Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Red

At the clubhouse, I return the car seat to Haley with a murmured thanks. All the ol’ ladies and kids are still here. They won’t be going home until the brothers are free to take them.

They’re quiet though. White-faced. Chrissy is sitting by herself and tears start falling when she sees me. I get it. Her son was killed in a hit-and-run a couple of years ago and shit like this brings up memories for her.

Church is buzzing when I walk in.

“Hey,” Trigger says as I drop into a chair next to him. “We’ll get the fuckers who done this.”

“Why haven’t we got them already?” I’m feeling bitchy, taking it out on the wrong person.

“Because we’ve been treatin’ them like fucking wasps,” Hangman snarls as he storms into the room and hurls himself in his chair. He winces and sucks in a deep breath.

I take a moment to settle my heart. It’s gonna take a while to see through the red haze I have towards Hangman. I keep tellin’ myself he’s not to blame, but I ain’t convinced. He shouldn’t have been with my mom. She should never have died.

Joker sits in the chair opposite Hangman and rubs his temple. “Let’s start with the who.”

“That ain’t hard to figure out.” Reaper scowls from across the table and my mind switches direction.

I slam my hand down hard on the table and bolt to my feet. I pretty much dwarf the rest of my brothers so there’s a scramble as they all jump up. No one wants to be a sitting duck. And fuck it. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen me mad.

“Sit down!” Joker orders between clenched teeth.

“Fuck you.” I point my finger at Reaper. “And you too you, motherfucker. I told every fuckin’ one of you that I wanted Stella at the hospital and the minute my back was turned, you hustled her out and forced her into my car.”

“That fuckin’ girl still hanging around?” Hangman says.

Don’t punch him, Red. Wait until it’s a fair fight. “That fuckin’ girl ain’t any different than the rest of your fuckin’ ol’ ladies.”

“She got you arrested, brother,” Reaper says. “You don’t even know her.”

“You goddamned sonofabitch. You’re the worst of them all, threatening her.”

Reaper drops his eyes. “Shouldn’t of. I know. Heat of the moment. We were protecting you.”

“No fuckin’ excuse. You disrespected me. You all did.”

Hangman glares at me. “Your brothers were looking out for you, cocksucker. You have enough to deal with. You don’t need some crazy cunt makin’ trouble.”

I glare at him. “Fuck you, Hangman.”

It gets quiet in the room. Hangman talks shit all the time because he likes fucking around with us and depending on what’s goin’ down, he gets a reaction. Today, though. Not the right time to play fucking games with me. I see the tension in my brothers’ shoulders, gettin’ ready to intervene.

“Hey,” Joker says quietly. “We fucked you around. I fucked you around. I made her leave. I made Reaper take her home. This isn’t on anyone but me.”

I turn to him. “So I should be beatin’ the shit out of you?”

Hangman never knows when to keep his mouth shut. “This is bullshit, Red. We hurt the bitch’s feelings. Don’t matter in the big scheme of things.”

He’s right and he’s wrong. “Yeah, let’s talk about the big scheme of things. My mom’s dead. My sister’s an orphan. I wanna know why.”

“Sit,” Joker says and I slump into my chair, my energy ebbing. Ain’t never been a longer day than this one.

Eight moves the meeting along. “Ain’t the Blackbeards.”

I look at the man who barely speaks, leaning against the wall, always settin’ himself apart from everyone.

“Why not?” Jawbone says. “They blew up Evanee’s clinic.” Evanee is Trigger’s ol’ lady and a vet. Wasn’t a good day.

“It wasn’t them,” Fender says. “They’re stupid but not this kinda stupid. They know if they kill Hangman, we’ll hunt all of them down and make them regret they were ever born.”

Today I couldn’t give a shit if Hangman bought it, but Fender’s right. Crip, the Blackbeard’s prez, has a healthy survival instinct.

Blood shifts in his chair. “Could be retaliation for killin’ Moliter.” Moliter is the fuck who thought it was a good idea to peddle drugs on the Jury’s turf. Kidnapped Reaper’s girl; went out shittin’ himself.

“I doubt it’s Moliter,” Rocky says. “I think we cut the snake’s head off. If he still has minions out there, they ain’t fuckin’ around in Reno.”

“Or Vegas,” Mothman says. Mothman’s another loaner from the Las Vegas chapter. “We’d know.”

“Then the feebs,” Hash says.

Joker clears his throat. “They’ve gone underground. Haven’t heard from them since this went down. I’d of thought they’d call by now, talking shit. Claiming their victory. Threatening more shooting if we don’t give them what they want.”

Hangman slams his fist on the table, then grimaces. “Why the fuck are they still out there? Why the fuck haven’t we got them yet?”

Coyote speaks up. “Because they’re trained field operatives. We don’t know if they’re on the run or still part of the FBI. We’ve got evidence that implicates them for the murder of that journalist so that keeps them from siccing their colleagues on us.”

“The fuckin’ feebs already know about Hell’s Jury. They don’t need those assholes telling them anything,” Jawbone replies.

Coyote doesn’t like to lose an argument. “Maybe they were assigned to get evidence of our criminal activities. They’re clearly on someone’s payroll. Most likely the cartel since the journalist was Mexican.”

“Why the fuck don’t we mail the picture to the feebs and let them deal with it?” King asks in exasperation. “Look what fuckin’ happened today. If it was them, the pricks tried to kill Hangman.” He nods towards me. “Killed Red’s mom.”

“She’s collateral damage,” Hash says, which is nothing I haven’t already thought, but comin’ from the bastard who made my life hell when I was a prospect, he’s lucky I’m not carrying my piece.

“Thanks for sugarcoating it, fucker,” I snarl.

He shrugs. “Just sayin’.”

A couple of months ago, he’d of come back at me, but since his prospect was killed trying to protect him, and his girl almost died, he’s less of an asshole.

Coyote taps the table. “They know by now that they killed an innocent and their attempt on Hangman’s life failed. They’re not going to call us up and make threats. It was a public drive-by and that brings the cops into this big time. If it were just Hangman, the cops would give it lip service, but the media’s going to be all over this because of Red’s mom.”

“Nobody fuckin’ talks to the media,” Hangman barks. He’s pale, lookin’ like he’s about to faint.

Joker sees it too. “Meetin’s over. If the feds have gone to ground, we got a few days to figure out what to do. They didn’t get what they wanted, so they’ll try again. This time, we’ll be ready. It ain’t a game anymore; they made a serious mistake targeting Hangman and killin’ one of the family.”

I clench my teeth at Joker’s reference to my mom as one of the Jury’s family. She had nothin’ to do with the club. At least that’s what I thought before she and Hangman got shot up.

The guys nod and head towards the door, but Eight tells me, Joker and Hangman to wait up.

He makes sure the door is shut, then sits down. He looks tired. “It’s Chrissy,” he softly says.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Hangman growls, apparently getting a second wind.

“Chrissy’s the narc.”

I’m stunned. No way. Not Chrissy.

“Talk fucker,” Hangman says. “You can’t throw accusations like that around without proof. It’ll fuckin’ tear this club apart.”

Understatement of the year. Fender is Chrissy’s husband and Blood is her brother. They’re both long-time members of the Jury.

Eight weighs his words carefully. “The brothers talk too much around their ol’ ladies. Chrissy and Gillian have been here a long time.”

“Why not Gillian then? She’s Blood’s wife, after all,” Joker says.

“Gillian isn’t around much. Still works, has a life outside of the club. Chrissy’s always here. She’s like a noose around Fender’s neck, not that he minds. They’re tight.”

“None of that’s a reason,” I say.

“Are you implyin’ that Fender’s part of this?” Joker asks in disbelief.

Eight shrugs. “Don’t matter, does it? Chrissy was in Hangman’s office late one night. Evanee saw her when Trigger and Rider brought the fuckin’ horse over here. She was also in the room when Hangman told Hash where Peyton and Bryce were.” He looks at Hangman. “This morning, you were talkin’ to Joker in the big room. Hales and I were at the bar. Too far away to overhear, but Chrissy wasn’t. Then the shit went down.”

Joker says, “Still not enough.”

Eight replies, “Shortly after Hangman left the clubhouse, she went outside to make a phone call. Hung up when she saw me.”

“Don’t mean she was snitchin’,” Joker says.

“It fits,” Eight replies. “Hangman leaves. Chrissy makes a phone call. Hangman and Leslie get gunned down.”

Joker leans toward Eight, hostility written on his face. “She could’ve been talking to anyone. You better be sure.”

“Yeah, I thought of that too, asshole,” Eight replies staring down Joker. “So, I had Oscar steal her phone.” Oscar is Eight’s son. A miniature version of Eight.

“What the hell was Oscar doing here?” Hangman snarls. “Ain’t it a school day?”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. Leave it to Hangman to overlook the fact that Eight is encouraging his kid to be a criminal. Hangman has three kids, all different mothers. They’re always at the clubhouse hearing our shit. Sometimes seein’ our brawling. And he’s fuckin’ worried about Oscar missin’ a day of school?

Eight shrugs. “Got suspended.”

It’s a lesson for me, watching these guys. I’m never gonna be like them. Not with Gabby or Sorcha. They’re my world. The Jury will always come second.

“Who gives a shit,” Joker says then motions with his hand to Eight. “Keep talkin’.”

“I dialed the last number. A man picks up. Says, “What now? More details?”

“And what did you say?” I ask.

“Nothin’. I hung up.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you call Hangman?” I explode. “My mom would still be alive!”

Eight loses his patience with all of us. “I’m not some stupid motherfucker, you assholes!” He turns to Hangman. “Your fuckin’ phone was turned off.”

Joker and I stare in disbelief. Hangman’s phone is never off. “What the fuck, Hangman?” Joker says.

Hangman ignores him. To Eight, he says, “Why go it alone, you prick? Why the fuck didn’t you check with Joker? See where I was goin’.”

“I was here and so was Coyote,” Joker adds angrily.

“Yeah, I know, but where? ‘cause I couldn’t find either of you.”

“Fuck,” Joker says as he pinches his nose. “We were in the chamber working on shit.”

Hangman drops his head in his hands. Then he looks up. “We keep this between ourselves.”

“Ya think?” I say. It’s clear to me and everyone else in the room that I’ve lost respect for Hangman. I can’t find a civil word for him. Don’t care if he lives or dies. Don’t think my feelings will ever change.

“Go suck some cock, asshole.” Hangman stands too fast. He sways and grabs the table for support. “I need some thinkin’ time,” he says as he stumbles from the room.

“He needs pills and a bed. He can fuckin’ think later,” Joker mutters as he follows Hangman.