TWO.

Part 13. The Home Fires' Burning

7pm, Next Evening

Vin stared sightlessly out of the window of the old pickup, as oblivious to the flattened landscape that now whirled by as he had been hours before, when he'd first been driven out of the city. His body, although still aching and sore as it would be for some time, felt rested. He felt comfortable, clothed in his own worn jeans and faded navy t-shirt, his jacket having found its way back to him over the course of his stay in the hospital.

Now that he'd signed the papers, which had committed him to a city he knew little about and a team of men he knew even less, he had managed to stop wondering about how it had come about. Strangely, the ATF team was the only thing that seemed solid in the whole transformation that was sweeping him along it's wild path that led to the feet of just one man; his father.

He felt a stirring of anticipation at the thought of working with Larabee and his men, something he had not felt towards his work in a long, long time. Perhaps, when this was over, he could look forward to a fresh new direction in his career, if not his life. After hours and hours of circling through countless thoughts, it had finally come to him in the early hours of the morning; he'd been letting himself be swept along. It was time to get on with it again. If he allowed his thoughts to be filled with the man that had sent his life veering off course, he was giving him power. And that was one thing that he was not willing to do. It was time to use the new-found advantage that he was not working alone.

After discussing his plans to head out to the club's headquarters, he'd told Larabee he'd make contact within a few days, and he was going to make sure he used that time well.

"Gotta stop for gas."

He didn't turn his head from the window to look at Sugar, who had picked him up from the hospital. He was strangely glad that it was him driving him out to the next phase of his journey, as he now thought of it. Even though he knew the man was not the most settled of people, liable to snap to violence in the blink of an eye, at least it was someone he knew.

"You feelin' ok?"

Finally he looked from the darkening terrain and was surprised at the concern he saw in the hard, albeit aging, face. Up ahead he could see the lights of a solitary gas station, rising up against the flat land.

"Now that I'm outta that place." And he meant it.

"You haven't been out to the clubhouse before, have you."

Vin shook his head. "Not this one."

Sugar looked serious as he pulled into the station and stopped the car. He turned to Vin, no easy feat given his size and the close proximity of his chest to the large steering wheel.

"You watch yer back out there."

Vin frowned. This was unusual behaviour, to say the least. Sugar was just not a man to show open concern – to anyone. His voice was low and steady. "You sayin' I got trouble?"

The weathered face betrayed no emotion, the skin of his shaved head shining in the yellow neon light of the station and the artificial light reflecting in his eyes. "All I'm sayin' is, keep yer head down an' watch yer back."

For a moment Vin thought he was done, but he spoke again, the words not easily said. "Somethin's goin' on out here. It ain't like back home, these boys operate at another level an' they got their own agenda. You were right when you said they don't think of us as the brothers they should."

Vin said nothing, but Sugar wasn't done.

"I mean it. Watch yer back," he told him again. "Billy's… well, he's a loose cannon."

'An' that ain't all he is...' "Why we headin' out there then? We could stay in the city 'til the funeral if we're not

welcome."

"Cos our boys have started turnin' up already. I'm just tellin' ya ta be careful 'til we get some more friendlies down here."

It was the frankest conversation he'd ever had with the man and he was disturbed by it, yet sensed he was required to contribute something.

"Ya know… when ya brought me inta this club, ya told me I was joinin' a brotherhood - don't much feel like it 'right now."

Sugar looked almost wistful. "Times've changed. Didn't used to be this in-fightin' like there is now. The men've gotten… greedier somehow. Seems the club don't stand for all it used to." He sat up a little higher in his seat. "But to some of us it still matters. Eddie'll be here soon. He'll shake some of these boys out of their nests."

Vin was still surprised to hear that the club's overall president was coming to town. He didn't tend to move around much out of Texas these days, a man heading towards his late sixties as he was. He'd discussed with Larabee earlier that the club would have to sneak him over the border into the state. Edmund Alger was a man who was allowed into very few countries, his movements of great interest to authorities world wide. If he was coming to town, it meant there was something serious to tend to.

Larabee had been shocked at Vin's suggestion that they not react to his arrival when they'd spoken the day before in the hospital.

"Are you serious?" the Captain had asked him, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. After all, to knowingly let an infamous crime boss into your territory was crazy, as far as he could see.

"He's comin' here ta clean out the Chapter," he'd told him and Josiah both, trying to make them see. "Either he'll expose whatever they've got goin' on here and demand a cut, or he'll just shut 'em down. Either way, it's a chance ta see what they've got goin' on... There's a division startin' 'tween Denver an' the rest'a the country. Billy's gone too far, he's created his own entity an' pissed the rest of the club off. Eddie might just do our work for us an' take him out himself, if we give him enough lead."

What Vin didn't say is that he had been thinking about what Billy might be planning very carefully. If Billy was, in fact, looking to take Eddie out, then he himself might have some skills that he might consider handy. He was thinking perhaps it was time to play his sniper card, which until then he had kept carefully hidden.

Meanwhile Chris had been listening to Vin's words with just as much care. He hadn't brought him into the team to ignore the wisdom he could impart. Right then, the undercover agent knew a hell of a lot more than they did about what was going on in the club.

"Ya have ta trust me," Vin had said then, and in the face of everything that had been said in that room that day, they knew he was right.

"Alright. We'll handle this your way. But you'd better hope you know these men as well as you think you do or we're making one hell of a mistake opening our door to this guy. And I want frequent contact."

Vin had simply nodded, glad that they had decided to trust him. He'd met Eddie many a time, based in Texas as he had been, but the club veteran pretty much kept to himself, his days of hell-raising, free roving now pretty much gone. He'd settled into the role of an off-base leader with his tight knit of close friends that he had originally started the club with, mostly Vietnam veterans like himself. He still ruled over the club's activities, but his physical participation was not as high. He'd set himself up for easy retirement and together with his friends, was starting to live it early.

There were no guarantees, but he knew that Eddie's presence would shake things up to their advantage. It wouldn't hurt to have a man like him on their side, aiming to boot Billy from his throne. Now, sitting with Sugar in the deserted gas station, Vin wondered again about Eddie coming out in person. While

he would be glad to see Billy taken down, this wasn't a scenario he was going to allow to happen. In his mind, there was only one way Billy was going to go down - and it was going to be by his hand.

"There's somethin' else you need to know."

He brought his attention back to Sugar as a frown came to his face, puckering the tape above his eye. In all the time he'd known Sugar, the man had never looked so concerned. It was starting to unnerve him.

"By now they would've worked out it was me that got ya off the hook with the girl."

Vin looked at him sharply. Had that girl really been assaulted, only to be silenced by Sugar?

"I did what needed to be done." Seeing Vin's expression he frowned. "What, you'd prefer to be sittin' in jail awaitin' a trial?"

No, but I'd prefer the truth to come out..."I'd jist been wonderin' what happened to change her mind, now I guess I know. But silencin' her's one thing, what about the evidence?"

Sugar smiled. "I got my ways." His face darkened again. "I'm tellin' ya this 'cos I know Billy'll be pissed about it. You were set ta take that rap, an that's a fact."

Vin swore and rested his head back on the seat. So it was true. But why? He turned his head to the side to look at Sugar, wanting to see his reaction. "Jist cos I's the only Texan handy?"

"That's probably part of it. I reckon he doesn't think ya did enough at the shootin' walkin' away like ya did."

Vin's eyes sharpened. Did Sugar think the same thing? "What the hell would've made 'em happy, if I'd died too?"

Even while it explained things, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. Decker's words were still clear in his mind, reminding him that there was someone out there who didn't want him around, who had wanted him out of the picture before he'd come to Denver. If Larabee got a whiff of that piece of information he would be pulled out so fast his head would spin.

"This thing with Decker, how far did it go?" Sugar asked then, as if reading his mind and again Vin was unable to hide his surprise.

He thought hard and fast. Could he trust Sugar? For all he knew, it was him trying to take him down. He shrugged as if he hadn't thought about it. "He always had it in fer me, but this had nothin' ta do with him, 'less he set it up 'fore he died."

"He's got a lot of friends up here… And he's got a brother."

Vin didn't know Decker's brother Judd, but he'd heard about him. Another wild card. He realised Sugar was studying him intently.

"What?"

The heavy man leant forward. "You tellin' me everythin'? I can't be no help if you don't open yer mouth and it'll be too late when I'm ridin' `hind yer fun'ral box."

Again Decker's voice spoke in his head. 'Should have killed you when I had the chance… like they wanted me to…' No. He couldn't trust anyone with this, not even Sugar, the man who had vouched for him and that he'd known longer than anyone else in the club. He shrugged again, affecting indifference.

"I never knew what his problem was with me."

Knowing Vin was holding back, Sugar leant back anyway. "Fine, but it's gonna get crazy as hell in the next few days." As he manoeuvred his frame out the door he left a parting shot. "So don't piss anyone else off `til we get outta this town. I know you were set on stayin' here a while, fucked if I know why... but yer gettin yer ass back ta Texas after the funeral."

Vin said nothing, not wanting to think that far ahead, knowing that a lot could happen in the course of a week. A moment later he was listening to the sound of the pump churning fuel into the big tank, the smell of the petrol invading the air, as he thought over Sugar's warning. Jake had set him up at the motel, the cops had come straight for him in the back room, as far as he'd found out, which made him think again of Levitz. Just what was his part in all this?

He caught his reflection in the side mirror and reached out an arm to turn the stubborn, rusted metal more toward his face, examining the cut above his eye and removing the small white tape in one movement, wincing at the tug it gave his skin. To his relief, it didn't start to bleed again, but he didn't want to be sporting bandages when he turned up at the clubhouse.

He was readjusting the mirror when a car pulled into the station, on the other side of the single pump. The station wagon held a family of four, obviously on vacation, judging by all of the belongings stacked in the back and tied to the roof. A man got out from behind the wheel and cast a weary eye at Sugar, quickly getting back in his car to wait until they had left, obviously wanting to avoid any trouble with the giant man.

Vin studied the car without thinking about it, his eyes finding two sets of brown ones peering at him from the back seat with open curiosity. He smiled at the childrens' expressions, before realising he was being studied by the woman in the front seat, who was now frowning at him. No doubt she was curious too, about the appearance of two rough-looking men who just might be up to no good – however, adult assumptions overrode curiosity, as did fear, and he could not blame them for staying in the car. If he had a family, he would want to protect them too, at all cost, from people like them.

He glanced at Sugar's profile, now inside the wide glass window of the run down station, paying for their fuel. Trying to look at him objectively he realised he really was one mean looking son of a bitch, but it was more in the grooming than anything else. In a different life, he could just be a large, middle-aged man paying for his gas. Maybe even have a family of his own waiting in a car, instead of one beaten up biker trying to stay awake on a long drive. He put his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes, thinking that when he got in touch with Larabee, he needed to mention Levitz again. Right now though, he had a more pressing matter. Where he was headed was not safe – and he was going there without backup.

He was almost asleep by the time Sugar got back in and closed his door with a heavy thud. There was nothing he could do but go along for now but even so, he felt a growing sense of urgency.

..

Chris looked up as Ezra and Josiah entered his office.

"I thought you were taking a few days," he nodded towards Eza's still bandaged arm.

"I figure if Mr Tanner can resume his active duty, than I am more than fit for the challenge." He took the seat opposite Chris at the cluttered desk. "Intel says the club is gatherin' here, just as we expected, for the funeral procession. The club's liaison officer," he gave this title with a hefty measure of sarcasm, "has asked for a police escort for the event. Levitz is requestin' there be roadblocks at the main street junctions and around a hundred officer's on duty to watch for trouble, which of course he fully expects."

Chris nodded thoughtfully. He had anticipated as much. "We need to meet with Levitz, I don't want the police inciting a riot. Last thing we need is some sort of Hollister party going down."

Ezra nodded. He knew the biker's would not respond well to police in full riot gear plaguing the burial of their

brothers.

"Murphy's perimeter is in place," Josiah informed him. Standard procedure ensured checkpoints at all major arteries into the state, looking for anything suspicious – but weapons and drugs in particular. It was also a good opportunity to search for anyone who might have a warrant against their name. "So far he's had nothing more than a few knives and some dope confiscated."

"Any sign of Alger?"

Josiah shook his head. "Nothing so far. Even though we know to look for him, he's still going to be one slippery son of a bitch."

"I expect to hear from Vin by tomorrow." 'I'd better hear from him by tomorrow.' "He might have something for us. I want all of us there, in one form or another."

"Mitri has asked that I go with him, his presence is expected and he thinks it would be good for me to see what we are up against. It's a good way to get close, security is going to be extremely tight."

"Alright. The rest of us will have to hang back, or come up with some pretty tight covers, we've all been seen around the hospital. Until then, keep me informed if you hear anything."

As they left the office Chris sat back in his chair, giving a slight shake of his head. He'd hardly been in his job two months and already he was dealing with one of the largest gatherings of bikers the country had seen in years. Wilson hadn't lied when he'd said he'd be in the thick of things here. Still, it might have been nice if he hadn't of been thrown into it quite so soon.

..

It looked like a scene from hell, something from the realm of a Mad Max movie. Vin realised that the unidentifiable skull on the wooden stake, that marked the turnoff to the dirt road, should have given him a good indication of what to expect as he took in the view now before him.

The bumpy road had been jarring and he was tired and uncomfortable by the time they arrived at the massive, fort-styled wall that stretched a good distance in either direction. The only entrance was a manually operated steel gate, giving the unmistakable impression that this was a fortress well protected, and not a place easily entered by the expected, let alone the uninvited.

The 'soldiers' at the gate gave them thorough inspection, particularly Vin, whom they had not met before, before they were allowed to enter the long, straight drive through the darkness to the spattering of lights up ahead. As they got closer, Vin realised the lights were fires, lit around the outside of a massive building. The abating rain had allowed the men to light wood in cut oil drums, giving both heat and light, as well as the means to barbecue meat.

The ground was sodden from the endless days of rain, pools of water making the earth muddy and treacherous to navigate. There were trees everywhere, providing a degree of cover from the sky, with wrecks of cars and unidentifiable machinery littering the massive grounds. It was not these things, however, that concerned Vin. It was the sheer number of men that were occupying the massive space, oblivious to the poor weather and the dirty, waterlogged ground. Dirty, unkempt, burly looking men, made the place look like a war camp, or a gathering of foot-soldiers ready for deployment, and he should know. All the while they drove at their slow pace, dark looks followed their path. As they passed, conversations halted briefly and looks were exchanged. Some were simply wary of the new arrival, but others knew who was in the car.

It was not Vin they were wary of, it was Sugar, the club enforcer. His was a position of great power. It was thought to be a good thing to have not met the man face to face, for that would most likely mean pain and punishment.

At this attention Sugar said nothing, aware of the men's dark scrutiny, but well used to it. As the truck hit a pothole sharply, Vin gave a harsh grunt of pain, his hand gripping the door to steady his ride. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and catch some real sleep but knew there was no chance of that happening,

at least not for a while yet. Further in, toward the side of the building, there was a race going on. Two at a time, naked Harley's were battering it out around a torn, dirt track, churning deep ruts in the ground and spraying mud back over an excited crowd of betting men. Directly before the building stood a squared-off space, around which yet another large crowd of men cheered on as two shirtless, bloodied fighters stood toe to toe, slogging it out with little finesse, swapping punch for brutal punch.

This was a scene Vin was familiar with, it being the very way that he had earned his stripes in his early days with the club. It was not surprising that Sugar parked not far from the make-shift ring, lured as he always was by the scent of a good fight in the air, not to mention the blood of battling men.

"Jake'll be here somewhere."

And Billy… Vin's heart picked up its pace as he climbed out of the car slowly, using the door to support himself. He took several slow breaths, knowing it was way too early to be getting ahead of himself. His keen eyes took in every detail, every unfamiliar face, of which there were countless.

"I'll see you in a bit. Then I'll be heading back to town, I've got some business to take care of before I come back out here."

He had to find Decker's brother Judd, was what he was talking about, but did not tell Vin. The man had been ordered to report in asap, but so far no-one had heard from him.

Hiding his quick alarm at the prospect of walking this battleground alone, Vin nodded to Sugar as he watched him walk off, the big man no longer concerned, it seemed, for his welfare. He decided his first course of action would be to locate his bike, hoping Sugar had told him the truth back at the hospital when he'd told him it was out here. Moving cautiously but, he hoped, casually he made his way toward the side of the massive building, where he could see a veritable parking lot of Harleys. As he walked he took in the men he passed with no expression, always keeping an eye out for a familiar face, and was relieved when he made it to the parking area without incident. His eyes searched the long lines of black and chrome, with the occasional show of colour in between, looking for his ride, hoping it was there for it would at least give him a way back to town if he needed one in a hurry.

Then, from a short distance, he heard his name called from the shadows and turned to see the outlines of four men standing beneath a light that was casting a dim glow down to a small part of the building. Peering into the low light he could make out that they were drinking beer against a high wall, standing amongst the frontline of the motorcycles, black wheels all pointing toward them as if in attack. His heart automatically picked up its pace as he prepared for whatever he might be faced with.

"Told ya it was him," he heard a voice say. "If his bike's here, there's no way he'd be too far from it."

"You gonna come over here, or you gonna make us come to you?"

Vin paused at the childlike taunt, the first hint of recognition lighting his eyes.

"Dinnae make me walk in the state ahm in sonny, I'm tellin' ye'!"

And with that voice, a smile lit Vin's face. He knew that thick brogue, a bizare mix of Scottish and Texan slang and now that he was a little calmer, he realised he knew the familiar outline of the four men taunting him. Familiar shapes to match familiar faces, and ones he knew well.

"Think I'll keep m'distance if it's all the same ta ya'll," he called out. "Wouldn't trust you bastards not ta rob me fer a dime."

"That so? There's a challenge if ever I heard one. Come on over here so I can stick my boot in yer ass."

"There you go with the ass again… You always gotta say you're gonna stick somethin' in somebodies ass," came the sound of another voice.

Vin laughed as he closed the distance to the men, finding relief in the familiar sound of their bickering. His

movements were deliberate, yet fluid. It would do no good to show the world how bad off he was at that moment, be it friend or foe in his sight.

"You shut yer mouth, ya greasy bastard, before I stick my boot in yer face."

"Bring it on old timer."

"Old timer?!"

"Well howdy, boys," Vin cut in, stepping into their small circle of light. "Fancy meetin' ya'll in a place like this."

At a glance, these men were recognisable, as mismatched in height and build as they all were. With greater relief, he now saw that they were gathered around his bike, even as they each looked him up and down. He placed a hand almost reverently to the cold metal of his fuel tank. In another time and place, the gesture could of been that of a man to the neck of his horse, so easy and familiar was the touch as he took comfort in the feel of his own means of escape beneath his hand.

"Jesus, they weren't lyin' when they said ya got busted up some more."

Vin smiled at the frankness of a man he'd known as long as he had Keg. Bruce was an unfortunately short man who fancied himself like the warrior `The Bruce' from the movie Braveheart, but being a little under five foot five, he had a hard time trying to convince anyone of the likeness. He then looked at the remaining three. The four men were inseparable, and had been for as long as Vin had known them. He truly liked them, and enjoyed their company. The four of them were as good-natured as they came, and if you could forget that they were active participants in running guns and drugs across the country, you could almost fool yourself into thinking that they were good men. Almost.

"Well now, I heard the fella's up here don't take a likin' to us men comin' up and showin' their women the real thing. Reckon our boy here mighta gotten that pretty face a'his stuck in the wrong door."

Vin took the taunting and accompanying slap on the back with a smile. Michael "Rizzo" Risopolous always had a knack for injecting lightness, no matter the heat of the situation and he was thankful for it right then. Of Greek descent, he was the only man Vin knew of that had a family bigger than the size of Texas, yet still chose to live a life far removed from his upbringing. Some men were just destined to be bikers, he thought.

"We couldnae fuckin' believe it when we heard aboot Keg."

Vin's lip curled in response to Ivan's words, but said nothing, knowing they had more to say. Skinny Ivan had a way of speaking that always made him smile, whether he was talking about the evening news or telling one of his long-winded, famous stories. Everyone liked the man, it was impossible not to. It was probably what got him his way into the club, when rarely did anyone not of US origin get the vote. The fact that he was called `Skinny' Ivan had nothing to do with his build, for he was actually quite a big man. Rather, there was another member of the club named Ivan who was almost seven foot tall and had the width to match, and so was commonly referred to as `Big' Ivan.

"Is it true? What they're sayin?" Cheese, the final member of the small group added, his reddish brown hair catching in the light from above. Vin had never known why he was called the particularly strange name, and wasn't sure that he wanted to either.

Satisfied his bike was as he'd last seen it he stepped closer to them, within their close circle and hooked his thumbs through his belt. "Depends on what they're sayin'." He said in his usual quiet drawl.

"That Decker was fried, brought all the cops out firin', brought Keg down by startin' a riot," Rizzo supplied, his olive face deadly serious. They were angry about Keg, he was one of their close friends and had been for a long, long time. They were going to miss him and in turn, they wanted payback. Someone was responsible here.

"Sounds about right," Vin confirmed, not elaborating.

Cheese spoke in a whispered voice. "An' they're sayin' ya ran when the bullets started flyin'..."

Vin just shook his head as he looked at them in turn. "Ya'll believe that?"

"None of us believes that," Rizzo said, holding in the smoke he'd just sucked in from the ever-present pipe in his hand, "we just thought you should know what these Denver pricks are sayin'."

Vin nodded after a moment. "S'good, cos the bullet I took came from front on."

"No one said ya got shot," Cheese said in surprise.

He gave a bitter smile. "Sounds like they ain't sayin' much of anythin' useful."

Skinny Ivan nodded to the bruises and cuts on Vin's face. "Ye git intae it wi `im again?"

"He didn't come out there ta dance."

"Sonofabitch. What was it with you two anyway?" Cheese said, taking the pipe Rizzo offered him. Like most people, he didn't understand what Decker's problem had been with Vin.

"Bastard got what he deserved," Rizzo added.

"He was a wanker." Ivan agreed.

"Not to mention the most ubiquitous prick I ever knew."

Bruce groaned in time with the rest of them. "Fuck sakes Rizzo."

"Ubi-what?" Cheese asked, holding his lighter over the cone of the pipe.

Bruce put his arm around Vin's shoulders. "Don't mind him, he's on a mission to read the dictionary, startin' at the back. Every day he picks a different word an' drive's us fuckin' nuts with it 'til he thinks he's committed it to his bony head."

"Ya'll wont be laughin' when I start cashin' in on my superior command of the English language."

"And you won't be laughin' when I stick that fuckin' dictionary up your ass."

"And again with the ass... Bruce, I dinnae ken yer infatuation with asses. Yer startin' tae worry me."

Vin chuckled at that, just the slight movement of his chest and the humour in his eyes giving it away until he forced himself to be still, his ribs screaming a protest that brought him up short. These four clowns never failed to make him laugh and he had to admit, it had been a while.

"Even if you knew every word there was to know in the language, what use would it be?" Bruce continued.

"He'd kick ass in Scrabble," Vin supplied.

Rizzo jumped on that, pointing animatedly at Vin as he looked smugly at the rest of them. "See?!"

"You'll never remember every word," Cheese told his friend, giving him a pitying shake of his head as he handed the pipe back for re-packing.

"No, but I'm expanding my mind," Rizzo defended, pulling his stash from his pocket. "Maybe I won't be able to recite them all, but they'll be in my memory, somewhere, if I keep using 'em enough."

"Yeah, hangin' out with the rest'a yer brain somewhere around your -"

"Ass?" Vin finished for Bruce.

Bruce grinned. "'xactly."

"Rizzo, I love ye like the crazy bastard ye are... but yer a wee daft cunt if ya think yer gonna remember the whole fuckin' book," Ivan said, chuckling now too.

"With all that shit you smoke, if you can even remember the word you picked out yesterday I'll kiss your hairy ass." Bruce said with a straight face.

This made Ivan's chuckle turn to a loud and sharp laugh with Cheese spurting beer out loudly beside him. The auburn-haired man opened his mouth to reveal the answer just as Bruce clamped a solid hand over it, silencing him before he could say yesterday's word out loud before Rizzo had a chance to think about it.

"Well?" he asked the frowning Greek.

Rizzo's face affected nonchalance as he packed the cone, struggling to grasp the word that he had used at least twenty times before breakfast the day before. "I don't have to prove anythin' to you..."

"Told ya," Bruce said with a smug grin. "Waste'a time."

"Ah udderly agree with ye..."

"Hey!"

"That's it! Udder!" Rizzo said triumphantly with a huge grin.

"Nice one Ivan," Cheese said, shaking his head, moving off to grab more beers.

Ivan scratched his chin. "We'll, ah's gonnae say 'check out the milk-secretin' organs on that lass o'er thair'... but I couldnae find a woman tae point tae..."

"He wouldn't have gotten that anyway," Bruce decided.

"So..." Rizzo made a grab for his jeans, to which Bruce merely grinned.

"Monkey-boy, when someone actually finds your ass underneath all that hair, we'll talk."

They laughed at Rizzo's indignation until Bruce changed the subject back to its original topic.

"Ya know, we're hearin' other things, too..."

As he watched their faces sober, Vin wondered how much they knew. News travelled fast in the club. He turned to Bruce with a questioning look as tension once again crept into the conversation.

"...We heard ya got set up for that rape charge. We heard it mighta been Judd."

Vin shrugged slightly at that, as if it wasn't important. "Then you've heard as much as me." He looked at them

intently. "Unless there's more..."

But they shook their heads and Skinny Ivan clipped Vin on the shoulder again.

"But we aim tae find oot. 'N whin wi git the prick, ah's gonnae pit um oantay the fuckin' train-track, endy fuckin' story."

"Seriously, when you gonna learn American, all these years I still don't know what the fuck you're saying to me," Rizzo said, effectively breaking the newly found tension of the conversation.

"Ah wisnae talking tae you, ya wide bastard, pipe doon fur I punt yir skanky wee ass oot the door as wil – fuckin' dismissal joab ahm tellin' you."

But Ivan's stern expression lasted all of a second in the face of the loud laughter that accompanied the colourful onslaught, just as he expected it to.

"Ain't you lucky we showed up to cover yer ass, ay ' Hangman'?"

Vin tilted his head to the sky in a show of prayer at the sound of the hated nickname that only fight promoters, and wankers, ever used. "Lucky me," he muttered.

Cheese returned and passed out the beers that were tucked in his arms. Vin took one, knowing he shouldn't drink for a multitude of reasons and taking a hefty swig anyway. It was so cold that his throat hurt, but it tasted like heaven.

"Damn, Cheese, ya dig down to Antarctica fer these or what?" Rizzo complained, grinding his teeth against the sudden freezing pain as Ivan clutched his head to stop the brain freeze.

"You said the last one was too hot! I can't win with you fuckers!" Cheese scowled as they all drank in silence for a moment.

"What's been goin' on back home?" Vin asked, knowing they'd have more stories to tell and feeling relaxed in their circle.

A large cheer went on a short distance away and they turned to see that a man's arm was on fire, to the great amusement of the men around him. He managed to put it out and they resumed their conversation, not seeing anything particularly unusual about the event.

"Well, Cheese went and got himself married," Rizzo informed Vin eagerly, to which Cheese gave Rizzo a warning glare.

"That so..." Vin asked, taking in another refreshing mouthful of beer and settling in for a story.

"Yeah… But now he's separated - cos he found out the bitch was his cousin!"

Vin smiled as Cheese called Rizzo all manner of names over his shoulder, on his way over to a nearby tree to relieve himself, but obviously not upset by the story as he called out behind him.

"Don't you be talkin' `bout my wife like that, you bastard! Where's your bike…"

"You piss on my bike it'll be the last time you take a piss, son."

Vin found himself grinning again, even though some distant bed was calling him. At least it would be entertaining in the meanwhile, with these boys to take his mind off things.

..

From the third story window, the pale eyes of Warren Lance looked down to the ground below, not moving from the silhouetted form of Vin Turner for a second as he held a phone to his ear in his long, pale fingers.

"Yeah he's here, he's definitely here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure," was the snapped reply. He was already over his friend's vendetta against Turner. The heat was starting to get to him. He tugged a hand through his tangled beard in frustration.

Judd Lidlow remained silent for a moment, picturing the man he hated with a fierce passion. The recent loss of his brother choked him like a fist of pain that tightened around his throat until he felt he was being strangled.

"We gotta wait," Warren informed him, sensing his friend's rage down the line. "An' he ain't goin' anywhere. The girls' dropped the charges so you can head out if ya want. Ride out tonight, the whole damn club's lookin' for you now anyway."

Judd smiled at that, but it was a cold, bitter smile. "No. I'll wait out here. He won't be leavin' this city any time soon. I come out there I'll do somethin' I'll regret."

Warren shook his head, he knew what his friend meant. Tanner wouldn't be leaving the city at all. He peered down again at the man taking a swig of beer below and silently raised his own bottle to the window, tapping it against the cold glass in a toast to his health, short may it be.