LITMIR.BIZ

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where he was placed on a stool beside a workbench. Five strikers stayed to ensure that he didn’t move. Jack spotted the electric drill on the workbench and thought about Stallion. What goes around, comes around. He checked his watch. It was 2:30.

      At 4:25, Damien came downstairs, along with two other bikers. He gave a nod of his head and the five guards backed away.

      “So you did come alone,” commented Damien.

      Jack nodded.

      “Yesterday … tell us how they died.”

      Jack related what happened at the front of Sid’s home and in the foyer.

      “How did dat Wizard die?” asked one of the bikers with a thick French accent.

      Jack looked him in the eye and said, “The official version is that he caught fire on his way back to torch me.”

      The two bikers looked at Damien. He gestured with his head and the three of them walked away a short distance to talk privately. Moments later, they returned.

      “What about Thumper?” asked Damien.

      “My girlfriend slashed his throat with a scalpel.”

      “No shit?” said Damien, sounding surprised.

      Jack said, “Yes, she’s quite a woman.” For a second, he almost forgot where he was as he thought about Natasha.

      “If Booger had given himself up, would you have let him live?” asked Frenchie.

      “I knew he was a striker who probably didn’t know the rules, but at the same time I didn’t know if my fiancée and the girl had been hurt. Either way, he messed with them. If given the opportunity, I would have finished him off.”

      The two bikers glared at him, then looked at Damien, who said, “Yeah, that’s pretty well how Sid Bishop told it.”

      The comment was not lost on Jack. He knows where Bishop is!

      Damien looked down at Jack and said, “Okay, sit here. It’s not us three who decide if you live. We’re all taking a vote on it. Get you a beer while you’re waiting?”

      “No, thanks.”

      As they were leaving, Frenchie asked Damien, “You offer dat pig a beer?”

      “This is strictly business. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be hospitable.”

      Jack remained on the stool as the strikers moved back into position.

      It was three hours later when Damien returned, this time by himself. “Leave us!” he barked. The five strikers promptly went upstairs.

      “Looks like it’s your lucky day,” said Damien. “You’re going to live.”

      “It took long enough to decide.”

      Damien shrugged his shoulders and said, “We had an election to do as well. What saved you was that Wizard took orders from someone outside the club.”

      “I thought returning the colours was a nice touch.”

      “That showed class, but it will only be T-Bone and Booger’s colours that will be kept and held in respect.”

      “Are you still national president?”

      Damien smiled and said, “Yeah, I got it. I think you turned the tide on that one. They figure that if you acted that way out of respect for me, then maybe I was doing a good job.”

      “Sounds like you owe me one.”

      “I don’t owe you fuck all! I reiterated what you said, that Wizard and Rolly took their orders from someone outside the club. Thumper was a weasel. It gave everyone something to think about. If anything, my two cents’ worth may have saved your life.”

      “How close a vote was it? On letting me live?”

      “It was unanimous. Everybody out there is clear on the rules. Wizard, Rolly, Thumper … they broke the rules.”

      “That’s good they respect the rules. Too bad Sid Bishop doesn’t.”

      “The trouble with guys like him is they’ve never been educated on the street. They don’t know how to survive.”

      “So where is he?”

      “Fuck, you think I’m going to tell you? Give your head a shake!”

      “You were the boss when all this took place, and you are still the boss. That makes you accountable. He messed with the people I love. You can’t ride the fence on this.”

      “You don’t fucking tell me what I can do or what I can’t!”

      “Then as far as I’m concerned, if you don’t tell me, you are breaking the rules, and I’ll hold you responsible.”

      Damien stabbed his finger into Jack’s chest and roared, “You have the gall to threaten me? Right here in my own house?”

      Strikers immediately appeared on the stairs and Damien yelled, “I didn’t call you guys! Fuck off!”

      Jack waited until they were alone and said, “I’m not threatening you. Just reminding you about the rules.”

      Damien studied Jack closely, then shook his head and said, “Our rules say that we never help the police. You arrest him and I’d lose respect. Think you know what that means. Unlike you, I don’t believe in putting myself or my family in jeopardy.”

      “My family is top priority to me, too.”

      “Then get your priorities straight! Walking in here this afternoon … you let your emotions rule you instead of your brain. Leave now and count yourself very lucky!”

      “I want to know where Sid Bishop is!”

      “You don’t listen, do you? I will never help the police!”

      “Who said anything about helping the police? I’m talking about me.”

      Damien looked exasperated. “You are the police.”

      “Do you remember the night you met me in that construction site, when you said that you and I were in different clubs, but in some ways we were very much alike?”

      “I remember.”

      “I was wrong to think we weren’t. You’ve opened my eyes. Neither of us would be alive if we went by the rules that govern the rest of society.”

      “What are you getting at?”

      “It makes me sick, but I’m admitting that you probably know me better than anyone else. You know I don’t plan on arresting him!”

      Damien looked at Jack for a moment, then said, “Still no reason to help you.”

      “I’m in a good position to return you a favour someday.”

      Damien paused, then said, “So you’ll be Sid’s replacement?”

      “Not exactly. Call it rules of honour and respect. If we play by our rules, both you and I, and our families, should be around for a long time. It’s wise to invest in the future.”

      Damien stared at Jack long and hard, then said, “You would owe me. Owe me big!”

       chapter forty-two

      “Buenas noches!” said Natasha, unconsciously feeling her wedding ring as she walked out on the balcony. The Mexican sun was touching the top of the Pacific Ocean, and the afternoon breeze was starting its daily venture from the water to the mountains behind them.

      Jack was peering through binoculars but put them down before kissing Natasha warmly on her neck. “Thought you were going to take a shower,” he murmured, before kissing her again.

      “Came out to see if you would be kind enough to soap my back.”

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