by A P Foote
Clyde follows me to the front of the van, before he asks, “What is it Kat? I wanna get this over with.”
I roll my eyes and whisper, so the three stooges don’t overhear. “You don’t find this odd? These guys look like fucking frat boys on meth. They’re literally covered in it.”
“And your point is?”
“Clyde, something’s not right, I don’t trust this deal or them.” I never break eye contact, no need to make the Cali kids nervous.
He leans against the grille. “Kat, its twenty-two grand. Suck it up.” He leaves me alone and stunned at his insolence and unwary dedication to this deal.
“Get everything out!” he hollers.
Ratty races around the back, unlodging the doors, uncovering cases and cases of weapons.
Johnny turns, nodding to his guys. The black haired one reaches inside the house, and my hand shoots to the grip protruding from the front of my jeans. “Woah baby, no needing getting trigger happy, he’s just getting your payment.”
Fuck him if he thinks I’m not taking all precautions. I haven’t trusted these guys since we pulled into their lab, why would he think I trust his word?
I snort at his fuckery, calling me baby? He has no fucking idea how much I’m not that. I don’t say anything though I bite my tongue like the good little soldier I am. Clyde wants this, needs it and who am I to fuck it up with my paranoia.
The palm of my hand rests on the grip of the eagle I claimed from Dalton, my finger tapping the silver stripe running down the back of the rubber grip. They don’t get frisky; I won’t get twitchy.
The guys unload the crates, and Johnny bounces on his toes, rubbing his hands together with such excitement.
Gross. I think to myself as this son of a bitch licks his lips like he’s about to dive headfirst into virgin pussy. He grabs one of the ADS rifles, turning it over in his hands, tap and racking it. I’m just waiting for him to shoot himself; it would save me a bullet.
“All right man, these are great.” He smiles, his whole demeanor has changed, putting me on high alert. He’s stopped bouncing, his nerves are dangerously calm, and he looks very aware of everything happening around him.
“Now,” he says, raising the weapon, lining Clyde up in his sights.
I fucking new it! I draw my weapon, pointing it right at the fucker’s head. “Drop the fucking gun, you fucking inbred, cracked out Fabio.” The guys follow suit, drawing their pieces, keeping a bead on every one of these fucker’s skulls.
“Aww, Kitty Kat, where’s the fun in that?”
How the hell does he know that?
My heart races, thumping against my ribs, and my steady handshakes for a brief second but I regain my grip. “Who the fuck are you guys really?” I keep the barrel trained on his face, side stepping my way to Clyde, putting myself between him and possible death.
“You ruined my life that day, the day you nearly beat me to death!” He aims at Clyde. “She wanted me, she was practically begging me!”
“Cash,” I state, my trigger finger sliding off the guard to the trigger. “What the hell is going on?!”
“I wasn’t the same after I recovered. My brother was a member of The Power, and he sponsored me, took me under his wing—”
“This isn’t their territory!” Nix exclaims, adjusting his grip.
“Oh, but it is. We just never exploit that little bit of information. Here, we’re a branch of the charter, handling deals with clubs that won’t work with The Power.” He stops looking though the sights, directly at me. “I jumped at the opportunity for this deal. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from your pimp long enough, it’s a double whammy if I’m honest.”
“How so?” Clyde questions, stepping just enough away so his gun isn’t pointed at my head.
“Revenge on her, and respect for killing you, taking your club and the town you’ve diseased with your… progressive way of thinking.”
This is taking too much time, the rest of the club will be wondering where we are, my pocket’s been vibrating lake a damn rabbit. All I need to do is keep this fucktard talking, keep him distracted until the paddy wagon shows.
“Progressive?” I question his words. I don’t think we’re progressive at all, we just enjoy every walks of life. Why subject our club to one race? Where’s the fun in that?
“Yeah, your club goes against everything one percenters stand for, they let you, a pathetic, frail piece of ass patch, you’re a ranking fucking member, and let’s not forget the black folk you have running a muck.”
“Can I shoot him?” I throw over my shoulder at Clyde.
“Please.”
Thank fuck, I can’t listen to this dude run his mouth anymore. I can’t stand people like him, we’re all human fucking beings, get over it.
My vision tunnels, its only me and him. It’s like time stands still when I zoom in on my target, there’s only hair and opportunity and…BANG, there went his air. The 50 bead whizzes through the air, penetrating his nasal cavity, blowing out the back of his skull. Brain matter, hair and shards of bone splinter the cold air drawing attention of the two men on the porch, and about a dozen people inside the broken-down mobile home.
They pour from the porch yelling, pointing rifles in our faces. These fuckers don’t scare anyone though. I wear my demented, sick smile proudly across my lips, as they rip the freedom from my hand. One of the men kick me behind the knee, forcing me to the ground, while they do the same to Clyde, Nix, Cass and Dalton, a long cold steel barrel shakes me when I feel the circular openings of a double barrel synching my neck.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I hear Ratty resisting the hostile takeover going down.
Don’t do it man.
The thought fades when a shot rings out, silencing Ratty’s defiance for the last time.
My pulse kicks, my throat burns, but I quickly swallow it, turning to get a look at our fallen brother. I’m met with the butt of the shot gun across my face, throwing me face first into the dirt.
“Fuck!” I hiss, covering my face to prevent another blow. My name is yelled a few times presumably from the guys, but these morons don’t know what they’re starting, they could do the same to them they did to Ratty, no question. “I’m fine.”
I call loud enough for them to hear.
“Shut up bitch.” The man who just hit me hit me spits. Fine I’ll play, as soon as I get the opportunity this guy will be fileted, by me.
“Now what are we gonna do? Boss said he wanted the girl unharmed, you just pistol whipped her in the face bro.” a whiny voice croaks. I keep my head down, listening intently for the roars of engines.
“He’ll understand, Sully ain’t dumb.”
Pfft but these guys are, no wonder they were sent to die. Wait a minute he said Sully…
“You fucking moron! Now they know who’s callin the shots.”
“Like it fucking matters, they’ll be eating dirt soon, won’t be able to tell no one.” The snitch says.
“Yeah but—” the man’s cut off by about twenty cruisers roaring into view.
“Shit! Shoot ’em!” the guy standing behind me yells, now that he’s distracted, I can make a move.
I brace my hands on the ground, popping into a crouch, kicking out my leg, swinging it into the fuck heads swooping his legs out from under him. He grunts hitting the ground, his head smacking against the dirt.
My eagle lands next to him, falling from his pigged hands. Grabbing it I pop up to my knees, aiming the barrel straight at his skull and pull the trigger. The affects are worse than Cash’s because of my close proximity, but it works.
I regain my footing scanning for the others. Dalton’s got a guy in a head lock, Nix is lighting up the house with one of the ADS’s, Cass is loading up Ratty’s body into the van while Dalton carries the crates back.
Grunts and howls grow deafening as the club engages the rest of the people, I guess there were more people in the trailer than I thought.
As I’m heading for
the guys, a man steps from behind a raggedy, beat up town car.
“Clyde!” I yell, booking it over to him, trying to intercept the big guy about to eliminate him. It’s too late, I’m too late. He never hears me over the engines and doesn’t feel the guy until he’s on him.
Everything moves so slow, I can’t move fast enough, and the universe is laughing at me. Just when everything goes well, everything goes bad.
He grabs Clyde by the collar, spinning him around to face him. Clyde steps back losing his footing on the rock and tumbles to the sand bringing the hulking of a man with him. Clyde nails him in the face, the brass glittering in the sun across his knuckles. He still has the damn things from the time I lost them to him in poker.
But the man fires back, the reflection of a blade dancing off the cars surrounding us. He slices it through the air, twisting his arm, driving it straight into Clyde’s gut.
“Nooo!” Everything in me feels hopeless, that knife didn’t just dive into Clyde but into me as well. I’m fazed for just a moment dropping my gun to the ground. No need to pick it up, I have a fucking surprise for this guy.
The ten-inch blade I acquired from my collection in garage rests against my thigh. Releasing it from its cage, I’m on the shit head.
Throwing his head back he misses my face, but I don’t miss his neck. My blade screams for blood, begging for it. Who am I to refuse its needs?
The knife cuts through his skin like butter, his screams cut off, his cries no longer signaling for any more of his kin folk to pop out from behind a shrub like a bunch of pussies. At least when we make an appearance, dirtbags know we’re coming.
Pulling it out I dive right back in, twisting the blade, cutting as deep as possible severing everything that I possibly can. His big body gives out, so I discard his carcass like the hog he is, tossing the trash parts, leaving them for the wolves.
Echoes from bullets flying stop. “Kat!” Cass bellows, applying pressure to Clyde’s wounds.
“Shit.” Dropping to Clyde’s side there’s blood everywhere. Cass tries the best he can to stop the flow of blood, at least keep him from bleeding out.
“Ow, fuck! That mother fucker stabbed me.” He pants lifting his head to see the damage. If he doesn’t stop moving it won’t matter what Cass does.
“Stop moving, man. D!” Cass scans the area for his brother.
“Yeah, I’m here.” He rounds the van, stopping behind me and places a hand on my shoulder.
“Call 9-1-1.”
“No!” Clyde and Nix say in unison.
Shit, he’s worried about going to jail right now? If he doesn’t get help, he’s going to fucking die.
Police sirens blare in the distance, my head swivels behind me to see how close they are. So far, they haven’t made it to the road leading to us. “Lose the cuts.”
“Wha?” Nix asks looking puzzled.
“Loose the fucking Cuts!” I bellow to them and the rest of the pack while taking off my own. “Help me lift him.”
Cass keeps his hands in place, Nix and Dalton carefully lift Clyde, giving me enough room to slip the leather from his body. “Take them, take the van, and everyone else into the woods. Stay until it’s clear. Got it?” I say shoving the cuts into Nix’s arms. He nods, standing he addresses the club.
“Let’s go! Head deep into the brush.” His accent hangs in the air, the cruisers engines drowning the sirens out completely. They scatter following the trail deep into the woods, one by one disappearing within the depths of the forest.
Cass eyes his brother. “Go, Dalton. You can’t be here.”
Clyde groans, his tanned skin flushing with every second that ticks by. “Hold on, baby,” I coo, running my hand through his long mocha brown hair. “Hold on.”
“No, I’m staying.” D refuses to leave, but if he doesn’t, he’ll violate. I don’t need that on me as well.
“Dalton,” I soothe reaching for his hand, slipping my fingers between his. “We’ll be fine, you won’t. Go, please.”
He sees something in my eyes that makes the decision for him. He leans in, his mouth crashing against mine as the tears slip from my eyes, mingling with our lips. His tongue swoops in, promising for more. “Let’s go!” Nix grabs him around the arm, dragging him away leaving me breathless. Nix heads for the van, Dalton for his bike.
They roar down the same path everyone else barreled through, leaving Clyde, Cass, and myself to handle the fallout.
It has to be this way, the whole club doesn’t need to go down for our mistake, my mistake. I shot first, if I hadn’t maybe this wouldn’t have happened. We might have gotten out unscathed.
“Hell of a first day back huh?” Clyde teases, blood starting coat his teeth.
“Shut up,” I demand, shoving Cass’s hands away from the wound, replacing his with my own.
“What are you doing?” he questions my actions, his brows embedded into his hairline. He doesn’t need to go down for this, though if he’s really FBI he should be able to get out of this no problem. Doesn’t matter I take full responsibility for what’s happened.
“Go,” I say, my eyes softening when I see his profound determination striking a match across his face.
He laughs. “You’re fucking nuts, Kat. You’re not doing this alone.” Cass steps over Clyde’s prone form into the line of speeding cars and trucks, the emergency lights bouncing off the reflectors on our bikes. His arms wave through the air as the vehicles come to a stop, the doors fly open, cops bellow from them drawing their weapons.
I turn back to Clyde, my heart squeezing tight inside my chest. I’m trying to hold it together for me, him and the club. This isn’t going to be easy getting out of, hell I don’t even know how to get out of this.
Yells and threats fly through air. “Get down on the ground!”
“Get down, we will fucking shoot you!”
Cass drops to the ground while a heard of officers jump on him, kneeling into his back, jerking him around. Don’t fight back, please don’t fight back.
A warm hand encases mine, and I refocus on Clyde he has a wholesome look on his beautiful face. “Kat, I love you. Even if you—even if you don’t feel it, I do. You’ve always been my Bonnie, in this life or the next.”
The tears come heavy, uncontrollable at this point. I take a deep breath. “Stop, you’re going to be fine.”
He shakes his head, his hands squeezing mine, he opens his mouth to speak but the fucking pigs interrupt. “Get down on the ground now!”
“I can’t!” I scream. Clyde’s hands weakly try removing mine but in his state I’m stronger and I refuse to let him die. The cops repeatedly yell commands for me to get down, but I refuse. “If I let go of him. he’ll die!” I repeat.
One second I’m keeping Clyde from bleeding to death and the next I’m hauled through the air, landing face down into the dirt. “No, no!”
I thrash underneath the man pinning me with his knee, crushing my spine. He pushes harder making it virtually impossible for me to breathe, forcing me to submit.
Clyde still in my line of sight, I watch a man slide blue gloves over his hands and place his hands over Clyde’s wound. “Save him!” I cry, dirt clouding around my face with every hardened pant, every breath, sucking it into my mouth. “Save him.”
Three cops drag me to my feet slamming my back against one of the trucks they parked next to us. “You’re under arrest, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford attorney one will be appointed to you free of cost. Do you understand the rights I have just given you?”
Do I understand? Sure I understand, doesn’t mean I have to be nice about it.
“Thew!” I hawk the little bit of spit the dirt left for me at the fucker’s face who mirandized me. His arm reaches back, cuts through the air with an opened fist, striking me across the face. My tooth slices the edge of my lip instantly drawing blood.
It stings but only for a minute, the anger a
nd adrenaline pumping through me helps with the pain. I smile at him; I know this guy. He’s a fuck head, always tried to pop me for something, but I wasn’t an idiot I never kept anything on me that would get me locked up for some bullshit.
“Get this trash in the fucking car. Add assaulting a police officer to the list of shit she’s going down for.” He steps closer to me, his nose barely an inch from mine. “Finally got you.”
Assaulting a police officer with spit, hmmm. Can they charge me with really assaulting him?
He doesn’t see it coming, I tilt my head back and ram it straight into his face. His nose explodes with blood, and the other officers vocally wince, snatching me off the car and tossing me into the back of the SUV, slamming the door after me.
