I laughed at his antics. “The two of you are exceptional.”
“I’ll accept that.” He took a drink. “Did he take you for a ride on that scooter of his? After you were intrigued?”
“No,” I said. “He told me women weren’t allowed to ride on the back.”
He removed his hat and rubbed his head. “Best I recall, you were on the back of it this evening, when he pulled into the drive.”
I grinned. “I was.”
He put his hat back on and adjusted it. “What changed?”
“I can’t really say. Something happened and he finally gave me a ride.”
Jack looked at Price. Price nodded.
I gave them both a confused look.
“Did he give you a ride home after that knucklehead kidnapped you?” Jack asked.
My eyes went wide. I sat up in my chair. “You know about that?”
He chuckled. “McNealy told me about it. Sounds like the man who did it was a hairbrained idiot.”
“He is an idiot, but I got back at him for it,” I said. “I stole his cats.”
He choked on his wine. “You did what?”
“The guy who kidnapped me had two cats. They were like his kids. Little leopard cats. They’re called Bengals. I wanted to get back at him for making my life miserable, so I decided to make his life miserable. I took his cats.”
He laughed out loud. “Just swiped ‘em? From his house?”
I grinned pridefully. “We broke in and took them. Left a ransom note.”
“You and McNealy?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“What was the ransom?”
“Fifty grand.”
“Jesus jumped up Christ,” he said. “Should have gone with something a little closer to realistic. Might have been able to get a good steak dinner and a tank of gas out of the deal.”
Price scoffed. “He’d pay it if he knew how.”
Jack looked at Price like he was crazy. “You’re telling me a grown man would pay fifty grand for a couple of housecats?”
“He sure would.”
“This is the dipshit that kidnapped her, right?”
Price nodded. “Same guy.”
“I’m afraid that man’s elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top. No man in his right mind would value housecats at twenty-five grand a pop.”
“They’re pretty good cats,” I said. “I really like them.”
He gave me a look. “Would you give fifty grand for ‘em?”
“If I had it? Sure.”
He pushed the brim of his hat up. “Why?”
I really didn’t want to say. “I don’t know.”
He chuckled. “Now’s not the time to be embarrassed. You’ve already shown your ass. What makes those two housecats worth as much as a new pickup truck?”
I’d had a cat before, but Brisco’s cats were different. Maybe their breed was unique, or maybe they just came around at the right time in my life. I didn’t know. It really didn’t matter. What mattered was the satisfaction I received from being in the home with Price and the cats at the same time.
“I’m not willing to have a kid if I’m not able to be the best mother in the world for that child,” I explained. “At some point, I’ll be that person. Right now, I know I’m not there yet. The cats make me feel like Price and I have a family. They’re waiting for us when we walk in, they snuggle with us when we go to bed, and they’ll play with us any time of night and day, until they’re exhausted. I just…” I paused, embarrassed by what I’d revealed. It sounded juvenile. I looked at Price. Wearing a grin, it seemed he agreed with what I’d said. I cleared my throat. “They give me a sense of family, and that’s something I never really had.”
Jack nodded as if he understood, fully. “Kind of like having you two here, tonight?” He looked at each of us and smiled. “Reminds me of when Earl and Kimberly were around. Hell, I’d give fifty grand to have a standing Sunday dinner date with the two of you.” He reached for his wine. “Guess I know exactly what you’re talking about. Family’s a powerful thing.”
“I can’t speak for Price,” I said. “But I’m free on Sunday nights. It’s hard to say no to food like this. You’re a good cook.”
He pushed the bill of his hat up. “Good enough you’ll make that bet?”
I shook his hand. “It’s a bet.”
He tugged against the brim of his hat and smiled. “Let me know next Sunday night how things worked out, will ya?”
30
Price
Chin and I rolled up to the curb in front of the single-story stucco ranch home. A new Ford truck was Parked beneath the lean-to. Beside it, a decent-looking black Sportster was parked, chained to one of the structure’s uprights.
I glanced at the street number painted on the face of the curb. I looked at Chin. “Six-oh-five is right, isn’t it?”
He shut off his bagger and gave a nod. “Yep.”
“So, we’re at the right place?”
“Yep.”
“This prick can’t pay his rent, but he can afford a Sporty and a new truck?”
“Kind of why I asked you to come along. Fucker’s been late three times this year, and we’re only eight months into the year. When he said he wanted three more weeks, I knew I’d need someone to come along. I ain’t having my probation revoked over this shit.”
“Whatever happens, just follow my lead,” I said. “I’ll take care of this prick.”
“Appreciate it,” Chin said.
Since Brisco had slipped into his state of depression, I’d been assisting Chin with debt collections. Typically, we didn’t have any issues with payments. One tenant, however, had been late repeatedly. A little friendly persuasion would go a long way in assuring the ‘Eights could meet their future financial obligations without dipping into the company’s interest-bearing accounts.
As we sauntered through the yard, I blamed Brisco for my involvement in the situation. It seemed lately he was bearing the brunt of the blame for any and everything that went wrong in my life. Not being able to forgive him had me angry at him and at myself. Consequently, when I walked into situations like what we were facing, I reacted other than favorably.
“What’s this asshole doing home at noon, anyway?” I asked. “What’s he do for work?”
He shrugged. “Good question. Fucker’s always home.”
Chin was an eclectic mixture of races, but the Chinese gene pool appeared to be more prominent than the others. One wouldn’t look at him and immediately claim that he was of Asian descent. His eyes, however, weren’t quite round. The thin slits he peered through—and the fact he was proficient with many martial arts techniques—earned him the moniker, Mister Chin.
He liked the name so much he named his auto repair shop after it.
I rapped my knuckles against the door. “Here to collect the rent.”
The offensively loud music permeated through the walls. I pounded harder. The music continued. Frustrated, I beat the base of my fist against the door so hard I wondered if I was going to knock it off the hinges.
The music stopped.
The door swung open. A barrel-chested man with a big bushy beard and beady eyes glared at me.
Most would consider the home’s occupant to be frighteningly large. I wasn’t intimidated by anyone. I gave him a quick once-over and returned his glare.
“Rent’s due, asshole,” I said. “I’m here to get it.”
He nodded toward Chin. “Told him yesterday that I was going to be a little late.”
“A little late would be right now,” I said. “Heard you were wanting an extra three weeks. That’s not a little late.”
He looked at me like I was out of line. “Can’t get blood out of a turnip, Brother. I’ll have it in three weeks. Come back then.”
He attempted to push the door closed.
I wedged my boot between the door and the frame. “Two things,” I said, meeting his angry gaze. “One, I’m not your brother. Two, I’m either gett
ing that rent money this morning or I’m going to put $1,150 worth of bullet holes in the side of that new truck. I’ll let you pick.”
He looked at me like he could give two shits about the threat I’d made. “You think you’re the only one with a gun?” he asked. “You touch that truck and I’ll put six bucks’ worth of bullets in the back of your skull. How’s that?”
Using my shoulder as a ram, I shoved all my weight against the door. When it opened far enough, I stormed through it. Chin was right behind me. Before Big Boy could react to the intrusion, I thrust the web of my hand against the base of his neck.
The air shot from his lungs. I planted my right fist in the center of his solar plexus. Bug-eyed, he stumbled into the living room. I kicked the door closed with the heel of my boot. Before he realized what happened, I pulled my pistol from my ankle holster.
“Listen, asshole.” I pressed the barrel against the side of his head. “There’s a lot of motherfuckers you can threaten. I’m not one of them.”
I fished his wallet of his pocket with my left hand and tossed it to Chin. “What’s in there?’
He thumbed through the wallet. “Two hundred and forty-two. Couple of credit cards. ID. Sam’s card.”
“You’re nine hundred and eight bucks short,” I said. “Any ideas?”
Still struggling to breathe, he shook his head.
“Owe any money on that Sporty?” I asked.
He nodded.
“The truck?”
He nodded. “It’s new.”
“I’m either leaving here with $1,150 in cash or $1,150 in satisfaction,” I said. “Just so you know, so far I’ve got about five bucks of satisfaction out of this.”
“I don’t…have…the money.”
“Go grab a pillow off his bed,” I said. “I’m going to shoot this prick in the thigh, and I don’t want to have the neighbors call the cops.”
“Be right back,” Chin said.
“Hold up a minute,” the guy said. “I’ve got a couple guns. You can have ‘em.”
“What else you got?” I asked.
His eyes darted toward the wall mounted television. “Nice television.”
“Do I look like I run a fucking pawn shop?”
Chin handed me the pillow. He nodded toward the coffee table. “MacBook Pro on the coffee table. The big one. Looks new. Worth a grand, at least.”
Two months prior, I would have beaten the man senseless and lit his house on fire for threatening me, alone. Thanks to Gray and my newfound serenity, I’d settle for taking his valuables and putting the fear of God almighty in him.
“Grab it,” I said.
“Wait, you can’t take—”
I pounded the frame of the pistol against his left cheek. His face split open like a stepped-on grape.
“Don’t tell me what I can take,” I growled.
Chin, who was somewhat of a computer nerd, knelt in front of the open laptop.
“Whoah!” He jumped from kneeling to standing. Using his tee shirt, he leaned over and wiped his fingerprints from the keyboard. “This fucker’s got pictures of naked little kids on here.”
“What?!” I howled.
Chin nodded. “Computer hadn’t gone in sleep mode yet. Dude’s got a bunch of naked kid pic’s on here.”
I began pistol-whipping the bearded pervert with the frame of the pistol. After the third or fourth whack, he fell to the floor.
When Chin pulled me to my feet, I realized I’d blacked out from anger and had nearly beaten him to death.
I looked at his bloody, swollen face. Unconscious, he had no idea what was going on.
I picked up the pillow, smothered the barrel, and pointed my pistol at his chest. “I ought to—”
“Don’t do it, Price,” Chin pleaded.
I shot him a wild-eyed glare.
“Our bikes are out front,” he said. “Cop’s will pick us up for sure.”
Blinded by anger, I glanced around the room, looking for answers.
“Cops pick you up on a murder charge, and you’ll never see that gal again,” Chin reasoned. “You don’t want that, Price.”
Still furious, I gave him the death stare. “I don’t give a fuck if—”
“Bullshit,” he said. “Take a few deep breaths, Brother. We’ll get a coupe of the fellas to take care of this. Now’s not the time. Not with our sleds parked out front in the daylight.”
After a moment of fuming, I came to my senses. I glanced around the room. “Think this fucker’s going to talk?”
Chin nodded toward the laptop. “With that shit he’s got on his hard drive? He won’t say shit. He’s got fifty years in club fed if he’s caught with that shit.”
I planted the heel of my boot against the computer’s screen, crushing it in one blow. I continued stomping until the keyboard spewed keys all over the floor and the frame of the laptop was distorted beyond recognition.
“You wanna search this place, and see if he’s got those guns?” Chin asked.
“No,” I said. “I’ll pay his debt to get the books right, and then I’ll come back here once a week and beat this prick for GP.”
“Taking a risk, coming back.”
I was covered in the pervert’s blood. I looked at Chin and laughed. “Look at me. I’m taking a risk leaving this place. Be lucky if I don’t get pulled over on the way to the clubhouse and questioned for any unsolved murder that’s taken place over the past two years.”
The unconscious kiddy porn creep began to stir. I kicked the heel of my boot against his jaw, knocking him unconscious again. “Lot of shit I can look past,” I said. “Raping bitches and fucking with little kids don’t qualify.”
“I can’t look past it either,” Chin said. He nervously peeked out the window before looking right at me. “But we’ve got to be sensible about this, Boss. You need to find a way to curb that temper, I’m telling ya.”
He was right.
The first step in doing so was forgiving Brisco. Doing so would require releasing the hostages.
Upon realizing that fact, I booted the pervert’s jaw, again. And, again. And, again.
31
Gray
We sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee after dinner. It was nice to be able to relax, mid-week, without worrying about the bar.
“That new cook’s killing it,” Price said.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s awesome. Everything he makes is just like you made it. Hell, it’s impossible to tell it apart.”
I didn’t like thinking someone could cook as good as me, but Manny followed directions well. All I had to do was show him once, and he understood exactly what I wanted. Since hiring him, we added pork tacos, and a barbeque pork sandwich to the menu. Both were his creations, and a fabulous edition to the bar’s offerings.
“He follows directions well,” I said. “And, he’s super easy to get along with.”
“He’s not having any problems with Teddi, is he?”
“He just laughs at her.”
“Her, or her corny jokes?”
“Both.”
He stood, walked to the coffee pot, and poured his cup full. He lifted the pot. “More?”
“No, thank you.”
He took his seat. “We need to have a talk.”
My shoulders slumped. “Oh, Lord.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Every time you want to have a talk, it’s either something really good, or something really bad. I’m just wondering which it is.”
“Little of both,” he said.
“Do the bad first.”
He sipped his coffee. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Do the bad, then the good.”
He took another drink. “Okay.”
He set the cup to the side. “My temper’s worse right now than it’s been in ages.”
I thought it was better. I gave him a surprised look. “Why?”
“Brisco, I think.”
“What did he do
now?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. I just. I’m still angry as fuck about everything he did to you. I need to forgive him. Forgiving him means telling him about the fucking hostages. That means they go back. I don’t want them to go back.”
I didn’t either. Keeping Price’s temper at bay was more important that anything, though. “It’s okay,” I said. “We can give them back.”
I no more than spoke, and I felt a paw against my thigh. I looked down. Frick, my nickname for the bigger of the two, was begging for table scraps.
I held out my empty hands. “I don’t have anything.”
He meandered to Price, stretched, and then tapped his paw on Price’s leg.
“Just a minute,” Price said.
He grabbed the bag of treats and gave the cat two of them.
I nodded toward the cat. “I thought we decided no treats after eight o’ clock?”
“That’s more of a tease than a treat.”
The cats had been favoring him, and now I knew why. I shot him a glare. “No treats means no treats.”
Price tossed the bag onto the table. He showed the cat his empty hands. “Sorry, Bud.”
Satisfied, the cat meandered to the couch, hopped onto it, and began circling the cushion. I hated the thought of giving them back to Brisco, but we’d punished him enough.
“I’m okay with it, really,” I said. “If not forgiving him has you on edge, you need to get it over with.”
“I beat a guy damned near to death yesterday,” he said. “Can’t stop thinking about it. Last place I need to be is in jail.”
“You did what?” I gasped.
“Fucking pervert,” he said. “Had a computer filled with pictures and videos of kids. He got what he deserved. I just went a little overboard.”
I sighed. “I’m not even going to ask.”
He reached for his cup. “Probably best if you don’t.”
“So, that’s the bad? Giving back the hostages after you forgive Brisco?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the good?”
He sipped his coffee. After finishing it, he poured another cup. On his way back to the table, he began.
“One thing you’ve made clear is that your father’s absence caused you to resent him. You didn’t know if he was coming home or not, and the not knowing caused you and your mother grief.” He sat down, and then met my gaze. “I can assure you of this. Unless I’m out of town, at some point in time I always come home.”
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