by Cat Porter
“The documents go back to over twelve years ago,” I said.
“How did you break this?” asked Watts, his attention fixed back on the figures marching down the screen.
“I’ve been keeping my eye on him since our big general convention in Atlanta, about ten years ago, back when the Mexicans started blockading and the Demon Seeds from the west were playing hardball. He didn’t seem too uptight about cash flow like the rest of us were. He’d put on a good show of brainstorming colorful ideas, but none of them amounted to anything, he’d dropped every single ball. I smelled distraction. Set a course for getting hold of the evidence, and I got it.
“In front of my whole club yesterday, he admitted it, declared it was all his. He was actually annoyed with me for finding out and threatening to put a stop to it. But what Reich never got about me is that I don’t threaten. I make shit happen. The question is, what are you all going to do about it?”
They stared at me, chewing on all my evidence like dogs with a single thick bone between them.
“I’m putting seventy-five per cent of these assets in National’s coffers,” I said.
Watts let out a gust of air, pressing his back into his chair. “Can’t beat that.”
“Twelve years is a damn long time,” I said. “All those years, none of you—and you’ve all been in office that long, re-elected over and over again—never noticed a thing? It was just business as usual? Trust Reich with the reigns, with making decisions. Trust him with all our worldly goods and possessions.”
Watts leaned his weight forward on the table, a ringed hand brushing over his long mustache. “He was always flush. Even when times were shit. I’d seen his wife driving around in a new car, taking trips. He always had a quick explanation for everything. Never a straight answer though, always a different story.”
My pulse picked up at the row of stiff faces around me.
“How could you not know?” I asked Taz. “Did you look the other way? Or were you on the take too? Temptation just too great. Did you get a cut of the slaves and the snuff films?” I gestured at the screen. I fed the thick anxiety and dread at all the possible outcomes that hovered over our table like the heavy odor of frying grease. I was the one doing the frying.
“I looked for you on here,” I continued. “Didn’t find you though, but I did find a recurring monthly fee. And plenty of miscellaneous expenses. Maybe you were one of those, huh, Taz? That vacation to Cancun last year? Pretty fancy. But you didn’t take your old lady or your kids or one of your local bitches. No. Maybe you had a girl chained to your side the whole time specially trained just for you?”
All eyes were on Taz.
Taz rolled his shoulders, twisting his neck, his mouth opened.
“Don’t you fucking lie to me. This is selling out,” I said. “A Flame does not sell out his brothers, does not undercut his brothers. Used to be a Flame was the finest there was. He stood for something. This? Crawling for pennies. It may be a mighty pile of pennies, but your allegiance, your loyalty went from the Flames of Hell to pennies? You’ve trashed what we stand for. Yeah, back in the day, that trade was good, easy money, but it ain’t us no more.”
“Listen, I—”
My fist slammed on the great wooden table. “What is this, huh? Right here, right now? You tell us.”
Taz glared at me. “Flames of Hell.”
“Yes. Who’s the national president?”
Taz’s eyes narrowed at me. “I am.”
“Yes, you are. Shouldn’t you have noticed what your own vice president was up to? You and Reich have been buds for years. Came up together. A well-oiled machine ruling the roost the past decade and a half.”
“Ah shit, man,” Lenox groaned.
Taz jolted in his chair. “You accusing me of—”
“Reich was always a resourceful thinker, an instigator. He produced all this fine tailor-made product by himself and maintained this network of contacts and delivery. Generated big bucks. He had Led as his gopher, yeah, but he had to have used your Ohio money laundering machine to help with the extra. I imagine there was always lots of cream left on the sides of that big milkshake glass.”
His back rigid, Taz planted his hands on the table. “Who the fuck do you think—”
I untucked my knife and thrust it into Taz’s left hand. The blade stuck there, pinning his hand to the table. He howled like a wild bear caught in a trap, his body shuddering and twisting.
Flint shot up from his chair. “What the fuck, man?”
“Finger!” Lenox yelled.
I pointed at the screen. “Look.”
“What is that?” Flint asked.
“Every investment that Reich made is signed over to either his old lady or Taz,” Watts said, reading the projected documents on the screen. “Shit. Shit.”
The men stared at Taz and looked away again. Taz only squirmed in his chair, blood streaming over his hand, on my table.
“Is that loyalty to your club? Is that the absolute heat of the Flame?” I asked.
Heads shook, hands running down grim faces. Flint kicked at his chair, grabbed it, and threw himself back in it.
“You need to sign this, Taz.” I shoved a document my lawyer had drawn up this morning. “Signs over all your claims to this money to several of our corporations. Here’s a pen.”
“Do it!” Watts yelled at him.
Betrayal is a vile thing among brothers.
Taz’s hands quaked as he signed the papers. Good thing he was a righty and not a lefty. Would’ve been messy.
“I’ll tell you what this is—unforgivable.” I sat back down in my chair. “It’s not just the money. I’ve been here on my patch of ground for years and years, defending it tooth and nail from all manner of jerk off—corporate, law enforcement, mob, Mexican, Latin American, other clubs. I’ve got the One-Eyed Jacks of the Dakotas and Colorado playing friendly ball, and further west of us, the Demon Seeds have finally cooled their shit.
“But I’ve got the Broken Blades next door playing chicken with us, and now, they’re aligning themselves with the Smoking Guns after I brought down their partnership with a crime organization from Denver. Do you think that’s a coincidence? There was a matchmaker for that union: Reich. Our National VP sicced our enemy on me, his brother, giving that enemy a free fucking pass on a vital web of business within our organization. Took us long, hard years to get our shit tight, and we did it. That’s one of the reasons the Flames are the envy of so many. We are tight. And Reich didn’t just talk up any Gun to start a rupture, no. He brought Scrib in.”
“Aw, fuck no,” muttered Flint.
“I’m taking this personally, and you should too. Who knows how long those two had been meeting up? Did Reich think I would let that happen? Do you?”
“No, man. No way,” said Lenox.
“Did he think that I would take that sitting down? Let it roll over me?” I asked.
“This ain’t right,” said Flint, shifting in his seat.
I eyed each and every one of them. “You know what you get with me. I don’t make pretty noises to get your attention, that’s Reich’s way. That was the man ruling alongside this President.”
Taz gaped at me.
I gestured at Catch. He came forward, his arms full. In the center of the table he made a pile of a Sig Sauer P320, a Ruger LC9, a Springfield XD, a Glock.
I liked variety on my menu.
“It’s up to you now, the last remaining national officers of the Flames of Hell.” I rubbed my hands together slowly. “Prove your loyalty to the Flame. To each other. I found the evidence, and I took care of Reich just as he was pulling his gun on us. He left debris behind him, though, and it needs to be cleaned up—it reeks. This club cannot be ruled by greedy lying bastards who will sell it out to line their own pockets. We’ve taken blood oaths to never allow that to happen. Our broth
erhood comes first. I’m not going to be Reich’s whore or Taz’s whore. Are you?”
The men shook their heads, their faces long, eyes cold and weary.
“There are rules in place. Rules that had been set for a reason by those who came before us, rules that deserve our respect. These rules need to be followed, not broken or bent by any member on a kick, ‘cause then we got bedlam. And that is not Flames of Hell. We are tight. We are clean in what we do and how we do it. By necessity, right, Taz? Adhering to that necessity is what keeps us whole and secure. That security has been put at risk because of Reich and Taz’s greed. ”
A rush of adrenaline washed through me. It was time for these fucks to prove their loyalty. Reich had dug a breach too wide and deep to be ignored or brushed over and had taken Taz with him.
Watts grabbed the handle of the Sig and stood up, his chair scraping along the floor, his right eye twitching as it did when he got anxious. “I’m ready.”
“Watts, please. Not like this...”
“You should’ve thought of that while you were counting your dough,” said Watts.
Lenox wrapped a hand around the Kimber, his chin raised, glaring at Taz. Flint leaned over and grabbed the Ruger. My pulse drummed in every vein, making my heart beat loudly, evenly. The clarity washed over me like cool rain on a sticky summer day.
I unstuck my knife from Taz’s hand, and he groaned loudly, his side slumping against the table. Catch moved forward and led Taz outside the room.
I loved a ritual, especially one of my own creation. Rites were necessary, making the ordinary special and un-ordinary. Furthermore, a ritual invoked a visceral understanding. And that emotional connection in turn served the continuity of who we were, which was crucial to our survival.
Outside, past the metal sheds, past hulks of rusted cars and bikes Flames had embedded in the earth to leave their mark on the property, in the clearing of the brush, we stopped.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” muttered Taz.
“It never is.” I flicked a hand at his colors.
Taz removed his cut and handed it to me. I picked at the seams of the president’s patch on the worn leather with my knife, ripping it off, handing it all to Catch.
The sweat beaded on Taz’s forehead in the late afternoon sun, his grayed hair lifting in the hot breeze. I shoved him back, and he stumbled.
I raised my gun, Watts and Lenox and Flint aiming theirs.
Boom. Crack. Crack. Clip.
Taz flew back, collapsing to the ground.
Lenox lit a cigarette, his hand shaking. Watts muttered to himself. Motionless, Flint stared off into the distance. I said nothing. After a moment they turned back to me. The somberness was heavy in their eyes, because they knew and they understood. I had just leveled the playing field, and we were all standing on it together, fully present, passionate in our commitment, and potent in that unity. Informed and fueled in our new reality.
I’d always been steeped in that fuel, and was just as flammable.
After a quick glass of whiskey, Lenox, Flint, and Watts took off. I remained outside in the field. The wind had picked up and made Taz’s shirt flutter on his still body on the flat ground. A heap of spent flesh in the dirt.
Four prospects huddled over him. One looked up at me, the others waiting behind him. I nodded, and they raised Taz’s bullet-riddled corpse.
My pulse thudded in my neck. The Broken Blades would get what was coming to them. And so would Scrib.
The heat of the sun’s glare burnished the dry brown brush with a coppery gold. I raised my face toward the sky, my skin warming. That huge open blue sky. Not one cloud visible today.
No, not today.
58
A wisp of cool air curled over my skin, and I hugged the pillow closer.
Still cold.
No, exposed.
Something heavy was in the air, and that something was hanging over me. I opened my eyes, my body tightening around the pillow.
Cedar, a hint of tobacco. Metal and cinnamon gum.
That something was him.
A large figure loomed in the dark. The thud of his clothing hitting the floor had my pulse jumping rope double time.
“Finger? What are you doing?”
“Getting in your bed.”
I sat up, pulling the sheet over my bare body. “You break into my house because you want a fuck?”
He chuckled softly, pulling back the sheet and climbing in next to me. The heat of his limbs, the wall of his torso pressing against me. His hair was wet. The fragrance of my shampoo tickled my nose.
“I repeat, you don’t know how to ask?”
An arm wrapped around me pulling me close. “Sunshine,” he whispered, the rough pad of his palm moving down my side to my hip. “Tonight I need to be here with you. You want to fuck, we’ll fuck. But either way, I’m here in your bed.” He was determined, but an underlying note of tenderness in that scratched husky voice of his made his words seem almost fragile.
My mouth dried, my pulse picked up. “Did something happen? Something bad?”
“Only good things.” His leg rubbed mine. “But it was a lot of different things all at once, and I’m waiting for the aftershock to hit.”
My hands pushed against his chest. “Are you in danger? What the—”
“Not sure yet.” His palm smoothed around my neck. “But it had to happen.”
“What exactly?”
His hand dug in my hair at the back of my head. “Today I blew my horn and the wall fell down.”
I swallowed hard at the purposeful tone in his voice, the tingles shooting over my scalp at his firm touch. “You’re quoting the Old Testament?”
“Yeah. I always liked that Bible story of Joshua’s destruction of Jericho. He blew his horn, the wall fell, and they burned the city with fire and ‘all that was therein.’” He let out another soft chuckle. “Jericho, the Flames—harlots all.”
“Joshua, Finger—whatever.”
“Hmm.” He took in a deep slow breath. “Everything’s changing for the better. I’m making sure of it.”
His erection rubbed against me. My skin heated, and I held my breath, suddenly unsure of what to do. Suddenly I wanted to run out the door. Suddenly I wanted to bury my face in his throat, wrap myself around him and hold on tight.
“You still deciding?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Let me stay.” His hand smoothed my hair down my back.
“That’s really nice, you asking when you’re already naked in my bed.”
“Let me hold you tonight, Lenore. Sleep next to you. I’m wired, but I’m exhausted.” His voice was low.
My hand opened over a pec, his heartbeat drumming under my palm. A simple gesture I’d done thousands of times in the past. Now it felt new, daring, exhilarating. My every sense was pinned on that touch. I stroked his firm flesh, and a low noise escaped his throat.
“You need me, is that it?” I asked.
His hand covered mine on his chest, keeping it still. “I’ve always needed you. Now more than ever.”
The quiet sincerity and genuine yearning in his voice, despite his fatigue, clutched at my heart. But I wasn’t going to let his blitzkrieg tactics get the best of me. I removed my hand and lifted myself away from his body. “You took a chance coming here. I might not have been alone. I still might not be. It’s early yet.”
His lips twitched. “Uh huh.”
“Not concerned?”
“No.” He inhaled deeply, a warm hand lazily sliding up my side brushing the curve of a breast. “Coconut and violet smells good on you. You still take a shower every night before bed?”
His memory was impressive. “Yes. Did you take a shower just now?”
“Yeah. I used the fig and vanilla, though.”
“I made t
hose shower gels, by the way.”
“You’re a talented woman.”
“You’re a man unafraid of fig and vanilla. I think I like you.”
“Hmm.” His eyes closed, his lips curling at the edges. His breathing deepened, his muscles relaxing underneath me.
Joshua slept.
I lay down once more, my body melding against his warm one. A heavy arm slid up my side.
I fell asleep, too.
I woke up early as usual, but this time Finger was in my bed, and my lungs crushed together at the sight of him, at the feel of his massive body next to mine. His side of the sheet was twisted in between his long, powerful legs. His hair unfettered over my pillows. Those pronounced shoulder and upper arm muscles of his glaring at me.
He was beautiful. Scarred, battle weary, yet always battle ready. The biblical warrior.
I extracted myself from him and quietly got out of bed.
Instead of heading to Craig’s early morning power cardio class as I did on an almost daily basis, I got dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a loose fitting top and headed for my living room to do a few yoga stretches. Otherwise both my brain and body would be cranky, and I didn’t want to be cranky, especially with Finger in my house. I needed to be clearheaded and composed.
Good luck.
His big leather jacket with his patches was flung on the top of my sofa. I picked it up. The heavy weight was familiar, the smell of that worn leather and faded metal a perfume of my past. I hung the jacket on the back of a dining chair.
When I was done stretching, I put away my mat, and made a big pot of coffee and prepared two small bowls with my granola, sunflower seeds, cinnamon, blueberries, grated apple, and a drizzle of honey. I had no idea if he’d like it or make a face and call it rabbit food, but what the hell. Should I make him a huge eggs, bacon, and pancakes type of he-man breakfast? Maybe he didn’t eat breakfast at all? Gah.
Movement from the bathroom made me blink. I took in a breath. “Will you relax?” I whispered to myself. Why did I feel like a girl on a first date with her longtime crush? I rolled my eyes at myself.
