Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  “One that drew the short straw,” Buck muttered. “I still can’t believe they sent him out here like that.”

  They watched as Tiny un-cuffed their guest from the chains. The poor bastard hit the concrete in a pile and stayed that way, whimpering and sniffling. Shit, Buck had to reassess how young he actually was.

  “Unless this was a small warning, too,” Tank kept muttering. “But we haven’t really had a toe-to-toe with G-Town in a long time.”

  Buck’s stomach sank and he dropped his head. “Shit,” he snapped.

  “What?”

  With another mumbled curse he brought his head up to meet Tank’s eyes. “I picked up Gertie after work on Friday. These two dealers she’s bought from before were outside. I went into her building to get her, came out and these clowns were leaning on my bike. We had some words. One of them tried to rush me, but I put him on the ground. They got out of there pretty fast but … I did hit one of them.”

  Tank sniffed, thoughtful. “Shoulda told me that Friday.”

  “Fuck. I know. I really didn’t think much of it. Especially with the way they got the hell out of there.”

  Tank nodded. “Well, it was just a dealer, not a drive-by or anything. But knocking down a G-Town prick in town was a dumb idea.”

  Buck nodded. “Agreed. It was reflex, he was out to take a round out of me, but … agreed.”

  “We’ll tell Jayce. Not like we were on good ground with them anyway. I don’t think you made things worse. This just means they owe us again.”

  Buck felt like shit. This was likely an arrow shot across the bow, but now the Rebels had escalated things all because he’d been stupid for a minute. And because Gertie had been there. He didn’t want to beat people up to impress her, but he didn’t want those assholes hassling her, either.

  Tiny was stripping the kid to his shorts and he was too tired to fight or protest. Knuckles turned the hose on him, washing away the sweat and blood that had been worked up. The kid moaned like the cold water was a relief.

  Tank slapped Buck’s shoulder. “You can drop him off at the town limits. Consider it pulling the short straw on this one.”

  Buck half-heartedly laughed. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Tank offered, pushing away from the wall and striding from the room with those long legs.

  Buck was staring at the kid on the ground, feeling something a lot like pity. Like he was sorry. But he pushed it away and followed his VP.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gertie checked her purse again, for the twentieth time since the cab had dropped her at the airport. She had her boarding pass, a change of clothes in her carry-on “just in case,” her eBook reader, gum, and damn near everything else you’re allowed to bring on a plane.

  The gate wasn’t open yet, so she was waiting on a plastic bench in the main entry. Gertie always tried to be early for flights; she hated rushing. That was always when she forgot something like her passport which … yes, it was in her bag. She was set.

  She flicked on her eReader, resolved to see what everyone was raving about when it came to Stieg Larsson. It was quiet, the gates were all still closed and vacant, it was her and a fellow running the floor buffer.

  Gertie was soon immersed in her novel and barely noticed someone sink into the seat next to her. She leaned away slightly, then wondered why anyone would be sitting right next to her when the entire place was damn near empty.

  “Good book there, honey?”

  She jumped as a hand closed around her wrist before she could react to that voice. She tried to jolt away just as another body sunk in on her other side, putting his arm around the back of her seat.

  Gertie took a couple seconds to figure out how these two were familiar. The dealers, the ones she had bought shit from. The man with his arm around her had a swollen eye and nose, the one that Buck had hit. The other one was the talker, with the gold teeth. He was smiling too nicely, the other one, not so much. So Gertie kept her eye on the chatty one.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered, straining over her shoulder to see where the janitor was. Too far, as it turned out. Too far away and listening to headphones.

  “Don’t worry,” the one with all the smiles said, shaking his head. “Ain’t gonna hurt you, Momma. Just need a favor.”

  Gertie took a deep breath. What the hell was this? A favor from her?

  “You got some interesting friends,” Chatty said, leaning into her arm. She couldn’t lean away without pressing into the other one’s chest, so that was out of the question. “Didn’t realize class like you could stoop to that level.”

  “I don’t see how I can do you any favors,” she replied, hearing how she sounded terrified. And she didn’t want to discuss Buck; that was a topic of conversation the third party might not appreciate.

  “Don’t underestimate yourself. You know the last product of ours you sampled?” He smiled, slow and creepy. “Did you enjoy it?”

  The orange Oxy. Gertie swallowed, shaking her head. “I didn’t try it. I was told later it was dangerous.”

  “Told you to just take one,” he admonished, teasing her and freaking her out more with it. “Big girl like you can handle it.”

  Gertie’s heart sped up. She couldn’t even find it in her to be offended by the term “big.” Her eyes kept trying to find someone to help her but she was absolutely alone with these two. “What do you want?” she finally asked. “Just say it. Stop scaring me.”

  His grin went full-strength, nodding past her to his partner. Black Eye gave her a card with a name and phone number. “Call this guy when you get to Vancouver. He’ll meet you to give you a package. You and that Vancouver office have an inter-office courier system, right?”

  Gertie’s heart was going to rip its way through her sternum, she just knew it. “Yes,” she whispered, voice catching.

  “He’ll bring you one of those bubble-pack envelopes,” the talkative one cut in. “Put it in the courier in Vancouver and address it to yourself. Tell your coworkers you don’t want more shit in your luggage. Or you want the package to remain in company hands for the sake of some chain of custody bullshit. Or it’s not something you want to misplace in your room or a cab. Whatever.”

  The room was rotating around her, her hands sweaty and slipping on the death-grip she had on her eReader and its case. She couldn’t do any of that. Jesus, what the hell were they asking of her?

  “What is it?” she asked, still breathless, unable to look away from Chatty.

  “Just some more product. It’s small. Those envelopes can hold a lot. Just enough to get us through while our pipeline gets itself put together again. We’ll pack it so it’s not rattlin’ ‘round.”

  Before he finished she was shaking her head, her shock dissolving enough for her to realize there was no way she was doing this. It was stupid and dangerous and she’d get caught. “I can’t,” she said, sounding like she was apologizing. “I can’t do that! I can’t go to jail!”

  “Inter-office mail?” Chatty repeated. “You think that shit gets opened at the border? It’s one courier truck to the other, easy as that. I know you’re coming back Wednesday morning. I’ll wait until Thursday to call and see if it’s in yet. Which means you call my guy tonight so it’s in Tuesday’s courier. I know your shit takes two days to get back and forth.”

  Gertie’s mouth was hanging open. “How do you know all this?”

  He grinned even wider. “Not a lot of women like you are out buying pot and Oxy. And you got real interesting when I saw you having lunch with Louis Dénise.”

  Her air rushed out of her lungs. “How do you know him?” She wasn’t going to offer up that he was her father, but it sounded like these guys would already know that.

  Chatty leaned in close, and now she was pinned between the two of them. She didn’t think they’d do her physical harm, but this was so uncomfortable and unexpected she was squirming anyway. “Hold still Momma,” Chatty advised. “I think Handsome John
likes you rubbing up on him like that.”

  Gertie’s eyes shot to the quiet one, and he just smiled. Fuck, Handsome John? Really?

  “I know who your daddy is,” Chatty admitted, liking saying that to her for obvious reasons. “And I don’t mean the asshole that made Handsome John a little less handsome. Your daddy has a lot of people looking for him … a lot of very pissed off and dangerous people. If you’re not careful, someone like me might tell these people to where to find your dear old dad. Or how you’d be a mighty nice way to get your poppa right where they’d want him.”

  Now she was shocked silent again.

  “You didn’t know about the money your daddy lost a few years back.” He played at being sorry, covering his mouth. “Sorry honey, my bad. I thought you knew.”

  “What are you talking about?” she snapped. There, that sounded stronger.

  “There are gangsters after your father,” he said, losing the cute act and grabbing her by the back of the neck. “Now, the hit on him is country-wide. He’s worth a million dollars alive. The good news for him is no one can come into Bakersfield to get him unless they ask us. We can keep saying no until the source of this million dollar reward comes looking.” He tightened his grip and she whimpered, holding her breath. “But if you do this, this one time, your dad will have a few more months to sort himself out or go into hiding real good. You can buy him time, honey. It’s the least you can do.”

  “Call our guy tonight,” the deep voice on her other side suggested. “Just one little favor and daddy can get the hell out of Dodge. That’s all we need, darlin’. But,” now he leaned in, hand clamping on her knee hard enough to hurt. “Your other man can’t know. Don’t go expecting your knight in shining armor to get you out of this. We find out you told him and he gets his hands on our shit, you and your daddy are in the newspapers.”

  As a pair they stood and sauntered away, leaving her staring at the rectangle of paper in her hand. When they were gone her hands started trembling, and her vision became blurred as her eyes watered. Never in her life had she been this scared. Jim in the bathroom at The Dog’s Breakfast hadn’t done this to her. Her insides were like fire-water, heated and churning in her gut.

  She wanted to take out her phone and call Buck. She really wanted him to make this all go away. She’d seen him clock that man, like it was nothing to physically defend himself. Come to think of it, it made her feel even safer with him.

  Her phone was in her hand without another thought. Just call Buck, he can make it all go away. Or he’ll at least know what she can do. But she paused before hitting “dial.”

  He’d tell her to do it. Then he’d take the shipment for himself, and these guys would be pissed. And her father would suffer for it.

  Gertie had no idea her father was in any kind of trouble. But as her last conversation with her dad came to mind, over brunch at Schmidt’s, her blood ran cold and stilled. That’s when she knew these men weren’t just fucking around. It was true. Her father had already hinted at it, advising Gertie not to answer Buck’s questions about him.

  Buck had never asked, though. And these guys knew.

  Gertie put her phone away. She felt sick, but she had no choice. She would do this one favor for her father, and then she’d be done.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The van doors slid shut and Knuckles gave the panels a solid bang with the side of his fist. Their precious cargo was loaded in the company van from Mickey’s garage and ready for the journey north to LA. Three hours there, three hours back. Only the trip up would be dicey, the van loaded with automatic rifles like it was. Sure they were hidden in crates of muffler parts but still.

  “I’ll drive in the van with Fritter,” Knuckles offered, chewing a toothpick between his front teeth.

  It was a surprising offer but Jayce nodded, and Buck knew it was a good idea too. Fritter wanted back in, but he still couldn’t ride. At least this way he was helping to get his cut of the pay but he’d still be nearly useless if trouble came with his arm trussed up. At least Knuckles could draw this way.

  “Loose formation,” Jayce advised everyone. “Daytime ride. Keep your eyes open.”

  Then Jayce slapped palms with “Bane” Travis, the president of the Bastard Banshees. They took care of the dodgy run from the border up through Bakersfield. Well out of their backyard, they were happy to hand it off to the Rebels for the remaining trip.

  Buck’s place would be in front of the van, Spaz to the other side. They’d allow plenty of room for the van so it wasn’t too obvious they were travelling together.

  This day was the perfect way for Buck to clear Gertie out of his head. He and Tank had dropped the G-Town punk at city limits already. The kid had regained some bravado on the trip, cussing them out. Apparently they were in for a world of hurt because his mom was a girlfriend of a founding member or something. Tank informed him G-Town only slept with whores, which meant his mother was being paid for her services and didn’t warrant any revenge plots from the gang. And that pissed their overnight guest off more.

  They had his hands zip-tied so there were no worries about bodily harm. They simply opened the side doors and shoved him out wearing only his shorts. They threw his clothes out, they weren’t that cruel. Buck even cut the zip-ties for him, then they sped back to the clubhouse to find out about the protection detail for that evening.

  Jayce had taken the news about the dealer Buck had punched well. There was no love lost between the crews, so retaliation was going to be flying back and forth for a while now. Rebels were making their shipments difficult and keeping them from dealing in Markham, which was a great place for drugs to take hold. It was supposed to be a bedroom community for Bakersfield, but people had moved east instead of north-east. So all the optimism for a vibrant, cozy little community died and the poorer folks moved in. It could be depressing, definitely. And that’s the kind of place that loved drugs.

  People still got them, of course. Anything other than pot they had to drive into the city to get, and that’s the way the club wanted it. Dealers were where the violence happened, addicts just robbed people. Annoying but not nearly as dangerous.

  So this little back-and-forth was pretty small in the grand scheme of both clubs. It was like stepping on each other’s toes just to be a pain in the other’s neck. Petty, really.

  The treatment of the kid was elevating things, definitely. They had to brace for whatever was going to happen next.

  After riding back with Gertie, this immediate three-hour trek seemed pretty damn long, and they likely intended to head right back if Jayce was with them. He was never away from his family overnight, especially with Trinny pregnant, if he could possibly avoid it.

  Buck’s body was going to be furious with him tomorrow. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret the night away with Gertie.

  He was starting to think of her as his girl, he was even calling her that. He thought she’d consider him to be hers. Women usually jumped to that conclusion first, right? They arrived at that milestone before the guy. Didn’t they?

  This woman had him tied up, sure. And it still wasn’t phasing him. Maybe he was more off than she was.

  The evening was warm and incredibly calm. The wind from that afternoon had died off, so they were rolling on blacktop with an orange sunset blazing to the west. Perfect for riding. The highway was quiet, hardly another car in sight. All their runs should be so perfect.

  Until the sirens, of course. At the front of the procession Buck could see the sirens in his side mirrors, and he motioned Spaz to the side. They all stopped in the order they were in, and they weren’t holding up the pig on his way to another emergency. It was them the cops were after. The cruiser stopped behind them all.

  Buck stayed where he was. It was Markham PD, so without words the group waited for Jayce to handle it. Buck whistled for Spaz’s attention. The kid snapped to immediately, pulling off his sunglasses.

  “Traffic blitz today?” Buck asked.

  S
paz shook his head. “Not in their day planner today. I checked.”

  It was handy to have a hacker around for this very purpose.

  Buck turned on his seat, peering around the van. Fritter was behind the wheel of the van, and he was leaning out the driver’s window, too.

  It wasn’t the Sheriff this time, though. It was one of her deputies, a redhead whose name Buck could never remember. He often just thought of him as Archie.

  After some conversation that didn’t end up with wild gestures or a fistfight the deputy returned to his cruiser, pulled a U-turn and headed back to Markham.

  Jayce climbed off his ride, so the rest of the group did the same, assembling next to the van on the shoulder.

  “What’s up?” Buck asked when they were all in a circle, Knuckles and Fritter leaning out the van window to hear.

  “Sheriff’s department got word that the highway patrol picked up a kid on the outskirts of Bakersfield, beaten and burned. Bakersfield PD are pissed, and Downey thinks we should stay the night wherever we’re going. She’ll vouch that when she came by to ask us about the kid we were already on the highway. Timelines will get fuzzy.” Jayce didn’t sound happy. He always worried about the kids and Trinny on overnight stays.

  “I’ll call Jolene,” Mickey offered. “She can go over there, stay with Trinny and the kids.”

  Jayce nodded his thanks. “And I’ll send Tims and Rusty over too,” he muttered, pulling out his phone.

  The club had always suspected that G-Town had a few cops on their payroll, but with a big city and a big PD it was hard to have everyone on their side. It was still nice to get the heads’ up so it wouldn’t blindside them when they arrived back in Markham.

  Once Jayce made sure his brood were safe he returned to his bike and they all mounted up again, this time Tank and Mickey taking point. The van fell in next, Jayce and Tank, Red and Tiny, then Spaz and Buck took up the rear.