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  “Bunion?” Knuckles scoffed. “Like, the things on your feet?”

  “Like Paul Bunyan,” Jayce corrected, leaning in on the booking sheet. “Jesus, he’s six-four and almost three hundred pounds.” The he sighed. “Okay, so why does he look so familiar?”

  Fritter was glad he wasn’t the only one with that inkling.

  “He was at Sturgis.” Now Spaz spun back to face them, crowded inside his office doorway. “He’s with the Dirty Rats.”

  “Fuck,” Knuckles whispered.

  “So a Dirty Rat came into Markham and rented a trailer for the Mazaris?” Jayce connected a few dots.

  “At least we know what brought the Mazaris here now,” Fritter pointed out. “It wasn’t just looking for Gertie and they liked the town so much they stayed or some shit.”

  “We know the Gypsys were working for someone when it came to that Thebaine they were trafficking,” Jayce mused slowly, thinking it through.

  “I assumed it was for G-Town.”

  Jayce shook his head at Knuckles. “Nah, those assholes aren’t that clever. They’ll sell the shit out of it but they’re more into moving things that other people have handed to them, ready to go.”

  “No one noticed another club in town?” Fritter found that surprising. Usually at least a hang-around would see something and report back.

  “He wasn’t on a bike,” Knuckles mumbled. “Remember what Terry at the scrap yard told us? He saw a lot, and he never mentioned a bike.”

  The local junkyard owner had been the one to report the trailer to Tank, and during a stake out of the site the club had managed to rescue a kid that had been destined for Bakersfield for who-knows-what. Knuckles had tuned the client in on his own and the bust of the trailer had been turned over to the cops.

  “That’s true. Terry would have said something. They were undercover to establish themselves for a bit before they handed the property over to those fuckers.” Jayce scrubbed his face with one hand. “But these two are gone now?”

  Spaz shook his head. “Highway patrol issued a speeding ticket to Brian Pullman last week, just outside of Hazeldale.”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  Spaz shook his head as Jayce stared. “Nope.”

  “Cut off one appendage and an uglier one pops up,” Fritter said unnecessarily.

  “I hate the Rats,” Jayce muttered, closing his eyes and rubbing his head with both hands. “I really, really fucking hate them.”

  None of them liked the Rats. They were worse than the Gypsys; even more soulless and irrationally violent. At least the Gypsys for the most part kept their bullshit to their own town. Until they’d tried to kill Jayce’s family, that is. The Dirty Rats were more unpredictable, and as far as Fritter knew their only alliances were due to money. No one wanted them close for any other reason.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if the woman’s in Hazeldale somewhere,” Spaz said, bringing them away from the frustration of knowing they’d have to worry about the Rats now.

  “Why?” Fritter asked the obvious question. It was kind of his thing.

  “Her parents live there. Plus, she’s out on parole. One of the conditions is she can’t be more than ten miles from her parents’ house. She’s got an ankle monitor.”

  “Holy shit.” Now Jayce was smiling. “That’s lucky.”

  “We gotta go find her.” That was Knuckles.

  “Easy,” the Prez cautioned. “She’s probably not going anywhere. I’d rather get a bit of a plan together. No point going after her until we know what we can get from her.” He nodded to Spaz. “What did she have on her when they busted her?”

  Spaz turned back to his keyboard, did a bit more click-clacking, then the image on a monitor changed to what looked like paperwork. They all leaned in. “Umm, looks like she had Oxy. Wanna bet it was orange?”

  “So the Rats deal Sunshine, too. Not just G-Town. Plus they’re on the supplier end, like the Mad Gypsys were. All working for the Galiendos. Which means they’re now working for the Castillos.” Knuckles put it together, big picture-wise.

  “So they have the Castillos and we have Sachetti,” Fritter threw it out there. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Those two don’t seem to be getting along either,” Jayce mused just as his cell went off. He reached for it, eyes still on Tiffany Pullman’s mug shot as he answered. “Yeah?” There was a pause while he turned to Fritter and Knuckles with a smile, even smacking Knuckles in the gut for emphasis. “Now? You’re kidding. You’re headed for the hospital instead?”

  Fritter frowned at Knuckles, who was nodding now and grinning as well. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Yeah, we’ll head on over. You want me to go by your house for you? She’s got a bag packed, right?”

  That didn’t clear anything up.

  “You got it. We’ll meet you there, don’t worry about anything.” He snapped his phone shut.

  “She’s gone into labor already?” Knuckles jumped in. “Isn’t that early?”

  “Only three weeks,” Jayce said dismissively, heading out of the office and down the hallway.

  “Shit, I hope she’s okay.”

  Fritter frowned as his friend followed the Prez down the hallway, then turned his confusion to Spaz. “Tell Knuckles that gestation longer than thirty-seven weeks is likely perfectly safe.” That was what the kid actually said.

  “What the fuck?”

  Spaz shook his head. “He’s worried about her. Tell him that if she’s at thirty-seven weeks she and the baby will be fine.”

  “You’re so fucking weird,” Fritter muttered as he left the office to follow his two brothers into the room. Tank was already there, grinning like a schmuck as Jayce filled him in.

  “Already? Fuckin’ A!” the big guy bellowed. Where in the world was all this family happiness coming from? Admittedly, Fritter didn’t get it. “I gotta call Rose.”

  “Fritter, you coming?”

  He made a face at Knuckles. “Why? You think she wants a bunch of guys hanging around the hospital while she has a kid?”

  Jayce laughed at that. “You kidding? Gertie’s going to be fine. It’s Buck we gotta worry about. He already sounded like he was going to throw up. I’m going by their house to pick up her overnight bag. He told me where it is.”

  “I’m with you, Prez,” Fritter said, instinct telling him that Jayce expected that.

  “We’ll wait at the hospital,” Knuckles offered, gesturing to Tank, who was on his phone. “Spaz?!”

  “What?” Their tech officer was right behind them, he was just so quiet no one had noticed.

  “Sorry dude. You’re on watch. Tims and Rusty are making a sale, they’ll be back eventually. Tiny’s at the shop. Call him if anything comes up, yeah?”

  Spaz nodded. “Sure. Tell them I said hi?”

  “Of course. We’ll keep you posted.” Then Fritter was following his President out of the clubhouse and back into the lot.

  They took their bikes to the Buckingham’s place. Jayce had a key, let himself in the front while Fritter waited. He came out with a small-looking bag that he strapped to his back fender.

  “She’s a no-fuss kind of girl I guess,” Fritter muttered, nodding at the bag. “She looks like the type that would need a couple suitcases for a weekend.”

  Jayce just grinned and fired up his bike, then they were off again to Markham Medical Center. The Grainger’s SUV was in the parking lot already, so Fritter followed Jayce up to the admitting desk. The attending nurse pointed them towards maternity. Fritter honestly had no idea where that ward was; usually the Rebels were headed for the emergency room when they came here.

  There was a waiting room in the middle of the ward, open hallways heading off from all four sides. With the vinyl couches sat a coffee maker and vending machine, plus a TV that no one was watching. Mickey and Jolene were sitting on sofas, holding hands and talking, smiling at each other, as Fritter and Jayce found them.

  “How’s she
doing?” Jayce asked. Jolene reached for the overnight bag and he handed it over.

  “She’s fine,” Mickey assured them, sharing a grin with Jolene. “Buck’s another story.”

  They all laughed, Fritter wasn’t part of it, then Jolene was off to find Gertie and deliver the bag.

  “They just got her to her room,” Mickey said. “I’ve never seen Buck so impatient to be filling out forms. I think Gertie’s doctor was already scared of him to begin with.”

  “Did we miss anything yet?” The three turned as Tank, Rose and Knuckles joined their group as well.

  “Nope,” Mickey answered Knuckles. “They just got her to her own room.”

  “Can ... can we see her?” Rose asked softly, that upper-crust accent sounding so out of place given the present company. Fritter eyed her up, somewhat amused at how unsure she seemed. She took her clothes off for a living, but she wasn’t a bawdy, pushy, loud mouth. Like the accent, she was all class. And gorgeous. Actually, he realized that when she’d spoken he got hard.

  Christ, he had no control.

  “Jolene’s in with her and Buck right now,” Mickey said, pointing down one of the hallways. “Room 318. I don’t know how many are allowed in at once.”

  “I’ll wait,” Rose declared happily, taking Tank’s hand and tucking herself into his arm.

  “Isn’t it early?” Knuckles asked, snapping the joints of his fingers. He always did that when he was anxious, but usually it was when he had some bloody business to take care of. “Is she gonna be okay?”

  “Oh yeah,” Fritter piped up, sinking into a vinyl couch and putting a foot on the low table in front of it. “Spaz said at thirty-seven weeks she and the baby would be fine.”

  “Spaz said that.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement questioning logic.

  Fritter nodded up at Knuckles. “Yeah, he did. So calm your jets, Uncle Knuckles. She’s going to be fine.”

  Knuckles had to smile at that. “Okay, then.”

  -oOo-

  Babies took a long fucking time, that’s what he learned that day. For all the urgency getting to the hospital, Fritter made three food runs with Jolene’s Escape just to keep their crew fed. Other members like Tiny, Tims and Rusty cycled through. Tiny dropped off flowers, which was a nice touch. Fritter wished he’d thought of it, then stopped himself, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

  He and Knuckles found a football game on TV, then realized it was Canadian. They watched anyway, just for lack of anything else going on. Rose and Jolene took turns keeping Buck and Gertie company until it really started.

  And it was ... real. The tension was jacked up a few notches, and as the room got quiet—thanks to Knuckles turning down the TV volume—he heard it.

  “Fuck that, turn it up,” Fritter muttered, trying to grab the remote back as another shriek echoed down the hallway.

  “Don’t be a prick,” Knuckles told him, getting up and taking the remote with him.

  Fritter did not want to hear a woman screaming from childbirth. He could think of few things more horrible than that. But there it was, Gertie’s shrieks filling the silence and he had to close his eyes, lean over his own lap and cover his head.

  He’d heard her screaming like this before. They all had. He had no idea how the fuck the rest of them could stand the sound.

  “It’s okay, Fritter,” Jolene assured him, sitting next to him and rubbing his back. “Just breathe through it.”

  He gave a dry chuckle at that, then sat up again. “Do we really have to be here for this? Surely they want to be alone with the new baby once it comes.”

  “I asked Gertie. She said it’s fine that we’re here, she thinks it’s helping keep Buck calm.”

  “It’s freakin’ me out,” he admitted. “Thinkin’ about what’s goin’ on in there.”

  “Then don’t. Jesus, Fritter. Don’t let Buck hear how you’re thinking about his woman’s snatch and the trauma it’s suffering.”

  “Fuck, Jolene. Don’t be so fuckin’ graphic.”

  “You started it.”

  “I didn’t!”

  Then she grinned and gave him a good jab in arm, again, luckily not near the stitches.

  He grinned back. He couldn’t help it; Jolene was the coolest broad he knew. “I’m just glad I’m not Buck right now.”

  Now Jolene’s smile slipped. “I wish I was going through it.”

  Fuck, he always forgot the Graingers were childless for biological reasons. “Shit, Jolene. I didn’t mean to bring anythin’ up.”

  “I know. I just ...” Jolene trailed off, eyes darting over to her old man. Mickey and Tank were laughing with Jayce, clustered around the coffee machine. “He’d be such a good dad.”

  Fritter put his arm around her. “Hey. This little one’s goin’ to be so lucky. Mostly because Aunt Jolene is fuckin’ awesome.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Are you kiddin’? Borrowed kids are the shit, man. They’re cute, you have ‘em around for a while, then they get sick or shit their pants or start screamin’ and you hand them the fuck back.”

  She made a horrible noise that was a little bit of a sob but mostly a laugh, and that brought her old man over. One look at his wife and Mickey knew what was up. He sat down on the opposite side and huddled her in under his arm. “Oh Jo, baby. I’m so sorry.”

  Fritter and Mickey shared a sad smile over Jolene’s head, and Fritter knew then it wasn’t Jolene that had the problem that meant they couldn’t have kids. It was something to do with Mickey. It was plain on the man’s face.

  He bit back the urge to ask why they didn’t just get a sperm donor. It wasn’t his business, but he was sure it had something to do with the idea of raising someone else’s kid. Maybe? He didn’t know. He’d never wanted to have kids with anyone. He had no idea what it was like.

  “Well, I’ll be.” The voice was slow to say it but plenty loud, and they all looked up as Buck approached Tank, smile a mile wide with a blue bundle in his arms. Rose stepped out front, peering into the little one’s face and tugging the blanket back.

  “Oh my,” she whispered, her white smile somehow brighter. “He’s so handsome. Already!”

  Tank chuckled, wrapping his arms around her as he peered over her shoulder. “Holy shit, Buck. You made a baby.”

  “I didn’t do much,” Buck admitted, turning as Jolene and Mickey approached. “So, this is David Buckingham Junior. Eight pounds, three ounces. Healthy lungs.”

  They all laughed softly, and even Fritter had to give in to his curiosity. Buck handed the baby over to Jolene, and that’s when he took a good look. “Looks like an alien,” he muttered.

  “Never mind him,” Jolene cooed in that baby voice all women pulled out in this situation. “He’s just jealous he’s not the baby anymore.”

  Fritter scoffed at that and the rest started laughing, making the little one jump a bit.

  Tank slapped Buck on the shoulder with one big hand. “Congratulations, man.”

  Buck was beaming, fucking glowing. His face was going to stay like that if he didn’t stop, but Fritter wouldn’t say anything. He liked seeing his friend this happy. “I ... I don’t even know what to say,” the poor bastard admitted, rubbing his forehead.

  Knuckles held his arms out for the baby, which surprised Fritter but not Jolene. She handed David Junior over and Knuckles settled the baby into his chest like a pro. “How’s Gertie?”

  “She’s good. She’s really good. Tired, but happy.”

  Rose stepped into Buck’s space and gave him a hug. Then Jolene did the same thing. Mickey and Fritter shook his hand with the prerequisite slap on the back. Then Buck collected his son—such a weird word to use when thinking about Buck—and headed back to his old lady.

  “All right, let’s head back to the clubhouse,” Jayce suggested, keeping his voice to a hospital level of joviality. “We can still celebrate in their honor.”

  Chapter Eleven

  One day with her kid living in her hous
e and Sharon understood why some animals ate or abandoned their young. Three times Brayden had been asked to move his bags away from the front door and, if the spirit moved him, unpack in the spare room while he was at it.

  At bedtime the duffels were still there, and the next morning as she got ready for work they had yet to move. She picked them up, opened his door and threw them on his bed, while he was asleep in it. That caused an argument but too bad. She had a full time job, she wasn’t Jasmine, and he’d be picking up his own shit while he lived here. Then she threw out the precursor for argument number two: his job search would also start that day. She wasn’t wearing out shoe leather while he took a vacation. No fucking way, he was earning his own spending money and putting some away for the next school year, too.

  The joys of sharing a house when you were so used to having it all to yourself. With the shouting and slamming doors even poor Earp was ready to abandon ship. He refused to come inside, preferring the quiet of the yard. She negotiated silence in exchange for a day outside and she was pretty sure he agreed.

  Needless to say, she was in a mood by the time she got to the Sheriff’s department. And when Officer Martin met her, looking skittish and nervous, she couldn’t blame him for his careful treading.

  “Um, Sheriff? We got a call here out of Hazeldale.”

  “Hazeldale?” She frowned. “Where’s Deputy Greene?” Joseph Greene and his officers had a small office set up for Hazeldale, run almost as its own county but he still was responsible to report back to her.

  “Greene called. He’s getting a bit nervous. They’ve had outside interest in Hazeldale ever since that slaughter at the Mad Gypsys clubhouse.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Who are they seeing?”

  Martin took a deep breath. “Dirty Rats. You know these guys?”

  She frowned. “Only a little. I thought the closest they got to here was San Diego.”