The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club (34 page)

Instead of being at that meeting, Faith was in a hospital room at her husband’s side. Bear was the star of the show, and all the kids eager to see war didn’t even know him. Raven shook her head. She hated to be one of those people, but none of these new recruits would ever know the “golden years” of the Rising Sons.

Her mind drifted to the operation that night. Her heart raced at the thought of being face to face with Allan. In her mind, he had gone from a regular hookup to a nightmare.

When they’d first started sleeping together, the attraction was clear to both of them. Raven wanted to play out her fantasy of authority figures, and Allan wanted that strong, independent woman with tattoos. To him, she was a wild child. To her, he had a pair of handcuffs and knew how to use them.

Maybe it shouldn’t have ever come to owing anyone favors,
she wondered. She told herself it didn’t matter.
What’s done is done.

Yelling snapped her out of her head and back into the meeting.

“You’re damn right!” Gunner called out. She’d missed what had caused the cheers, but she knew he was just stoking the fires inside of them all. He needed to crush any fears they had. She looked around, wondering how many men would ride back from Vegas, and how many would be left to the desert.

As the bikers all poured out, Trask grabbed Raven and pulled her to one side of the room. “How you feelin’?”

“Could be better.” She was honest. There were one hundred other things Raven would have preferred.

Trask nodded. “I get it, trust me. I’d rather shoot a gun than have to shoot my mouth.” Raven smiled, but Trask knew she was scared. “Look, I heard everything they said. The cops. They’re all talk. You’re in no danger, and you’ll have plenty of backup.”

As he spoke, two of the new prospective members came tumbling out the door. Raven spun around at the sound of two men fighting. As they scrambled back onto their feet, one man grabbed the other and shoved him back, putting a sizable dent into the drywall.

Trask screamed at them, “Hey, what the fuck do you goddamn assholes thing you’re doing? This is the fuckin’ house of the Lord. Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”

He grabbed each man by the collar and yanked them apart. Gunner was the next man out the door. He pulled one of them away and shoved him against the doorframe, his arm across the man’s throat.

Raven’s man stared down at the recruit. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?”

The man’s face was bright red. “That pussy was talkin’ shit, so I had to put him in his pla—”

Gunner cut the man off by jamming his arm against his windpipe. “That
pussy
is now your brother in life and in death. I sure as shit hope you aren’t standing next to me when bullets are firing. God forbid I say the wrong thing. What, are you on the fuckin’ rag? Grow up. There’s no place for boys here. Only men. You got that?”

The man couldn’t speak. Gunner’s voice had silenced him, and he only nodded. Raven’s heart raced, and it wasn’t because of fear. Seeing her man completely shut down the fight was incredible. She saw the raw power and command that he had. She cursed the fact that she was about to head to the charred remains of Los Bandoleros when she wanted nothing more than to grab Gunner and jump his bones.

Once the two bikers had cooled down and headed down the hallway, Gunner turned to Raven, smiling when he saw her face. “Don’t give me that look.” He knew exactly what she was thinking.

Trask stood outside his pickup as Raven and Gunner walked toward him. The two lovers embraced and then parted ways.

“Ready?” Trask asked as he pulled open his side of the truck.

Raven nodded and did the same. There was a heavy vest sitting on the passenger seat, and a microphone and recorder on top. She expected the recorder, but not the vest. She picked it up. “Kevlar?”

Trask nodded as he slid behind the wheel. “You never know. It’s better than nothing, right?”

Raven knew he was right, but it didn’t help assuage her fears. It was clear to her that even if Allan was acting on his own, it wouldn’t be long before the Bakersfield police department would come down hard on the Rising Sons. This was their chance to dam the leak.

Raven turned her back to Trask and pulled her cut and t-shirt off. She hooked the recorder pack to the front of her bra, clipping it between her breasts. The microphone was tiny, and it sat clipped to her bra strap nearly invisible. The vest weighed her down, but it served as protection and covered up the bug. Once she had the Velcro straps snug against her body, she had to admit that she did feel more secure. With the shirt back on, she knew there was no concealing the vest, but it didn’t matter.

She pulled herself into the truck, and they pulled out of the church parking lot. “Hoser is dropping off three guys before heading to the hospital. They’re gonna be inside the bar, hidden in case shit hits the fan. Gunner and five other Sons will be waiting. Three to the north and three to the south one mile away. Within a minute, the place will be crawling with bikers.”

“Do you know what he’s gonna say? Is he going to demand the money then and there?” Raven’s focus sharpened, and the fear turned into strength. It brought up important questions and made her think through all the what-ifs.

Trask nodded, “He’s probably gonna demand it, yeah. Obviously you’ll tell him to take a hike. His next move? He’ll tell you to get on the phone, and he’s gonna want to hold you as collateral.”

“At that point, I walk away, telling him I’ve got him on record with enough crimes to put him away?”

“That’s the idea. We’ll be locked on that frequency on our scanner apps. If things get tense, we’ll get you out.”

Raven nodded. She didn’t have anything else to say. Rolling the window down, she put her hand out and surfed it against the wind. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. They were only five minutes from the bar, and a half hour from the meeting. Somehow, she managed to keep her heart at a normal pace.

Faith filled the small trash can in the hospital room. Tissues, granola wrappers, and fast food remnants littered the room. Knowing it was probably pointless, she tried her best not to disturb Bear. She believed that he could still hear, and she wanted him to focus all his attention on healing.

After a week, the doctor had proclaimed Bear “out of the danger zone,” but didn’t say anything about the coma. Faith had printed out article after article, none of which gave her any comfort. It could be any second, it could be ten years. It could never happen.

She walked out of the room, nodding to the bikers on either side providing a constant vigil of safety and hope. Boss and Hoser had taken the overnight shift.
One old and one new,
Faith thought with a tired smile.

“Hi, Cheryl. How are you?” Faith had grown to know the nurses well. They were kind women, and she had so much appreciation for them. Not only because they took good care of her husband, but because there was no judgment from them. The biker lifestyle was looked down on by so many, but the nurses treated her like everyone else, which was all Faith wanted.

“I’m good, thanks, Faith. What about you? Do you need anything?” Cheryl looked up from her computer screen. It had been a quiet night, and even her second cup of coffee wasn’t doing the trick. She was eager for an opportunity to stretch her legs.

Faith shook her head and gave a polite smile. “You do plenty for me. I can manage.”

She threw the trash bag away and fetched a replacement bag for the small can. After a week, she had the closets down. Blankets, pillows, and cleaning supplies were all within her grasp.

On the way back, she stopped at a rehab station and grabbed a cup of black coffee. It was hours old, but it didn’t matter. She walked down the sterile hallway and stopped outside room 1041. She tapped her flat against Boss’s black and weathered boot. His eyes opened with reluctance, but smiled at the woman standing over him.

She handed him the Styrofoam cup.

“Oh, God. You are a lifesaver, Faith.” Boss took the coffee, blowing the steam off the top.

“It’s the least I can do, really. The Sons have kept me sane through this whole ordeal.” She laid a hand on Boss’s shoulder. They were old friends, and she was glad that she had each and every one. Clyde’s death was a hard blow to both of them. She felt like she was going numb from the top down. Everything was crumbling around them with no end in sight.

Back in the room, she pulled the sheets up and covered Bear’s chest. The hospital tended to get a little colder at night. She took her seat beside her husband and took his hand. She had fallen back into her old ways; she said a prayer.

In less than ten minutes, she was asleep, her hand still in Bear’s.

Faith woke with a start. The lights in the hallway were out. Thinking that wouldn’t have been enough to wake her, she assumed that a fuse had blown and she just missed the noise. Her first reaction was to check the machines keeping her husband alive. Everything was working. Nothing was out of the ordinary. She stood and headed for the hallway.

Darkness painted the floor and wall, but lights were still on to her left and right. She rubbed her eyes and stepped past the doorway. Cheryl wasn’t at her station. Boss and Hoser’s chairs were vacant. She guessed that the three of them were investigating the lights.

“Boss?” Her voice seemed to carry in the silence of the hallway. She looked around, but she couldn’t see a soul.

She walked to the nurse’s station. Cheryl’s chair was empty and her cardigan had fallen to the floor. The realization that she was alone hit Faith.

Her mind screamed that something was wrong. She turned back toward the room. The safety of the lights called to her. She would close and lock the door. She would call Trask right away.

As she stepped back into room 1041, a hand came from nowhere and covered her mouth. She tried to scream, but it was just a muffled moan. She was pulled into the darkness, away from her husband; away from safety.

Faith thrust an elbow backward and connected. The hand released, and she tried to sprint forward and away from the attacker. A foot caught hers and she fell to the floor. Landing hard on her palms, Faith kicked backward, looking for purchase on the linoleum floor. Her flats were slipping. She got a foot planted and was about to stand when she was grabbed around the ankle.