The Possibility of Trey (18 page)

"You have got to be shitting me!"

"One dealer decided to stand his ground and pulled a knife on one of the recruits. He is now in room number one at the compound. I am uncertain how you wish to proceed," Trey's fellow brother and new friend's voice wound down.

"Escalation. Someone's not getting the fucking message or has decided to goddamn well ignore the Hellion warning." Trey ran a hand through his hair as he thought quickly. "I'll take the asshole in room number one. In the meantime, I want all asses on bikes. Then have the brothers call the police department and hold the players in place until they arrive."

"It will be a busy night for the town's jail," Brand replied with a grin.

"For all of us, amigo," Trey agreed, turning to go back into the house to finish dressing and say goodbye to his girl.

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I blinked my way into consciousness, not immediately recognizing where I was until my brain caught up with what my nose was inhaling, sunk as it was into a fluffy pillow.

Trey.

I was in Trey's bed and at that thought the memories of what we'd done the night before filled my brain and caused a reaction both inside and outside of me. I lifted my head to scan the acre of bed but he wasn't there. I reached out a hand, feeling the sheets. He'd been gone long enough for them to become cold.

There was a scrap of paper, folded in half and propped on the nightstand on the side of the bed he'd been on.

'
Tex
,' it read.
'Had to leave on HMC business. Help yourself to a shower and breakfast. I'll catch up to you later. You will be missed.
' It was signed with a rendering of the three of spades playing card.

Not quite a love letter but really freaking close in my opinion.

I did as he'd instructed, bowled over by the big-assed fancy shower with its multiple heads, steam bar and a control panel which appeared more complicated than it actually turned out to be.

After my shower, I checked in with my folks. They both sounded chipper although my mom's voice was still weak and she passed the phone off to my dad quicker than I wanted. Assuring them I'd be at the hospital later, I rummaged through Trey's refrigerator, deciding an apple and peanut butter toast was perfect as my morning after breakfast.

The morning after the most amazing night of my life.

I was back to feeling liquid, almost fluid as I ate my breakfast and then straightened the bedroom. And as I allowed myself to wallow in the remembered images of what Trey and I had done the night before. I still didn't understand how he'd known just the right things to do at the most perfect times and to which parts of my body. Instinct or years and years of practice?

Does it really matter in the long run?
, my mind asked.

Bite me
, my heart replied.

I made sure to lock up behind me as I left his house. I saw a pair of motorcycles drive slowly pass as I started my truck and waited for the engine to warm, the riders eyes pointed towards me. Their presence brought Trey back to front and center in my mind. And my body causing a warmth inside that didn't dissipate throughout my shopping foray to get three small overnight bags. The use of the plastic sacks was starting to annoy me, smacking of a hopelessness I no longer felt.

But as I went back to the family home, to fill two of the new cases, I saw an unfamiliar truck on my street and could see from my vantage point at the corner, that the back door by the kitchen was open.

Without even a second thought, I reached for my phone.

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.*

Silo's phone rang and he excused himself from the festivities in room number one to take the call even though the screen showed it was an unknown caller.

"Yeah?" He drawled in his deepest voice, his eyes narrowing as he waited.

"M-Mr. Kettering? It's Dallas. Dallas Sheridan. I tried calling Trey's, I mean, Mr. Jackson's number b-but it keeps going to voicemail and I'm at m-my house and I t-think there's s-someone inside it a-and…"

"Hold on! Hold on!" He pulled his phone from his ear and yelled for Trey. "It's your girl. Someone's in her house. Says your phone keeps going to voicemail."

Trey grabbed the phone from the tall man's hands. "Dallas? What's doing?"

Silo watched as Trey's already stern face went to granite as he listened. "Okay. I want you to go to the hospital. No, no. We'll get your dad's clean stuff later. Stay with me, honey, okay? Get to the hospital and I'll take it from here. I either call or come by your mom's room later. That gonna work for you? Good. Hang tough, Tex."

"Who've we fucking got in the area of Burton and Defoe?" Trey ground out after disconnecting the call and handing the phone back.

"Bishop who I think is with Chucky," Silo replied thinking fast. "Actually they're the only ones still out at the moment."

"Get them there AS-fucking-AP," Trey's voice growled. "And get someone back inside room one to clean the motherfucker up before we start round two."

"Round two? You think he has more to say?" Silo had been sure the squirrely little dealer had given all he'd known when he gave up Fat Jack as the big boss.

"I don't think that piece of weasel-faced shit has a direct link to Fat Jack. I want the fucking name of that link and whoever else is in line all the way up their fucked-up chain of command."

The two men exchanged a glance before Trey barked, "don't see your fucking fingers on your phone, Si. Get to it, now!"

And Silo wasted no time in following his Prez's directives.

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"Here's how we'll do it, meat." Bishop never bothered to learn the recruit's names until they actually earned their patch and became a bona-fide member of the club. It wasn't out of disrespect since most of the recruits were good, trustworthy men. Maybe it was because Bishop was edging closer to forty and unwilling to waste any more brain cells on learning names that may or may not come to mean dick to him. "We're just going to do a little recon to figure out what's doing. Then, if need be, we'll make our play. You packing?"

"My knife and a Bersa .380 Thunder in a holder, right front pocket," came the reply.

"Damn. Ex-military, meat?"

"Something like that." Which was said with a Cheshire grin.

"Then let's dance," Bishop announced with his own anticipatory smile.

With their rides out of sight and around the corner, the men's long strides ate up the sidewalk before they cut across the neighbor's lawn to angle their way to Sheridan's house. Bishop's eyes moved over the other houses on the street, finding it strange that no one and nothing was stirring in the lower middle-class development. No one was washing their car, mowing their grass and no kids were in evidence in spite of the beautiful weather.

"I don't like it," he mumbled under his breath as he positioned himself on one side of the back door and watched while the recruit took the other side. He could hear noises coming from the back of the house and he edged an eye around the door frame for a quick glimpse. The kitchen had been thoroughly and systematically trashed, every drawer withdrawn and emptied along with the cupboards. He could only envision what the rest of the rooms looked like.

Bishop gave the military signal for 'hold your position' as he moved a few yards away and called Trey to advise him of the situation. After receiving his orders, he placed another call before going back to bracket the doorway. "We're to hold whoever's in there until MPD arrive," he whispered to the recruit. At the eyebrow raised in response, Bishop couldn't deny that Trey's command seemed to come out of left field. Under the club's old regime, they would've barreled into the scene to instantaneously get the drop on the asshole who was fucking with private property.

"You got your cc?" Bishop thought to ask, speaking soft even though he didn't think his regular voice would've been heard over the ruckus coming from inside the house. It wouldn't do to have the police bust one of the Hellion's own for not having a permit to carry a concealed weapon.

The other man gave him a head nod before muttering, "Utah."

Both their heads turned as they heard the siren, then the lack of noise as the officers came in silent. Waving an arm from around the side of the house, Bishop caught the eye of MPD's finest indicating his position.

In less than ten minutes, the two destructive dipshits were in the back of the patrol car and Bishop was back on the phone with Trey.

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.*

The morning's fluidity had changed to electricity as I sat in my mom's room waiting for Trey's call. I know my jittering and lack of participation in the conversation was noticed when my dad finally grumbled, "everything okay with you, girl?"

"Yeah, dad. Just had too much coffee." Which was an out and out lie since I hadn't had any coffee and which probably accounted for the headache that was building behind my eyes. "Think I'm going to make a lunch run. Any requests?"

"Your mom's got tests and can't have nothing but liquid. But I've got a hankering for a meatball sub." It wasn't but a week or so ago, my mom used to answer for the both of them in the category of food but times had changed with our circumstances.

I saw my hands were shaking as I pushed myself out of my chair to kiss my parents goodbye and do what I said I was going to do. Make a simple lunch run while I waited for Trey to either call or come by.

The first part I was comfortable with. The second portion was harder than hell.

"All right!" Trey banged the gavel on the table three times before all the voices in the large room quieted. "I'll go over it again one more time though I shouldn't have to."

He cast his eyes over the sea of faces, some set in lines of a 'prove it' challenge and other's stuck in the 'da fuck?' position. Only a handful remained steady and unconcerned.

"For a long time, the Hellions have been a major problem for our local police or county sheriff's department. In fact, it wouldn't be a stretch to say we were enemies. When I took the gavel, I vowed there would be changes to the club. This is one of those changes. But involving them in matters we'd normally see to ourselves doesn't reduce us to 'pussies' as Snake so eloquently named it. No. It lets the law in the area know that we're fucking willing to let them in when illegal shit goes down. It doesn't prevent us from handling whatever fucked-up trouble comes our way, in true Hellion fashion. But by having Johnny Law on our side, instead of against us, we just increased our motherfucking power base exponentially. You get me?"

"So we're not gonna fuckin' puss out when shit goes down?"

"Or have other motherfuckers knowing us as 'cop's bitches' when we call Daddy to take care of what we can handle ourselves?"

"Fuck, no!" Trey's immediate reply rang throughout the room, quickly silencing the side conversations that had sprung up. "How often have we taken things in our own hands and had brothers sent away for a nickel or dime due to Hellion justice over shit the legal system could've fucking resolved? How much green has the club used for legal fees, fines and payoffs? How many families is the club supporting as their sole goddamn breadwinner sits on his ass or gets a beat-down in a place where no brother has his back? And how long does it take before a released brother has his fucking head on straight enough after he's been popped to even begin to take his rightful place among us?"

He let his eyes do another roam around the quiet room.

Some faces had transformed and he knew those were the ones that were starting to get what he was saying.

"We're still the Hellions and we still rule our field. But we will involve the law when and if the occasion warrants to fucking prevent anyone of us from taking a goddamn fall over some piddley-assed shit."

Trey let his voice go quieter but allowed its steel to show.

"I'm fucking done seeing the damn members of this club getting sent away or even killed due to fucking shit decisions based on proving they're the biggest badass, who's dick is bigger or because of some other sense of fucked-up pride. I'm asking, as we learn this new role, that each of you call either myself or the other council members when a situation arises to determine the best fuckin way to handle it."

"You want us to hand you our balls, too?" Came a voice from the bar, who Trey easily identified as Huff. Trust the large blonde to break the tension.

"Only those that have 'em," Trey shot back with a quirked grin. "Nah. Truthfully, I think this kind of play will not only strengthen the club and get shit off our streets but will also show Missoula the Hellions are a part of the bigger community. A part that plans on adding value to it the way we know how." He gave them a moment, letting each member think about what he'd said. "Questions?"

"What's to say this new fucking way won't give other clubs the idea the Hellions are ripe for takeover?" Jay's question was valid but Trey was uncertain how best to answer it. Luckily, Bishop didn't hesitate to respond.

"There are crazy motherfuckers all over the place, dude. Even the Hellions can't control another asshole's mind. At least, not fucking yet." Which sent the packed room into spasms of chortles of agreement. "Seriously, though. There are always going to be dicks that want Hellion cred, property and alliances. When they work up enough spunk, they'll try their hand. Gets bad enough and we'll just disavow them of that notion old school style, mano e mano. But, dig it, boys. We've entered the dawn of a new age for HMC. One that both affects and protects us all."