Clutch

by Drew Elyse

  “Next time, say something anyway. I might have fuckin’ lost my woman because I didn’t pick up on that shit.” Actually saying it made it feel way more real than I wanted to deal with. “I’d rather field bullshit that might be an issue than not even realize I’m walking through a field of land mines.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The rest of the drive, I tried to will myself to sober up. Whatever was up, it was a big enough deal to call me in right that moment rather than waiting. That probably meant it was something I should have a clear head for. Sober or not, a clear head wasn’t going to happen after that blow up with Cami, but I could try for somewhat coherent.

  Everyone else was sitting around the oak table, ready for church, when Ham and I rolled in. I dropped into my seat near the front where Stone was waiting to get started.

  “Nice of you to join us, princess,” he smarted. I respected him enough not to be a dick, but I met his eyes and made it clear I was in no fuckin’ mood. He jerked his chin in understanding before banging the gavel and calling things to order. “Jager, you’re up.”

  “The sedan sitting on the club properties belongs to a John McGowan,” Jager started. “Guy works as a PI and costs a fuckin’ mint. Shared his description with Andrews. Cop says he saw the guy meet up with the feds. Can’t say who would hire McGowan to get dirt on the club and hand it over, but it seems it’s time we found out.”

  Well, that sobered me up. Someone had it out for the Disciples. That meant two things: someone was not very smart, and we were now out for blood.

  “Anyone have any thoughts on who might go through that trouble?” Stone asked the room at large.

  “Doesn’t fit the M.O. of anyone we’ve dealt with before,” Tank answered. I nodded my agreement, but didn’t look at my brother. “Everyone we’ve dealt with would come after us themselves. No one else wants the feds involved any more than we do.”

  Stone rubbed at his temples. “With the run coming up, we don’t need this shit. I want eyes open at all times. Nothing we can do about the feds, but anyone gets McGowan in sight, I want him brought in. We need to know who that fucker is working for. Like yesterday. We clear?”

  Christ, just what I needed. Another issue to add to the pile.

  Walking out of the room a little later, I made a decided effort to avoid Tank. If he already knew I’d fucked things up with Cami, there was no good to come from getting too close. If he hadn’t, I was bound to give it away between my mood and the whiskey stench.

  “Gauge,” someone barked from behind me. Roadrunner was approaching. He walked right past me, nearly checking my shoulder on the way, and kept going. Fuck that. I followed him out a side door and continued a couple yards from the building.

  “You got a problem, brother?” I snapped.

  “Spoke to Cami,” he answered as he lit up a cig. “You weren’t answering, so I gave her a ring.”

  “Yeah,” I said as a way to keep him talking, though I knew I didn’t want to hear anything he was going to say.

  “What the fuck did you do, asshole? Known that girl her whole life and I ain’t ever heard her that broken.”

  Shit. No. I did not want to hear that. “What do you mean?”

  “Boy, you’re lucky I don’t knock your damn teeth out,” he informed me. Roadrunner was a lethal motherfucker, but I’d never heard him throw out threats against any of the guys. This was crossing into seriously fucked territory. “She sounded like she shut off all the lights inside. Fucking flat voice, no emotion at all. So I’ll ask again, what the fuck did you do to that girl?”

  “Not sure that’s your business, brother,” I emphasized to remind him we might all be in the club and he might have a higher rank, but that didn’t mean I had to bow to his fucking will. The Disciples were founded on the desire to leave civilian life and all its shit behind. No answering to someone about our personal lives, except Roadrunner seemed to be pushing for that.

  “You fucked over that girl, it’s a lot more than just my business I’m concerned with.”

  Like hell it was. “She’s my fuckin’ old lady,” I growled. “Only man here or anyone else who has any sort of claim like that on her besides me is Tank.”

  “Cami isn’t some bitch sniffin’ around to slum it with some bikers,” he reminded me.

  “You don’t think I know that?” Despite my behavior the night before, I did know that. And didn’t Roadrunner hit the nail on the head. Cami wasn’t “just some bitch” no matter what bullshit I’d spouted to her. Cami wasn’t a bitch at all.

  More than done with the conversation and all of Roadrunner’s accusations, I asked, “Do you know where she is?”

  “Not a clue,” he answered after a long pause. “She only told me she wasn’t with you. I put together a good amount of the rest on my own. When I realized Tank didn’t know shit, I figured she was with Deni. Slick said that’s not the case. She’s off the grid. We’ve got this shit going down, someone’s breathing down our backs, and you did something stupid to make that girl up and disappear.”

  Fuck.

  “You need to fix this shit,” Roadrunner said unnecessarily before walking away.

  Thanks for your fuckin’ help.

  I paced for a minute in the parking lot, taking drags on a cigarette and reminding myself I needed to cut back—which I’d meant to be doing for the last few months. Figuring there was nothing to be done standing around like a jackass, I got my now-sober ass in the car and left.

  At the edge of the property, I saw about the only thing that could bring a smile to my face. Black sedan, tinted windows, California plates.

  Game on.

  John McGowan was in his early fifties, greying at the temples, and kind of scrawny for someone tasked with stalking the club. Worked out pretty badly for him.

  “You want to answer my brother’s question?” Stone asked.

  McGowan was tied to a chair while Jager stalked around him with his favorite German-steel, bowie knife. Fucker might be quiet, but he was also a goddamn psycho. He trailed the tip of the blade along the duct tape on McGowan’s mouth. Little bitch bobbed his head so fast, I thought he might tip the chair over. For the sake of Jack, who would have to come out and clean the shed when we were done, I hoped he was man enough not to piss himself.

  Stone yanked the tape off and I got in the fucker’s face again. “Who hired you to watch the club?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to watch the whole club, just you,” the little shit answered.

  “What the fuck?” I was so surprised, Stone felt the need to step in and keep up the interrogation.

  “Explain. Now,” he demanded. Jager laid the flat side of the knife against McGowan’s throat to punctuate the point.

  “I was supposed to get proof he was doing something illegal. Anything to get him put away. Anything on the rest of you was a bonus,” little shit stain stuttered out to Pres.

  “Who hired you?” Stone pressed.

  Then, he said something I hadn’t for a fucking minute expected. “Nathaniel Wright.”

  So, Natey-boy wanted to strap on a pair of balls and take me on? Bad fucking move.

  “Why?” Stone asked, but I already knew the answer.

  “He said Gauge stole his woman.”

  Stone looked from the man going sickly pale in front of him to me. “This is about Cami?”

  I didn’t give him an answer. It was pretty obvious. I stood and moved around him, holding out my hand for Jager’s knife. The guy handed it over reluctantly. That blade was like his damn child. “Alright,” I said as I knelt in front of McGowan, “what’d you find?” I kept my eyes on the blade turning over in my hands, keeping his attention on it.

  “Nothing,” he sputtered out.

  “Nothing?”

  “I swear,” he insisted, “just a bunch of pictures of you with the hot brunette and pregnant blonde chick.”

  I growled at the mention of him taking pictures of Cami. “You wanna walk away from this, you turn over every fuckin’
shot you took. Feel me?”

  “Yes,” he jumped to agree.

  I considered him. He wasn’t green. He’d been in his business a long time, probably mostly used to hunting down cheating spouses. He was out of his depth with us. Even with the rope around him, he was shaking. There was no way he would have the balls to defy me. Still…

  “We’ll make sure of that,” I said.

  With one fluid motion, I brought the knife up and drove it into the back of his left hand, until the tip caught the wood beneath it. His screams ricocheted through the room. It was enough to have my head pounding.

  “Fuck, someone shut him up,” Stone bitched.

  Jager complied, cocking his arm back and nailing McGowan right in the temple. The guy was out instantly. His scrawny ass body was sprawled in the chair like a damn doll. Blood pooled on the ground below where his hand was still leaking around Jager’s knife.

  I was close to losing my goddamn mind. That self-righteous, testy shit didn’t even have the balls to confront me himself. He had to send the useless fuck out cold in front of me to do his dirty work. And Natey-boy sure could pick ‘em. How long had it taken the brothers to tag McGowan? It was almost immediate. The little shit couldn’t even pick a decent PI to get the job he wouldn’t do done.

  “Looks like we need to pick up Wright,” Stone threw out into the tense room.

  “He’s mine,” I declared.

  A couple grunts and nods answered, affirming my claim.

  “Someone get the prospect out here to clean up, and call Doc to see if he can come back down here to patch this guy up,” Stone instructed. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “I’m heading up to Wright’s place. Gonna see if Natey-boy’s home,” I said as we filed out of the shed.

  “You want someone with you?” Pres asked.

  “Nah. I’ve got this. I’ll call if I need backup.”

  I took the ride out to that soul-sucking slice of suburbia I found my Cami in. Or…not my Cami. Fuck if I knew. I was riding the wave of wanting to skin Natey-boy alive, which was all that kept me from driving back into town and tearing the motherfucker apart until I figured out where she was.

  I made a pit stop along the way to grab a ball cap and threw on the shades I kept in the glove box. The Chevelle wouldn’t draw as much attention as my bike, but it wouldn’t fit in either. I wasn’t planning to shoot the fucker on sight, but I couldn’t guarantee his safety if he got mouthy. It was best I kept my face covered. I could scrap the plates on the Chevelle if I had to.

  I pulled up and cut the sound on the Amon Amarth album I had playing, but the driveway was empty. I was wary of going to the door in case any of the uptight neighbors were the type to watch from their windows hoping for some gossip. I didn’t have much choice, though. It was knock on the damn door or go home.

  The first pattern of knocks came out gently. I had to clench my other fist to do it, but it was more likely he’d answer. Nothing. I waited, listening as best I could through the wood. No sounds, no movement visible through the windows. I pounded harder, paused to listen, went at it again. I kept going until my knuckles were aching. Either he wasn’t home, or he wasn’t going to open the door. I needed to split regardless. It was getting to be evening, which meant the suits would be coming home from work. I wasn’t getting anywhere without breaking in, and that was something I did not need an audience for.

  “You still sitting on it?” Stone asked over the phone.

  “Still here,” I answered.

  I’d been there over five hours, parked off the road in a wooded patch near the entrance to the community Wright’s house was in. I’d already scoped the place and established the only way in or out was the entrance about a hundred yards ahead of me. I hadn’t moved since I’d pulled my car into that spot, waiting for the jackass to get home. I was fucking starving, and my ass was sore from sitting around and watching for nothing. I still hadn’t slept since the blow up with Cami, who I had yet to contact.

  Finding Natey-boy gave me a purpose to focus on, and I was doing that full force.

  “Called Tank off Wright’s office already. Don’t think he’ll be coming your way,” Stone said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Finally got into McGowan’s phone. Last message sent was to a number we traced back to Wright. Message was just ‘61293’. McGowan’s still out from Doc fixing up his hand—fucking pussy—so he hasn’t confirmed, but we’re guessing it’s code for him being compromised. Text went out about the same time you got ahold of him,” Stone explained.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “Wright’s gotta be in the wind by now.”

  “Been on the line with Smoke. Sent a picture of Wright along. Couple of his boys are getting eyes on PDX. Can’t guarantee they’ll catch him if he tries to board, but they’ll do what they can.”

  If Natey-boy were smart, his ass would already be at 35,000 feet. He had the cash for a last minute plane ticket anywhere he wanted to go. He might not even need to hit a major airport like Portland. He’d probably be able to charter something smaller. “Might be a long shot. If he was going that way, he’s probably already gone.”

  “True enough, but you never know. Guy Tank described sounds like he might have his head solidly planted in his ass. Could be foolish enough to take his sweet time,” Stone countered.

  “Might be,” I said, not fully believing it. He might be a jackass, but I doubted he was that fucking touched in the head.

  “You heading back here?”

  I hesitated. What if Wright was fucking foolish enough to test his luck locally? He could think the hiding-in-plain-sight thing was a good plan. “Nah. Gonna stick around here for a bit. I wanna get in that house, make sure he isn’t trying to hunker down hoping the heat will cool.”

  “Alright. Be careful, huh? Don’t need you getting popped for B&E.”

  “I got it,” I insisted.

  Stone cut the call, leaving me in the silent cab of my Chevelle, waiting. I needed to wait until the neighborhood shut itself down for the night before I tried getting inside. Stone was right, getting caught breaking into the house of someone with Natey-Boy’s resources was the last goddamn thing I, or the club, needed.

  So, for the moment, I waited.

  I waited like that for another two and a half hours, watching the occasional late-coming luxury car pull into the subdivision. Mostly seemed to be men, probably dicks like Wright coming home late from getting some on the side. Never understood that bullshit, personally. You want to get it into more than one pussy, don’t go giving one your ring and settling down. That kind of pledge to a woman? That shit meant something. Now, you and your woman decide on some open-marriage deal, that’s all fine and good. Of course, I couldn’t imagine agreeing to my woman going off and getting the D from some other asshole, but hey, to each their own.

  It was dead quiet once I finally made my way back down Wright’s street. There were almost no lights to speak of in the windows, just single bulbs in decorative hangers next to the front doors.

  Driving down that street had me thinking back to the day I met Cami. I’d passed the same houses, having no idea the woman I was about to meet would change fuckin’ everything for me. There I was, driving the same way again to end Natey-boy’s retribution for taking her—and I didn’t even have her anymore.

  One fucking task at a time. Deal with Wright, then figure out how to get my girl back.

  I killed the headlights as I got near the house. My plan had been to park a little ways away to keep my car from sight, but the place was so dark, it would hardly be possible to see the Chevelle in the drive, let alone pick out the plates or my face. I pulled in, coming right up to the garage door before putting her in park. There were still no signs of life, but I had to be sure.