by Nicole James
“You’re crazy.”
“Let’s sit and get our bearings. If we have to run from this guy, I want to know which way to go.” We sit, and I hold up the map and tap a spot with my finger. “We’re here. Back over there is the entrance we came in.”
Hayley leans in to look, then points over her shoulder. “So that’s over in that direction, right?”
“Right. If the gate is locked, we could get over the brick wall or the low side portions of the wrought iron gate.”
She meets my eyes. “But if he cuts us off, and we have to find another way out?”
“Then we better go find those other exits and see if we can get over them.”
She points to another spot. “There’s the south entrance he was talking about, and there’s the Jewish section, so there must be a gate, but it’s not marked on this map.”
I stand. “Let’s go find it.”
We walk for about ten minutes, taking a wrong turn and losing our bearings.
“This is going to be really hard in the dark.”
“Shit, I didn’t think about that.”
“We’re going to need to remember some landmarks. If we have to make a run for it, remember we need to go past the confederate section and that dying lion sculpture.”
“Yes, and turn at this big Mausoleum.” She points behind me.
I stare up at the creepy looking building and shiver.
“It’s got to be this way.” She grabs my hand, and we head off farther.
We both spot a sculpture on the top of a tombstone. It’s a woman pointing up and to her right as if she’s pointing to the giant Oak tree that towers above us. Hayley’s hand tightens on mine, and we both give each other a wide-eyed look. It’s freaky the way it looks like she’s watching us as we pass under her. The scent of gardenias hangs heavy in the humid air, but I can’t spot a single gardenia shrub anywhere in the area.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Hayley whispers.
“Don’t use the word hell. Not in this place.”
“You’re right. Come on.”
We fast walk down the lane and find the gate in the brick wall. It’s padlocked shut, but the wrought iron scrollwork is only chest high and would be easy to climb over. I spot a mini mart across the street and point to it. “We get separated, we meet up there.”
“Separated?” Hayley squeaks. “I don’t plan to get separated. I hate places like this. I don’t even like scary movies.”
“Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m being smart. No sane person would set up a meeting in a cemetery. Just goes to show what kind of guy you’re dealing with.”
“Well, he told me to come alone, so you’ll need to wait in the car.”
“What? You didn’t tell me that part. No way, Tess, it’s not safe.”
“Well, what then? I don’t want to blow this.”
“Okay, let me think. I’ll hide behind one of those mausoleums with the gun. Anything bad happens, I’ll jump out and save you.”
I start to laugh; this whole plan is so ridiculous.
Hayley smiles. “What? I’m your partner in crime, aren’t I?”
“I feel more like we’re Lucy and Ethel.”
“Hey, they were a team! Don’t knock Lucy and Ethel; they had the whole BFF thing down. Ethel saved Lucy’s ass a bunch of times.”
I put my arm around her. “Come on, it’s a long walk back to the main entrance.”
She pushes out of my hold. “Walk back through this creepy cemetery? No way. It’s almost dark. I’m going over this gate.”
I glance around, but I’m pretty sure we’re one of the last visitors, so I follow her over.
She glances around as we walk up the sidewalk along the brick wall back toward the lot where we parked. “You think this guy lives around here somewhere?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but it would make sense. Maybe that’s why he chose this place.”
She swivels and walks backward. “Those old houses back there look kind of run down. Seems like a good place for a lowlife to live.”
I grab her arm. “Come on.”
When we get to the car, the main gate is already closed. Hayley beeps the locks, and we jump in. She wastes no time firing it up and throwing gravel as we race away.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say.
She glances over at me. “Never a good thing.”
“No, hear me out. We need to park over at the mini mart tonight. Use that entrance to get in.”
Her hands tighten on the wheel. “You might be right.”
“I wish I knew what this guy looked like. We could pass him in the parking lot and not even know him.”
“Yeah, but maybe he doesn’t know what you look like either.”
“I guess so.”
She pins me with a look, her eyes shifting quickly to the road and back. “If he doesn’t know what you look like, I could pretend to be you.”
I shake my head. “No way. I couldn’t live with the guilt if something happened to you. It’s got to be me. I can answer questions about Growler that you can’t.”
“Fine, but I’m sticking close, and I’m bringing my daddy’s gun.” Her eyes get big. “Maybe we should get Brett to come with us.”
“We’re not involving your little brother. Get real.”
“He may be younger, but he is a state wrestling champ and he does have a crush on you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m carrying a baby, Hayley. Now’s not the time to try to hook me up with your younger brother.”
“Not trying to hook you up. Just sayin’ he’d probably do it if it involves you.”
“We don’t need anyone else involved in this scheme.”
“Fine. Just the two of us, then.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tess—
Six hours later, Hayley drives us past the cemetery and pulls into the mini mart. She goes around to the side of the building and shifts into park while I scope out the other cars. A couple of customers come and go. No one pays us any attention.
I check the clock. It’s twenty to eleven. “You ready?”
“No,” Hayley replies, pinning me with an exasperated look. “Are you?”
I smile at her, sympathizing with her frustration at me.
She rolls her eyes and shoves the gun in the back of her pants, then pulls her shirt down. “Bring only your phone. We can lock our purses in the trunk.”
We do, and she beeps the car locked with her fob then shoves it down her hip pocket. She pulls the knit hat over her hair, and I do the same with mine, tucking my long blonde hair under my sweat jacket.
We dash across the four lane highway after a Marta bus passes, its interior lit up, bored passengers staring blankly.
I glance down the street and see no one walking on our side. We’re dressed in black and wearing sneakers.
Reaching the gate, I heave myself up and over, landing quietly on the brick path. Hayley follows me over.
“Come on,” I say, leading the way.
We wander down the path through the headstones and tombs that stand like giant chess pieces in the dark.
“Jesus, this place is creepy at night,” Hayley hisses.
“We knew it would be,” I reply. We keep going, and I point at a dim light in the distance. “That’s gotta be the visitor’s center; means we’re close. Let’s get off this lane. I don’t want to be seen.”
We move from the path and slink through the gravesites. I grab Hayley’s hand to stop her and freeze when we almost trip over a low stone.
She points to a Mausoleum rising up from the surrounding growth of bushes, its marble gleaming ghostly white in the faint sliver of moonlight.
“It should be just on the other side of that one,” she whispers.
I nod, and we creep toward it. I edge along the cold stone wall and peer around the corner. I can see the bench in the shadows and hear the tinkling fountain in the distance. Not spotting anyone, I turn to Hayley. “You wait here and wat
ch.”
“He tries anything, run for the gate and don’t look back. I’ll stall him with the gun.”
I grab her forearm. “Don’t you do anything reckless. Stay hidden unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
She just stares back at me.
I squeeze her arm. “Promise me.”
“Okay. Fine.”
I move to leave, but she stops me, pulling me in for a hug first. “Please be careful. Remember you have a baby to protect.”
I nod, swallow the sudden lump in my throat, and pull away. “Watch your back.”
Slipping from the shadows, I slink to the bench, but I’m too nervous to sit. My gaze darts all around, and I rub my upper arms. The only sounds I hear are crickets, cicadas, and the fountain. I smell the scent of honeysuckle and know there must be a vine growing somewhere nearby. The light from the visitor’s center down the lane gives me some comfort as I wait.
I hear a sound like a stone crunching under a boot. I think it comes from around the bend, but my gaze darts down all the converging paths. I hear another scrape, then slow footsteps.
My heart is pounding as a dark figure emerges from the shadowy path, walking straight toward me. I hold my breath and resist the urge to glance back toward the mausoleum where Hayley is hidden.
He’s big with broad shoulders. I can’t make out his face yet. I slip my phone from my pocket, turn on the flashlight app, and aim it at him.
He looks mean with dark slashing brows and a beard. His mustache curls up with his lip as he covers his eyes with his forearm and hisses, “Shut that fucking thing off.”
“Reload?”
“Yeah.” He sits on the bench and orders, “Sit down. I could spot you standing there from way back.”
I have no desire to get within arms length of him and hesitate.
“I said sit down.”
I slowly set my butt on the edge of the seat.
“You got some information from Growler?” he asks.
“He wants to know what your exact plan is, step by step.”
He stares at me and straightens a little more. “Really? That ain’t been how we’ve been communicating.”
I shrug. “I don’t know how you’ve been communicating, I just know what he told me.”
“We’ve been doin’ things through his lawyer.”
“Maybe he trusts his own daughter more than a slimeball attorney just in it for the money. Ya think?”
“Feldman ain’t so bad. But I see his point. You trustworthy, little Tess?”
“My father thinks so. That should be good enough for you.”
“How’re you gonna get the info to him?”
“There are ways. We talk in code. I tell him Aunt Edna’s birthday is on May 11th. The party’s at 6 p.m. Get it?”
“Oh, you’re a smart cookie. Pretty, too. You’ve grown up real good.”
Before I can stop him, he yanks my hat off, and all my hair spills out. “Well, look-ee there. Ain’t that a sight?” He wraps my hair around his fist and pulls me close. I fight, shoving back.
“Let me go.”
“Who’s gonna make me? You?”
I grab his wrist and dig my nails in until I break skin. “Touch me, and I’ll tell my father.
He laughs at my attempts. “You’re father’s in prison, baby doll.”
“Yeah, but he’s still got power over you, doesn’t he? I bet he’s got some juicy crimes he could rat you out for.”
“You bitch.” He releases me with a shove, and I quickly stand and move back.
“Tell me what he wants to know, so I can get out of here.”
“In a rush?” He stands as well, and I back up.
There’s a sound of a door opening at the visitor’s center.
Reload turns to look over his shoulder and hisses, “Fucking caretaker.”
“Just tell me the plan before we get caught.”
He ducks into the shadows near a bush, and I melt into the landscaping as well.
“Half the Death Demons will hit the clubhouse the night they pull out. The other half will be waiting for them at the first night’s stop in Paducah. Gonna take ‘em out right there, on the highway. Got a good spot picked out near a billboard about a mile before their exit. The Demons have a real good sniper. Should be able to pick ‘em all off. They’ll never know what hit ‘em. Then we take over the club.”
I nod. “Makes sense. All but one part.”
“What’s that?”
“The Devil Kings have chapters all over the country. What’s National leadership going to do with this?”
“Your dad figured that part out. They won’t know who hit the club; there won’t be any witnesses. It’ll get blamed on an enemy—probably the Evil Dead—Growler will say Rusty’s damn truce didn’t hold up and the Evil Dead double-crossed them. Then Growler will be out, take control, and bring us all back to rebuild the Atlanta chapter with no one the wiser.”
I stare at the gleam in his eyes at all this talk of death and destruction of families of men who used to be his brothers. I can’t help asking, “And why are you doing this?”
“Revenge, baby doll, same as your old man. I want my damn colors back. Those sons of bitches took ‘em from me the day they killed Rat. I didn’t have a fuckin’ thing to do with that bullshit.”
“So, you weren’t in on him setting up my father?”
“Nope.”
There’s something in his eyes that I don’t trust. I wonder if he’s playing my father to get back in… maybe take him out and take his chair at the head of the table. I wonder if Growler is using him as well, and will cast Reload aside the minute he’s no longer of use. Jesus, it’s worse than a Shakespearean play, full of double-crossing and intrigue.
Suddenly he grabs my arm. “Why don’t you come back to my place? You and me could have some fun tonight.”
I try to yank free, but his hold only tightens. “No thanks. Not interested.”
“You’re father’s gonna make me his VP.” His free hand strokes down my hair, his eyes focused on the silky strands running through his fingers. “Sure wouldn’t mind havin’ an ol’ lady like you. Bet I could even get Growler’s approval. How’s that sound, baby? You and me?”
I struggle, and he digs his fingers harder, breaking skin. His other hand jerks my head back with a fist in my hair.
“Let me go, or I’ll scream,” I warn.
He chuckles. “Who’s gonna save you? That old caretaker?”
My scalp stings, and I fight back tears, knowing they’ll only hinder my vision. Thinking fast, I knee him in the balls, and he releases me, doubling over, but his fist swings out and catches me in the cheek. Pain explodes across the side of my face. I stumble, and suddenly Hayley’s next to me, the gun in her two clenched hands, her arms locked straight.
“Touch her again, motherfucker, and I’ll shoot your dick off.”
Reload staggers forward, focusing on this new threat. He huffs out another laugh. “Think your little peashooter’s gonna stop me?”
She squeezes the trigger, hitting the ground at his feet. That stops him, but he glares at me. “This ain’t over darlin’. I’ll be seein’ you again real soon. I’ll make sure your old man hands you over to me on a silver platter.”
A flashlight flicks on back by the visitor center, and a voice calls out. “Who’s out here? I called the police!”
When Reload turns to look back, Hayley and I both dart into the shadows and run through the bushes. We zigzag through the graves, using anything we can find for cover. I can hear Reload behind us, cursing, but his voice is growing more distant.
I run until I get a stitch in my side. Bending over and holding it with one hand, I grab at Hayley’s sleeve. “Hold up.”
We hide behind a crypt and fight to catch our breath, both heaving. I’m terrified that Reload is right this second hightailing it down one of these paths, straight for us. I spot the gate in the wall about fifty yards away. I gesture to Hayley and point. She nods.
&
nbsp; We’re about to move again when she grabs my arm and hauls me back against the crypt wall. She puts her finger to her mouth and jerks her head toward the side, her eyes wide.
I lean to look and see a shadowy figure moving quickly down the brick path that leads straight to the same gate. It has to be Reload. He’s limping, and I’m glad I kneed him where it hurt.
A moment later, he’s over the gate and gone, his booted steps fading into the night.
I put my hands on my knees and bend over, feeling lightheaded and nauseous.
Hayley rubs my back and whispers, “He’s gone now. Are you okay?”
We see a dancing, bobbing light on the path and flatten against the wall again. I peer over and see the caretaker coming down the path. He flashes the light along the wall and shakes the gate. It clanks, proving it’s still padlocked.
He peers over the top, watching for a minute before heading back toward the visitor center.
As soon as we’re sure he’s gone, we hightail it out of there.
We jump in the car, and Hayley peels out of the parking lot. Neither of us says a word until we’re up on the interstate heading toward Sandy Springs.
Finally we both look at each other and start talking at once.
“Holy crap, I shot at him,” Hayley practically shouts.
“I was never so scared in all my life,” I pant, my heart still racing.
“What if I’d hit him? What if I’d killed him? I can’t go to jail, Tess. I don’t want to be somebody’s bitch.” Finally, she takes a breath and asks, “You okay? Did he hurt you?”
“He deserved it. The son-of-a-bitch punched me.” I pull down the visor and the little makeup lights come on. I study my face. There’s swelling around my temple and cheekbone, and I know I’m going to have a bruise. I push tenderly at the spot and feel the ache. “I’m okay.”
“I should have shot him in the crotch,” Hayley says, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. We’re zipping by other cars at a rapid speed.
I lean over and see she’s doing ninety. “Slow the fuck down. We don’t want to get pulled over.”
She eases up on the gas pedal and checks the rearview mirror. Her eyes are lit up by the little rectangle reflection of headlights, and I can see the worry.
