by Ryder Dane
John didn’t know what made him sit back down in the chair that he almost jumped out of to get his hands on the fucker in the blocks. Instead of running out to the back, he began telling Baron every detail of the past few days, and concluding with his self-assessment.
“I had to wait until that cockbite son-of-a-bitch hurt her before I could grab my balls and admit that I can make my own spot in her life. She’s not buying it yet, but she will, once I have the time to convince her I’m sincere.
“I’ll teach her how to protect herself, but she’s scared of the fucker, and scared people make last second hesitations. I have a big hate going on for him, he violated my woman, and there’s no rock he can hide under that I won’t find him.”
Baron could see that John was as mad at himself as he was at the fuck that hurt Stevie. He remembered the way he’d felt about someone hurting Stretch. Just thinking about that shit made him want to kill the dead fucker.
“We have a problem here, I can’t let you hurt Donnie Lee too much unless we get a club vote. You know this, so think about what you plan to do with him before you go off on the man. I’m not looking for an affiliation, I’m happier than hell when they stay in their swamp, but they made gestures last year when Jean Lefore tried to pull his shit. Mostly because they would just be cannon fodder in the middle. They had enough sense to reject that South American drug peddler. We were the lesser of evils.”
John remembered, it had taken most of the smaller clubs and both the Bastards and Lucifer’s Breed to send those fucks away from the tri-state area.
He nodded at Baron, and the men shook hands before John left the room to make a visit to Donnie Lee Dean.
*****
Donnie was cursing the split tail that suckered him. If he ever got the chance, she was gonna get exactly what she deserved, and he would enjoy every minute punishing her for daring to fuck him over. That skinny ass of hers was gonna feel his whip, and he entertained himself with fantasies of slapping her generous tits until she screamed and begged him to stop.
He should’ve known better than to believe a beautiful woman like that driving a baby blue Camero from the early 70’s was harmless, but that car was fuckin’ cherry. The woman was long legged, and bending over the trunk trying to get the spare tire out wearing ass cheek baring shorts and a cropped top that her tits were spilling out of as she straightened up when he stopped to help her. She was tall and long limbed, and thinking of the way she would thank him made him smile and drop right into her trap.
The spot on his neck where she’d laid that fuckin Taser itched, and the duct tape sticky shit was tangled in the few hairs left on his damned arms once that big motherfucker they called Skids had sliced through and then peeled the shit from his body. Skids, and two other fuckers named Leech and Burger, replaced the duct tape with steel cuffs and leg irons. He was currently leashed to an eyebolt secured in the cement floor of a room that was constructed of blocks. There was a bucket in the corner for him to do his business or take a piss. At least they left his hands cuffed in front of him.
The bastard Burger had told him, “I’m cuffing you in front, ‘cause I ain’t holding your pecker for you to take a piss, and I ain’t planning on spoon feeding your ass either. Try any stupid shit and you won’t like what happens. You ain’t gonna take my advice to heart, ‘cause you Swamp Rats just don’t learn easy, but when John gets here, you might want to tell him what he wants to know, it’ll save you some teeth and a whole world of hurt.”
The asshole smiled then, and said “Hell, boy, it might save your life. Did you know our boy was a Ranger in the Army? If he has to head back south, who knows who might be in his path to the fucker that you fools are protectin’.”
He shook his head and laughed as they heard a door slam and a man scream. “You don’t happen to know a Rat by the tag of Sonny Paulson? Nah, you wouldn’t know him by his scream now would you? Swamp Rats squeal when they’re hurt don’t they?” He laughed as he shut the door behind him, leaving Donnie behind to deal with his thoughts.
Thinking about fuckin’ that bitch up just made his dick hard, and he didn’t want his jailers to see him sittin’ here in cuffs with a hard-on. They might get the wrong idea, and that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with.
Aside from his miscalculation in picking that bar on the state line, the rest of this shit was all Candle’s doing. He was tired of the entire thing. He couldn’t give Candle up, not without a world of shit coming down on his head. So he came up with a plan that should make everyone happy.
By the time the door opened again, he was prepared for just about any scenario. He’d been hearing the screams coming through the door for the past two hours, and it sounded like they were doling out pain to Sonny slowly over time. He wasn’t a close friend of the brother, but Sonny hadn’t done anything to deserve this kind of shit that he knew of either.
A big motherfucker walked into the room and he held the door for the one called Skids to carry in two chairs. The big fucker had to be John. The chairs were set down in the middle of the room, and Skids left them alone.
John sat in one of the chairs and pushed the other one toward Donnie. “Sit.” Donnie shrugged his shoulders and sat. Whatever happened, he was ready, at least that was what he told himself. He was surprised when the man pulled two cans of beer from his pocket and handed one over to him. He didn’t know what this fucker was up to, but he was powerful thirsty, so he popped the top and took a couple of draws on the ice cold liquid before John began to speak.
“Okay, Donnie Lee Dean, it’s like this. I want the cowardly motherfucker that got his rocks off on frightening and violating my woman. I can say with confidence that I could beat you until you’d need some poor hag to wipe your chin and sing you nursery rhymes, and you won’t give your brother up.” He popped the top of his own beer and swallowed a good portion of it, and continued.
“I understand you happen to be Pappy D’s kid, and are the heir apparent to the leadership role of the Swamp Rats. Don’t get that pissed look either, you want my fuckin’ respect, boy, you gotta fuckin’ earn it. From everything I’ve seen and heard, there isn’t one of you worth the cost of the bullet it’d take to shoot you with.
“You look surprised, but your club is a fuckin’ disgrace to legitimate clubs, it’s not respect or fear that has kept your people from being allowed to patch over to other clubs. Any club with any common sense knows better than to trust one of you as far as we can see you. If you lazy bastards can’t steal it, you sell poison to kids, and threaten until you get what you want. Not a man in your group actually works for a living, and your women are pregnant all the fuckin’ time providing you all with welfare checks and food stamps.
“Your fuckin’ litter mate was beating on a boy who was working in his family business to earn his way through college when I stopped him. That brain dead fuck that was with him was real brave with a pig sticker in his hand.” He drank another swallow, attempting to keep his temper in check. “I don’t understand your way of life, and I don’t want to. I’ve earned every fucking thing I own, and so has every man in the Breed.”
The mad inside John was too much for him to handle, so he stood and grabbed the chair he’d been sitting in, and hurled it with every bit of strength in his arm. The chair splintered on the wall, breaking into pieces. The big man threw the can in his hand behind it for emphasis, and began to pace.
“You’ll be taken care of while you’re our guest, I’ll have you moved across the hall, but you will be with us until I either find that cocksucking coward, or your daddy turns him over to me.”
John stepped close enough for Donnie to attempt to slug him, but Donnie wasn’t taking that bait. The man put his finger in his face.
“You’re gonna call your daddy and tell him for me that I don’t plan on killing the fucker in his sleep, he’ll get a fair fight, and if he can walk away when it’s over, he’ll be free to go. If he keeps hiding, I won’t be too picky where he is or who he’s with, as long
as he isn’t moving by the time I’m done. You get me, boy?”
Donnie nodded his head, and decided to try reasoning with the crazy fucker. “I was on my way to get Candle when your whore waylaid me. Pappy D wanted to talk to him about the situation. I think he was planning to cut him loose from the Swamp Kings. He’s been more trouble than he’s worth for a while now, so don’t think your issue is the only one. If you wait a few days, maybe a week, he’s fair game for you.”
John wondered if the man actually believed a slug like Candle would just peacefully walk away from his hideaway without doing damage. What the fuck, why should he bother trying to explain a damn thing to this kid, no matter the boy had to be close to thirty, he wasn’t a man yet, maybe that’s why those ignorant fucks acted like they did. None of them grew up.
He pulled his cell phone out and asked for Pappy D’s direct number.
“Is this Pappy D? Who am I, well I’m the man who has your boy here, and you get him back once I get what I want.” The old man was shouting endearments at him and he smiled. “If you keep that kinda shit up, I won’t let him talk to you. Really? Name the place, I’ll be there, you want to think you’re man enough to cash that check your mouth’s writing, I’ll be happy to oblige. Now that you have that out of your system, I’m gonna show you what a reasonable man I can be.”
He handed the phone to Donnie and waited for the younger man to finish staring at him while he talked to his father.
Donnie ended the call when he finally said, “Yeah, me too, Pappy,” and handed the phone back to John. “I guess you gotta do what you gotta do, man, I can’t help you and you know it.”
John nodded and walked out of the room.
Donnie was asleep in the chair when Skids and another man that he didn’t recognize came in and led him into a different room. It was small, and had a toilet in the corner, a sleeping mat was on the floor, and a bare light bulb hung overhead. His leg irons were exchanged for a single ankle restraint, but the cuffs on his wrists remained.
Chapter Eight
Stevie was learning how to deal with having Lonnie around, and she could see why his wife had him on a short leash too. He was pretty much clueless about women stalking him through the grocery store, and the chickie babes in the bar almost begging him to come with them to a private party, even when one drunk on her ass woman stuck her hand down in his pocket with her address and phone number on a folded napkin.
“You don’t have to look at them like that, Stevie, I’m glad that my looks can make them happy. My wife says I’m like a picture in the museum, it belongs to someone else, so please admire, but don’t touch. Her name is Sharon, I love her, and she’ll never have cause to worry about my loyalty. She knows how some women react when I’m around. When we first met, I was a real horn dog. I thought she wasn’t pretty enough to be my woman.” He shook his head with a tiny smile on his perfect lips, and continued with his story.
“We were at the same club one night and I was too drunk to drive home. My dates had left because I was more obnoxious than usual that night, I guess I ran them off being the asshole like they called me.” He laughed outright, causing the people close to them to turn and stare at the sight of the gorgeous man whose laughter made them smile, wishing they knew what was so funny.
“Sharon tried to stop me from getting on my scoot, and I acted like a real jerk. Long story short, she followed me to make sure I got home in one piece. I ended up wrapping my bike around a yellow pine tree, and she kept me alive long enough for the medics to get there. Next thing I know, I’m awake, but no one knows it but me. I heard Sharon tell John and Gunner that I was too stubborn to die. She said I still hadn’t fucked my way through the southern states single party girls yet, and they should know I would crawl off my deathbed to get to the mirror. As long as a woman didn’t mind being used for five minutes and told to leave afterwards so I could crawl to the next hole to stick my dick in. I’m sure you get what I’m saying.
“I watched as my friends, and a woman that I wouldn’t have screwed, no matter how drunk or high I might be, laughed and made jokes about me. I can admit I was hurt and pissed that everyone thought I was so shallow, but right about the time I’d get a full head of steam on, someone would tell yet another story with me as the comic relief.” He grew quiet for a few minutes, remembering the humiliation of hearing his actions being hashed and rehashed.
The women that came to see him always commented on his wasting body, cried and verbally stated how repulsive he looked lying there. There had been only one woman that stayed with him through all of those months of hell. He was locked inside of his body and brain, his own personal Hell, with no way to communicate with the outside world. Without her voice telling him to get his lazy ass up and out of that bed, the sluts were wearing widow’s clothes and covering up their boobs when they came visiting, he would have gone insane.
He remembered hearing her cry herself to sleep night after night while sitting in a chair next to his bed, holding his hand and praying to God that he would wake up, “In one piece.” There was so much more to his story, but that was none of anybody’s business but his and Sharon’s.
“If they knew I fart and that my feet stink, or I cry like a five-year-old when Old Yeller dies at the end of the movie, I doubt they’d be as impressed. My lady has no reason to worry, and you don’t have to get up in arms on her behalf. It took me a while to grow up, but I know who holds my leash, and I’m not complaining.”
Stevie felt her eyes sting from hearing his story, and the declaration of his love and devotion to his wife. “Lonnie, that has to be one of the top five romantic things I believe I’ve ever heard a man say about his wife. You have a beautiful story and I bet she is a beautiful person. I’d like to meet her someday. Bring her around to the bar sometime, would you? She sounds like a woman I’d love to get to know.”
Later in the evening, after her performance, Lonnie asked her who she sang to with such emotion. “I almost lost my tough guy image there, lady. I’m betting our friend, John, has something to do with it, but yesterday was the first time I’ve seen the two of you together for more than you writing a check for repairs on the Jeep.
“He’s a good guy, you know. One you can count on to do something when he says he’ll do it.” He nudged her with his elbow and winked at her. “Come on, girlfriend, spill your guts, I told you my deal, tell me yours.”
It was her turn to laugh out loud. “If I knew exactly what was going on I would tell you. He makes me breathe funny, does that surprise you? I’ve been crushing on the bossy, bad boy forever it seems. Yesterday was the first time he gave me the time of day, but that was only after he bullied me into telling him what happened to me four nights ago.”
Her own words made her question John’s actions since then for the hundredth time. “I don’t know exactly what his deal is, and I know that sounds dumb, but he’s not exactly the kind of man that’s easy to read. If I let myself fall down the rabbit hole, and he decides that I’m no longer in danger, where do we go from there? Will he say, ‘See ya later, it’s been fun’ or stick around? I have no idea what’s going on, but I’ll let you know when I know, how’s that?” She held out her hand and they laughed as they shook hands.
She sent Leon home early, and he was not happy about it, but the place was quiet, and Lonnie could tend bar as good as the older man, so it made no sense to keep both of them there for another hour. She paid Leon by the night, not by the hour, she didn’t know what his damage was and didn’t bother to ask. Leon had been getting a little too friendly, always asking personal questions, and seemingly innocent questions about her brother. She’d shut his line of questioning down at least twice, by telling him that she never talked about her personal life with her employees. He tightened his lips and shrugged her rebuffs off each time, but she wondered if he had an ulterior motive for asking.
Since the night of her attack, she was getting paranoid, second guessing everything, and examining every person she dealt with beh
aviors. Now that she thought about it, the day she’d figured out Harry’s death was not an accident, was the day she began questioning the motives behind everyone’s actions or words.
Now, thinking about Leon and his pissy attitude was enough reason for her to lock the doors early. There were no patrons in the bar, so there was no reason to keep the music on and the lights blazing on the neon outside. Lonnie went about closing the bar as if he’d done the job for years instead of one night, and she asked him why he seemed to know where everything was.
He smiled sadly at her, “Stevie, Harry and I were running buddies before he bought this place, we used to be the big dicks, letting the chickies’ chase us down and have their way with us. I remember when he brought you to the area, and how he used to brag about his super smart little sister. I worked here until my accident, and once in a while I’d still fill in for Harry when he needed a break after I got back on my own two feet.” He looked away for a second, “I was kind of surprised to see that Leon is working for you. After the way Harry showed him the door, but well, not my business.” He set the clean draft glass in the line with the rest of them.
“Wait, what do…are you saying Leon wasn’t working for Harry when my brother died?” When he nodded, she narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. “That miserable son-of-a-bitch, I came to the bar three days after the accident and he was here trying to get his key to work in the backdoor. He told me he worked for Harry. He wanted to make certain everything was still okay here. He told me he needed to clean the fridge and pack up the booze and stuff since the place was closing.
