“Po’Boy’s here.” Lifting one shoulder in a shrug she prayed looked more casual than it felt, she said, “Let’s get this party started, because Twisted,” she intentionally used his club name, “ain’t here and ain’t been here since Saturday morning. I want to find him. He matters to me.” She looked back at Po’Boy, knowing this man was Bell’s closest friend. “I need to find him.”
***
“How much do you know about what he’s been doing?” Po’Boy’s stance was aggressive, taking up as much of the doorway as he could manage, standing with his shoulders spanning the opening.
Penny had led the three men into the house, finding it disquieting that all three seemed to be more at home than she was. Po’Boy, clearly having spent a significant amount of time there, went directly to the kitchen and retrieved three bottles of beer, pointedly not bringing her anything. Bitches don’t get served, she thought, remembering CoBos parties. If she wanted something to drink, she’d have to get it herself, but for now, she would overlook this opening gambit to put her in her place, focusing instead on his question. They were in the den; she’d thought it prudent to keep the conversation away from the large windows. Retro had his ass on the desk, Po’Boy to his left in the doorway. Ty had taken up a position on the wall to the right of where she was leaning. Waiting.
“Nada.” She watched in surprise when both Retro and Po’Boy reacted to that statement. They had expected her to know something. What? “I know better than to ask after club business. You know who I am,”—she motioned to Retro, and he nodded—“and I can educate you if needed.” Po’Boy frowned, a line furrowing his forehead. “But just understand I grew up around a club. I know better. I wouldn’t ask, and I respect his position. Would never make him compromise the brotherhood.”
“You expect us to believe you suckin’ his cock and ain’t asking where he’s goin’? Pillow talk is pussy’s favorite in on club business. Lick you a lollipop and get you an in. Pussy thinks takin’ dick means you got a fuckin’ say in shit that ain’t any part of your business.” Po’Boy spoke again, and his tone was no longer wading the edges of disrespectful. It was fully off the pier and into deep water, but because Bell hadn’t brought her around, he’d bought this for her, so she’d have to take it. For now.
“Yeah, I do being as I still don’t know for sure you are who I think you are, which means he didn’t pull out the fuckin’ albums and share you.” She pushed off from the wall and took one step towards him. “But I know you. Just from his stories, I know you. I know he’d die for you. I know you’ve had his back for most of his life. I know he loves you. That you aren’t just a patch brother, you’re closer than blood.”
She swept out her hand, indicating Ty. “I’ve known Wrench all my life.” She then pointed across to Retro. “This man was friends with my uncle.” She flicked her gaze his way, seeing a smile on his face. “Friend of mine, now.” She jerked her thumb towards her own chest. “I’m Penny,” she offered her lineage, her association with men in the life the only thing that granted her space in this room, “Bagger’s niece,”—she took a breath and then said what she hoped was true—“and Twisted’s ole lady. I get it. I’m with it. But he’s been missing,” she emphasized the word in a way none of them could mistake, “for too long because I didn’t make a call, not wantin’ to be a ball ‘n chain.” Another breath. “Done with that. Only focused on finding him.” She spread her hands wide, inviting them all to join her. “Help me do that.”
None of the men moved. No one said a word. Shit.
She steadied her gaze on Po’Boy’s face, focused on his eyes, holding them through sheer force of will. Slowly, Penny shifted to echo his stance, setting herself against him in a way no one could mistake, and still no one spoke. His gaze stayed on her, and he looked at her searchingly, his face impassive. Then his mouth stretched in a grin that threatened to reopen the split in his lip and he laughed. “Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ ball buster. I like ya. Twisted’s woman. Fuck yeah.” His body relaxed and he sagged into the doorframe. “Let your boy here tell the tale.” He shrugged, flicking a finger at Ty. “Go on now, Wrench. Talk her through it.”
She turned to look at Ty, who suddenly wore an expression that he’d rather be anywhere but here, and acid churned through her gut. Penny tipped her chin down and took a deep breath before leaning one shoulder against the wall, then she looked up at him and said, “Least said, soonest mended. Get on with it.”
“Not sure you want an audience for this, doll.” That was Ty trying to be nice, trying to protect her, trying to help her save face. What he didn’t understand was every minute that ticked past on the clock meant she had less to save. “Why don’t we—”
“Ty,” she whispered. “I love him.” In those three words, she knew she’d killed her friend, watched him brutalized with a weapon she hadn’t meant to wield. Denied him, pulling away something he’d been holding onto. But she didn’t care. Couldn’t find it in herself to care. Bell was missing.
“Gollum’s dead.” It wouldn’t have mattered how he said it, that would have kicked the stuffing out of her, and it did. Her breath whooshed out in a rush, leaving a desert behind in her lungs. Dry and arid, airless in a way that would cause her to implode, her chest compressed hard. Her heart stuttered as her skin heated with a burn that had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the hatred she had inside her. “He died Saturday, a little before noon.”
Club business. Bell had done this for her. And if he did that, then it meant only one thing, something she’d seen before, back when the CoBos ran the Mexicans out of their parishes. “War.” Wrench nodded, and she turned to look at Retro, bypassing Po’Boy except to note he was staring at her, looking puzzled. “Your Bastards?” Retro nodded. Bell had called in the troops, had been ready for a battle, but that had happened Saturday morning, meant Retro had days of intel to share, if he would. “Ears?” Bagger’s language slipped out, his phrase for informants and Retro shook his head.
“Nothing to report, or I’d have called Twisted, and if I couldn’t get him, Po’Boy.” So no retribution talk, not yet. How far would these men let her push before they shut her down? She decided to see if she could get a little farther down the road.
“Fiddler?” Retro stared at her a moment and then shook his head. She knew what that meant. This had been a comprehensive assault against the entire club. She tipped her head, staring at the edge of the oval rug, tracing it along the wooden floor. Both protection and soundproofing, the rug served two purposes. Could be a bitch to clean, but also helped in clean-up if you were in a hurry, unannounced visitors making their way up the walk, calling a hello to the house, giving you just enough warning to lift one edge and sweep crumbs or dirt underneath, to be removed after company left.
If they swept the whole club up, there might still be pieces drifting around, hiding under a protective covering, something or someone positioning them in such a way to keep them out of sight. “How many members did you fail to account for?” Po’Boy snickered, and she looked up to see him shaking his head. Right. Unless one of the members talked, the club’s full roster would never be known. “No, wait.” She tipped her head back down. You might look under ninety percent of that rug, and still not see what needed to be removed. “What parishes were the Shield members that you can’t locate from? Where’s home for them?”
“What you diggin’ at, girl?” That was from Retro, his question softly voiced, tone honestly puzzled. She didn’t blame him, but over the years she’d been privy to enough strategy sessions with Bagger and the CoBos that she believed she was on the right track. “There’s not been any noise about blowback on this, honey.”
“Let me ask you.” She pointed at Po’Boy, knowing he was the one she had to convince. “Someone did this to your club, left you the only man standin’, would you let it go? Walk away?”
“Fuck no.” He straightened, denying even the thought. “Oh, fuck no. Take my cut and bike, kill my brothers? I’d go down in
a fuckin’ blaze.”
“Right.” Hell yeah, he would. So would any Shield. She swung to look at Retro. “How many, and which parishes?”
Ty spoke from beside her. “Twenty, most are Acadia and Evangeline.” Westward parishes. She tipped her chin down, thinking again of the rug and the area it covered, where the edges fell, and what was beyond them. “What are you thinkin’, Penny?”
“Allen.” She named a western parish. “Rapides.” She named another before lifting her head, staring at Po’Boy. “They belong to—”
“Vicar’s Wrath,” he growled out the information, something she already knew. He was beginning to follow her thread of thought.
“Leswayne and Fiddler were—”
“VietVets, same as Jimbo and Bagger.” He supplied information she also already knew. “Fuck, you seriously thinkin’ that, woman?”
“Yeah, I’m thinkin’ that.” She shook her head and looked at Retro. “Middle drawer behind you. Grab the road atlas. My old one from the truck, pull it out.” Bell had given her a new one, laughing softly at her argument against the gift. “Penny, it ain’t a big expense, and your old one is tattered. My baby needs good tools to bring her safe home to me.” She pushed the thought away and moved across the room. In a moment, the four of them were standing around the edges of the desk, looking down at a map of Louisiana. She touched several cities and parishes she knew were run by Incoherent. “Y’all own all these.” She pointed to the city where Gollum’s home was, her trembling finger not able to touch the paper. “Shields had this, and all of this.” Her finger swept along the north/south interstate. “You probably ran your sweep from east to west, which meant the western edge got a call, slipped the gauntlet somehow. If I was Shield, and I knew my leadership was dead, I’d be looking for friendly faces. Every Shield member knows Fiddler and Leswayne’s history. That’s where they went.” She straightened. “I’d stake my life on it.”
“Stake your ole man’s?” Po’Boy tilted his head, looking at her from under the fall of hair over his forehead.
“He’s my life, so yeah, I am.”
Chapter Fifteen
Penny
Penny tugged the bandana higher on her cheeks with one hand, the wind teasing and pulling it out of place. Riding whip on the line of bikes guaranteed eating dirt, and with every man trying studiously to ignore her presence, it irritated a bit. Black vest on her back, not even sporting a property of patch, which meant there was no place for her on the back of any bike in this line. If that wasn’t enough, riding her own flew in the face of every piece of protocol Po’Boy and Retro recited, but she didn’t care, told them so repeatedly, and then did what she wanted anyway.
A scowling Po’Boy thought he’d handled it when she came out of Bell’s house to see him pocketing a sparkplug, but he hadn’t counted on how much time she’d spent with Bagger growing up. Between teaching her how to fish with a cane pole, and working on bikes while sitting side-by-side on a stump, Bagger had shared a lot of himself with her. She could out-wrench Wrench, and he knew it, which is why he looked amused as the column pulled out, riding west.
Fifteen minutes later, she rolled up on the back of the mass of bikers, knowing when the riders caught sight of her in their mirrors by suddenly erratic paths. Word must have traveled up the ranks, because a few minutes later, Po’Boy moved out from the head of the line and into the lane for oncoming traffic, slowing down before he slid in next to her bike.
He shot her a look so filled with venom it was a wonder she didn’t expire on the spot, and she lifted her clutch hand to cover her heart in mock dismay. His hand signals were unmistakably dismissive, and she fought a smile when she pretended to misunderstand, settling into place and nodding enthusiastically. His shouted, “Fucking cunts,” was distinct, as was the moment when he gave up on dissuading her. Left hand lifted in a bird, his bike surged out into oncoming, barely missing a car going the other way as he flashed past the line and back into his position on point.
Now they were coming up on the parish line dividing Lafayette and Acadia. There was a little restaurant there she and Bagger would frequently eat at when they rode, and their gravel lot would make a good jumping-off point for the rest of the ride today. With a sigh of relief, she saw lifted fists coming down the line of bikes indicating a stop was imminent, and then had a flash of panic wondering if she dared stop with them. Po’Boy might be angry enough to attempt other methods of keeping her under wraps. Penny shifted her hips side-to-side, feeling the weight of the knife on her hip and the slide of the leather holster at the small of her back. I got more up my sleeve, she thought. Fuck it, and fuck him. I just want Bell home.
She had barely gotten the kickstand down when the shouting began, and she watched as Ty stepped into Po’Boy’s path. Not putting a hand on him, just putting himself in the way. Still, not smart. Po’Boy executed a takedown maneuver she’d never seen, and within only a handful of seconds, Ty was off to the side, rising to one knee, his back dusty from a roll on the ground to get away from Po’Boy’s hands. An instant later and Po’Boy was in her face, mouth open, roaring, lips pulled back to expose his teeth. With cords and veins standing out on the sides of his thick neck, he kept shouting the same question, never giving her time to respond, not that she had any intention of doing so. “You wanna die, bitch? You fuckin’ wanna die? Huh? Wanna die? Got a fuckin’ death wish?”
His hands shot up, but he seemed to have second thoughts because they hovered over her shoulders, not touching. His mouth didn’t stop, though, and he shouted, “This ain’t no fuckin’ tea party. Ain’t no hair-pullin’ jello wrasslin’ match.” Already close, he leaned in another inch, heat from his skin pouring over her. “You got it in you to kill a man? Because that’s what I’m aimin’ to do. If they got my brother? They got him, and I find out they got him? I’ll turn over every fuckin’ stone to find him, kill anyone in my way. Break their backs, walk on their bones to find him. Strip off every piece of skin a man owns if he knows the least thing. You got that in you?” He ratcheted up the volume, screaming, “Huh? Bitch? You got that in you?”
In all this, she hadn’t flinched, even though fear flooded through her. Heart pounding in her chest because this man was in her space, furious to a level she’d never seen, he made it very plain what he expected to go down today. But Penny held to the memories of Bell: his laughter, the amusement in his voice when he found her funny. Choked herself with memories of the pain she’d felt when she heard what happened to Bagger, knowing the loss couldn’t be fixed.
She clasped tightly to her resolve in the face of his anger, just as she had the night she’d willingly gone to the bed of a man to get information. It steadied her because she knew if the details had been available, she would have used the information to find Bagger’s killer, and murdered him. So in the face of Bell’s brother’s extreme love for him and witnessing that love turning to wanting to protect her, she held firm.
Her only response was to look deep into this man’s eyes, holding his gaze, knowing her pupils were probably just as dark and filled with pain. I love him, too.
“Well?” His shoulders swung in a little closer, the name patch on his cut moving with his vest, catching her eye. Po’Boy. No one had explained his name, and she’d never ask, but suddenly she knew what it meant. The music Bell listened to was old school, older than his years, and one of his favorites was a song from the mid-seventies. Now that she had the thought, she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t have kept her mouth shut if paid to because she knew. And knowing, learned so much about this man.
“I get it. You’ve been down a road I haven’t traveled. You’ve killed a man…men.” She nodded, walking the edge carefully. “I wanted to but couldn’t find him. Blocked at every turn, but I wanted that so badly. Wanted the one who shot and killed Bagger. God, Bagger. Loved that man. He gave me the world. The man who killed him took that away from me. I wanted my own back. Wanted that in the worst way. I gave everything I had to find out who it was.” Suckin
g in a hard breath, she found it filled with the stench of Po’Boy’s rage and terror. “Everything,” she repeated in a whisper.
He grunted, the sound pained and guttural, and she knew he understood what her payment had been. It didn’t matter now, a thousand men could know and judge, and she wouldn’t care if it could bring Bell home. “Wanted that man on his knees in front of me.” She nodded. “I’d do it. Still will. I will do it, in a New York minute. Will if I find him. I'll put a gun up to his head, pull the trigger without flinching.” His eyes flared, and she noted it, knowing he recognized the cadence of her words.
“Twisted didn’t tell me shit about Incoherent business, but he did tell me I was important to him.” She pulled in a breath. “I’m just a poor girl.” There was another eye flare, and she felt sure she was on the right track to him letting her do what she needed without fighting her every step of the way. “My family wasn’t rich, in anything except love. I’m important to him, and he might be in trouble. Friend,” she stayed carefully away from the word these men used among themselves, “if I did a single ounce less than everything I have inside me to find him, then you’d know I’m not the woman for him. And you shouldn’t want me for him.”
He roared again, wordlessly, the sound so fierce it shook her bones.
Against every instinct, she leaned in, lips to Po’Boy’s ear, and whispered, “He picked me. For some unknown reason, he picked me, and I love him. Can’t breathe without him. Can’t live. I have to do this. Don’t take this from me. Let me in, Po’Boy. I have to. Please.”
His hands settled on her shoulders, and she braced for a shove that didn’t come. Instead, he folded her to him as if she were the most delicate crystal, as if she were fragile and breakable and precious, and she knew it was because Bell had talked to Po’Boy about her. Knew in an instant the riders rolling past the house for the last two days were as much sentinels on her behalf as lookouts for their brother. She shivered, feeling the power held in check in these arms surrounding her. Not an intimate embrace, it felt as if Po’Boy was taking as much comfort as he gave, together they were building reserves against whatever lay ahead.
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 24
