Page 440 of Hell Hath No Fury
“You don’t know his last name and yet you are good friends?”
“Very close,” I replied dryly.
Without turning away, or taking his eyes off me, Sheriff Early said, “Deputy Pine, please find Mister…Pete and have him released along with Mr. Hill and his other associates.”
“Thank you,” I said with a smile, and Deputy Pine led me back to the processing area where I waited for the arrival of Mr. Bird, Esquire.
CHAPTER THREE
Duke
It had taken over two hours after I’d spoken with my father for my lawyer to arrive, and another half hour to complete the release process. We headed down the jailhouse steps to street where Mr. Bird had parked his black Lincoln Continental.
“Where’s my bike?” I asked as we approached his front row parking space.
“Your father’s instructions were perfectly clear. I’m to drive you directly to the ranch, where Mr. Hill is waiting to meet us.”
“Fuck that,” I snapped. “I’m not going anywhere without my bike and I’m not going back to that place.”
“Mr. Hill’s instructions were—”
“Fuck my old man’s wishes and fuck you if you think I’m getting into that car.”
“Everything alright?” a voice from behind asked. I turned to see Cutter and the rest of the Burning Saints walking down the stairs, towards us.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“It appears we owe you one for springing us, so if this guy’s hassling you—”
“No, this is my family’s lawyer and I’m just filling him in on the facts.” I said. “Plus, you don’t owe me shit. You had my back in there and I know how to repay a debt.”
“Family lawyer? No shit, man? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a rich kid,” Cutter said with a grin. “But then again, I don’t even know your name.”
“My buddies call me Duke.”
“Pleased as hell to meet you, Duke. I’m Cutter and this is my club, the Burning Saints. You sorta met Zaius already.” The burly redhead nodded. “And these gentlemen are Red Dog, Hacksaw, and that furry mess over there is Warthog.”
“Charmed,” the aptly named Warthog replied.
“Nice to meet y’all and thanks again for helping me out in there. Now, if y’all excuse me, I’ve got to look for my bike,” I said.
“Well, you won’t f…f…f…find it around here,” Pete said, appearing out from behind the wall of Saints.
“How’s that?” Cutter asked.
“The police impound lot is a c…couple of miles up the road on J…J…Jefferson. Your b…b…bikes will be there.”
“Thanks for the tip, Pete,” I said.
“Thanks for s…sticking up for me. N…n…no one’s ever done that for me b…b…before.”
“You wanna hang with us? Maybe we can get you something to eat before we go get our rides.” I said.
“N…no thanks. I g…g…got people around here I can c…c…crash with.”
“You be careful with these people you know, Pete. You understand me? And you go easy with the junk. That stuff’ll kill you, man.” I said.
Pete thanked us again before disappearing into the blackness of the night.
