Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) (4 page)

Prosper and I sat together for a while after that, taking in the light of the setting sun. After a time, he pulled out his mouth harp, and treated me to a medley of ragtime rock ’n’ roll. I leaned back onto the heat-soaked rock and closed my eyes. For the first time in months, I let myself rest.

Despite the very scary finish, that cloud was lifting.

My father’s words had cracked the door of the prison of my own conflicted and guilt-ridden mind. I hadn’t been trapped alone in scary town after all. A posse had been right behind me the whole time.

And everything my father said was true. I had never intended to harm Manny or Ellie. I had not set out to take a life. I had set out to save one.

And I had. I
had
saved a life. Three to be exact.

Good for me.

I began to feel vindicated in a way I had not felt in a long time. Vindication is a heady thing. I decided to go with that high. The crippling sense of despair, and guilt, and the fear of eternal damnation was beginning to lift.

CHAPTER 8

A
few weeks after my showdown with Prosper, the relief that I felt that night began to grow into a restorative sense of peace. My nights were now spent in a deep and dreamless sleep. My days were filled with a sense of purpose that I had not felt in a very long time.

I was ready for a night out.

Glory and I drove up the private road that led to the Hells Saints compound. It wasn’t long before the strains of music, the rumble of exhaust pipes, and the sound of loud, raucous laughter assailed us.

No doubt about it, Prosper’s boys knew how to throw a party.

It seemed that every weekend there was something to celebrate; the patching in of a new member, the time-served release of a brother, marriages, divorces, births, and depending on the circumstances, sometimes even deaths were all causes for wild revelry.

Glory, Raine, and I didn’t always join in. As a matter of fact, more times than not, we avoided the gatherings at all costs. Glory called the parties “the dining, drinking, drilling, and debt festivals.” The boys ate, drank, and sexed up their fill, that was for sure. And just to make it interesting, there were always a few high-stakes games of cards, billiards, or darts thrown in. But tonight the celebration centered on Pinky’s birthday, and none of us wanted to miss that.

The party was fully under way by the time Glory and I got there. Spits were turning, kegs were tapped, and the tables groaned with food. A few dozen Harleys were parked on the grassy area. The kinsmen who owned them clapped each other hard on the back in greeting. The brothers generously passed around joints, ice cold bottles of beer, and flasks filled with Johnny or Jack.

A sea of big-breasted, tattooed, barely-dressed women flanked the outlaw men. Or they stood elsewhere, depending on where they fell in the rank and file of biker babes. The pecking order, which I had grown to understand, still made me not quite comfortable. I knew that the Saints were not the only club where the men frequently exchanged the women in their beds. The order of rank seemed to be wives, old ladies, club Band-Aids, and straight-up professional whores. I knew that “bitch swapping” was a practiced tradition in the hardcore biker clubs otherwise known as outlaw nations. The Hells Saints fully embraced that tradition and in my opinion, raised it a couple of notches.

How they managed to keep it all straight and not kill each other in the process fascinated me.

It was a complicated system and one in which these women took their roles very seriously. They worked hard to get their men, harder to keep them, and had a handful of hell ready to deliver to any woman who had a mind to take them.

Yikes.

My girls and I had learned the hard way that it was much,
much
better to be off that particular radar.

We were about twenty seconds into a good time when Jules, the Hells Saints version of a Viking god, whisked Glory away to wherever it is that Vikings whisk their women away. I wondered, for the millionth time, what the deal was with those two. And judging from the looks of green-eyed jealousy being flung in Glory’s general direction, I was not the only one.

I loved Glory, I did. We all did. But sometimes she made me want to scream.

Even after all this time, getting any personal information out of her was like nailing jelly to a tree. But I had not given up hope that one day Glory would open up. And I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that when that day came, it would definitely be worth the wait.

Alone now, I made my way to the kitchen house looking for my sister. The kitchen house was the largest structure on the compound. It had a big industrial kitchen and two wings of private housing for the club members’ private use. The local brotherhood had their own set of accommodations, and there was also a string of rooms kept at the ready for any visiting club members who might want to make use of them.

Raine wasn’t there yet, but Diego was. By way of greeting, my brother-in-law tossed me a beer. He and I sat down on the worn, comfy couch and threw back a couple of cold ones.

“You look a whole lot better, little sister. You’re still too goddamn skinny, and you’re still sporting that blue under your eyes. But I am glad to see you don’t look like something that I scraped off the bottom of my boots anymore.”

“Jesus, is that supposed to be a compliment?” I took a hit off my beer.

“Yeah, Claire, it actually is. For too long, little sister, you have been barely
there
. Everyone has been fucking worried about you. Now, it looks like you’ve been sleeping a little more. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Things are better, D. Just learning to live with the decisions I’ve made.” I looked at him.

Then, thinking of Reno, I added, “And the decisions that have been made for me.”

“Ain’t we all, little sister. Ain’t we all.” He nodded his head. Diego reached for the flask that sat on the table and splashed something strong into two shot glasses.

He handed one to me, lifted his own and said, “To figuring shit out.”

I raised my glass in answer. “To figuring shit out.”

We sat quietly for a few minutes, at ease with one another and deep in our own thoughts.

“So, what’s next?” Diego was first to break that comfortable silence. He nodded a greeting at Crow as he passed by.

“Next?” I looked at him. I was feeling relaxed from the little somethin’ somethin’ settling in my belly. I reached for my beer chaser.

“Yeah, next,” Diego answered, taking another pull from the frosty bottle. “Raine’s got the baby, and she’s still doing that accounting shit for Ruby Reds. Glory’s got her fishing, and from what I hear, a full-time addiction to the Home Shopping Network.” He grinned.

I grinned back. “She cooks and bakes too. Bakes up a freaking storm.”

Then I patted my brother-in-law’s flat stomach.

“And don’t you go telling me that you haven’t been sampling some of those goodies yourself, big brother.”

He looked at me in mock horror. “Man’s got to have a little meat on him. Besides, that’s pure muscle you’re handling right there.”

He was not wrong.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I teased him. Then I grew thoughtful. “Hey, Diego?” I looked at him with wariness. I had been quietly harboring this idea for a while.

“Yeah, Claire?” Diego gave me his full attention.

I pulled at the wet label on my frosty bottle. I was suddenly shy to say the words out loud.

Diego waited me out.

“What do you think about me going to school?” I looked up at him, suddenly.

“School? What kind of school?” Diego arched his eyebrow.

“College kind of school,” I said softly.

He was still staring at me, so I went on.

“I have been thinking about it for a while. I always liked school. I got pretty good grades in high school. I was thinking about maybe starting off with some basic intro classes. If that goes well, I could look into choosing a major in business management or something like that. Before things got all messed up, before
I
got all messed up, I was on the management team at the bank. They liked me, and I think that I did a pretty good job for them. Maybe I can use what I learn to help out the club, like Raine does.”

I said the words in one quick breath, desperate to get it all out before I lost my nerve.

Diego just sat there with one eye squinting at me. So I continued.

But more slowly this time.

“I know I might be kind of old to start something like that . . .” My voice fluttered and trailed off in embarrassment. I figured most people my age had it all figured out by now. But then again, I really had no idea what normal was.

Diego looked at me thoughtfully.

“You know, little sister, I like it. It’s a good idea. Right now, the club has three bars including Ruby Reds. Gianni and his crew are looking to put up two hotels in our territory. If all goes as planned, there’s going to be plenty of legit work down the road. Only makes sense that we are going to need people who know their shit. College kind of shit,” Diego said.

“So, you think I should do it?” I asked, after a pause.

“Oh, hell, yeah. As a matter of fact, I am sitting here wondering why you ain’t done it already, sweetheart.”

When Diego smiled at me, the lines around his eyes crinkled out like rays of sunshine. My brother-in-law didn’t smile often, but when he did, it was worth noticing.

“Really?” I mirrored his smile with one of relief. Because the more I had thought about it, the more I really wanted to do it.

Diego nodded. And then to celebrate, Diego and I clinked our beers together.

Crow came over and leaned in. “What’s up?”

“Claire is going to be a college fucking student,” Diego said.

“No shit, babe?” Crow’s beautiful emerald eyes glittered.

He looked impressed.

“No shit,” I confirmed, feeling a little impressed myself.

“So what’s that going to look like?” Crow was interested.

“I really have no idea where to even start,” I shrugged. “But I guess I will find out soon enough. Maybe I will put a call into that college in the valley and make an appointment next week to go and talk to somebody.”

“Bring your car in before you head down there. I’ll have the boys look at it,” Crow said.

Then he turned to Diego. “Heap of shit she’s driving needs new tires at the least. That fan belt could possibly be on its way out too. Replaced the water pump last time it was in. My guess is the fuel pump is next. Can’t have her taking that trip every day without checking that shit out first.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” Diego nodded in agreement. “That thing’s been on its last legs for a while now.”

“It’ll make it,” I said with a sinking feeling. What they said made sense. But I couldn’t afford a new car. Even the tires would be stretching it.

“Yeah, Claire. It’ll make it, maybe twice. But after that, who knows? Don’t want you breaking down on that thruway, little sister. That shit’s too far to come tow you back every other day.”

I sighed.

Well, there goes that idea,
I thought to myself. Diego and Crow were right. My car was a little shit box. In the past month I’d gotten it
towed twice. I knew I needed a new car, but I couldn’t swing classes and a loan.

“Well, maybe I could take the bus.” I sighed.

Crow snorted. “Darlin’, you ain’t taking no bus. We’ll figure that shit out.”

Diego stood up, reached into his pocket and threw a set of car keys at me.

“What’s this?” I reached high to catch them.

“That’s me figuring shit out.” Diego took another hit off his beer. “Brother’s right, if you’re serious about this school thing, then you’re going to need something reliable to get there in. That piece of shit you’ve been driving saw its last day about a hundred years ago.”

“You’re giving me the Jeep?” I couldn’t believe it.

Diego nodded.

“Do you think that Raine is going to be good with this?” I eyed him.

“I think that Raine is going to be great with this,” Diego answered.

“Minivan time?” I teased.

Pipe, a Hells Saints soldier, had been walking by and chimed in. “Yeah!” He gave a rebel yell. “Minivans fucking rule!”

Even Crow laughed at that. Which, by the way, was a rare and beautiful thing.

Diego was halfway toward the door, but he turned to give Pipe the finger.

“I just changed my mind. Give me those keys back,” he growled at me.

But then he smiled. Big.

I smiled big right back at him.

Then, feeling the booze and the love and the happy, I let out a rebel yell myself. And just for the hell of it, I coupled it all with a hoot and a holler. To the delight of the three half-drunken fools watching me, I even did my very own silly version of a happy dance.

And, because I let that happy place reign supreme for all of about three little minutes, I did not hear the familiar footsteps as they beat a path toward the frame of the darkened doorway.

Me and my stupid little happy dance.

I did not look up when the shadow flitted against the scarred wooden floor.

But I wish I had.

I really, really
wish I had.

CHAPTER 9

A
s Reno pulled in to the Hells Saints compound, he hit the throttle with a minute’s worth of fury before easing it up and parking it next to the two dozen or so Harleys that littered the driveway. Making his way past the fire pits of roasting pigs, grills of sizzling steaks, and kegs of cold beer, Reno walked through the yard. Nodding to his brothers in greeting, he stopped to take a toke of an offered joint and to grab a hit off a flask.

It was good to be home.

After traveling for almost three straight days, Reno’s nerves were coiled rattlesnake-tight. He had shown up at the airport determined to take the first plane out. The large amount of green he had to fork over for that ticket rewarded him with two long layovers before landing him in an airport almost three hours away from where he had taken off. After a long-ass expensive cab ride to pick up his Harley, Reno had traveled half the night before he hit a rainstorm that forced him under a bridge to wait it out.