“Oh, yeah. Old time gangs … Irish … heard they used to cut off body parts.”

“My old man was a member all his life,” said Jack. “I was raised in that shit. This is nothing. More annoying than anything. One of the reasons Princess and I moved out here was to get away from it.”

“Man … how you both handled that back there.” He looked back at Laura and said, “You too, talking to your aunt like we were out for a Sunday drive.”

Laura shrugged, pretending it was nothing. Hope I didn’t pee myself …

“Who does Weasel work for?” asked Jack.

“He’s part of Balvinder’s gang,” replied Sy.

“You once told me that there were three gangs you were at odds with. Who are they?”

“Besides Balvinder, there’s Fateh and Quang’s gangs, but I know Weasel is with Balvinder,” said Sy.

Jack nodded as he wheeled through traffic. His adrenaline was still high and he kept one eye in the rearview mirror.

“Where did you learn to drive like this?” asked Sy, with a tinge of suspicion. “You handled yourself back there like you drove NASCAR.”

“Used to drive a cab once,” replied Jack.

“That figures.”

“Know anyone in the auto body business?” asked Jack.

“Damn right. Don’t worry about the bullet holes. I’ll have it fixed for you first thing Monday. No charge. I owe ya, man.”

Jack parked the SUV in the underground parking lot at the apartment complex and they went to Sy’s apartment.

Brewski, armed with a pistol and a sawed-off shotgun, said he would spend the night with Sy. Jack told Sy that he and Princess were going to return to their other apartment until they knew things were safe. Sy understood their concern. He said he would be calling a meeting with some people tomorrow and asked Jack if he would come. Jack said he would think about it.

Jack called a taxi and he and Laura were driven to an expensive apartment complex near Stanley Park. After a brief walk to ensure it was safe, they called Connie who gave them a ride back to their office.

Jack and Laura then spent the next two hours typing reports. Jack also called his boss, Staff-Sergeant Rosemary Wood, who demanded a meeting with him at eight in the morning.

It was two-thirty in the morning when he arrived home. He was surprised to see Natasha awake and reading in bed. She quickly put her book away and gave him a warm smile as he entered the bedroom.

“How are you doing? she asked.

“I’m great,” he replied, still feeling euphoric that he was alive.

“You sound happy. Have you gotten over yesterday’s court cases?”

“I don’t think I will ever get over it,” said Jack reflectively, “but I do appreciate that some things in my life are more important.”

“Oh? Such as?”

Jack paused and said, “Coming home to you.”

Natasha stared intently at Jack for a moment before smiling and saying, “Glad you finally have your priorities straight. How soon will it be before you’re finished this assignment? A week? A month? Longer?”

“The bad guy I was with tonight mentioned the nickname of the man I’m trying to identify. It shouldn’t take long. Some stuff is happening. I have to work tomorrow … early. It could wrap up within the week. Why?”

“Selfish reasons. I want you to myself. Sounds like I won’t have you tomorrow, either.”

“I’m here now,” Jack replied, reflecting on how close he had come to catching a bullet or two.

“Physically, yes, but I can see your thoughts are elsewhere. They have been a lot lately.”

“Sorry. It’s hard to concentrate sometimes. I really want to catch this guy.”

“I understand that part. There is always someone you really want to catch. I accept that and I want you to be able to concentrate on your work and come home safe. I don’t see you a lot, so when I do, it would be nice if you thought of me and not some criminal.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack stared briefly at Natasha and said, “Are you okay? You’ve seemed really tired lately … kind of run down.”

“It’s late. Damn right I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t have waited up. I could have slept at the UC apartment.”

“No, when you called at midnight, I said I wanted you to come home. It’s Saturday night … I want my guy to sleep with.”

“To sleep?” said Jack, suggestively, as he bent over and kissed her on the nape of her neck.

Natasha smiled and said, “That, too. So hurry and come to — hey, you’ve got broken glass stuck in your sweater. Looks like windshield glass.”

“Oh … that,” replied Jack, as he stood up and saw where Natasha was pointing. “I was in a fender bender tonight and rear-ended somebody. Nobody was hurt.”

“I thought you sounded strange when you called. Sounding all lovey-dovey.”

Jack shrugged and smiled in response.

“A rear-ender … sounds like your fault. See? You do need to concentrate on what you do.”

“I’d like to concentrate on your body.”

Half an hour later, Natasha’s breathing told Jack that she was asleep. He felt too anxious to sleep and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

Car chase and shoot-out on the streets.… The brass will go nuts. Sy was going beserk when I left him.… Somebody is going to die …

Chapter Twenty-Six

Whiskey Jake was the president of the east-side chapter of Satans Wrath. It was not yet eight o’clock on a Sunday morning when he arrived at the mansion belonging to Damien, the national president of the club. He didn’t question the order to attend.

He stopped at the electronic gate outside of Damien’s estate and looked into the closed-circuit television camera. Seconds later, the gate swung open and he drove inside. He parked his Mercedes beside a green Jaguar that belonged to Lance Morgan, who was the president of the west-side chapter. He then walked over and pressed the intercom button beside the main entrance and stared into another camera.

“Hi, Whiskey Jake,” responded a woman’s voice. “They’re out back. Go around the side. I’ll bring you a coffee.”

Vicki was Damien’s wife. At thirty-seven, she was eighteen years younger than Damien. Whiskey Jake thought she was sexy and attractive, but even though he was a giant of a man who towered over Damien, he knew better than to even fantasize when it came to Vicki. His loyalty to the club was above all else.

Whiskey Jake lumbered around to the back of the house and met up with Damien and Lance who were sitting in a gazebo near Damien’s swimming pool. Whiskey Jake hadn’t sat down yet when Vicki brought him a coffee.

“Black,” she said matter-of-factly, “two sugars,” before returning to the house.

Without comment, Damien and Lance stood up and the three men went for a walk. Damien had his house swept for bugs on a regular basis, but even in his gazebo he would not take a chance.

“Okay,” said Damien. “Sounds like The Brotherhood are at it again. First thing I hear on the news when I wake up is about a car chase and shootout on the streets last night. The police haven’t made any arrests, but are speculating that gangs involved in a turf war are responsible.”

“Yeah, I heard it on the way over,” said Whiskey Jake.

“First, what is the plus side?” asked Damien.

Whiskey Jake said, “The drive-by shootings have taken the heat off of us. Last night will help some more. The cop’s Organized Crime Task Force will focus on the shooters in The Brotherhood. Strictly bottom-end people. Maybe they’ll make a few arrests, seize some guns, get some publicity, and try to make themselves look good. Nothing to affect our club.”

“And the negative side?” asks Damien.

“Might affect our business to a small degree,” responded Whiskey Jake.

“Could do more than that,” said Lance. “Politicians could use public fear to posture for votes, maybe strengthen gang laws under the Criminal Code and give the OCTF more funding and manpower as a result of the shootings.”