by Zoey Parker
Bax smiled. For a pampered rich girl, she sure had some balls on her.
“Likewise, I'm sure,” he called back.
Once Stef and the gangsters were gone, Bax turned to Mule, who stood near the check-in desk. “So! All in all, I'd say things are going well so far. I guess we should go to The Lucky Hand and meet up with the guys, huh?”
Mule raised his eyebrows and followed Bax out the door.
Chapter 12
Skull
Skull's forehead ached furiously where the paintball had hit it, and the streaks of red dye were already stiffening and cracking on his face. But he was so filled with glee that he didn't care. He hopped up onto the bar at The Lucky Hand, pantomiming a shotgun and bellowing theatrically.
“It's time for some motherfucking payback, you worthless dago bitches! We're here for the girl, and you can't stop us! Eat buckshot! Blam! Blam!”
The room erupted with laughter except for Chillie Millie, who stoically poured out shots of whiskey for herself and the others.
“How about Bax, huh?” Panda chortled, holding his sides. “The others are all cowering behind the car, and he's just standing tall like a badass, killing guys with each shot like he's fuckin' Dirty Harry or some shit.”
“My favorite part was Ash's Oscar-winning performance,” Bumper snorted. He clutched his chest dramatically, shrieking in a panicked falsetto. “'Oh, no! You wasted Skull! You scoundrels! You dirty rats!'”
“'They're just too much for us, guys!'” Ash chimed in merrily. “'We've gotta get out of here!'” He mimed hiking up a skirt and mincing away quickly, and several others followed suit.
Skull laughed so hard he fell off the bar, tears streaming down his cheeks as they turned purple. “Stop it,” he wheezed, slapping his knee. “I can't breathe!”
“Hey, how about that Mule, huh?” Bumper said. “Can you believe he switched out Silvio's gun without being noticed? Man, how does a guy that big have such fast hands?”
“Speaking of which,” David pointed out, “shouldn't he and Bax have made it back here by now?”
“Relax, they'll be here,” Tommy assured him. “Bax is probably buying himself a drink at every bar in the French Quarter, patting himself on the back.”
“He goddamn deserves it,” Skull said. He turned to Harry, touching his forehead and wincing. “Dude, those paint rounds sting like a sonuvabitch! You couldn't have made them any softer?”
“They were still fired out of a damn Desert Eagle,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. “What, did you expect them to feel like dandelion puffs? I thought you bikers were supposed to be tough. You're just lucky Bax is such a crack shot, or you could've lost an eye.”
The door opened and Bax walked in with Mule. Everyone in the bar applauded, and Skull put two fingers in his mouth, whistling loudly.
“You're finally here,” Tommy exclaimed, getting up from his seat and bringing shots of whiskey to the two men. “What took you guys so long?”
Before Bax could open his mouth, Mule answered. “He fucked her.”
The room fell silent immediately.
“Hey, what the hell is that?” Bax sputtered, sounding annoyed. “Come on, don't say shit like that. How did you...I mean...why the hell would you think that, anyway? That's...”
Mule looked at Bax darkly.
“Bax, that ain't true, is it?” Skull asked. His heart felt like it was dropping down an elevator shaft. They'd gone over the plan carefully, and this wasn't part of it. No, it sounded a lot like the kind of reckless stuff that Bax had gotten up to when they were still a couple of silly kids.
The stuff that generally got them into deep trouble.
“Of course it's not true,” Bax said. “Hey, just because I was alone with her for an hour, you think I can't control myself? You honestly believe I'd jeopardize this whole operation like that, just for a quick screw?”
David shut his eyes tightly, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ, Bax.”
Tommy leaned in close to Bax and sniffed twice. His eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth quivered with rage. “Holy shit. You did. You actually fucked her, you testa di cazzo, you stupid, selfish motherfucking stronzo—”
“Hey, hey, careful!” Bax protested. “I actually know what those words mean now, you know.”
Tommy kicked a chair, sending it flying across the room. “Goddamn it, Bax, can't you take anything seriously? What did I say to you, huh? What were my exact fucking words? Do not fuck this girl. Not this one. We've got millions of dollars on the line, and you're pissing it away just so you can get your balls drained!”
“You've really got to work on your mixed metaphors, there, Tommy,” Bax said. “Am I pissing, or am I draining my balls? I can't be doing both.”
“I should have known better,” Harry growled, slamming a fist on the bar. “I should have walked away from this the moment I saw it was you, because you always fucking do this. No matter what the score is or how many other people are involved, you always find some way to make it about you. But no, I got greedy and fell for your horseshit all over again...”
“Men,” Millie sighed bitterly. She poured herself a double shot of whiskey, draining it in one gulp.
“And you!” Tommy barked, jamming an accusing finger in Mule's face. “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on things. Why the hell would you leave him alone with her for an hour?”
“Couldn't exactly say anything, could I?” Mule asked.
“Guys, there's no need for any of this drama,” Bax insisted. “Okay, fine, I got caught up in the moment and went a little off-book. So what? Nothing has changed. The plan is still solid. If anything, it's even more solid now because she actually likes me.”
“This don't feel solid to me, Bax,” Skull said sadly. He knew big, tough bikers weren't supposed to have hurt feelings, but damn it, he had them just the same. “This feels bad. Like we can't rely on you to stick to the blueprint, so we'll all be sitting on one ass cheek waiting to hear about the next decision you made without telling us.”
Bax looked hurt. “How can you stand there and say you can't rely on me, Skull? Haven't we known each other since we were in second grade? Didn't I come running the minute you said you needed my help? Didn't I come up with a plan to get ten times your money back for you?”
“Yeah, but now you're making moves that go against that plan,” said Skull. “And for what? To get your dick wet? What is that?”
“I should have known better,” Harry repeated. “I should have realized that the only way you could ever keep your head during a scam is if someone milked you like a fucking dairy cow every morning.”
“Oh, and are you volunteering for that job, Harry? Because if so, thanks but no thanks.” Bax let out a frustrated sigh. “Look. Clearly, you guys just don't understand. Even if I went a little too far, the fact is, seduction is still a crucial component of this whole thing. I mean, Christ, it's the Spanish Prisoner con.”
“I don't give a flying fuck if it's the Chinese Dentist con,” Tommy snapped. “You had no right to take that risk on your own, and you know it.”
“So what, then?” Bax asked. “You guys want to just pack it in and forget the whole thing? You want to walk away from all that money and let these greasers shit all over you whenever they feel like it? Because it sure sounds like that's what I'm hearing.”
The others exchanged glances uncertainly.
“I think we can still do the rest of the plan,” Skull said. He felt an uncertain twinge in his gut, but he couldn't help it. He and Bax went back too far, and he badly wanted to feel like he could trust his old friend despite this lapse in judgment. “But I'd say you owe everyone in this room your solemn promise that you'll stick to the script from now on.”
“Oh, his 'solemn promise?'” Tommy blurted out. “What, like cross his heart, stick a needle, all that shit? You must think we're all in second grade, if you expect us to fall for that load of crap.”
“I expect Bax to be the honorable man I know he rea
lly is, behind all the bluffing and bullshit,” Skull said evenly. “We go back too far for me not to.”
Bax nodded. “Absolutely. Thank you, Skull. That means a lot to me.”
Tommy threw up his hands, exasperated. “We're going along with this fiasco? Fine. But from now on, Bax, you do not spend one second alone with that girl. Period.” He turned to Mule. “If he tries to send you away again, hoof him in the fucking balls.”
“Suits me,” said Mule.
“All right,” Skull said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Glad we've got that sorted out. So what's next, Bax?”
“You'll need to find us a brick of heroin,” Bax told him. “As pure as you can find. And you can't get it from anyone who could get word back to Altamura. This has to be completely off the grid.”
Skull thought for a moment. “There's a guy over in Mississippi who might be able to sell it to us. But it's still not gonna be that pure—my guess is, he'll have stepped on it at least three or four times by then.”
“That's no problem. We can make it work.” Bax turned to Millie. “How about it, Chills? Are you ready to bust out your chemistry set?”
Millie grunted her assent, pouring another drink for herself.
“That ain't the only thing.” Skull shifted his weight nervously. “Scoring that much H is gonna cost us. Big-time. And we already chipped in for your suit, and for the hotel room—”
“Consider all of it an investment,” Bax grinned confidently. “By the time this is all over, you aren't going to care what anything costs anymore.”
Skull wanted to believe him.
Except now, deep down, he wasn't quite so sure.
Chapter 13
Bax
Two days later, Bax sat at a work table in a warehouse in Raceland, less than an hour's drive from New Orleans. The Lucky Hand was shuttered, with a sign on the door saying “Closed Until Further Notice.” The bar had functioned as an immediate rendezvous point following the staged attack on Stef, but the next logical step was to make it seem abandoned, in order to convince Altamura and his men that any remaining Devils had skipped town. Skull had slipped the warehouse's owner some cash to let them use it for a few weeks, and the MC made it into a temporary base of operations.
They'd also made a firm rule: Until this scam was over, no member of the Devils was allowed to wear his cut or even ride his motorcycle, and all of the bikers were strictly forbidden from setting foot in New Orleans. All it would take was for one of them to be recognized—if word got back to Altamura, he could pounce on that Devil and torture him into giving up the location of the others.
As most of the Devils sat in another section of the warehouse with Mule—drinking beer by the case, watching TV, and having belching contests with each other—Bax watched as Chillie Millie set up the chemistry supplies she'd bought in Baton Rouge the previous day. The array of burners, funnels, and chemicals made the corner of the dusty room look like a section of Dr. Frankenstein's lab. Tommy, David, and Harry observed this scene as well.
“Were you able to pick up everything you'll need?” David asked.
Millie examined one of the tall glass beakers, polishing it meticulously with a small square of fabric. “It'll do.”
“I still don't see why someone like you would buy all-new equipment in every place you go,” Tommy mused. He removed a chocolate bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and took a big bite as he wandered over to Millie's setup. “Why not just bring your own kit with you?”
Based on the look Millie gave Tommy, Bax figured that must have been one of the dumbest questions anyone had ever asked her. “Do you travel around with a big suitcase full of evidence from the crimes you've committed?”
Tommy blinked. “No, I guess not. I never thought of it that way.” He licked chocolate from his fingertips, reaching for a funnel. “What does this stuff even do, anyway?”
Millie's thin fingers clamped around Tommy's wrist. “It gets busted over your head if you try to touch it with your grubby hands.”
“Okay, okay!” She released Tommy's wrist, and he rubbed it. “Jesus, your hands are like ice, you know that?”
“Poor circulation,” she sneered. “It's how I got my nickname. Or did you think it came from my warm, sunny disposition?”
Tommy shook his head, returning to his seat next to Bax. “You've got problems, lady,” he grumbled under his breath.
There was a series of five rhythmic knocks high on the door, followed by a pause and five more knocks lower down. The coded knock was Skull's idea—a crude approximation of the first few bars of “All Along the Watchtower.”
Harry unlocked the door and Skull entered, carrying a shopping bag. In place of his usual outlaw duds, he wore a new pair of jeans and an ugly sweater.
“I can't believe you've got me riding around in a rental car like some half-assed cager,” Skull said, dropping the bag on the floor. “And in this stupid outfit, no less. I may as well have had James fucking Taylor playing on the radio.”
“Hey, low profile means low profile,” Tommy snapped. “You get seen and I get dead, remember? No one recognized you, did they?”
“Not 'til I met up with Whitman over in Hattiesburg. Once he was done laughing his ass off at my clothes, it took a lot to convince him we weren't going to use his stuff to set up shop for ourselves down here. He knew it wasn't for recreational use, since using junk is against club rules.”
“So what did you tell him?” Bax asked.
“I said we were gonna use it to set some guy up for possession with intent.” Skull opened the shopping bag and took out a brick of heroin wrapped in clear plastic. “He wasn't thrilled about us using his stuff to do that, so it cost extra.”
Millie took the brick from Skull, examining it carefully. “Hmm. Some serious color impurities, and a significant amount of particulate matter. Whatever you paid for this, it was too much.” She carried the brick over to a plastic bucket and pried off the round plastic top, revealing a clear liquid inside.
“What's that?” Harry asked.
Millie dug her thumbnail into the plastic wrapping of the brick, prying it apart to expose the powder beneath it.
“This is water,” she said, dumping the heroin into it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Skull shrieked. He ran to the bucket just in time to see the heroin dissolve into it. “Do you have any idea how much that's worth?”
“Nothing compared to what it'll be worth in a few hours, I assure you.”
Skull turned to Bax, his face red. “What the hell is this crazy bitch talking about?”
Bax smiled, slapping Skull on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Relax, Skull! You're about to watch an act of absolute alchemy. You've heard of spinning straw into gold? Well, Chillie Millie is going to turn this stepped-on garbage into the purest junk you've ever seen.”
“Bullshit,” Skull growled. “No one can really do that. It's a fucking urban myth.”
“Then I guess I must have gotten my degree in mythology instead of chemistry,” Millie said calmly, “because that's exactly what I'm going to do.”
“Okay, fine.” Skull walked over to where Bax and the others had been sitting, grabbed a chair, turned it around backwards, and straddled it. “Show me.”
Millie eyed Skull and the others balefully. “You really expect me to do this for an audience? This isn't an episode of Bill Nye, you know. I'll be working with dangerous chemicals.”
“Relax, Millie,” Bax said. “You're a pro. I'm sure having us around won't affect your work one bit.”
“All right. But stay quiet, keep your distance, and no smoking. If you light up around these fumes, you could kill us all. And remember, kids—don't try this at home.”
Millie put on rubber gloves and a pair of safety glasses. Then she took a long, thin strip of paper from her equipment. It had colored sections on it. “We'll be monitoring this process using these pH strips.”
She dipped one into the water and pulled it out, checking it with a nod. “Ye
p, that's what I expected. Very weak. So we're going to add sodium hydroxide, or lye, to the solution.”
“Lye?” Skull asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Shit, don't they use that as acid to dissolve roadkill and corpses and stuff?”
“Yes.” Millie unscrewed a plastic jar labeled “Caustic Soda.”
“But ain't that poison?”
She glared at him. “It's all poison. Now shut your mouth or leave the room. I'm not exactly making banana smoothies here. I need to be able to concentrate.”
Skull nodded, folding his arms over his chest.
Millie carefully measured out the white crystals of lye, dropping them into the bucket. She stirred the mixture with a glass rod, then pulled it out and touched the tip to another pH strip. She grunted quietly and repeated the process a few more times until she was satisfied with the results.
