Bad Beat

by Carolina Mac

  I raised the gun up and squeezed out two quick shots. Tiny retrieved the target himself and looked a little sheepish. “Didn’t think you were that good, Miss. I apologize for my rudeness.”

  “No need… my little secret,” I giggled as I walked back to the counter. “What else do you need, Jackson?”

  “A Tanto knife, two night scopes, cases and ammo for the rifles and two shoulder holsters.”

  “The knives are over here. I’ll unlock the case for y’all.” Tiny looked like he couldn’t keep from chuckling at the prospect of such a huge sale.

  Jackson leaned forward and peered through the glass. He pointed. “I like that Cold Steel Magnum II. Looks a lot like mine that I had to leave at home.”

  Tiny took the knife out for Jackson to hold in his hand and get the feel of it. He watched with interest as Jackson balanced the weapon in his hand, and tried it for size in the sheath in the side of his boot. He nodded. “Good balance. Won’t fit in my boot, but I like it a lot. Have a case for it?”

  Tiny nodded. “Yep, do so.”

  I put the camo hat that Jackson had been touching on his head. “Love that,” I said. “We’ll take that as well. How much do we owe you, Tiny?”

  “Have to figure this all out and write up the paperwork for the guns,” he spoke slowly. “You folks have ID?”

  “We have our passports.” I fished them out of my purse.

  “Have to take your thumbprints,” he said. “It’s the law.”

  After our thumbs were stained with ink and recorded for the State of Tennessee, we signed the paperwork for the guns and prepared to leave. Jackson made two trips to the Hummer while I settled up with Tiny, and left him a happy man.

  We found our way back to the I-40 and Jackson said, “Holy hell, Portia. That was one fuckin’ heap of money you spent in the gun shop.”

  “Nothing we didn’t need, baby. Could be totally worth every last penny.” I smiled and rubbed his leg. “I’d spend every cent I had to keep you safe.”

  He grinned. “I’m the one supposed to be keeping you safe. I love you, girl.” Jackson drove until we stopped for lunch on the other side of Nashville.

  Before we left town, we stopped at a golf store in a strip mall and bought a large molded case. “We need to have the rifles secured,” Jackson said, “to get them in and out of hotel rooms. I’m not leaving them in the truck.”

  We headed for Memphis.

  “Do you want to stop and tour Graceland?” I asked. “Are you an Elvis fan?”

  “More of a country music guy, Toby Keith, some of the older ones, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings. What about you?”

  “Springsteen, Bob Seger, they’re my top two.”

  “We should buy more CDs the next time we stop. I want to know everything there is to know about you.” He ran the back of his hand down my arm. “I don’t even know when your birthday is, baby.”

  “July sixteenth,” I said, and sighed.

  Jackson frowned. “Fuck, Annie. You were in your room all by yourself, and I didn’t even know it was your birthday. We have to make up for that in Vegas.”

  I inhaled a big breath and tried to forget about my wasted summer. “When’s yours?”

  “September thirtieth.”

  “Yippee. We’ll be in Vegas for that one.”

  “Let’s do them both the same day.”

  “It’s a date,” I grinned as I parked the Hummer under a tree at a rest area outside of Memphis.

  “Hope this rest stop is asshole free.” Jackson scowled.

  “Me too.” I took Angel for a long stroll in the doggie area and no one accosted me. “There are machines up there by the building. Want a cold Coke?”

  “I’ll get a couple when I use the bathroom. Be right back.”

  Under the closest tree, I filled Angel’s bowl with cold water and she lapped it up while we waited for Jackson. She was panting a lot more than normal and I wanted to get her back into the air conditioning. I jumped in the passenger seat, turned the key and cranked up the air.

  “Nice in here,” Jackson said handing me an ice cold can of soda. “Were you hot?”

  “Angel seemed to be panting more than she usually does.”

  “Dogs aren’t good in the heat and our girl is a little on the chunky side,” he said with a smirk. “When we stop tonight, we’ll make sure there’s air.” Jackson was almost behind the wheel when he received a call. He jumped out, closed the door and walked far enough away that I couldn’t hear his conversation. When he returned, he was tense and not in the mood for sharing.

  I don’t know how to act around Jackson when he’s in his gang boss mode. But I know one thing for sure—I hate it.

  Jackson drove through Wendy’s in Little Rock and ordered a triple cheeseburger to tide him over until dinner. He carried on to Fort Smith where he found a hotel that measured up to his security standards. We checked into the Hampton Inn, settled Angel with her dinner, and walked to a little Mexican restaurant down the street.

  “I’d kill for a beer,” I said after we were seated.

  “Fuck, yeah, me too. I’m about dying here,” Jackson said waving at a waitress. His earlier mood seemed to have passed. She came directly to our table, laid colorful menus in front of us, and hurried off to get our drinks.

  “We’re in Arkansas, sugar. Anything you want to see?”

  “I’d like to go see that old fort in the morning if we have time. I’m a cowboy at heart.”

  “Did I ever tell you, cowboys turn me on big time?” I grinned. “Of course, we’ll go see it.” The waitress returned with our beer and we ordered burritos with extra sour cream.

  “You could be practicing online if we had some kind of a computer or something portable,” I said. “My technical knowledge would fit on the head of a pin.”

  “Like an iPad?

  I cocked my empty head to one side. “Sure. Like that. Where do you get those?”

  “Wal-Mart or any place that sells electronics,” he said, “But they’re expensive.”

  “We’ll check the local phone book and find a store. If you practiced at night you’d be in top shape when you got to Vegas and ready to kick some butt.”

  “You keep me in shape, baby. I need stamina to deal with you on a daily, or should I say nightly basis.”

  “Talk dirty to me, sugar, and I’ll do you right here on this table,” I winked and undid another button on my shirt. I leaned forward and tilted my cleavage into Jackson’s sightline while I slid my hand under the table and rubbed the inside of his bare leg.

  He showed me the hint of a grin “Fuck. You’re making me hot.” He took a big drag on his beer. The waitress brought our burritos and Jackson ordered another round of Coors. “I’m glad we’re out of Canada for a while,” he said as he stared out the window into the street. “Easier to keep you safe.”

  I spit out the question I’d had in my mind for a long while. “Who in Canada wants to hurt me, Jackson?”

  He stood up glaring at me like it was none of my business, pulled money out of his pocket for the check, tossed the bills on the table and walked outside.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “HERE’S YOUR COFFEE, Portia. Hope I didn’t toast your bagel too much.” Jackson returned bearing food and brochures from the lobby. “Look at these pictures of the old fort.”

  At the little table in the corner of the room, I sipped my coffee and looked at the pamphlets. “I found an electronics store. We can stop by there on the way to the fort.”

  “Do you think you need to spend money on iPads?”

  “Are you careful with your money, Jackson? You seem to be concerned about how much I’m spending.”

  “Maybe comes from the fact that owing money to somebody in the club, usually doesn’t work out well in the long run,” he said with a frown.

  “Kind of a leftover reaction?” I asked.

  “Maybe, so.” More on-going than left-over.”

  “I have left over and on-going reactions myself. Li
ke an aversion to having the shit beat out of me on a regular basis.”

  “Oh, baby. I didn’t mean to get you riled up.” He came over and held me in his arms.

  “I’m not upset. I just want to enjoy every single minute of my life with you, and if that means spending a bit of money, then fuck it,” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “Let’s go before I have to throw you down on the bed and ravage you,” I whispered.

  “I’m getting used to it,” he said with a wink. “And I can take it.” He chuckled as he went out the door.

  Jackson chose two iPads after a long deliberation over brands and features and opinions garnered from more than one employee at the big box electronic store. He carefully stowed them in the back of the Hummer as if they were encrusted in gold.

  Our second stop of the morning was Fort Smith. Jackson surprised me with his enthusiasm for the guided tour. He hung on the costumed guide’s every word and was mesmerized by the history and the way of life that Fort Smith preserved. I took pictures of him standing on the parapets and he snapped enough shots of the fort and the soldiers to make a history book of his own.

  “I loved seeing where the soldiers slept and ate in the mess—and where they stood at their posts to defend the fort. Wish I’d been there,” Jackson said with a frown. “Always wished I’d been at the Alamo.”

  “That was a bit before your time, mister. And sadly, nobody survived the Alamo.”

  “Yeah, that was so sad.” Jackson appeared genuinely stressed.

  “I took some great pictures of you, sugar plum. You could be in a magazine, like GQ. But then I’d have to share you with the public, and all the girls would be drooling over you, and then one by one, I would have to kill them.”

  “You’re crazy, Annie.”

  “Just telling you the way it is, Mr.Traynor.”

  I closed my eyes while Jackson headed for Oklahoma. When he turned off the engine, I looked around to see where we were.

  “Late lunch,” Jackson said, “it’s two o’clock. Did you sleep well, baby?”

  “I did. Do you want out, Angel?” She was standing up in the back seat, ready to jump out the door of the truck. I gathered myself, checked my face in the visor mirror and released the hound. “Come on, girl,” I said with the leash in my hand. Before I could clip the leash on Angel’s collar she took off on the run with Jackson after her. They went twice around the restaurant before she ran straight back to me and sat down at my feet.

  I was giggling when Jackson caught up and he was barely breathing hard. “Boy, you have done a job on cutting back, haven’t you? I don’t think you could have run that marathon a week ago, without gasping for air.”

  “Three smokes today. Not too bad.”

  I rubbed his arm. “Excellent. You’re going to be dynamite at the poker tables.”

  “I hope I don’t let you down, Portia. You’re putting so much faith in me.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not what this is about. You don’t have anything to prove to me. Just to yourself. I will love you no matter what,” I said, kissing him and pressing him against the Hummer.

  Muscular arms wrapped around me and held me close. The smell of his hair and his cologne made me want him in the parking lot. “We better eat, before I flip into high gear.” I ran my hand down his zipper.

  “Jesus,” he said, “people are looking at us.”

  IT WAS AFTER three when the Hummer pointed west and we started the next leg of our journey. Jackson dealt with his daily crisis line and reported that Rusty had matters in hand, at least for the moment. To me, the number of phone calls and texts indicated some kind of activity in the club—more than the norm, but what did I know? Jackson kept me in the dark.

  Would Rusty call every couple of hours if things were going well?

  “Where to next?” Jackson asked, unfolding the map.

  “I think we’re heading for Texas. I saw a sign for Amarillo.”

  “Always wanted to go to Texas.” He grinned at me from the shotgun seat.

  “Well, you’re almost there, cowboy. Get the camera ready, in case you see anything interesting.”

  Jackson clicked pictures through the passenger window all across the Lone Star State. Mostly cows, oil rigs, ranches, cacti, one armadillo, a dead snake at the side of the road and a few wind turbines. We stopped once at a rest area for Angel, grabbed cold drinks from a vending machine, then continued over the hot, flat terrain.

  “Glad we have air,” said Jackson. “Texas is a hot son of a bitch.”

  Around seven forty-five, I pulled into a hotel on the outskirts of Amarillo. Angel had been whining for fifteen minutes. “Does this look okay?” I parked under the portico.

  “Looks fine to me—I’ll take Angel for a run while you get us registered.”

  I emerged from the office with our room keys in hand, drove the Hummer around the back to our ground floor room, and went to look for Jackson and Angel. The hotel property bordered a shallow ravine with a creek running through the bottom, and as I looked down the hill through the trees, I could see Jackson at the water’s edge letting Angel swim. I hollered down the room number and went to unpack.

  By the time they came up from the river, I had all our belongings in the room including the guns. I brought the boxes in containing the iPads and set them on the table in the corner. “Why don’t you get those computer things going so we can practice, and I’ll see if I can order a pizza from around here.”

  “I’m all over it,” said Jackson, flashing me a smile.

  I called up to the front desk, asked for the best local pizza delivery and put in an order. Jackson worked on getting our new electronics up and running and he was ready to rock when our pizza arrived. I fed Angel and we had the rest of the evening to ourselves—except for the six phone calls from Rusty.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JACKSON WOKE WITH a start and sat bolt upright when I entered the room. “Holy shit. What time is it?”

  “Don’t panic. You were dead to the world when I got up. I worked you pretty hard last night if I remember correctly and you could use a little extra consideration this morning.” I laid out the booty from the breakfast room on the corner table.

  “You do remember correctly,” he grinned, “but I wouldn’t exactly call it work.”

  “Come have some coffee with me.”

  “I’ll check the bikes, have a quick smoke and be right back.” He pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed his phone and went out the door. Angel whined after him.

  I spread out the map on the bed to see what states were next on our westward trek. We were about seventy miles out of New Mexico. Tears for George trickled down my cheeks as I shut myself in the bathroom. My mascara was still a mess as the door opened. I sucked in a breath and put on my best smile.

  Jackson shot me a look and took me in his arms. “What is it, baby?”

  “Nothing, I’m fine. Sometimes memories get the best of me.”

  “The boss?” he asked.

  I nodded. “As we got closer to New Mexico, I was trying not to let it bother me, but it has a little. George and I were going to winter down here and ride our bikes all around the southwest like gypsies. I’m just having a moment.”

  “You’re entitled. It’s only been a couple of months. Lord Jesus, I miss him as much as anybody. He took me in when I was a kid and was like a father to me. I could never have survived without him.” Jackson held me close as I dried my eyes.

  I fixed my face in the mirror, did a few minutes of deep breathing and tried for a fresh start. “Ready?” I smiled. “Nothing is going to ruin this trip. Not even me.”

  Jackson raised his eyebrows and cast a sideways glance at his phone.

  Shit, the Regulators might ruin it.

  Jackson loaded the Hummer while I gathered up Angel’s belongings, covered my red eyes with sunglasses and jumped in the passenger seat. “Shotgun,” I hollered.

  An hour later we crossed the state line into New Mexico. As the tempera
ture rose, the landscape became stark and desert-like. “I’m seeing a lot of Indian casinos along this route, and it’s a shame you couldn’t get some practice in. We can’t leave Angel in the car in the heat, so let’s look for one with hotel rooms.”

  A couple of hours later, Jackson said, “Look at that big mother. They have a hotel.”

  “Time for a poker break,” I said. “We need lunch anyway.”

  Jackson sat in the Hummer with the motor on and cool air blasting out while I checked out the room situation. The parking lot was crowded with dusty pick ups¸ so chances were good that the casino was full of locals trying to give their money away.

  “Can I help you, Miss?” A handsome dark-haired young native man in a hotel uniform asked from behind the desk.

  “Do you have any vacancies?” I asked. “I also need to know if you allow pets?”

  “We do have a vacancy, but it’s a suite. We don’t allow pets in our regular rooms.”

  “So you only allow pets with money? Is that what you’re telling me?” I laughed.

  “That’s about it,” he chuckled a little, showing me beautifully white teeth.

  “You’re in luck, young man. My pet has money—how much for the suite?”

  “Two-fifty,” he said biting his lower lip.

  “When my husband comes in here, let’s not mention the price,” I said winking.

  “I’ve got you covered. Here’s your key. Park around the west side, come in the side door and the elevator is right there on your left.”

  “Thanks,” I said, turning towards the door.

  I motioned for Jackson to follow me around the side of the building. I opened the hatch, grabbed my makeup bag and my suitcase and set them down beside him. He was leaning on the side of the Hummer smoking and texting. “I’ll walk Angel before we go upstairs and she’ll be good for a few hours,” I said. When I returned from the back of the property, we took the elevator to the fourth floor.

  “Holy hell, Portia, look at the size of this fuckin’ room, or should I say rooms. There are a living room and a separate bedroom. This can’t be one of their regular rooms.”

  “Not exactly regular, sugar. They only allow pets in the suites. A money grabbing rule if ever there was one.”