by Nikki Pink
I’ve heard a lot worse than that. “Well maybe you can find a missing dog or something.”
He laughed as if I’d said something very funny, apparently not realizing I was mocking him.
“That might make me more popular.”
I took a big sip of my drink. “So.”
“So?”
“You brought me here.”
“Right. Well, I wanted to say I was sorry. That’s all. I was out of line.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. And I thought it’d be nice to have coffee with you.”
Are you fucking kidding me? “What do you mean?”
“You know. We could do it again, if you like. Have coffee. Or dinner.”
Is this guy for real? “I don’t date guys who call me a hooker, sheriff.”
He frowned. “I told you, I’m sorry about that. Surely you can understand I’d had a rough night.”
I shook my head, not saying anything. His look turned cold and a chill ran through me. Uhoh. He looks mad. I wasn’t prepared for what he did next.
“You’re happy to let a biker club gangbang you, but you’re too good for me? Slut. You filthy, fucking, slut.”
I gasped at his sudden change in demeanor and my head swung around wildly as I looked to see if anyone else had heard what he’d just said. They hadn’t.
He leaned in close. I leaned away, pressing my back against the booth’s cushioned partition. He rose to his feet and leaned over the table, his face next to mine. Spittle flicked across my face and his sour breath washed over me as he spoke.
“I gave you a chance slut. You could have had me. Me.” His finger jabbed his chest. “But you choose them? Whore. You’re a whore. And they’re going to ruin you. Those degenerate fuckheads are going to break you, use you up and toss you in the trash. And I’m going to watch.”
His eyes were wild as he jabbed a finger into my chest. “I’m going to watch what you become, and when you coming crying to me for help I’m going to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. And you will come crying to me. Oh yes you will. You’ll come crying, and begging, and pleading for help. But you won’t get it. Not from me. Fuck you.”
He jabbed his finger into me one final time before stalking away. I looked around the diner but no one had seen a thing.
I don’t know how long I sat there shaking. I held the cold coffee cup in my hands as I ran through the events over, and over again. What could I have done differently?
When I had calmed down somewhat I came to the conclusion that the sheriff was an asshole, and quite possibly a crazy one at that.
He’d left me at the diner alone without a ride back. It was too far to walk; the only thing to be done was to call someone. I considered calling Jase, but I’d been avoiding his calls all week. I’d look like a bitch if I called him up to ask for a ride.
I sighed when I realized what I needed to do.
“Can you call me a taxi?” I asked the waitress. She gave me a strange look — she’d probably never been asked that before.
I drank another cup of coffee while I waited. It took an hour before the car finally pulled up, and for the second time in a week I found myself heading home in a taxi after another bizarre meeting with the local sheriff.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jase
The long-haired bearded man looked him up and down. “What the fuck is this shit? I told ‘em I wanted a nineteen year old with big tits.”
Jase grinned at Bigfella. “I don’t think there are many nineteen-year old big breasted lawyers Bigfella.”
He grunted in disappointment.
Jase sat down on the chair opposite. “We’ll get you a real lawyer soon, a good one. But for the moment you’ve got me. I wanted to speak to you without every other fucker in the visiting room listening. So I’m your legal representation for now.”
Bigfella clapped him on the shoulder, he seemed pleased. “Fuckers can’t listen in here, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m sorry Jase. I shouldn’t have beaten that guy so hard. I fucked up. But he was trying to kill me.” The older man sighed.
He gave a reassuring smile. “We all would have. When someone comes at you with a goddamn knife you don’t fuck around. It’s kill or be killed.”
“I know. It pisses me off though. The assholes dropped the charges on the murder of the Mexicans.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah the bitch from before finally made her statement.”
“So now you’re just in here because of that Mexican fuckhead who tried to stab you?” Jase shook his head at the unjustness of it all.
Bigfella nodded, his beard swinging. “Yep.”
Jase sighed. “Things have been pretty crazy the last couple of weeks.”
“They sure have.”
Should I tell him about the deal with the Koreans? Of course I should. It’s why I came here today, isn’t it? “Things have changed. Even since you got in here. We’ve made some decisions.”
Bigfella nodded. “As you have to. You’re in charge now.”
“Me and the Doctor.”
His half-smile was somewhat quizzical. “Yeah. But. You’re in charge, right?”
“I don’t know. I mean, no, I guess. What with Brodie, and you, I kind of let Doc take the lead. I just wanted to get revenge.”
Bigfella ran his fingers through his beard as he spoke. “Look, I know we ended up in that ridiculous situation of having two VPs,” he spat into the corner of the room before continuing, “but back then we didn’t know how things would be. Fuck. I should have seen it coming, put a stop to it. We could have done without one for a while…”
A surge of pride ran through Jase. It meant a lot to have the old man say that, to express his confidence in him. And to say that he should be running the club. “Thanks. I’ll let the Doctor know.”
Bigfella frowned. “But shit, I’m in here still. I don’t get to make the decisions. You gotta’ sort this on your own. It’s up to you, but you put two captains on a ship you’re gonna’ end up on the rocks.”
Jase nodded. One more thing to deal with. And I still haven’t told him about the drugs. “Listen. There’s another reason I wanted to speak to you in private. We’ve made some decisions I think you should know about.”
Bigfella sighed. “You did? The Doctor did? The club did?”
“The club. All of us. We—”
Bigfella didn’t let him finish. “If you made the decision and it passed the vote then it’s done. I told you. When I’m in here I’m nothing.”
“But—”
Bigfella shook his head. “I don’t want to know. Really. I don’t want to know.”
He knows. Jase let out a sigh. “Okay. We’re going to get you out though. We’re gonna’ find the best goddamn lawyer and prove it was self-goddamn-defense.”
The older man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “One with big tits, right?”
Jase laughed. “Of course, that’s the most important qualification,” he joked.
Bigfella looked at him grinning. “You know what else we’re going to do?”
“What?”
“We’re gonna sue these motherfuckers. Putting me in that position? Fuck, that’s gotta be worth, what, ten million?” His grin was broad. “A hundred million? This time next year son, we’re gonna be on a big fuckin boat with some big booty young bitches and some old-ass whisky.”
Jase laughed. “I hate fucking boats.”
“Not when we’re sailing like that you won’t. Then maybe a club ride. A club ride across the entire US-mother-fuckin-A.”
They laughed together before settling into quiet contemplation.
When Jase left his mood was melancholy. It’s never going to happen, is it? Can it? He’d wanted to tell Bigfella so much more, to ask his advice, to get his guidance. But the older man hadn’t wanted to give it. It was up to Jase to make the decisions now.
He headed off back to the clubhouse, his mind running a mile a minute. So much shi
t to do. Move the Doctor out of the big seat, find this Carlos character, make the schedules for next weekend’s security work, start thinking about Lonnie’s show, and… Nicole. What happened to you Nicole? What are you doing? Why don’t you answer the phone?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jase
Gauge had the kind of glint in his eye that showed he was very pleased with himself. And when Gauge was pleased with himself it probably meant someone else was most decidedly displeased.
He grinned at Jase. “Got him.”
“Got him?”
“Yep.”
“I thought you were just going to stake him out, come up with a plan…” Jase had his eyebrows raised. He wasn’t exactly angry, but he was a bit surprised. He and Bottle had asked Gauge’s advice on how to get to this Carlos character they’d heard about, with the intention of grabbing him together. But it seemed Gauge had taken matters into his own hands.
“I came up with a plan. But then the greasy little fucker practically threw himself at me. Like a teen girl at a Duran Duran concert.”
“Who the fuck is Duran Duran?” asked Bottle.
Gauge frowned as he realized his reference was dated. Jase chuckled.
“So where is he?”
“I put him in storage. At my place.”
In storage? “Did he, like, see you?” asked Bottle.
“Ah. Well. A bit.”
Jase and Bottle both raised their eyebrows. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Gauge grinned. “I was thinking about the plan. And I think I made it better. Tell me what you think.”
“Go on…” Jase glanced at Bottle, who looked a little annoyed. It was his plan originally. And now Gauge was messing with it. Still, if it helps…
“So, the plan was to make those fuckers think we were a Mexican cartel running their shit, right?”
“Right…”
“Well we do that. But, that plan relies entirely on Bottle. No one else speaks Mexican like him.”
Bottle nodded. Jase knew he was pleased to be not just useful, but vital for once.
Gauge continued, “It’s a good plan. But it means Bottle’s gonna have to be there 24/7. Always fuckin’ on. That ain’t fair on him.”
“It’s okay, I can—”
Gauge didn’t let Bottle finish. “So here’s what I think we should do. We let those fuckers think Bottle is the king fucking pin, but that he’s using the club. He’s hired a bunch of dumb gringoes to be his bitches.”
Jase thought about it. He had been worried that Bottle would have too much to do, pretending to be an entire cartel all by himself. Maybe this could work.
Gauge continued, “We let those fuckers think that our jefe, Bottle, is so fuckin busy running the entire south-west that he’s letting the club distribute for them. That way we can use some of our boys for security, deliveries, shit like that.”
Jase nodded. It made sense. Constantly kidnapping and blindfolding everyone they wanted to speak to would get tiring after a while.
“So what did you show that Carlos?”
Gauge laughed. “Nothing except the skin of my arms as I grabbed him. But he heard me speak in English to him.”
“So we don’t really have much choice now, anyway?” Bottle asked, his voice irritated.
“Sorry. It slipped out. We could always get rid of him, I’m sure some other shithead will float to the top, if you want to stick with the original plan.”
Jase looked at Bottle who shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. “Let’s give it a try.”
“Let’s go see this fucker.”
***
When they got to Gauge’s trailer there was no sign of the Mexican as they entered.
“Where is he?” asked Jase.
Gauge grinned and looked up. Above the built-in table in the kitchen-area was a wide storage cupboard. Gauge reached up and pulled it open.
Storage. Indeed. Taped up inside was a pissed off looking man. Gauge reached up and gave the man a yank with his left hand, pulling him out. He made a sound that was probably a scream as he tumbled down, bouncing off the table and onto the floor. When he hit the table it let out an ominous cracking sound which caused Gauge to wince. Jase sensed he was wincing for the table, not the man.
They dragged the squirming man outside and taped him to one of the oil barrels full of holes they’d previously used for target practice. Jase and Gauge pulled on ski-masks to cover their faces, while Bottle stood behind the oil barrel, out of sight.
Gauge unslung the rifle he had over his shoulder, and Jase pulled out the handgun that had been tucked into his belt. They both pointed their weapons at Carlos as Bottle reached over and yanked off the tape that had been covering his eyes.
The young Mexican blinked his eyes several times trying to adjust to the harsh light outside. When he was finally able to focus he let out a moan as he saw the two leather-jacketed and faceless bikers pointing their weapons at him.
No one spoke, except possibly Carlos, but under the tape it was impossible to tell whether he was moaning, squealing, pleading, or giving a lecture on Nietzschean philosophy. It probably wasn’t philosophy.
After letting him simmer for a minute, Bottle silently leaned over so his mouth was next to his ear. “Buenos dias!” he yelled and let out a peel of laughter.
Carlos twisted his head around and smacked it against the hollow oil barrel causing a dull ring. He couldn’t see Bottle.
Jase grinned underneath his mask at the squirming guy in front of him. Bottle began to speak in rapid-fire Spanish. Jase had never known just how fluent Bottle was until now. While it had certainly been good enough to fool the owners of the house they had invaded, he’d been afraid that it wouldn’t hold up under more lengthy analysis.
He droned on and on. Hurry up Bottle. The gun in his hand began to get heavy. He looked over at Gauge. The man was a rock. His rifle was still expertly shouldered, unmoving as it pointed directly at the head of the tied-up man. Jase sighed, giving up the idea of putting his gun away.
The demeanor of their victim began to change as Bottle spoke. His earlier terror seemed to change to excitement as he realized he wasn’t about to be murdered, and that in fact he was being offered the opportunity to be a real gang leader and make some real money too.
Finally Bottle reached over and untaped his mouth. Although Jase couldn’t understand the words he could sense the respectful tone Carlos was using. Everything is going right for once.
***
“Finally.”
The sun was beginning to set after they dropped Carlos off. It had been a long day. Gauge and Jase were in the front of the truck, while Bottle had presumably made his way to the clubhouse where they were to meet. He’d remained out of sight the entire time, a shadowy cartel leader in the eyes of the impressionable Carlos.
“What do you think took so long?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know. But you saw the look on Bottle’s face, right? I don’t think it was anything bad.”
Jase nodded.
The rode back to the clubhouse in silence. Neither Jase nor Gauge was much of a talker at the best of times, and today they were both trying to process the conversation they’d witnessed but not understood earlier.
CHAPTER NINE
Eag
The meeting should have been underway by now, but for once he wouldn’t be there. This was much more important. He sat in the bushes observing the unlit house. The Doctor had left twenty minutes earlier and there hadn’t been any other sign of movement since.
It’s now or never. Eag stood up and headed down the side of the building to the back of the house. He’d only been here once before, when he and the Doctor had stayed up late making their original plans. Brodie didn’t die in the original plan.
He easily broke in by removing a screen from a downstairs window. The house was silent. It was just how he remembered it — it looked completely un-lived in, like a model home designed by a robot. Every surface was spotless, every item on display w
as lined up just so, and there wasn’t a hint of a dust bunny on the hardwood floors.
Eag didn’t bother with the downstairs rooms, he’d come back to them if he didn’t find what he needed. He headed straight for the doctor’s office on the second floor, directly next to the master bedroom.
Although the house was silent it had an uncomfortable feeling. It was too modern to feel haunted, but it definitely felt like there was something off. It was too big for one man to live in alone.
The office was the only room in the house that looked somewhat lived in. There was a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label on the desk and a rock-glass with the barest trace of whisky still staining the bottom. That was about the only sign of life in this otherwise model house.
Even the computer on the desk looked like a prop. But it wasn’t. It was what Eag had come here to use. He sat down in the surprisingly comfortable office chair and opened up the super-slim laptop.
He swallowed nervously as the desktop appeared. He couldn’t see how this was going to end well. If he found what he was looking for then everything was over. If he didn’t find it? Well, then there’d be the worry that he’d missed something. Why did it come to this?
Doc hadn’t seemed right the other day. In fact he’d been getting more and more unpredictable. Some might even think there was something crazy about him, and Eag was definitely one of those people. They’d been close once, but since they put their money making plan into action things had changed. Doc had begun to act as if he was above Eag, as if he was above everyone in fact. Better than them, smarter than them. Maybe he is smarter.
“No…”
Eag looked at the screen, his eyes blinking.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He couldn’t believe it. He’d suspected it, but he hadn’t really thought it could be true. But there it was. And it wasn’t even hidden. That arrogant asshole had left it out in plain view. He’d obviously not even considered that someone would get suspicious, that someone might find this stuff.
With his jaw clenched tight Eag clicked to play the file. It was labeled Eag Confession. He didn’t want to hear it, but he had to.
