Table

by ML Mystrom

  Table raised an eyebrow as high as he could. “You hacked the FBI?”

  Bruiser shrugged, took another slurp of the nasty drink concoction, and burped again. “’T weren’t nothin’. I don’t mess aroun’ none. Just take a quick look-see and get out. I erase my trail real good so we cain’t be traced.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Absolutely positive.”

  Table wasn’t exactly relieved by Bruiser’s declaration, but he knew Bruiser was a computer artist. The large man may not be fast-moving or seem to have a lot going on upstairs, but he was a pure genius with a monitor and keyboard.

  “Can you track Jeffie-boy now?”

  Bruiser shook his head. “He done got off the grid for a spell. I got pics of him whoopin’ it up at a cartel party last week, snortin’ blow and fuckin’ a couple women. I ain’t seen him anywhere since, but I cain’t find no records or pics of him coming back to the States either. Not even on the private shit his daddy owns. His bank account’s been dead for a while now. Credit cards ain’t been used here either. He might be on the way, but I cain’t tell for sure and don’t think he’s back yet. ’Sides, I ’spect them rich people cain’t be bothered doin’ their own dirty work. I’d bet cash money they done hired someone to mess with your girl. Keep her scared and in line.”

  Table ran a hand over his face and head. “Well Jeffie-boy and Lori are now divorced and that part stayed quiet. I can’t understand why he’d still want to mess with her. The only thing I can think of is the Townsend Foundation. I don’t see how, since it wasn’t her that was launderin’ money through it. Fuck, this crap gives me a headache.”

  “I think it has to do with the trust behind the foundation. Lori, or Vivian, is supposed to control the piece of it her granddaddy left her. I gotta mess of emails that were ’sposed to be from her while she was overseas. They all said proxy voting was gonna be done for her by the Senator. You look back far enough, them emails didn’t come from South Africa. They started out at the foundation headquarters and routed through a server over there. The school they been talkin’ ’bout? Look at these pics here.”

  Bruiser clicked on the mouse and two sets of photos came up. One showed a classroom of smiling dark-skinned children wearing uniforms and sitting at desks with open school books. The other showed a grainy image of a falling down shack in a dry, dusty yard.

  “This picture is a stock photo from a private school from years back, ain’t got nothing to do with the foundation. The other one? That’s where the school is supposed to be. ’Parently, that’s how Jeffie-boy’s father’s been cleanin’ money and embezzlin’ more. Got two sets of books cookin’ for the foundation. As long as Lori stayed low, he’s been drainin’ the accounts. In fact, looks like it’s about to go under. Once the FBI finds all this shit, he’s gonna need Lori to disappear. And stay that way.”

  “Fuck.”

  “You ain’t lyin’, brother.”

  Table closed his eyes and let out a long breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was trouble. Bigger trouble than he had ever anticipated. He was part of a simple motorcycle club in western North Carolina that had fought its way to legitimacy and now only wanted to live free and ride free. Yes, the club skirted the law upon occasion and probably always would when needed, but for the most part the men and women of the club worked hard, played hard, and expected to be left alone. In returning to his brothers, he’d brought more than just a battered woman. Drug cartels, illegal arms dealing, and the fuckin’ FBI of all things! This was way more than he had a right to ask, but what was the alternative? Take Lori and Angel, and run? How and where? Letting Lori go was not an option. He looked at Brick for answers.

  Brick had stayed silent up until that point. “Bruiser, you sure there ain’t no way the Feds are going to come knockin’ on my door anytime soon?”

  Bruiser tipped his cup and snapped a finger against the bottom to dislodge an ice cube. He crunched loudly and a few drops of liquid sprayed when he spoke. “I am ab-so-fuckin-a-loo-telly-one-hunerd-percent positive.”

  Brick nodded. “The Dragon don’t run from trouble, but we don’t have to go out guns blazin’ neither. Gotta be smart with this shit. Bruiser, I want you to do whatever it is you do, but this time, leave something behind for them Feds to find.”

  Bruiser wiped the wet specks from his screen. “I told you, bossman. I don’t leave nothin’ behind. I ain’t sloppy like that.”

  “This time you do. But you leave something behind that points to the senator and all this foundation shit. Some dark site where they find them cooked books or whatever it is you do. Just keep the club and Lori out of it. You’ve been boastin’ about needin’ a challenge. Can you do that?”

  Bruiser scratched at his scraggly ponytail. “I got some ideas. Yeah, it’s a challenge, but I can do it. Good thinking, Brick. Put a bug in the works, lead the Feds to this buttload of evidence, and let them do the work. Club stays out of it. Home free for everyone.”

  Brick grunted. “Get it done. How long do you think this will take?”

  Bruiser shook his head and started pecking at the keyboard with his sausage-shaped fingers. “No way of tellin’. I’ll set the trail, but them FBI fellas gotta pick up on it. Might be a coupla days. Might be a week or two. We’ll just have to see. If no one picks up, I’ll leave a bit more to find, as long as I can still keep us protected.”

  Table nodded an acknowledgment and left Bruise typing away. He paused at the opening to the great room and just stood there for a moment watching Lori. She was smiling and making noises at Angel.

  She fits, he thought. She fits me, she fits my daughter, she fits my family.

  His focus widened to take in the rest of the group. Mute had Kat securely under his arm and glued to his side. Eva had joined them as well and was curled up on Stud’s lap. Cutter was standing behind Molly, absently rubbing her shoulders. Tambre got up to go to her man Taz and greet him with a hug and a kiss. Other members were paired off with their significant others if they had one.

  “Nice sight, ain’t it?” Brick had come up behind Table as he looked on the group huddled around the couches. “That right there is what we Runners live and die for. If the good Lord took away my sight or my legs or my hands tomorrow and I couldn’t put my ass on my bike for the rest of my life, I’d still be happy. I got my family right here and I’d do anything to keep ’em safe. All of ’em. I know you’re thinking ’bout the big pile of shit we just found and I feel I need to remind you who we are. We’re the Dragon Runners of Bryson City. I’m telling you true, son, we got your back and hers. Ain’t nothin’ ever gonna change that.”

  Table felt an unfamiliar tingle hit his nose as he looked at the older man.

  Brick wrinkled his nose. “Shit, son! Quit lookin’ at me like I’m about to hold your hand and sing ‘Kumbaya’ to you. Get your ass out there and get your woman.”

  Twenty-Two

  Time was funny. Sometimes it was your best friend, like on vacation or a leisurely road trip. Other times, it could be the greatest enemy, lurking in the background like a specter ready to pounce. The biggest danger with time? Waiting. Waiting for a phone call, waiting to hear back from a job interview, waiting for a date to arrive, or waiting for a disaster to happen. I wasn’t very good at waiting. But the problem with having that waiting time was becoming complacent and relaxed.

  It had been several weeks since Bruiser had left a breadcrumb trail for the FBI to discover. And find it they did indeed. The news had been chock full of details behind the new charges brought against Senator Townsend. New discoveries were made daily, and speculation grew about my “demise.” It was assumed I was dead and I was okay with that, but Table was worried even more, as now he thought Jeffrey would be more motivated to make it that way.

  When so many days passed and nothing happened, we started thinking it was over and Jeffery was gone, probably in hiding from the Columbian cartel. I stopped looking over my shoulder.

  Life was good. Table wa
s back at his old job in the tattoo parlor. And I was looking for work. Table was good with me cleaning houses if I wanted to continue that profession, but I was free to do anything I wanted. My degree was in non-profit administration and even though I couldn’t use my degree as Vivian Townsend, I still had the knowledge. Maybe there was something else I could do. Perhaps I could find a way to help women who had found themselves in situations similar to mine. I had time.

  Too bad I stopped looking over my shoulder.

  I was coming out of Psalm’s store, Soap-n-Stuff. Angel was in my arms, as well as an array of paper bags holding various soaps, bath bombs, and candles for the home I was making with Table. My thoughts were on what I was going to cook for dinner that night when I spotted Jeffery standing next to an older black SUV out of the corner of my eye, along with another man. I recognized him as one of the senator’s former bodyguards.

  My blood froze and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. I started to sweat and I felt panic rise in the back of my throat. I had the urge to run but couldn’t move.

  “Hello, Vivian.”

  My head exploded with pain and I felt myself falling into blackness.

  Table was working on the outline of the sugar skull that Bruiser had requested for finding out about Tamara and the custody filing. The trail the large man had traced found that she was in Florida. She had taken up with another biker club and was now one of their club bunnies. She had indeed signed some papers but wasn’t anywhere near Raleigh when the custody dispute was originated. Her claim was a man in a black suit came to see her at the bar she was working at and gave her a big bag of cash to sign some papers. She didn’t really know what they were, but she needed the money. Custody was never her goal and she was pissed as hell she had to file an affidavit to drop it. Her exact words were: “Don’t ever bother me with this shit again, asshole.” Bruiser looked but couldn’t find a connection back to the foundation, but Table still suspected it was an attempt to fuck things up between him and Lori.

  “You find a place yet?”

  Table paused to dip more ink. “Not yet. I figure Lori’s gonna want somethin’ with some land to it for gardenin’. She took to it in Asheville and ’spect she’ll want that here. I’ve got some extra from my fight money, but it’s not enough for that.”

  “Lori, eh? She ain’t gonna go back to being Vivian?”

  “Nope. Now be still or I’m gonna fuck this up.”

  “Think she’ll stick?”

  “Yeah, now quit moving.”

  “She’s a nice girl. Club likes her a lot. Happy for you, brother.”

  “Thanks, Bruiser. I’m real glad everyone likes her since she’s here to stay. Now if you don’t stop squirmin’, your skull is gonna look cross-eyed.”

  Psalm burst into the tattoo shop just as Table’s phone rang. She was wild-eyed and gasping for breath.

  “Table! He took them! He took them both!”

  Table put the tattoo gun down. His brain spiked with sudden adrenaline and his heart went into overdrive. “Say again?”

  “Lori came in with Angel a little while ago for some stuff and a quick visit. I was watching when she left and someone was waiting for her outside the store.”

  Dread and fury built suddenly.

  “What happened?”

  Psalm bent her slight frame over as air continued to heave in and out of her lungs.

  “There were two men. One of them hit her in the head, and the other one grabbed Angel. Lori was knocked out and they put her in the back seat. The other one got in the front and held Angel in his lap. It was a black SUV, but I don’t know the make or model. I tried to get to them, but before I got outside, they were gone. It happened so fast. I got part of the license plate and called Blue as I was running over here to tell you. Oh, God, Table!”

  Table stripped the latex gloves from his hands. “I guess you can tell I ain’t finishin’ your outline today, Bruiser. I got a big rat to catch.”

  Bruiser had already gotten out of the chair with a grunt as he shifted his bulk. “No problem, brother. I’ll get my laptop set up. Fucker’s got balls to do this in broad daylight. Anyone else see it happen?”

  Psalm had a look of confusion on her face. “Not really. There were some tourists around, but no one took pictures or filmed. It was so quick I don’t think other people recognized what was happening. What are you doing?”

  Bruiser looked at her as he lifted the fragile-looking machine and pulled up a road map. “’Member that necklace Table gave Lori last week? Got a GPS tracker in it. Thought it might come in handy. See, there’s the fucker.”

  Bruiser pointed to a blinking dot on the screen.

  “Does she know?’

  Table swiped his phone open and scrolled through his contacts. “Yeah, she does. I ain’t startin’ off a new relationship by lyin’ to my woman. She didn’t like it much, but I told her it would give me peace of mind. Seems that was a good call.”

  He tapped the phone. “Brick? Shit’s going down. Time to let the dragon out.”

  Twenty-Three

  Table eased his way to the front of the dilapidated shack. The other Runners were right behind him, Mute as silent as his name on the right side, and Dodge in between them. They could hear the man inside yelling curses, the crying of a very angry Angel, and the begging sobs of Lori. Table set his eye carefully against one of the cracks in the rotted wood door, and the sight that met his eyes made him grow cold.

  Lori was sitting in an old metal folding chair. It was badly bent, and she was having to balance awkwardly in order not to tip over. Angel was in her arms and red-faced as she let her displeasure be known. Lori was jiggling and chuffing at her and trying to get her calmer. Two men were in the room, and Table recognized Jeffrey from the internet photo, but he looked very different from the suave, jet-setting playboy running around with gorgeous models. He was unkempt, his hair sticking out from his head in untamed curls, and his clothes were wrinkled and dirty. The other guy was just as disheveled in a messy black suit and tie. Table guessed this was the bodyguard, and from the dark look on his face, he wanted to be anywhere but there.

  “Goddamn cunt! You fucking ruined everything! You should’ve done what you were told and kept your fucking mouth shut. This is all your fault!”

  Jeffrey was agitated and pacing across the floor. A nine millimeter was in his hand and he gestured wildly with his finger hooked in the trigger guard.

  “Dad’s in jail because of you! All the accounts are frozen. The houses are being watched. All of them! My passport is blocked, and I had to hide and sneak into my own country like I’m some goddamn illegal crossing the border. I’m stuck in this goddamn bumfuck hell-hole because of you and that redneck asshole you’ve been fucking!”

  “Hey, Mr. Townsend, take it easy with the gun.”

  “You shut the fuck up! If you had done your job, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  Table saw Brick move in a bit closer on his right side, near the corner of the shack. Stud was right behind him. Everyone was armed, but the shack was old and the condition of the wood wouldn’t stop any bullets if Jeffie-boy decided to fire at any of them. They had thought to surround the place, but Table doubted the rotted walls would even slow down any shot and one of his brothers could easily get caught in the crossfire. It would also be a problem in that Lori and Angel were right there in that room. He glanced at Brick, and the older man shook his head. Not yet.

  “Fucking bitch. Think you can get away from me? You think a divorce is gonna work? I own you!” Spit flew from his mouth as he screamed into Lori’s ear.

  He reached out and pressed the gun against her forehead hard enough that Table knew there would be a bruise. Another one to add to her collection of hurts from this piece of shit. His instinct was to rush in and grab both his girls, but that would ensure Lori’s death and maybe Angel’s. The man was desperate and crazy. Not a good combination.

  “Please, Jeffrey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can make it right if you�
��ll let me. Let’s leave now and we can be back in DC by tomorrow and I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll fix it. We’ll leave the baby here for the club to find. Give me my phone back and I’ll send one last text and they’ll come get her. We’ll be long gone and there won’t be any reason for them to come after us.”

  Table could hear the pleading in her voice as she begged to keep Angel safe. She wasn’t stupid. She knew if she left with Jeffrey her life would be over in a matter of hours. There was only one way this was going to end.

  “You don’t get it, you stupid cunt. Your fucking biker gang is the least of my worries. The big bastard you’ve been spreading your legs for is probably cock-deep in another whore by now. It’s the fucking Columbians! When the Feds got that fucking tip about the arms dealing, they seized everything. All the warehouses where the guns were stockpiled. It’s gone. Every last fucking piece and every last fucking dime! Do you know what that means? Do you, Vivian?”

  He pushed the gun harder into her skin, punctuating his words.

  Lori shook her head. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. “If it’s money, I can pay you back. I can release my trust fund to you. The investments should have made millions by now and I’ll give you every penny if we leave now.”

  The guard tried again. “That isn’t a bad idea, Mr. Townsend. A baby would slow things down. We can still get out of here before those bikers find us. Getting her money would make a big difference.”

  “I said shut the fuck up! You were paid to find her and were supposed to kill her and make it look like an accident.”

  “Your father didn’t think it was a good idea to have her killed just yet. He only wanted her scared and isolated, kept on the move because he might still need her for the foundation.”