Page 64 of Blackout

Chapter Twenty-two

BLACKIE

The searing pain in my shoulder forces my eyes open. As a man who has been knocked down, beat up and shot more times than I care to count, I shouldn’t fucking flinch at shit like this anymore, but experience doesn’t deter the fire spreading from my scapula to my bicep. Groaning, I turn to my right and spot Lacey curled next to me. I stare at her for a minute, recalling the pained expression on her face when she walked in and saw Celeste removing the bullet and the forgiveness that later replaced it when she crawled into bed with me.

The pain shoots down to my fingers crippling me and I quickly tear my eyes away from Lacey. Drawing in a deep breath, I count backward from ten and focus on the ceiling fan spinning above me. The memory of the paramedic hanging from the center flashes before my eyes, haunting me and before I can help it, I relive every fucking miserable event that’s happened in the last few weeks.

The sound of the paramedic’s plea to die laces with the cries of Yankovich’s children and finally both melodies meld with the Spanish undertones of Javier and his men, creating a symphony of tragedy. If death and destruction had a soundtrack, I’m sure this is what it would sound like. Desperate to escape the ghosts of Satan’s past and the chorus raging in my head, I bite back the pain and carefully swing my legs over the side of the bed. The throbbing pain forces me to remain seated and my fingers flex against the edge of the mattress as the tragic song playing in my head reaches a crescendo.

Suddenly, I’m not in this death ridden cabin. I’m in the paper factory, facing off against the Sinaloa Cartel. My gun fires twice, taking out two of Javier’s players. Then, from the corner of my eye, I see him lift two guns. He points one at me and the other at Jack. Inebriated from the alcohol I consumed and the pills I snorted, I get off to a slow start, but I still jump in front of Jack. One bullet ricochets off the wall, and the other pierces me. I go down and my gun slips from my fingers.

No one picks it up.

Not me.

Not Jack.

No one.

The ringing phone on the nightstand drags me away from the horror replaying in my head and I reach for it. Accepting the call, I lift the phone to my ear and drag myself off the bed.

“Hello?” I whisper as I make my way out of the room.

“Oh, thank god,” Reina cries into the line. “Blackie, I don’t know what to do. They arrested Jack and Pipe…they arrested everyone!”

“Reina, Reina, slow down.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“First of all, where are you calling me from?”

“It’s secure, Jack gave it to me earlier when he left me at your house and took Lacey to be with you.”

“Why did he leave you at my house?”

“To throw the cops off in case they came looking for you guys,” she exasperates. “Listen, that’s not important. They arrested him! He was at the hospital with the rest of the guys showing their support for Wolf and Maria, and they arrested them. Anthony Bianci is on his way here to take me down to the precinct, but the lawyer is already down there, and Jack is refusing legal counsel.”

“What are the charges?”

“I don’t even know. Everyone was talking so fast. Something about two counts of murder and guns. I don’t know,” she stammers. “Blackie, he’s off his meds. The fact he’s refusing to speak to a lawyer scares me.”

Beads of sweat start to flare at my temples.

“Listen to me, you need to get in touch with one of the guys,” I say pressing my hand to my forehead. “Linc and Stryker were the last to leave here. Maybe they didn’t go to the hospital.”

“What am I telling them? He’s not going to talk to them.”

“Reina, I fucked up,” I confess, pulling my hand away from my face. “I dropped my gun and I don’t remember anyone picking it up. I don’t know if I blacked out or what, but you need to call one of the guys and send them back to the paper factory to retrieve it before the cops do. If they get their hands on that gun that puts us at the scene. Do you understand me?”

“What if they already have it?”

We’re fucked if they have the gun.

Completely fucked and there’s no one else to blame but me.

“Blackie, are you there?” The desperate way she calls my name snaps me back to reality and instead of playing the martyr, I focus on what I can do to help the mess I’ve caused.

“You said Anthony’s picking you up? Have him call Wolf.” The man’s got an alibi, so they probably didn’t arrest him and if they did, they have to let him go. If anyone knows what to do, it’s him. He might not have his patch or want much to do with the club these days, but brotherhood is embedded in his soul and he won’t let this ship sink.

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