The Nurse

Chapter 2 - Pearce-1

Chapter 2 - Pearce

45 minutes earlier...

Jarren slammed down the shot glass on the table, making the cards shake a bit. He’d been going at it pretty hard for the last hour or so, and I was willing to admit that it annoyed me. Jarren was a good enough guy, but his company got progressively more obnoxious as he drank. Tonight, however, I was making the extra effort to not let it get to me.

Jarren had a reason to be drunk. He had a reason to be blubbering and angry and rambling, even if it annoyed me.

“That b***h,” he hiccupped, then wiped at his mouth. “How could she do something like this?”

I gathered up the cards and shuffled again. He was only half paying attention, and the others at the table would have been happy to take full advantage of that, which was why we were playing with cigarettes and not money. It wouldn’t be fair to take all of Jarren’s money tonight. Not when he was so messed up over Amelia.

“And with that cocksucker, too,” he growled. His eyes lit up in anger, fueled further by the alcohol.

I let out a sigh, then dealt the cards. “Should thank the bastard,” I told him seriously.

Jarren looked at me like I’d just grown a second head. “What?” he demanded, his tongue sounding heavy in his mouth as he tried to talk around it instead of with it.

I shrugged my shoulders, glancing at my hand. I didn’t have squat, but I could bluff my way through just about anything. Hell, that was half the fun of poker in the first place, right? I moved my cards around like I was organizing them, like I had something to organize. Then I waited as the others mulled over their lot.

My eyes flickered to Jarren, then back to my hand. Eight high, I thought. I resisted the urge to snort at how ridiculous it was to try and win with something like that. Still, I would.

“I’m saying that a cheating b***h is a cheating b***h,” I pointed out. Jarren looked like he was struggling to follow, or maybe he was just struggling to translate the words in his alcohol addled brain. “Better you find that out about her now rather than marry first.”

For a second, Jarren looked like a three year old trying to figure out a philosophy text book. He wasn’t necessarily stupid but he would never be mistaken for a sober drunk.

His face softened slightly, and for a second, I thought I’d gotten through to him. Then he opened his big mouth. “I’m’a kill that bastard! That w***e stealing son of a b***h!”

I sighed, but I didn’t bother telling him this time how stupid he sounded. Wouldn’t it be better to let some other asshole deal with a cheating woman? Wouldn’t it be better to get your heart kicked a little now, rather than trying to deal with that s**t later when you’ve gotten really attached? I didn’t bother saying this or telling him that they’d only been dating a few months. He wouldn’t listen in this state.

Instead, I called my bet and took two cards. Jarren continued to drink and wail; we continued to play cards.

I was just about to show Chevy that I was a better bluffer than he had guessed when my phone rang. I retrieved it from my pocket and glanced at the screen. Frowning a little, I answered it. It was Marco. “You change your mind about coming out tonight?” I asked him, throwing down my failure of a hand on top of the table. The boys groaned, having already folded themselves. All except Jarren, who hadn’t even seemed to notice that a game was begin played. He got up to get himself another drink; I collected the pot, which was about twenty-three cigarettes.

“No, boss, I’m at work,” he told me, and I straightened up at the serious tone in his voice.

“What’s going on?”

There was a pause. The sounds came through muffled, like maybe he was covering the mouthpiece. Then he said, “I got a tip. Something about a bad motorcycle wreck between Richmond and Allerton.”

I started to frown, realizing who was in that area. “You heard anything from Kato?”

There was another pause, then, “No, that’s why I called you. I’ve tried his cell a dozen times but keep getting voicemail. There’s a chance it isn’t him, but he was supposed to be watching that stretch of road. It’s not like him to not check in with someone. Besides, it’s our territory. No one else on a bike would be going through there this time of night.”

I had to agree. The Hellriders owned everything from the south side of Richmond to the far end of Allerton, right before you hit the river. If there was anyone out there on a motorcycle at this time of night, it was Kato. Otherwise, he’d have been the one calling to tell me that someone was on our turf.

“Who reported the crash?” I asked. “Have the police arrived yet?”

“No,” Marco told me quickly. “That’s why I’m calling you. I got the call directly to my personal line. The guy who called was anonymous. All he said was there’s been a wreck involving a motorcycle. If I want to be the first on the scene, I’d better move fast.”

I frowned. Marco was on the police force. It was a hairy situation because I didn’t like cops, but I respected Marco. Officially, he was a stand-up police officer, which he took very seriously. But unofficially, he was one of my closest friends. He wanted no part of selling drugs or boosting cars, and if I ever did something truly stupid like selling girls, he’d be the first one to hang my ass.

But I happened to agree with him on that front, so we didn’t have an issue there.

That being said, he did do us favors. Not the big stuff but little things. He kept the police from getting too close, kept the fights from getting too crazy, and he kept us straighter than most of the clubs out there.

Still, he could only do so much.

“Sounds like someone knew you were my in,” I murmured softly into the phone. I didn’t like that idea. Not one bit.

There was a long pause before Marco said anything more. “Yeah, it does. And if one person knows, someone else probably does, too.” To his credit, Marco didn’t sound worried about it, which told me that, whatever happened, he’d see this thing through.

“Thanks. You got a specific address?”

“Just that it’s close to the turnoff for Pike. Nothing more than that.”

I thought a moment, then asked, “How soon before you have to say something to someone?”

He hesitated half a second, then said, “I can give you maybe an hour. Anything longer and I can’t guarantee that someone else won’t get a call about it.”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see. I told him, “Give me that, then do what you have to do. I’ll take care of it or I won’t.”

I hung up the phone, then looked at the men around me. None of them were in any position to be driving, and I needed them with their wits about them. And seeing as how all of them had had at least three shots and God only knew how many beers, I quickly decided that none of them were coming with me. Period.

Standing quickly, I told Chevy next to me and Clint on the other side, “Crash upstairs. No one leaves tonight. Make sure Jarren doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Where you going, boss?” Chevy was the least drunk of the group by several shots. I didn’t trust him enough to drive a motorcycle anywhere, but he seemed to be focusing a little better than the rest.

“To check out a report,” I said smoothly. Until I knew for sure it was Kato, I didn’t want to cause any trouble. If I told them what it was, they’d likely want to come with me, and I wasn’t interested in fighting with three drunk assholes over whether or not they were sober enough to not be a problem for me.

Chevy frowned. “Was that Marco?” he asked. He, like several of the other men, didn’t much care for Marco. They didn’t like that he was a cop and always questioned his loyalties. They didn’t look at things the way I did, and I didn’t blame them.

Marco and I went way back. Not everyone had that kind of history.

“Yeah. He said that there was an accident. Nothing serious, but I’m going to check it out. I need a ride anyway.”

Chevy didn’t look wholly convinced, but I was a damn good bluffer. The calm, easy way I spoke calmed down whatever instinctual worry that Chevy was sensing. The man ended up shrugging his shoulders and said, “I was just about to clean your clock anyway.”

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, and there are pigs flying airplanes around the bar right now as we speak. You should wave ‘em down the next chance you get.”

Chevy flipped me the bird but grinned to show that it was all in good fun. I told them to take it easy, then left the bar. Slipping on my motorcycle, I drove as quickly as I could towards Pike Street, the turnoff where Marco had told me that the accident had happened.

*