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Every bit of paperwork looked like the last. Saks’ eyes had long since glazed over, even if he was grateful to be a bit closer to the action. “Come on, Luke,” he begged, “just let me help a little. These business accounts are killer.”
“No,” Luke said from the garage.
“But—”
“No buts. You can' t be in the garage until the doctor clears you.”
“Fuck,” Saks muttered. He liked his job, but he never thought he’d be the one to envy the guys who were working on the bikes. Now he knew that nothing was more boring than sitting in front of a computer all day. At least Luke kept him on the payroll, though, and his working in the shop was more to curb his boredom with his injury than to do actual work. It was only due to Luke’s insistence that he be cleared for light duty that he was able to do it at all. At least it gave him the opportunity to learn the operational aspects of the business and give him a reason to get out of bed.
Mail scattered onto the floor from the door’s mail slot. Saks pushed out of the chair and went to gather them all up. Several of them were from the State Department.
“Yo, Luke. Looks like they’re here.”
Luke walked into the office, wiping grease off his hands with a shop rag.
“What’s here?” he said.
“The passports. For the road trip to Canada.”
“That’s good. Put Emily’s and mine on the desk and I’ll pick them up before I leave.”
Saks opened his and groaned. Because it was taken a week after he got out of the hospital, his face was ashen and drawn. He’d been in pain and looked like it.
“Let me see,” Luke said with a grin. He reached in to take the passport.
“No,” Saks said, jerking the document back, and then moaned when he wrenched his shoulder.
“That’s what you get when you try to aggravate your boss.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working on a bike or something?”
“And aren’t you supposed to be at the physical therapist’s?”
Saks grumbled. He didn’t see much point in going. It was a twenty-minute trip for a half-hour appointment. And the therapist didn’t seem to work him hard at all. In his mind, actual work would’ve been far more productive.
“Do you need a ride? Should I call Emily and have her take you?”
The last thing he wanted was to inconvenience Emily, who was dealing with a stressful early pregnancy and an energetic toddler.
“No.”
Luke’s expression got serious, and Saks prepared for the lecture to come.
“I didn’t mind putting off Suzuki school because of your injury. But if you won't attempt to get well enough to perform all your duties, I need make other plans.” It meant he’d lose his new promotion, and the guilt of that would weigh heavily on Saks if he let it happen.
“Okay, okay. I haven’t felt energetic since...” Saks’ voice trailed off, because he didn’t want to say what he’d really been thinking: that so much more of it had to do with Chrissy than he wanted to let on.
Damn it. She’d walked away from him. Chrissy Serafini had climbed into that damn plane and flown off with that rat, James Pearson. It should’ve made him angry and filled him with fire, and it did, but it also left a hole in his gut that refused to fill.
Luke shook his head. There was understanding in his eyes, but the tone of his words wasn’t kind. “Get it together, Saks. I need you front and center, so I can take this business to the next level.”
“You’re right.”
“Of course, I am. I’m the boss. So, get out of here and make that appointment.”
“Sure, Luke. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Do you see the time?”
Saks checked the clock to see it close to three in the afternoon. “Yeah.”
“And you didn’t take lunch. Just get out of here and open tomorrow.”
“Sure,” he grumbled. He pulled his leather jacket off the pegs by the door and slid it on.
“Oh, and remember Hawk is moving in to the clubhouse this afternoon. Remember to give him the security codes.”
It had been four weeks since Hawk was admitted to the hospital. Four weeks since he’d been shot just trying to pick up some prescriptions for Saks. Somehow, he’d managed to pull through the nasty gunshot wound, and was about to released. Since the people who ordered the hit were still at large, Oakie had made a decision. Saks, and now Hawk, would live in the clubhouse, with its high gates around the property and its security system.
Around the back of the building, Saks stopped for a moment before the beater car he used in the wicked Connecticut winters. With one shoulder jammed up he couldn’t ride his bike, and the old car would have to do.
Which was another reason, he supposed, to make his physical therapy appointments.
But he just didn't want to. Not today. Nope. Because today was a Monday. The fourth Monday since Chrissy got on the damned plane.
Disgusted with himself, he drove toward town to the physical therapist’s office. He called the office on his phone.
“Hello? This Anthony Parks. My appointment is at three, but I just got out of work. Is it okay if I’m fifteen minutes late?”
“Let me check.”
Saks waited and, finally, the person who ran the appointment desk came on. “Hi, Mr. Parks?”
“Yes.”
“Sally told me what was going on, but I’m sorry. We're booked solid through the end of the day.”
“Sorry. Then tell Tom I’ll see him Friday.”
“Um, I hate to bring this up, but this is the third appointment you’ve missed. We’ll have to start charging you.”
“I understand. You’ve been very understanding so far. I’ll be there Friday.”
Relieved of his appointment, and having the rest of the afternoon off, he decided to visit the Red Bull. He hadn’t seen his cousins since the shooting, and he could use some of their wings.
Saks pulled into the parking lot, which was nearly empty at this time of day, and walked inside. The familiar sights and smells of the Red Bull relaxed him. Brightly-colored bras still hung from the rafters, and the faint smell of liquor and beer mingled sharply and permeated the air.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” his cousin John drawled. “Where the hell have you been?”
“State secret,” Saks replied. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
John drew a draft and slid it to Saks. “That’s a helluva way to get out of a bar tab.”
“I’m not trying to get out of anything. I just got cleared to drive last week.”
“Uh-huh. And your mother and father haven’t heard from you either.”
“Better that way until the police arrest those guys who put the hit on me.”
“Don’t they have the guys who did it?”
“They did. But someone bailed them out and then they rabbited.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear.”
“You and me both. But if you speak to my parents, let them know I’m okay.”
“You know your old man. He won’t listen. And your mother is beside herself.”
Saks felt like crap, but really, considering all that had happened, it was just best if he didn’t stay at the house.
“I’m the prime witness for the state. Okie was there, but with his record they don’t consider him a reliable witness. So, I’m it. And until I testify, I have to keep my head down.”
“At least you could call them.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’ll call Mom tonight.”
“Good idea,” John responded.
He spun on his stool and studied the room as he sipped his beer. It was a quiet night, with only regulars popping in for an afternoon beer before heading home. The place never had been much to look at, but it served cold beer and the food never made people sick. A sliding sound on the counter had him spinning back around to the plate of hot wings that now sat in wait.
“I didn’t order that,” Saks said.
“You didn’t. But you could use them.”
“Thanks.” He was hungry, and hadn’t contemplated dinner. A plate of wings would do the trick. As he dug in, he felt the presence of someone taking the seat beside him. Usually he wouldn’t have cared much, but something about the intrusion left him scowling as he felt a hand settle against his arm. His head whipped to the side, only for his expression to soften from anger to mere upset at the sight of Chrissy’s sister.
“Hey, Saks,” Gloria said. “How have you been?”
“I had better days before I met your sister.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Why are you here?”
“Can a girl get a drink around here?”
“As I remember, that’s what started the trouble the last time—you wanting a beer.” But Saks gestured to John and pointed to his beer bottle and put up two fingers.
John, with a doubtful look in his eye, set the beer bottles down in front of them.
“Want a wing?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Again, Gloria, why are you here?”
Gloria dipped the wing into the blue cheese sauce, thoughtfully. “I’m worried about Chrissy.”
“You have every right to be.”
“She’s coming home for about a week. I was wondering—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Saks, you’re the only one she’ll listen to.”
“You can’t prove that by me, Gloria. She got right on that plane despite what we tried to tell her. Besides, you say she’s coming home, so she must be all right.” Gloria set her jaw.
“Saks, you and I both know the score. People like James Pearson are bad news, even to our families.”
“So? Have your grandfather put a hit on him.”
“Don’t even talk like that,” she hissed.
“Why? Isn’t that what La Familia does? Get rid of a problem?”
“Saks, you know we don’t do stuff like that anymore.”
Saks arched his eyebrow at Gloria. She had to be kidding him. The evidence of what “they” did rested with his torn-up shoulder. A wise guy family took a contract to try to break up the nuptials—the hard way.
Funny thing was, he and Chrissy were a long way from getting to the altar.
“Yeah, right. That’s why I got a slug in my shoulder. Or why our guy Hawk got hit coming out of the pharmacy.”
Gloria bit her lip. “Look, Saks. You’re right. This is one fucked-up situation. And if Grandpa hadn’t pushed her too hard, she wouldn’t have run off.”
Saks scoffed.
“But I’m really, really worried about her. If it wasn’t for my father getting heart surgery, she wouldn’t come home at all.” Her teeth bared in anger. “She’d just keep on with that rat, Pearson. This is the perfect opportunity to convince her to give up that job and stay where she’s safe.”
Suddenly the wings Saks had been excited to eat felt like lead in his gut. “Then good luck to you, because you’ll need it.”
“Saks,” she begged, “please, I just—”
“I’m going home, Gloria. If you were smart you would, too.”
