“Okay. Daddy has to go earn the bacon. See you and Mommy tonight.” I grinned at her.
“Okay, Daddy. I love you. You can put me down now.”
She wriggled free of my arms, and I laughed. There was never a dull day with four-year-old Bella.
The dirt scuffed my tan leather cowboy boots as I kissed my horses goodbye in the stables, a morning ritual I’d carried with me since my days on the farm with my father.
Today was the standard pick-up day. Nothing shaking. A normal day like any other. I straddled and mounted my bike, heading into the Merced warehouse. When I pulled up, the radio was blaring, and the warehouse door was open.
Diego greeted me with a smile. “Hey, brother. How you doing?”
“Doing great. About to head out to this pick-up. We are moving these parts hard. Must be a lot of repairs coming out of La Playa.”
Diego, with his dirty blond hair, blew out a breath. Diego was the maestro of bikes. He could bring any bike back to life. He’d built the chapter from the ground up, and now it was forty members deep. He stood another inch taller than me, and if you didn’t know us well, you would say we were brothers. Diego’s Argentinian heritage made him a shade darker than me, though.
“You’re telling me. There is a ludicrous amount of parts being used. They need more people in the chop shop. It’s so busy. They ain’t got the room. I run my motorcycle repair shop, though, so I don’t want to be involved with the parts.”
“For real? Guess it’s cheap for La Playa. We are getting them at a heavily discounted rate. As far as being involved goes, sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.” I sneered.
“You got that right.”
“Okay, I’m going to go ahead and ride out. The truck here yet?”
Diego wiped down one of the bikes he was working on, stepping back to assess it.
“Yup. It’s out back. Here are the keys. Be careful. The only reason I’m giving them to you is that Vlad isn’t here.” He reached in his pocket and threw the keys at me.
With one hand, I caught them.
“See you when you get back.”
I strolled to the small truck and cranked the engine. On the way over, my stomach turned. A pressure sat in the cavern of my lungs as the green and gold California hills rolled by. As I approached the gate, my breathing became labored. I pulled into the warehouse and reversed in for easy access. I had the key to the roller door, but for some reason, it was already open. That sinking feeling came back. Maybe they’d left it open, ready for me. I sat in the truck for a minute, shaking off the paranoia.
Languidly, I let my cowboy boots hang out the side and stepped out of the truck. I came around the back and opened the latches. The warehouse was cold and dark. Again, nothing to worry about. A standard at this stage. Only two Russians met me, and they stood in the dark with long leather jackets and gloves on. Only the long strip of light from the outside door made them visible.
“Good. You’re on time,” I quipped.
“We got those parts you need.”
“Perfect, I’ll get them right now.” I started toward the back of the truck. In the shadows, I witnessed their horror-stricken faces along with mass confusion.
“What’s the problem?” I asked them.
I missed the light footsteps behind me, but I didn’t miss the barrel of the pistol to the side of my temple. I balled my hands into fists, ready to knock this motherfucker out.
Then the words of the law rang through my ears. “Freeze! You’re under arrest. Put your hands in the fucking air, now!”
Several navy blues raided the place like worker ants, snatching the duffel bag from my fingers. The two Russians looked at me closely. One of them mouthed, “Don’t snitch,” and ran a line across the bottom of his chin.
I put my hands behind my head, and all I saw was Bella and her cute toothy smile flashing through my brain. Anna and her raven hair. I didn’t know if she would cope if I went in. I couldn’t hear their muffled voices as they read me my rights. They faded away at that point. The sirens and the lights surrounded me as I said nothing. On that day, my luck ran out, and so did my time.
One
Colt
“Let’s go, cell block six! You got half an hour in the yard! Let’s go. Let’s go!” a burly prison guard’s voice perforated D-block.
The warning came just before the cell doors clicked open. I licked my chapped lips and stepped out of my cell cautiously. I bent my head down and stepped straight into line. That was the drill. I did a headcount and saw that about thirty other guys were being let out to the yard or the common area. One small window of freedom is all we got every day at USP Atwater. I welcomed the time out. My spot in the jail was cemented, so nobody would touch me. When I first came in four and a half years ago, I’d had to prove my spot really quickly.
