by Brook Wilder
I take all that in. Truth laid bare. My heart seizes in my chest at the thought Lena would use me like this.
“But I never gave him anything, James. I swear—”
“You swearing on anything isn’t worth shit right now,” I scoff. “I can’t believe that I actually…”
“All of my feelings for you are real,” she says, voice pleading. “I never lied about that. Never.”
I want to believe her. I want to trust her. But it’s too soon for that. I steel myself against her words with a firm frown.
“So you didn’t give anything to Marc. You were obviously going to when we found you getting ready to sneak into the cooler.”
“I was trying to stall, telling him I’d soon have some information for him. He’s been getting impatient; I thought I could stall him some more by giving a little to him with the promise of more, trying to do damage control.”
“Now Marc will have nothing and we have you.”
I start to pace. I could wear a trench into the floor. This is dicey on all angles.
“What about what you said before? He wants control of the area? He must want to push his own shit.”
Lena gets my hint.
“Meth,” she answers. “Whole hell of a lot of it. He was going to use the power vacuum created by you and the Grizzlies being taken down to expand distribution when the Vipers took over Tomahawk.”
Dom, Abel, and I exchange a look. Marc broke truce—bad enough. But meth? He’d flood this entire area with that shit and Tomahawk would be worse off than if this were just a mere turf war with another MC.
“Fuck.”
Dom comes over to me.
“What do you want to do, man? This shit can go zero to one hundred real damn quick.”
“I know.”
“We need to act soon.”
“I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lena
Done being questioned, I’m gagged. James doesn’t want to hear more of what I have to say, and Dom and Abel are quick to move their conversation along.
“We need to strike while Marc thinks he has the upper hand,” Dom says. “Right now, he thinks no one knows about his little covert operation.”
“You could end up making things worse with a preemptive strike,” Abel warns. “It’d give him more than enough reason to claim that this is your fault.”
“Nah.” James shakes his head. “That shit at the barbeque, remember? He’s the one who threw the first stone.”
Another peculiar look crosses Abel’s face before he smiles.
“I see there’s going to be no talking you out of this.”
“None. Here’s what we’re going to do…”
James launches into a plan to hit up the Snake Pit. Eye-for-an-eye type deal as far as James is concerned. They seem to think that’s how to strike back at the heart of Marc’s operations, but they’re wrong. Marc will never stop. An attack like that? He’d still have his drugs and all the more reason to ruin everything that’s dear to the Grizzlies—and to James.
The cloth in my mouth obstructs my being able to tell them this. They’re sound-boarding off each other and they don’t even know what they’re getting themselves into. I work my mouth against the gag until I manage to spit it out.
“You guys are going about this all wrong,” I tell them.
All three men look to me. James and Dom are the most wary; Abel looks like he would be open to listening to me. Must be the cop in him.
“What do you mean, Lena?”
“If you hit up the Snake Pit, nothing is going to change,” I say. Marc will just be pissed, but the drugs will still flow. That’s the real issue here—the drugs. You take out those and Marc will be a hell of a lot more wounded than if you hit the Pit, and the thing that would tear Tomahawk apart would be out of play.”
No one answers me when I’m done. They’re all contemplative, casting furtive glances to each other. Finally, James speaks up.
“How do we effect the flow of his drugs?”
Relief floods me; he’s at least willing to listen to me on this one.
“Marc’s downfall is he thinks he’s invincible. The warehouse his people cook out of is the only warehouse. You get rid of it, you break Marc.”
“Meth lab is going to be tricky,” Abel says. “I’ve seen what one does to a home. You’re talking a huge explosion. A lot of people could get hurt if you don’t play this right.”
“Definitely sounds hella risky,” Dom agrees. He looks to me. “Why are you giving all this up?”
I shrug; I figure that should be obvious, shouldn’t it?
“Marc and the Vipers are vile,” I tell them. “I’ve been with them for years, never knowing that there was something better out there.” I look to James. “I never knew people like you existed. I want to try and make things right.”
James stares at me. Abel and Dom do, too, but James is the only one that I have eyes for. He’s the only one out of all three of them whose opinion of me matters. I hope he can see that I’m sincere. Yes, I lied. Yes, I was sent here by Marc to hurt him and his people. But I never lied about how I felt. Every emotion was true.
He walks over to me. His steps are deliberate, as if he’s testing the weight of them with every step that draws him closer to me. I swallow down a breath and I hope – I damn near pray – that he takes my offer for what it is: a genuine desire to do right by him and the Grizzlies.
My heart jumps when he reaches behind himself and pulls forward a knife. His eyes stay on me as he takes my hands and…
Cuts the binds.
“Go clean yourself up,” he says. “And then we’ll get this shit started.”
I’m dumbfounded. I’m shocked. Pleased, but shocked. The only thing I can do is nod, the surprise that’s surely on my face mirroring the looks that Dom and Abel give James. I rub my wrists where the ties were a little tight, and nod as I stand.
“O-okay.”
“Bathroom’s down the hall.”
That’s all he says before he goes to Abel, speaking in a low voice. Perhaps James won’t want me anymore after this, but this is at least a step that he’s willing to take.
Chapter Twenty-Three
James
This whole thing is fucking batshit, but it’s our only chance to fix the complete insanity that’s been the last few hours. We’re gonna hit Marc where it hurts. We’re gonna turn his little cook operation on its head.
I just don’t like one thing about this whole deal.
Lena’s involvement.
She’s back from the bathroom. I watch her as I lean against the wall of the interrogation room and she speaks on the phone with Marc, arranging a meeting.
“Yeah, I’ve got everything,” she lies to him. “I can bring it to the warehouse in an hour… Mmm… Of course… I love you too, Marc.”
I bristle at the sentiment I’ve been forced to hear twice more. Even after all this, it’s hard to hear her say those things; it makes me wonder if a part of her still loves Marc or if that’s all a lie, too.
“Okay.” She hangs up and breathes in. “He bought it. He’s going to meet me with some other leadership there. He thinks I’m going to give him information.”
“And what happens when you don’t?” Abel asks.
“Not getting that far,” Lena says. “The place has a ton of security, but they know me. I can slip away on my way to the meeting room, start a fire, and then be out while everyone’s panicking.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. Lena looks over to me, perplexed. “Are you saying this plan of yours hinges on you going in there, alone, to set a meth lab on fire?”
“Did you think we were going to show up there together and storm the place?”
I hold my tongue. Yes, I want to say. Because like hell do I want her and our baby put in danger like that! Whatever has happened between us has done nothing to dampen the protective streak I’ve developed for her.
“You have no idea what could go wrong.”
I want to protest. It doesn’t matter that she’s more knowledgeable about the inner workings of Marc’s operations! Doesn’t she realize…
“The warehouse is an unassuming shack up top, with guards outside and inside. The door that leads in is the only way in, and it’s the only way out too. You wouldn’t get far before you were overwhelmed,” she says, painfully matter of fact.
Still, I don’t like this.
“We could set the outside—the shack—on fire. Let it do the work for us.”
Lena sighs. “James, there’s five feet of concrete between the shack and the underground labs. You would only end up burning down the shack, and Marc would know you were after him.”
I don’t like this, but her reasoning makes sense. If we blow this, who knows where we would be in terms of putting an end to Marc’s operations? It’s a nasty, unfavorable rock-meets-hard-place situation.
“Fuck.” I run my hand through my hair. “I’m going to talk to Bones and Houston. Hold on.”
I leave before anyone can stop me. The buzz hasn’t died down since I’ve been gone. Bones gives me a concerned look when I approach him.
“You don’t look good.”
Ha! If he only knew the half of it…
I give the run-down of Lena’s plan. Whatever landed her here with her lies, no one’s rushing or happy to send a pregnant woman to the wolves.
“Seems risky. But this could be worth the risk,” Bones muses. “How do you feel about it?”
Honestly? I hate it. But Bones is right, it might be the only way to not only head off Marc’s plans but also restore some of the lost faith in Lena.
“I think it’s what we have to do in order to set this shit right,” I say.
“Well, you know we’re behind you all the way.”
***
It’s decided that, to minimize the possibility of tipping off Marc, Lena and I will drive to the shack. She’ll let me out before she gets to the shack, and I’ll follow on foot to the edge of the wood to watch out for things. Thirty minutes out of Lena being under, I’ll call Bones to signal for back-up if she’s not up by then.
It’s a quickly laid plan. I hate rushing. But it’s do-or-die and I’m not one to go down without a fight.
Lena’s already outside, waiting. We’re going to be alone for the first time since this all blew up. With a sigh, I walk outside.
“Time to go,” I say to Lena.
She looks up to me; our eyes meet, and, in the moment of slight vulnerability, I can see we’re both hurting. I just don’t know if Lena is hurting because she got caught or if it’s because she truly feels the things she claimed for me.
I break our eye contact. It’s not something I can or should be thinking about right now.
The gravel crunches as Lena follows me. We’re quiet as we get into the pick-up and she starts up the ignition. It’s tense in here. Electric. Neither of us seems to know what to say, but it feels like the silence is worse than anything we could possibly say to each other.
“James, what’s going to happen when this is over?”
It’s not the question I expect; it’s one I don’t know how to answer just yet.
“What do you mean?”
“With me. Us. This baby. When I set the place ablaze, I’m not going to be able to go back to Marc. So, what will I be going back to?”
Her question is loaded. It’s full of a need to know things I’m not sure I can let her know. I know what I want, but… Do I dare even hope for that?
“Why don’t we take it one step at a time?” I suggest. “Then… we’ll see.”
She accepts the answer with a hum. That’s the end of our conversation. Instead of talking, our ride is filled with bumpy roads and gravel crunching beneath the tires. We end up turning down an old country road and, before we can see the shack, she stops.
“This is as close as I can drive you.”
I nod, unbuckling. It’s now or never. Do or die.
There’s so much I could say to Lena as I look to her pale face. To be careful. That, despite everything, there’s still a part of me that doesn’t want to lose her. What I say is none of that. But it’s the truth.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” I tell her, and get out of the truck.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lena
I’ll be waiting for you.
It’s the most comforting thing I’ve heard all evening. Though my heart pounds and my anxiety spikes, I’m able to hold on to that thought as I meander down the road the rest of the way to the shack that hides the underground warehouse.
It’s as unassuming as the safehouse, really. There’s nothing special about it. If someone who didn’t know what this place was were to come up to it, they would be more interested in the pair of guards that flank the door than the shack itself.
Killing the engine, I walk up.
“I’m here to see Marc.”
The two guards eye me. Recognition clicks, and they nod.
“Hey ain’t in yet, but you can go on down.”
One of the guards steps forward and opens up the door. It leads to a cold, steel elevator shaft. I step in.
I’ve been here before. Marc meets his distributors here, and sometimes throws ‘parties’ where he brings them and some of the girls from the Snake Pit to entertain them. Horrible memories linger down these meth-coated halls; I’ll be happy when the place goes up in flame.
Waiting for me at the bottom of the shaft is another guard. He’s silent as he grunts to me and gets ready to lead me to the meeting room to wait.
I blow past him, not giving him the chance to take the lead.
“Bathroom.” I say over my shoulder. “The baby’s sitting on my bladder.”
The guard says nothing. What better way to put off a big, tough man than baby talk?
Down the hall. To the right. Left. I make it look like I really am going to the bathroom before I backtrack to the hall I need to be in. There are different labs, but I go into the one that’s the main lab. No one is here at this hour, but I don’t want someone coming along and asking why I’m where I’m not supposed to be.
The meth lab is a depressing place. There are stations set up in rows, almost like a chemistry lab in school. All day, people work here, cooking meth up for Marc. Sometimes they’re people that are here willingly; a lot of times they’re there because Marc’s made them.
Working quickly, I grab one of the burners. I go to the prep station where gloves and other equipment are held. I find a cloth and douse it in alcohol, then I go to one of the supply cabinets and set up shop.
It’ll take a few minutes for the burner to heat up after I plug it in and turn it on. The delay will give me time to get closer to the elevator shaft so that I can make a quick escape. On top of the heating burner, I put the alcohol-doused rag; it and every other chemical-laden item in the closet will go up in a whoosh as soon as the burner gets hot enough to set the flammable cloth on fire.
It’s not the most refined way to set a fire, but it’ll work in this instance.
Closing the closet and locking it to bide more time, I slip out of the room, immediately running into someone.
“Hello there, Lena.”
“What are you doing, snooping around.”
My stomach drops as two pairs of hands hoist me up. I recognize those voices; they’re Eric and Lyle, two of Marc’s most sadistic men. Eric’s a blond and would probably be attractive if he weren’t such a bastard; Lyle keeps his head shaved like some kind of racist. I don’t want to be in the company of either of them and I try to pull away, but their holds are tight.
“Boss wants to see you,” Eric sneers.
“Then let me go and I’ll go see him,” I say. “I’m here to meet him.”
“Yeah, about that…” Eric grins and leans forward to speak to me. “You see, boss knows you’ve been up to some funny business. He has a few questions for you.”
With little care to my comfort, they both grip my upper arms and practically drag me down the hall. I don’t understand. Is this a set-up? Have I set a trap only to unknowingly walk into one myself?
I say nothing as I’m carted down the hall. Eric and Lyle make jokes with each other, and don’t even bother to acknowledge me outside of taunting me.
“Bet you thought you were a smart little pretty, hm?” Eric teases. “Wait till Marc gets a hold of you.”