Page 50 of Caution to the Wind

“And naturally any mention of a hooker would refer to Kate?” I asked woodenly, even though I knew Rooster. He’d got his club name for a reason. The man liked to drag out his stories ’til everyone was hangin’ on to every word and dole out information sparingly so you had to rely on him. He was a cocky piece of shit who always wanted the attention on him.

Not a great trait for a criminal if you asked me, but no one ever did.

“Well that’s just it, seems the White Snake was connected to your wife. The guy mentioned that he cut this bitch to pieces withdaoswords at a fuckin’ summer festival.”

Bile rose so quickly to the back of my throat, I almost couldn’t stop myself from hurlin’ on the table. Who the hell was this White Snake associated with Kate? I knew she’d done work with Kasper Kuan, but he was as Chinese as they came, and the name implied the soldier was a white man.

Had Kate been having…an affair?

I couldn’t believe it. Not ’cause we had a passionate physical relationship, but ’causewe didn’t. After the sexual abuse and mutilation she’d experienced at the hands of her pimp, Jimmie Page, and her clients, Kate was not only terrified of sexual acts, she still had lingerin’ pain that made it basically impossible for her to become aroused even if she’d wanted to. We’d had an arrangement where I could take care of my needs discreetly, but I never spent the night with another woman or saw one more than once.

Despite that, Kate and I had loved each other in a way that had saved each of our lives. I’d been depressed and alone after bein’ discharged from the army, workin’ myself into some kinda early grave at the hospital like fucked-up penance for the lives I’d taken ’til she and Cleo gave me focus and a reason to live. And Kate had been so deep in the pits of hell, she’d forgotten to hope for anythin’ else. The bond between us was unusual, hell yeah, but it was deeper than blood.

So, an affair? It was unfathomable.

“You don’t look convinced,” Rooster noted. “Well, let me tell you this. When Hazard got his hands on him in the back alley, the bastard admitted there’d even been a kid there. He thought she’d probably died that night too.”

Mei.

Fuck.

Immediately, my mind’s eye conjured the image of Mei barely fuckin’ standin’, clutchin’ a Chinesedaosword in both hands while a shard of bone protruded from one arm and blood poured from her head and nose. Even bloody, even broken, she’d found the will to stand in front of Kate and try to defend her.

My heart turned over in my chest like an engine tryin’ to restart.

“It was him.” The words dropped from me like a stone, heavy and sure.

Rooster’s grin was a slow, mean curve of his thin mouth. “It was him, brother. And tonight, you get your chance to confront the motherfucker.”

The heavy silver rings on my right handclick-clickedagainst the tabletop as I drummed my fingers to release some of the energy coilin’ inside me.

“Where?”

“There’s a party tonight at Turner Farm. I was gonna send Dunkirk and Whitey to distribute, but I figure you ought’a go, too.”

You’d think a former army man would have a problem with drug dealin’, law-breakin’, and general outlaw culture, but the truth was, motorcycle clubs drew a lot of disenchanted army vets into their ranks. We knew how to follow orders and enjoyed a sense of structure, but we’d lost sight a long fuckin’ time ago of what we were fightin’ for, and our own financial or, in my case, personal, gain was as good a reason as any to get our hands dirty. Lord knew they’d never be clean again after what we’d been told to do overseas.

And then there was the simple fact that once you’ve been to war, you never really come back. A part of you was always lookin’ for the next fight, itchin’ for some kinda violence to let some of the steam outta the pot.

So I didn’t have a problem with the illegal nature of what The Fallen did. I just didn’t like how goddamn stupid they were about it.

“I’ve told you, we need outside dealers,” I reminded him. “It’s too fuckin’ hairy gettin’ caught with our own product on the streets. Especially at a damn party with frat boys and girls with parents waitin’ for them to come home for curfew.”

“We got product to move, don’t give a fuck how it’s moved, but it’s gotta go,” he grunted.

“It’s too hot to sell triad shit in Calgary. I thought we were outsourcin’ it to other chapters?” There was a pause, and the truth dawned on me. “Fuck, no one else wants to take on the heat.”

My prez glared at me, but I ignored it and pressed, “We own our lane. We’re good there. Why merge into a different lane and risk everythin’ with a collision?”

“Fancy fuckin’ degree makes you think you’re smarter than me, huh, Axe?” he hissed, blowin’ smoke out through his teeth like an angry bull.

I didn’t say anythin’, but that was answer enough for him.

Rooster scowled at me and then slowly, eyes fixed to mine, lowered his cherry-ended cigar onto my hand where it lay on the table. I didn’t move away, and I didn’t flinch when the burnin’ end pressed into the knuckle of my pinkie. The sizzle and pop of dissolvin’ flesh was followed by the stink of burnt hair and skin.

He was a man of creativity only when it came to belittlin’ the men in the club. I’d once seen him shove a prospect’s face into a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk outside the clubhouse and piss on a brother’s sleepin’ face in a bunk room after he slept with a groupie Rooster’d wanted for himself.

“You keep talkin’ back to me, Axe, I won’t see fit to help you with this little vendetta you got against the Asian pricks, you hear me?” he threatened before finally liftin’ the cigar off my hand.