Indivisible (Steel Talons Motorcycle Club Book 3) (4 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jim hung up his cell and shoved it in his pocket. He was beginning to wonder what good it did to have contractors on the club payroll if he still had to threaten their families to assure good work. At least now he was certain that by tomorrow morning the spare room in his house would be set up like a plush hospital room, completely equipped for Susan’s father. The nurse would meet them all at the hospital for the transport, and she’d be given the medicine regimen and daily care. With the salary Jim offered, the woman better not make a mistake, or she’d be staring up from six feet under.

“That sounded rough,” Ari ground out, stepping up beside him and lighting a cigar. Jim considered him with interest. The two of them had kept a distance since their little altercation, and Ari’s nose was still swollen and looked like, this time around, it was going to heal crooked. Not that it marred his looks any worse than they already were. “Everything alright on the home front?”

Jim nodded, lighting his own cigarette. “Yep, it’s all good.” He stared straight ahead of him, cautious of getting in too deep with his club president.

“We’ve got a problem on our hands, Wade. Any thoughts on what to do about the Diablos?”

Jim couldn’t remember the last time Ari had asked his advice, and he had to wonder what the man’s angle was. He opened his mouth to respond, but several of the brothers started yelling. He squinted toward the road, his mood darkening as he saw a train of three black sedans turn in. “What the hell?” he muttered, taking a couple of steps forward.

“This can’t be good,” Ari grunted, following. Together, they strode forward to meet the unexpected visitors.

The minute they stepped out of the car, Jim recognized the suits. Only FBI wore such stiff, no-nonsense suits, and that definitely wasn’t good. He ran through his head, trying to recall if there was anything on the property that was incriminating. Thankfully, he came up with nothing—unless his crew had made a move without his knowledge. If they had, he’d shank them himself once they made it to prison.

Two of the six men flashed their credentials, and Jim made straight for them. “I’m Agent Schertz, and this is Agent Wilson.”

Jim nodded amicably. “Jim Wade. Can I help you boys with something?”

“Mr. Wade, weren’t you recently released from custody on charges of murder?” Agent Wilson asked in a deep, accusatory voice.

Jim grabbed his jacket and smiled. “I was released because the charges were dropped. I didn’t shoot or kill anyone. My brothers and I were attacked. The bullets that killed the victims were deemed to be friendly fire. Is that what you came all this way for?”

“No, sir, we have another matter to investigate,” Agent Schertz told him. “We received an anonymous tip that your club was trafficking drugs and other illegal substances.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up paper. “We have a search warrant for the entire premises, inside and out, including personal and business vehicles parked within this lot.”

Jim took the paper he offered and skimmed it. He’d seen enough of these to know it was legit, and he prayed none of his boys had packed away the kind of treat he shied away from in any of their bikes. He nodded, handing the paper to Ari to check out. “Go ahead, gentlemen. Let me know if anyone is uncooperative or if you need my assistance with anything.”

The two men gave him a suspicious stare and exchanged glances, and then Agent Schertz gave a short nod as the two of them strode in sync toward the building. The rest of the suits followed, and Boxer moved in behind Jim. “What’s going on?”

Jim leaned back and said, “I’d be willing to bet the Devils had a hand in this. Thought they’d take us down the cheap way, staying out of the picture and claiming we had shit here that would get us charged.” He shook his head and scoffed. “The storage building is locked up tight, right?”

“Yes, sir, and none of the keys are here,” Boxer assured him. “They’re with Willie, Digger, and at your house.”

Jim nodded. “Perfect. Then, we’ll just sit back and watch the show.”

Inside, Jim was raging. This was a low blow, even for the Diablos Blancos, and it wouldn’t be a stretch of imagination for the feebs to start looking at the individual properties held by each member of the club. They’d have to move everything on hand quietly, with eyes watching, and that pissed Jim off. When it came down to survival, he took matters seriously, and this time around, he had other people to think about. He wasn’t about to let the Diablos take him down now. Protecting his tribe and his family were the only things he would kill for—and that meant his brothers, as well as Susan and her father.

Lighting another cigarette, he leaned on his bike and waited, knowing that the agents were going to be frustrated at their waste of time as they left empty-handed. Then, he and his boys would have a good laugh before they sat down to discuss the business of retaliation.

CHAPTER NINE

Susan sat outside her parents’ house, staring at the bright light still on in the main room. She knew her mother was in there since she saw her shadow moving now and then. After a slow night at work, she felt anxious and restless, and with her earlier confrontation, she wanted to clear the air, even if it meant a family feud.

Climbing out of her car, she traipsed purposely up the walkway, knowing she had to tell the rest of her family that her father was going to be moved tomorrow. She didn’t care what they thought. After all, she was the only one who ever visited or did anything for him. Technically, they’d given up the right to opinions and decision making.

However, most of all, she wanted them—mainly her mother, but also her sister—to feel the bitterness of guilt because they abandoned her father. She didn’t bother to knock, using the key she’d taken from her father’s ring to open the door. She moved toward the alarm—though it wasn’t even set—and she rolled her eyes at her mother’s careless oversight.

The woman came teetering around the corner, still wearing heels and looking paranoid. When she saw Susan, a hand fluttered to her chest, and she closed her eyes in relief. Then, she turned an angry gaze on Susan. “What the hell are you doing? Trying to scare me into an early grave?”

“No, Mom, but I do need to talk to you. Is Emma here?” She wasn’t feeling patient, as she walked right past her mother and into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of day old coffee, and popped it in the microwave.

“She’s already in bed. Do you know what time it is?” her mother admonished.

“Yes, I do. In fact, I just got off work about fifteen minutes ago.” She waited for the microwave to finish and sipped at the steaming, bitter liquid. “Have a seat, Mom. This could take a few minutes. Since I don’t want to repeat myself, I can either wake Emma, or you can pass this information on to her whenever you feel like it.”

“Emma’s awake,” her sister said in her snotty voice, as she entered the kitchen, wrapped in a plush robe with a sleep mask pushed up on her head. “Is there a reason you’re here? Did you come to cry to us about your criminal boyfriend?”

“No, actually, I didn’t, especially since he’s not a criminal; but, I’m glad you’re awake. Sit with us a minute.” Susan let her sister’s insults roll off her in a way she’d never been able to in the past. She slid into a chair facing her mother and didn’t miss how Emma drug the chair between them to their mother’s side, as far away from Susan as she could get. Her sister was such a child.

“What is so important you have to come here at all hours of the night and disturb our routine?” her mother snapped.

Susan raised an eyebrow. “Your routine? You mean the one where you sit up for hours, watching trash television while Emma sleeps away her painful marriage? I have a routine, too, you know. I get up, I go to school, I study, and I work. Plus, in between there, I’ve been going to see Dad in the hospital, something I barely have time to do and still manage to fit in. Since the two of you don’t have jobs or school, what’s your excuse for not seeing him?”

“Oh, honey, I can’t watch him waste away like that,” her mother whined, fanning herself as if she was trying to hold back tears. “It’s too painful to see.”

“Yes, it’s very painful, and the only thing that really eases his pain anymore is the love of his family. But I forgot, it’s all about you.” Susan couldn’t believe she was taking this tone with her mother, but she was tired of listening to the neurotic whimper of a self-absorbed head case.

“Mom’s been having issues, and you know that,” Emma defended, putting an arm around the older woman’s chair.

“Okay, let’s say I buy that. What about you? Why haven’t you been visiting Dad?”

Emma’s face screwed up in disgust. “What makes you so self-righteous? What gives you the right to come in here and berate us for the way we handle things? Like you’re so much better! Acting out, spending time with that filth.”

“That ‘filth’ is the man who’s going to help me make sure that Dad’s last days are comfortable, which is more than I can say for the two of you. Because you two can’t be bothered with a few minutes a day to get off your lazy asses and give Dad a little loving care, he’s got bedsores, hasn’t eaten, and is parched. But that’s going to change because that ‘filth’ has helped me arrange for private care until Dad passes.”

Emma slapped both her palms on the table. “What gives you the right to make decisions without consulting us?”

Susan mimicked her sister, standing and leaning on her palms, as she loomed over the two weak women she was ashamed to call her family. “What gives me the right is that I’m his daughter and apparently the only one who doesn’t want to see him suffer. You two are so busy worrying about watching him hurt that you don’t care if he does or not, as long as you’re not witness to it. I’m not going to stand for it.”

She stood up straight and crossed her arms. “I’ve been the one on the outside of the family for a long time, and maybe I asked to be shunned, but now, I’m going to make up for my own mistakes, and the two of you can live your sad excuses for lives. Tomorrow morning, Dad’s being moved from the hospital to a place where he can be comfortable, and there will be a full-time nurse caring for him. Not that the two of you will bother, but if you want to see him, you’ll have to go through Jim or me—since we’re the only ones with keys. Once he’s gone, I’m done with the two of you. I can’t afford to put the effort into relationships with people who don’t give me anything in return.”

“How are you paying for that?” her mother demanded. “Are you using up his insurance or retirement fund?”

Susan stared at her, incredulous. “Is that all you can think about? The money? For your information, Mom, I haven’t touched a penny out of anyone’s pocket but my own. Don’t worry where the money comes from. I’m not using up your precious funds that are going to make you so happy when your husband finally bites the dust.”

Emma stood, fisting her hands at her sides. “How dare you talk to her like that? At least she loved Daddy. You never cared! You were ashamed of him.”

“And I made my peace!” Susan flung back. More quietly, she hissed, “And I’m not the one who killed him. I’m not the one who fed him liquor when he was already sick. But, I sure as hell am going to be the one who’s there when he takes his last breath because I owe him that.” She moved forward, stopping inches from her sister’s face, and she reveled in the way Emma cowered beneath her stare. “If you have any sense at all, you’ll leave your lying, cheating husband before it’s too late, get an education, and do something for yourself. Don’t follow the example of a woman who can barely tie her own shoelaces, and don’t waste time on things you’ll regret.” She turned to her mother. “As for you, I’d like to think there’s hope left, but I’d be kidding myself. If you really love Dad, you’ll at least find five minutes to say goodbye. And don’t put it off because he doesn’t have that much time left.” She moved around Emma, calling over her shoulder, “You know how to reach me. I’ll text you Jim’s number tomorrow in case I’m at work, or you just don’t care to see me.”

Feeling a sense of accomplishment and freedom from her own neglect, Susan got in her car and stared at her phone. She needed Jim right now. She checked the time, deciding it wasn’t quite too late, and dialed his number. “Hello?” he answered through a yawn.

“Did I wake you up?” she asked, disappointed.

“No, I’m just suffering from the sins of my recent past and feeling a little less awake than usual. It’s nothing a cup or seven of coffee wouldn’t fix. What’s going on?”

She hesitated. “Are you home?”

“I am. You want to come over? I’ve got brownies, too.”

She moaned. “Chocolate anything would be phenomenal right now.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he told her, “Come on, then. Just don’t judge the state of the house or my state of dress. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Susan wasn’t worried about it. If she got her way, he wouldn’t be dressed at all for very long.