by Naomi West
“What exactly do you think I did to her?” he demanded.
Leonard’s grin broadened. “Oh, I don’t think you did anything to her.”
“Then what—”
Leonard cleared his throat. Gave his pistol a spin around his finger and held it back up to Pistol’s chest. “Jax, I’m going to tell you and your friends how things are going to be from here on out. I’d like you to listen very carefully.”
“I don’t take orders from assholes.”
“Actually, I think you will. I think you’re going to do exactly what I say. Otherwise you’ll all be exterminated.”
Exterminated. This guy had seen way to fucking many James Bond movies. Pistol’s blood heated. “Here’s another idea. You can fuck off.”
Leonard signaled to the henchmen behind Pistol.
Pistol heard the sickening sound of a fist meeting flesh, and a grunt from Deion.
Pistol whirled to see Deion’s nose dripping blood. One of the henchmen raised his gun and brought the butt of it down on Deion’s head. Deion slumped, spitting blood.
“Jesus Christ!” Pistol snapped, turning back to Leonard. Okay, he was sweating a little now. “What the fuck do you want?”
“First,” Leonard said calmly, handing Pistol a phone. “I’d like you to call your president.”
Pistol glared at him, “The fuck do you mean, my president?”
He heard Deion take another blow. Then another.
Pistol couldn’t watch. Couldn’t look at his brother in pain. During their first raid of a minor drug cache downtown, years before, Pistol had gotten himself in a bad situation. The Blackened Souls hadn’t known there was someone guarding the cache, and when the guard had shown himself — all six foot seven inches of himself — Pistol had gotten into a pissing contest with the guy, which had resulted in him being beaten half senseless. Deion had come charging in like some fuck-ugly, out of shape superhero and bashed the hell out of the guys who’d worked Pistol over.
Pistol couldn’t let Deion get hurt now.
“Okay. Okay. What the fuck do you want him for? Why not just settle this you and me?”The old-fashioned way. No guns. Just fists. I’ll punch your fucking stomach up into your throat.
Leonard gave a thin smile. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Now make that call. I don’t have all night.”
Pistol took the phone. He wanted to hurl it to the ground and stomp on it until it was nothing. “I don’t know his number.” He knew he needed to quit getting in this guy’s face, for Deion’s sake, but he couldn’t help himself.
Leonard raised a brow.
“I’m serious,” Pistol growled. “He’s in my contacts. If you let me getmyphone out, I’ll call him. I don’t have people’s numbers memorized.” Except hedid know Kong’s. He’d known it since he was seventeen. He had once dialed it from a payphone outside of San Antonio, shaking with adrenaline and fear, his bloody knuckles gripping the receiver tight.
A horrible crunch and a groan behind him. Fuck. “Okay,” he snatched the phone from Leonard. “Look, I’m dialing. What the hell am I supposed to say?”
“Tell him to come to this spot, alone and unarmed. If he disobeys those instructions, things will go very badly for your entire club.”
“He won’t recognize this number. What if he doesn’t pick up?”
“Oh, I think he’ll recognize it.”
That slugged cold fear into Pistol’s gut. The phone rang once, twice. He could hear Deion spitting blood behind him.
Kong answered. “What?”
“Pedro? It’s me.”
“Pistol. What the fuck?” Kong sounded instantly alert.
“I need you to come out here. To the drop spot. Alone, and—” He met Leonard’s eye, giving him another steely glare “—and unarmed.”
A second’s silence.
“I’ll be right there.” Kong hung up.
So Kongwasn’t surprised to get this call. What the fuck?
This made no sense. What was Leonard Smith doing here? Why would Kong recognize that number? What the hell did Leonard plan to do once Kong arrived? Line the Blackened Souls up to face the firing squad?
He heard harsh breathing to his right and glanced to the side. Mica was starting to lose it. He was paler than usual in the moonlight, and looked like he was about to hurl.
“It’s okay, kid,” he said gruffly, hoping he wouldn’t get shot for saying it.
He met the gazes of each of Leonard’s henchmen in turn. The Mexicans didn’t say a word. The duffel bags of cocaine lay at their feet.
They all waited.
###
At first it was just a faint purr in the distance. Then, the sound of Kong’s KTM 1290 grew louder and louder, until Pistol could see it through the moonlight, kicking up a spray of desert sand. He didn’t know whether to feel relief or dread. Some part of him — that dumbass, seventeen-year-old part of him, hoped Kong could fix this somehow.
The twenty-five-year-old part of him knew something damned shady was going on.
Ride together, die together. Kong had come alone, even knowing this might be a mass execution.
Unless Kong knew itwasn’t going to be an execution.
Kong dismounted, looking intimidating in his thick leather jacket. He wore a fierce scowl, and his eyes glinted as he surveyed the scene. “Leonard,” he said, turning his focus on the white man. “What’s going on here?”
Pistol’s stomach plummeted. It sounded as if Kongknew Leonard. Had communicated with him before.
“Ah, Pedro,” Leonard Smith said mildly. “Glad you could join us. I was just having a chat with your boys here.”
“I see that.” There was tension in his tone.
Leonard stepped forward, his gaze on Kong but his pistol still trained on Pistol. “I have a set of rules I’d like to convey.”
“We were going to work out a deal, Leonard,” Pedro said harshly. “You can stop with the dramatics.”
“But it’s so much more fun this way. AndI am going to set the terms of this deal, Pedro. Something you seemed to have trouble understanding when we spoke the other day.”
Jesus. Pistol looked back and forth between the two men. A deal? Kong had actually been trying to cut a deal with this psychopath?
“So here’s the plan.” Leonard glanced around at the assembled Souls. “From now on, I’ll be controlling business in this area.”
Ford sputtered something, but the henchman nearest to him raised his gun.
“The Blackened Souls are certainly welcome to lend theirservice for a small cut of the profits. But any unauthorized transactions, any failure to comply with these terms, and I’ll be forced to eliminate all of you.”
Pistol felt rage snake through him.Keep your temper. Don’t let your brothers get hurt.
“You think we’re gonna bow down quietly?” Ford demanded. “You’ve just declared war, asshole.”
“Quiet!” Kong barked. The Blackened Souls fell silent. The Mexicans shifted uncomfortably.
Leonard turned to Pistol. “And you, Jax.” His closed lips curled into another disconcerting smile. “You’re an integral part of my plan.”
This guy seriously thought he was a supervillain or something. “Drooling all over myself here,” Pistol said. “Can’t wait to hear this.
Leonard cocked a brow. “Tell me … did you enjoy talking to my daughter tonight?”
“Sure,” he said with a bravado he didn’t feel. “Nice girl.”
“She’s beautiful. Wouldn’t you agree?”
What the fuck? Did this guy have a hard-on for his own daughter or something?
Leonard cocked the pistol. “Jax?”
She’s the most beautiful goddamn woman I’ve ever seen. But I’m not gonna stand here and dance for you all night.
More fists meeting flesh. Deion made a few noises of pain, then went silent as the beating continued.
“She’s beautiful,” Pistol ground out.
The words seemed to set something free inside
him. Katrin. God, Katrin. That thick, dark hair, those wide, expressive eyes that held a deep sadness. Lips you could kiss all night, a body any man would die to touch. That sadness somewhere deep inside her, a sadness Pistol recognized, even if he was afraid to get too close to it.
Leonard nodded. “She’s a very sweet girl. Even-tempered. Obedient. Mostly quite intelligent.” He said it all breezily, as though he were describing a horse to a potential buyer. “But she’s got a rebellious streak too. She’s got … spirit. Really, Jax, in spite of your many vices, I think you and she would be a good match.”
“What are you talking about?”
Leonard twirled the pistol again. His grin returned. All he needed was a fuckin’ mustache he could twirl. “Mr. Wilson,” he said, with supreme satisfaction. “You’re going to marry my daughter.”
Chapter Seven
Katrin’s heart continued to pound so hard it drowned out every sound in the room. What the hell was her father doing with assault rifles? With fucking rolls of cash stuffed inside peppershakers? She searched the bin again to see if it offered any further clues. Nothing but the weapons and the money.
She forced herself to rise, to take a step back. She kicked over one of the penguins. The room felt small and airless, and she struggled to breathe.
Her father had never expressed any particular interest in guns before. He had a small handgun and a permit to carry it, and he’d kept it on him when he was walking around Cincinnati late at night. Kept it behind the counter at his shop. But these were military-level weapons. And that amount of cash — you didn’t get it running a general goods store.
My father’s a … a…
She couldn’t let herself think it.
There had to be an explanation. She’d just wait until he got home, and then confront him about it.
But if he was a criminal … if he were someone she didn’t actually know at all, would he hurt her, if he learned she’d discovered his secret?
It was hard to imagine. He loved her. An unconditional, almost obsessive love. If she asked for the truth, he’d tell her. And she’d…
She’d stand by him. Of course she would. He was her father. The only parent she had left.
But what if he was the kind of man who hurt people? Killed people?
She closed her eyes, calling on memories of her mother.
What do I do?
Who is he?
Sometimes she swore she could feel her mother’s presence in the room, speaking to her, guiding her. There was nothing now.
Did you know?
She flashed back to the last time she’d spoken to her mother.“Honey, there’s something…”
And Katrin had waited.
“Never mind.”
She couldn’t stay here now. She had to talk to her father at once. She texted him.Are you at the store?
What had her mom been trying to tell her.
She waited a few minutes, staring at her screen, willing him to text back. No answer.
Dammit.
She went to the garage and got in her Ford. Pulled out of the driveway a little faster than necessary, and sped off toward the general store.
###
Katrin pulled into the parking lot of Pete’s Goods, out of breath and still shaking. The store was closed — it’s Opening Soon sign hung proudly across the front of the building. A light was on, and someone was moving inside. But her father’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight. She shut off the car and hurried toward the door, her heels clacking on the pavement.
Rex was in there. What the hell? Wasn’t he supposed to still be tending bar at Hammered & Nailed? She knocked on the glass. Rex spotted her, smiled, and came over to let her in.
“Katrin. What’s up?”
“Do you have any idea where my father is?” she asked.
Rex’s brow furrowed with concern. “Something wrong?”
“I just need to talk to him. I thought maybe he was here.”
Rex studied her carefully. “He’s out on a delivery. He’ll be back soon.”
A delivery? At this time of night? What kind of delivery?
“He’s not answering my texts or calls,” she said pointedly.
Rex’s eyes flicked. He was nervous.
Shit. Shit shit shit. What had she gotten herself into?
She could play dumb. People always assumed pretty girls weren’t too bright. And she could find out what Rex knew.
She softened her voice, widened her eyes. “He’s … I think he might be in some kind of trouble.”
She didn’t miss Rex’s slight frown. “Why do you say that?”
How much to reveal? She gave her voice a little quaver, for good measure. “I found some things … I think he might be caught up with some bad people.”
Rex’s jaw twitched. Whatever her father was involved in, Rex was at least peripherally aware of it, if not involved outright. She was sure. “What kinds of things?”
“I can’t go into detail. But I need to talk to him. If you know where he is, then please, Rex, tell me.”
“I can call him,” Rex said finally. “He might be more likely to answer if he thinks there’s an emergency with the store.”
More likely than if he thinks there’s an emergency with his daughter?Katrin was still half numb. Whowas this man they were talking about? It couldn’t be the same man posing with Goofy in that Disney World photo. The same man who told her not to ride a motorcycle because it was too dangerous.
Rex went in the back room to make the call. So he didn’t trust Katrin to hear what he might say to her dad. That told her a great deal. She looked around. Pete’s Goods was a small, unassuming shop, only a little larger than a gas station store. It sold a small selection of hardware, toiletries, and food essentials. Once it officially opened, her dad said he planned to partner with a local bakery to sell a few baked goods.
He’s my father,she reminded herself, despite the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.How can the man who’s treated this store like a labor of love, who wants to sell Bundt cakes, for Christ’s sake, be … bad?
There was no proof he was.
Except that Rex is back there having a private call with him. Except that I found an AK-47 in one of his moving bins.
She could run. Leave the store right now, and go … where, exactly?
She had to see this through. Had to learn the truth.
Keeping an eye on the door to the back room, she crept behind the counter. In the store her dad had run in Ohio, he’d always kept that handgun behind the counter, on a shelf under the register. Hopefully he kept it here too. She didn’t trust Rex, didn’t trust anyone at the moment.
She was feeling around under the register when Rex emerged from the back room. He took one look at her, and his face went dark.
“What are you doing?”
She straightened, struggling to remain calm. “I could ask the same of you.”
Rex rubbed his balding head. Smirked.
Shit.
“Where’s my father?” she asked coldly.
“Sorry, honey.” Rex grinned. “He’s busy.”
“With what?” She didn’t like the way Rex was looking at her. She wanted to demand to know about the guns, the money, wanted to order him to put her on the phone with her father.
To her horror, Rex lifted his shirt slightly, revealing the butt of a revolver. He let his shirt drop down, the gesture casual, as if it wasn’t even intentional. But of course it had been.
“Hang tight, Katrin.” He pulled up a folding plastic chair and motioned to it. “Why don’t you have a seat right here? Your daddy will be back soon. And he’s got plans for you.”
Chapter Eight
“Marry her?” Pistol fairly spat the words. “The hell are you talking about?”
“You’re a bit slow, I’m afraid, aren’t you?” Leonard’s eyes glinted. “Marry her. In a church. Before God and all your little friends. Marry her, and then give me a grandchild.”
Pistol wanted to burst
out laughing. This was the craziest thing he’d ever fucking heard. He was pretty sure Leonard was just doing it to humiliate him — train the gun on him, make him say he’d marry Katrin, and then laugh at him for taking the plan seriously. Because, crazy bullshit aside, what father would let his daughter marry someone she’d barely met? Let alone demand that the guy she’d barely met get her pregnant?
