For Your Sake (34 page)

“Yeah’s right, darlin’,” he said, tossing the lavender lace aside, then descending his head between her knees, slowly…..ever so slowly working his way up.  “God, Eva.  You……”

You’ve got to be kidding?

Ben bolted up and went for the ringing cell in his cut pocket.  Now? 
Now?
  Of all fucking times,
now
?  Eva sat up and pulled her legs in, watching the frustration unfold on his face as he took the call.  “Yeah?” He paused to listen to who was on the other end, that look of burdened frustration returning.  “I’ll be there in fifteen.” 

Closing his phone, he looked down at her and she never felt more uncomfortable in her life.  “Really?  You have to go?”

He began to put his outerwear back on.  “Emergency call with the other charters.”

Eva reached for her pants and slid them on.  Screw the underwear. Why bother?  “Ben, is….?”

His arm came out, pulling her forward by the back of the neck and gave her a hard kiss.  “We’ll talk when I get back.”

             
She rubbed her arms in front of the fire as he found his keys.  “I’ll have dinner waiting.”

              Giving her one more kiss, he leered.  “I rather have
you
waiting.”

~~~***~~~

             
It was close to eight p.m. and the only revelation the conference call gleaned was that the Skulls could be fucked.  Or…..not.  Ben loathed nothing more than gray areas.  It was yes or no.  In or out.  Do or don’t.  He didn’t want to wait around to ‘see what happens’ – he was the kind of man who needed to know if it was happening or not.  So he could plan.  Prepare.  Walking on eggshells while looking over his shoulder didn’t sit well.  But there wasn’t a choice here.  And coming out and asking Emilio Santagio if he was gunning for the Skulls was clearly not a solution.  For all his grandiose bragging, Emilio wouldn’t give his possible target a heads up.

              The club departed church and spilled into the main area before splitting off.  Several girls were waiting, knowing these men were going to be in serious need of de-stressing.  Doug drowned himself with his usual two favorites and Taz settled for just one.  Young Wes didn’t indulge, instead went into his techno-domain to continue working with the other three intel officers on locking down the whereabouts of Emilio’s men. 

              Aero and Tanner shared shots at the bar before the younger man departed to go home to his ol’ lady and kid.  Vic and Ben joined the V.P. as an inked and pierced female poured behind the bar.  Seeing the camaraderie, Doug ditched his two bitches and joined in before Taz did the same.  The five men lifted shot glasses, filled with the Glenfiddich scotch Aero snagged from Ticker.  “We see this till the end and don’t back down,” Vic said.  “We’ll make it through, gentlemen.  We’re Mountain Skulls.  Tough as the ledge this state’s name for.”

              At first, Ben thought it sounded corny, but it was true.  Other than minor altercations, the Skulls kept a tight lid on their activities, not having to deal with this type of threat level.  And a threat to them was a threat to this small town which would be filled with outsiders in a few weeks looking to spend their money here.  It was hard enough quieting the after-effects of the warehouse shoot-out.  How would they handle mafia opening fire in the center of Tippitt?  Shit?

              “Yo, we got company.”  Tanner was panting as he ran back in after having left.  “Car at the gate.”

              Every man reached for their piece.  “What kind?” Vic asked.

              “Looks like a Mercedes.  Gray or silver.  Flood lights shinin’ right down on it.  A driver and one man in the back seat.  Don’t look like Emilio or any of his guys.”

              After calling for Wes, all seven Skulls spilled outside onto the gravel driveway and down towards the gate.  A man had emerged from the backseat – old school hat and beige trench, his hands up in the air. “I’m unarmed, gentlemen.  My driver
and
I.  I’m here to speak to your president, Vic Connors. Fifteen minutes of your time, please.”

              This man’s face didn’t ring a bell as he stood there in calm surrender.  Even the driver had his hands up as well.  Seven men pointing guns at you would do that. Vic looked him over.  He was either a PI, Fed or……. “Who sent you?” Vic asked, edging close to the gate.

              “Please, Mr. Connors.  I prefer not to shout my business through your gate.”

              Nodding Taz and Tanner forward, Vic jerked his head towards the hood of the car.  “On the driver.  You see his hands at all times – got me?”  When they agreed, he whistled for the prospects to drag open the gate enough for the man to slip through.  “Hands, sir,” Vic warned.  “Search ‘im, Doug.”

              The sergeant did a quick sweep then nodded.  “Clean, pres.”

              “I wouldn’t lie to you, Mr. Connors.”

              “Forgive my lack of manners and trust.  Until I know who you are, who sent you and why you’re here, I don’t have much of either.”  The man removed his hat and they all got a clear look of his face.  Clean shaven. Olive skin twinged by age.  Fifties.  Black hair ribboned with silver and stylishly groomed.  He stood confident and unafraid, like a man who’d been in this position before.  He was either someone of power or associated with one.  “Let me get this out in the open,” Vic said.  “Did the Santagios send you?”

              The man politely smiled, then shook his head.  “No Mr. Connors.  Quite the opposite.” 

              Vic looked somewhat relaxed, but not nearly enough.  “I’m giving you
five
minutes.  Make them count.”

              He reached up to straighten the lapels of his coat.  Ben noticed a gold and diamond watch when his sleeve slid back. “Very well.  My name is Antonio Conti.  I’m
consigliere
for
don
Carmine Caprese.  We know of Emilio Santagio’s plans against us –
and
your club.  We have a counter-plan – for both.”

              “Whoa, wait,” Aero stepped forward, his gun lowered.  “A little more info here, friend….”

              “Your boss cut my time in third so you don’t get to ask questions……Captain Sindell.  That was your air force rank, am I correct?”  Antonio didn’t give Aero time to recover from his shock.  If a bunch of outlaw bikers could dig for intel, then the most powerful mafia family on the east coast could get to the center of the earth.  “As I said, we have a plan to eradicate both.  If you’re interested in hearing more,” he slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a card with writing on the back,” be here by midnight – tonight.”

              “Midnight?” Doug asked.  “Where?  What the…..?”

              “I’m not finished.”  Antonio’s voice was adamant, but never raised.  It was clear who was running this short meet.  “There’s one stipulation.”

              “Of course,” Vic muttered, taking the card.

              “Your entire club is welcome, however many you choose to come or not is at your discretion.  I’m only concerned about one person you
must
bring.  If not, the Caprese family will take care of their end with the Santagios and the Skulls will have to handle their own war with them.  Believe me, gentlemen,” he eyed their weapons, “handguns won’t win it.”

              “Who?  Who do you want?” Vic asked.

              “Someone we’ve recently discovered is connected to your club.  That is how we know you can deliver.  A young woman.  Her name is Eva Sinclair.”  Antonio cocked his head to look at Ben.  “I believe you know who I’m referring to……Mr. Lawson, so it shouldn’t be hard.”  Antonio put his hat back on and checked his expensive watch. “My five minutes is up.” He began to walk back to the opened gate.  “You have three and a half hours to make it to the Caprese estate – with the woman. 
Not
negotiable.”

              What?  Eva?  He wanted Eva?  What?  For what?  Ben’s mind went haywire as he holstered his gun and ran to the gate just before the driver exited to open the back door for Antonio.  “Why?  Why do you want her?”

              “I don’t, Mr. Lawson.
Don
Caprese does.  She’s his daughter.”

Chapter Twenty

              It was an answer to the club’s prayers and his worst nightmare.

              As if Satan were nipping at his heels, Ben took off on his bike towards home.  No, not
his
home.  Eva’s home.  Eva Sinclair.  Eva Sinclair-
Caprese
.  Bitch.  Lying bitch.  She kept this from him.  Thank God he never dropped the Santagio name – or any other specifics for that matter - but the fact she knew the club’s problems were connected to a mafia family was more than enough.  She was smart.  Sharp – and figured things out rather fast.  Was she secretly getting the drop on what was going down and bringing the information to her father – the fucking biggest
don
on the east coast?  Carmine Caprese could wipe out the Santagio family five times over with just a nod of his head.  Was Eva using the club –using
him
– to get intel to aid her father’s threat against his heroin empire? 

              No. It couldn’t be.  There had to be a mistake.  She wouldn’t lie to him.  Wouldn’t hold back anything from him – not after the conditions he delivered to her several weeks ago:

             
“I need to be able to trust you.  You got anything you think I need to know, don’t keep it from me.  Just like what you overheard at Ticker.  I’m a pretty easy, going guy – but make no mistake, Eva.  I draw the line at betrayal.”

              He hit the throttle, accelerating his bike faster than he should down the side roads.  All that came back to him was that night he met her, the night he dispatched a bullet into the back of his sister’s head.  Déjà vu was coming back to haunt him.  A woman who betrayed him and a frantic bike ride afterwards.

              He let out an anguished roar until his lungs were sore, accelerating his bike at the same time for the pipes to drown him out.  This couldn’t be happening again.  Even Vic warned him before he left:

             
“Please tell me you didn’t know this, brother?”

              “I swear, Vic.  I swear I didn’t.”

              “What did you tell her?”

              He had confessed to Vic what he had told Eva, hoping they were vague enough to satisfy his president. 
“You better hope she don’t figure your code out or else we’re gonna have a repeat performance starring you, a bitch locked in the body shop and a silencer.  Do I make myself clear, Ben?”

              Ben was sick when he pulled up in front of the Victorian.  He left over three hours ago feeling as if this was his home too.  Now it, and the woman inside, was a stranger to him.  He was a Skull.  An enforcer.  The club’s executioner. It came first.  Always first.  Whatever the price for peace, he’d deliver it – even if it cost him the woman he fell in love with.  Damn the fucking blue-eyed bitch to hell!

              He pulled his bike up the driveway, leaving it there this time.  The van would be coming for them as soon as he confirmed he had her and she was ready.  If he had to drag her buck naked out of the house, he would.  He didn’t care.  He was so livid at this point, everything that happened prior to Antonio Conti revealing Eva was Carmine-
fucking- Caprese’s daughter was irrelevant.

             
“Eva!”
  He yelled, but kept his anger in check.  Not until he confronted her.  He was saving his true self for that. 

              “Upstairs,” she called out.  Two at a time he took them as he heard splashing sounds coming from the bathroom.  Inside, she was stepping out of the claw foot tub, steam still rising from the water level, her skin wet and pink as she fastened a towel across her chest.  She froze when she saw him stand in the doorway, swallowing up the opening with his size, his eyes hot on her.  “Oh shit.  What happened?  Was it your call?”

              “You ask a lot of questions, Eva.”  He made sure that dripped with sarcasm.  “And I’ve answered a lot.  Maybe too much.”

              She tightened the towel around her, edging towards the tub.  Away from him. “Ben, what’s wrong?”

              “Again, more questions.”  He slowly walked in, the bathroom big enough to where they could circle each other.  “Time for me to ask some, darlin’.  Actually, one in particular.”

              Eva looked completely dumbfounded and…..scared.  Good.  If what Antonio Conti said was true, she should be.  She better be frightened out of her skin.  “What?”

              “Who are you?”

              “What?  Are you kidding me…..?”

              In milliseconds, he had her by the arms and up against the bathroom wall.  Her skin from the hot bath warming his fingers as he dug in tighter than he would’ve liked.  He was a man of control.  Always was.  Always had to be.  Losing his shit in his position resulted in messy results.  But there was more at stake here.  His pride was on the line, not to mention how he looked in the club’s eyes after the fuck-up with his sister.  He could hear it in Vic’s voice, his disappointment that he let, yet another, bitch in too far and said too much.  “Do I look like I’m kidding, Eva?”