Pawn: The Pawn Duet, Book Two

by Frazier, T. M.

  “I’m not looking for a ticket out. I wasn’t there, but it was us. I should have stopped it but I didn’t. But, that’s not why I came here,” he says, calmly. Too fucking calmly considering the adrenaline shooting through my veins is enough to bring someone long in the grave back to fucking life.

  “Then, what the fuck are you looking for?” I press, seeing nothing but how good King’s studio would look decorated with his fucking brains.

  Percy sighs and looks to the ground. “Redemption, but I know I ain’t gonna find that here.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s none of the rage or cockiness I’m used to seeing when our paths have crossed in the past. “I killed him. Not by my own hand but in a roundabout way. I knew it was gonna happen, and I let it. Gutter’s death is on me. His blood is on my hands,” he admits. “And I know it don’t mean shit, but I’m sorry for it.”

  “You’re right. It don’t mean shit.” I reply, smacking him in the back of his head with the handle of my gun.

  “Ahhhh!” He rubs his head and hisses. “It happened because Darius told me and the rest of the Reich that Gutter was the one responsible for the death of my moms. It’s not an excuse. It’s just the reason. I fucking swear it.”

  “Next thing I know, you’re going to tell me that you and your fucking clan had nothing to do with threatening King and his family all because you think I snitched on you and got you locked up,” I scoff. I roll my eyes because I ain’t buying it.

  “No, I know that wasn’t you. Well, I know that now. That shit with King and trying to get to you by threatening him and stealing your shit to put you at war with King? That was Darius. I knew that before I got out of the joint. I can’t deny that because it’s the fucking truth.” He takes a deep breath. “But, that’s not why I’m here. Like I said, it’s Mickey. She needs your help.”

  There’s a noise outside. Light footsteps on the gravel.

  Motherfucking liar.

  “Shit,” Percy swears, his chin dropping to his chest.

  “Thought you said you came alone,” King remarks, cocking his gun still aimed at the back of Percy’s head. “Guess you wanted a witness to your execution.” King jerks his head to me, and I go to the door, listening for movement on the other side. There’s a slight sound of shuffling, and all I see is the color of the blood I’m about to spill from whoever the fuck it is that Percy brought along to carry out whatever stupid fucking plan he had in mind.

  Percy looks nervously to the door. “I said I came in here alone,” he blurts out quickly. “There’s someone else with me, but it’s not what you—”

  Fueled by anger, I turn the handle, grip my gun with both hands and kick open the door. A lump of dirty, dark hair falls at my feet.

  “—think,” he finishes.

  She’s shaking in fear, staring up at me with wide eyes.

  “What the fuck did you do to her?” I accuse Percy, looking down at the shivering girl who doesn’t so much as make a sound.

  “Nothing, there’s a monster fucking coyote lurking outside. She probably just got scared and wanted to come in. I told Mickey I’d protect her, and this is the only place I could think of that she’d be safe. Here. With you.” He picks her up and sets her gingerly on the couch. “She’s quiet, that’s for sure. Think there’s something wrong with her vocal chords. Her name is Mindy.”

  “As in Mickey’s dead sister?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yeah,” he croaks. “The very one.”

  Said coyote’s ears must have been ringing because Pancakes, who belongs to Bear, decides to make his entrance.

  “See! I told you!” Percy says, pointing at Pancakes who strolls into King’s studio and sniffs the air and then sniffs at Mindy. He decides that whatever is taking place isn’t worth his time or effort, so he turns around and stalks off into the night.

  “He’s domesticated,” King tells Percy.

  There’s a shriek in the distance, the echo of a small animal that sounds like it’s being mauled to death. The sound becomes a muffled yelp before there’s no noise at all.

  King walks over and kicks the door shut before resuming guard over Percy. “For the most part,” he adds. King picks up Mindy carefully and places her gently on the couch. She turns toward the back cushions, pressing herself against them while trembling in fear.

  “Fuck, she’s fucked up,” King points out.

  “Can we talk now?” Percy asks. “You can still kill me after. Just hear me out first.”

  As much as I’d like to shut him up by way of bullet in his fucking mouth, the need to hear what the fuck is going on wins out. I nod to King who pulls Percy off the floor by his shoulder and shoves him into a chair, standing guard over him.

  My gun might be pointed to the floor, but my finger massages the fucking trigger while I look from Mindy to Percy.

  “So, fucking talk.”

  9

  Mickey

  Percy’s been gone all night. His trailer is empty. My continued search for my sister has gotten me a whole lot of nowhere. And today, I have to find a recruit for the Reich and bring whoever the unfortunate soul winds up being, back to the compound for the barbecue later on this afternoon.

  But first, there’s one more place I haven’t checked for Mindy. A place that’s off limits to everyone in The Reich, including Percy.

  Darius’s office.

  Mud cakes the small path that leads from the portable classroom trailers through a thick patch of woods to a small outbuilding that used to be some sort of hunter’s cabin that Darius has claimed as his office and where he reigns over The Reich.

  The muddy path isn’t the route I take. I don’t want to be seen heading toward his office plus, I don’t want to raise suspicions with a trail of muddy footprints leading up to his door. Instead, I enter the wooded area by way of the open field, weaving my way through long wet grass. Ankle deep water sloshes all around me. I slow my movements so as to not cause any noticeable wake or sound. I move painfully slow, but it works. The only sound is the buzzing of mosquitoes and the occasional croaking frog.

  The cabin itself isn’t more than a one room log shack with a rickety front porch surrounded by an overgrowth of brush. I make my way around to the back of the building and peer into the windows. Because it’s only one room it’s easy to see that it’s empty of all occupants. Mindy is nowhere to be found. My heart sinks, but there’s a possibility that there is something in there that will lead me to her so I press on. The steps creak and groan as I make my way up to the backdoor.

  Of course, it’s locked, but I came prepared. Twenty minutes watching a YouTube video has given me the skills I need to pick a lock. I take out my tools, two long metal pieces I made out of a coat hanger. One straight and one with a hook at the end. It takes a few minutes longer than I expect. I’m sweating by the time the lock gives and the door sways open with a long groan.

  Darius’s desk takes up the majority of the room. Surprisingly there are no Fourth Reich symbols or metals like those that hang in the main building. The walls are blank for the exception of an old photograph of Darius and my father. The one Nine had showed me on the computer when we discovered that my dad and Darius had started The Reich together.

  What kind of sick bastard keeps a picture in his private office of the man he is responsible for killing?

  Darius. That’s fucking who.

  I pad over to the desk and duck behind it. The drawers are unlocked and most filled with office supplies, calendars and other clutter. Nothing useful. I move over to the file cabinet. Inside the bottom drawer is a file on every member of The Reich along with an account of dues paid and a description of their duties.

  The top drawer, however, is locked. I take out my coat hanger lock picks and this time it takes me less than a minute to crack the lock and open the drawer. Inside, I find a stack of notebooks. I lift the first one and open to the first page. Immediately, I recognize the handwriting as my father’s.

  May, 21st, 1999

  The summer has just s
tarted, and Darius and I already had our first fight over some of the recruits he’s obtained during the year. They’re more violent than any of the previous ones. Percy is also beginning to change, and it hurts me to see this affecting him as it has. I have begged for Darius to tell him the truth, to keep him out of the experiment, but Darius insists that if I’m to study the effects of hatred and loyalty in the brain, Percy needs to be a part of it.

  I don’t believe this to be true. I think Darius has grown used to having Percy, not as a son, but as his personal mound of clay to mold into the lapdog he wants him to be. He’s greedy, and his association with the cartel has only made him more so. It was only supposed to be to fund the experiment, but it turns out that Darius enjoys the wealth that it brings. I worry that he’s grown addicted to the thrill of it all. The violence. The power.

  I threatened to tell Percy myself, but Darius would not hear of it anymore. In turn, he threatened to expose me as a fraud, but that doesn’t make sense to me since he would essentially be exposing himself. I remind myself that this is a long game, and it’s far from over. I find myself asking how one can truly study hate without being a proponent of it?

  I can’t fucking breathe.

  Holy shit.

  Darius knew it was an experiment? They started The Reich together but not as racists looking for followers, but as an experiment. So Darius didn’t kill my father because he found out he was studying The Reich.

  But then, why?

  * * *

  With my father’s journal tucked under the driver’s seat, and his words swimming in my brain, I set out to fulfill the task Darius has placed upon me.

  Today, I have to find a new recruit and bring them back to The Reich for the barbeque this afternoon.

  The taste of dread dries out my mouth.

  “You can do this. You can do this,” I chant to myself.

  Yeah, you can do this, but you don’t fucking want too.

  I take one of the vans belonging to The Reich and drive to a spot by the bridge close to where my family crashed into the river four years earlier. I park and try not to recall all the vivid images threatening to take over my thoughts and focus on the task at hand. I can do this. I can totally recruit someone, and then, when it’s all over, I’ll tell them the truth and get them the fuck out.

  No harm. No foul?

  Sure, just play a game with someone’s life and mind. It’s fine. It doesn’t make you a terrible person at all.

  But it does. And as much as I like to think I’ve been a bystander in all of this, I haven’t. I helped rob Pike’s shipment that night. I helped break into his shop to steal his stash.

  I’m the one who shot Badger in the leg.

  Twice.

  The guilt I feel, though warranted, is completely unhelpful.

  I take a deep breath and try to focus.

  My eyes land on a girl, sitting alone on a rock, smoking a cigarette. Her bright red hair is pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her black t-shirt and baggy jeans are several sizes too big, and her once white sneakers are dirt caked, the laces black.

  I spy a camping backpack by her feet pushed up against the rock.

  I approach her carefully so as not to scare her off.

  “Do you live around here?” I ask.

  She whips her head around to face me. Her bright green eyes dull with whatever hardship has her living out of a backpack and hanging out under the bridge. She shrugs. “I live around here…and there.”

  I tuck my hands in my back pockets. “Listen, I’m just about to go and grab some food. You wanna join me?”

  “You part of some church group or something?” she asks, scrunching her nose.

  “Nope. I’m not exactly the religious type.

  She nods and takes a drag of her cigarette. “Then, do I look like I got money for food?” She shakes her head and stubs out her cigarette on the rock, flicking it into the water.

  “No, it’s on me. Actually, it’s on my family. They’re having a barbecue. You should come,” I say, and the kindness in my voice isn’t fake. The girl’s cheeks are sunken in, and it looks like she could use a good meal. It’s the least I can do for her, considering where I’m taking her and what I’m potentially exposing her to.

  It's all part of the greater plan.

  “Why?” she asks, suspiciously, and rightfully so.

  I take a few steps toward her. “Well, because you look lost and I was lost once, and before you can find yourself, you have to feed yourself,” I explain. “Besides, someone gave me a second chance once. Someone gave me hope when I didn’t have any.”

  And it’s true, but I’m not thinking of the Reich when I say those words. I’m talking about Pike.

  She raises a suspicious, pierced eyebrow.

  I smile. “Maybe, I just want to return the favor to the universe, pay it forward. Some shit like that.”

  She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good. I don’t feel like being sex- trafficked today.”

  “You got a phone?” I ask.

  She nods slowly. “Yeah, why?”

  “Take it out.” I take a step back. “I’m not trying to take it from you I swear.”

  Reluctantly, she pulls it out of her pocket.

  I turn to the side and pose the way the girls do these days with their selfies. Hand on my hip, knee up, slightly turned to the side. “Take a picture of me.”

  She rolls her eyes and laughs. She takes a picture of my ridiculous pose. She laughs harder when I give full duck lips. “You going to leave now?”

  “No, I want you to send that picture to someone you trust along with my name. Michaela Lovejoy. Dr. Michaela Lovejoy, actually. I’ll give you the address of the barbecue, too, and if the person you are texting likes barbecue, then invite them to come along.”

  She twists her lips and then her thumbs fly over the keys, and I know she’ll be coming back with me.

  I smile brighter. “Make sure to tell them if you go missing that I’m the one responsible.”

  I almost forget that my plans are actually nefarious when we’re in the van singing along to a bubbly pop song until she lowers the volume and asks, “So, what’s the name of this group of yours?”

  It takes everything I have to maintain a casual attitude and to keep the smile on my face from dropping, but the corner of my lip twitches with disdain. “The Fourth Reich.”

  “Never heard of it,” she says, staring out the window at the cornfields surrounding the road. “My name’s Emma, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Emma,” I reply. The van makes a dinging sound. “Shit. I need gas,” I say, noticing the red line is below empty. I pull into the Stop-N-Shop. “Wait in here. I’ll just be a second.”

  I step out of the van and go inside, paying for the gas. When I come back out, I fill the tank. I replace the gas nozzle on the hook, and when I turn back around, I find myself trapped, barricaded by a wall of Pike.

  “What?” I breathe. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I can ask you the same thing,” he says, looking toward the truck. “Who the fuck is that?”

  “Nobody,” I reply. I want to be mean and rude and yell at him but staring up into his eyes I feel the pull between us and I can’t ignore it.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper.

  He stares into my eyes. “You thought wrong.” He points to the van. “Who the fuck is that?”

  I bounce my weight from one foot to another, not wanting to tell him. Embarrassed and ashamed.

  “Mic,” he presses, pushing me against the back of the van. He brushes a stray hair away from my face. “Tell me….please”

  I look to my shoes. “Fine. She’s my assignment. I have to bring a recruit back to the barbecue,” I say, quickly. I cross my arms over my chest like a child. “Happy? Because I’m not.”

  He frowns. “Far fucking from it.”

  “It’s not like I want to,” I whisper-hiss. “You think I want to bring anyone there?” />
  Pike rounds the van to the passenger side.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I call after him.

  He ignores me and yanks the door open. Emma almost falls out, bracing herself on the seat, her red hair blowing in the breeze.

  “Who the fuck are you?” she asks.

  “Here, kid.” Pike says, passing her several hundred-dollar bills from his wallet.

  She looks at the money and then to Pike, making a slow appraisal of his long, lean body. She bites her lip. “‘Cause you don’t gotta pay me, baby. I’ll do you for free.” She laughs. “Shit, if I had any money, I’d pay you.”

  Pike ignores her comment and looks her in the eyes. “The place the lady here is taking you to is a racist organization hellbent on terrorizing anyone who isn’t the right shade of pale,” he says, honestly. “They are trying to recruit you into a life that’s going to lead you down a path that will probably end with you getting locked up or killed. The money is for you to get the fuck out of this van. Use it to go home, and if that ain’t an option for you, I own the Pawn Shop on main. Pike’s Pawn. I’ve got a cot and a job for you if you’re interested. Just ask for Thorne. She’ll set you up.”

  Emma slowly takes the money as if Pike is about to snatch it back. She hurries out of the van and slams the door behind her. She looks between me and Pike. “Ya’ll are a weird-ass couple,” she remarks.

  Before I can correct her that we aren’t a couple, she scurries off toward the bus station bench. “I’ll be taking you up on that offer!”

  Pike nods and turns back to me. He takes me by the elbow and walks me behind the Stop-N-Shop “What the fuck are you doing, Mic?”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he shoots back.

  “I can’t go back there without a recruit. It’s one of my tests.”

  “Then, don’t go back there,” he says as if it’s just that simple.

  “I can’t because…”

  “Because why?” he demands.

  He spins me so my back is flush against the stucco of the building. I’m breathing heavy and my face is flushed. “Because I realized recently that all of this is about more than my revenge. It’s about righting the wrongs my father put in place. I can’t just kill Darius and Percy. I have to take down the Reich. Dismantle them from the inside. But there’s so much I don’t know. So much I still have to find out before I can do anything.” I fill him in on my father’s journal and Percy’s odd behavior after he found mine. “And plus, Mindy is somewhere in the Reich, but Percy moved her, and I can’t find her.”