Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Red

By the time we get to the clubhouse, I’ve calmed down to the point that I feel guilty about going caveman on Stella. It wasn’t really her fault I got arrested, but that still doesn’t erase the fact that it will set back my chances to get unsupervised visits with Gabby.

“In my office,” Hangman orders as he walks by me.

I follow him in, fold my arms and lean against the wall while he dumps himself in his chair. “How bad do you think it is?”

“I dunno. Erin’s been supportive, but sort of reluctantly. She might use this arrest as ammunition to stretch things out.” Erin’s the ex. We don’t hate each other, but that doesn’t mean we love each other either.

“Want me to talk to her?”

Jesus Christ, that’s the last thing I want. Nothin’ like a foul-mouthed bearded biker who has one mood - pissed off. “No. I think I need to work this out on my own. I got a lawyer?—”

“Sam.”

Sam’s the club’s lawyer and good, but still… “Not Sam. Mine is versed in family law.”

“What the fuck do you need a different lawyer for? Sam knows what the fuck he’s doin’.”

I pull in a deep breath. Talking to Hangman is like walkin’ a tightrope during a hurricane. “Sam’s associated with the club.”

“So the fuck are you!”

“Yeah, but I need to keep the club in the background. Meredith is the best family-law attorney in Sagebrush and she’s on my side.”

“Meredith Luther?” Hangman says. “That’s the cunt representin’ you?”

I stare at him. “How do you know Meredith?”

“She tried to get Brielle after Megan disappeared. Grandparents hired her.”

Brielle is Hangman’s daughter. Her mom was Megan, a passaround who he got pregnant. I wasn’t around then and neither was Sam. “How’d you win?”

“Lisa made it happen.”

Lisa Quinn, the club’s lawyer before Sam. She was killed by one of our enemies.

“Well,” I say insensitively. “She ain’t here to help now.”

Hangman leans towards me. “Yeah, but Meredith is shit. She didn’t get her fuckin’ hands on Brielle, so this is her chance to fuck us over.”

Hangman and his whale-sized ego. “This isn’t about the club. Meredith is professional. She wouldn’t be my advocate if she thought there was a conflict of interest.”

“Wow, advocate. Fuckin’ big word for you.”

I want to tell him to fuck off. Some of the brothers would but I’m not that guy. It don’t make sense to be aggressive unless it needs to be done. And this ain’t enough for it to be done. Besides, I think Hangman’s tryin’ to provoke me and my anger is on a low simmer now, which is fine. Being pissed is exhausting.

Except for Hangman, I guess. He seems energized by it.

I keep my face neutral. “Gotta go call Meredith and let her know what happened. Damage control.”

“Fuck it,” Prez says as he dismisses me. “Go hang yourself.”

I’m barely out of Hangman’s office when Roxy, one of the passarounds, approaches. She’s older than me, jaded, but still hanging around the club. I can’t figure it out. This isn’t her future and I’m pretty sure she knows it. Maybe she has nowhere else to go.

“I heard what happened,” she says as she runs her fingers down my chest. Of course she has.

“Yeah,” I reply. It’s all I got to say to her.

“I bet you need to blow off some tension. I could give you a full-body massage.”

I think about it. I really do, but flashes of Stella race through my head. Just because I’m pissed at her doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to her. “Not right now,” I say. Stella’s not my future, but I can think about her for a while. And while I’m thinking about her, I don’t wanna think about anyone else.

Inside the main room, it’s quiet. Not unusual. Brothers are out doin’ stuff, a gun run today. Dicer is hanging around though. He’s the club’s doc. All the time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen him sober. Stitched me up after I was slashed in the stomach. I’ve got a big-ass messy scar that’s never going away.

He waves. I wave back, then I head to the bar.

Haley’s behind it emptying the dishwasher. No one says she’s the bartender, but she’s taken on the job anyway. She’s sweet in that girl-next-door type of way. She’s one of my favorite ol’ ladies, maybe because she’s sane. At least I think she is. Appearances are deceptive around here.

“Hi,” she says brightly as I sit on a bar stool. “Heard you had a rough day.”

“News travels fast.”

She pours me a draft beer and slides it to me. “Well it’s hard not to overhear Hangman when he’s pissed.”

I take a draw of the icy brew and feel a bit of tension leak out of me. “When isn’t he pissed?”

She grins. “Never, I guess. Want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. Bartender therapy has never been my thing. “I wanna forget it ever happened.”

“Consider it forgotten.”

I look around. “Where’s Stark?” Stark is a prospect from the Vegas Hell’s Jury club, helping out because we got too many enemies and not enough of us to keep them from fuckin’ us over.

“Out on the gun run. Just Zero on the gates.”

Zero is the other prospect. Coming along nicely, but still needs some toughening up.

“He came to pick me up at the cop shop. Who was manning the gates?” We always have a guard on the gates, day or night. Usually the prospects; I sure as hell did enough of it before I got my colors.

She motions towards Dicer with her head.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me!”

“No, but I took a Sig 44 and stood watch with him. I’m a pretty good shot.”

I take a closer look at her. Maybe she isn’t as sane as I thought. “Hard to miss with a gun like that. Gotta get home somehow. Borrow your phone to call a cab?”

She checks her watch. “I’ll drive you. I have to pick the boys up from school in a half-hour, so I can drop you at your house first.”

I think about my house. Think about how I’m locked out. The only positive is that I moved in six weeks ago, haven’t had time to alarm it, so if I kick in the front door, I won’t get done for burglary. Unless one of my fucking neighbors calls the cops on me.

“That’d be a blessing, Hales, since I got no wallet so I couldn’t pay for a cab if I called one.”

“Hang on, I’ll grab my purse.”

Five minutes later, we’re on the road, headed back to Sagebrush.

On the way, I think about the Jury. We’re the Reno chapter and along with the Vegas club, we claim all of Nevada as our territory. We got other chapters; one in New Mexico, New Orleans, California. And we got decent relationships with other bike clubs outside our own.

Except for the Blackbeards, who are like fucking wasps at a picnic. Crip, the president, and Hangman, have a long ugly history, and it’s hard to put aside their differences to achieve any sort of peace. That, and Crip’s a piece of shit who won’t fucking stay on his side of tracks.

We had a few go rounds with the Harper family a couple months back, but they’ve been quiet since Hangman stomped one of them to death and dropped his body on their doorstep.

Then there’s the fuckin’ feds. Two of the buggers, fuckin’ with us. We got evidence on them that would take them down for murder. They want it back and they’re fucking around with the club to try to get it.

“Here we are,” Haley says as she pulls up to the curb outside my house.

I get out. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime,” she replies, then waves and drives off.

I glance across the street and catch the flick of a curtain. Stella or her mom, I figure. Gonna be fun when I kick in my front door. It’ll be worth buyin’ a new one just to scare the shit out of them.