Chapter Three Wildcard

CHAPTER THREE: WILDCARD

Someone is using the back of my eyeballs for shooting practice. How much did I have to drink last night? Prying my eyes open only makes it worse. I can't get my arm to move and block the blinding sun.

"Son of a bitch," I grumble, glancing down to see a bandage near my shoulder. What the hell happened? At least I'm in the club's infirmary and not the hospital. So, it can't be too serious. But what the fuck happened?

"You're awake?" asks Splint as he comes into the room.

"Unfortunately. How much to knock my ass out again?"

He chuckles. "I could do that, but I figured you'd want to be awake so you can take part."

"Take part in what?"

"Chill has the shooter in The Pit. She hasn't started on him yet. Thought you'd want to be there to help get some answers. Viper says he's a former biker. But the guy's old. Doubt he'll last."

"What?" I'm at a loss. Who are we talking about? Then the image of an old man pointing a gun at me comes into focus. Shit! Preacher. He shot me. A man I considered a friend. The man who asked me to take his daughter away from Vegas and hide her in Boston. What had Preacher said about her? Something about how much money I got for her? What the fuck?

In my rush to get out of bed, I find myself almost back on my ass. Grasping the bed, I close my eyes and fight back the pain and dizziness.

"Woah, there," Splint says, grabbing my shoulder and arm. "Jeez, take it easy or you'll pop the stitches if you don't break your neck first."

"I have to talk to him. Where is he?"

"Who? The guy who shot you? Where do you think? Chill has him in The Pit."

Shit! I stumble to the door before realizing that I don't have my kutte or boots.

"Slow down. Your boots are on that chair, so is your kutte. Had to cut your shirt off."

After jamming my feet into my boots, I yank on my kutte, giving a hiss of pain when I pull at the stitches. Rushing out the door, I run straight into a brick wall. Looking up, I find Puma staring down at me from his lofty height. I'm not a small guy, but standing at seven feet, Puma makes me feel like I could play an extra in the Wizard of Oz.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Puma's booming voice bounces off the walls, reigniting my headache.

"I have to stop Chill before she hurts Preacher," I tell him.

Puma frowns but turns to walk with me through the clubhouse and out the backdoor. "Explain."

"Preacher was a member of the Demon Dawgs when Squiggy was President. He had a young daughter he kept away from the clubhouse, for good reason. Her name was Brigit. Preacher knew about Squiggy's preference for young girls, so he kept her away. However, he never told Brigit why he didn't let her near the clubhouse. She stopped by one day to give Preacher his wallet. He'd left it at home and she thought he might need it. She was only seventeen. I was a prospect working the gate when she drove up. Don't know what happened inside, but Preacher hustled her out and tore into her for coming to the clubhouse. I realized later that Squiggy got an eyeful and wanted her."

"I bet. That guy was a sick fucker," Puma grunts. "Glad he's fucking dead."

"You and me both."

"Did Squiggy want Preacher to give her to him?"

"He didn't come out and ask, but he suggested Preacher bring her around more. How the club was a family. He really put on the pressure."

Puma snorts.

"Pissed Preacher off, but he couldn't openly defy his President. He brought her around, but only when Squiggy wasn't there. Pissed Squiggy off. Not long after, the cops picked Preacher up and tossed him in jail. He knew he was going to prison, so he asked me for help. I was a patched member by then. He gave me money and told me to get her out of Vegas and put her somewhere safe. I drove her to Boston and helped her find a place to live."

"You left a seventeen-year-old alone in Boston?"

"She was eighteen by then."

"So why did he try to kill you?"

"That's what I need to find out. He asked me how much I got for her. I need to know what the fuck he's talking about."

We cross the expanse between the clubhouse and the trapdoor leading to The Pit. Squiggy built The Pit. It was the one thing he got right. The place is well-hidden, roomy, and, most importantly, soundproof. He built several cells and a room that would make those conducting the Spanish Inquisition envious. I'm relieved when I see Preacher sitting in a cell and not strung up in Chill's torture chamber.

"You should be dead," Preacher snarls at me.

"Good thing my reflexes are better than yours, old man. Now, do you want to tell me why the fuck you tried to kill me? We used to be friends. I even did a favor for you once, or don't you remember?"

Preacher stands and stalks toward me until only the bars of his prison cell stand between us. "You son of a bitch! You betrayed me. How much did you get for her, you bastard? Was it worth it? She was just eighteen. I thought you were one of the good guys, but I sure as fuck was wrong about that, wasn't I? Did you and Squiggy have a good laugh at my expense?" He jolts back when he asks the last question. "Oh god, did you sell her to him?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? I didn't sell Brigit to anyone. Least of all Squiggy. I smuggled her out of Vegas, just like you asked. I took her all the way to Boston to make sure she was safe. Their President, Havoc, hated Squiggy. He'd never invite him to Boston. So I figured there was no chance he'd ever find her. He wouldn't have the guts to look for her there and risk Havoc's wrath."

Preacher backs up and drops onto the cot behind him. He's shaking his head in denial, but I see confusion on his face now, rather than anger.

"You didn't sell her? But he said… Why did he tell me you did?"

"Who?" asks Puma.

"What?" Preacher asks, looking between Puma and me as if he forgot we were there.

"Who told you I sold her?"

"Dale. He told me he was sorry that I got stuck in prison but that they couldn't have Squiggy in jail. He was too important for the operation. Dale said you were learning the trade. He went on about how you were coming up to speed quickly. Even brought in a gorgeous, young redhead. He said she brought in a pretty penny. I just assumed…"

"Look, I don't know why Dale said those things to you, but I didn't hurt Brigit and I never got involved in their sick operation. I drove Brigit to Boston and got her set up in a house. Gave her all the money you gave me. I also set her up with a credit card that she could use for emergencies… Holy shit, I forgot. Brigit. She used the credit card. She's on her way here."

"What?" Preacher and Puma ask.

"Brigit may be on her way here to Vegas. Spark told me she used the credit card to buy tickets to three different cities. One of them was Vegas. She may be here already. I thought of sending a prospect to meet the plane, but we were short-handed searching for Viper. Spark was going to track her movements. I need to talk to him." I turn to leave, but Preacher reaches through the bars to grab my arm.

"Please, don't kill me until I know she's alright."

"We're not going to kill you," I assure him.

"What the fuck?" Chill asks as she joins us. "I'm all set up. He fucking shot you. No one attacks a member and lives."

"He thought I'd sold his daughter. Granted, I wish he'd talked to me before he shot me, but I get it. Wouldn't you shoot first if you thought someone had hurt Slade? Or Mal? Or Elina?" I ask Chill and Puma.

"I'll take my punishment," Preacher says. "But please, I want to know my daughter is safe. Please."

Chill looks at me, then Puma. When Puma nods, she lets out a string of curse words, but turns on her heel and returns to the torture room. I'm guessing she's putting away all the toys she brought out for Preacher's death.

"You'll stay here until I decide what to do with you," Puma tells him. "If you were still an active member, I'd brand you. Since you're not, I'll figure something out. In the meantime, you're staying here."

"But…" Preacher starts. I interrupt him.

"I'll find Brigit. Once I do, I'll come back here and tell you. We won't stop you from seeing her." I glance at Puma, who nods in agreement.

Preacher isn't happy. He glances between Puma and me. When he realizes we won't budge, he spins around and drops on the cot.

Inside the clubhouse, I turn toward the offices, but Hunter calls out.

"Wildcard, wait up. There was a woman here looking for you. She was at the gate when you got shot," Hunter says. "She hightailed it out of here in a cab before I could open the gate to let her in."

"Did she give you her name?"

"Yeah, Brigit Jones."

"She was here? Where the fuck did she go?"