“Who is it?” Trev asked.
I saw the ink on the guy’s neck.
“The Hell Five,” I said. “Shit.”
They were a ruthless gang made up of bangers, MC guys, and had ties that went deep into underground business. There were several levels of the Hell Five and these guys that had attacked us were part of the street crew. Mainly they were the ones we dealt with when they decided to start trouble. Chances were they wanted to make a statement to Back Down Devil MC and the cash was just something like a bonus.
“Fuck,” I said. “I thought Ivan had this all protected.”
“So did I,” Trev said. “Let’s move.”
“What about this guy?” Trent asked.
Trev took out his gun and unloaded an entire clip into him. He then looked at both of us. Goddamn, Prez could be wild when he wanted to be.
“Put him back on his ride,” Trev said. “Prop him up the best you can. Let that be a message to anyone who wants to ride through this goddamn town. I’m sure sirens will be out here soon enough with that goddamn grenade blast.”
I looked at Trent and he nodded to me.
This was supposed to be a simple run. Drop off some packages in Tijuana. Drink tequila - on Ivan’s tab. Have fun with some wild ladies - again, on Ivan’s tab. Then come back and deliver the cash.
Nothing was ever easy.
Trev stood in the middle of the road and stared back down into the heart of Daurian.
I grabbed the asshole’s legs from the Hell Five.
The shit part of it all?
The night was just beginning.
two.
(belle)
Maggie convinced me to go out and have a glass of wine. I had called to try and check in with Jim but he didn’t answer. I shot him a quick text and he replied with his standard K and that was it. The entire time I was at the restaurant I felt guilty for leaving him home like that. I knew it was no longer my job to try and protect my big brother. I knew he hated it because he had grown up defending my honor time and time again. But for me, I had given up everything in my life for him and my father. Now it was just me and Jim in the house and the place was nothing but haunted.
We didn’t need some ghost crew showing up to find out what was wrong in the house though. Being haunted came from memories. Memories from when Jim had two legs, a crew cut, and was clean shaven and ready to fight the world. Standing at the airport, watching him walk away, dressed in camo, that was hard. Seeing him with his best friend Duke made it a little bit easier, but that was only an excuse I used to convince myself and my father with. Because when Duke looked back that last time, it was a double shot to my heart.
Duke came back in one piece. Jim came back missing a leg.
At least they were both alive.
Even if I never really got to see them whole again.
That was a long time ago though when Jim came back injured. The years flew by, like they always seemed to do, and things never got any easier for him or me. I could never complain though because… well… how could I? I didn’t go overseas to fight a war that was beat up in the news almost on a daily basis. I didn’t have strangers who spoke a different language shooting at me. And I didn’t throw two men out of a truck, saving their lives, while I took the brunt of a roadside bomb that should have killed me but only took my leg. And I didn’t carry the guilt of not being able to throw out the third man in the truck, who tragically paid the ultimate price by giving his life in a foreign country.
I buried my complaints, doubts, and anger and pain deep inside myself. I promised myself that things would get better, but after Dad passed away, I knew that being okay was merely a dream that I would forever chase and never obtain.
After I finished a glass of wine, I called it a night with Maggie. I had to drive home and she the same. She ordered a second glass and I made it a point to sit there, talking, until I felt she was okay to head home. She’d been coming off a breakup that had been lingering for six months. The every other weekend drunk calls from her ex to hook up again were dumped on my lap to decipher and translate.
We left with a hug and I drove home, alone, cruising slowly through the country roads that I had always called home. Dad had been smart and wicked savvy with his finances. Mom died when I was ten and Jim was twelve. Dad never remarried and never really dated. He took everything he had and dumped it into the house and to buy all the land around the house. He told us that he and my mother dreamed of owning all the land and having me and Jim build houses on it. They had planned on having more kids but life took a bad left turn, something I guess everyone experiences once or twice in their lives.
Again, another reason I couldn’t complain. My bad left turn didn’t include surviving a war or surviving cancer. My brother survived the war, my mother did not survive the cancer.