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Authors: Jill Sorenson

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BOOK: Shooting Dirty
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Chapter Six

Ace went to Jigsaw’s motorcycle repair shop after work.

Jared “Jigsaw” Jones was a former friend and a longtime member of Dirty Eleven MC. When Ace left the club two years ago, he’d turned his back on a group of men he considered brothers. It was ironic that the only one he’d stayed in touch with, Wild Bill, was his enemy. Ace didn’t deal with Bill by choice, of course. He did it for Skye.

Jigsaw glanced up from the motorcycle he was working on as Ace walked into the garage. It was after regular business hours, but Jigsaw was still there, elbow-deep in auto parts, his hands stained. Wiping them on a faded, red shop rag, he straightened. He was a lanky guy, about Ace’s age, with short dark hair and a full beard.

Ace wasn’t sure how he’d be received here. Dirty Eleven members were allowed to retire at a respectful age, but they couldn’t just quit. Ace was an outlaw outcast, subject to beatings whenever he was spotted.

Jigsaw’s craggy face broke into a grin, indicating that he had no hard feelings. “What the fuck is up, man? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Ace shook his hand. “I’ve been around.”

“How’s Skye?”

“Good,” he said honestly. Her speech issues weren’t improving, and he didn’t think the casino setting was the best place for her, but she was a healthy, happy little girl. Skye’s grandmother, Shawnee, took care of her.

Shawnee was his main obstacle to getting custody. She blamed Ace for Courtney’s death, and she would never give up Skye by choice.

“I heard you’ve got a little one,” Ace said.

Jigsaw’s eyes clouded over. “Yeah. He just turned six months. Kendra moved out and took him with her.”

Ace felt a pang of sympathy for his old friend. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to be separated from a child. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Jigsaw said, frowning. “What can I do for you? Looking for a ride?”

“I wish,” Ace said, glancing around the shop. He’d kill to have a bike again. It wasn’t the expense that stopped him. He associated riding with his old life. He’d given up drugs, alcohol, his cut and his bike after Courtney died. The austere conditions he’d set for himself were a punishment of sorts. “I actually wanted to ask you about Shank.”

“What about him?”

“Someone told me he busted his ankle monitor here.”

“He did.”

“Then what?”

Jigsaw shrugged. “He left with his old lady.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. He took the back roads.”

Ace followed his vague gesture. Dillon Road was nearby. It was a long straightaway leading into Desert Hot Springs. “Did the cops follow him?”

“No, they followed me,” Jigsaw said, smiling wryly. “I put on my helmet and went the opposite direction.”

“How long till they stopped you?”

“Dude, they came on quick. Like, two or three minutes.”

“What did you think of his old lady?”

Jigsaw seemed surprised by the question. “I don’t know. She was hot. Not your typical hang-around type, but hot.”

Ace nodded his thanks. “Let’s forget we ever had this conversation, okay?”

“Sure,” Jigsaw said. He knew about Ace’s hitman reputation, so he’d probably keep his mouth shut.

“Good to see you,” Ace said on his way out.

“Anytime, man,” Jigsaw said. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Ace climbed into his truck and headed down Dillon Road, keeping his eyes peeled. Shank had been acting as a police informant for a couple of weeks before he split. His girlfriend had been involved in law enforcement, as well. Ace had discovered that when he’d tailed her one day at Bill’s request. Ace hadn’t told Bill, but maybe Bill had found out. It did seem fishy that Shank had disappeared the same weekend two major players in White Lightning bit the dust. Both Gonzo and Dimebag had been secretly collaborating with Wild Bill.

Had Bill sent White Lightning after his own nephew?

Ace caught sight of an old Laundromat where he used to do drug deals. He pulled over on a hunch and entered the abandoned building. It was in a sad state of disrepair, every surface covered in desert grit. Although he didn’t see any evidence of recent activity, he found a single-use packet of lube on the floor.

Not exactly a smoking gun.

Ace walked back out, studying the area. It was remote and desolate. There was a cluster of hot springs resorts nearby. Private getaways.

Gonzo and Dimebag had been discovered about ten miles away from here, on a dirt road out in the middle of nowhere. It was possible that they’d come out here looking for Shank, and hit a dead end. Literally.

There was no way of knowing. Ace didn’t have a clue where Shank was. If Shank had killed both men and made it look like they’d killed each other, he was a fucking wizard. Ace wished he could do the same with Bill and Jester.

Ace got back in his truck, no closer to solving the mystery. He had a visit with Skye before dinner, so he went home to get cleaned up. Then he headed to King’s Castle, Wild Bill’s new stomping grounds. Bill had bought the casino recently and it was massive. The complex had a music amphitheater and a movie theater. There was a shopping center inside. Restaurants, golf courses, gardens...you name it.

With one purchase, he’d become one of the most powerful businessmen in the city. His ego and ambition knew no bounds.

Ace met Shawnee and Skye in their usual location, by the outdoor fountain. They used to meet by the pool at the old hotel. The casino pools were nice, but too crowded with hotel guests. Ace felt out of place in his ragged cargo shorts and jailhouse tattoos. He also preferred quiet places with fewer distractions. So did Skye.

He’d bought a pair of new swim trunks in case Skye pointed to the pools someday. He did whatever she wanted to do.

Today she ran toward him with her arms outstretched. It always caught him off guard, but in a good way. She was so different from him, so open and unabashed in her affections. There was nothing better than her little arms around him. Nothing in the world.

When they broke apart, she looked up at him with excited eyes. Tugging on his shirt, she pulled him toward the cobblestone path. There was a pond and a nature walk on the other side of the golf course.

“You want to see the ducks?” he asked.

She nodded and ran ahead, her honey-colored braids brushing her shoulders. At the fountain nearby, Shawnee pursed her mouth with disapproval. She was an attractive woman, tightly wound and brittle. “Those ducks have diseases.”

He greeted her with a nod. “Shawnee.”

“Encourage her to talk,” she reminded him. “She’ll never communicate if you let her get away with pulling and pointing.”

He gave her a jaunty salute and followed Skye to the nature walk. Shawnee criticized him no matter what, so he ignored her instructions. It didn’t matter to him if Skye talked or not. He liked her exactly the way she was. According to the speech therapist, Skye had no problem with her hearing, her vocal cords or her brain functioning. She understood spoken language just fine. She just didn’t produce it.

The speech delay could become a bigger issue when Skye went to school, or it might work itself out. They had the option of starting her on sign language, but Shawnee had refused. She was determined to unlock Skye’s voice.

When Ace caught up with her, she reached for his hand and held on tight. His heart twisted inside his chest. He’d never loved anyone the way he loved her. He’d never been in love, not even with Courtney. He didn’t know if he was capable of it.

Maybe he was emotionally delayed.

They strolled down the pathway together, two misfits. When they reached the pond, they stood by the shore to admire the baby ducks. He hadn’t brought any bread today. He wasn’t sure it was good for them. A few weeks ago, they’d watched a noisy, naughty boy feed the ducks an entire loaf of bread. Two days later, there were several dead birds floating in the water. The turtles that also inhabited the pond had been feasting on the carcasses. Skye had watched this disturbing scene with Ace, clutching his hand.

Shawnee definitely wouldn’t have approved of that—but she’d never know.

After a few minutes, Skye went to gather blossoms from a lilac tree. At first she tossed them into the pond, decorating the surface of the water. Then she gave him a handful and touched her hair.

He tucked one into her braid. “How’s that?”

She studied her reflection in the water and made the sign that meant good. He’d learned a few signs and taught them to her, unbeknownst to Shawnee.

I
love you
, he signed, on impulse. She signed it right back, smiling.

God. It floored him, every time.

He hadn’t grown up without love. His mother had loved him, maybe as much as he loved Skye. She was the only relative he’d ever known. His father had abandoned them when he was about Skye’s age. His mother had disappeared ten years later.

He’d been a strange kid, quiet and still. The experience of losing both parents at a young age had stripped away any hint of softness in him, like meat from bone. He was a loner and a people-watcher. A people-hunter.

Skye’s love had found the last tender place inside him and taken root there, growing stronger every day.

At sunset, their time was up and he had to deliver her to Shawnee. Ace wasn’t allowed unsupervised visits, so they stayed within shouting distance while Shawnee read a paperback or sent text messages on her phone. Today she got up from her chair by the fountain and strode toward them in her skinny heels.

“Bill wants to talk to you,” Shawnee said, glancing over her shoulder. One of his paid thugs was standing there.

“Okay.” Ace crouched down to Skye’s level. “I’ll see you Saturday, bumblebee.”

Skye gave him a quick hug and a kiss. She didn’t linger, because Shawnee got annoyed when she acted clingy.

“What a pretty flower,” Shawnee said, leading her away. “Do you have one for Mama?”

Ace watched them go, filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger. It was really fucked up of Shawnee to pretend she was Skye’s mother. Skye knew she wasn’t. She might not remember Courtney, but Skye had seen pictures of her.

Pushing aside his resentment, Ace approached the casino security guard, who directed him into the nearby café. Bill was alone on the outdoor terrace, reading the newspaper. Ace took a seat across from him.

Bill didn’t look like a motorcycle club president here. He didn’t look like a mogul, either. With his basic khakis and polo shirt, he resembled any casual businessman on vacation. He had salt-and-pepper hair, closely shorn, and a long face. He was a tall, imposing figure.

“I heard about your meeting,” he said with no preliminaries.

Christ.

Ace stayed silent, his heart racing. Nothing got past Wild Bill. Did he have another mole in White Lightning?

“Were you going to tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t worth your time.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Ace just stared at him. He wasn’t going to offer any information or implicate himself.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What did he want?”

“He said he’d heard about your collaboration, and he’d like to continue the arrangement, with me as the go-between.”

“Asshole,” Bill muttered under his breath. “What are the terms?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“So you told him no?”

“I told him I’d get back to him.”

“And you were planning to answer without consulting me?”

“His club is shit, and every time you touch them you get more of it on you,” Ace said. “How’s that for a consultation?”

Bill set aside the newspaper and drank some amber liquid from a tumbler. It had a wedge of lime in it. Ace tore his gaze away, his throat constricting. He’d love to have a drink. Just one. But he’d never been able to stop after the first taste.

“He mentioned Courtney,” Ace said.

Bill’s eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

Ace didn’t bother to repeat the comment. Bill knew Jester well enough to guess what he might have said.

“He’s a problem,” Bill said. “Take care of it.”

Fuck.

Ace hadn’t meant to stoke the flames that much. Now he was screwed. “I don’t take care of problems anymore. Remember?”

Bill leaned back in his chair, studying him. Ace had done a handful of hits for the Aryan Brotherhood, a powerful prison gang that was affiliated with White Lightning. All of his targets had been AB scumbags. Thieves, junkies, child molesters. Ace hadn’t enjoyed killing them, but he wasn’t sorry they were gone. His hitman services had been part of the now-defunct collaboration between White Lightning and Dirty Eleven. In exchange, Bill had promised to sign over custody of Skye. But he hadn’t followed through.

“He’s got something on you,” Bill said. “You wouldn’t have gone to see him otherwise. Do us both a favor and make an exception. One last job.”

Ace leaned back in his chair, uneasy. “Why me?”

“You already have an in.”

Ace couldn’t get inside White’s with a weapon. Isolating Jester from his buddies wouldn’t be easy. But there were cracks in every club, dark secrets and petty rivalries. Ace could find them and exploit them. He was good at that.

“Do it for Courtney,” Bill said.

“I’ll do it for Skye,” Ace said finally. “Paperwork up front this time.”

Bill shook his head. “The girl belongs with Shawnee.”

“No. She belongs with me.”

“There’s nothing else I can give you?”

“Nothing.”

“When are you meeting him again?”

“I didn’t set a date.”

“Okay,” he said, rising from the table. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”

Ace watched him walk away, wishing he hadn’t made the offer. Bill was a master manipulator. He’d twist this for his own gain, and Ace would never get custody of Skye. He’d probably end up in prison again—for murder.

All of the lightness he’d accumulated in Skye’s company evaporated. This was his life. And he was suffocating under the weight of it.

He rose from the table and left the café, heading into the parking structure. The urge to drink himself into a stupor was overwhelming. Getting high was another kind of escape, a way to postpone reality and tune out the rest of the world. The single-minded intensity of a meth binge obliterated everything in the periphery.

BOOK: Shooting Dirty
11.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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