Elias (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

She seemed content just to lay in bed with him. She doted on him, rubbed and massaged his chest and thighs. She curled into him and kissed his skin. The longer they laid together, the stronger and less confused she became. By early afternoon they had made love twice, and she was giggling and laughing with him, and teasing him with playful jokes.

About one o'clock she looked up at him suddenly, and then blushed. "We forgot about the guys outside. Shouldn't we get them something to eat or… something?"

"I think they could probably do with a meal by now. That's very thoughtful of you."

"Well, I am the woman of the house, it's kind of my job, isn't it?" she asked, with a grin. "Come on, let’s get dressed and invite them in. They can't just stand out there, can they?"

"Well, that's kind of
their
job, baby." He smiled.

"Oh, but, they can have lunch, can't they?"

"Yes Chelsea. You're right. Let's go take care of the boys so they can take care of us," he agreed, amused at her worrying about men who were trained to stand guard duty in the desert.

The men that were known in the club as "the Guard" made their living as bouncers and body guards. All of them were ex-military, and some of them had even done time as mercenaries. They were tough, strong, and well-trained.

Chelsea slipped into a baby-doll t-shirt and a pair of Daisy Duke shorts, and then skipped out into the house saying something about ordering pizza. Elias watched her bounce away with a long exhale of relief. She seemed to be coming back to him, and a huge weight of worry fell from his shoulders.

The way she was acting this morning, almost childlike with her fears and trembling, had Doc's warnings about her condition pounding in his brain. He was a strong man, and strong-willed, but he didn't know if he could take losing her like that, or watching as her demons ate her alive from inside.

He lingered in the bedroom for a while, getting dressed slowly, and offering whatever god was looking out for his Chelsea prayers of thanks. Then he put on his shoulder holster, checked his gun, and walked out into the living room. There he found Chelsea with five men, all of them looking awkward and unsure about allowing themselves to be pulled inside by her. They looked to him, and he nodded his head, letting them know it was alright. They seemed to accept that and relaxed a little. Two of them remained standing, keeping near the front windows and the back door, but the other three relaxed into the available chairs.

"I ordered three pizzas, and four liters of coke," Chelsea told him. "That's enough, right?"

"I'm sure that will hold us for now," he agreed.

She talked easily with the men, and even playfully flirted with them after a while, until the pizza arrived. Then she paid the delivery boy, who couldn't take his eyes off her until Jeff, a six-six bouncer for a local strip club, closed the door in his face.

Chelsea served the pizza and drinks, talking about the ride yesterday and asking them about Sporsters and what she should know about the model, because she was buying one. Tom and Jeff shared a few tips, and Hank told her that she rode well enough that she might consider a Softail instead. She listened and asked some astute questions. All of which had Elias feeling better as time went on.

"You know," she said suddenly, as she refilled Jeff's glass of coke, "He's not just going to walk up to the door and start shooting. He won't come here."

All of the men, Elias with them, gave her their full attention.

"What makes you say that Chelsea?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Well, that would be stupid. Everyone would know it was him then, and even his cop buddies wouldn't back a play like that. He'll try something away from here. He'll stalk, and hire guys to watch the house, and do drive-bys. He'll find out where I go, and who I go with. Then he'll try bribes and coercion, or try to catch one of you guys with a warrant or simply have you arrested while I'm out with you, leaving me alone. Then he'll make his move."

She sat down next to Elias and looked at him. "He doesn't want me back Elias. He wants me dead."

Elias scanned his men, who were all taking this in, and then told her, "I came to the same conclusion last night. You said some things when you had your… Well, basically it was a meltdown, baby."

"I did? What did I say?" she asked a little softly.

"You talked about him killing someone. A woman," he offered.

"Mary," she sighed, and was suddenly very sad.

"Can you talk about that? Or would you rather talk to me alone?"

She looked at the men around her, and then back to Elias. "These guys are risking their lives for me, I think they should know the kind of man they are up against, don't you?"

"That's true, but I don't want you to hurt yourself again," he told her.

"I know, but I think I can do this," she replied. "Mary was like me. A drug mule for Tomas. He used her like me as well, you know, the sex stuff. I was only with him for a few weeks when he took both of us to a place, a house, down in South Houston. There he told Mary to suck him off. And she started to. Then he pulled out a gun while she was sucking on him, and shot her in the head."

Chelsea took a deep breath, and then said, "After that, he told me she wasn't doing it right, and that she was useless, and told me to finish him off. I was so scared that he was going to shoot me too that I nearly wet myself. But I did what he told me. After, he said that if I ever tried to leave him, he'd kill me. I believed him. I still believe him."

The silence in the room was close to deafening. Jeff was the first to move, getting up and going back to the front window to look outside. Elias could see the big man was trembling with rage. Then he noticed his own hand shaking as well.

Tom was the first to speak. "Chelsea, you said you were a mule. You were running drugs for him?"

Chelsea nodded her head, "But not across the border or anything like that. He would raid drug dealers here in the city, take their dope, and then resell it to his partners. He uses the department to find out good raiding marks. From what I heard, these guys were normally nubbies. New dealers, who just started. Sometimes they were competitors for his own partners. He would raid them with his cop friends sometimes. If he did that, most of the time the dealers would only be arrested. If he did it with his other partners, then they would be killed during the raid. They have fake uniforms, and badges, and that kind of stuff. Lots of it, and lots of guns. But the big deals were the cash raids. That's what Tomas considered prime targets. He would set up a buyer, and take their money. That way he didn't have to share with his other partners."

"How much are we talking here?" Dave asked, coming in from the back door.

"Hundreds of thousands sometimes. He didn't bother with anything less than fifty grand, coke or cash," Chelsea told him.

Elias could see the wheels turning in his men's heads. The same wheels were turning in his own. The man they were up against was connected, well-informed, ruthless, and had large amounts of cash resources. All of this was currently focused on one goal—ending Chelsea's life.

"Can you prove any of this?" Jeff asked from the front window.

"I can prove some of it," she replied. "I know names, and places, and stash locations. I know the partners, and some of the dealers who were killed."

Dave whistled under his breath, echoing everyone else's thoughts regarding just how motivated Tomas might be in getting rid of Chelsea. The general conclusion was—very.

Jeff looked over at Elias, "We're going to need a new game plan, boss."

Elias met his eyes and then nodded. "I agree." Then he turned back to Chelsea. "Can you write down this information for me? The names, partners, and victims you mentioned? Stash locations could be good as well if you can do that."

"Sure, I'll go get my laptop."

"Chelsea?" Dave asked before she could leave the room. "How much did you take when you left?"

She looked back at him. "Fifty grand out of the closet."

"How much was in the closet?" Dave pressed.

"Eight hundred," she told him, and then continued back into their room.

"Shit, boss, this guy is a big fish," Dave said.

"Kind of makes Larry's efforts seem a little foolish," Jeff agreed.

"No, not foolish," Elias told him. "We never believed that anything would stick or slow him down. The idea was to gather some resources of our own. Attract the attention of the cops, shed some light on the matter, and I believe in that respect we succeeded fairly well. Larry told me last night that he was suspended until his hearing tomorrow. That means Internal Affairs is probably looking at him a lot closer if they weren't already."

Elias got up and paced the room. "Look at it like this: Houston is a big city, but not so big you can pull shit like this on a regular basis and not attract attention. Someone has noticed him. Someone is already looking into him. What we need to do is find out who that someone is, and help them."

Dave looked over at him. "You mean, shift Tomas' focus off of Chelsea. Make her obsolete."

"Exactly," Elias agreed. "If we can get enough dogs on his trail, maybe one of them will take him down."

"Some of those victims might have friends as well," Jeff offered.

"That's a good thought too," Elias agreed. "You don't get to that size—not the size that Tomas would be interested in—without having resources of your own. That's very good. Two good fronts to come at him with. I like that."

"It would be nice to find out that he stepped on some heavy-hitting toes," Dave agreed. "I've got a few connections I can help with discovery on that angle."

"Larry is working on backgrounding Tomas now. I should give him a call and see where he is at with that, and then I should give John and Wild Bill an update. You guys get back to your posts. Chelsea is probably right, but let's not overestimate this guy. Sometimes simple is better. He might not care about who knows who got to her."

The five of them nodded and left to get back to their jobs. Elias went to his office and started making calls. After a bit Chelsea came in and sat on his lap, listening to him talk with Larry.

Once he hung up, she told him, "I'll get this all together for you. Do you think it will really help? I mean, getting a conviction probably won't happen with what I have."

"We aren't looking for a conviction, baby, just an edge," he told her.

"Alright, I'll get as much as I can down for you then," she said.

He gave her a kiss. "Thank you. You've helped us out a great deal today."

"Did I?"

"Yes. You really did."

"Good. Because I don't want you to die, Elias. I love you."

"I don't plan on dying, baby, and I love you too."

She smiled and kissed his lips. "I was hoping you would say that."

Chelsea kissed him deeply this time and then gave him a radiant smile before sliding back out of his lap and skipping out into the living room with a laugh. Elias watched her go over his shoulder, and then picked back up his phone to call John with the update.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Detective Tomas Brick had plenty of experience with the procedures around protective orders. Most of the time they were bullshit. In fact on the first offense of breaking an order, ninety-nine percent of the time in Houston, the judge would tell the violator, "Don't do that again," and that was it. He had no reason to believe that the judge wouldn't do the same with him—except he didn't.

He hired a lawyer, simply because his lawyer was basically free, being a good coke customer of his, and it was the prudent thing to do when the other side had a lawyer with a hard-on for you. He was glad he did, because Larry Turner, Attorney at Law and member of the White Wolves, certainly did have that hard-on.

Twenty depositions from witnesses were filed from that day at the restaurant all swearing that Tomas had made the threat that he would violently injure one Elias Neal, licensed protector of Chelsea Shore, and threatened Chelsea Shore as well.
Twenty
.

On top of that, somehow that fucking lawyer had two depositions, from his captain and commander, saying that Tomas was not on duty at that time, and had no case involving the Log Cabin or the White Wolves, and in fact no such case involving either was active in anyone's docket. Added to that, the lawyer was able to find out that the gun Tomas was carrying that day was not his service pistol.

Larry Turner also filed the writs for the order to be reviewed at this hearing for permanent status.

The judge, who Tomas knew to be lenient with members of the law force, wasn't so lenient with him. He made the protective order permanent for Tomas' lifetime. He then ordered that Tomas was to relinquish all of his firearms, other than his service pistol, and then ordered him five days in jail.

Son of a fucking bitch!

"Detective," the judge had said. "I warn you not to test me on this, but if you break this order again, I swear you will be doing five years, not five days."

Tomas was then escorted from the hearing, straight to county, and given an orange jumpsuit just like he was a regular joe.

Five days. Five fucking days.

"What the fuck are you going to do about this?" he asked his lawyer when he came to see him as soon as he was processed.

"What do you want me to do? It's five days. By the time I can process anything, you will be out," his lawyer told him.

"Fuck."

"Look, I'm going to hang around because I just found out that Internal Affairs is on their way down here to talk with you as well."

"What?"

"Yeah. So, I'll be around and come in with them if you want."

"Why the fuck would I want that? You can't even help me with a goddamn restraining order violation." Tomas told him.

His lawyer looked at him, and then shrugged. "Fine, I'm gone. See you in five days. Have a ball."

"Wait, what are they after?" Tomas asked.

"I don't know, but the feeling I got was that it is not the restraining order. They were going to talk with you today or tomorrow anyway."

Tomas did some quick thinking, but decided he didn't want this particular lawyer in the room with Internal Affairs. Restraining orders were one thing. Internal Affairs was a whole different story, and he didn't trust this asshole with that load of dirty laundry.

"No, take off," he told him. "I'll call you if it turns out to be something other than the order, and take it from there," he said, more reasonably than he felt. No sense burning bridges while you were standing on them.

Three hours later, Tomas was called from his cell to meet with James Nelson, the Detective with Internal Affairs; his assistant; and his captain. This was decidedly a bad thing, but he was happy he got that fuck-head of a lawyer out of here. The man couldn't keep his mouth shut about anything.

"Detective, I'm going to make this quick and dirty, because we all have other things to be doing right now."

"Should I have my rep here?"

"Not required. I'm not going to press any charges or anything like that. All I'm here to do is to tell you that we know you are dirty. We've known for some time. After talking with her lawyer for nearly an hour, we also believe that Ms. Chelsea Shore is going to be a prime witness for us. So, I'm just going to lay it out there: if anything happens to that young woman, if she is hit by a bus, or electrocutes herself, or is run over by a stampede, that you are going to be a prime murder suspect for the duration of a full investigation into the matter, and on suspension during the entire process—which I promise you will be for no less than a year."

"I thought I didn't need my rep," Tomas said dryly.

"Oh, you don't. I'm not threatening or filing anything. We're just talking, and I'm being friendly with information," Nelson told him. "Now, I think your captain has something to say, and then we'll get out of here."

His captain looked him over and then said, "I got a disturbing phone call this morning from this lawyer. Chelsea Shore's doctor and psychiatrist is under the impression that this young girl is suffering from acute PTSD caused by multiple rapes and forced prostitution. Her doctor tells me that she's in no condition at the moment to be interviewed, but that she will be in a month or so. The vagueness of the information I was able to acquire isn't enough to do anything with, but I'm suspending you because of this order violation for thirty days. I'll expect your weapon on my desk, with your badge, the day you are out of here. Is that clear?"

Tomas couldn't believe this was happening. "I'll see you in five days then," he said, barely controlling the seething rage inside of him.

The three other men then stood and began to walk out, when his captain turned back around and said, "I've got a daughter that girl's age. She looks like her, too. God help you if I find out even one small part of their story is true detective." Then they left.

Tomas was taken back to his cell, where he laid down on his bunk, told his cell mate if he wanted to keep is teeth to shut the fuck up, and thought this matter over. He had a ton of resources, a shitload of money, and connections inside and outside of the force, and couldn't do anything with any of them from inside here.

"So, they have five days of free range. Fine," he told himself calmly. "Five days from now, justice will ride again." And then he rolled over and went to sleep.

*   *   *

Wednesday at ten o'clock, Chelsea rode up to Doc's office with Elias at her side, Tom in front, and Dave behind her. Four other members were riding around somewhere, looking for tails and watching her back. She thought she spotted them a couple of times, but they weren't flying colors, so she couldn't be sure. Jeff was already in the lobby when she walked in. He gave her a nod and a smile, which didn't quite reach his eyes but was somehow warm anyway. Tom waited out in the hallway, and Dave remained with their bikes.

"I feel weird with all these men around me like this," she whispered to Elias. "Like I'm some sort of rock star or something."

"Sorry, has to be done, baby," he told her.

"I know, and I even like them, it's just weird." She shrugged.

"I'll be out here with Jeff; see you in an hour," he told her, and gave her a kiss.

Doc gave her a smile when she was shown into the office by the secretary. The secretary asked if she wanted a coke or something else to drink, but Chelsea shook her head and said, "No, thank you."

"Hi Chelsea, how are you feeling today?" Doc asked as soon as her assistant turned to go.

"I'm fine. Better. Much better, really. Much less confused," she reported.

"Before we go any further honey, I want you to know that what we talk about in this room is just between you and me. I'm not going to discuss it with anyone else."

"Not even Elias?"

"No, not even Elias. This is your time. You can say anything, or tell me anything you want, and it is safe in here," she told her.

"Not even John? I know you like him."

"Yes, I like John. Very much in fact, but no, not even John."

"Alright," she conceded.

"Can you tell me what you were confused about?"

Chelsea shifted a little in the chair. "About Elias. About why he still wanted me to be at his house and in his bedroom," she said softly. "I'm still not certain I'm good for him, but I love him and I don't want to leave. Is that selfish?"

"Selfish?" Doc asked.

"I feel selfish. I feel like he deserves much better, and he could get much better if I just left, or moved into the guest room."

"How does he feel about that?" Doc asked.

"He wants me to stay in his room," she said, and then corrected herself. "Our room. He says he loves me, and that he needs me. That it is his turn."

"His turn?"

"His turn to protect me, since I hurt myself protecting him and the club by coming clean," she explained.

"You did, you know," Doc told her. "Both things. Your breakdown was bound to happen sooner or later Chelsea, but you did help the club a great deal by telling Elias what you did."

"That's what Elias says. But you think I would have… um… broke, even if I didn't?"

"Broke?"

"I know I'm broken, Doc, I can feel it. Things aren't like they were inside me anymore. I can't think clearly sometimes, I forget things. I get confused about things. So don't tell me I'm not broke, okay?"

"Alright. I'm not sure I like the term, but really, it is as good as any," she allowed. "So, yes, I do think you would have broken even if you didn't come clean—and probably very soon. A few weeks from now, or maybe a month, but this was bound to happen. It is good that it happened with Elias, because he can help you, and he does care about you a great deal. He told me that night that it was his turn as well."

"He did?"

"Yes, he told me that he's not leaving you, and he was going to do whatever it took to see that you got better, no matter how broken you were," Doc replied.

"Why?"

"Why what, darling?"

"Why would he do that? I'm just a…"

"Just what Chelsea?"

She looked at her hands, "I'm just a used piece of ass. That's all I am. I'm not even a woman, not a real one. Not anymore. I use to be, but not now."

"Chelsea, baby, you are not only a woman, and a real one, but a very strong one."

"I don't feel strong. I couldn't do anything."

"You left him. You got away."

"No, not really. He's still out there, and now Elias, and John, and Larry, and even you, are in danger. I have men watching the house all the time now, did you know that? Five of them, all day long. So, I didn't really get away. He's still going to kill me. But know, he might kill Elias as well, and that's not fair. Not over me. Not something like me."

"
Someone
Chelsea. Someone."

Chelsea nodded. "Someone like me," she said weakly, and not convincingly.

"We're all a lot safer now that you did what you did," Doc offered. "Just because you hurt yourself doing it, doesn't make you less of a person. It doesn't mean that Elias wants you less, or needs you less."

"But I'm less now," she said.

"Do you still love him?" Doc asked.

"Yes, very much."