The man was unsure how to proceed. Her brother's animosity was normal. He hated cops. He hated outsiders. It was easy to imagine how any conversation between the two would work out. Still, she was puzzled by his entrance. Kayda turned her head toward the night sky and saw the raven, staring down at her. Deceit. Truth. Knowledge.
She put her arms around her brother. His shoulders tensed up. "I don't see why we can't go inside and hear him out."
Kelan didn't take his eyes off Maxim. "Do you know who this man is, Kayda?"
She tried to pull her brother back, to protect him from himself. He was a wolf, much stronger than an average person, and he had a bad temper. It was a bad combination in a world where survival meant keeping a low profile. "Calm down, Keekee."
"This is the man who arrested Carlos at Sycamore Lodge. He's the man who conspired with the CDC assassin to kill our brother."
Kayda blinked slowly. Or maybe the world slowed. Truth.
Maxim knew about her family. Suddenly she didn't know how she felt about the man. Maybe she should let her brother rip his head off.
"It's not like that," assured the detective. "I arrested your brother in connection to a crime. He attacked a police officer and escaped custody before he was ever charged. What happened to him later was on him."
"You mean when he was killed?" asked Kayda.
Maxim contemplated the two sternly. "He wasn't killed last year."
"This is horseshit!" said Kelan. "You want to talk to the family? Come to Wicasa's house tomorrow morning. We'll set up a meet and greet with everybody you've affected. You can see the results of your work firsthand!"
Maxim measured his breath. He had the look of a man who both understood and dreaded the position he was in. But he was resolute. "Is there any way we can do that tonight?"
Kelan scowled. "You know what? You're not welcome on this reservation. And you're not welcome in this casino. I want you off this property, Dwyer."
And then Kelan completely surprised his sister by storming away.
Four years must have changed him. Or maybe it was just the last year. Kelan would never have walked away from something like this before. His big brother was his idol. Continuing without him must have been hard. Suddenly, Kayda felt guilty that she hadn't been around.
"Look," said Maxim to her, "I'm sorry if I'm intruding. Believe it or not, I'm trying to help your family find answers."
In a million years Kayda wouldn't have expected to feel sympathy for her oldest brother, but a tear came to her eye. "Is Carlos okay?" she asked in a pleading voice.
The detective released a heavy sigh. "Can we step aside for a moment?"
She wordlessly nodded and followed him away from the roar of the crowd into the parking lot. It was open air and surprisingly cool away from the walkway flames.
"You said your name was Garnett?" The detective was just making small talk while they distanced themselves from the festivities.
"Yeah. We all shared the same mom."
He nodded and stopped, deciding that their location was private enough.
"And how well did you know Carlos Doka?"
He was torturing her, asking questions endlessly. No wonder her brother was furious. "Do you mind if we get to the point?"
Maxim nodded. They shared a wordless gaze, then his lips tightened. As he opened his mouth to speak, a roaring applause came from the audience. They both turned to see the crowd gathering closer to the fountain. Spectators pressed into each other tightly as they abandoned the outer areas. Four women clad in bejeweled bikinis stood atop the fountain walls and raised their hands in celebration. They each grabbed a corner knob of the curtain.
In unison, the spectators all began counting down.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Kayda's heart still waited on the detective's words.
Seven. Six. Five.
She peered at Maxim. He was captivated by the excitement.
Four. Three.
She turned back to the fountain. The draw was magnetic.
Two.
The raven no longer sat on its perch above the statue. Something was wrong.
One.
The next few moments did not progress smoothly. The four women gave the curtain ill-timed tugs. The back opened as one of the front corners became tangled. Two of the showgirls pulled late. The perfectly executed countdown was ending in an anticlimactic bumble.
Then there was a scream. One of the girls fell into the crowd. The last side of the curtain finally fell away and the people staring below erupted in a frenzy.
More yelling. Suddenly a panicked rush to escape the terrace broke out. Spectators rammed into the locked doors of the casino. Others fled into the parking lot. The models remaining on the fountain turned around to examine their handiwork. One fainted. The others scrambled away.
As the riot of people rushed towards them, Maxim stepped forward to protect Kayda. His fingers went to the gun on his belt.
Kayda's breath stopped along with her heart.
On the bronze statue of a fist holding a silver full moon, a loose cloth hung, flapping in the wind. Only it wasn't a cloth. Its browned color was hardened and cracked. Thin in some places, black in others. A patch of dark brown hair hung from the top, and Kayda saw the deformed face of her older brother below it. The cloth
was
her older brother, Carlos. Only it wasn't him. It was just his skin, split along the back, all in one piece, strung up for display.
A piercing scream rose through Kayda. It started deep in her belly, reverberating in her diaphragm and lungs. At her neck, tonsils vibrated until they were sore, and her wide open mouth projected the ghastly sound, somehow louder than all the other horrified shrieks combined. Kayda yelled more vehemently than she had ever remembered being able. Then she felt lightheaded.
The world started to make sense again, as if she were waking from a dream. But she wasn't. She was nearly on the floor of the parking lot. The detective held her. She couldn't recall his name at the moment. He shook her shoulders and moved his mouth, saying something but not making much noise. Then she heard him ask if she was okay. Kayda weakly nodded. She stared past his face into the sky, but there were no birds to guide her.
Kayda remembered that she wasn't supposed to be weak. She brushed the cop away and took to her feet. Everything came into focus. Her heart pounded. She took a step towards the statue and saw her brother standing there.
Kelan. He ripped the skin down and threw it to the floor. He stood above it, tears streaming down his face. She needed to go to him. To be strong with him. But her steps were coming too slowly.
"This..." Kelan cried out to the small crowd who lingered. The men. The mercenaries. "This is what remains of my brother. This is what remains of a great tribesman!" Kelan's stance was bottled energy. His legs were bent at the knees, ready to pounce yet still standing tall. He held out his arms to either side, enclosed fists flexing, wiry muscles threatening to explode from under his skin. The short hairs on his head rose like the hackles of a dog.
"My brother was not a perfect man," he proclaimed. "He had his faults. He was no chief. But to his dying moments, he did what he did for the Yavapai people!"
The young men surrounding Kelan roared in agreement and patted him on the shoulders. Hotah and Yas were with him. The initial scatter of tribe members slowed. Some pulled closer.
Kelan hopped up onto the fountain wall and stood over his audience. He pointed to his brother's remains and spoke in a commanding voice. "This is what the Yavapai mean to the outside world! We are pushed away from the rivers and the highways. We are set aside as a nuisance. Then, when we build a casino, when we make it so that people want to come to
us
, they remind us of our place!"
An uproar rolled through the crowd like a wave crashing on a rocky shore. It was sharp, final, and deadly. Kayda stopped. She was relieved not to see her broken brother anymore, but she was worried about the other one.
Kelan Doka raised his hands into the air to silence the crowd. It took some time but a hushed whisper overtook the wind. The world itself quieted for what came next. Her half brother lowered his voice to a reverent tone.
"We all know what my brother was. We all know what I am. And some of you, as well." Kelan traded a look with Hotah and put his hand on the full moon statue behind him. All Kayda could think about were her grandfather's words. The moon was a beacon for hunters. And then she thought of her dead brother. The moon lit the hunters as well as the prey. "There's only one group of people who could have taken down the great Doka," Kelan said, even more softly.
"No," said Maxim. He strode forward with urgency, trying to put out the fuse before it was lit.
Kayda blinked slowly. The world was in slow motion again, but somehow, crystal clear. In the distance, she thought she heard the flapping of a bird's wings, miles away. Then her brother's voice broke the silence, hitting everybody's ears as nothing more than a whisper.
"The Seventh Sons."
Chapter 16
Fast as the Triumph Scrambler was, it couldn't beat the sun. Diego had ridden through the night, but by the time he arrived back at Sanctuary, it was the next morning. During the entire trip, the scene from the night before replayed in his mind.
The New Mexico State Police had ended up detaining Diego. Even though there was no legal justification to do so, they had bent the rules to take him out of play along with the rest of the MC. The bikers had been separated. After his numerous requests to be released, Sergeant Cortez had complied. Not knowing how long his brothers would be detained, Diego sped west to familiar lands to carry out Gaston's wishes.
The troopers had nothing on the Sons. It was all posturing, no doubt a message to the club, but the takedown had been well executed. Planned. The million dollar question was, why now?
Diego parked his bike and ripped his helmet off. Heavy boots stomped towards Sycamore Lodge. He wasn't just upset at the turn of events, he was upset at himself. At what he had gotten himself into. It had never been his intention to be an outlaw. The Seventh Sons had entered his life through his sister's poor choice of company; she was the reason he was in Sanctuary at all.
Staying, however, was on him.
The biker scowled as he approached the front door. He slowed his steps; they mirrored the hesitation in his thoughts. The Seventh Sons didn't wear colors. They weren't a crime syndicate. Not really. But for Diego to remain convinced that they weren't a gang was a wild act of self-deception. It forced the biker to consider his true motivations for joining the Sons. After a stint as a CDC assassin, a hunter of wolves, was working with them penance?
This period was a turning point in his life, he admitted. A wild card. Only he didn't know if it was worth aces or deuces.
The biker flung the front door open. The roadhouse was empty at this time, as he expected. The single person in the front of the house was the bartender, owner, and the girl that Diego had come to see.
Melody was a hot piece of work: dyed maroon hair, dark eyeliner, bright lipstick. She was naturally busty and squeezed her waist into a studded corset to exaggerate the effect. Pretty and deadly, but much the same as Diego. Moral. Weighed down by a conscience.
"Hey cutie," said the biker, trying to draw her attention away from washing glasses behind the bar. She had seen him already, of course. The rumbling of his Triumph's engine had betrayed his arrival long before he stepped inside.
Melody didn't raise her head. "Those charms don't work on me anymore."
Diego eased onto a barstool. Collapsed might have been a better word. He was tired after the long night and the long ride. "Don't be so sure about that, Mel."
His fatigue almost made him sentimental about the girl and the few months they had dated. It had always been a good match on paper. When Diego had broken it off, he was sure there was good reason, but the logic wasn't coming to him now.
Melody's painted lips formed a crooked smile. "Don't overestimate yourself, hotshot. You're not as much fun as you think."
Diego was called a lot of things by a lot of girls, but boring wasn't one of them. "You trying to call me some kind of buzzkill?"
"Not if you're having a drink." Melody finally turned off the sink and grabbed two shot glasses and a flavored vodka. Diego stopped her before she poured the second.
"You know I don't drink."
"And you know I don't believe in straight-edge. Everybody needs a vice." She winked at him. She always did that.
"You know a New Mexico state trooper named Cortez?"
Melody pounded the shot and smacked her red lips together. The sourness prevented her from answering, but Diego enjoyed watching her work her cheeks together. It accentuated her high cheekbones.
"He's friendly. Lets the boys run through his backyard. He gets a cut."
Melody's honorary MC status proved her history with the club, but she had always been on the fringes. Like Diego. Uninvolved with the dirty business. Nowadays she focused on running Sycamore Lodge, but she still knew a lot.
"Well something's up," said Diego, spinning around on his stool and facing the room. "He busted the whole club last night." Melody widened her eyes. "We were on to it so he didn't get shit on us. It's nothing—not yet. But I need to contact that new lawyer. You know her?"
"Sure do. After Clint was popped for trashing the laundromat, Gaston said we couldn't count on the police to watch our backs anymore. He hooked up with this woman out of Phoenix. He says she's a real cold bitch. She's like this soccer mom, you know? But she'll gut ya when you ain't looking."
Diego nodded. He'd heard Gaston make the same boast. It seemed overkill for what they needed. "You got her number? We need to make sure the clubhouse isn't raided or searched. We need her there in case the police show up with a warrant."
Melody paused and leaned over the bar in the way she did to show off her cleavage. "What about that cop friend of yours, Maxim? Why don't ya ask him?"
"I'm not worried about Sanctuary PD. This isn't them or I would have known about it."
She grabbed Diego's arm and spun him around to face her. "You sure you can trust that cop?"
Diego looked deep into her eyes. "With my life."
He could tell Melody was sizing him up. She was Deborah's daughter, and Maxim had killed her. It was an unfortunate connection in such a small town, but Melody had been strong. She'd hated her mother in the end, after she'd seen what the woman was capable of. She'd told Diego that blood wasn't thicker than water, that who she chose was more important than who fate dealt her. It was a grown-up way of looking at the world, and why not? At twenty-five, Melody wasn't a child anymore.
"Melody, do you ever regret leaving the club?"
Her eyes sized him up again, but this time with empathy. "Best decision I ever made in my life. Why? Now that things are heating up, you getting cold feet?"
Diego took a measured breath. "I just don't know if that's me," he said finally.
She pursed her lips but remained silent. Melody had never told Diego what to do one way or the other. She had never judged him. She probably figured that her life had been more than enough for one person to untangle.
After a moment the two shot glasses clacked together as she picked them up in one hand. She dropped them by the sink and wiped down the bar. "You go to the clubhouse. I'll make the phone call."
Diego nodded slowly. He wouldn't cut and run. The Sons were relying on him and he wouldn't let them down. But the drugs, the guns—Diego didn't want any of that. When the guys returned, he would set things straight with them.
As Diego stood to leave, he remembered one last thing. "And can you call Omar? I don't know where he is and my phone's at the clubhouse."
Melody nodded, another smile playing over her lips. "Why do you do that anyway?"
Diego shrugged. "Maintains the drama."