by Snow, Nicole
First thing I noticed was the broken glass all over the place. Someone had shot out the window – probably the gunshots I'd heard.
Joker leaned on the floor, bent over the old man, frantically pumping his granddad's chest.
I was about to drop down and help when I noticed the strange, round object perched on the bed. At first, it looked like a pumpkin in the shadowy darkness, but it was only July. Jack-o-lanterns weren't close to being in season yet.
Pushing the door just a little more so I could get light into the room, the shadows moved. Then I saw the detached face staring at me from the bed.
Joker's face, missing his brilliant hazel eyes. They'd been plucked from his head, leaving two neat spiderwebs of blood curling down his sunken cheeks.
Both my hands went straight to my mouth. I tried not to hyperventilate as I realized I was looking at Freddy's severed head, ripped from his body, mutilated in their own house.
Beneath me, the old man sputtered, gasping for breath, finally alive again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, thank Christ,” Joker groaned.
The next few seconds happened in slow motion like some kind of horror movie. He stood, shaking as he got up on his knees, his phone in one hand. He looked at his twin brother's severed head on the bed, and then turned to me slowly, wiping away the hot, brutal tear rolling down his cheek.
“Joker...Jackson...” I tried to say more than just his name, the only two I knew him by, but the words wouldn't come.
What the hell do you say to a man who's just lost everything? What the fuck could I possibly say that would mean anything?
“Get. Out,” He growled, stepping toward me until I backed away, filling the empty doorway with his huge body. “Old friend's coming to take you home.”
No, let me stay! I want to help! I thought, but my tongue was completely stiff when I tried to speak, my mouth hanging open like a total fool.
“Joker...”
“Do not fuckin' argue. You heard me,” he said, his warm, cocky voice turned into a killer's ice. “This ain't for you, babe. You don't belong here. You never did.”
Those cracks in my heart deepened. Split. Shattered.
Dashing out the door, I held in a scream, feeling the sharp pieces of my own heart clattering against my ribs, tearing me in two.
The rest of the night passed in a stupor. Somehow, I forced myself onto the porch, where I sat there and waited. Eventually, an old truck pulled up, and an older man wearing a military hat waved.
He asked me where I lived. I told him. Those were the only words we exchanged until he was at my door.
“Out,” he said, reaching past me to pop the door.
I turned, giving the asshole the dirtiest look I had. “Really? After all that, you fucking tell me to –“
“You've got ten seconds, doll, before I shove you out that door and take off. I don't ask the questions, just do favors when the club asks me. If you've got any sense in your pretty little head, you'll do the same.” He looked at me, his eyes dark and angry, like I was the biggest chore he'd ever had. “Go home. And don't you ever tell anybody what the fuck happened out there tonight.”
He had me. He won.
I couldn't deal with this shit. Not after what I'd seen, death and destruction, the love draining from the face of the man I'd started to believe in.
I didn't walk. I ran, all the way to my doorstep, jamming the keys in so hard I nearly snapped them in the locks.
Bed was my only sanctuary.
My face hit the pillows as soon as I was home. I buried it there, drowning in my tears, hoping they'd pull me completely under so I'd never have to wake up. When I did, it was going to be one long nightmare.
Oh, if only that hell was the end of it. I had no idea how terrible things were about to get.
* * *
Present Day
Three years this week. Three blinding, painful, monstrous years.
It seemed like it passed in the blink of an eye.
The days I cried for him, too scared to go anywhere near his grandfather's house. All the rumors I heard at work about the murder, the decapitation, the worst crime this town suffered for generations.
People talked about how they'd been scared shitless. But I also heard the relief in their voices after a few weeks, when they knew the crime was too big to bring any outlaws back to Seddon anytime soon.
And they were still talking, gossiping, holding their children a little tighter each night when I started to get sick.
Really sick. Every damned morning.
It took me a full week before I could manage to sit down with the pregnancy test, and prove what my body already knew. It only took a day after I saw that neon pink line staring me in the face to decide what I'd do.
I had to keep it. This baby was a miracle grown in darkness, and he deserved a chance to fight, no different from me or Joker.
Joker. Jackson. The devil and the Adonis stuffed into one mortal man, now somewhere very far away, shattered in his grief.
I didn't know if he was alive or dead. As much as my heart cared, my head didn't. Not anymore.
It took all my energy to keep myself from getting in my car and driving up to Knoxville. I knew it wouldn't be hard to find him if I did, somewhere at the Pistols' clubhouse.
I thought about it a thousand times. How I'd break the news, and plead with him to come home, or at least give me a space here so we could start a life together with our child.
But he wasn't Joker anymore. He wasn't the man who'd swept me off my feet and carried this town on the Taylors' strongman reputation.
The man who'd looked at me, spoken to me, and forced me out of that cursed house was someone else. Someone I'd never let myself truly recognize.
His eyes were so vacant. His voice, so cruel. Dead to the world, and to me.
It was like he'd lost his soul in the hot tear I'd seen rolling down his cheek. Our love had gone with it.
A man this broken couldn't be my lover. And he damned sure wasn't going to be a father to my son or daughter.
It wasn't just Piece who'd been killed and buried that night.
Joker, the man I'd begun to love, was dead. So were the pieces of my ruined heart, driven into the ground for good, one shard at a time.
All we had left was our suffering. Both of us alone, condemned to our private hell.
I didn't have to think hard to imagine what he'd become. No man who wore the patch let something like this go lightly. He'd be hellbent on revenge.
He'd be reckless. He'd live for nothing besides blood, until he got back at the men who killed Freddy, or they killed him, too.
All the reasons I didn't dare put myself and the baby between him and the monsters who'd consume him every waking minute.
I had to live my own life. Had to raise my son. Just had to forget the man who'd helped me create him.
That's exactly what I did for three numb, lonely years.
* * *
I was standing over Alex, still staring into the building's parking lot, when I heard the knock at the door.
My hand went to my chest, soothing my ferocious heartbeat.
Jesus. Who the hell could it be pounding away at this hour?
I checked to make sure the sound hadn't disturbed my baby too much. No, he laid there quietly, sleepy and peaceful as ever. Thankful for small favors, I moved out into the hall, my feet growing heavier with each step toward the door.
The bolt had fallen off the shoddy lock about six months ago. Now I really wished I'd bothered to replace it, especially when I cracked it open just enough to see the huge, dark silhouette standing there.
“Yeah? Can I help you, sir?”
He didn't answer with words. I was too stunned to scream when he shoved the door hard, slamming me into the wall. The door crashed against my shoulder and I fell over, bracing myself against the TV stand.
I was quick, but he was faster. The bastard wrestled me to the ground like nothing, his hand flying across my mouth
as he kicked the door shut behind him.
It slammed like a bullet. I heard Alex, startled awake, crying over the insane thud of my heart pounding my ears deaf.
“Listen to me, and listen fuckin' good, dolly. This is the way it's all going down, and you don't got a choice. You scream, I gut you here on the floor. You start crying, maybe I knock you the fuck out, and head straight for your kid's room. You're gonna lay there like a good girl, look at me, and keep your damned mouth shut. It's easy, long as you don't do nothing stupid. You follow?”
I did. He'd just threatened the only thing I cared about.
My fear turned into a supernatural calm, the kind a person probably has in the wild when they're being stalked by a lion.
“Good. Fuckin' knew it wouldn't be real hard to drill it through your skull.” He let me go and stood up straight. I got a good look at him for the first time.
Even though it was dark, I could see the patches. DEADHANDS MC, GEORGIA. PRESIDENT.
A huge severed gray hand was stitched on his side, identical to the one he had on his back. Red was all over his cut, like thick spatters of blood sewn into his leather, and so was a half-skinned cartoon skull with one eye hanging out.
He didn't look like much. Hair slicked back on his pony tail, a couple scars on his face, nothing I hadn't seen before in Uncle Robby's old bar.
Except for his eyes. One blue. One green. Both more sinister than anything I'd ever seen.
He was big. Mean. Brutal in every breath and every movement, a smug smile hiding behind his salt and pepper beard as he thumbed his switchblade.
“Let's talk business, doll. What I'm looking for is easier than a pig rolling in shit, and we can be best friends if you do me a solid.”
I put my hands on my knees, bracing myself, listening very closely without saying a word to this demon. I would've killed him if I thought I had a chance.
He had to know that.
It only made him smile wider as he slowly crouched, until his face was dead center with mine. “Name's Hatch. You don't know me, Summer Olivers, but I know you very fuckin' well. I know everything about anybody I want in this state, right down to the times they piss and fuck. My club's got eyes and ears fuckin' everywhere. You fuck up, you get a laser crawling across your tits. Only warning you get before a bullet blows through your heart. Or maybe you come home to find your brother's head hacked off and laying gutted on your bed, smiling from the holes where his eyes used to be...”
The asshole trailed off. My heartbeat quickened, taken back to that night when Freddy, Joker, and my last chance at a normal life died.
Murdered. Killed by this animal staring at me like a tiger. Hungry, taunting, and merciless.
“What?” I whispered. “How could you –“
“Don't play dumb. I know you were there, bitch, and so was that old man rotting away in a nursing home. So was your old boyfriend, Joker, now the Deadly Pistols' Veep. He's moved up in this old world, and left you in the fuckin' dust by the looks of it.”
God damn, he was good. Ripping open old wounds and rubbing salt in deep.
I kept my eyes glued to his, trying not to shake, not to cry, not to open up any weaknesses that would risk my Alex.
“Aw, come on, keep the waterworks off. I ain't here to patch up shit between fuck buddies. I'm here because you're bait.”
The only thing I'd ever hated more than this man was the single ruthless tear that finally escaped, rolling down my cheek. He reached out, catching it on his fingertip, staring at it like a bug he'd just caught.
My stomach turned when he raised a finger to his mouth, making a show out of licking it off. “Fuck, that's good. Makes me wanna do all the shit I came in here squawking about, especially with Betty G being so goddamned fuckin' hungry tonight...”
He held up his switchblade, shifting his fingers to the side, so I could see the name scrawled on it in a cursive script. Betty G.
Jesus, he was talking about his fucking knife like a person. Psychopath confirmed.
My eyes were bigger than the saucers stacked in my cabinet, just several feet away.
If he took a step toward Alex's room, I'd have to make a run for it.
I'd run, fling the cabinet open, or pull one of the knives from the block, whichever seemed easiest...
“Shit, little mama, don't worry your pretty head. I ain't here to fuck with you and the kiddo unless you say no to anything I tell you. That, doll, is a very, very, very fuckin' serious offense.” Smiling, he stood up, running the finger that had been in his mouth across the edge of the blade.
He winced, exaggerating his pain. “Ouch! Betty's been sharpened up. Bitch almost cut me, and I can't have her making me bleed all over your carpet.”
“Why?” I whispered, hearing my own voice from a hundred feet away. “Why are you here? I haven't seen or spoken to Joker for years. You have to know that's true.”
I couldn't take him toying with me a minute longer.
“Yeah, and thank fuck for that, Summer. He won't see you coming 'til you're right on his doorstep, shoving his kid in his face. He'll trust you. He'll open up. And that's when you'll find out every fuckin' thing I want to know about his club and feed it back to me, straight down the pipe.”
It all made sense now. And I wished to holy God it didn't.
“Don't, please,” I said, shaking my head, feeling more brutal tears rolling down my cheeks. “I'm not a spy. I just want to be left alone.”
He looked at me for a long second, his face turning white. Then he tipped his rough head back and laughed, so loud he made Alex cry harder in the other room.
“Okay, okay, okay.” Hatch shrugged. “Have it your way. I'll kill the kid first and throw your worthless fuckin' carcass on top of his.”
I lunged, wrapping my arms around his boot, before he could even take one step toward my baby's room. Alex screamed, bawling louder in the other room, as if he could sense the evil coming.
“No, no, no, please! I didn't mean it that way. I'll do anything you say. Anything. Just please...don't go in there.”
Hatch stopped, his boot halfway raised above my fingers. He looked down at me.
“Give me your fuckin' phone. Right now.”
I looked around, moving my shaking hand down to my pajama pocket. I pulled it out and handed it to him. His nasty face got nastier, twisting into a sadistic smirk as he hurled it against the wall so hard I heard it splinter. It left a dent in the wall, going out with a flash, before the pieces bounced on the carpet.
“Here's your new one,” he said, stuffing a newer, crappier flip phone into my hand. “You use that shit to check in with the only number on it. You see it ring, you drop whatever the fuck you're doing, and fuckin' answer. Even little Alex. Understood?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding painfully.
Yes. Somehow, someway, I'm going to fucking kill you, I thought to myself.
“Awesome. You're pretty smart for a bitch without a man,” he growled, turning around. “You leave tomorrow for Knoxville. We'll tell you the place you're staying when we hear you're on the road, and then you'll get the orders I know you're waiting for with baited fuckin' breath.”
“Okay. I understand,” I said, each word drying my throat like a desert.
“No, that's the shitty part, Summer, I don't think you do.” He looked at me as I blinked in confusion, his mismatched eyes shining. “I'm gonna walk out that door, get on my bike, and fuckin' leave you with your brat. You just stay on the floor for the next hour before you start cleaning up the mess.”
I stared at him dumbly as he licked he gazed straight through me. “This is the part where I get to have some fun, and show you how fuckin' serious this is so you don't do anything stupid.”
There wasn't any time to wonder what the hell he was talking about. His hand struck the side of my face like a head-on collision.
I blacked out before I even hit the floor.
4
Down and Dirty (Joker)
Sometimes I thoug
ht about what a fuckin' idiot I used to be.
Thought about that night I lost Piece, my grandpa lost his freedom, and I left behind the shithole town that had the only woman I ever gave a shit about fucking more than once.
Those thoughts drove me to the range, or else the closest bottle of good Tennessee brown honey.
Today was one of those fuckin' days. I'd just got outta church, listening to the Prez yammering about the latest big plans.
Bingo was on his leash. Had to hold him tight to keep him from galloping around like a tornado when he felt the wind brush his face.
The big hairy Irish Wolfound licked my face when I leaned down to put him on his chain. Damned dog loved to run all the fuck over, and we normally let him, but not anywhere the brothers were shooting their guns.
“Good boy,” I growled, reaching into my pack for a fresh bone. He barked excitedly as I tossed it on the ground in front of him, watching as he dug into it, happier than any creature had any right to be from something so fuckin' simple.
If I could still smile, that shit would've done it.
Didn't take much to please a dog, long as he was fed, stroked, and walked. Took a lot more to please a man.
Took even more to undo the bad shit. And good fuckin' luck ever wiping out the truly awful, tragic stain on a man's soul.
I hadn't figured out how. All I had was a release valve for the blinding rage out here.
Soon as my nine was in my hands, that demon energy flowed out of me, bit by bit. Flamed out in each and every bullet I fired at the torn wooden targets and weather mannequins we used for practice.
Taking aim at a half-cracked face peeking out behind some old boards, I fired. Missed. Gritted my teeth 'til they almost fuckin' broke and tried again.
Had to kill these venom thoughts, one shot at a time.
One bullet for the good times in Seddon, at Robby's old bar, places and people as done as this plastic motherfucker was about to be.
One more for the sick, sorry fucks who still owed a blood debt to me. They'd ripped apart the only fuckin' family I'd ever had, killed my twin brother, and burned him in a barbecue pit. Put the old man in a place where he couldn't take a fuckin' piss without some nosy cocksucker leaning over his shoulder.
