by Xavier Neal
“I owe her that.”
“You don't.”
“I do.”
Trying to hold back my temper I snip, “Oh yeah? Why?”
“Because the drug deal Uncle D was caught in the middle of, the one that took his fucking life, when he got killed, was my fault too!”
“What...”
“I made money in the shop, but it never felt like enough. I always felt I should be doing more to help, so, I got mixed up in another high price delivery. It was supposed to be a one time thing. Easy pay out. I had done a couple in the past and they had worked. It would've been enough to at least worry less about keeping my little brothers taken care of. I was on my way out the door when Uncle D caught me. He'd only been out of jail for a week. Told me I was too young to be throwing my life away. That he would make it right.”
Silence falls between us briefly. The sound of a vibrating phone interjects before I can say anything.
Madden coldly states, “I'm responsible for her losing her entire family. She deserves to hate me forever.” He pulls out his phone and answers, “Speak.”
He has to know he's wrong right? This is just survivor's guilt at its finest! Madden didn't pull the trigger. He didn't tamper with Ben's car. He didn't wish the deer to walk across the road when it did. Circumstances. Maybe, Uncle D might've lived if he would've let Madden go in his place, but then Madden might be dead. There's no use or help in playing the dangerous roulette 'what if' game. All it does is hurt the player no matter the situation.
Abruptly he ends the call. “I need to get you home.”
“But-”
“No buts. I have somewhere to be.”
“You always have somewhere to fucking be,” I snap. “Where is it this time?”
He shakes his head as he pulls out his wallet. “Not now. We can't have this talk now.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Then when?”
“Knox-”
“When is the time you actually trust me instead of just pretending?”
His fist bangs the table. In a low growl he says, “I just told you one of the biggest monsters that eats me alive every day of my life. Knowing I was responsible for my Uncle's death, my unborn cousin’s, my only other cousin's, is one of the many reasons when I close my eyes at night I beg that I don't wake up in an attempt to even the fucked up scoreboard. You are the only person besides myself who has any inkling of the level of self-loathing I go through. How can you fucking imply I'm pretending to trust you after that?”
Point Madden. Hey, don't agree with him. Don't be snarky either!
Quietly I whisper, “I'm sorry. I just...you keep disappearing without so much more than a Terminator goodbye. Let me be by your side with whatever this is.”
To my surprise, Madden lifts my hand and places a gentle kiss on the back. “I need to do this one alone. But if it helps...whether you're physically there or not, you're always by my side.”
A sweet sigh falls from me.
Oh shit....that was a total girly moment for me, wasn't it? Ugh. If you ever tell anyone about it you will be on my list. Trust me. You don't wanna be on that thing.
Madden
Leaned against the wall on the roof of the parking garage, I try to steady the violent breaths escaping me.
Oh of all the piece of shit, worthless fucking scum in the entire world, this fucker is the one responsible for Ben's death. I don't fucking care who his father used to be. It won't change one thing that's about to happen.
Right on schedule Tyler Meyer drunkenly stumbles around the corner. His car, which is where my foot is propped, is the only thing clearly in his line of vision.
I almost wish he wasn't drunk. It's gonna take the fun out of fucking him up. Well, not all the fun.
Suddenly it hits him that he's not alone. On a grunt he sneers, “Another fucking McCoy. Fuck. How many of you are there? Didn't your parents get the memo to stop fucking after a certain age?”
The insult forces my foot to break his headlight with one blow.
“Hey! Asshole! That's my car!”
“That's the least of your fucking worries.”
“Worries?” He hiccups. “Do I look worried to you?”
“You should.”
“My father is the mayor-”
“Was,” I correct. “Until the Commissioner grew a pair and helped get that dick thrown out of office.”
He was crooked as they come. He knew the sort of shit his son did and used the law enforcement like his own maid service for it. The only one who didn't let it fly is the same man who is hunting The Devil just like me. We hardly ever sit on the same side of an issue, but somehow manage to keep having the same goal at the end of it.
“Hey!” Tyler drunkenly points at me. “That man is a dick!”
“Why?” I kick the front of his piece of shit BMW once more. “Because he didn't bend over to take it up the ass for your old man?”
“At least my old man's still alive, McCoy.”
His teeth are going to be the first thing to go.
After another heavy blow to his vehicle, I move towards him. “And because of you my baby cousin is not.”
Trepidation floods his eyes. “I...uh...I didn't have anything to do with that.”
Grabbing him one handed by the front of his shirt I throw him against the hood of his car. “You picked the wrong motherfucker to lie to.”
“I...I didn't!” Tyler exclaims seconds before my fist breaks his nose with one hit. Groaning through the pain he begs, “Please. Please don't fucking hit me again!”
I ignore his pussy pleas and swing again for his face each blow, bobbing his head around like a broken child's toy. “You fucked with the wrong family.”
Tyler's blood begins to smear across my knuckles so I drop him.
I plan to drag this out. Sit tight.
He coughs out a bit of blood. “He fucked with the wrong family! He should've never been at her house!”
My head tilts to the side. “It was your girlfriend he was fucking?”
“Yeah!” Tyler wipes away his leaking mouth. “It wasn't enough your punk bitch baby brother was fucking the girl I wanted to be fucking, your piece of trash cousin actually had the balls to bone my girlfriend? It wasn't some fucking accident! He hunted her down and fucked her out of spite! So yeah! I fucked with his car! Fuck him and fuck you!”
My knee lands underneath his chin, which knocks him over. Grabbing his arm I drag him away from his car to the middle of the isle letting the rage that's been simmering for months escape. Mindlessly, I wail at him with everything I have. Kicks to his ribs. Stomps on his back and chest. Yanking him up I deliver multiple strikes that drop him back to his knees, allowing me to jerk him back up just to watch him fall again. The tumultuous anger that at some point crossed the border into obsession, reaches my grip as I squeeze his neck.
Did I fail to mention I have every intention on killing him and throwing his body over the edge? Hm. Forgive me.
The limp loser gasps for air.
He looks good in blue doesn't he?
“You don't deserve to live,” I coldly state.
Seeing the life drain from his eyes finally instills a sliver of absolution. Unfortunately, it's short lived. A bullet barely grazes my bicep forcing me to let go. Tyler lifelessly falls to the ground. The sight of his chest still rising and falling indicates someone ruined my original plan.
Backup plan is leaving him for dead. Chances of him living through that ass beating are slim.
Taking cover as another bullet pings the car I've managed to slip behind, I let out a low growl in pain.
It's just a fucking graze. I'll be fine.
The shots increase in number and sound. I remove the gun I brought with me from my ankle holster.
Always packing. One on me. Several in my car.
Quietly I lower my body to the ground, a pair of black boots inching past Tyler's body with another set closely behind. Firing off two shots, I nail the second gun man in
the calf, which stumbles him to the concrete. As soon as he's there, I fire another round. The bullet pierces his skull moments before his partner lands a shot over the car into my shoulder.
Fuck! That one hurt.
Pushing past the pain, I drag my body around the back side of the vehicle. Tempted to groan again I bite my tongue. While the gun man who fired at me is creeping around closer to my previous position I spot two more shooters coming to his aid. With all three enemies pin pointed I prepare myself for the best chance I have at making it out of this alive. Like the predictable dick for brains they are, they stagger their movements allowing just enough time for me to nail the first one with two shots to the chest before repeating the action on his partner. Now with only the bastard who shot me left I hover low as I maneuver around the parked cars doing my best to head for the stairs.
“The Devil needs you dead McCoy,” his voice quietly calls to me. “You're bad for business.”
I don't give away my location. I know it's what he wants.
This isn't my first showdown and it won't be my fucking last.
Crouching behind a truck I grit my teeth in agony. The severe pain from the gun shot is beginning to spread. Once more, I grip my weapon tightly peering over the edge of the bed. About four car lengths down he is checking corners, no idea that I'm in the opposite direction. Not hesitating I lift my weapon and fire a head shot dropping him like a rag doll.
Always aim for the head. The Devil taught me that the first time he wanted to show me an example of what happens to those who betray him.
As quickly as possible, I drag my body down four flights of stairs to my car, where I slide inside and use the speaker phone. After putting a call into the BV MC for a cleanup crew, I head for the apartment, gritting my teeth the entire way.
You think driving a stick is difficult? Try driving that motherfucker with a burning graze and a bullet lodged comfortably in your arm.
On a heavy umph I barge into the apartment, dropping down into the closest chair. Shutting my eyes, I let my head rest against the back of the wall as I yell, “Drew!”
There's a minor shuffling sound before I hear a gasp. “Madden!”
Knowing Knox's distressed tone without having to actually see her expressions I try to reassure, “I'm fine.”
“You're not fucking fine!”
Don't. I am.
“I'm fine, Knox,” I grunt. After another painful breath I shout, “Drew! Drew McCoy!”
“Drew!” Knox echoes my yelling the sound of cabinets slamming closed behind her. “Drew!”
“Goddamn it! What?!” His voice appears and I open my eyes to see him covering his crotch with a notebook. “I'm kinda in the middle of a lesson!”
“Looking at you hurts worse than the bullet in my arm.”
“What?!” Drew drops the journal. “You're fucking shot?”
“I lied.” Instinctively my eyes shut. “Looking at that hurts more than my wound.”
“Get dressed and get your medical guru girlfriend!” Knox demands, her voice suddenly beside mine. Elevating the arm causes me to hiss. “Sorry baby.”
Lifting my eyelids back up I meet her eyes. “That's the first time you've ever called me something sweet.”
“You're bleeding to death. I made an exception.”
I stifle the urge to laugh. “So I have to be dying before you wanna call me something other than an asshole?”
“Are you dying?” Her voice tries to sass, but the concern in it is much louder.
“I'll be fine,” I insist wincing in discomfort.
Melody flies around the corner and exclaims, “Oh my gosh!”
My head rolls around to her. “Think you can help?”
“Yeah. Of course.” She rushes towards the table. “Knox apply pressure to the wound.”
Knoxie does as instructed, which causes me to groan. “Oh, don't be a pussy.”
Glaring at her I whisper, “I'm gonna tear that pussy apart as soon as this is fixed.”
She glares in return and pushes harder on the wound.
A growl of pain rips from me.
She did that shit on purpose.
“Yank it out!” Drew demands from over her shoulder just as Destin comes dashing into the kitchen.
Destin shrieks, “What the fuck?”
“We don't yank out the bullet,” Melody calmly informs while she messes around with a homemade first aid kit. Lowering my eyelids once more, I hear her say, “Unless you absolutely have to, you don't remove the bullet. The only reason you would do that is if there's an initial infection from the wound. There's not. We just need to get him bandaged, calm-”
“I am calm.”
“And some pain killers. Not to mention that graze fixed.”
Drew complains, “That doesn't sound right!”
“Well it is.”
“I don't fucking think so! My brother isn't just one of the pathetic grunts that used to beg for your help whenever The Devil used them as pin cushions! He fucking matters!”
To my surprise she calmly states, “I know that.”
“Do you? Do you fucking really?”
“Drew,” I groan. “Shut up.”
“No,” he argues with me and snaps back at Melody. “So that's it? You're just gonna let my brother walk around like Robocop?”
“Nice,” Destin replies and I assume fist bumps him.
Triple D are notorious for that action.
Between long deep breaths I try to focus on the upside of all of this.
Yes. There is an upside. The Devil is finally scared enough to come after me. He's trying to put me in the ground because he realizes I'm really not backing down.
There's more swarms of questions and harsh snaps, at me and at each other, but I don't say anything. I pour all the energy I have into keeping my eyes closed until Melody has finished up.
Unlike my little brother, I'm not worried. She's a pro at this.
“Done.” She breathes out, so I open my eyes. “No thanks to your whiny brothers.”
“Whiny?” They croak in unison.
“Like a twelve year old getting her first period,” Knoxie backs Melody. “She told you two, he would be fine. That she had it handled. Yet that didn't stop your screeching.”
“My fucking brother is shot!” Drew shouts. “What did you expect?”
“For you to trust me,” Melody stands up for herself. “To have a little faith that I wouldn't let Madden die if I could help it.”
Realizing how his behavior has come across his shoulders drop. “Mel-”
“Don't.” She raises a finger to him and turns to me. “I'm gonna get you something for the pain and something to make it easier to sleep tonight. I'll gather a compound that should essentially wipe away most of the pain in a couple days.”
“Thanks Mel.” I nod. “For. Everything.”
Her hand gives me a gentle pat before she walks away.
“What happened?” Destin chokes out. “What the hell happened? Where were you?”
They figured I had given up on hunting down who fucked with Ben's car. No need to stir that shit up. It's been taken care of. Just keep it between us. Well and probably Knox because she's gonna torture it out of me. You've met her.
“Not important where I was. I need you to check my car for a tracking chip. I'm pretty sure I was followed. That's how they ambushed me,” I explain. Knoxie's hand gently touches the uninjured side of me. “The Devil sent a crew.”
“From the looks of it, they're shooting to kill,” Drew states.
“So am I.” Gulping down the grim reality I sigh, “We knew this was coming.”
We did. When we started cutting off his reliable access he started making harsh moves, but when we cut off his ability to completely vanish as well as his ability to continue to make cash by running his operations, we put him in a corner. To fuck up a quote that Knox loves almost as much as her jeep, no body puts that dick in a corner.
Melody slides me a glass. “Just drink. It's
already in there.”
