Black Jack

by A Parker

  “Get him off my property, Jack,” Grant growled.

  Mason, who stood close by nursing his already bruising knuckles, sighed heavily. “I told you they wouldn’t want to listen.”

  Joker scoffed. “Listen to a plan that involves a traitorous little bitch like Rat? Yeah, no thanks. We can do better, Black Jack. Way better.”

  Some of the others nodded, especially Suzie, who kept a wary eye on Hogey as if she expected him to burst into a huge pile of shit right there on the porch.

  “Hogey isn’t an ideal option,” I agreed with them, “but he’s the only resource we have right now against Bates. He’s offered to help us make a move on the Wolverines and their operation. You don’t have to like him or trust him, but you do have to trust me.” I met each one of their eyes evenly. “This is a risk worth taking. I’ve weighed the odds. Hogey has connections that will give us more manpower, and if we want to beat Bates, that’s exactly what we need. More men. More bikes. More guns.”

  Snake stroked his chin. “At what cost?”

  “Yeah,” Tex agreed. “What’s the trade off?”

  I could feel Mason’s eyes on my back.

  Hogey turned to me before leaning over the railing to spit brown tobacco juice onto the grass below.

  “Don’t,” Grant growled.

  Hogey held up his hands innocently. “Sorry, sorry, never took you for a pompous prick who’d keep a green lawn, Toke. When did you turn into such a little priss?”

  Grant took a menacing step forward, but Gabriel stopped him with a hand in his chest and glowered at me. “Explain why he’s here, Black Jack.”

  “Before I strangle him with his own tongue,” Grant hissed.

  Mason gave me an I-told-you-so look and accepted an ice pack from Susan, who’d ducked inside. She stood beside him while he held the pack over his knuckles and muttered something under her breath the rest of us couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it made Mason smile.

  My men waited for me to speak.

  “We’re going to ambush Bates and his boys on the road,” I began. The words were met with silence, even from Hogey, who listened patiently while he chewed. “Hogey and his boys will ride in first and disorient Bates and his entourage. Chaos is the most important ingredient here. Hogey and his men will force them off the main roads, if that’s where we catch up with them, and we’ll go somewhere isolated. Somewhere we can control the damage.”

  Hogey nodded. “The tracks ideally. Or down by my storage property. Anything away from businesses and houses.”

  “Never expected something sensible to come out of your mouth,” Tex grumbled.

  Hogey couldn’t hear him, probably over the sound of his own obnoxious, wet chewing.

  I continued. “If anyone hasn’t put two and two together, we’re plotting to murder a dozen men. This is a high-risk job, and if any of us get caught, your sentence is going to be life in prison. Hogey, too. He’s got a lot riding on this just like we do, and if he helps us pull this off, we will be indebted to him.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Chips said.

  Mason rolled his wrist. “It gets worse.”

  “What’s his compensation?” Chips asked.

  This was the part I knew wouldn’t go over well, but it had to be said. “If Hogey and his men are instrumental in our takedown of Bates and his men, I’ll be inviting him back into the club.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “Fucking Rat can’t be trusted!”

  “Have you lost your damn mind, Jack?”

  Hogey pouted. “And here I thought I might get a bit of gratitude.”

  “Shut the hell up, Rat,” Mason said.

  “Can’t,” Hogey said. “I have one more condition.”

  The men growled like a pack of rabid dogs and I turned to Hogey, who I had a good half a foot over height-wise. He tilted his head back and blinked up at me but I had to give him credit for not shrinking away.

  “And what the fuck might that be?” I challenged.

  Hogey’s voice started weak but grew with confidence as he spoke. “The girl. Caroline. I want her and any other monetary gains from Bates me and my boys can take with us after we snuff him out. That’s a full sweep of his house and businesses, Black Jack. Before any of your boys set foot in them. Like you said, this is a high-risk job, and I’ve got a lot to lose. I gotta have something to gain.” He rubbed his sweaty little hands together. “Caroline is all mine though.”

  Knox, who’d been quiet for the entire exchange, stepped up beside me. “We don’t treat women that way. She’s not property to be claimed. She might be a hellcat and a bitch at that who’s as dangerous as her old man, but we can’t hand her over to scum like this.”

  “Fuck you,” Hogey said.

  Knox ignored him. “I want the bastard dead as bad as you, Jack, but there are some lines we just shouldn’t cross.”

  I studied Hogey, who puffed up like a balloon and clenched his fists at his sides. “If I ain’t getting the girl, I don’t want nothing to do with you fucking clowns. You see this shit?” He flashed us the inside of his forearm, exposing his messy and scarred flesh where his tattoo used to be. Now it was a mess of raised pink flesh and ink. “You fuckers did this to me. I might have been a thief, but this mark ruined every opportunity I ever had after the club because nobody wanted anything to do with me. You think I have a shot with a bitch I didn’t pay for? If I help you take down Bates, I want my time with his daughter.”

  “She’ll murder you in your sleep,” I told him.

  He grinned like Satan, if Satan were a fat and stout little man in the poorest part of Reno. “Sounds like a terribly good way to die.”

  Chapter 29

  Samantha

  Toes weaved between my legs as I pulled a chilled bottle of white wine out of my fridge. Jackson hardly struck me as the type of man who might choose to sit down for a glass of Chardonnay, but he’d have to meet me in the middle. Sure, I was a big beer girl, but beer couldn’t compete with the romance of a glass of wine on a summer evening with the windows open and Marvin Gaye playing on my dad’s old record player.

  Toes meowed dramatically.

  “This isn’t for you,” I told him.

  He sat down between my feet and slow-blinked his amber eyes at me. I’d once read an article claiming this was how cats told you they loved you, so I slow-blinked back, and immediately he started to rumble with purrs.

  I smiled. “You’re such a suck, you know that?”

  Tonight would be a good night. I’d already decided so an hour ago after all my staff went home. We’d gotten a little buzzed, some of us more so than others, and I’d had to make sure everyone arranged safe rides home. We’d said some tearful goodbyes even though I was sure we would see a lot of each other while the bar was shut down. Nevertheless, there was still something sad about us losing our right to work because it was unsafe.

  Sad and infuriating.

  In my gut I knew I’d made the right choice, so I had a calm mind after I came upstairs and began getting ready to wine and dine Jackson tonight. I doubted anyone in his life had planned a date night for him, and even if this wasn’t his speed, he deserved a bit of pampering after the day he’d likely had.

  Spending any amount of time with Hogey Hughes was a cruel and unusual punishment, but having to work with him?

  The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Under no circumstances would I ever want to spend five minutes in a room with Hogey. He was painfully unhygienic, misogynistic, narrow minded, and slimy. He had connections with people as unsavory as him and I hated that Jackson had to invite him back into the fold to get his help, but I hoped it would pay off.

  It had to pay off.

  I checked the time on the stove. It was just after seven o’clock. Jackson had told me he’d be back tonight but we’d never really settled on a time. Perhaps I was being a bit ambitious already pulling the wine out of the fridge.

  I poured myself a glass and caught Toes watching me with judgment.


  “What?” I asked. “I’m allowed to drink my own wine while I wait. Mind your own business.”

  He stood up and stalked off with his tail raised straight in the air.

  I put the wine bottle back in the fridge to keep it cold until Jackson arrived, and was about to go open the living-room window when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Giddy, I rushed back to the fridge, pulled the bottle of wine back out of the fridge yet again, and set it down beside my full wine glass and his empty one, along with the small charcuterie board I’d put together of specialty cheeses, meats, and several types of crackers.

  He tried the handle but I’d forgotten I locked it, so he knocked.

  “Be right there!” I hurried around the couch and paused to check my reflection in the mirror in my miniature entranceway. I fluffed up my hair, which I’d taken the time to curl—a rarity for me—and gave my cheeks some quick taps to pull color into them. Satisfied with my own reflection, I turned to the door, twisted the lock free, and yanked it open wearing a flirty smile.

  Walter Bates smiled right back at me. “Good evening, gorgeous. Did you get all dolled up just for me?”

  No.

  My heart fell into my stomach.

  Bates wasn’t alone. On the second step from the top stood his right-hand man, Clyde—the very man Bates himself had warned me to steer clear of. Clyde had one hand on the railing and wasn’t even looking at me. His cool stare surveyed the empty bar down below.

  “Where are all your employees?” Bates asked, creeping toward my door.

  I couldn’t let him inside.

  With fleeting seconds slipping through my fingers, I grabbed the door and threw my body weight into it. It swung toward Bates and I gripped the lock, ready to slide it home as soon as it latched, but Bates stuck his boot between the doorframe, stopping the door on a dime. The force I’d put into it sent me slamming into the wood, and it nearly took the air out of my lungs.

  He pressed a shoulder to the door and barged his way in.

  I scrambled away to put the couch between us. Meanwhile, Clyde moved up onto the landing and stood in the doorway, blocking my exit.

  “That’s no way to greet a guest.” Bates scolded me like a child while his one blue eye darted around my apartment, taking note of the space. His gaze stilled on the bottle of wine and two glasses. He moved into the kitchen while I backed away toward the window. He picked up the glass I’d poured for myself and took a sip. “A little dry. Who’s this supposed to be for? Let me guess.”

  “A friend.” My voice shook but didn’t break.

  “Does this friend of yours happen to be an ex-Navy SEAL with a chip on his shoulder?”

  I held my tongue.

  He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. It’s our lucky day, Clyde. Black Jack must be on his way over.”

  Clyde stepped into my apartment, close and locked the door behind him, and pulled a kerchief from his back pocket and a small clear bottle from his front pocket. He tipped the bottle upside down into the kerchief like I might tip nail polish remover onto a cotton pad.

  Realization slammed into me.

  “Please,” I whispered, backing away until I cornered myself in the farthest point of the living room from the two men.

  Clyde flashed me a white smile.

  Bates, on the other hand, looked almost regretful. “You really are a beautiful woman, Miss Lye, and I hate to see it all end this way, but sometimes people prove too useful a tool to be passed up. You, my dear, are the most useful tool in my arsenal at this particular moment. You understand, don’t you?”

  “The only thing I understand is that you’re a coward,” I hissed as Clyde moved around the sofa and stalked languidly toward me. He reminded me of a black panther or jaguar as he closed in on me. “You won’t get away with this. Jackson will—”

  “Die,” Bates said simply. “For you.”

  “No,” I breathed, but it was too late, and Clyde had made up all the space between us. He was there, blocking Bates from view, grinning down at me as he raised the damp kerchief to my mouth and nose.

  I fought. I kicked and tried to scream, but he was so strong, and as soon as I inhaled once, the chemical filled my lungs and scrambled my brain. Everything blurred together until it turned bright white and my legs gave out.

  I didn’t even feel myself hit the floor.

  Smoke.

  It smelled like smoke.

  It was thick and heavy and in my mouth and lungs, and I woke up choking. Something dry and coarse ran across my tongue. Fur filled my mouth as I hacked and tried to breathe, and even though my eyes burned and I couldn’t open them, I knew Toes was there.

  His frantic meow brought me back to my senses.

  With one arm, I scooped up my cat and held him close to me. With the other, I planted a hand on the floor and used it to steady myself as I tried to stand. But the air was too thick with smoke up there, and somehow despite my disorientation, I remembered I had to stay low. I didn’t know where the fire was or what was burning, but I knew it was bad.

  My whole apartment was thick with black smoke, and the air was hot.

  The fire was close.

  I army-crawled toward the window, where a square of dim light broke through the smoke. Toes’s meow increased in intensity and dropped to a lower pitch, which was a bad sign. I tried to tell him it was okay, that I would protect him and get him out, but the smoke bit at my throat.

  Once we reached the far wall, I used the windowsill to drag myself up to my feet. My shaking fingers struggled with the window latch, and for a terrified moment, I thought Bates and Clyde might have tampered with it to stop me from getting it open. But right when I was about to collapse from lack of air, the window swung open.

  Smoke raged out behind me, a thick plume of it spiralling upward over my head as I leaned over the sill and sucked in gasps of fresh air. When I caught my breath, I held Toes out, his legs dangling, his meows terrified and heartbreaking.

  “I’m sorry,” I half-sobbed. The words cut at my throat like tiny knives. “I have to drop you.”

  Toes meowed as if he understood.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I looked down at the pavement below. It was a sheer drop from my window down to the parking lot, and right below my window were employee parking spots which I’d paved last fall. Before that it had been garden boxes that continued to grow over because I didn’t have the time to take care of them like my mother used to.

  Right now, I really wished they were still soft boxes of soil for Toes to land in.

  But we had to take our chances. I would rather my baby break a leg than burn alive.

  “Please land on your feet,” I whispered.

  I let go.

  Toes’s meow was one of surprise, and he twisted and jerked as he fell. The moment was over in less than a second, and he landed like a pro, his little legs absorbing the impact, and darted off around the side of the building to who knew where.

  Thank goodness.

  In the short amount of time it had taken me to get the window open and save my cat, my apartment had heated up by several degrees. The fire, most likely down in the bar, was probably inching up the stairs and closing in on me.

  Whenever I had nightmares about Walter Bates finally putting an end to me, they never ended like this. I always figured if things really went sideways, I would die like William—quick and bloody on pavement somewhere. I prayed I wouldn’t see it coming.

  But this?

  This was sheer evil.

  I tipped my head back to look up at Reno’s evening sky. It was a brilliant red, and off in the distance where the sun no longer hit, everything had been painted purple. My father used to tell me these sunsets meant tomorrow would be a beautiful day, and as I stared at the indigo sky, I realized tomorrow wouldn’t come for me.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whimpered. “I should have let it go sooner.”

  Part of me had hoped for an answer. People always said that when they were close to t
he end they could hear loved ones on the other side or see the pearly gates or hear the word of God. But all I heard in my head was the storm of my own fear, and somewhere down below the floorboards I heard the snap and crackle of timber as the fire ate away at my home.

  With nothing left to lose, I cupped my hands to my mouth and screamed bloody murder at Reno, praying someone, anyone, would come and save me from this Hell.

  Chapter 30

  Jackson

  Mason followed me to the end of Grant’s driveway with his hands in his pockets. “I told you they wouldn’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either,” I said as I swung one leg over the seat of my bike. “But sometimes we have to do things we don’t like. Hogey won’t fuck us over. Not this time. The stakes are too high for him. Besides, he’s a fucking nobody, Mason. All he wants is some glory back. As long as he thinks we can give that to him he’ll do what’s asked of him.”

  Mason blinked. “Does that mean you intend to go back on your word?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You basically implied it.”

  I shrugged. “I’m going to play him out and see how it goes. If he’s integral to bringing down Bates, he can come back. If he sits on his bike chewing tobacco and jacking off the whole time? He can go back to his storage lockers.”

  Mason seemed to approve of this because he smirked. “He won’t like it.”

  “Do we give a damn what Hogey likes?”

  “No, not even a little bit.”

  I nodded toward Grant’s house. “Keep an eye on Suzie tonight, will you? I don’t like Hogey being around her. He looks at her like he looks at a quarter pounder.”

  “I’ll stay close to her.”

  That eased my mind. Mason wouldn’t let Hogey look at her sideways, let alone lay a finger on her.