His little hand slides into mine. “Nice to meet you, Kyle. Do we have a deal? I’m a man and a man has to stay true to their word.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you.”
I move out of his way so he can try and climb up on the bike. Now-a-days, a person has to be careful picking up a kid in public. I’m not trying to get shot for this. Once Kyle is on the bike, he leans over to try and grab the handles which are a little too far for his body.
“I’m a super cool biker!”
“Yeah, you are! Check you out!” I encourage him.
His smile is genuine and I can tell this is the most interaction he’s probably had with a grown up in a long time. I wait a couple of more minutes for the shock and ah to die down before asking him what I really want to know.
“All right,” I murmur to Kyle ready to bust his bubble. Truth is, I have a job to do and I need to know what he knows. “What happened?”
“Can I still sit on your bike?” He asks with excitement lighting up his face.
I can’t help but wonder if my kid would want to be a biker like his daddy. Would I have chose this life if I had a kid? I’m not sure. There are so many different ways my life could have gone.
I nod. “Yeah, little dude. Go ahead.”
“Okay! Well, some guys came to his house and was yelling at him telling him he needed to pay something back to them for something. I don’t know what, but they weren’t in there for a long time.”
“Did you hear what it was?”
The little kid shook his head.
I nod. “Do you remember what color this patch was?” I point to the patch on my cut.
Kyle shrugs. “Blue? I think. I think it was blue. The guy’s still in there.”
I walk over to him and hold my hand out for him to give me a high five. Which he does with a gigantic smile on his face. “Thanks, little dude. You’re pretty cool for a kid.”
He smiles. “Thanks, man. Thanks for letting me sit on your bike.” Kyle jumps off my bike and walks slowly to the grass area next to the parking lot.
I’m ready to meet with Beto and get our money.
Taking the few dozen steps to his front door, I see it has been kicked open. “What the fuck?” I growl under my breath.
All along the outside of the door is full of crow bar marks and boot footprints. Whoever got here first, kicked his door in so good that the wood trim around the door is splintered off too.
Jesus.
“Hello?”
“Help!”
“Beto?” I yell through the apartment.
“Help! Help me!”
I stroll through the apartment which is smashed to shit, until I get to the kitchen. I see Beto sprawled out on the floor with blood pouring out of a hole in his chest. “What happened?”
He’s breathing and alive even with the bullet wound in his chest. The wannabe gangster is going to be feeling this for a couple of weeks but he will live. “I don’t know!”
I crouch down next to him. “Look, this can go one or two ways. One, I could just kill you and get it over with. Two, you tell me what the fuck happened and I will get you help. Pick one.”
If being in the 1% has taught me anything, the other club kept him alive to tell me what happened. I know exactly who it is, but the why is something totally different.
He’s considering his options. The man has lived a hard life in his short amount of time on this earth. He’s young in the sense he’s probably eighteen or so, but his drug use and fights is what is aging the little asshole.
