Extreme Measures

by Kimmie Easley

  “No, that’ll do.”

  “Have a good day, minister.” My sister ushers him toward the door.

  Once it clicks closed and locks behind the man, Jessa whips her head in my direction. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “But it was weird, right?”

  “Weird as shit.” Her eyes are huge and round. “Your whole life is weird.” She tilts her head over at Val who is now emptying ashtrays as soon as people butt their smokes.

  That’s the goddamn truth.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ronin

  My bloody knuckles burn, sticking to the insides of my riding gloves. Crimson is splattered across the shins of my worn jeans, and I wish I’d brought a change of clothes. The last thing Jolene needs is more to worry about.

  Brendan is enough.

  I expected to hear something by now.

  I grip the handlebars tighter, ignoring the searing pain.

  My cell rattles, and I pull the burner from my shirt pocket. Jessa. I slip it back into my pocket, not wanting to deal with her bullshit right now. She can call Bear. If it’s not the Diablos or Jolene, it’s not important.

  We stop on the side of the road for a piss break when I see an opportunity to line the guys out before arriving back at the clubhouse.

  “You sure that’s the way you wanna go?” Clint asks.

  “What do you mean?” I fight to control the anger balling up in my chest, traveling to my neck.

  “Look, I’m not trying to jerk your dick. I just think that you need to get some rest. You need more than an hour at home to shower and check in.”

  “Then what do you suggest, peacekeeper?”

  Clint rolls his eyes. “We can work in shifts. Send us out two at a time to track down the kid.”

  “And what do I do? Sit around with my thumb up my ass?”

  “No, you rest. You drink a beer. Get laid. Regroup.”

  My breathing picks up pace, but I manage to pull air in through my nostrils, steadying my pulse. When I take the time to think about it, his idea doesn’t sound too bad.

  “Fine. Get everyone on a rotation. I want hourly check ins. No exceptions. If you track down Brendan, I want Keller kept alive. He’s mine. No one rides alone.”

  *

  We haven’t been home for an hour yet and half the club is already occupied, face down. Jolene is pulling double duty holding down the bar and keeping Val in line. And that’s no easy task.

  I’ve been watching her – Val. My mother.

  She’s a fucking enigma, and I’m trying to figure out the puzzle.

  Does she really care about Brendan? Does she really give a shit if the boy lives or dies? There’s no way to know for certain. She’s doing all the right things. Saying all the right words. Crying off in the corner. I even caught her coloring with one of the bitch’s kids earlier.

  The fucking crayon was like a knife to the gut. It pulled on the old memory threads, remembering the way Val used to keep the best coloring books for herself, always the Disney versions. And the big box of crayons with the sharpener in the back, that one is the best. But I only guessed because my boxes were generic, waxy – almost plastic, with only twelve colors.

  I hate the way having her around is causing my brain to run amuck with doubt and self-pity.

  I wonder what kind of crayons Brendan had…

  “Hey, son.” Val strolls up and squats right behind where I’m sitting.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  She lowers her gaze, and I don’t even feel bad. Not even a little bit. Along with the precious coloring books, I remember the boot stomps to the head.

  “What do you want?”

  She glances up with a hopeful, floaty gaze. I can’t swear to it, but I think she’s high.

  “Is there any news?” She asks.

  “About what?” I needle her just because I feel like it.

  Her weathered face downturns, and I avoid her delusional eyes. She’s wanting something. Hoping for something. It feels good to leave her empty, flat.

  “Nothing,” I mutter.

  Val pulls in a deep inhale before releasing a sigh.

  “When are you going home?”

  “I don’t know. That asshole left me. I ain’t saying it’s your fault, but it was right after you started coming around.

  I snicker without trying. “That explains a lot.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  I see it in her, a flash of the old Val. “What the fuck do you want? Why are you here?”

  “I want my boy back safe.”

  “Still using?” I cock my head and dare her to lie.

  My question stuns her, and she fumbles for her words. “I’m just having a hard time.”

  “Yeah, like breathing.” Turns out that I like to see her squirm.

  She gulps hard. “Is that what we’re doing now? Bringing up old sins, because I can play that game.”

  Her brazen accusation sends me sprawling up to my feet. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” My arms are stiff at my sides, and I tower over her slight frame.

  I don’t know where she comes from, but Jolene is pinched up next to me.

  “What’s going on here?” She asks, clearly already knowing the answer.

  “Just having a heart to heart with my son.”

  Her words get stuck in my head. “Don’t call me that!” I yell, probably a little too loudly.

  “Ok, ok, big guy.” Jo pivots and plants both palms on the center of my flexed pects. “Why don’t we go get ya another beer. You need a break.” She cranes her neck toward Val. “Don’t follow him. And that good advice is more for you, rather than for him.”

  I finally tear my gaze away from the crotchety woman.

  “Cold Shiner?” Jolene asks, slipping back behind the bar.

  “Make it a bottle of Jameson.”

  “The whole bottle, huh?” She quizzes me, trying to get me to open up about my mother, but I don’t want to talk about the bitch. She doesn’t deserve my time.

  “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “I know, babe. And I know it’s taking a toll on you.”

  I take a swig from the clear glass before topping it off again. I don’t bother telling her about Pipe or the upcoming plans to wipe out the chapter. Even if I find Brendan first, they will die.

  Keller will suffer.

  I try to change the subject. “Speaking of tolls, how are you doing?”

  She snaps the dishrag against her denim-covered leg, and the simple thought of her creamy thigh gives me an instant chubby.

  “I’m doing ok. I just want him back home.”

  “Me too, sugar. Me too.”

  “So, anyway, the pastor from Oceanside came to visit earlier today.”

  My expression fades, and I furrow my brow hard. “What was he doing here?”

  “He said he was trying to get in touch with you. Just took a chance.”

  That greasy fucker.

  “I’d already talked to him. What else did he say?”

  She twists her full lips, tugging on her ponytail. “Well, when the prospect told him you weren’t here, he said he wanted to talk to me.”

  My blood boils through my frenzied, rushing veins. “And?”

  “You know, I don’t know what he wanted. He never said.”

  “Of course, he didn’t. He was flirting with you. I don’t have time to head down to Oceanside or I would…”

  “No,” she stops me. “He’s in town for a couple of days. Said he’d be talking to you.”

  “That stupid fuck’s gonna meet my goddamn boot.”

  “Come on, babe.” She slithers around my back, melding her frame to mine. “You need to blow off some steam.”

  “Oh yeah?” I arch my heavy brow. “What do you have in mind?”

  She only gazes at me, making deep contact, grasping my hand, gliding up the stairs. I wonder where we’re going because Brendan took over our old room in the clu
bhouse above the bar.

  My body vibrates with excitement when she ushers me into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.

  “It’s been a while since we did this kind of shit.”

  She giggles, and I rush in for a kiss, but she presses her fingers up to meet my lips.

  “What?”

  “You’ve had it hard lately, babe. Like I said, you need to blow off some steam.” Jolene carves her lips into a delicious grin, and I want to lick her up.

  She fiddles with the buttons on my jeans, finally tugging them down to my ankles, her nails grazing my flesh.

  My hard dick begs for her attention, and she’s oh-so happy to comply.

  She takes me into her mouth, down on her knees, swallowing my full-length, causing me to release a deep, throaty growl, burying my fingers into her hair.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jolene

  The point between my legs throbs as I roll over, searching for Ronin, but I’m met with the cold sheet. It takes me a second to remember that he rode off before day break.

  A pang squeezes, nipping at my heart, just like every time he leaves the house anymore.

  A wave of heat rushes over me, flushing through my cheeks and ears. My stomach knots, and I bolt upright in the bed. I take a sip from the plastic bottle on the table hoping the water will help with the nausea.

  Touching my palm to forehead, I check for a fever. I rummage through the medicine cabinet for the thermometer.

  I pop the end in my mouth and go in search for fuel, pleased to find a full pot of coffee brewing. My limbs are weak, and I fight off a yawn.

  “Hey, are you sick?” Val asks.

  “Just a little under the weather.” The device beeps in my mouth.

  “Well, let me help you back in bed,” she offers. “98.4”

  “Ah, see there, no fever.” I grin, but even my jaw muscles hurt from the incessant headache.

  Jessa slips in through the back door, pulling a drag off a cigarette.

  “Bear gone too?”

  She nods. “Yeah, they left. There’re two meatheads outside. What’s up with you?” She darts her gaze to the thermometer.

  “A little blah today. The coffee should help.”

  “I think she should go back to bed,” Val says, folding her arms square over her chest. I see it. The glint in my sister’s eye. She smirks, and it reminds me of the ten-year-old Jessa.

  My best friend.

  And just like most friends, she enjoys a good prank. “So, Val, the bitches and I have a lot on our plates today.”

  I tilt my head, daring her to say it.

  She takes the silent dare. “Why don’t you stay by Jolene’s side today. You know, as a caretaker. We need our queen at her best.”

  My lungs deflate as I sigh when I see the hope in Val’s stare.

  A minute later, I find myself in bed with the covers tucked up under my chin and Jessa’s cackling voice trailing her out the door.

  “Let me get you some Tylenol.” She scrambles for the bottle from the bathroom.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask her.

  “What do you mean?” She asks, void of expression.

  “This, wanting to take care of everybody. You have to know how we feel about you.”

  For the first time, Val stops and stares down at me. “Yeah, I’m not stupid.”

  “So, why are you pretending? What’s your end game?”

  “Today, it’s to take care of you.”

  Her ill humor makes me giggle. “No, you know what I’m talking about. What’s your plan?”

  “I’m going to assume that you’re talking about Brendan.”

  “Sure.”

  She drops her chin, dipping it toward the floor. “I’m not proud of myself. The opposite really. I’m actually very ashamed. I know my kids deserve better. They’re good boys.”

  “So, that’s why you’re doing this?”

  Val shakes her bushy, blonde ponytail. “No, I just want to help.”

  “So, you don’t want him back then?” I ask with a thread-like voice.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I untuck the blanket and turn my back on her.

  I don’t wake back up until darkness fills the bedroom. Everything is eerie and quiet. I glance over at the rocker in the corner, relieved to find it empty.

  I step into a pair of snug jeans and a tight-fitting tank top, which is my usual weekend attire. I pull on my boots, adjust my ponytail, and apply a little lip gloss to my bottom lip, giving both a solid smack.

  Making my way through the sea of parked cars, I cross the rocky lot, ignoring my shadow, the prospect, who picks up my tail.

  I’m pleased to see Val helping the bitches bus tables, and I slip through the swinging door to the back, hiding out in the office.

  I’m feeling a little better, with a faint headache in my temples.

  Jessa sits behind her desk, decorated with photos and club memorabilia. “Hey, look who’s finally awake. Thought I was gonna be left shorthanded tonight. Patsy needed some of the bitches.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that, but I’m here now and feeling better.”

  “You have a little more color to your cheeks. Want some water?”

  I shake my head. “Nope, but I’ll take a Shiner.”

  She giggles and plucks a cold bottle from the mini-fridge passing me one and grabbing a bottle for herself. I screw off the cap and guzzle the liquid suds, allowing it to wash over my dry throat.

  “By the way, that was shitty what you did with Val earlier.” I pick at the yellow label with my fingernail.

  “Oh, come on. It was a joke.”

  “Well, it was shitty. She’s not a joke and shouldn’t be used as one.”

  Jessa smacks her beer down on the desk. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for her bullshit.”

  “No, of course not. I’m just saying, she’s here, and she’s trying. I just feel bad. She needs help”

  “Yeah, like a year in rehab and a fucking shrink.”

  “Whatever, just lay off, ok?”

  She takes a long pull from the bottle. “Fine.”

  *

  I’m left with the short straw when it comes to a grocery run, and the tall, lanky prospect on my tail isn’t exactly incognito.

  I march down the store aisles, loading up on essentials, juice and snacks for the kids, and an endless supply of meat. People are happier when it comes to smoked meat.

  “Make yourself useful and grab some beer,” I snap, and the loyal man skitters off to the alcohol aisle.

  He vanishes just as I skirt the corner to the fresh produce. I’m thumping a watermelon when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder.

  “What the…” I recognize the small children running around playing in the barrel of grapes and stop myself before dropping an F-bomb. “Pastor Klein, what are you doing here?”

  He holds a small basket in the air. “Looks like the same thing you are. Nice running into you today. What a surprise.”

  “Yeah, because yesterday was so coincidental. Ronin actually said something about talking to you already. He was shocked to hear that you came looking for him.”

  He curls his lips. “Yeah, I bet he was. So, when should I be expecting the big brood?”

  Now, it’s my turn to smirk. “Well, he said he had more pressing shit to take care of, like having his asshole bleached.”

  I notice his deep inhale and the dip in his gaze. He steps forward, closing the already slight gap between us.

  “That just made me think about pressing up on your ass. Thanks for that.” His eyebrows twitch with nerves. He leans in next to my ear. “I’ll be using that image later,” he whispers with thick, hot breath.

  I work to swallow the disgust and refuse to move from the encroached space. I refuse to budge from this very spot, tipping my hand.

  He sends a wave of nausea, quivering through my core.

  I wait him out, and he finally relents, strolling away
but never breaking his stare until he rounds the end cap. Once he’s out of sight, I rush for the bathroom, praying for a one-holer. Not that it matters.

  I bolt for the stall, and the weakness running through my legs sends me to my knees where I stick my head over the bowl and empty the contents of my sour stomach.

  I finally rinse my mouth with warm water, swishing it around before popping in a stick of cinnamon gum. I step out just in time to see the prospect flying down the frozen food aisle. It looks like we’ve now lost both carts.

  I just want to go to bed.

  “Will customer in the store, Jolene Miller, please meet your party at the service desk?”

  I shake my head with a deadpan expression. What an idiot.

  I snag the prospect by his leather and jerk him around. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

  He stares at me with a bewildered gaze. “What?”

  “Announcing to the entire grocery store that I’m here when we’re on lockdown? Real smart.”

  “Damn, sorry. I didn’t think of that. You just scared the shit outta me. That pastor is here. I saw him, then he just disappeared.”

  “I went to the bathroom, genius. Get the haul and get in line.” The scarecrow looking man does what I say, and I feel it. The hard stare coming from across the store.

  Pastor Klein peeps over the top of the checkout line shelves, and he smacks his lips into an evil snarl.

  And in another couple of days, he’ll stand behind a pulpit spreading the ‘good news’.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ronin

  I hated leaving Jolene this time. I hate leaving every time, but this one really hangs like a boulder in my gut.

  We ride up the mountain and search for the black Cadillac that Stoner found belonged to the Diablos president himself.

  Clint and I back into a dark spot down the block from the small residence. I text Stoner, signaling for him and the others to surround the neighborhood exits.

  We sit, with no sign of life for over three hours.

  Finally, my burner dings.

  “Yeah?”

  “Steele, I have someone who wants to talk to you.”

  My nostrils flare, sucking in heavy air. “I’m not playing any games.”

  “Ronin?”

  My heart beats in my constricted throat. “Brendan? Are you ok? Did they hurt? Tell me where you are.”