Part 6. Destiny Is Mine

We chase misprinted lies

We face the path of time

And yet I fight, And yet I fight

This battle all alone

No one to cry to

No place to call home

(from Alice in Chains, Nutshell)

He felt like he'd been riding forever, his mind as numb as the coldness of his skin. Still, as he rode on through the still falling rain, not for a moment did Vin Tanner consider stopping. With one hand holding a steady turn on the throttle and his other pressed close to his side, trying to ease the burning pain that pierced through his skin, he kept his head tilted down, trying to avoid being blinded by the rain that hit his face like stinging insects, cleansing his wounds even as it chilled him to the bone.

The roads were slick with water and oil and so he tried to steer a steady course back to Purgatorio, not bothering to indicate, for there was little traffic around and he didn't want to move his hand unless he was forced to use his clutch to change gears. Red lights, parked cars, buildings, they all went by with no acknowledgement on his part.

He began to drift, his mind slipping around thoughts he knew he needed to hold on to. He needed to think about what he was going to say, yet all he could seem to grasp were the shivers that were running through the core of his spine like a blade of ice seeking to break him from within. And so he escaped to another time, back when his world seemed no larger than he and his mother. There had never been a time of carefree happiness in his world, he'd been robbed of that by the son of a bitch who had never been a father to him, but there had been moments of peace; too few moments of relative quiet that he would always hold near to him.

When he thought of his mother, he thought of her beautiful face framed in sunlight. He remembered her smile, the smile that had never seemed to chase away the sadness or wistfulness from her eyes. Not even he could do that for her, but she had loved him, that he had always felt. She had comforted him and tried all she could to shelter him from the life she had fallen into, although he had not understood that then. He wondered, if she had not died, what would he have learned of her? He never had known her story, how she had come to the pass she had, with the man she had. What he did know, was that she had hated his father, with everything she had, and had wanted a better life for them both… and that was enough for him.

Hearing a horn beep he blinked and swerved at the same time, avoiding the oncoming car he had drifted over to meet. The traffic was sparse, for it seemed no-one wanted to be a part of this God-awful night… No-one, that was, except for him. And very much a part of it he was, living it, feeling its frigid embrace with every part of his body until it took root in his very soul. He could not escape the path he was on, no matter how his mind wished it. His was a journey that could only end when justice was served from his hand; when the brutal murder of his mother was avenged - and when retribution was had for the countless lives his father had taken and destroyed, his own but one on a long and growing list.

Only a solitary car, some distance behind, joined him on his black road toward the darker side of the city. The driver of that car had heaved a large sigh as he had seen the bike swerve at the last moment to miss a head on collision with the oncoming car. Buck Wilmington wondered at that moment why the hell helmet laws weren't enforced, for he could only imagine the mess the Texan would have been in if he had hit that car, not to mention how pissed off Chris would be at him for having let it happen...

He had to admit, he had no reason to dislike the NTF agent, now that he knew who he was. His initial dislike had come from believing he was a Joker, so now that he knew he was on the right side of the law, he really had no excuse... and yet there was something about him that went against his grain. Vin Tanner just seemed like a man who's ambition would be stopped by nothing, and perhaps he didn't want to see Chris hurt by placing himself in the path of that.

At that moment, Vin's own thoughts had turned back to Larabee, and once more he had the feeling that he'd met him before, like he was not a stranger to him. He knew then, without knowing why, that he was a man he could trust. Something told him their paths would soon cross again. Right now though, he was on his own and if he didn't get to shelter soon he was going to slide right off his seat and take his place on the slick, wet road. He knew if that happened no-one would stop and help him, an outlaw, and by all outward appearances that is what he was.

He turned down a darkened side street and for the first time became suspicious of the car still behind him, watching in his left side mirror a long moment later as it turned to follow him.

..

Chris had listened to the bike roar away for a long while, its rumbling engine riding above the other noises of the city. He'd looked down then, water dripping from his chin and the too-long length of his fringe as he noticed a rumpled piece of material on the sodden ground where it rested in a puddle at his feet. Frowning slightly, he bent to pick it up and slowly stood, contemplating the item a moment, realising then that it was Tanner's t-shirt, left where he had discarded it in his fight. He felt a slight chill run the length of his spine, up to the skin of his cold, wet neck where it was exposed over the collar of his jacket. His bleeding arm was forgotten for the moment as he stood lost in thought.

"They're on their way," he'd vaguely heard Nathan say, but his mind was lost in the image of the NTF agent that had ridden off wounded into the night. He merely nodded, unable to shake a sense of foreboding, as he looked at the material clutched in his hand as if it could tell him the future.

Nathan hardened his glance up at Chris as he crouched again by Ezra's side and put his phone back in his pocket, seeing the concentration on his leader's face. There was a pause in the rain, for which he was grateful, although he knew it would not last. There was hardly a star to be seen in the dismal sky and more heavy cloud would no doubt soon move over to unload its burden on them.

"How did you know who he was?" he asked.

Blinking as he looked at Nathan, Chris shook off his dark feeling. "It's what Benning and Travis came to see me about. They knew he was transferring over and think he's the one for our team. No-one is supposed to know yet."

"And what do you think, now that you've seen him?"

Chris's face turned thoughtful. "I think he's the man we've been looking for."

Nathan's eyebrow rose a little. "He can sure as hell shoot…" he conceded, remembering again the deadly accuracy of Vin Tanner's aim.

Chris finally looked at Nathan, his eyebrow raising. "But..."

"...but he don't exactly seem like a team player."

"He warned us that they were here for you. That's how we knew to come out here."

Nathan was surprised. "How did he know who you were? He seemed surprised when you introduced the team."

Chris's lip curled at that as he gave his head a slight shake. He had no idea. His eyes left Nathan's but the dark man had already seen the set look on his Captain's face; Larabee had already made the decision to recruit Tanner.

..

Vin finally saw the neon sign of the Shaking Hand up ahead and mustered the remainder of his will to complete his journey. It was just a matter of getting off his bike, walking inside, finding the doc that he hoped would be there as he had most other nights that week and getting himself seen to… A daunting near future when listed in his mind and so he concentrated on one task at a time. Park. Turn bike off. Put down stand. Take out keys. Get up. Easier said than done.

He hesitated a moment and it was a setback, for he lost his momentum and simply sat in the rain a moment, cold keys clutched in his hand as he sought strength, his form illuminated in the constantly alternating blue

and red light shining down from the neon sign, which flashed lazily above the doorway.

Bounce eyed him from his dark alcove, seeing his freshly beat up face in the light and openly curious as to what had happened. The Texan was just sitting on his bike, face staring blankly ahead, oblivious to the misty rain that shrouded him. He opened the door and leant inside and caught the attention of Bower, standing guard inside the doorway now that the bar was getting busier.

"Tell Jake there's trouble."

Vin was aware of the massive biker's scrutiny and knew he was spreading the word as he watched him duck his head inside the thick doors. He wished he could ask him to lend him a hand getting off his bike, but there was about as much chance of him doing that as there was Keg and the other men coming back from the dead so he didn't have to deal with this alone. The worst part, the part that was eating at him, was that he knew the only reason he was able to walk into this place right now, was because they were all dead. If even one of them had lived, his life as he knew it would be radically altered.

He replayed again the sight of the young guard staggering back under the impact of his well placed bullet and he couldn't help but have a fleeting moment of doubt. He was a man, above all else, and he felt guilt. Guilt that he was sitting there and Keg was at that moment lying in a pool of his own blood, at the will of his own hand; guilt that a kid had had to die when he was just trying to protect a man he thought was his brother. Taking a life was not something he was proud of, nor was it something he could casually dismiss. Tonight he'd taken more than one. And the guilt was no stranger to him.

Still, dwelling on emotion was not going to get him anywhere. The only help he was going to get would have to come from within, he expected nothing more, had never received anything more. So it was that he put his weight on his left leg and swung his injured knee over his low seat, turning the handle bars slightly to the left as he did so to balance the bike, before starting for the doorway.

As he reached the sheltered entrance, he was lit by twin headlights passing slowly by and turned his head toward the sight. He couldn't make out the driver, but instinct told him he'd been followed by one of Larabee's men. From the size of the ridiculously large, totally conspicuous car, he concluded that it was most likely Buck Wilmington. Mere moments with the man had given him the impression of an extrovert; the car seemed a suitable match.

"Doc still in?" he asked, turning back to the doorway with one hand pressed to his side, struggling to appear

outwardly composed as he met Bounce's curious eyes.

Bounce eyed the blood coming from Vin's face as he nodded, looking down to the hand held close to his side with a raised brow. "Jake's in too. You might wanna see him first."

Damn. Having to explain himself to the second in command was not something he'd anticipated. Saying nothing more, he walked past the larger man and paused a moment to adjust to the dimness of the light, just as he had only a short while earlier. Only now he was feeling truly vulnerable, for his energy was fast fleeing and he had no true allies that he knew of in town. Back in Texas, he knew every member like the back of his hand but here, although familiar with them, only Keg had been someone he could trust to watch his back, and now he was gone.

It was all he could do to appear outwardly calm as the penetrating eyes of the now crowded room cut through the darkness like thin, criss-crossing red lasers from all angles, searing into his skin and reflecting off the moisture still coating his face until he thought he might burn from it… Men stared and conversations paused as the visiting Texan walked slowly across the floor, the crowd clearing a slow path for him as he met their curious glances with a hard look, even as he shivered through his soaked jacket.

He didn't look at anyone in particular, but he took them all in as he headed toward the bar to ask after the doc. And then in a heartbeat, his world turned upside down.

"You lookin' for a warm bed, honey?"

Amidst the whirlwind of that night, despite the shrouding of his mind in pain and coldness, he would always

remember the sound of that sultry voice, the first time that he ever laid eyes on Suzy Munroe. In one glance, his adrenaline surged and then his blood stopped flowing altogether, quickly withdrawing from his system and taking with it his breath, his energy and for a moment, his ability to think.

Munroe was a name Suzy had given herself, after the famous Marilyn, for she had never known her real last name and liked the thought of fashioning herself after the sex kitten that was her idol. She was, however, in no way a carbon copy of anyone, as unique as each dawn was forever different sprayed across the sky. She was Suzy. She was complicated, she was sexy, but above all else, she was Billy 'The Blade's' woman and had been since she was fifteen years old.

Vin, however, knew none of this. At that moment of meeting he saw only a face that was forever imprinted in his mind, a face he had never been sure he might recognise after twenty-two years of its absence from his life… A face that was the very image of his mothers. His shock and confusion was impossible to hide, he was drowning in a sudden and powerful wave of memories, thrown over him with an unstoppable intensity that he would not have been able to prepare himself for, even had he been forewarned.

Something in his face faltered her predatory smile. Not an inch of him moved as he stood before her, but she saw the shift in his vivid blue eyes, looking without seeing her, haunted almost. It was by no means the usual reaction she had from men. It didn't matter what background a man had or what he did for a living, or even what age he was, she had seen her affect on all of them, men were men. Except maybe this one. There was something to his expression that had her biting back her next taunt and stepping forward instead to put a hand to his bruised and bleeding lip.

"Seen a ghost, sugar?" she whispered. Nevertheless, she could not help adding, "You sure are a cute one, reckon I wouldn't kick you out of bed for bleedin' all over my sheets."

Vin had not yet found his voice, was still shocked at the sight of her before him and was feeling her touch like a brand to his cold skin. He thought he'd forgotten the face of his mother over time, with not even a picture to remind him of her, but in one glimpse of pale skin and dark hair, he'd been thrown back to his childhood, back through an onslaught of memories that left him blind-sided. After all he had endured that night, this one woman was threatening to finally knock him off his feet by her presence alone.

A rough and mighty arm coming down around her shoulders broke the moment and Vin watched her try in vain to pull away from the man who had ensnared her.

"Well now Suz', looks like I can't leave ya alone fer a second now, does it, 'fore yer out tryin'a find a way ta fill that gapin' hole 'tween yer legs."

Suzy, indifferent to the size of the man, managed to step out of his reach and merely smile at him, her wet, red lips glistening as she ran her tongue along her teeth. It was Jake, her constant guard and Billy's best friend and Vice President of the Denver Chapter.

"Billy isn't cutting through my leesh tonight. I came to have some fun." She looked again at Vin, who's eyes had lost the haunted look as his focus had shifted to Jake.

Jake looked at the Texan who had yet to move or speak and saw his eyes focused on him. He knew who the man was. As Billy's right hand man, he knew everything that went on in their territory. He knew about every single member that was voted in, because they had to have a unanimous vote from the club. This man, however, had come with the backing of Sugar-Ray, so there had been little question of his worthiness. Sugar-Ray was a well respected and long time member. If he considered this man a brother, then so would the club, the vote was a formality, but a necessity. Besides, Turner had won the club a lot of money with his fights, not to mention the money he'd personally pocketed, so he was glad to finally meet him. He'd missed meeting him in Texas when he'd gone down to sort out the mess with the Fed bust, when they had lost three loyal brothers, because they had refused him bail.

"Turner."

Vin was struggling to maintain his calm. In the second time in as many minutes, another face from his past had reared its unexpected head and this time, the wash of memories were in no way fond. He had never seen a clear photo of the vice president and the grainy prints that he had seen in newspapers and on the website had never clued him in to who the man actually was. It was through a child's eyes that he had taken images that had been burnt forever into his mind. The face was older, twenty-two years older in fact, but the red hair and long, unkempt beard were the same. Still fashioned in the same style, looking as though it had never had a decent wash and pulled back in a scraggly, long platte, his face appeared sharp in the light, just like it had when it had hovered over his mother on the floor, laughing and groaning into her face…

Vin felt his hands clench unwittingly into fists of renewed rage, his chest on fire more now from the pain of fury restrained than from his battered ribs. Jake's eyes narrowed as he took in Vin's shoddy appearance, registering the blood at his side and the wounds that marred his skin and mistook the anger he suddenly saw in his face for pain.

Vin saw the frown form on the man's face, but his inner struggle was too fierce. He wanted to rip this man

apart, wanted to scalp that head of hair and see his white skull glisten through the roof of his head as he held the hair above him in triumph and slowly watched him die… An act of terrible violence that he had never fully grasped before, but right then seemed to understand completely. Yet he could not. Knew he could not, for then his quest for revenge would be stopped at the death of only one of the men he needed to bring down - and that was not what he had lived for all these years.

He tried a slow, calming breath, stopped short by the reluctance of his ribcage to expand to the depth he needed it to. He had to rationalise not killing him. He was getting close now, he told himself. After long, hard years of chasing their paths he was now right in their very nest. His past was finally coming to meet him just as he had always hoped it would. Lomely had surprised him with the transfer ultimatum that seemed completely unprecedented and he had to admit, it had happened so fast he had not had the time to sit down and realise what an opportunity it really was, but now he knew that he was going to use every day of his three month's to the fullest. In the course of just one week he'd gotten closer to his goals than he had since the day he'd set out to exact revenge on those that had destroyed his life. He just had to be patient…

And so whilst his fists remained clenched, he managed to keep the raw anger from his voice as he grated roughly in greeting, "Jake."

Jake frowned as he nodded down at Vin's bloodied hand but before he could speak again, Suzy spoke once more.

"You got a first name, sugar?"

Vin could not bring himself to look at her again. He was thankful when Jake roughly shoved her away. He couldn't think with her near him.

"Go play over there for a while before I chuck you on the bike and take you back now."

She threw a look of promised retribution at Jake before taking another look at Vin, her face showing a not so subtle promise as she walked away. She would get what she wanted in time, for Suzy too, had mastered the art of patience, but for now she did not fancy a cold, dark ride back to the clubhouse in the rain.

Chooks' had walked up as Suzy had walked off, laughing at her as he passed her and turning to make a crack about her ass as she walked and pulled a finger sign back at him in response. He stopped and looked at Vin and Jake staring each other down.

"Rest'a the boys get lost?" he asked, taking in Vin's appearance. He had known Decker was chasing a fight with Turner and had cared little except to see what the outcome would be. He was curious himself to see how the Texan handled himself in a fight. His reputation had preceded his arrival for years.

Vin kept his face neutral as he exchanged a silent, assessing gaze with the man who ran the bar. There was an obvious smirk on Chooks' face that told him he knew full well where his beaten up face had come from. Had he called Decker to let him know where he was?

"If ya call hell lost," he said in his quiet drawl. He flicked a glance around the room before his eyes settled once more on Jake's, ignoring Chooks. It clearly told the bar manager that Jake was the only one he would answer to. "They're dead," he said simply, eyes hard.

Chooks' own eyes narrowed slightly as the noise of the room fell in time with the murmurs that echoed Vin's quiet statement. Chooks deferred to Jake, not sure what to make of Turner's words but the Vice President merely raised a brow at the wounded, wet man standing before them, with something akin to amusement in his eyes. Decker had been a prick through and through and he'd been loud about his desire to take Turner out. He'd been warned not to interfere with a fellow brother but obviously his hatred had gotten the better of him. As far as Jake was concerned, a man who could not control his emotions was a liability to the club and perhaps Decker had had it coming. Still, no death of a brother was without repercussion. To stop the voices rising around the room, knowing how the boys were likely to go off half cocked if not stopped, he kept his voice calm.

"Well now," he put an arm around Vin to steer him to the back office, "his brother sure ain't gonna like that. Let's take this somewhere more private, shall we?" He called to the room, "Nobody leaves the bar until we hear the whole story... Get the doc," he told Chooks in a lower voice.

While Vin was glad that the doc was being called for, it didn't lessen the desire he had to take the heavy arm guiding him over his shoulders and snap it in two. As they reached the back office door, a small, frail-looking older man stepped before them, his face a little flushed. He was one of the oldest members of the club and his constant refusals to retire had led to him being put to work monitoring the police channels.

"There's something goin' down in the city, the cops are all over the club," he informed Jake.

"Good work, keep listening in," Jake humoured him sincerely. The older man took in the sight of Vin and nodded, moving away.

As they entered the room they were met with the sight of another wiry biker sitting behind Chook's desk, but this one was naked and covered in tattoo's. There were remnants of cocaine on the desk before him and his forehead was resting on the dark wood. Hearing them enter he lifted glassy eyes to take them all in.

"Playing boss-man, Dermett?" Chooks asked him as he followed them into the room.

Dermett didn't answer, just gave a slight grunt of acknowledgement as his grin widened, to which Chooks raised a brow, telling Dermett to get the hell out of his office.

Dermett was slightly agitated and thinking he'd leave when he was ready, until he finally realised it was Jake

standing there staring at him. He stood hastily then, pulling his pants up roughly as he did so and

catching skin in his zipper as he hurried to do them up. His cry of pain was met by sympathetic winces from the three onlookers as he tried to undo the metal teeth that were maiming him. When he'd succeeded in the delicate extraction he reached a hand under the table and with a cry of "OW!" from beneath the desk, a head of blonde, tousled hair came up to see what the hell was going on.

"Sorry," Dermett stammered to the men, pulling out the still protesting woman. "Come on, darlin', you can finish me off somewhere else."

"Yeah preferably somewhere that doesn't put your bare ass on my chair!" Chooks was pissed.

The man gave Vin no more than a passing glance as he left, tugging the scantily clad woman behind him and walking gingerly from his recent mishap with his jeans. The woman, however, had other plans. She stopped before Jake, high as a kite and grinned at him through her smeared lipstick. She knew who he was. To her, he was a man of great power and could get her everything she wanted. She sniffed habitually before opening her mouth to speak, but was dragged away from the amused Vice President, who was well used to such behaviour from women, by a suddenly hurried Dermett.

Chooks shook his head slightly as Dermett left with the woman and closed the door behind them, only to have it opened again by Doc, who shuffled his way in.

"Where's the fire?" the tall, lanky man asked, pushing his thin, wire-rimmed glasses up his nose.

Chooks pointed to Vin and the Doc moved unsteadily toward him, already three pints down on a short evening. Jake gestured to the black leather couch and watched as Vin sat slowly, hand still held to his side, his pain restrained but obvious. His face was cut and bleeding, dark new bruises mingling with old as he tried to keep his body taut as it sank into the leather.

Jake then moved to the desk and went for the top drawer, finding a packet of cigarettes just as he knew he would. He came around to Vin and offered him one, the Texan shaking his head and grinding his jaw at the same time as he shifted on the couch. The second in command merely shrugged and sat back on the edge of Chooks' desk, lighting his smoke as the Doc unsteadily knelt before the Texan.

Any member of the club dying was a big deal, so the chapter vice president knew that the situation had to be

handled carefully before the news was leaked to the rest of the club. Billy in particular would be pissed if he wasn't the first to hear. More than that, though, Texan or not they had lost some brother's tonight. Somebody was responsible for that and according to the law of nature, for every action there was a reaction.

Vin, too, knew how delicate the situation was and he had the added burden of knowing that what he said now could alter the outcome. He needed to think straight... He barely noticed the luxurious black leather beneath him, its soft texture lost to the wet denim of his jeans. The room was in stark contrast to the rest of the establishment, the only betrayal of the amount of money that was behind it, with expensive furniture and a bar with top shelf spirits lining its mirrored glass shelves.

Stealing a glance across at Jake, he realised he was fighting a losing battle to contain his lust for revenge. One of the men who had helped kill his mother was casually standing mere feet away smoking a cigarette and he could do nothing… not if he wanted to see this thing through to the end... but it didn't make it any easier to take right then.

"Jesus I can't make out the new from the old," the Doc grumbled, not knowing where to start as he took in the signs of injury that were visible beyond Vin's jacket.

The Doc was a man not yet past his thirties, but appeared to be approaching fifty. He had once thought himself a decent enough man, not considering his white-collar crimes to be high on the scale of evil. A regular house doctor, he'd been jailed for two years, guilty of ripping off the government in what he had considered a foolproof insurance scam. He'd come out of jail a changed man - and a considerably more educated one. He'd never known what really went on on the darker side of the street until he'd had his freedom taken away. He'd lived life well and hard after that, but it had taken its toll.

Vin sat up straighter and pulled his jacket further aside. "Jist deal with this one."

The Doc's eyes narrowed as he looked at the still bleeding, deep gash that tore through skin mottled with bruises both new and old. He put out a surprisingly steady hand to probe the lean flesh as he studied the wound with a serious expression.

"This the only one?"

Vin flinched as the Doc's fingers brought him inevitable pain. "Yep," he breathed.

The Doc said nothing for a moment, prodding at the wound so that Vin thought he might actually pass out. Not an entirely unwelcome idea at that moment. The wire rims came up to look at him, scrutinising his face, knowing there were previous injuries here and he could tell by Vin's sharp breathing that there was more than the bullet wound bothering him. "You got some cracked ribs?"

"Jist deal with what's bleedin'," he said in a gruff voice, his eyes telling the man not to make a fuss. He would not show any more weakness than he had to.

Finally, the tall man turned on his heels and looked up at Jake through his glasses. "I can run him into County, we've got a man on tonight."

"You can't stitch it here?" Jake asked, having watched the exchange in silent contemplation.

The Doc looked at the wound again. "He's going to need something for infection. And this surrounding bruising is deep..." His voice trailed off as he looked at Vin's face, studying it a moment. "Looks like he's already coming down with something, shivering and sweating like he is."

Vin let them talk around him for the moment, worried more about trying to work out the story in his head than in what the Doc's prognosis was. The questions were going to start and he had to be ready.

Jake looked at Vin a moment. "Wait outside then," he told the former doctor, who immediately complied.

Vin watched the Doc leave and resisted the urge to sigh. This was it… the inquisition he wasn't ready for. He was surprised by the first question.

"You lose your shirt somewhere out there?"

Frowning slightly he looked down, realising he wasn't wearing his t-shirt. He had an image of throwing it to the ground as his mind spun. With the smoothness that had kept him alive, in much worse situations, he showed a cunning, smug grin.

"Traded it. Bitch said she wanted a real bikers' shirt… authentic-like…"

Chooks broke his silence from where he leant nearby against the wall, always interested in a dirty story. "Traded it? At the club?"

Vin was crass in his reply, for they would expect no less. The zipper-man that they'd walked in on earlier had given him an idea. "She blew me right on the dance floor," he frowned slightly then, going with his story as he looked down at his pants in apparent momentary regret. "She had some fuck'n teeth, though…" Vin sighed inwardly as the bar manager chuckled slightly, buying his story without question. One hurdle leapt...

"What happened to Decker? And where's Flea and Keg?"

They would have their answers, one way or another and better they come from him than a police informant.

"They're all dead." He let this news settle a moment before taking up his story, looking Jake in the eye. "Keg an' me had the guy outside... were gettin' stuck into him… then Decker an' Flea show up an' make it a whole lot bigger than it had ta be." He looked angry then, which was not hard to pull off. With the thought 'the best defence is an offence' in mind he looked right into Chooks' eyes with a silent accusation. "Keg, Flea, Decker, some security kid… dead, all of 'em in one big fuck'n mess that didn't have ta happen. Decker came down there ta take a shot at me an' it weren't the time or place... but I reckon ya'll know that already..."

Chooks' eyes fired with anger but Jake merely stared back, weighing each word, sifting through every syllable, watching…

"Decker started on me an' we were so into it that we never heard the cops sneakin' up from the carpark. They were comin' ta check out the noise I guess, or someone tipped 'em off, but the second they popped their heads out Decker pulled his gun an' fired, negotiation fuckin' over." He bit back a curse for emphasis. "Then everythin' went ta hell."

He paused a moment then said with derision, "His eyes were fried, they didn't have a choice but ta fire back."

"There's always a choice," Jake said, with no judgement in his tone.

Vin knew that to say more then would be a mistake. He needed to keep it short, get it right. He needed to appear weary, yet frustrated, angry and upset over the loss all at once. All of this, while he tried his damnedest not to fall off the couch. It was a moment before Chooks spoke into the silence following his statement and his unexpected words brought Vin relief.

"I told that idiot to settle down earlier tonight. The guy had a nose like a fucking vacuum cleaner." He shook his head angrily, accepting Vin's words.

"I'm sure you did," Jake told Chooks quietly and Vin picked up on the sarcasm. Chooks was obviously trying to lay the blame on Decker as well, having known what he was up to and wanting to make sure he didn't get himself caught up in it.

He didn't dare look up, could only hope they were buying into his story.

"But there weren't no surveillance scheduled for tonight, why were the cops there?" Chooks finally asked, looking at Jake.

Vin shook his head slightly. "Don't think they were on duty… I saw 'em upstairs and I think they were jist out fer a drink. They mighta been headin' home through the carpark or someone mighta tipped 'em off. They showed up right after Decker and Flea did..." He didn't say it outright, but he wanted to plant the seed.

Chooks was still watching him, but he was buying it, he thought. He had better, cos if he didn't, they wouldn't be letting him go any time soon.

"And how'd you get away?" Jake asked in the same quiet voice, continuing his close watch of Vin's expression and body language.

Vin looked up and again met Jake's gaze. "I saw 'em go down, I was near a pillar... dove behind it, one of 'em clipped me as I made a run for it." He was already thinking of what question might come next when his vision blurred and he felt himself slipping forward, managing to get an elbow onto his knee and his hand up to rest his forehead in before he fell any further forward.

Chooks threw a glance at Jake. The young Texan was going to pass out. "Did they see you? Can they identify you?" Jake asked.

Vin shook his head, but did not raise it again, his voice sounding tired. "No... was too dark... there was too much goin' on. 'Less there were cameras." As he said this last he considered that possibility and cursed his fading brain. Would the ATF agent posing as the manager see to that?

Jake took another long, slow drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the floor and squashing it with his boot. He didn't need to see Chooks' face to know how pissed off he would look over the singed, plush carpet.

"When we're done here call Mitri and make sure the tapes are taken care of," he told the angry man without taking his eyes off Vin.

After another pause he spoke again. "Keg was an old friend of yours..."

Vin looked up tiredly, the VP's words stirring fresh emotion that he allowed to run across his face.

"... I would think you would want revenge for his death."

Vin looked him in the eye, a heavy feeling falling into the pit of his stomach. "Who says I don't?" He gave a small shake of his head. "I've known Keg since I's a kid... but those cops... they couldn't back away from what Decker threw at 'em." He shook his head slowly, "I reckon it's the cops that are gonna be pissed at us over this one. We attacked first, unprovoked."

Jake felt a smile turn his lips. The boy was a thinker, he'd give him that. In fact, he was impressed that he'd thought that far ahead. Some of the boys would act first and try and take out the whole damn force before they thought it through. On the other hand, there was a chance he was lying to cover his own ass. The fact that he was the only one to make it out alive was not easy to buy. Perhaps it meant he was simply a coward and hadn't backed his brothers...

"You don't find it strange you're the only one to walk away tonight?"

Vin scowled in protest as he felt a surge of anger that he was sitting there defending himself to a man that he would rather be choking to death with his bare hands. "I did everythin' I could."

After another too long silence Jake leant back. "Of course you did..."

Vin had a hard time trying to work out if the man believed him, for his tone gave nothing away.

"Go see Doc and get cleaned up and then I'll get one of the boys to take you out to headquarters before this hits the news."

Vin pushed up off the armrest and stood unsteadily, fighting the spin of the room before he managed to get his balance and headed to the door, meeting over. He had no idea what Jake was going to do now and that bothered him. He was pretty good at reading men, but he had to give the man credit, he was smarter than he'd thought he would be. He could sense his mind at work as he'd looked at him in that silent way. A man who chose his words very carefully, that was something Vin could understand well. Whatever happened, he was going out to the headquarters, and that alone was a step in the right direction. That is where he would find his father.

Chooks had been an easier sell, but the man held no weight with the club. He would have to come up with

something better before he reached headquarters and had to go over it all again. He found the Doc, who had gone back to his table for his fourth beer on the way out. This was going to be an interesting journey…

Back inside the office Jake lit another cigarette and looked at Chooks. "You buy all that?" He didn't really put much stock in his opinion, Chooks was not a known thinker, but he was loyal.

The bar manager looked hard at Jake, trying to determine what the vice-president wanted him to think and failing, gave a slight shrug.

Jake merely gave a short grunt and moved around to sit at the desk, reaching for the phone. He had to let Billy know what had happened before someone else did.

"You want me to call Mitri?" Chooks asked as Jake started dialling on his phone.

"Find another phone."

And with that Chooks tried and failed to check his annoyance that he was being kicked out of his own office to do the man's bidding.