Tarnished Steel (6 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cynthia felt that the rest of Saturday was just as they had planned and everything she hoped for. The ride up the coast was wonderful. In Oceanside, near the pier, they found one of the little cottage places for rent. The man was happy to rent it for two days.

“Two? You want to spend Sunday as well?” she asked him.

“I thought the option would be nice to have,” Hank told her. “We don’t have to stay, but at least we can sleep in as long as we please.”

She nodded her head. “Nice, I like sleeping in. Well, I like the thought of sleeping in. I don’t seem to do much of it these days.”

“What do you seem to do these days?” he asked as they emptied their saddle bags and brought in food, bottles, cheeses, and breads.

She looked around. The cottage was a single room with a small bath behind a door. It was a very small bath, in fact, and there would be no showering together here. She checked the bed, seeing as most of their playtime would be spent there, and found the mattress surprisingly good.

“Well,” she started in answer to his question, “I work a lot. I try to make it down to the club at least three or four times a week to get out of the house and to see my friends — Daphne most of all, though I talk with her on the phone every day, sometimes more.”

“Daphne?” he asked, and then added, “As in Derrick and Daphne?”

“Yeah, that’s them. I’m not that fond of Derrick, but Daphne’s my best friend. What’s that look? You’re looking all browbeaten and stuff,” she observed.

He looked around the cottage, which had really no room to pace. “Can we take a walk?”

“Yeah, let’s go out on the pier,” she suggested. “I take it there’s some bad blood between you and Derrick. Doesn’t surprise me. There seems to be bad blood between the club and Derrick sometimes.”

As they walked further out over the ocean, Hank told her the story that had begun four years ago. “So, yeah, I left him. It was that or murder a cop, because she had him. He was pinned under his bike by his leg with a shot gun in his face, and his bike was pinned under her car.”

“So, he got arrested and wound up doing two years and you got off with the cash,” she summed up.

“He didn’t have to do the two years, and all of the cash I put on his prison books, along with five grand of my own money that I was going to use for his bail. But he fucked that up, too,” Hank told her.

“How?”

“Larry and I, we go down to the bail hearing. We’re expecting at the max they are going to give him $100k bail, so the bond is ten grand. We got the bondsman with us, another member, Gary. So all three of us are there and they bring Derrick in, who’s talking under his breath.

“Larry goes up to represent him, and he gives out the spiel that Derrick has close ties to the community, he’s part owner of a shop. He’s only been arrested once, six years ago for drug possession. But Larry is so good at this he makes even that sound like it’s nothing and happened in the Dark Ages.

“Then DA, she gets up and hands Larry a transcription of Derrick’s interview with the detectives, and then passes a copy to the judge,
and she says: ‘And I quote, “As soon as I’m bailed out of here, I’m getting my share and heading to Mexico.

"Fuck the bros, and the hoes, I’m done. I’m going to Mexico and never coming back,” end quote. So, your honor, since he swears he isn’t going to make his court date, and that he has a share coming from the robbery, practically admitting not only guilt but guilt without remorse, I ask the court to make the bail five million dollars, or not offer it at all.’”

“Seriously?” Cyn said, looking at him. “Derrick told that to two detectives, while being interviewed about the robbery. That is so fucking insane!”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Hank told her. “Even with that, Larry is sure he can get him off completely, if Derrick will just shut the fuck up. ‘Don’t say anything to anyone else!’ But then Larry gets the rest of the transcript from the detectives. And it’s impossible. Derrick admits, several times, to them that the plan was his and that his partner would never have even got a dime out of this sweet deal if Derrick didn’t trust him, and the cocksucker left him behind.”

Hank looked out at the ocean.

“He rolled you?” she said with a gasp.

“No, not once. He did described me, dark hair and green eyes, spider tattoo on the neck. He tells them what kind of bike I ride. He tells them his club isn’t going to stand for this shit. He all but tells them where the clubhouse is, but he never mentions names, or the club name, or actually tells them where the club is. It’s fucking obvious, of course, because there is no other bar near that area, and the detectives come out several times, looking for me, or someone who is tall with dark hair and green eyes who rides a blue Lowrider. But they don’t actually know my name.”

“What did Knight do?”

“Oh, Knight was furious. He tells me to call for tribunal, and he’ll take care of the rest, but even though I know there was nothing I could do for him, I still have this guilt, ya know? So, I don’t call, and I never saw Knight more angry at me before. I explained to him, if they take his patch now, there’s no telling what he’ll say in there. The patch is the only thing restraining him from names, dates, and marks. ‘And just how many jobs is he aware of?’ I ask Knight. It takes him a bit, but he calms down and nods his head, and says fine.”

“But as soon as he is out, you start making yourself scarce,” she notes. “From what I gathered last night, you’ve been leaving for two months, three months, at a time, and this last one has been eight months.”

“Well, yeah,” he nods, “but not because of Derrick. I’ve just discovered that I love to ride long roads.”

“Nothing to do with him at all,” she pressed.

“Nope, not at thing.”

“So, you’re not feeling mad or guilty about any of this anymore?” she asked.

“Nope, feeling just merry with it.”

“So when he starts his bullshit some time when we go back to the club—”

“I’ll kick the shit out of him,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“What about tribunal?”

He looked away and out to sea with a look in his eye like he might have been wondering if sailing was anything like riding a bike. “No, no tribunal. Not from me. He’s a sick man. Something broke in him. He wasn’t always like this — well, not this bad. Not this arrogant, and certainly not this stupid. Something broke when I rode away.”

“Something that you didn’t break,” she told him, putting her hand on his chest.

He gave her a smile and a nod but didn’t say anything. She wrapped her arms around him, wishing that there was some way to heal this wound, some way known to her.

Over ten minutes passed before he said, “You know, in chess, it is possible to make every move perfectly and still lose the game. Doesn’t matter to me that I didn’t do anything
wrong
. I want to know what I could have done
right
, or what there is to do now.”

“At this moment, the right thing to do is take me back to the cottage for rumpus sex. After that, we can check out that sushi place I can see from here, and then we’ll have some more sex. How’s that sound?” she asked, rubbing her hand across his chest, loving the feel of him.

“Sounds like words of wisdom to me,” he said with a smile. “I really hope you and Daphne can see your way past Derrick and I.”

“I’m sure we will,” she said with a grin.

CHAPTER
NINE

After a sweet, relaxing weekend, they rode back together to Lakeside and then down the road to where her house was.

Hank followed up to that point and gave her a kiss. “Think I’ll go home and change, get in some pool table time. Dust off some things as well. Want to meet up and head for the club at about eight?”

“That would really be good. It will give me a chance to catch back up on some things,” she agreed.

“You worked like a demon yesterday for four hours in that cafe,” he reminded her.

“That was catching up for Friday, but this is Monday, lover, a whole new world in the work force,” she teased.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, and happy I don’t. See you about eight,” he told her, and he kissed her again.

He pulled out, crossed the street, and zipped between the fence posts onto the dirt track leading to his house, a little rooster tail of dirt curving up behind him. As soon as he pulled up to his house, she skipped up to her porch and went inside her own, feeling like life was new.

She wanted to call Daphne and tell her all about her weekend of sex, sushi, and sleep, but she wasn’t sure that telling her that Hank was her lover over the phone was a good idea. But then, maybe ambushing her with it at the club out in public wasn’t that great of an idea either.

After several minutes of thought, she decided she would tone down the wondrous sex part and give her friend the heads up.

“Hey Daphne, how you doing?”

“Alright, considering. What you been up to?”

“I just got back from a weekend with Hank,” she said, jumping right in.

“Hank Park?” Daphne asked.

“Yes, Hank Park.”

“You should break that off. The man has no balls and is dirty as hell,” she told her flatly.

“Hank told me the whole story, all the way to the point where Derrick tells the courts, ‘Fuck the bros and the hoes,’ the hoes being you and me. But that shit is four years old, Daphne, and I’m really hoping it’s not going to fuck with things between you and me. I love you.”

“Hell, fuck what he did four years ago, Cyn. How about what he’s been doing for the last eight months?” Daphne said.

“What’s that?”

“He’s running drugs for the cartel, and not just any cartel. He’s running it for fucking Orlin Ruiz of all fucking people, which shows he could care less about this club, its people, or what we care about, as long as the cash is good. And when he goes down for this, which he will, if you’re with him, with the amounts we’re talking, you’ll be going down too, sister. The man has a rotten fucking core.”

“How do you know this about the cartel? And what makes Orlin so especially bad?” Cyn asked.

“Yeah, you probably don’t know about Howey and Margaret. Before your time. They were long-time members, founding members you might say. Damn cute couple, too. Well, anyway, back nearly a year ago now, when they were selling pot legal in San Diego? You remember that?”

“Yeah, sure, I went and got my green card and everything,” Cyn said.

“Well, Howey and Margaret, they get in real early on that, having great connections and both real good at business, and they open seven stores in prime locations. And bam! They are making money so fast they have to hire people to count it. They hired me to work a counter at one of those stores. Making $20 an hour with them. It was sweet. Most I’ve ever made in my life.”

“Alright, I don’t think I like where this is going,” Cyn said, sitting down on her couch.

“Well, if you are thinking it is going to shit, you’re right. Men from Orlin’s cartel, they come down and tell Howey and Margaret that they are going to buy into their little chain. Howey tells them to fuck off, and Knight sends down shifts of guards to work the stores for them, which seemed to put a stop to it. Except one night, the guard is late coming in for the 8 to 2am shift, and when he gets there, he finds the counter girl killed, Howey gutted, and Margaret raped and killed. Next to her is this little Mexican flag, just to make sure we know who did it and how fast they operate.”

“Ah, shit,” Cyn said putting her hand to her forehead. “So, what did Knight do?”

“He was going to make all the stores club stores, but then the DEA came in and closed all the stores with court orders and 48-hour notices. So it was done. Orlin’s cartel is too big for us to just go to war with. Knight’s pissed, but he can’t add to Howey and Margaret’s deaths by throwing us into a bloodbath, and he tells the club this. But he also promises us that this shit ain’t over.”

“And you think Hank would work for these guys?” Cyn asked.

“Think? Hell no, I
know
he is. Derrick and I saw him two months ago, riding up to the Orlin hacienda with saddle bags full of coke.”

“How did you do that?”

“Derrick spotted him on the freeway, and we followed him.”

“Why haven’t you told Knight about this then?”

“Well, because we really don’t know for sure, sure. And Derrick’s told me to keep it quiet, because he’s going to reap some payback from Hank. So, I haven’t told anyone except for you right now. So, no, I’m not talking about shit four years old. I’m talking about shit yesterday, girl.”

“This is really hard for me to believe, Daphne. Seriously hard. I don’t mean to suggest you’re lying, or anything like that, but … shit.”

“Well, I kind of know what you mean, Cyn,” she confessed. “I’ve sort of been secretly on Hank’s side through all of this. I have to stand by Derrick or leave him, but Derrick gets really stupid when Hank rolls back into town. But after seeing what we saw, with the coke bags and everything, I’m beginning to understand Derrick’s view point about Hank.”

“I can’t make it jell. I can’t see Hank going against the club like that. Not like that. There’s something missing, and it’s a good thing you guys haven’t been passing it around, because this has the smell of something that will blow up in your face.”

“Smells like shit to me,” Daphne told her.

“At least we agree there,” Cyn reasoned.

“Look, Cyn, Hank is back, and that’s what Derrick has been waiting for. If you’re with him when this comes out, you’re going to be driven off, or worse, just like Hank will be. This is seriously personal to the club and everyone in it, Cyn. It’s a huge open wound that we’ve never been able to heal. Just stay away from him for a few days. Can’t you do that?” Daphne pleaded.

Cynthia was quiet, biting her thumbnail and trying to think, trying to put together Hank on his bike and working for the Orlin Ruiz Cartel, after all they did, after Howey and Margaret. “I just can’t. We’re going up to the club tonight, Daphne. I really pray that if Derrick is there, for your sake, this doesn’t backfire on him.”

“I hope you are alright after, too, cause I really love you as well,” Daphne said, and then ended the call.

Her work day seemed shot for an hour after that phone call. Running drugs for Orlin Ruiz seemed to her to be the ultimate betrayal. Just suggesting to the club, or even just another member, that this was going on could be catastrophic to both parties.

Going through her riding purse that had her basic makeup in it, not that she wore much, she found Hank’s small brown glass vial of cocaine. She looked at the powder inside and wondered briefly if it was from Orlin Ruiz. Then she laid out a line and sent it into her brain. The focusing rush pushed all the worries and confusion aside, and she sat at her laptop, put her hair up in a ponytail, and started working like hellhounds were on her trail.

Eight hours flew by, and she was past the point in the novel that she had planned to be at by Thursday. Forcing herself to close the laptop, she set it on her little desk, then opened it again and set the backup system to run, copying all her work to her cloud drive. Then she walked away quickly and into the shower.

It felt like a battle night was brewing, so she chose jeans and a heavy t-shirt with her leather vest, which remained blank on the back. Her knife went on her left hip for a cross-body draw.

Her father taught her the draw, back when she was twelve, and set her to practicing it every day, over and over. Then she practiced it kneeling, and then on one knee, and then sitting cross legged, and then lying down. Over and over, every day, a hundred a day. Draw-slice-defend. Draw-slice-defend. As she drew the knife, she stepped forward, slashing her attacker with the same movement, and then going into her knife fighting stance, which was loose and easy to move from. Ready for anything, from any direction.

Draw-slice-defend.

She performed the movement now, in her room, with satisfying grace and speed. She sincerely hoped that she would not have to use it tonight, or any other night at the club.

She slipped into her thick riding boots just as a knock came at her door.

“Hank?”

“Yeah!”

“Come in, I’ll be right out,” she called, and then looked at herself in the mirror. She wouldn’t ask. No. If Daphne was wrong, it would be a terrible insult, and they just weren’t ready for a hit like that with them just starting out together. She wasn’t sure
when
asking such a question wouldn’t be terribly insulting, but she was sure she had never had a relationship that long so far.

“I talked to Daphne,” she started as she came out of her room. “She’s a bit upset, but I think it was more of a shock than an emotional thing.”

“Did she tell you to run as fast as you could?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Or that was the meaning, anyway.”

“Are you?”

“I invited you in, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and I withdraw the question as being stupid and perhaps a little childish,” Hank told her.

“She also told me a story about a couple who were in the club? Howey and Margaret?” she said, and she headed for the kitchen with her used coffee cup to wash it out, and to escape if escaping was necessary.

While she was running the water, he said, “It just popped up? The anniversary is not for several months.”

“She just said it was important club lore, and that it would help me understand the club and its actions more clearly,” Cyn lied, and then turned around to leave the kitchen.

“Well, she’s right. It is very important to the club, and Knight has not forgotten, nor forgiven. He won’t, either, until he can figure out a method of reprisal, but even then, it won’t be forgive and forget,” Hank mused, his voice thoughtful but with the hint of a storm.

“I think it was me mentioning the cocaine you left for me that sparked the story,” Cyn told him, and without knowing why, she was certain that this man, the one in her living room right now, would never, ever, work for Orlin Ruiz. “Let’s ride, lover,” she said with a smile, and she took his arm.

He kissed her outside, and it felt smooth and strong and honest. He wasn’t hiding anything from her that he might be ashamed of — nothing.

She decided that Derrick and Daphne simply didn’t see what they thought they saw. She wouldn’t go so far as to say Daphne was making it up, but what they saw simply wasn’t right.

The spring air was a bit chilly, and she was glad she had chosen to wear her thick leather jacket. They rode slightly staggered with Hank in front and her following on the other side of the lane. He rode fast, as if he were riding into something and was going to meet it head on.

We are. We are riding into something, and I’m going with him.