaced out all down the street. Most of them were out of sight, but others were playing it casual and walking laps down the block.

Trask nodded with a smile. “I do, indeed.”

Captain listened to the plan and got his head around it. “I’ll have half the guys come around to the back. It’s just stupid enough to work, Trask. When you make your move, it’s gotta be quick, though.”

“It’ll be plenty quick. Make sure Gunner’s guys know Faith is in the basement, against the rear of the building. Tell them to be careful, too. We need Maldonado alive.”

Captain put a hand on Trask’s shoulder, “Trust me, brother. I don’t have to tell them shit. They all know why they’re here.”