Miles high, p.23
Miles High, page 23
part #4 of Grimm Tales of Smoky Vale Series
“Can’t say I blame you, brother.”
“Let’s get to it, then,” Grimm said. “What we know so far is that Black is responsible for this. Mort’s fighting for his life. Tempus Black won’t be alive for much longer.”
“We’ve found out where he lives,” Booker said. “But we’re leaving the rest up to you. How do you want to play this out?”
“I need him one on one. Need him to admit what he’s done to traumatize that boy all these years.”
“He’s going to stay low after what happened.” Grimm took a sip of his beer. “And by the looks of his house, it’s fortified. Security system, guard dog. Has Miles ever been to his place?”
“Yeah.”
“Then he might know a way in. You need to find out from him what the layout of Black’s house is like, how many people he has working for him, so we’re not met with any surprises. I won’t lose any more of my men. We’re going to do this the smart way.”
A thought struck me. “I might know how to get to him outside of his home. Miles said he’s always at these fight nights.”
“Then we make a guest appearance,” Booker said. “We take him out.”
“We can’t have that many eyes on us,” Grimm warned. “We don’t want this thing leading back to us. We can trail him from the venue, but we don’t need civilians witnessing anything.”
“They keep changing the venues.” I scooted to the end of my chair. “Miles was always blindfolded until he was in the exact place. We need an insider to get in, and I might know a guy.”
“Someone you can trust?”
I didn’t trust Dusty Payne as far as I could throw him.
“I can handle him.”
“We need to talk again when we have something more concrete to go on.” Grimm scratched at his beard. “The sooner we handle this, the better.”
A knock sounded on the door. I frowned. Who could that be?
“You expecting someone?” Grimm asked.
“Can’t say I am.” I got to my feet.
“Are you packing?”
“No.”
“Booker, go with him. We’re not leaving anything up to chance.”
Booker nodded at me. I yanked the door open and came face-to-face with Captain Witter, Jamie’s uncle, from the local police station.
“Fuck, that was quick,” I muttered.
“What’s going on?” Booker asked.
“Some asshole came by earlier—”
“We prefer the term cops, just saying,” Witter said.
“Like I was saying.” I glared at the man. “Some asshole came by earlier wanting to talk to Miles, but he got inappropriate, so I showed him the door.”
The man frowned at me. “Detective Brewer said you would say that.”
“Because it’s the fucking truth.”
“May I come in?”
I would have rather slammed the door in his face, but Booker’s hand on my shoulder held me back. I grunted and stepped aside for the man to enter.
“The reports of what happened yesterday made its way on my desk this morning.” He walked along the hall like he owned the place, me and Booker following him to the living room, where he paused with his hands akimbo. He studied Grimm and the twins, who sat close together on the love seat, soaking up all the information. “Well, damn, ain’t the entire cavalry here. I’m kind of interested in seeing what goes on in one of these meetings.”
Grimm propped one ankle over the knee of his other leg. “Then I’d say you’re right on time, Captain. You can lead the intercession for our friend who’s critically ill at the moment.”
Witter scowled at Grimm. “This isn’t some damn prayer meeting, and we all know it.”
Grimm shrugged. “Prove it.”
“You’ve got these boys trained well. I’ll give you that.” Witter scratched at his forehead. “But eventually, one of them will mess up. We know how you operate by now. You spread out, retaliate, and cause another incident in Smoky Vale, but not this time. We’ve got our eyes on you.”
“Is there a specific reason you’re here?” I stepped forward, tired of all the bullshit.
“I’m here to speak with Miles. I assume he’s still here.”
“Maybe. Depends on what you want to talk to him about.”
“There’s a body down at the morgue we think he may be able to identify.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I have reason to believe it’s his father.”
Everything inside me turned cold. I barely knew the man, but he’d done what he thought best to take care of Miles. My boy loved his dad despite the mess they’d wound up in, and I’d seen the way he took care of the older man when he’d been at Miles’s place.
Fuck, he would be crushed.
“Are you positive?”
“About ninety-nine percent positive.”
“I’ll go get him.”
There was no way I could let the captain break the news to Miles in the cold careless way he’d done.
Miles sprang up from the bed. “Is it over? Can I come out now?” He closed the distance between us and placed both hands in the center of my chest. I caught those hands and balled them into mine.
“There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s not good.”
He tried to pull away, but I didn’t let him.
“Oh no, no. It’s not Mort, is it? He didn’t make it?”
“No, it’s not Mort.”
His eyelids were already wet. “Then who? One of the other bikers?”
“It’s-it’s your dad, baby.”
He inhaled deeply, then panted out the breath. “What about my dad, Rubble?”
“The police think a body they found is him. They want you, as his next of kin, to identify the body.”
“Where did they find his body?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. Captain Witter is in the living room. I’m sure he has all the details.”
“If they need me to identify his body, then it might not be him,” he said, his tone hopeful.
“He seems pretty sure.”
He leaned forward and rested his forehead against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and held him as tremors ran through him over and over, but he didn’t cry. That worried me.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I should go talk to the captain and hear what he has to say.”
I held on to his hand and led him from the bedroom, watching him for signs of delayed reaction, but he seemed to be keeping it together. In the living room, he came to a stop a couple of feet away from Captain Witter, but he addressed the bikers first.
“Hey, everyone.”
“Miles, how are you doing?” Grimm asked.
“I-I’m really not sure. It depends, I guess if it will be a positive ID.” He turned to the detective, released my hand, and outstretched it. “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”
“Is it really him?” Miles asked.
The man dropped Miles’s hand. “We’re fairly certain, but it’s standard procedure to have a family member confirm for us.”
Miles nodded, inhaling deeply again.
That’s right, baby. Breathe.
“Do you mind if I ask how he died?”
“Witnesses on the scene say he ran into the middle of the street just when the light changed to green. He was hit by a bus.”
“Oh, my god.” Miles covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh my god. Dad, no. H-he said he would do it, b-b-but I never took him seriously.”
Miles stumbled, and I caught him in my arms before he fell. “It’s okay,” I whispered in his ear, then wished I hadn’t. It wasn’t okay.
“All the dots point back to you, Miles,” Captain Witter said. “The accident a few days ago was not far from your house. Your friend was shot at your house, and now your father’s dead. I’d say you’re the common denominator in all this.”
Miles’s shoulders shook harder, and I glared over his head at the cop. “Back off, okay? Can’t you see he’s taking this hard?”
“Someone’s after you, isn’t it?” The captain ignored me. “Who’s trying to kill you? You don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of you, do you? Let the police handle it.”
Anger boiled inside me at his careless words. I knew how much Miles already resented getting everyone in trouble. With the cop adding fuel to the fire, trying to get him to trip up, Miles would break.
“And that is why we can’t fucking stand cops.” I glowered at the man. “Because you think you need to hurt an innocent boy to find answers that will only have you do a shitty job anyway. I hope you’re satisfied with a job well done, Captain.”
His face turned red, and he glanced away from me. “Have him stop by the morgue to identify the body. I’ll see myself out.”
Chapter 26
Miles
Everything they showed in the movies about identifying a body in the morgue was pretty much a goddamn lie. I went, clinging to Rubble’s hand like he was my lifeline, expecting a sterile environment with cold workers who were clinical in their approach and harsh lighting burning into my retina.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
There was no gray room with a body pulled out of a freezer, laid out on a metal table for me to view. The workers were warm with friendly smiles. The coroner brought us to a private room with comfortable upholstered armchairs.
“Are we going to view the body?” I asked, reaching beside me for Rubble’s hand. Having him beside me made me feel stronger. Like I was feeding off his strength.
“Yes, we are.” The man walked toward one of the filing cabinets in the room. I frowned at Rubble. Was this some kind of joke?
“Where’s he?”
“Right in here.” He plucked a file out of the cabinet and closed it.
“I don’t understand.”
He smiled at me and took the seat across from us. “Understandable. The media portrays such a different image of identifying a loved one’s remains. Believe me, it’s all for dramatic effect.”
“You mean I won’t get to view his… body?”
“We can definitely look at that as an option after we’re through here,” he said. “You can let me know once we’re done if you still want to go ahead with that. How does that sound?”
“Okay.”
“Good. The detective explained that your father got hit by a bus and died from internal injuries.”
“D-did he suffer?”
“No, the force with which he was struck would have killed him instantly.”
Maybe he was lying, but I took comfort in that. My dad had suffered enough in life. I didn’t want him to suffer in death too.
“What we’re about to show you is a photograph of his face for you to identify,” he said calmly. “I’m going to leave the photograph right here.” He placed the photograph on the desk facedown. “And you take all the time you need. You can come out when you’re ready.”
“Okay, thank you.”
The coroner left the room, closing the door gently behind him. Left alone with Rubble, I couldn’t help feeling that I was in the wrong place. This room was too cozy, too relaxed for this occasion.
“I expected something different,” I said softly, shifting in my chair. “Even the chairs are too comfortable.”
“Miles, hop up onto Daddy’s lap,” Rubble said. “You heard what the coroner said. You can take your time, so no rush.”
I made the transition over to his lap, and he wrapped his arms around me. They possibly had cameras in the room, but I didn’t care. If I was going to do this, I needed Rubble.
“Is this my fault?” I asked him. “No, hear me out. I knew he was in bad shape. All he did was drink, and he always made those little comments about not being brave enough to walk in front of a bus, so I didn’t give it a second thought. I never expected this.”
“Exactly, babe. It’s not like you believed he would do it and then didn’t try to stop him. You’ve got to cut yourself some slack, or you’re going to make yourself sick with all this guilt.”
“But you heard what the police officer said.” I lowered my voice. “I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me. I should come clean and let them handle it.”
“Miles, listen to me.” He cupped my face and raised my head, so I had no other choice but to look at him. “This has become club business. Come on, baby. After everything that fucker put you through, the years of torment, and now taking your dad away from you? Some sins can’t be forgiven, and hurting you is one.”
A shiver ran down my spine. Dad’s death wouldn’t go unpunished. I should be going to the police and do what was right, but maybe I was jaded, and this was my life now. One in which my man would hurt anyone who hurt me.
There were worse things in life to bitch about.
“He was a great dad,” I said. “I don’t remember much of when Mom left us, but I recall birthdays being especially rough. And he would do everything in his power to make sure it was a good day for me, so I didn’t miss her.”
“He sounds like an amazing man who loved his son.”
A sob erupted from my chest. I felt like I’d been in crying mode since yesterday. I was so drained.
“And one decision ruined everything. He should never have agreed to be Tempus’s accountant. That’s when everything started going bad—the day that man came into our lives.”
“And I’ll take him out soon. Permanently.”
I slumped against him. “I’m afraid. Of looking at that picture. Like everything will be real after and I’ll have to acknowledge that I’m now alone.”
Rubble rubbed a hand down my back. “You don’t think I should take offense to that? And I know for a fact that if the boys heard you speak this way, that they would too. You have a family who’s here to stand by you. It might not look anything like they say a family should, but we’ve got your back. And… I’ve never said this to anyone, Miles, but I’ve got mad love for you.”
His admission was all the incentive I needed. I kissed his chin. “I love you too. Thanks for coming with me.”
“Always.”
I placed my hand on the photograph, took a deep breath, and turned it over. One side of his face showed slight bruising, but it wasn’t difficult to identify him at all. A deep sense of loss burrowed into my chest, but my eyes burned without the tears I needed. I was too exhausted, too everything from the past thirty-six hours. Too tired from the years of manipulation and suppression.
“How are you holding up?” Rubble asked. “If you need to cry, I’ve got a shoulder for you.”
I shook my head. “It hurts, but I won’t cry.”
“Do you still need to see him?”
“No. I still need to get through the funeral arrangements. Something small. Just us. He did the best he could.”
“He did.”
I leaned into Rubble and took comfort from his warm hug. When I was calm, I climbed off his lap. “We should go.”
“I’m taking you to the clubhouse after this,” he said. “The boys are there. They’ll be good company to be around.”
The rest of the process was easy. I was referred someone to speak to if I needed grief counseling, and although I didn’t think I would need it, I took the card just in case.
Booker, who’d ridden with us, waited outside the building. He flicked out his cigarette when we walked toward him.
“Everything went okay?”
“Yeah, it’s him,” Rubble answered for me. “You said Fable was at the Great House, right?”
“Yeah, Grimm wants all the boys to be on the compound just to be on the safe side.”
“What about Zak?”
“We’re sharing Fable’s bed. He’ll be with us.”
“We’re going to have to swing by my apartment and grab some stuff for Miles.”
Earlier, Rubble had made me promise to stay in his apartment with Booker so he could pack me a bag. It was the only way to get clothes to wear to the morgue. I didn’t have the stomach to go back to my place, where Mort had been critically injured. Too soon.
After fetching my bag from Rubble’s apartment, we drove straight to the clubhouse. Rubble helped me from the back of his now repaired bike, and with my bag slung across his body, took my hand. I fell into step beside Rubble and Booker to the Great House.
“Are you staying here too?” I whispered to Rubble.
“I’ll be around in the clubhouse. Bikers aren’t allowed to be here.”
“But I don’t want to be anywhere without you,” I protested.
“Shh, it’ll be fine. You’ll be with the boys. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”
“Of course, I’ll notice.”
“I’m sure Grimm won’t mind you sharing a room if that’s what your boy wants, Rubble,” Booker said from behind us. “He can’t be the only one without his Daddy around.”
My face flamed at what seemed like a teasing remark from Booker. I ducked my head, and Rubble chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.
“I think we’ve been outed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” I murmured. “I love having you for my Daddy.”
Booker didn’t knock but turned the knob and led us right in as if he owned the place. I tightened my hand around Rubble’s as we followed the VP through to the living room. The three boys jumped up from the couch, and Fable made a beeline for his Daddy, right into Booker’s arms. The boy must have been so stressed. As the big man lifted him, Fable wrapped his legs around Booker’s waist and buried his face into the man’s neck.
My heart plummeted at the somber atmosphere. Both Cass and Jamie looked exhausted. Cass had dark circles under his eyes, and Jamie’s eyeliner was smudged. He was still dressed in his scrubs as if he’d just gotten in from the hospital.
“What’s going on?” Rubble asked, squeezing my hand. He sensed something was wrong too.
“Is it Mort?”
“It was a tough day for him,” Jamie said. “He flatlined while Cass was with him.”
“Oh, my god,” I gasped.
“We got him back, and he’s being monitored closely.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Cass said. I couldn’t tell if he was in denial or if he truly believed those words.
