Page 163 of Fury

“She sounded upset,” said Krystal. “And real determined. She said it’s life and death. I know that girl wouldn’t ask if—”

“Tell her yes,” I said.

Jill came racing down from South Dakota with her daughter. Krystal brought her to my office, and she told me Boner was missing. She suspected he’d gone to see Alejandro Calderón on his own. Turns out Boner used to be part of Calderón’s Denver gang over twenty years ago, and Calderón was after him for some old vendetta.

“Maybe my coming here is wrong and against the rules,” said Jill, her face flushed, “and I’ll get punished for it by the Jacks and you, but I had to try. I had to. I love Boner, he’s a good man. I know, from the years I spent with the Flames, that if anyone could do something to save him, it would be you.”

Calderón was gunning for the Broken Blades, and now he was using Boner as some sort of sacrifice to his vengeful gods to get the winds of war blowing? Did he think that would make us all shudder in our boots as he marched into the Broken Blades’s territory like some usurping fascist swallowing more and more territory?

Fuck no. Not on my watch.

It was time to blow this shit sky high and shut it down. Now with their brother in danger, the Jacks would appreciate any move I’d make, and that would tie them to me for a long time to come. I needed that. I wanted that.

Jill said that Butler and the Jacks were on the hunt for Boner. She also assured me she and Catch were over their crap and she’d taken his previous threats with a grain of salt.

“Finger, I brought my daughter here today to see her dad and her other family as a show of good faith. I want to believe that all the bullshit can be wiped clean. I want to believe that we can start fresh and be fair, for all our sakes and for the good of our clubs.”

Sitting stiffly on the other side of my desk, she waited for my response. Any response. She was worried. She’d come all the way here on her own and taken a chance on me listening to her for the good of our clubs.

“I owe Boner one,” I said.

Her eyes lit up, her back straightened. “You do?”

“That shit with the Python.”

“Right.” She licked her lips. “Well, maybe Mishap could be given a new target?”

Ah, Boner was a lucky man.

A hard knock and Catch stood in the doorway. “Finger, two of Calderón’s men followed Jill here from Meager.”

I would make my move in a memorable way. Blunt, definitive. But oblique.

Over the years, Turo had introduced me to a number of white collar men in high places—not only in his world, but in the finer stratospheres of politics and law and order. I didn’t use these contacts often, only when absolutely appropriate and absolutely necessary. I would do it now for the preservation of my territory, my trade, and most importantly, the brotherhood.

I pressed my back into my thick leather chair. “I got calls to make.”

Jill shot up from her seat, her knot of strawberry blonde hair bobbing on her head. “Thank you for seeing me.” She darted out of my office.

I stared after her. The girl had taken a risk coming here, back to her hostile ex and his club in order to protect her new old man from a common enemy. She’d smelled danger and did something about it.

Holding Becca in one arm, Krystal put her other arm around Jill and led her into the clubroom, Catch at their side.

Loyalty. Family. Flames to the end.

The end had come for Calderón and Notch. I picked up my phone and dialed, my pulse buzzing.

Laying the fuses.

Setting my prairie on fire.

47

Beck was eighteen going onthirty, I loved to tease him. He was extremely passionate about music and extremely focused. Beck had done really well at his arts high school, and made a variety of contacts there and at the clubs he and his friends frequented, and of course through his dad. He made the most of the possibilities before him. He filled in for different bands and played at recording sessions as both a guitarist and a drummer. He wrote music with friends, and mentored to an award-winning songwriter who worked with country as well as a number of alternative rock musicians. He hung with a few kids of famous rock and rollers. Now Beck fronted his own band, Freefall, and was determined to do well. My boy was high on life, and I was high on that. So high.

This time, I’d stayed longer than expected in California. Freefall was playing a number of small venues and a couple of music festivals as well. Their release of two digital singles had been very popular. Their social media presence was proving to be a huge success, and they’d attracted a promoter who was barely twenty-one years old himself, a savvy publicist with plenty of crazy yet right on the money ideas. The music scene was a whole new ballgame from Eric’s day.

Beck was making some money now, and his dad helped set him up in his own place which freaked me out a little, but also made me insanely proud. I stayed with him at his new small house for almost two months, helping him choose furniture, decorating, organizing, meeting his friends and bandmates. I kept busy. A very attractive record producer friend of Eric’s asked me out, and we went out on a couple of drink and dinner dates. I took the time to meet up with a number of old clients and, with Kelly’s help, got a few new ones for custom orders. Kelly and I hung out and brainstormed together on my makeup line idea.

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