Lion

by Jessie Cooke

  18

  “If he catches us up here, Luger, he’ll kill us.” Walt’s voice was shaky. Luger shook his head. He’d seen Walt kill more than one man over the years, up close and personal too…all he needed was the order and he’d do just about anything. But that fire twenty-two years ago still haunted him, and he was still scared to death that Jungle Boy was going to find out and come after them for it. Sometimes Luger wondered if he’d kept Walt around too long, but since Dax had actually let the fat dimwit become a patched-in member of the Skulls, getting rid of him wouldn’t just be a matter of leaving him somewhere with a bullet in his head. Dax took the lives of his crew seriously, even the idiots.

  “I’m not scared of that freak,” Luger said, and it was true, for the most part. Lion was a fighter, trained in a gym for years, and Luger was sure that in a fair fight, the jungle boy could kick his ass, not that he’d admit that to anyone. But the last time Luger was in a fair fight, he was twelve years old. Only morons showed up for a fight unarmed, and Luger wasn’t a moron. His daddy hadn’t raised a fool. Even more so than Walt, Dax had an investment in Jungle Boy…and if there was one person on earth that scared Luger more than his piece-of-shit daddy, it was Dax. He’d lain in wait for twenty-two fucking years for his chance to wipe this asshole off the face of the earth, though, and he was getting tired of waiting. For a long time he’d go months or even years without having to see the cocky bastard strut around the ranch…now all of a sudden, since he’d smelled Hawk’s kid’s pussy, they could hardly get rid of him.

  As Luger worked on the lock of the side door of the house he told Walt, “You see him earlier, trying to act like he was that fucking whore Amy’s savior. That bitch has sucked every dick on that ranch, twice. He’s gonna act like she’s a fucking lady who needs saving. You know who was a lady, Walt? My mama, that’s who. My mama who suffered because of the no-account two-dollar-witch whore that raised this freak.” Luger chuckled and said, “You ever wonder what she thought about as she was burning?” Walt shook his head back and forth, vigorously.

  “No, Luger. I don’t want to know what she was thinking. Maybe we should just leave Lion alone. He’s been through a lot…”

  Luger turned and punched Walt in the chest. Walt let out an “oomph” noise but Luger’s fist didn’t do much to budge the big man. Walt rubbed the spot on his chest with another dramatic whimper, and Luger said:

  “Shut up and give me that screwdriver.” Walt handed him the screwdriver and Luger stuck it in the deadbolt. The whole thing jiggled. He wasn’t surprised to find such a flimsy lock…what the fuck would Jungle Boy have that anyone would want to steal anyways? It took him just over a minute to pop the deadbolt and another half a minute to unlock the knob. Walt covered his ears when Luger pulled the door open. “You’re so fucking stupid. He lives in a dump…you think he has an alarm?” Walt looked sad, like he always did when Luger called him names, but Luger didn’t feel sorry for him. If he didn’t have any more self-respect than to allow it, that was his fucking problem.

  “Fuck me!” Luger stood in the kitchen as Walt stepped in behind him. It was small, maybe three feet across and six feet long. There was a skinny stove, an apartment-sized refrigerator, and a sink. There was no table, but a shelf built against one wall held over a dozen mason jars, and each of them were filled with something different. But that wasn’t what had immediately caught his eye. It was the crystals. Hanging from the ceiling…covering it…were crystals of different shapes and sizes. In the dark they sparkled like distant stars and Walt was looking up at them too, with a look of wonder on his face that suddenly pissed Luger off. “He’s a bigger fucking freak than I thought.”

  “They’re kind of pretty.” Luger punched him in the chest again and said:

  “Go look in the other room and see what you can find; anything worth a dollar, take it.”

  “Luger, what if he comes back…?”

  “We’ll hear him coming a mile away, fuck-nuts! Besides, he followed Hawk’s little bitch of a daughter upstairs just over an hour ago…he won’t be back for a while. Now go on!”

  Walt took a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking into the other room. Luger rolled his eyes, shook his head, and pictured himself shooting the fat bastard again; it calmed him down sometimes. Once Walt was out of the way, he walked over to look at the jars on the shelf. The first one had something in it that looked like glue sticks…only they were filled with something red that almost looked like blood. He picked it up and held his flashlight to it. On the bottom of the jar was a small, white label. It had the name of a store or something on it and it said, “Cleveland Mississippi.” He took a closer look, and handwritten in a light-colored pen against the glass of the jar it said, “Dragon Blood Sticks.” Luger shook his head again. Crazy motherfucker.

  He put that jar back and picked up the next one; it was half filled with a yellow, powdery substance that looked like sulfur to Luger. He lifted it up and on the bottom it had the same label and next to it was written, “Brimstone.” Luger laughed and said out loud, “Well, won’t that be appropriate…fire and fucking brimstone.” He worked open the lid and as soon as he did, the smell of rotten eggs wafted out and his stomach lurched. At the same time, Walt came back in through the door and Luger lost his hold on the jar. It fell to the floor and shattered, sending up a noxious cloud of sulfur and glass, skittering across the wood floor. “You dumb fuck!”

  “Jesus, Luger, what is that? I think I’m going to throw up.” Walt was clutching something in his hands, but holding his fat belly at the same time. Luger pulled his bandanna off his head and covered his face with it.

  “Get the fuck outside if you’re gonna puke!” Walt scrambled out the back and Luger used his flashlight to take another look around. The light fell across the back wall and Luger realized it wasn’t actually a wall, it was a thick, black curtain. Crunching glass and sulfur under his boots, he made his way over to it and pulled it up…and then he smiled. It was almost a replica of the little shack they’d burned down that night, desk, drawings, and all. Only most of these drawings weren’t bikers and Harleys. These were drawings of Hawk’s kid…dozens of them. Luger scooped up a handful of them and then used his arm to wipe the rest of them off the desk and onto the floor. He thought about the lighter in his pocket and how good it would feel to watch the place burn…the way he had all those years ago, knowing the old lady was inside. But it was going to feel so much better when the Jungle Boy was trapped inside…and maybe as a bonus, Hawk’s little bitch too. He smiled, wadding up the drawings in his fist, and stuffed them into the front of his vest. Just before going out the door he used the flashlight to swipe at some of the crystals dangling from the ceiling. He felt the shards rain down on his head as he left, like falling stars…and he smiled again.

  Lion felt the stares of everyone in the club when he came down the stairs the next morning. He’d worked hard over the years to overcome that feeling…the one where he felt like everyone was judging him. It still niggled at him now, but at least they weren’t judging him for being a freak this time…most of them, anyways. Dax and Handsome were having breakfast at one of the tables and Dax motioned him over.

  “Hey, good morning. I didn’t know you were here.”

  Lion tried to keep a casual look as he said, “Yeah, just stopped by for my pay, but you’re busy…I can come back later.” Handsome was grinning up at him. He winked and said:

  “Yeah, bet you thought you might find him upstairs at the end of the hall, huh?” Lion felt his face flush. Nothing happened on the fucking ranch that everyone didn’t know about five minutes later. Of course Madison wasn’t even trying to be quiet the second go-around that morning when he had her bent over the dresser.

  “I should go and let y’all finish your breakfast.”

  “Why don’t you join us and then I’ll go have Rat grab your pay,” Dax said. Lion wanted to say no. He was about at his limit for socialization…but it was Dax, and saying no to him was next
to impossible. He forced a smile and said:

  “Sure. I could eat. I’ll go grab a plate.”

  “Sit down, Lion, I’ll get it.” Lion hadn’t even seen Angel walk up behind him. She bent down and kissed Dax on the cheek and then patted Lion on the arm. She was dressed to the nines in a cream-colored business suit, her long, beautiful hair ironed flat and lying like silk down her back. Beautiful women had always made him nervous, but since the day Lion first met Angel, she’d had a strange calming effect on him.

  “You sure, Angel? I don’t mind getting it myself…”

  “Sit,” she told him. Angel’s orders on the ranch were just as hard to ignore as Dax’s. Dax and Handsome were both smiling as he sat down and Angel headed back toward the kitchen. As soon as she was gone Dax said,:

  “How’s the old geezer doing? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

  “He’s holed up out in his trailer, I guess. Madison said he’s hateful and grumpy.”

  Dax laughed. “Sounds like he’s doing fine. Any word on a donor yet?”

  “Nah, not that I’ve heard.” Dax looked at Handsome and Lion saw him visibly cringe. With a sigh Handsome said:

  “I’m going, today.” Dax grinned and popped a piece of toast in his mouth.

  “Bunch of big-ass babies around here, scared of a little blood test.” Cody was walking by about that time and as soon as he heard what they were talking about he turned and went the other direction. Dax laughed again and said, “Case in point. I think all the girls have already been tested.”

  “I’m going today,” Handsome growled. “I’ve been busy.”

  Still chuckling, Dax waited for Angel to set Lion’s plate and coffee down in front of him and then said, “Speaking of, Lion, if you’re looking for any more work this week, we’ve got a shipment of parts that need to get to the Black Aces warehouse in New York. The prospects will take care of the load-up and driving, we’ll just need a few guys riding point.”

  Lion nodded, thanked Angel for the food, and when she walked away he said, “Sure, just let me know when and where, I’ll be there.”

  “Don’t worry, this time I won’t send the old fucker with you.”

  Lion laughed. That was Dax’s favorite name for Hawk…since they were kids. While he ate his breakfast and listened to Dax and Handsome bullshit he was taken back to the first time he met him.

  Lion was about fourteen years old and it was right after he got out of juvenile hall for assault. Hawk was picking him up every day and taking him down to the dump where he spent eight hours a day, sorting shit into recycling piles as part of his community service. It was bad enough riding bitch on Hawk’s bike after the old man had taken the dirt bike he’d bought for Lion away, but when Hawk said they had to stop by the ranch on their way to the dump that morning, Lion almost refused to go.

  He was still sulking when they got there and one of the old guys was working the gate when they rolled in. As soon as Hawk slowed down, the old biker made a nasty crack about his “pretty new girl.” Lion’s whole body tensed, but Hawk just laughed and kept going. From there they went up to the shop and while Hawk ran in, he told Lion to wait outside. Lion was grateful it was early and no one seemed to be around, but it wasn’t long before he heard the hum of a small roadster coming up the lane. He looked up as the man rolled in next to him and he was surprised as hell when the man took off his helmet and turned out to be a boy, just about his age. Lion had met Doc, but he’d never met his son. He knew, however, as soon as he saw those intense blue eyes that this was the prince of the ranch he’d heard so much about.

  “Hey,” Dax had said. “That’s Hawk’s bike.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Lion was sitting astride it, trying not to look like he’d just rode in holding onto the back of Hawk’s vest as the crazy fucker took each corner almost lying down. He nodded.

  “Yeah. He’s inside.”

  Dax stepped off his bike. He was a few inches taller than Lion, but a lot thinner. He was looking at him like he expected Lion to say something, but as usual, he had no idea what to say. Finally Dax said, “You’re Kate’s grandson, right?” Lion’s body tensed again. He wasn’t surprised Dax knew about his Me Maw, the whole Southside did…but no one called her by her first name other than Hawk, and “you’re hers” was usually followed by something Lion had to kick ass for. He braced himself and said:

  “Yeah, that’s right,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m Lion.”

  “Dax,” he said. Lion nodded and then Dax surprised him by pulling up the leg of his jeans. There was a big bandage on the side of his calf and he said, “I dumped the dirt bike the other day in a ditch just off that road that leads up to your place. The pipes burned a hole through my jeans and burned the shit out of my leg before I got it off of me. Hawk just so happened to have come out to take your grandma into town for groceries or something and as they passed they saw me pulling it out of the ditch and stopped. Your grandma insisted I come up to the house and let her clean it up and put some stuff on it…I have to admit, I was a little skeptical.”

  Still feeling defensive Lion said, “Oh yeah, why’s that?” Lion didn’t know if his stomach felt so bad about what Dax might say next, or the idea of the boy being in their house. The place was filled with his Me Maw’s crystals and potions…things that made everyone in town think they were both freaks.

  “She just had a bunch of stuff in these little jars that she pulled out and my leg was on fucking fire, but Hawk told me to quit being a pussy and sit still and as much as I can’t stand that old fucker, he was right about this. She sang or something while she was wiping this stuff on the burn, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t hurt at all.” Lion had been surprised to feel himself smiling. It was rare that anyone other than Hawk ever said anything nice about his Me Maw. She always sang hoodoo chants when she nursed his wounds; it was to promote the healing, she said. Her voice was soothing to Lion, but most other people found it as odd as everything else about her.

  “Cool,” Lion said, for lack of anything better. Dax laughed and said:

  “Yeah, cool.” Hawk stepped out of the shop about that time and Dax cocked an eyebrow at Lion and said, “Your grandma’s cool. This fucker on the other hand…” Lion had actually laughed at that as Dax walked past Hawk without so much as a word. Hawk rolled his eyes and as Lion stepped off the bike to let Hawk on he said:

  “What did the arrogant little prince have to say?”

  “That you’re an old fucker.”

  Hawk threw his head back and laughed.

  Lion looked at Dax now and thought how some things never changed…and that wasn’t always bad.

  19

  Two hours after breakfast, Lion finally escaped the ranch and headed for home. Dax had distracted him from his thoughts about Madison, and his feelings, so that was a good thing at least. Now as he rode back toward his cabin, the anxiety began to once again seep into his system. He hadn’t wanted to “feel” things for her, but he’d been powerless to stop it. He’d thought avoiding her would help, but avoiding her had turned out to be almost as impossible as ignoring the feelings. He didn’t know what to call them even. He was sure it wasn’t love…but it had to be something close. He felt protective of her. He felt like he wanted to do whatever he could to make her happy…hell, he was even hoping his tissue would match so he could give the old fucker a piece of his body to make her happy. Maybe that was just a little bit about Hawk too, but those were feelings that he really didn’t want to explore. What he felt for Madison was scary and confusing, but mostly it felt good. His feelings towards Hawk were much more convoluted and it was hard to untangle anything good from the pain that still threatened to choke him when he thought about the past.

  He’d left Madison that morning right after telling her that he’d “call her.” He’d never told a woman that…and now as he pulled up in front of his cabin he couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck he might talk about if he did call. He parked the bike in front of the porch and
as soon as he stepped off, all thoughts of Madison and feelings were instantly put on hold.

  The dirt in front of the porch steps had been brushed, or swept, like someone had been trying to cover up footprints. Even his footprints from when he left the day before were no longer there. Instantly on alert, Lion pulled the gun out of his saddlebag and made his way up onto the porch. The wood underneath his feet was dusty and it too looked like someone had swiped something back and forth in front of the door and windows. Still with his gloves on, he pulled open the screen door and put his hand on the knob. As he tried to turn it, he was relieved to find it was still locked. The windows on either side of the door looked untouched as well.

  Telling himself it was probably his overactive imagination, anxiety trying to distract him once again from his thoughts about Madison, he made his way around the side of the house toward the back door that led out from the living room. Again, he saw brush marks there, and the closer he got to the door, the more he was able to convince himself that he wasn’t imagining things. That door was still locked too, though, but there was one more. With a knot in his stomach, he made his way to the last one, the one that sat along the darkest side of the house and led to the kitchen. As soon as he saw the dirt in front of the door, he knew someone had been inside. The brush marks were there, but a light yellow powder dusted the two steps that led up to the door…sulfur, or brimstone, whichever you’d like to call it. There were also tiny pieces of colored, crushed glass that had probably been stuck to the bottom of someone’s boots as they left his house. With his heart accelerating and his breaths coming in heavy, uneven gasps, he reached for the doorknob. It almost fell off in his hand and the door easily swung inward. Gun in hand and back to the wall, he entered his kitchen, and felt like he wanted to get sick as soon as he did.