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“Come on out here, Emma. I knew you liked me pulling and sucking on your big ole hooters. Bring those fuckers out again. I want to fuck you on the roof of my car. I’ll spread you wide and tear you apart.” Mark was talking out loud, as if he thought Emma was waiting for him somewhere. Rafe thought the man was stupid if he couldn’t smell a set up like this. He’d blame it on the power of a beautiful women because this man wouldn’t have gotten this far in this type of environment if he didn’t take a minute to think about why a certain person would do a certain thing. This man was reckless and would probably end up dead if he didn’t get himself together.
This couldn’t be happening. Rafe was trying to calm himself down, and this ass-wipe had him at explosion level. “Actually, it was me who wanted to have a few words with you.” Rafe tried again to calm himself down and address the matter at hand. He knew this guy from negotiations, and he was as slimy as Rafe always thought he was. The persona he used mostly was quiet and menacing, but this guy was actually a full-fledge whack job.
“What the fuck are you doing back here, and what did you do to my Emma?” Mark’s words were slurred a bit, but he could tell the man wasn’t that far gone in his facilities.
“I didn’t do anything to her. She was just a bit distraught and wanted me to talk to you for a minute.” He talked softly and slowly, like he would a small child. Rafe could smell the fear on him and knew that this wasn’t going to go well if the man was afraid of him. A healthy dose of respect? Sure, that would work—but bullies and fear wasn’t a good combination.
“She wanted you to do what?” It was almost comical watching the wheels creak in Mark’s head, as he tried to figure out what was going on. “How does she even know you?”
“That’s not what we’re talking about right now, Mark. This conversation is about the joining between you and Emma and how she needs a bit of time to get some things in order.”
“It’s already official.” The man spat and was growing more and more agitated before his eyes. Shit, Rafe wasn’t the man people called when they wanted to diffuse a situation. He was the one doing the agitating. Working someone up in the calmest of tones was an art for him. He was good at it and he was so pissed at this guy he could rip off his head and piss down his neck, but he was trying to the best thing for Emma and do right by her with his actions.
“I get what you’re saying, because I’ve seen how you’ve gotten people to do what you want and sign the deal.” Rafe was making rookie mistakes and now knew why people warned about getting involved with women. His trademarked level head was damn near absent. He thought about what this man had done to his Emma and all he could thing about was tearing him apart piece-by-piece.
“She’s mine, Rafael. I don’t know how you know her or how you were able to see anything on her. I’ve kept close tabs on her since it was official she was mine. I don’t care what you do or say; she’s going to stay mine.” The man was going to draw a crowd with the noise he was making, and Rafe was well aware they were still on Shaffer’s property.
Rafe was thinking of how to handle this situation when Mark pulled out a gun. How had he let this little fuck wad get the jump on him like this? He was trying to be nice and this is what he got for it? He could have just popped him for what he’d done to Emma while he was yelling out obscenities in the parking lot.
“Those sweet tits, juicy pussy, and even that tight ass is mine Rafe. I know how a lot of your talks end and that’s not going to be how this ends today.” Mark didn’t seem drunk at all now. He just seemed pissed. Pissed with a gun was also not a good combination.
“I came back here to talk to you, Mark. That’s all. I don’t even have my gun on me.” Rafe was trying to be rational, but it was rare he was in this situation. If the guy thought he was just going to sit here with his hands up and ask for mercy, he was sorely mistaken.
“Bullshit. You always have your gun with you. Right in the strap on your boot.” Mark pointed with the gun, and Rafe saw the telltale signs of a wavering of his stance...maybe his last drink had just kicked in. He moved in a little, but he acted like he wasn’t worried about the gun. It was doubtful that Mark was that good of a shot; but, at this close range, he didn’t have to be very good or very lucky.
“I said I don’t have a gun today. Are you calling me a liar?” Rafe eased closer and put enough menace in his voice as to turn the tides of this situation.
“What?” Mark put down his gun for a second, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on. Rafe took the opportunity to grab the hand with the gun in it and punch the guy in the mouth. It felt so good that even the cut of the guys tooth on his knuckle was a pleasure. He hit him a few more times for good measure.
“Fuck, man. I think you broke my tooth.” The whining asshole practically screeched. He was about to kill Rafe and was upset about a few broken teeth? This guy really was a piece of work.
“Good. Keep your punk ass away from Emma.” Rafe meant what he’d said. He could see when the other man’s focus went from worrying about himself and his pearly smile to the person they were tussling over. In fact, the comment seemed to bring out the fight in Mark. Even when he was touching his mouth, the smaller man had a firm grip on the gun—and he wasn’t letting go. He was much smarter than Rafe thought he was.
They tugged, pulled, and twisted, as they both fought for the ownership of the gun until it went off and they were both still for a second. Rafe tried to concentrate to see if he felt any pain, but then he watched the light go out in Mark’s eyes, and he slumped to the ground. The power of winning and getting a chance to live another day was challenged by his second thought. What the hell did this mean for the future of Emma and his own future with the Tribesmen?
The gun was still gripped in Mark’s hand as he lie on the ground bleeding, and he looked up to see an older woman on the second floor watching him with a phone in her hand. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do until he heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance. They could be on their way anywhere, but looking at the woman in the window made him sure that they were coming here to check out this situation.
The sirens got closer and closer until there was no decision to be made. He had to turn and run before he was taken in. No one was going to believe that he was trying to protect himself from the little weasel who was dead on the ground. His name was Lucky for a reason, and he wasn’t going to sit here and try to explain himself, as that would get him who knows how much time in the penal system. He had enough things on his crime sheet to make them pull him in, regardless of whether he was innocent or not.
He slipped away and saw the police cars descend upon the parking lot in his rearview mirror. This was getting fucked up beyond all repair, and he wasn’t sure who he could turn to for help. The wind in his face helped a little, but he’d had one adrenaline rush on top of the other and his head was spinning. His feelings for Emma and his growing hatred for Mark mixed inside until he was almost sick with it.
He took out his phone and sent a text to Emma that he’d be over to pick her up in a few hours. Then, he turned his bike around to talk to the only person he felt could and would help him out—Fat J.
Rafe wasn’t a praying man, but he threw a couple of wishes up that the man would be home and available to help him out. When he turned down the dark road that lead to Fat J.’s house, he realized how much he and Fat J. had in common. They both lived off the beaten path, and they both didn’t have many people who knew where they lived. He’d been directed out to Fat’s house a few times, and the man let him know he didn’t want the information to become common knowledge. As far as Rafe knew, he was the only club member who knew how to find him, which was probably why he always got the chore of talking to him.
Wishes, prayers, or just damned lucky... at that point Rafe didn’t give two shits. He was just happy that the man was at home and there weren’t any other people there. He rode near the man's home and turned off his bike ,so he could place a call to let Fat know he was here and needed to see him. He’d always called before he showed up, but today it had just slipped his mind.
“Come on in,” Fat J. said, as soon as he picked up the phone and Rafe was thrown off just a little.
“How did you see me?”
“You think I don’t have security cameras all along my property. I knew you were coming for about ten minutes.” Fat J. didn’t even sound smug. It was just the way it was.
“So, you probably could have picked me off long before now, and here I am giving you a little warning that I’m on my way.” There wasn’t much humor about this whole situation, but knowing his friend was more like himself than he thought, it made sense that the man had security cameras on his dark-ass road. He had them on his road, as well.
“I knew you were coming, and you are always welcome in my home.”
“Thanks, Fat. I’ll be right in.” Rafe parked his bike on the side of the house that wasn’t visible from the road. Yes, he knew that they’d know if company was arriving, but Rafe would rather be safe than sorry. There were a lot of steps that lead to his friend’s front door, and he wondered if Fat had to walk these every day why he wasn’t smaller.
He reached the top of the mountain his friend called front steps and turned the handle on the door.
“Why didn’t you use the elevator?” Fat J. had a smirk on his face, and Rafe thought he was seeing things. Was this man laughing at him? This was one crazy night. Everything was so far-fetched; it was like he was in a bad dream.
“I didn’t see one.” Rafe answered, looking at the man and wondering if maybe he’d been drinking something. That might be the reason there was a slight change in his behavior.
“Really? I thought I showed you the elevator last time you were here.” The man welcomed him into his home with a dramatic wave of his arm. It was a good thing he was in shape, because those steps could kill a man or woman who wasn’t in top form physically.
When Rafe thought about it, he did remember an elevator and that showed him how befuddled his brain was. Killing a man from his rival motorcycle club had done his mind in. It wasn’t that he could say this was the first person who’d met their maker by his hand, but he was focused on the fact that even though the Reapers were their biggest rivals, there had been no blood shed between them in the last ten years. Until now. Until him. He didn’t care much for the Reapers, but he didn’t want there to be blood shed to the Tribesmen because of something he did. He needed to talk to Aaron and let him know what was going on. Then, at least he could have his guard up if it was warranted.
“I don’t have to ask ‘what’s up’ now do I?” Fat J. returned to sit behind a plate of food that it looked like he’d was almost finished. There was a curious light in his eyes, but Rafe would bet that the man knew what had happened already, even though it hadn’t been more than 30 minutes since the dirty deed was done.
“You seem to know everything that’s going on almost before it happens, so you probably don’t have to ask.”
He watched Fat J. take a few more bites off the plate that didn’t have a lot of evidence of what was on it before he’d started eating. Then, the man wiped off his fingers in that compulsive way he usually did, and Rafe thought to himself that lately he’d been watching this way too often. It was almost like déjà vu from just last night when he talked to him at his favorite dive and he asked him about the complications that could come up with him being with one the of Reapers’ club girls. It didn’t seem that serious at the time, but it was serious as hell now.
“You’ve had a long night, and I do know what happened. I don’t always know all the pieces of the puzzle but somehow they work themselves back to me. I take it you were the one involved with the murder this evening?” The man got right to the point. Although Fat J. was sometimes abrupt and many people didn’t like him for it, it was one of the things Rafe liked best. He knew where he stood and he liked his truths straight up—with no bullshit.
“Hey, Fat. That wasn’t murder; it was self-defense. I was trying to have a conversation about Emma and he pulled a gun on me.”
“Why did he feel threatened?” Fat watched him like Rafe normally watched others, and he knew just what he was looking for. Inconsistencies in their stories, incongruent facts, agitation levels, where they were looking...all of that put together and he could tell who was telling the truth and who was lying.
“When I talked to Emma in the bathroom at Shaffer’s, I saw that she was roughed up pretty bad.” Rafe had no problem telling him what happened. It was the truth and no matter how he spun it, he did not draw any weapons during the altercation. He’d just tried to protect himself from a man who worked more with numbers than guns. It wasn’t his problem or his worry if Mark didn’t know how to work his tools, then he shouldn’t have brought them out.
“You walked into the Reapers’ side and went to their bathroom in front of everyone?” Fat J. looked amazed. This was the second time in two days that Rafe had been able to get past the mask Fat showed everyone to the real person beneath. This man never showed emotion. But here Rafe was, twice in two days, looking at his astonished face.
“Nah. I dated a Shaffer’s daughter, and she showed me the ins and outs of the establishment. There is a whole network of doors and passageways in that place.”
“Well, now you’ve told me something that I didn’t know.” The man actually looked impressed.
“Nobody knows that. It’s a secret.” One thing he’d known before the club scene was if someone trusted you with a secret, then you kept it. If it wasn’t your secret, then you locked that shit away in your vault and kept it there.
“How long have you known about the passageways?” Fat seemed interested, but it was probably because there was finally something that he didn’t know about first.
“A couple of years or so.”
“I do like a man who can keep a secret. That’s great. Now who knows you know about the passageways?”
“I’ve never told anyone and his daughter probably wouldn’t have told her dad she told me because I doubt he knew we were sleeping together.”
Fat J. just nodded his head, and Rafe just knew he was putting something together in his head. This man was a master planner. “Why don’t you lay low for a while, and I’ll find out what I can.”
“I’m supposed to meet Emma tonight and tell her what’s going on,” Rafe said, hoping that he wasn’t going to tell him he shouldn’t meet her.
“Alright. I’ll still put feet on the street to find out what’s going on,” Fat J. said, getting up to put his plate in the sink.
“You’re not going to tell me it would be better if I just stayed away from her for a while?” Rafe watched his friend clean off his plate for much longer than it should have taken, so he knew he was thinking.
“I know you well, Rafe.” Fat J. turned toward him and looked him over. “You think that I haven’t figured out how much Emma means to you. You’ve acted like a different man ever since you met her. I would tell you that it would probably be better if you didn’t see her so soon after what happened, but do you think I don’t know you’d go to see her anyway?”
Rafe stood there and didn’t answer because the man was right. He was going to see Emma tonight if it were the last thing he did. Hell, he didn’t even know why he’d asked.
“I mean,” Fat J. said with amazement apparent in his voice and watching him like a hawk, “you killed for her.”
“I didn’t actually kill for her. She asked me to talk to him for her, and he turned violent and pulled out a gun. That doesn’t mean that I killed him for her. I was protecting myself; my life was at stake.” Rafe watched as Fat J. tried to put all this together and make a determination about what he didn’t know...his guilt...the depth of his feelings...how this was going to play out for him and all others involved? He must have come to a decision since he turned away from Rafe and finished cleaning all the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.
“I believe you, Rafe. However, from what you told me, they have his cell phone in which his Old Lady left the last text to say to meet her out in the parking lot, and then they have him dead. They either are going to think she did it...which wouldn’t be that bad of a plan, or she helped someone else do it. In that case, it may be bad for her. He was a big time guy for the Reapers and his ability to make money overshadowed the fact he was the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.” The large man returned to the table and looked out the window.
Rafe noticed how quiet it was in this house, and except for the fountain that bubbled up water in a continuous stream of white noise, there was nothing. Maybe that was why this man’s thoughts were as clear as they were. No clutter. Not like his thoughts and life. He could probably learn something from Fat J., but that would have to come at another time. Right now, he had to focus on getting himself and Emma out of this mess. Was it even possible to do? He knew one thing—with Fat J. on his side—he had a better chance than most.
“Are you coming up with something?” Rafe didn’t want to seem impatient, but he was. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, but he also knew he should take care of business.
“I’m working on it.”
“I hate to bother you with this while you’re thinking, but when will you know about the guns we needed from you for the deal we set up a few weeks ago?” He knew his timing was shit, but the way his life was going he didn’t know when he may meet his maker. Rafe had no interest in leaving this earth anytime soon, but if he did, he wanted to make sure that the things he’d been put in charge of were in order.
“Well, at least there is something easy we can discuss. You will have your merchandise in five days and that is a guarantee,” Fat J. said with certainty.
“I’ll let Aaron know.” Rafe heard those words and just like that Rafe felt just a touch better...about that situation anyway. “I told Emma that I’d meet her in a couple of hours, and I want to follow through with what I told her I’d do, so I should probably be on my way soon.”
“Rafe, you need a plan because the Reapers are going to be looking for whoever killed their top money man. He was a very important man to their business.”
“A plan to do what?” Rafe asked, slightly confused.
“For everything. You need a plan, but your plan should be to get out of town for a while.”
“Should I take Emma with me?”
“If you take her with you, then you’d need to stay gone unless you talk to Aaron about his stance on this situation. You’ve made a slightly volatile situation increase exponentially, and I am hoping things can be salvaged.” Fat J. sat, considering the circumstances, and turned to Rafe. “You need to talk to Aaron about laying low, and then—if you must—take a quick trip to see Emma.”
“How long do you think is a good time to be gone?”
“That depends on how hot this situation gets. Right now, no one knows it was you who did this, or at least they didn’t as of the last communication I’d received about it. However, if it comes out, there will be hell to pay. It’s mostly been the Tribesmen who were trying to keep this whole situation from escalating. The Reapers would love to take you down and take over your very lucrative businesses.”
Rafe sat there, knowing that his buddy was right. Yet, he didn’t run like a bitch; he stayed to fight his battles. He’d talk to Aaron and find out what he thought. If the consensus said he should take off for a while, then he’d do it. However, he really didn’t want to.
“I know you work in definite times, and although I don’t have one, I’d say four to six weeks.”
“That long?” Rafe was thinking a couple days. He was going to have to go without his family for that long. What the fuck would he do for that amount of time?
“Just a shot in the dark, but I would say so.” Fat J. got up, and Rafe figured he was going to gather some more information or get ready to leave, so he pulled out his phone and prepared to make the phone call he really didn’t want to make.
The phone rang and was immediately picked up. “What the fuck, Rafe?” Aaron gave him a greeting that he only expected if he’d heard the news.
“I was going to come over, but I don’t know if I’m going to have enough time.”
“At least I know what was bothering you earlier; but, I thought I told you if you needed someone to have your back we were there for you. You’re telling me you walked into Shaffer’s and started all this shit? No one knows it was you except for the planning committee. They said you left right before the Reapers’ negotiation man was found shot in the parking lot.”
Aaron was a powerful man, and Rafe knew he was fair. He’d done what he’d done without really thinking this through. He told the story, starting from the moment he met Emma in the bar of their rival’s club house and ending at his self-defense in the parking lot.
“You mean to tell me you walked into the Reapers’ cave in a mask and walked out with their prime girl?” Aaron’s voice was calm and deliberate, as he took in all the information and tried to make a decision.
“Yes. I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble for us though. I wondered what you thought about bringing Emma over to the Tribesmen for her safety.”
“So, you’re trying to bring her over for safety’s sake?” Aaron said wryly. “I don’t know that they’ll do it. I wish you’d have said something beforehand. We could have tried to talk to Joe and offered him something he wanted to sweeten the fact that we walked into their place and started choosing women like we were ordering pie.”
“I’m here with Fat J. He can have the shipment to you in no more than five days.”
“In the midst of all this, you went to see about the shipment? You, son, are full of surprises.” Aaron chuckled, but Rafe could tell he was proud that he’d put business at the top of his duties. “I’ll be waiting for the shipment. Thanks for getting an end date for me.”
“Fat thinks I should get out of town for a while; but, you know I don’t like to run, Aaron.” Rafe felt better now that he’d told his leader, but he didn’t know where he stood in terms of his position with the Tribesmen.
“I know you don’t and you shouldn’t. They don’t know it’s you, so there is a possibility that this could just blow over. You’re over there with Fat J., and he has all the information available to him. I’m sure he’s looking into it for you.”
“He is. I have a few more things to do, and I’ll stop by later on this evening.”
“Be safe, Rafe. I should be at the club house all night. Call me when you get here or if you run into any trouble.”
“Will do.” Rafe hung up the phone and wondered when and where this night was going to end. He stood up to get going; he needed to figure out what he was going to do about Emma. If they hadn’t tied her to the situation, then she would have gotten what she wanted...freedom from Mark and a chance to think about what she was going to do with her life.
He texted Fat J.: I’m getting ready to get out of here. Talked to Aaron and he thinks I should stay so I’ll lay low around here. Leaving and will get back to you shortly. Let me know what you find out.
There was an elevator and he’d chosen to go down that way instead of the way he entered. His phone dinged with a returned message from Fat J.: I think you should reconsider your position on leaving for a bit but I’ll respect your decision. I’m glad you came to see me friend and I’ll keep you posted.
With that part over and two sets of people finding out what was going on, Rafe set out to find Emma and make sure she was all right. From heaven to hell in a few minutes. That’s how this whole couple of days had gone. He wouldn’t complain since he started this off in the first place. He wasn’t sure that he would turn back time and do something different. He’d met Emma because of all this and she was worth it.