“I understand.” Disappointment eats at me.
Carissa’s eyes light up and she grabs my arm. “You know who did this and you’re going to torture them?” she whispers in awe. “I want to watch.”
Not dignifying that with an answer, I snatch my arm away from her then crook my finger at both girls. They huddle close. “When Bailey or Roxanne call, you haven’t seen me, you feel me?”
Alexia glances at me through her lashes, flipping her braids over her shoulder. Roxanne has tried to impress upon her that goldilocks fucking hair and her dark skin don’t match well. She thinks she’s the shit. I wish Alexia would settle the fuck down before she finds herself in trouble.
“I don’t feel you,” she says with a slow smile.
My glare wipes the grin off her face. “I was fucking clear enough.”
“Not really,” Carissa tells me. She’s more like Bailey, sensible. “You’re right in front of us.”
Orrrr, maybe, fucking not. “No the fuck I’m not, girl. Bailey thinks I’m somewhere else. I didn’t disturb Roxanne with this. Don’t say a goddamn thing to either one of them during your daily calls. Leave it to me to explain.”
“How much are you paying us to keep quiet?” Alexia asks.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Not a motherfucking thing.” My goddamn patience has worn thin. I have to stay and play nursemaid. I’ve been gainsaid by Pearllene and Miss Catherine regarding the hospital. I’m not in the fucking mood for Alexia’s games. “You’re keeping quiet because I’m telling you to do it.”
Alexia smirks at me. “I’ll do it for a grand.”
“Fuck off. Fuck no.” The one thing I hate to do is spend money. That’s why I gave Bailey her own bank account. She’s studying to be a psychologist. As my wife, however, I want to share my wealth with her. It just galls me if I dip into my fortune.
“You need us to keep quiet,” she reminds me.
“Momma’s recovering from the shooting. We don’t want to stress her out unnecessarily. Mort will tell her at the right time.”
Alexia may be larcenous and oversexed but she loves Roxanne. Carissa’s words make her back down. That still leaves Bailey.
“Bailey—” she starts, on cue.
I raise my hand to shut her up. “If you open your fucking mouth, you won’t ever be welcomed in my house,” I snap. Bailey would probably overrule me. Except they don’t have to know that. “You’re going to do what the fuck I say and shut the fuck up about tonight. I’m going to be the one to explain this to her.”
Carissa cocks her head to the side. “Exactly what is this? You haven’t told us yet. How did you come to be in New Orleans, bringing MeMe home all beat up, when we couldn’t find her?”
“Pearllene was kidnapped by two stupid motherfuckers. They saw the rock on her finger. The one I gave to her for her birthday. Fuckers decided to fuck with me with bogus bullshit. I got my ass here as fast as I could and found her. One motherfucker was beating Miss Catherine and the other your MeMe.”
The girls’ eyes have widened and their mouths have dropped open.
Alexia covers her mouth while Carissa gulps.
“Oh my God,” they chorus.
“Exactly,” I say. “Bailey and Roxanne don’t need to know this right now.”
Carissa throws herself against me, stands on tiptoe and hugs me. “Thank you! Oh, my God. You saved MeMe’s life. If Momma had known, she would’ve come and put herself in all types of danger.”
Alexia plasters herself to my side. “Thank you so much.”
Putting an arm around each of them, I grunt a response, then step back and turn, heading to the door. “Now that’s settled I need to get to my doctoring duties with Pearllene.”
“Wait!” Carissa calls. “If you had someone else to help us patch them up, you’d go back and make the bad guys suffer?”
I tip my head back. I shouldn’t answer this shit. These two bitches are so fucking nosy. They want justice for their grandmother, however. If I was in their shoes, I know I would. “I’d have a little talk with them,” I say. Vagueness is the best policy.
Carissa nods, then twists her hands. She eyes her sister, then me. “I’m dating a nurse,” she announces as if she’d prefer not to.
“Get him over here,” Alexia demands.
Carissa winces. “He’s a she.”
Let the drama commence.
Alexia gasps. “What does that mean?”
I don’t have time for this shit, so I spin. “It mean she batting for the other team,” I say. “I’m not mad at her. Pussy is the best thing known to man. However,” I stress, interrupting Alexia as she’s about to speak. She snaps her mouth shut. “This is a conversation for another time. Can your girlfriend get her ass here and tend to the wounded?”
Carissa nods. “Mama already knows about my relationship,” she says, still stuck on shit that’s not my fucking business. Her pussy. Her life.
Alexia is looking at her sister in disgust.
“Don’t start nothing, won’t be nothing,” I bite out. These two will fight at the drop of a hat. Never mind the fact that their MeMe and her friend are injured. “Alexia, see to Miss Catherine until this nurse arrives.” Crooking my finger at the other one. “Rissa, you get your girlfriend here ASAP.”
She heads out of the room. Before I leave the house, I need to say goodbye. Walking to Miss Catherine, I kiss her forehead. “Bye, Miss Catherine. Don’t get into too much trouble.”
She grins at me and grabs my hand to squeeze it, surprisingly strong for someone her age and what she’s been through. “Dem bones of mine say you be a fine boy. You did real good comin’ straight for her.”
“She’s Bailey’s grandmother,” I say gruffly, “so that makes her mine, too. No motherfucker fucks with my family.”
Miss Catherine nods and tugs at my hand. Dutifully, I bend over. “Thank you for everythin’ and don’t be shy to be callin’ in on Pearllene regular in the future. I know she be wantin’ to see those babies of yours,” she whispers in my ear.
Straightening, I wink at her and head to Pearllene’s room, where I find Hamish has already washed most of the blood from her face and hands, and is tending to her knees.
As I get closer, I realize he’s removed her skirt and underwear. The old fucking pervert is looking at more than her knees. Meanwhile, I turn my back to them, scarred for life. I need to find brain bleach and eye bleach. Stat.
“Seeing my chooney calms Hamish,” Pearllene tells me without apology.
My ears are fucking burning. I can’t believe what the fuck I’m hearing. “I came to tell you goodbye,” I growl. “What do I find? Fetish porn in the making. The Adult Film for Senior Citizens.”
Frowning, I scrub a hand over my face to wipe away the images. It doesn’t work.
“I’m all covered. Get over here.”
“Do I have to?”
“Mortician,” she says in warning.
I huff out a breath and stalk to the side of her bed. One eye is still swollen shut. Although her nose is free of blood, she has scratches, bruises and a busted lip, but she’s still her. She’s a tough, old chick.
Focusing on her face, I bend and kiss her forehead, like I did with Miss Catherine.
She smiles up at me. “Thank you, Mortician,” she says in a quiet, teary voice. “I’m proud to call you my grandson.”
I swallow back the emotion rising up in me. It feels so fucking good to have a family. I didn’t know what I’d been missing, until it came into my life. “I’m proud to know such beautiful, courageous women,” I say, still a little too uncomfortable to call her grandma to her face. I dig in the pocket of my jeans to get her ring, then take her confiscated cell phone from inside my cut. I set them on the nightstand. “As soon as I’m finished with the motherfuckers who took you, I’m heading back to Hortensia.”
She nods. “Safe travels, boy.”
“Stay out of trouble, old woman,” I retort.
“I’ll make sure she does,” Ham
ish pipes up.
No fucking way am I looking in his direction, so I say, “thank you,” and haul ass out the house. Before I go to the Mercedes, I detour to the shed in the back yard. Using the flashlight app on my phone, I open the unlocked metal door, find a shovel—it’ll come in handy for burying two motherfuckers—then walk back to the car. I throw the garden tool on the backseat, slide into the driver’s side and finally get back on the road.
I hope I’m not too late and Edge hasn’t fucked up both assholes already.
Edge
Twist and Shout
I lean up against the paint peeling wall, crossing my arms over my cut and lock my ankles as best I can with this fucking moon boot on as I check my watch noting the time. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. I’ve got a flight to organize and catch back to Alaska with Miss Catherine, and Boxer’s gonna love the condition I bring her to Whisper in.
Fuck. Sake.
Another brownie point lost. Nothing to be done for it. Miss C ain’t spending Christmas alone without Whisper and I ain’t condoning her being moved until I know she has the all clear.
I scrub my hand down over my face and back up through my hair, trying to wipe away the fatigue. I’m gonna have to get some shut-eye on the flight back if I’m gonna be any good to anybody. I’m running on fumes and now we’ve got to deal with these two fucktards.
I shake my head in disgrace at the two sorry excuses for human beings before me. I’m ex-Special Forces and I was out there risking my fucking neck every day for Fucker-One and Fucker-Two to be able to grow up and live such outstanding lives.
Makes you wonder sometimes why they don’t skip jail and get thrown into boot camp and sent off to war as expendable shit-heads, instead of sullying the place up over here and beating down on old women.
And this thought just makes me want to get started already on one of these fucktards, but instead I take some time out until Mortician comes back. I let these two sweat it out, and allow time for their lives to flash before them, because they know they ain’t getting out of here alive this evening. This rotting shell of a home is gonna be their last stop before they head down to the fiery pits of hell.
Hell’s bastards seem to keep coming out of the woodwork and lining up to take a pot shot at the women I know. I’m looking forward to the day nobody is in fucking danger anymore.
I’m looking forward to visiting my sweet and wild girl. She’s safe now and no fucker will be having a reason for coming for her ever again. Not on my watch and I aim to be on her watch until I am convinced she is safe. Even if she don’t want me on her six, I’ll be on it keeping her protected.
I haven’t forgotten her for a moment since I’ve been gone. I’ve wanted to check-in with Ghost and see how she is, but I gave Boxer twenty-four hours and I’m sticking to that.
I adjust my stance, because I need to take a piss, but at the same time I’m dry as a bucket of sand.
I run my eyes over the two fucktards and decide they aren’t going anywhere whether I piss or not, so I go locate the worse-than-a-public-beach toilet and do my business and then head out to my bike and grab a water bottle I have in my saddlebag. It’s laying on top of the two ladies handbags I rescued from the dumpster. After I gulp the water down until I’ve emptied the bottle, my stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me to make sure I get Miss C and me something to eat soon. She took a fair beating and for that I’m sorry, but I can look after her now for Whisper and keep her fed and safe. No time for packing a suitcase for her, I’ll just buy her whatever she needs in Anchorage. She’s been roughed up, but is dressed warm enough for the flight.
I come back inside and resume my stance up against the flaking wall and address the two fools trussed up on the floor who look like they are about to start pissing their pants any moment now. I think these two need a little talking to before Mortician gets back.
“By now you would have noticed my new friend and I are wearing motorcycle club cuts. We aren’t going to a fancy dress party. These cuts are the real deal. You two boys were lucky enough to have chosen to piss off, mighty badly might I add, the enforcers for the Death Dwellers MC and the Soulless Bastards MC. Which is a pretty big fucking achievement, if you ask me.
“Having one enforcer on your case is bad enough…but two?” I shake my head in amusement. “That’s really a big no-no. Now, I don’t know how Mortician operates, but I usually have a little black bag I like to call, No Mercy. You cocksuckers have no idea how lucky you are it’s not with me today, but in saying that, I am a very creative motherfucker when I want to be and I can make do with whatever I have handy.” I walk over and pick up three rusty old nails lying on the filthy floor and hold them up.
“Take these for example. There may not be a hammer in sight, but I am sure I can find a place to shove them which will hurt like the dickens.” I give them both a tight smile. “Where there is a will… there is always a way.” Both fucktards now have a bad case of Manga eyes. They are almost popping out of their heads.
I pocket the nails and then find the old, battered wooden chair, which has seen better days and had lost its way in the hallway, and bring it back, setting it down a couple feet from the fucktards. I turn it around and sit on it back-to-front so I’m straddling it and resting my arms along the back of the chair.
“Forgive me, I digress.” I lean down and swiftly pull the knife from my ankle holster and stab it viciously into the place I had been resting my arms.
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard of our clubs, but we don’t take kindly to the people under our protection being kidnapped and physically assaulted because of greed and plain-dumb-old-assholery.
“I thought we could get to know each other a little better. I’m gonna do a short survey and it only requires a yes-nod or a no-nod. I want to stress that your responses could save your lives here today… if you answer honestly. If you are thinking of lying, I will know. I’m kinda funny that way. I’ve always been able to spot a liar.
“I’ll only ask once and I want your immediate honest response to the question. No fucking peeking at the person next to you and cheating off them. I’m looking for a yes-nod right now if you understand what the survey response entails.”
They nod up and down like a couple of bobble heads.
“Fuckin’ A, you boys catch on quick. Okay now for the questions.” I look at both of them in turn. “Were you going to kill the old ladies?” Subtle I am not.
They bobble head in the affirmative, confirming their death sentences.
“Thank you for being honest. Next question. Have you hurt women before?”
They both look a little hesitant about where I am going, their eyes drawn to the knife sticking out of the chair, but fear for their lives kicks in and they nod in the affirmative with less enthusiasm this time.
“This short survey has now concluded. Thank you for your honesty. I am like a human truth detector and I am glad to see you both answered truthfully. It would appear you both tallied a perfect score on the survey.
“The thing is, fucktards, I’ve had a really messed up couple of days where females haven’t been treated very nicely and then you came along and added to it.
“If you mess with us and what belongs to us…” I pause for effect. “Death can be your only reward. Congratulations! You get the golden tickets.” I stand up again when the stench of shit hits me. Somebody’s soiled their panties.
“So, you boys like a bit of Nine Inch Nails, I see.” I walk back over to the docking station and choose Head Like A Hole and turn the volume waaay up.
I come back over to my attentive audience and crouch down awkwardly to their level, eyeballing their shaking trussed up bodies as they wait for my next move.
I start pointing and mouthing, “Eenie… meenie… miny… mo!” I yank Blondie by the legs and drag him roughly across the dirty floorboards. I ain’t got time for the whole rhyme.
I take the nails out of my pocket, placing them on the floor in a neat row where Blondi
e can see them and then I yank the fucktard’s shoes and socks off while he tries to roll away from me, forcing me to twist both ankles hard enough to snap the joints. His muffled howls are swallowed up by the music as he slams his head into the floor in agony. I just found out who soiled themselves.
I ignore his pain and straddle his body, reverse cowboy style, to keep him still. I pull a couple of his hairy toes apart so I can get down to business. I pick up his shoe to use as a hammer and one of the nails and…
“I’m back, motherfuckers.” Mortician walks into the room, shouting over the music, a chilling grin on his face. “Missed me?”
Mortician
Abbreviated Torture
The music is blasting, so I just nod to Edge and light a cigarette, jamming it in the corner of my mouth and holding on to the lighter. I go to Otis. Sweat plasters his white dress shirt to his body as it hangs out of his waistband. His gray trousers are wrinkled and dirty. Filth and fear has ruined the pseudo gangsta look.
I get Edge’s attention and mouth the word, ‘knife’ to him and he pulls it from the chair and slides it across the floor to me. I grab a handful of shirt hem and slip the knife underneath the material, cutting it from tail to collar, then do the same with the white T-shirt he is also wearing.
No need for clothes where he’s going. Besides, they’ll only get in my way. I grin to myself as I slice his trousers away. Motherfucker goes commando.
By the time I’m finished, his eyes are pleading but he can’t talk with the tape over his mouth.
Ignoring the filthy fucking floor, I stretch out beside him and remove my smoke from my mouth to smile. I flick the wick of the lighter as smoke pours from my nostrils. “It’s a fucking sad, sad coward who fucks with defenseless women, especially old ones,” I say casually, close to his ear, so he can hear me over the music, taking a hit of my cigarette again.
A flame blooms from the lighter. I hold it under his chin for a few seconds. He’s wiggling and grunting, but he’s too trussed up to get away.
When Clubs Collide Page 37
