Page 34 of Devil’s Disciples

“They weren’t.” Baker extended his arm. “Should they have been?”

Mort shook his hand. “We were talking about that noisy piece of German shit you drive.”

“The Porsche?” Baker asked, pronouncing the word Por-shuh, which was different than when Mort had said it.

Mort gave him a look. “Is that how you say it?”

“It’s the correct pronunciation. It’s a two-syllable word.”

“They should spell it different, then,” Mort said.

“They probably should.”

Baker was wearing jeans, black Converse low-tops, and a fitted black tee shirt that left little to the imagination. No differently than any other time when he was in my presence, I got lost in admiring him. Worried that I’d do something that gave away our little secret, I shifted my eyes away from them and began to fidget with a pen.

“You need anything, Andy?” Mort asked.

I looked up. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m gonna leave you two to it, then.” He slapped Baker on the shoulder. “She’s got some bad news for you, Bud.”

Baker looked at me. “What’s that?”

“Let me get out of here, first,” Mort said with a laugh. “I’ve got to try and get to Chula Vista before dark, and if you two start scrappin’, I’ll want to stay and watch.”

“Thanks, Mort,” I stood and then walked around my desk. “See you next week.”

“See ya, Kid,” he said over his shoulder.

As the sound of him going down the stairway diminished to nothing, I looked at Baker. He broke my gaze and looked away.

He went to the window and stared out at the street for a moment. After an awkward period of silence, he turned around. Worry washed over his face. I wanted to tell him the news, but his eyes told me it wasn’t a good time.

I decided to sit down and wait for the right time to tell him. I faced my desk. Before I took my first step I felt his hand on my shoulder. Hoping he was willing to talk about whatever seemed to be bothering him, I pivoted on the balls of my feet and spun around.

The look in his eyes had changed.

Drastically.

11

Baker

Since my introduction to this earth, I’d been tracked by US Marshals, stabbed twice, hit by a speeding truck while running from an ATF agent, chased by local police, shot at, and involved in more fights than I could ever accurately count. I’d been accused of much, convicted of nothing, and suspected of committing dozens upon dozens of various crimes since childhood.

Through the course of it all, I never faltered. Not once. Solid as a rock was how my MC brethren described me. Regardless of what life tossed in front of me, I knew I would never stumble, take pause, or deviate from my normal manner of behavior.

Being in Andy’s presence caused me to question my beliefs.

I’d formulated and carried out plans to rob banks during their business hours, break into Federal Savings and Loan institutions that were considered burglar-proof, and even relieved a political dignitary of his jewels while he was traveling in an armed motorcade.

But.

I couldn’t seem to concoct a way to rid myself of Andy.

For her safety – and for my well-being – I desperately needed to end what was developing between us. I was foolish for having fucked her in the first place. If I didn’t make a change quickly, Cash would eventually see us together.

When he did all bets were off.