Old Ghosts: Gypsy Riders MC (17 page)

Her moans had become my favorite song, and they urged me on, eagerly coaxing me, guiding me to the secret pleasure spots I had searched for all night.  The slow shaking that started in her beautiful shoulders and traveled to her flailing hips, the rhythmic tightening around me, the increasing slickness as I slid into her over and over - these were my rewards.  Daisy was my treasure.

Afterwards, I fought my way back to Earth, the need to focus coming sharply into my consciousness as the sun rose.  Everything in this room was precious, pure, nothing but insane beauty.  But everything outside of this room?  

That was another story.  The world was filled with danger, and there was a whole lot of shit out there that wasn’t anywhere close to beautiful.  My mission now was taking care of the beautiful things, and making sure the ugly didn’t touch them.

Business.

I had business to take care of today.  And I hated that it was going to take me away from Daisy.  It was terrible timing, but I would find a way to deal with it all.  I always had, and I always would.  There was no way I was going to let anyone lay a hand on her.  If this Todd guy thought he was prepared to handle me, and the mayhem my club could unleash on him, then he was dead wrong.  

Before I left her place, I made sure to double check the locks on her doors and windows.  

“You sure you know how to use that gun?”  I asked her.

“I sure do.  I spent summers in the woods.  We shot everything.  Cans.  Trees.  Targets,”  she replied, smiling at me. She was so pretty, and had quickly become so important to me, that it was hell leaving her alone.  Especially knowing that asshole was out there. 

I was banking on the fact that he hadn’t actually shown his face yet.  I needed one more night to take care of this job for Sullivan, and then I could have Daisy by my side all the time.  The prick wouldn’t get near her, not if I could help it.  I was looking forward to when he did show up, so that I could have the pleasure of kicking his ass.

“Okay, so listen.  I have to work late tonight, really late.  I’ll call you before I go to check in, and I’ll call you after.  But if you need anything at all, just call me.  If I can’t be here, I’ll send one of the brothers.”

“Where will Rosie be tonight?” she asked.

“Reaper will pick her up from school, and he’ll take her back to the clubhouse to hang out with some of the girls there.  She likes to spend her Friday nights at the clubhouse with lil’ Mike,” I said.

She laughed and my heart swelled, she was just so fucking adorable.  

I kissed her lips, the act quickly becoming my second favorite thing to do.  When she wrapped her arms around me, my cock stirred, reminding me of what was number one on that list.

I groaned against her, my hands encircling her waist, and  pushing her away from me.

“Baby, I could stay in bed with you all day…”  I shook my head as I looked at her.  Her jeans hugged her curves perfectly and I wanted to run my hands over them and slide them off her and taste her all day long. 

“I have to get to class!”  She reached up, gave me another quick kiss and we locked up and left the apartment together.  She left in her truck and I waved as she drove away.  I scanned the area, looking at all the cars in the parking lot, and saw no sign of the black sedan from last night.

If Todd was around, he was doing a really good job of hiding.

****

Later that afternoon, I was in my office with Reaper when I got a call from Demon.

“Boss, I have some information I think you’ll be interested in.”

“What’s that?” I replied, hoping it was something I could use to get me out of the situation with Kelly.

“The cop.  She’s fucking the district attorney, Jeffrey Williams.  They’re both married.  Her husband’s name is Shawn Jones, he’s a defense attorney.  Lots of conflict of interest going on, at the very least.  She’s met Williams at a different hotel the last two days, each time at exactly three in the afternoon.  They stay for an hour and a half, drink vodka, and fuck - loudly.  Then they both go back home to fuck their spouses.”

What a fucking evil, horny bitch, I thought.  Kelly Jones was playing everyone and getting her rocks off at the same time.  

“Bring me pictures.”

“Already got ‘em, boss,” he replied.

“Perfect.  Bring them to me now.  The job is over.  I need you to ride with us tonight for the Sullivan job.”

“On my way, boss,” he said, hanging up the phone.

I smirked to myself, thankful that I never had to see Kelly Jones naked again.

****

It was fifteen minutes before midnight when we drove our van up to Sullivan’s airport hanger.  Jackson Sullivan was loaded.  His family was old money, but he had made his own fortune in the oil business.

He was obsessed with airplanes, and he had a hanger full of vintage planes sitting just outside of the Bob Hope airport.  When he wasn’t using the hanger for dealing illegal guns in the middle of the night, he was walking around in a pristine white jumpsuit with a wrench in his hand and pretending the arsenal of full-time airplane mechanics weren’t doing all the work. 

We had provided protection for him once before, and I was looking forward to this job to go just as smoothly as that one.  The only wild card was the Cretins.  The president of the Cretins, Ricardo Velasquez, was a solid, even-tempered and fair man.  It was his VP I was worried about.  Carlos Cruz had a reputation of going off on someone when he perceived the slightest insulting look or word.  He was a ticking time bomb, and required the utmost respect when dealing with him. 

I was sure my boys were up to the task.  All I wanted to do was get there, do the deal, and get out.  I was itching to get back to Daisy.  Any thing that didn’t have to do with her had become a huge distraction.  I hadn’t stopped worrying about her all day.  When I called to check in on her before we headed out to the airport, she sounded happy and safe.  She said she was locked in her apartment, watching movies and baking a cake.

From the sound of her voice, you’d never know she was being threatened by her monster of an ex.  I hated leaving her alone.  But now it was time to get my head in the game.

We entered the hanger quietly, the sound of our footsteps the only sound in the large, open space.  Silhouettes of planes in various forms of repair lined the edges, with the big, empty space in the middle reserved for some tables and a few computers.  Sullivan sat alone at one of the tables, talking on his cell phone.

When he saw us, he hung up and walked over to us.  His smile was jovial and he seemed relaxed and eager to see us.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” he said, walking over to shake my hand.

“Sure, Sullivan.  No problem.  Where is everyone?” I asked.

“They’ll be here soon, Mike,” he said, gesturing us to follow him.

The roar of bikes approaching sounded outside, followed by the sound of them turning off and car doors opening and closing.  In moments, the doors opened and two men dressed in expensive suits walked in.  They were flanked by four Cretins on either side of them.  Two more Cretins were pushing a heavy crate that had been placed on a wheeled cart.

Ricardo caught my eye and nodded at me.  I looked at him first, then over at Carlos standing next to him.  He nodded at me also, his expression as serious as always.  He certainly wasn’t known for his friendliness.  I nodded back, and watched as Sullivan shook hands with his clients.  Everyone seemed relaxed and calm as Sullivan walked over to the crate and waited for one of the Cretins to open it.  When the lid opened, I saw it was filled with exactly what I suspected it would be.  Guns.  Machine guns.  Dozens of them.

I briefly wondered what Sullivan was going to do with all of them.  Obviously, he was going to sell them, but to whom?  His connections were said to be far and wide across the globe, and I cringed inside, knowing they were probably going to the people who needed them the least.

I pushed all that away.  That had nothing to do with me.  I was here to do my job, and that was it.  And tonight, my job was purely protection.  

With one eye on the Cretins and on eye on Sullivan, I didn’t think to glance over at my brothers.  I had complete confidence in them, and checking up on them was the last thing on my mind.

“Everything looks good here,” Sullivan said.  “Thank you, gentlemen.”

He walked over to the table, retrieving a duffel bag that was lying on top of it.  One of the men followed him, unzipped the bag, and smiled after he peered inside.

“Very well then.  We’re done here,” he said, nodding to his colleague.

I nodded with satisfaction, and watched as Sullivan’s clients began walking towards the door.

When the first shots rang out, I ducked for cover, not knowing where they were coming from.  I pulled out my gun as I looked around frantically.  My brothers had followed suit, ducking behind pillars and tables in the darkness and beginning to shoot back.  The Cretins had started shooting instead of walking away, and I watched as Sullivan’s clients bravely ran in the middle of the gunfire to grab the bag of cash back and begin running along the side and out the door.  Sullivan lay in a puddle of blood near the table, unmoving.

The crossfire seemed to go on forever, with no clear target or reasoning.  I assumed the Cretins were protecting Sullivan’s clients and continued shooting, keeping us back, until the two men had made it to the back door with both the crate of guns and their cash.  Bullets flew across the room, both the Gypsies and the Cretins reloading and relentlessly trying to take each other down.

I wasn’t worried, not at first.  I had complete faith in my brothers’ ability to handle a situation like this.  But then I heard Reaper cry out, followed by the loud thump of his body hitting the concrete floor, and I rushed over to him. I pulled his body into the shadows, behind some large crates, the bullets still flying and ricocheting off the steel beams and pillars of the hanger.

Reaper had been hit in his chest, and I quickly pressed my hands against the wound.  His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing.  But he was losing a lot of blood, and I knew if I didn’t get him some help soon, I was going to lose him.  This shit had to end, and it had to end now.  

“Hang in there, Reap, I’m going to get you some help. You’re going to be okay, buddy.”  I didn’t know if he could hear me or not, but I said the words for my sake as well as his.

Sandman dashed over to us, his eyes full of worry when he saw Reaper lying there.  My blood boiled with anger at the absurdity of this situation.  It was supposed to be a simple drop, and now it was a fucking war zone.  

“Give me your gun,” I said to Sandman, taking it from him and grabbing Reaper’s too.  With my own, that made three, and I planned to end this bullshit right now.

I put one of the guns in the waistband of my jeans, and came around the crate shooting the other two in the direction of the Cretins.  My brothers had already taken down two of their men, and that left four for me to destroy.  I pushed my worry about Reaper to the back of my mind, and throwing all caution to the wind, I snuck around the side of the hanger, approaching Ricardo and his three men from behind.  They were spaced out, not in each other’s sight, which played to my advantage.  I silently snuck up behind each of them, and one by one, I silently shot each of them in the back, saving Ricardo for last, until the hanger fell completely silent, and I stood over Ricardo’s quivering body as he stared up at me, blood pouring from his mouth.  

“It didn’t have to be this way, Ricardo,” I said, before I pulled the trigger one last time, ending his misery quickly.

Time seemed to stand still, my heart heavy with what had just happened, and when I heard Sandman’s voice urging Reaper to wake up, I snapped out of my thoughts and ran to Reaper’s side.  

“Demon, call Sam and tell her to meet us at the clubhouse immediately!” I commanded. Sam was our club doctor. She was one of the best surgeons in the city and we paid her immensely to help with situations just like this. Going to the hospital wasn’t an option.  Demon pulled out his phone and quickly ran outside to make the call.  

“Sandman, let’s get him in the van now!”  With the help of two other brothers, we managed to carefully lift Reaper and carry him outside to the van Demon had opened up. 

“She’s on her way, boss.  Said she’ll be there in five minutes,” he said.

“Drive fast, Demon,” I said, as we all piled in around Reaper and closed the sliding door of the van.  “He’s bleeding out.”

I grabbed Reaper’s hand, and Sandman continued his efforts to stop the bleeding.  I looked down at my best friend,  his cut covered in blood, his face pale, his life hanging by a thread, and fear filled my heart.