Iron Goddess (20 page)

Shea woke to morning light shining through the peach-colored curtains. She lay on her side, sorting out the crazy dreams she had. Motorcycle dreams. Running dreams. Dreams of her sister or maybe it was her mother; she wasn't sure which. Maybe both.

For the first time in days, she felt rested, though it didn't change her circumstances. The darkness and sadness haunted her. The bikes were still missing. If she failed to deliver, Iron Goddess would be ruined. But even if she found them in time, it wouldn't make up for the loss of her sister.

Shea's brain kept coming up with excuses for Wendy not to be dead, insisting it must have been a bad dream. It was dark after all. Maybe it only looked like a fatal wound. Maybe the cops called for an ambulance and she was somewhere in the hospital. But she didn't buy any of it. Wendy was gone.

Shea's thoughts turned to Annie. Was she alive? Was she out of surgery? What would happen to her when she woke up? Would she go back to living with Hunter and the twisted violent world of the MC? How long before she ended up dead like Wendy or Mama?

She sensed movement behind her and rolled over to see Jessica cuddled next to her. Shea wanted to lie in bed forever, hiding from the world, holding on to her girlfriend. But her bladder had other plans.

Shea slipped out of bed and walked out into the hallway to the bathroom. She was surprised to discover she was wearing a pink Tinker Bell nightshirt that came down to her midthighs.
Where'd this come from?
Jessica must have loaned it to her.

After taking care of business, she took a rare look at herself in the mirror. Bruises marked the left side of her face, as well as her arms and legs. She was tired of being the victim of other people's violence. It was time for a change in strategy.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Just a minute.” She washed her hands and opened the door to see Terrance's sixteen-year-old son, Elon, standing there. He was about her height and skinny. “Morning, Elon. I swear every time I see you, you're a foot taller.”

“Aunt Shea?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What're you doing here?”

“Your dad picked me up from the hospital last night. My niece is there.”

He nodded. “You done?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at the kid's singular focus and returned to the bedroom, where Jessica softly snored.

Shea thought about climbing back in bed with her, but she had things to take care of. She pulled on her jeans and boots. The smell of coffee led her down the hall to the kitchen.

Terrance sat at the table reading something on his tablet. A coffeemaker with a half-filled pot sat next to a wooden stand of earthenware mugs.

She poured herself a cup and sat next to Terrance.

“Nice shirt, Tinker Bell,” he said with a smirk. “You sleep all right?”

“As well as can be expected. Thanks again for everything.”

“No worries. What are your plans?”

“I need to get back to the hospital and see how Annie's doing.” The coffee gave Shea new energy.

“How soon before her father shows up?”

“That's what worries me. Wendy was trying to get Annie away from all that. If the MC wasn't dealing crystal meth all over the state, those guys never would have kidnapped Annie. Wendy'd still be alive.”

“You looking for custody?”

Shea shook her head. “No, I'm just worried about her safety is all.”

“You think she'd be better in foster care?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

“She belongs with family.” Terrance gave her a knowing look.

“You think they'd award custody to her ex-con lesbian aunt? Not likely.”

“Why not you? Annie needs a loving, supportive environment. You've been through a lot of the same stuff.”

“What do I know about raising a kid?”

“Who does? I didn't know shit when I gave birth to Elon. At least you care.”

“I'll have to think about it.” She sipped her coffee. “You said you had a phone I could use?”

“Yeah.” He reached over to the counter and disconnected a black phone from a charger, plugged into the outlet shared with the coffeemaker. “You got your broken phone?”

She pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him. He popped off the back, pulled out the SIM card, and inserted it in the replacement phone.

“Cross your fingers,” he said, handing her the new phone.

She pressed the on button and watched it cycle through the boot-up process. When the main screen came up, she saw she had two voicemail messages.

“Panterita, call me,” said Goblin's recorded voice as she played the first message.

She dialed the number. “Goblin, gimme some good news.”

“I was wondering if you was gonna call me back,
chica
. My acquaintance is supposed to meet with the guys selling your bikes this morning. Figured you'd wanna join the party.”

“Hellz yeah! When and where?”

“Ten o'clock at a closed-up garage in Ironwood, Twelfth Street and Oakland. I'll be bringing a few of my guys to make sure things go smoothly.”

“Thanks, my friend. I will see you at ten.”

“
Órale
. Ride safe, amiga.”

Shea hung up. “We may get the bikes back.”

The second message was from Monster, asking Shea if she knew anything about where Wendy and Annie were. She would return that call later.

An hour later, Shea and Terrance arrived at Cortes General. Jessica had stayed at Terrance's to keep an eye on Elon, despite his protests that at sixteen he didn't need a babysitter.

With no calls from Detective Rios, Shea assumed the arrest warrant was still in place. To avoid the gaze of deputies or hospital security who might be looking for her, Shea wore an Arizona Diamondbacks baseball cap and a checkered button-down shirt borrowed from Terrance.

When they walked into the intensive care unit, a uniformed deputy with narrow eyes and round cheeks stood at the entrance to room 321, where Annie was supposed to be recovering. Shea's pulse quickened.
Is he here to arrest me or to protect Annie?
Only one way to find out.

“I'm here to see my niece.” Shea's voice was monotone and all business. Her body readied itself for another dash for freedom.

“Your name?”

“Shea Stevens.”

The deputy looked her over, then glanced at Terrance. “You got ID?”

Shea let go of a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She pulled out her wallet and handed her driver's license to the man.

He studied it, glanced up at Shea again, then at Terrance. “Who's he?”

“Terrance Douglas, my business partner.”

The deputy handed Shea back her driver's license. “Go on in.”

Annie lay with eyes closed, bandages wrapped around her head. Her long hair was matted with blood. Several bags of fluids hung from an IV pole, feeding into a computer-controlled pump. Shea wondered if she should let her sleep. She walked around to the side of the bed farthest from the door and pulled up a chair. It squeaked when she sat down. Annie's eyes fluttered half open.

“Annie?”

“Mama?” she asked in a drowsy voice.

Shea tightened her jaw. “No, sweetie. It's Aunt Shea.”

Annie's eyes opened wider and focused on Shea. “Aunt Shea?”

“Yeah, how ya doing?”

“Ear hurts.”

“Yeah, I imagine it does.” With all the bandages, she couldn't tell if the surgeon had reattached it or not. Shea gripped her small fingers like they were the petals of a flower. “It'll get better soon.”

“Who's that black man?”

Shea flushed with embarrassment and mouthed the word “sorry” to Terrance, who stood on the other side of the bed. “He's my friend Terrance.”

Terrance nodded. “We're glad you're safe, Annie.”

A phone rang. Shea pulled out her new phone, but it wasn't the one ringing. She reached into her other pocket and pulled out Oscar's phone. “Hello.”

“¡Hola, mija!”
Victor's icy voice tore apart her burgeoning hope.

Shea's blood boiled. “What the fuck do you want, Victor?” She stepped into the bathroom to keep from disturbing Annie.

“We have a debt to settle, you and I.”

“You want your dope? Talk to Hunter Wittmann.”

“I'm talking about Oscar Reyes.”

“Oscar Reyes got what he deserved. He shouldn't have tortured my sister.”

“Perhaps if you had not broken into my warehouse…” He cleared his throat. “But what's done is done. Oscar is dead. My product is missing. I hold you responsible.”

“Fuck you, Victor. Tell it to someone who gives a shit.”

“You can either pay your debt, or I will kill everyone you love. Your sister. Your niece. Your
marimacha
lover. I will make you watch as I gut each of them. Then I will hang you all from a bridge. Give a shit now?”

Shea considered mentioning that Wendy was already dead, but it wouldn't change anything. “I did you a favor killing Oscar.”

“How dare you! Oscar was
familia
.”

“Your
familia
sold you out,
Uncle
Victor. To the Sheriff's Office, no less. Oscar made a shitload of calls to Sergeant Willie Foster. You know all your heroin that got seized at the border recently? Ever wonder how the Border Patrol found it?”

“
¡Mentirosa!
Oscar would never betray me.”

“I got the proof right here on Oscar's phone. The call history doesn't lie. And Oscar wasn't the only rat in your house. You heard from your buddy Tiburón?”

“What do you know,
mija
?
¿Dónde está
Tiburón
?
”

“In the morgue. He and Sergeant Foster kidnapped my niece. When Wendy and I went to rescue her, Tiburón got in our way. We put him down like a rabid dog. Like that dog of yours that chewed up my face.”

“¡Putas!”
Victor roared in frustration, causing Shea to smile.

Time to twist the knife.
“Word on the street is yet another Jaguar is helping Foster grow opium poppies a few miles from your warehouse.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Not sure. Never got a name. Guess you'll have to figure that one out for yourself.”

“Why should I believe any of this?”

“I don't give a shit whether you do or not. But let me make one thing clear, Victor. You hurt anyone I care about, I will hurt you back ten times over.”

“Don't threaten me,
mija
. I am the president of the Los Jaguares. I am the king of this fucking jungle.”

Shea hung up. She'd made her point.

“Was that Victor Ganado?” Terrance stared at her as she walked out of the bathroom.

“You heard that, huh?”

“Should I be worried?”

“I don't think so. Victor has bigger problems than me to worry about, specifically Willie and the Jaguars he recruited for this local heroin operation he's got going.”

“Geez, Shea, you do love to stir up trouble.”

“Me? I just wanna build motorcycles. But if Victor and Willie want to kill each other over the local heroin trade, I don't want to stand in their way.”

“Speaking of motorcycles, it's time we meet up with your friend Goblin and get ours back.”

She nodded, staring down Annie.

“Annie, honey,” Shea whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Uh-huh.”

“I gotta go out for a little bit.”

“No, please don't leave me.” She clung to Shea's hand.

Shea's chest tightened when their eyes locked. Annie's desperation and fear matched her own. She wanted nothing more than to curl up into the bed with Annie and hold her. “Just for a little bit.”

Annie let go, eyes wet with tears. “Promise you'll be back soon?”

“I promise.”

“How soon?”

“Maybe a couple hours.”

“That ain't soon.”

“Sorry, there's something I gotta do.” Shea smiled and hugged her.

“I love you, Aunt Shea.”

“Love you, too, Little Bug.”

Shea stood up and followed Terrance down the corridor. “We'll need the cargo trailer at the shop.”

They loaded into Terrance's pickup truck and drove south toward Sycamore Springs.

“How you holdin' up?” he asked.

“I'm having trouble believing Wendy's really gone. I mean, I go seventeen years without seeing her. She pops into my life with all the drama of a
Sons of Anarchy
episode. Then right when I'm getting to know her again, she's dead.”

“It's rough losing family.”

“I keep playing everything over in my head. Why didn't I insist she stay at the Church? Why couldn't I protect her? Why didn't I get back in touch with her sooner?”

“Ain't your fault she's dead, sister. That guilt lies squarely on the bastards who kidnapped Annie. Maybe the Thunder, too, for dealing crystal and making Annie a target.”

“I keep thinking I coulda done something different. All those years I spent mad at her, thinking she'd defended Ralph on the stand, when it was me the whole time.”

“Shoulda-woulda-coulda. It's all water under the bridge now.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Shea stared out at the landscape.

“What's our plan for getting the bikes back? Who are we meeting? Willie?”

“That's my guess.” Shea pulled her Glock from the glove box and tucked it in its holster.

“Maybe we oughta call Detective Rios.”

Shea shook her head. “Hell no! Last thing we need is bringing in more goddamn police. Chances are they'd impound all the bikes for
evidence
.” She used finger quotes on the last word.

“What does Goblin want in return for his help?”

“We ain't talked specifics yet. Depending on what's there, maybe a few of the production bikes. Insurance is covering them anyway.”

“Sounds suspiciously like insurance fraud.”

“Naw, just the cost of doing business in a fucked-up world. Besides, the cargo trailer only holds so many bikes at a time. After we pick up what we can, what are the odds the rest would still be there when we got back for a second trip?”

“Good point.”

They picked up the cargo trailer from the back lot of Iron Goddess and raced back north to Ironwood. While Terrance drove, Shea kept a keen eye out for anyone following them. Luck must have been in their favor because they arrived at the meet-up spot without incident. Still, Shea remained uncertain how they were going to get the bikes back without getting killed in the process.