Switch (New World Series)

by Janelle Stalder

“Well, I’m going to take off,” Dinah said. “It was nice seeing you again, McKay.”

  He took a pull on his cigarette, narrowing his eyes at her. The tattoos covering the bottom half of his arm caught her attention for a second while he pinched the smoke between his thumb and forefinger. She wondered how far those tattoos went, and then shook that thought right out of her head. What did it matter? Clearly he wasn’t going to say anything, so she just turned and started across the street to where her bike was hidden.

  “How are you getting back to headquarters?” he asked, the word ‘headquarters’ dripping with disgust.

  She looked back to see him following her again. What was with this guy? He acted like she was the plague incarnate, and yet he wouldn’t leave her alone.

  “I’m driving,” she answered. She reached the spot where her bike was hidden and quickly pulled out her helmet from where she stashed it.

  “Holy shit,” he said with a low whistle. “That’s what you’re riding?”

  She nodded, watching him as he walked around the bike slowly.

  “You just got even hotter,” he said absently, running his hand along the bike. Her breathing stopped, and her face burned. Thankfully it was dark. He just said ‘even hotter’ as if to imply he thought she was hot to begin with. Why did she suddenly feel like squealing and jumping around like an idiot? Note to self, wait until you’re back in your room before doing any such thing, she thought.

  She just started putting on her helmet when he spoke. She froze. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  She stared at him, wide eyed. “Tomorrow night?” Her stomach rolled and she couldn’t understand why. Words also seemed to have fled from her brain, making speech impossible.

  “Yeah,” he said easily, looking up at her now. His eyes roamed her face, but his expression was neutral.

  “Uh, nothing I don’t think.”

  He nodded like he had expected that. “Meet me here tomorrow around ten.”

  “Why?”

  McKay flicked the butt on the ground and walked back across the street, not bothering to answer her question. She shoved her helmet on a little harder than she needed to, and straddled her bike. The sound of the engine purring was like music to her soul. Driving around on the bike was the only time she felt truly free. She gave the pub one last look before taking off down the street. McKay had already disappeared inside. If he thought she was going to show up tomorrow just because he said so, he was sorely mistaken.

  Who was she kidding? She was so going to be there.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Pete stood by the front door just long enough to hear her bike drive down the street. Danielle and her friend Raven were standing by the bar talking to two guys he saw around often, but didn`t know too well. He walked over and waited for them to notice.

  “McKay,” Danielle said sweetly, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder. She walked up, resting her hands on his chest as she batted her eyelashes up at him. He hated when she used that fake, high voice. It was like nails on a chalkboard. “I haven’t seen you in days,” she continued, pushing her bottom lip out in a pout. Ugh. How had he ever considered her attractive? Right now she was nothing but annoying.

  He took a step back so her hands fell away. “You wouldn’t happen to have said something to my new friend that just left, did you?”

  Her arms crossed over her chest, the fake pout now gone. “Did she say I did?”

  Well there was his answer. “No, she didn’t actually. I was just wondering.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder again. “Then no, I didn’t say a word. Why? What does it matter?”

  He stepped closer to her, watching as her eyes filled with excitement then quickly changed to fear when she read the anger in his own eyes. “Trust me when I say, for your own good, I wouldn’t be saying anything else to her. You got me?”

  She huffed, stomping her foot like a child. Seriously, what had he been thinking? “I thought you didn’t do relations –”

  He held up his hand, cutting her off. “This isn’t about me. You don’t say another word to her,” he pressed. “Got it?”

  She looked away sullenly saying, “Yeah, I got it.”

  He walked around her, heading back to the boys. The clock on the wall said it was one in the morning, which meant he had a couple of hours before he needed to go see Bridge. He always liked to make sure she got home safe, even if she didn’t know he was there.

  “You sure found yourself a prize,” Tommy Boy said the second Pete sat down.

  “Her name is Dinaaaah,” Seamus said, nudging Pete.

  “You guys are so lame,” Pete said, taking a sip of his drink.

  “Did you see the eyes on that girl?” Tommy Boy whistled. “What I wouldn’t do for a night along with that g–”

  “Enough,” Pete interrupted.

  Trent chuckled deeply. “I think Petey here has a bit of a crush.”

  “I know,” Garrett laughed, slapping the top of the table. “Did you see how stiff he was all night? It was like he was nervous. I’ve never seen him nervous around a girl.”

  Pete shook his head, taking a big swig of his beer this time. If they understood who she really was, they’d know why he had been a little stiff. The whole night he was partly waiting for her to do something nefarious, and partly obsessing over her nearness. It just about drove him nuts. The sound of her laughter was musical, and every time she did it at whatever her brother or Seamus said, he wanted to groan in frustration. Being around her was messing with his head, and then he’d gone and invited her out again tomorrow night. Masochist, he chided himself.

  “I think he actually likes this one,” Seamus teased.

  “Okay, okay, enough about Dinah. She’s just a girl, nothing more to it. And don’t be mentioning anything around the General. You all know how he is when it comes to newcomers,” Pete said.

  “He doesn’t just like her, he looooves her,” Garrett said, making kissy faces at him.

  “You’re all a bunch of idiots. I’m out.” He stood up, throwing on his jacket.

  “Where you off to?” Trent asked. His older brother didn’t like Pete out and about on his own.

  “Bridge’s and then home. Have a nice night, boys.” He threw some money on the table and walked out, lighting another cigarette as he made his way out of the bar.

  The streets were empty as he walked, his footsteps echoing in the night. He turned the corner, ducking just as a beer bottle flew past his head, shattering against the brick wall of the building beside him. He cursed, jumping out of the way of the glass shards. He looked around, spotting the culprits walking slowly toward him from the shadows across the street. Two of the three held steel bars in their hand. The middle sported brass knuckles on his right hand.

  “Well that got your attention,” the middle one sneered.

  “Mate, are you insane?” Pete replied, bracing his feet apart. This was just what he needed – a good fight to wind down the day.

  They walked closer, practically twitching with energy. Pete took in their plain clothing of jeans and sweaters and knew these weren’t soldiers. None of the New World army boys went out without their black outfits. This lot were from around here, which meant they would know who he was and who he’s involved with.

  “Do you know who you’re dealing with, mate?”

  “Oh yeah,” the middle one said, laughing. The other two goons joined in. “The big, bad Pete McKay. We know exactly who you are.”

  “Then you should know this is a really stupid idea,” Pete said calmly.

  “Considering there’s three of us, and only one of you, I’d say it’s not that stupid.”

  “Debatable.”

  They stopped ten feet away from him. “We also know that you met with Weapon X – alone. Seems the General ain’t too happy you neglected to tell him about that.”

  Pete covered his shock with a bland look. Jesus Christ, he thought. The General sent these idiots? Genuine anger burned through h
im. This was the second betrayal in a week from Douglas Hatcher, and he was not going to stand for it.

  “So he sent the three stooges to get me?” he asked drolly.

  “Watch it McKay,” the one on the left warned. “We’re supposed to just rough you up, but accidents can always happen.”

  “I’m terrified,” he replied dryly as he took off his jacket. “Why don’t we just get on with it then, yeah?”

  There was no warning before the three attacked. Pete blocked the one who had just spoken, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until he dropped the bar. Then he sent a punch right into the man’s gut. He fell, gasping for breath. Pete turned and ducked just as the other man swung his bar. He felt the air whizz by his ear. If that had hit him he would have been out cold. He brought his fist up into the guy’s jaw, followed by an elbow to his nose. A nasty crunching sounded on impact. Blood gushed from the guy’s face as he held both hands to it.

  Pete turned to the last guy, jumping back as his metal-covered knuckles breezed by his nose. He blocked another punch before landing one of his own. He went for another hook when hands gripped his arms from behind, pulling them painfully back. The nose bleeder held him as the other two righted themselves.

  “Your head always was too big, McKay,” brass knuckles spat.

  “I’ve been told I’m exceptionally proportioned,” Pete replied with a wink.

  A blow hit him right in the gut, air expelling from his body. Bloody nose kept him upright as more blows hit him, one right on the left side of his face. He could feel the skin break beneath the brass knuckles. The two guys switched so the other one could get in his shots. Pete braced for it, but before he could attack there were hollers from behind them, and the pounding of running feet. Pete knew those shouts well.

  Trent came into view first, like a raging bull plowing toward brass knuckles. Garrett came next, fists swinging. Seamus pulled bloody nose from Pete, freeing him. This is what Pete loved most. The high of a fight. The adrenaline pumping through his veins. The sickening feeling of flesh being pummelled under his bones, empowering him in some volatile way. His father always said Pete enjoyed fighting too much. Apparently he had an ‘anger problem’. They’d laugh about it, because every man in their family knew they were all the same. His father was just as likely to start slamming his fist into another’s face as Pete, Trent or Garrett were. That’s what it was to be a McKay. You didn’t take shit from anyone, and you especially didn’t let one of your own get beaten up without stepping in to help.

  Pete took a moment to refocus before joining in the fray. Somehow Garrett had gotten hold of the brass knuckles, and was giving the former owner his due. If he didn’t stop, the guy wouldn’t be walking away from this. Pete grabbed his brother pulling him back.

  “Enough,” he gritted. “Enough!” he called louder to the others. The three men scampered away, their movements stiff. He looked around at his boys proudly. “Good of you to make it.”

  “Should have known you couldn’t go five minutes without getting into trouble,” Trent said, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the sidewalk.

  “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” Pete said cheekily.

  “Any idea who those wankers were?” Seamus asked.

  “Apparently the General sent them.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Trent said in disbelief.

  “I wish I was,” Pete replied, running a hand down his face. He walked over to the curb and sat down. This was not going to fly. The General might be running things, but everyone knew Pete pulled more than his weight when it came to the rebellion. The guys looked up to him and respected him. The General hardly had direct contact with anyone outside of the council and main inner circle. He had always been a bit of a snob. It was Pete who got the boys ramped up and kept them organized. The fact that Douglas Hatcher had the nerve to send three morons out to try and rough Pete up would have been laughable if it weren’t such a bloody piss off.

  “We should go see Michael,” Trent said. Pete nodded. He knew that was the most reasonable thing to do at this point, but the dark place inside him that loved a good fight was just itching to go find the General and show him why no one messes with a McKay.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Pete,” Trent said, standing in front of him. “I want to go beat that asshole myself, but he’s the General. There are consequences that we don’t want to deal with. Michael will know what to do. He’s the closest with the General. He’ll know how to handle this.”

  “Yeah,” Garrett laughed. “If he doesn’t beat the General himself first.”

  “Trent’s right,” Seamus agreed. “We can’t retaliate, McKay. We need to do the smart thing for once. Not that I’m not all for a good fight, but even I can see how stupid this would be. And that’s saying something.”

  Pete looked up at his family and nodded. “I know you’re right. But I swear to God, that arse better watch it. That’s twice now he’s pissed me off. I don’t give people very many chances before I bloody well show them what I’m capable of.”

  “Yeah, yeah, we all know how big and bad you are, McKay,” Seamus laughed, reaching out a hand to help him out. “Keep the ego in check for a while longer though, yeah? Let’s go see good ol’ Mickey.”

  “What in the name of Mary happened to you lot?”

  Pete looked into the lined face of the one person who could instantly put him at ease. Michael stepped back, letting them all file into the small front room of his cottage. The fire was blazing like always, lending a scent of burning lumber to the room. Pete loved that smell. A kettle was whistling from the kitchen, and an open book lay on its face on his chair where Michael must have been sitting. Nothing ever changed here. That was probably why he loved it so much. The whole world did nothing but change constantly. The only thing you could do was try and keep up, adapting to whatever shit the universe decided to throw at you. But here, in this tiny cottage outside the city, time seemed to stand still. Nothing outside that door could touch it.

  “We ran into a little of trouble,” Pete said.

  “More like the trouble ran into us,” Seamus corrected, sitting down on the sofa beside the fire. Trent disappeared into the kitchen to make the tea.

  Michael snorted. “Ran into you, my arse. What have you done now?”

  “Geez, Mickey,” Seamus said, affronted. “Where’s the faith?”

  “In the Lord above, boy,” Michael replied. “Not in a group of hooligans like yourselves.”

  “May I remind you, da,” Garrett spoke for the first time since they arrived, “that you’re the one who raised us.”

  “Ack, not that one,” he nodded at Seamus.

  “Pretty much,” Pete said, tired. He sank into one of the large chairs, stretching out his legs. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but sleep was sounding real good right about now. Coming down off the adrenaline high of a fight always wore him right out.

  “Michael,” Trent called from the kitchen doorway, “where’s your sugar?”

  “Top cupboard over the stove, on your left,” he answered, moving his book to take a seat. “And would it kill you to call me dad?”

  “Nope,” Trent called back. Pete couldn’t remember the last time his older brother had called their da anything but his first name. He wasn’t sure if it was just Trent’s way of asserting that he was older and more mature, but by now Pete was used to it. He’d even gotten around to calling him the same, although now and again he’d actually call him da.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened here?”

  “The General sent three guys to…have some words with me,” Pete explained, staring up at the ceiling.

  “The General?” his father sputtered. “Impossible.”

  Something landed on Pete’s stomach. He looked down at the package of frozen vegetables Trent had just plopped down. “It’s all he has,” he said to Pete before turning to answer their father. “And it’s definitely possible considering we just had to save his ass from looking even wors
e than he does now.”

  “Oh he’ll still look worse than he does now,” Garrett said. “Wait until the morning.” He smirked. Pete sighed, placing the frozen bag gingerly over his left eye.

  “Why?” Michael asked, confused. “You’re his second.”

  “Roman Adamson and Weapon X arrived at our meeting last night,” Pete told him.

  “I know, I heard.” Of course he did, thought Pete. His father always knew things faster than anyone else he knew. His father was taking more of a backseat approach to the rebellion, only offering his advice now and again. For the most part he stayed out of any of the major action. After their mother ran off it was rare to even see him out of the house.

  “Well, Weapon X brought me into the washroom to have a private chat, and I neglected to tell him about it. Seems he didn’t appreciate that.”

  He looked over with his one good eye to find his father watching him closely. He wasn’t judging Pete at all, he’d never do that, but he was trying to figure out what he was missing. His father was quick. Probably the smartest guy Pete knew. If anyone were to see that there was something Pete wasn’t saying, it would be his da. But Pete also knew there was no way he would say anything, at least not in front of the others. At some point when they were alone, Pete was sure his da would get it out of him. They stared at each other for a moment before his father sat back a bit. Pete could see that he had decided there was definitely more, but Pete wouldn’t be elaborating.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” was all he asked.

  Pete shrugged, looking back up at the ceiling. God he was exhausted. “Honestly, I just forgot,” he admitted, only half lying. He did in fact forget about it during his meeting with Douglas, considering he was more pissed at being left out of the loop. But there was also the fact that he didn’t want anyone finding out Weapon X was Dinah. Why? He really didn’t know. Whenever he tried to really dissect it, he stopped himself, unable to face whatever truth was there. It was probably the same thing that had made him ask her out tomorrow night.

  “I’ll have a talk with him,” Michael said, with a note of finality. That was his way of saying none of them were to retaliate. The senior McKay had taken over, and that meant they were to step back.