Old Lady (Iron Disciples Book 2) (10 page)

“Oh shit!”

This can’t be good. I reach for the wine bottle that was
cradled in my lap; it’s not there anymore. I look around frantically as I hear
boots in the hallway. I got about ten seconds to find that bottle and get ready
to defend my life. A familiar feeling of dread settles over me. How quickly one
gets used to this feeling? My life had been in danger so many times in the last
ten days. I spot the bottle on the floor beneath my glass coffee table. I
scramble around on the couch, banging my cast on the couch end table. So much
for my pretending to be asleep. I’m finally within reach of the bottle. As my
fingers curl around the neck of the dark green glass bottle I hear my name.

“Hello Morgan.”

The sound of my name causes my head to jerk upright. Cade
is standing in my living room wearing a pained expression on his handsome face.

“Why’d you do it?”

Oh how I wish I was sober for this moment. I need to
think clearly if I’m going to get out of this alive. Alive is the key word here.
Suddenly a thought occurs to me. I am sitting here trying to figure out how to
survive this encounter. This can’t be normal. In most relationships you don’t
have to worry about your significant other killing you, you just worry about
whose going to take the couch this time and how many flowers or whatever you’re
going to have to buy to soothe ruffled feathers and right now I don’t think I
am making a lick of sense. Good thing I’m not talking out loud right now.

“You’re drunk!” Cade says with disgust. “Of all the times
I need you sober you’re drunk. I want to know why you told Shooter I was going
behind the club’s back to make a deal with the Juarez Cartel? I mean, how could
you even have that information and why would Shooter be dumb enough to believe something
so absurd?

“I…uh…shit, I don’t know what I was thinking Cade.”

I’m wracking my brain trying to remember what the hell I
told Shooter about Cade’s behind the club dealings with the Cartel. I’m
thinking but nothing’s forthcoming. Suddenly my phone starts ringing. Before
Cade can forbid my answering it I grab it.

“Hello?”

Stacy is on the line.

“Oh my god Morgan I’m glad I caught you. Cade is coming
for you and he’s furious. You gotta get out of that house.” I can’t even get a
word in as Stacy is talking a mile a minute. “Shooter and the other officers
confronted Cade at the meeting about going behind the club’s back. Turns out
Eddie was at that meeting too so he really didn’t go behind
every
ones
back. He did have the club president’s blessing so to speak. And they aren’t
doing a deal with the Juarez Cartel. They’re in bed with the Latin Kings and
the Outkasts in some guns and blow deal. I don’t know the details. Cade
orchestrated this whole deal to make sure the Disciples are the alpha club and
all three of them are strong enough together to hold off the Juarez Cartel.
Cade’s not in bed with the Cartel Morgan; you got it all wrong.”

“Are you fucking done?” I ask.

“Uh…yeah.”

“You’re too fucking late Stacy. Cade got here five
minutes ago.”

“Oh shit… sorry ‘bout that. Good luck.”

“Yeah…thanks for nothing. Hey wasn’t Shooter supposed to
like get some evidence to keep me out of this?”

The second I bring up Shooter I know I fucked up. Cade
reacts immediately. I should know better than to talk so much…or at all after
drinking as much as I just imbibed.

“Shooter? What the fuck are you talking about Morgan? Are
you and Shooter up to something?”

Cade’s in my face now. His normally handsome face is
contorted in furry and his fists are clenched and shaking. Oh man I really
screwed the pooch on this one.

“Do you have any idea what we do to people who…who rat on
the club?” He asks.

The way he spits out the word rat says a lot about his
feelings on the subject.

“You give them a stern lecture?” I ask.

“Morgan!”

“A
really
stern one?”

I realize I’m pushing my luck here… but I can’t help
myself, I’m drunk.

“We kill them Morgan…if they’re lucky. If they’re not so
lucky we leave them to wish they were dead. It takes a lot to make a man wish
for death…I suspect it wouldn’t take much for you.”

Is that a threat? Did Cade just threaten me? Or am I just
not hearing accurately through my alcohol fogged brain.

“I don’t even know what to do with you Morgan! If you
were a brother it’d be cut and dry. You’re lucky you’re just an old lady. But
since you’re my old lady I have to make sure I do the right thing here.”

“Yes, do the right thing,” I plead.

“You won’t like the club’s version of the right thing
Morgan. I’d tell you to get the fuck out of here but we’re in your house. But
if you ever show yourself in the club house I can’t help what my brothers will
do to you. To be safe…you should just get the fuck out of town.”

 “What? I can’t fucking get up and leave. I have a life
here Cade. I have a career and a house and…and stuff. I am not skipping town.
I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing here. I thought I was
protecting the club.”

“That’s not your job! You’re not even a member Morgan.
It’s not your responsibility to protect us. That’s my responsibility and I’m
telling you to get out of town or at least make yourself invisible. If my
brothers corner you somewhere, it’ll likely be over for you. Do you understand?
Am I getting through to your drunken brain?”

“Loud and clear Cap’n… I read you loud and fucking clear.
Now can I fucking go to bed?”

Suddenly I hear a distant female voice calling my name. I
look down and see my phone in my lap and it’s still connected to Stacy. I pick
up.

“You hear all that?” I ask.

“I’m coming to get you Morgan. Grab your travel bag and
go to the mini mart at the end of the block. You’ll be safe there until I can
get you. You got it?”

“Yeah… I’m supposed to get my sorry ass to the mini mart.
I’ll be there.”

“Alright, well I’ll see you there.” She says and hangs
up.

I look up at Cade. He’s watching me intently. His eyes
are burning holes in my chest. If I don’t get out of here in a hurry he might
welch on his promise and do something to me after all. I stand up, but my head
starts spinning with a vengeance. I immediately flop back down on my couch. This
is not gonna be easy. I move to stand again, this time with more success, but
the minute I take two steps my living room begins tilting from side to side and
about two seconds later I see my floor rushing up to my face. This is gonna
fucking hurt!

An incredibly loud ringing noise is sounding off in my
brain like a giant klaxon. I’m pretty sure after this I’m going to be
permanently deaf. With every clang comes a pain like a white hot poker stabbing
completely though my left eye and into my brain. I struggle to sit up but the
ensuing vertigo makes my stomach revolt before I can even get up on one elbow.
I hang my head over the side of the couch and fortunately there’s an empty waste
can sitting there. I guess I knew last night that this morning like this would
be coming.

When my stomach finally quits revolting I begin to notice
something. There’s carpet on the floor. There hasn’t been carpet on the floor
of my place since right after I bought the place in 2004. I prop myself up on
one elbow, open my eyes, and look around. I’m in a hotel by the looks of it. At
least I’m alive. Feeling even better I venture to sit up. That’s when I notice
the blood!

On the floor near the bathroom entrance is what appears
to be one of Cade’s tee shirts stained with blood; too much to be from a nick
while shaving. Not unless he cut his nose off in the process. This can’t really
be happening. Carefully I get to my feet taking great efforts to not move too
fast. Any sudden movement will set my head spinning again. I can feel the cold
dread beginning to touch the edges of my heart almost like a dusting of frost
at the beginning of a real storm. I take a couple deep breaths and force myself
to calm down before moving again. I stop at the bloody shirt. There’s no point
in touching it I guess.  I turn on the bathroom light and that’s when the panic
hits. It’s like being suddenly punched in the soft part of your stomach when
you least expect it. All the air in my lungs just bursts out, followed by an
intense round of nausea, then more vomiting. I sag to my knees just shy of the
toilet. It’s a good thing I didn’t have anything in my stomach this time.

Five minutes later I’m grabbing the edge of the sink and
struggling to pull myself to my feet. What I find in the basin is almost enough
to make me collapse on the bathroom floor. Sitting in the sink is the white
blouse I was wearing last night. Only problem is, it’s no longer white. It
looks like I was trying to wash the blood out before crashing on the couch at
some point during the night. Holding onto the counter for support I glance
around the bathroom for the weapon. I must have used a knife to do the job.
What else would have created such a mess? I reach out gingerly and pick up my
blouse by the collar and pick it up, hoping the knife will be in the sink
underneath. No such luck. I rack my brain for details…any details about last
night but I keep coming up with a dry slate.

As I stare at the mess in the sink and the mess on the
bathroom floor the reality of my situation begins to sink in. This much blood
loss could only mean one thing. Cade is dead. He couldn’t have lost this much
blood and not be anything else. Between his bloody shirt and mine there’s gotta
be a fucking gallon of the stuff! I look at my watch. It’s nearly eleven in the
morning. OMG! It’s almost check out time. What if I only took the room for the night?
No way I’m gonna get this place cleaned up in...in seventeen minutes. I gotta
rent the room for at least another day.

I stumble into the main room and over to the small table
where the phone is located and press the zero button.

“Holiday Express Inn operator, how may I help you?”

She’s way too bright and cheery for this time of day.

“I certainly hope you can help me.” I begin. “I’m in
room…” I look around. What the hell room is this? I don’t see it anywhere and
my key card is who knows where.

“I know you’re in room 317 Ms. Swift.” She jumps in. “Did
you need someone to help with your bags?”

“Um…actually I’d like to stay another night…make that two
more nights.”

I hold my breath in anticipation. Her answer could mean
the difference in me sleeping in a nice warm bed or in a jail cell. I try to
quell the rising panic I feel in every cell of my being.

“I’d love to help you with that Ms. Swift. Of course the
room you currently occupy is reserved for another person but we do have several
comparable rooms available. Would you like to stay on the same floor?”

All I can hear is this loud buzzing in my ears. I’m
pretty sure she’s still talking to me but I just lost everything after the word
reserved. I fight off the panic and struggle to corral my scattered thinking.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” I begin. “There must be a bad
connection or something. You lost me back there. I’d just like to reserve this
room for two more nights. But if you can’t swing that, just one night will do
fine.”

“I’m so sorry Ms. Swift, but the room you’re currently in
has been reserved for tonight and the next two nights.”

This can’t be fucking happening to me. I glance at my
watch. I have all of twelve more minutes before I have to vacate. I gotta keep
trying.

“Can’t you just relocate the other guest? Put them in a
better room. I’ll pay the difference between this room and their better accommodations.”

There…that was actually a good idea.

“I’m sorry miss, but I can’t boot them out. Here’s what I
can do for you though. I’ll put you up for your two nights in a better room…a
suite, and I’ll keep your price the same as the room you’re currently in. Now
that’s a good deal right? I’ll even send someone up right away to move your
bags to the new room.”

I’m just about to bite her head off when I hear a knock
on the door. I look at my watch. I have nine more minutes. Gotta be their
over-zealous maid service or something. I cover the phone’s mouthpiece and
holler at the maids.