to Ouray the moment he parks his bike. Even though the Amontinados are firmly on the wrong side of the law, the ties with Manny go back many years, since he was a brother with the Arrow’s Edge. He didn’t like the turn Ouray was taking the club in after he took the gavel and took the optional patch out given at the time.
Only two other guys chose to opt out. There definitely was animosity, and I don’t have a clue where those two ended up, but over the years things have settled some with Manny Salinas.
“Red ain’t coming,” he announces.
“Why the fuck not?”
“Heat showed up late yesterday. One of his guys was found dead. Remember Scottie? Had that restored ’48 Panhead?”
“Crash?” Ouray wants to know.
Manny shakes his head. “No, man. Someone offed him ugly.”
“Fuck!”
He pulls out his phone and starts walking toward the edge of the parking lot, where he starts pacing back and forth.
I turn to Manny.
“What happened?”
“Red couldn’t get hold of any of y’all so he called me. All I know is Scotty was found filleted in an apartment in Durango, and he needed to talk to Ouray. Red sounded wrecked.”
My mind immediately goes to Lissie. With the limited number of murder cases we have in Durango, I have no doubt this is the case she is working on. She never said anything other than it had been a bad scene, and from what Manny described it must’ve been.
“Let’s get the fuck checked in,” Ouray barks as he approaches. “I want all my guys in my room in twenty minutes.”
No one argues as he stalks right by us into the lobby.
Twenty minutes later, we’re all crammed into Ouray’s room. Standing room only. Between checking in and getting my gear in the room I’m gonna be sharing with Paco, I’d barely had time to shoot Lissie a quick message to let her know we got here in one piece.
“Okay, everyone shut the fuck up. This is gonna be short and sweet, and I don’t feel like yelling or repeating myself.” Ouray’s deep voice carries, even when he’s not trying, and a hush falls over the room. “Scottie Clarkson, one of Red’s guys, was found dead early yesterday morning. He’d been tortured, beaten, stabbed, and had his throat slashed.”
Immediately a rumble of shocked voices goes up in the room.
“Shut it!” Kaga barks.
“Scottie was working on something for Red and me. We think that may be what go him killed.”
He goes on to explain how they formed Red Mesa Holdings and invested in the Wildcat Canyon Development because of the ANL’s connections to the project. I can tell some of the guys are as pissed as I was, like Paco, whose glare is aimed at him.
“That’s bullshit.”
Ouray’s head snaps around. “I’d fucking do it again. We’re in the business of looking out for kids and that was the objective here. The less people knew what we were up to, the better, and the fact Scottie’s dead only proves that. However,” he adds looking around the room. “It’s possible there’ll be more violence, so I need you all to be on alert. Also keep an eye out for another one of Red’s guys, Sparky Spengler, he’s missing.”
We disperse after that, but I notice Paco and Kaga hanging back. I almost go back in, but realize I’m no longer part of the chief’s counsel. By my own design.
“Hungry?” I turn to find Trunk waiting for me. “Some of the guys are hitting up the buffet in the casino.”
“Sure.”
The casino is loud; the sound penetrates the segregated restaurant. Buffet food is mediocre at best, and this one is no exception. I mostly listen as my brothers talk, and sip water while they toss back beer.
“You’re quiet,” Trunk says beside me. “Any regrets?”
I shrug. “Nah, it’s an adjustment, that’s all. I was just thinking this kind of thing used to be a lot more fun before.”
“You mean before sobriety,” he aptly concludes. “Having trouble?”
“No,” I answer, holding back the ‘not yet’ that was on the tip of my tongue.
Half an hour later in the casino bar, those words come back to me when the third person gives me a hard time for not taking the drink they offer. Not my brothers, they know better. It’s the guys I’ve shared many a bottle with over the years, and sometimes more than that.
“What the fuck is wrong with ya?” Bones, a guy from one of the clubs we used to ride with, taunts me after I