Bomb (Ruin Outlaws MC #1) (4 page)

Becky consoles me for a bit and lets me come out when I’m ready, and I take a couple extra minutes to compose myself. For the first time, I can’t wait to just scrub some prissy dogs for once.

But still, something about that man. Logan? I roll his name around in my head, and the Ms. Prissy Dog I’m cleaning shakes her coat and gets soap on my face. I barely notice I’m wiping it away, because all I can do is recreate the scene of the accident. The way he walked up to me... his scent.

“Cassie!” I hear Becky call, in a strained voice. I glance over at her and realize she must’ve been saying my name for the last couple of minutes. She looks confused that it took me so long to reply. My cheeks are burning, and I quickly tilt my head to show her I’m listening. “Jesus. What are you doing? Maybe you should go home.”

“No,” I protest immediately. “No, I’m fine!” I turn back to the dog and pour water on it, briefly looking in its eyes. The dog looks like it's pitying me for being absentminded. Like the dog knows anything.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, especially since I was three hours late. It’ll be an anemic paycheck.

“W
hat shit luck,” Tank says. He’s got his elbows firmly planted on the torn felt of the sea-green pool table, and I’m sitting in a stool, trying to not think about what happened. I can feel the tension in the air hanging like sickness.

“Bomb, why aren’t we visiting Surge at the hospital? This is bullshit that we had to take his colors too.” Driver throws the damaged vest on the table and lets it crumple. The RUIN MC patch stares up at me. The flaming skull with fangs doesn't have eyes, but if it did, I'm sure they'd be judging me. The other men look at me, uneasy, but not sure if they should say anything.

“No,” I say. I meet Driver’s eyes, just as he curls a fist and slams it onto the table. I add, “We can visit him, but not all at once.”

“Why?”

I sigh and look down for a minute, trying to decide how I’m going to word what I’m trying to say. “Surge isn’t stupid, he knows why we took his cut.” I point at the mess of leather, suddenly realizing how torn up and frayed it is. “We don’t want the police getting involved. If he’s just a civilian, it’s no big deal. Trust me, I’ve dealt with this kind of shit before.”

“What kinda shit? Where do you think you are? This isn’t California, Bomb,” Driver says. I shoot him a frustrated look.

“I know that, shit. But that doesn’t mean we don’t take precautions. This is what Surge would have done for any of us.” I look to Tank, who hasn’t interjected once. “I didn’t know I was getting involved with a bunch of children.” He shifts in his seat, but doesn’t look at me. I groan and catch Driver’s glare again, my voice loud enough to address everyone. “Driver, just go with one other guy to visit Surge. And don’t wear your cuts, for Christ’s sake. Surge would be pissed if he saw you show up with them on, even if you were consoling him.”

Driver mumbles something that I ignore. He’s still a bit hot headed, but I can’t blame him. Surge didn’t look too good, but he wasn’t any worse than I’ve seen. He’s a tough mother fucker, at least. But, what about the drug deal he was talking about doing? Was that not something that this gang had done before? Jesus. What have I gotten into?

I pull Tank aside and away from the other men. As I start to talk, Driver and two others spill out of the bar, the bright light from outside blinding us for a moment as the door swings open and shut. Tank looks at me suspiciously, and I lower my voice. “What the fuck, Tank? I thought Surge would’ve warned me about the crew I was joining. I can deal with Rifle mouthing off, but if these guys can’t keep their heads cool...”

“They’re kids, Bomb,” Tank says. He looks across the bar to the other members, who are quietly joking amongst themselves. I follow his gaze and really look at them for the first time. Under the tattoos and pony tails, some of them really are just young. As if he’s read my mind, Tank continues, “The drug deal that Surge had planned would’ve been a lot of the crew’s first real outing.”

“What about me?” He looks back to me.

“Surge doesn’t need you proving anything. What you did today was enough, and he knows it, I’m sure.”

I purse my lips and fume. Sure, of course. I meet Tank’s stare. “I meant what I said earlier. I didn’t sign up to babysit a bunch of children.”

“You ain’t, they’re just messed up.” Tank is sincere. He’s only a little older than some of the others, but his frame and composure make him seem a hundred years wiser, sometimes.

“Anyway, I gotta go check on something...” I say. I grab my vest and move between him and the pillar blocking the wall. I can feel him watching me as I maneuver through the group of men. I grab my beer and finish it, and move toward the exit.

Just as I reach the door though, someone bursts in. Rifle looks like he’s in a frenzy, and he pushes me back into the building. He jabs his finger into my chest and spit flies out his mouth. “This is your fault!”

I shove his hands away from me and straighten myself out. “Back off, Rifle, I didn’t do shit.”

“I’m the sergeant at arms, if you hadn’t joined up then Surge wouldn’t have kicked me out. I could’ve protected him.”

The other’s attention shifts to Rifle and me, but I don’t care. “Bullshit, no one could have stopped that. You weren’t there, you don’t even know. You’d be dead.”

Rifle gapes and frowns. “Don’t you think the Skeletons are gonna find out about this? Then we’re toast. We don’t have the man power to keep a grip on our territory if everyone thinks we’re dying like flies.”

“Surge ain’t dead, and how would they find out?”

Rifle shuts his mouth and purses his lips. His eyes avoid mine, and he fumes. I shake my head. “Unless you’re going around bragging to people.”

“People see shit, Bomb, and they talk.” He shoves me back one more time and walks over to the other men, who seem somewhat relieved to see him. I’d rejoin them, but can already feel Rifle’s dagger-eyes on me. No use in fighting it.

I spit on the floor and walk out.

I climb onto my motorcycle and start it. The engine howls and revs to life, before chugging along with a satisfying drone. I fish out my wallet and pull out the ID from the woman at the accident. Cassie Clements. I recite her address and nod, remembering the area, almost with a pang of nostalgia. I can’t make my little house visit just yet though. I’m glad none of the guys asked about the driver. Maybe they figured I riled her up enough when we talked. Truth is, I feel a little riled up about her.

I still don’t know why Surge darted off like that. I had just cleared the intersection then he came out of no where and nearly got himself killed. I have to visit Surge. What am I going to tell him if he asks about the driver? Will he demand we skin her alive? It isn’t outside his idea of justice, and a long time ago, mine too. But...

. . .

I park my bike at the hospital, and turn my leather vest inside out, hiding the colors. I knew there was a reason I got it reversible. With my patches hidden from prying eyes, I head into the doors of the ER and find where Surge is being kept.

The receptionist tells me that Daniel Trenski is staying on the second floor, which is a relief. At least he’s not in the intensive care unit.

After wandering through the halls and getting my fair share of strange looks from some of the staff and other patients, I finally find his room. His name is lazily written on a piece of paper outside the door. Driver is inside, and he’s talking with Surge. Thank god, he’s actually awake. I don’t have to wait all night for him to come to in some movie-fashion. I step inside, and both of their eyes turn to me. A bright smile cracks Surge’s face, and he invites me closer. Without his leathers on, he looks absolutely ancient. The large purple bruises that are creeping up his chest don’t help.

“Logan,” Surge says, somewhat teasingly. “The doctors got me loaded up on some experimental pain medication, I don’t know what that means, but it feels real nice.” Driver chuckles a little and gives me a look that tells me he’s over our little dispute. I can’t blame him, he was just worried after all.

“Glad you’re not dead,” I say. I crash into the bedside chair and lean in close, examining the cuts on his face. “Surprised your brain wasn’t hanging outta your skull, to be honest.”

“Yeah, me too.” Surge looks to Driver. “Derrick, go see if you can find a nurse to get me some more of this drug, it’s running low or something. I don’t care what you tell her.” Driver nods and dashes out the door.

I lower my voice and lean in closer. “Surge, be straight with me, how much shit did I get myself into? Because those men back at the bar were acting like school children.”

“They’re fresh scabs,” Surge says. He smiles a little. “Not everyone was as stone cold as you were at their age.”

“Still. What about this drug thing? I thought I was joining an experienced club...”

Surge frowns. “You did. Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Tank handle it if I’m still in here. The doctors say it could be a couple of days, but I’m lucky. Or something. No bones broken or anything, which I can’t believe.” I didn’t even notice. I stare down at his legs, which are hidden under a blanket. “Something about the bumper just melted right around my leg, can’t believe it myself...” he trails off, and I take the opportunity to steer the conversation back in my direction.

“What can I expect out there though? If we have a bunch of nervous cats doing drug deals, someone weak is gonna be our downfall .”

Surge frowns again and shakes his head. “Logan, you gotta relax.”

I cut him off, “What if another gang beats us to it? We lost our entire operation just because you were too soft on a bunch of kids.”

His voice lowers to a growl and he snaps out in anger. “Don’t you dare. Just because shit went wrong for you after I left California doesn’t mean it will here. We ain’t small fry, but we don’t have giant whales hovering around us either. Fuckin’ chill already. I’m the one who got in an accident, goddammit.”

I bite my tongue and lower my gaze. Getting shit on by the president isn’t the right way to do things, but what else can I do? “I just don’t want to watch someone die again, Jesus.”

“No one is gonna die.” I look at him and realize he thinks I’m talking about him. He still hasn’t asked about the driver, does he even remember? Maybe he is too old to be running things — he's been out of California for too long. To him, a drug smuggling exchange might just be as easy as getting money out of an ATM, but I know better. Shit went wrong all the time in Cali, and it won’t change just because we’re in Arizona now. For all I know, it’ll be harder.

Driver comes back and knocks on the door. Surge’s expression changes instantly, and he looks over my shoulder and waves him in. Driver holds up his hands in defeat, and he looks apologetic. “The nurse told me she was too busy to be giving an old man more fun-juice.”

Surge laughs and nearly knocks me in the face as he throws his hands out. I duck out of the way and push my chair back before standing up. He coughs and gathers himself again, and has Driver sit down next to us. I only realize now that Driver hasn’t said a word to me, but he also hasn’t screamed at me. Surge looks at me again with eyes that make me feel like I’m a rookie back in Cali again.

“I heard that you two got in a fight earlier,” he says. “Well...” I almost expect him to dish out some wise mantra, but he doesn’t. “Cut that shit out. I can’t have two of my most loyal members fighting with each other.” Driver opens his mouth to protest, but Surge cuts in. “No, I said shut up. Driver, this drug run is gonna be your test, unless you wanna prove yourself another way... but I want you to listen to Bomb. He might not admit it, but you’re more alike than you think.” He blows air out of his nose and seems to think.

Driver nods and looks at me. He really is young, isn’t he? I feel old, even though I don’t have the gray in my stubble just yet, like Surge. “Bomb might be an ass sometimes, but he’s not an idiot.”

“Alright Surge, that’s enough,” I say. I let out a weak laugh and try to relax the atmosphere, but it’s still a little tense. I can tell that Surge is holding onto something he wants to say. I let it go though. “Now shake on it, it’s bad enough I can’t get Rifle to fucking calm down around here.”

Driver extends his hand first, and I give him a firm grip and look in the eye. Surge is right though, I do remember getting my patch really quickly before, not everyone is as determined. As I let go of his hand, I realize that Surge’s test is less about the money, and more about hardening his gang. With the talk of other rivals in the area, and the weaklings coming out of the woodwork, we’re gonna need it.

I stand and grab my vest. The patches were slightly exposed as it lay on the chair, but no one would have been able to make heads or tails of them.

Surge coughs and raises his voice to grab my attention. “Logan, did you get the driver’s information?”

Still turned away, I shake my head firmly. I slip my jacket on and approach the sliding door that leads out into the hallway.

“Strange...” Surge says.

My heart pangs a bit with regret, but I bite back any impulses. I can’t throw her to the dogs yet. I need to see what she told the police. I have to repeat this reason to myself as I start up my motorcycle and peel out of the parking lot, because I know deep down, it’s just a weak-ass excuse. I don’t know why I feel like this.

It’s her eyes I really want to see again. And if I’m being honest, her body. She was pretty breathtaking, even standing on the side of the road. Those pouty lips trying to hide her anger at me for daring to approach her. Was it anger? It has to be more than her body though, I couldn’t risk my loyalty to the crew over something like that, could I? Nah, of course not.

Surge knows I got her information... he’s known me long enough. Right?

A
nother uneventful day at work, and I get home to find Sara locked in her room again. I tip toe up to her door and plant my ear on it, feeling snoopy for eavesdropping. I can hear her giggling, and it sounds like she’s on the phone, until I hear a low growl of a voice. I instinctively know it must be Mark, since she was talking about him, but for a split second, my heart skips a beat as I imagine it’s the motorcycle rider moving in on my roommate. I choke back spit and pull away from the door, suddenly aware of how hungry I am.