Gabriel - Jessie Cooke Page 0,28
mistake.
Lear looked at his VP and they seemed to communicate something in their eyes before Newton said, “Rizer! Take the girls and the kid up to the shop and lock it down tight.” Newton looked at Big Mickey then and still talking to Rizer he said, “These fuckers stay outside. If they put a hand on anyone, shoot them, between the eyes.” Big Mickey didn’t flinch. He waited for the three women and the boy to be rounded up by “Rizer” and then tossed his head at Tiny. They were all almost to the door when Blackheart said:
“Where’s Love?”
Lear chuckled. “You worried my old lady’s gonna show up and take your fucking Cajun ass out?”
“Where is she?”
“She ain’t here. She went back to the house a few hours ago.” Blackheart looked at one of the prospects, a young guy they called Buck.
“Last house at the end of the road on the right. Make sure she’s there.” Lear started to stand up, but Lowlife was behind him with his gun suddenly pressed to the president’s head. Every other gun in the place was suddenly either on Lowlife or Lear, depending on whose colors they were wearing.
“Leave my old lady out of this,” Lear said.
“He won’t touch her, as long as she behaves.” He nodded at Buck and said, “Just make sure she stays put.”
Buck took off then and seconds later they heard the rumble of his Harley. When the noise died down Lear said, “What the fuck do you want?” There were about seven Mad Men in the club to the Jokers’ half a dozen, but with Big Mickey and Tiny up at the shop with their women and Buck on Love, Lear had enough sense to know that if bullets started flying, his club would easily be wiped out by half in seconds...its two leaders included.
“Gregor,” Blackheart said. “I want that piece of shit, the one you allow to go around beating and raping women.”
Lear frowned and looked over at Gregor. Can he possibly not know what his men have done? Blackheart’s guys weren’t always well-behaved, but he damned sure knew when he had a monster in his midst and as soon as he did, that kutte was gone...and more often than not, the monster ended up in the ashes alongside of it. “What’s he talking about?” Lear asked Gregor. The ugly biker scowled at Blackheart and then looking back at his president he said:
“Same bullshit as those little fuckers that beat up Pinky and tried to take out Sam and Gouda at that bar a few weeks ago were trying to say. One of their little bitches got herself fucked up and she’s pointing fingers at us. Bunch of bullshit.” Le Singe took a step toward Gregor but a simple hand motion from his president stopped him. If they did this right, they could get out of there with Gregor in tow and no shots fired, and that was how Blackheart wanted it. He could tell by the look on Lear’s face, that’s what he was hoping too.
“What’s she saying they did?” Lear asked.
Blackheart didn’t answer him, instead he took out his phone and pulled up a photo. He handed it to Le Pirate who carried it, guns all trained on him, over to Lear. He held it out and Blackheart watched Lear’s face when he looked at it, and the other man didn’t so much as flinch. Instead he looked at Blackheart and said, “A picture can tell a thousand different stories.”
“I’ll tell you the true one,” Blackheart said. “This young lady got off her shift at the club and was on her way home, to her babies. One of your asshole men, the one called Pinky, had come on to her earlier in the evening and she’d turned him down. Him and three of his friends, Gregor, Sam, and Gouda, were waiting for her and tried to follow her home. This young lady is smart, and she realized she was being followed before she led them to her house where another young lady was babysitting her two eight-year-old children. She stopped at the end of the street and sent a text to her boyfriend, one of my guys. He was over an hour away. By the time he got there, she’d all but crawled up the street to her home and he found her on the front porch, like that,” he said, nodding at the phone with the picture on it again. It was a pitiful sight: