by Lane Hart
“Bit of wet-work, if I understand correctly,” he confirms.
“Just a little,” I assure him. “Three guys we have to deal with; two of them are injured.”
“Bah, you barely need me then. You’re bringing a flamethrower to a backyard barbecue,” he says.
“Hell, brother, I knew we could handle it without you. But me and the boys didn’t want you getting bored. We figured you could use the excitement.”
With a toothy grin, Miles looks over to the door. “Looks like our ride is here,” he says, nodding to Fast Eddie. “I appreciate you calling on me, Chase. Even if it’s an easy job, it means a lot to me to work with you.”
“Abe, Sax, let’s roll,” I yell as I head for the door. “You ready to ride, Eddie? Got the stuff?” I ask him.
“Yeah, Sparky’s in the van, and I put together the stuff you asked for. You, uh…you’re not gonna make me use those things, are you?” Eddie asks nervously.
“No way, man, the guy those are intended for is all mine. Don’t you worry about that,” I assure him.
Eddie nods to Miles and the other brothers as we all head back outside. “Let’s go grab a burger on the way,” Eddie suggests. “Once it’s a bit later and they’re settled in, this should be an easy job.”
“You sure you want to eat before something like this?” Sax asks Eddie.
“Shit, never mind,” Eddie replies glumly. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
…
We park the van several miles away from the house where Malcolm Butner is staying, and I call Reece on the burner. “What’s it look like in there, man?” I ask him.
“As expected,” Reece replies shortly. “Malcolm has just been helped into bed by one of his men. He is upstairs, second room on the left. The man who helped him into bed is in the bedroom straight down the hall. The soldier on watch is downstairs watching television in the front room. Sutton, the other injured guy, left and hasn’t been back, but I’ve seen no one else enter or leave.”
“Good deal, brother. It’s time. Cut their security feeds and stay near your phone. We’ll call you when we’re done.” I close the phone and nod to Eddie, who is looking back at me from the driver’s seat. “Park about a block down the street, and let’s get this done.”
A few minutes later, Eddie lets out a nervous laugh, killing the lights on the van just as the house comes into view. “Activate cloaking device,” he chortles. “We’re going in dark.”
“What the fuck are you on about, man?” Sax asks him. “Park this bitch and let’s go.”
Sparky looks up from the floorboards and whines as Eddie kills the engine. “This ain’t the park, buddy, but you might get to play a bit.” Gathering up the bulldog in his arms, he digs into a bag beside him and pulls out a well-chewed plush groundhog.
“What’s that for?” Abe asks, nodding towards the squeaky toy.
“I had to bring something to get him barking,” Eddie explains. “Nothing gets him going faster than his humpy.”
“His humpy?” Abe snickers.
Sparky is already eyeing the groundhog and growling softly. “Oh yeah, see? He’s about to lose his shit already. Let’s go before he starts rubbing his rocket on me.”
Chuckling, I grab my bag of tools, and we all pile out of the van. “All right, Eddie, you and Sparky go around the left side of the house, like we planned. Miles, you go with him. Get Sparky going; and when the dude comes out, Miles will take care of him. Abe and Sax, you’re with me. We’ll be on the right side and back you up if anything goes wrong. Eddie, after we’re in, you bring Sparky back to the van and keep watch.”
Everyone gives their agreement before we pull ski masks over our faces, then cross the yard to hustle into our positions. Reece had told us there were neighbors through the woods behind the house, but the place is fairly isolated, with no other surrounding homes.
Once Abe, Sax, and I are in position, we sit tight, listening as Sparky begins growling and yipping from the other side of the house. Sax lets out a short, nervous giggle as we hear the ‘humpy’ begin to squeak furiously, just before Sparky erupts into a fit of furious barking.
“Madre de Dios!” we hear someone roar from inside the house. “Esteban, go shut that dog up!”
Sax slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle another burst of laughter, just before we hear the front door open and the porch light come on, illuminating the front yard. We’re safely out of range around the house, but I can hear heavy footsteps on the stairs. I motion to Abe, who raises his pistol in preparation, just in case this dumb bastard comes around our side instead.
I didn’t need to worry. Just a few seconds later, I hear “Que mierda?” just before two soft, hissing shots through the silencer and something heavy hitting the ground. “Let’s go,” I tell the brothers.
Miles is already at the foot of the stairs, pistol still in his hand, and Eddie is hustling back towards the van with Sparky cradled in his arms. With a quick nod to Miles, I take the lead, clearing the entrance and making sure to check behind the door for any surprises. Pointing to Sax, I signal for him to stay downstairs and watch the front before I lead Miles and Abe up the stairs.
I motion for Miles to take the door at the end of the hall, then Abe and I take positions outside Malcolm’s room. On my signal, Abe kicks open the door, and I leap forward, gun levelled at the bed.
Malcolm Butner is propped up against some pillows in the dark room, his broken leg stretched out before him. His head snaps up as I enter, and his right arm fumbles instinctively for the gun on his bedside table. Terrible positioning for him, since his right arm is the one in the cast. He slaps his hand down on it futilely as I cross the room, smashing the butt of my gun across the bridge of his nose.
The asshole screams and sputters, trying to roll away from me as Abe secures the gun on the nightstand. Miles enters a moment later, smoke still rising from the silencer on his pistol. He nods to me, confirming that the house is now clear, and then comes over to help me as I throw some zip-ties from my tool bag onto the bed.
“Bring me a chair from the dining room,” I order Abe, as I keep my gun pressed against the back of Malcolm’s head. Abe nods and takes off, while Miles begins going through my bag, looking at the other implements I’ve brought with us.
“Hector’s gonna fucking kill you,” Malcolm spits, snorting through the blood still running out of his nose.
“Not tonight,” Miles responds calmly. “Tonight is your special night. We are going to kill you. If you answer our questions, you die easy. If you don’t want to answer them, then, well…your suffering will be legendary.”
Malcolm freezes at the harsh threat, allowing me, Abe and Miles to easily zip-tie his leg and arms into position in the chair.
“You two head back downstairs,” I order Miles and Abe once Malcolm is secured. Miles looks over the sharpened wood clamps he pulled from my bag, along with the modified jumper cables and the machete I packed.
“You sure you don’t need me?” Miles asks. “Those tools are the kinds of things that give men nightmares. I’m not talking about the victims; I’m talking about the guys using them.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “This slimy little dickhead wants to hurt my family. I want to do this.”
Nodding, Miles asks, “You still want us to set it up like a cartel hit?” Miles asks.
“Yeah. You guys go handle that. I’ll be down after our conversation.” I turn to Malcolm, whose eyes are practically bugging out of his head staring at my tools. I pull the last item out of my bag, a ball-gag, and hold it up to his face.
“Decision time, Malcolm,” I say pleasantly. “Shall we talk, or shall I get to work?”
…
Half an hour later I head downstairs, weary and frustrated. Abe, Miles, and Sax are all gathered in the kitchen, keeping an eye out for any interruptions.
“You get what you need?” Abe asks when I appear. “Seems like it went pretty fast.”
“We’re done here,�
� I tell them shortly. And without any further conversation, we jog back to the van. Sparky is in the shotgun seat, so we all pile into the back, breathing heavily as we finally pull off our ski masks. Eddie wastes no time driving off; and a few moments later, we’re clear of the scene.
“All right, man, time to spill the beans,” Abe says. “What was all this about tonight?”
With a heavy sigh, I look around at my brothers. “Torin’s in trouble. Hector Cruz set his goons on me and Abe to remind Torin that he owes him some money. Hector’s demanding Torin cough up a million dollars, or he’s going to leak some sort of video showing our President doing…something. Torin’s already coughed up no telling how much cash before now to that fucker.”
“What the hell could Torin have done that’s worth a million bucks to hide?” Abe asks.
“Torin won’t tell me what it is. I had hoped Malcolm would know, but it looks like Hector is playing this close to his chest. It doesn’t have anything to do with the cartel or their drugs. It’s something Malcolm and their crew of traffickers aren't involved with. The only things Malcolm knew was that Hector has promised the Aces access to our fucking territory and that just two people are aware of what the shit with Torin is about - Hector, and for some reason, Hector’s daughter, a chick named Lexi.”
“If it’s not about drugs,” Miles says, “then Hector is going rogue and doing this without the cartel backing him up. They might not be happy that he’s making plays on the side, without their involvement. And if only he and his daughter know what it is…”
“I’m not going to play any guessing games,” I interrupt. “Torin’s our president, and he wouldn’t do anything intentionally to hurt this club. We’ll figure this shit out together, and if it means taking down Hector and dealing with backlash from the cartel…”
“We’ll make them regret even glancing at our territory,” Abe finishes. “This is our town, and these drugs they’re slinging are hurting our people. We’ll make them bleed for every person they’ve hurt trying to muscle in on our home.”
“You’re damned right we will.” I nod to Abe. “I just hope that we can shut them down before too many of us have to bleed with them.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sasha
Chase got home late last night; and from what I can tell, things didn’t go as well as he'd hoped. Instead of staying in the clubhouse, he wanted us to come back to the farmhouse to have more privacy.
I asked if we could take his bike, and he gave me some excuse about a storm coming and how he didn’t want us to get caught in it. I didn’t press the issue but plan to bring it up again soon.
When both of our phones start going off early in the morning, I sneak out of bed and grab them both to take them downstairs, so Chase can get more sleep.
Since Debra, the station’s producer, has called me twice, I go ahead and call her back.
“Hey, Debra, it’s Sasha,” I say.
“Sasha, how are you feeling? Any better?”
“Yes,” I say to further the lie I told her yesterday when I called in sick. “Hopefully I can recover over the weekend and be back on Monday.”
Honestly, I’ve enjoyed my break. It’s nice not to worry about how I look or what hateful comments I’ll get on social media about my outfits.
“Glad to hear you’re on the mend,” Debra says. “And congrats! World News Tonight called to get our referral for you and said you got the job!”
“I did,” I reply. “But I don’t think I’m going to take it.”
“Really? I thought you were excited?”
“I was, but I’m happy here,” I say, thinking of Chase upstairs in the bed.
“It’s a big decision,” Debra says. “We’ll support you in whatever you decide.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell her.
“I’ll let you go rest up,” she says. “You’re missing one helluva news day, though.”
“Oh really?” I ask, curious and a little disappointed to miss out on the excitement. “What’s going on?”
“You know the motorcycle gang that wears the bearded skull with a crown, the Savage Kings?”
“Yes,” I say, not willing to tell her just how intimately I know them.
“There was a shooting outside their clubhouse, like a rival gang or something, and…”
“And?” I ask impatiently.
“A woman was shot.”
“No,” I gasp. Looking at the screen of Chase’s phone, I see a list of missed call from several of his brothers. Fuck. “Who?” I ask Debra.
“They haven’t released her name yet, but there are rumors she was one of the old ladies.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp when my breath is knocked out of my lungs and tears fill my eyes. “I-I have to go,” I tell her before I end the call and run up the steps with both of our phones. “Chase,” I say kneeling on my side of the bed to shake his shoulder “Chase, baby, wake up!” I urge as a sob leaves my throat.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks as he pops up, bleary-eyed in concern.
“There was a shooting…at the clubhouse.” I open his hand and put his phone in it. He blinks at the list of missed calls and curses before his finger moves over the buttons, and he puts it up to his ear.
“Abe,” he says. I’m close enough to hear Abe’s response.
“It’s bad man. We’re at the hospital, but it’s not looking good.”
I slap my hand over my mouth in worry as Chase explodes, coming out of bed and pulling on his jeans with one hand with the phone between his shoulder and ear.
“What the fuck’s going on? Who’s at the hospital?” he shouts.
I can’t hear Abe’s response, but I know by the way Chase’s back slumps against the wall that it’s her.
Kennedy, Torin’s wife, is in the hospital, and her and their baby are most likely fighting for their lives.
…
Chase
Thank fuck my body runs on automatic functions, or I’d be worthless.
Kennedy was shot by some stupid motherfucker right outside of our clubhouse. Abe said that, after the ambulance got her to the hospital, they took her back to surgery and they hadn’t told Torin a damn thing in over an hour.
Sasha and I ran through the parking lot and into the surgical waiting room, looking for my brother. I knew that Torin was gonna be a wreck, but seeing him was even worse than I expected. He jumps up from his chair to throw his arms around me, and my throat clogs up with emotion when I see the blood soaking through his cut, his shirt, and his jeans.
“How is she?” I ask when he pulls back and wipes his eyes on the short sleeves of his tee.
“They won’t tell me…they won’t tell me anything about her or…or the baby,” he says with a clenched jaw.
Clasping his shoulder, I tell him, “Kennedy is tough. She’s a fighter, and I bet that kid of yours is too.”
“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. “Yeah, they are.”
The guys make room for Sasha and me to sit next to Torin, Sasha’s fingers squeezing mine while we all wait in silence. Torin can’t sit still for long. He’s up pacing most of the time.
I want to ask what the fuck happened, but now’s not the time. If I had to guess, it had to have been Hector. Torin is probably blaming himself, and I know exactly how he feels. The waiting while Sasha was in surgery was the worst hours of my life. Hearing the doctor say she was in recovery and doing well was such a relief I nearly kissed the man.
“Get them the fuck out of here!” Torin shouts when he looks through the windows of the hospital and sees the media vans out front.
“On it,” Sax says, jumping up to head outside.
“I can’t believe this,” Torin mutters to himself, scrubbing his hands across his face over and over again. “She has to be okay. She has to!”
“Mr. Fury?”
I swear the entire world stopped spinning in the seconds following the surgeon’s appearance in the middle of the waiting room. Our whole group jump
s to our feet as Torin stands frozen in place like he can’t make himself walk over and talk to the man in blue scrubs who has answers for him. Thankfully, the surgeon comes to us instead. His face is solemn, not the least bit hopeful before he speaks.
“I’m so sorry,” he tells Torin. “We did everything we could…”
“How is she?” Torin interrupts, still holding out hope, unable to accept the words as the doctor meant them.
“I’m sorry, but your wife’s heart stopped while in transit. We tried to revive her and deliver your son. We couldn’t save either of them.”
“No!” Torin gasps. “No, please, God, no!”
“I’m so sorry for your losses,” the surgeon says again, then walks away as if he didn’t just drop the atomic bomb that annihilated everything that was good in my brother’s life.
Torin falls to his knees and buries his head in his hands as he starts to sob. I kneel down beside him and wrap my arms around him as tears overflow from my eyes.
I can’t believe Kennedy is gone. It just…it doesn’t seem possible that something so awful could happen to someone so good. And the poor baby…
There’s no way that my brother will ever be able to recover from this. But as soon as he has a chance to grieve, heads are gonna fucking roll, and I’ll be right there with him, swinging the ax.
…
Sasha
Death is nothing new for me. As a reporter, I’ve seen all kinds of horrible tragedies, the worst moments in all sorts of lives.
But this, being here at the hospital with Chase when the doctor gave the devastating news to Torin that his wife and baby are gone is more painful than anything I’ve ever experienced. Maybe because I know the news is also hurting the man I love.
I didn’t even know Kennedy that well, only spoke to her once when we went to dinner, but still, my heart is breaking because she was such a sweet woman and didn’t deserve to have her life taken so soon.
The entire packed waiting room remains frozen, most of us crying silently as we listen to Torin’s heartbreaking sobs. And at this moment, when his entire life has been turned upside down, all of his men surround him placing a hand on his back or shoulder or arm to show him their respect and condolences, their solidarity.
