A Desperate Man

by Tia Fielding

  “What’s going on, Jimmy?”

  “The trafficking. I…” Jimmy’s gaze wandered from Quinn to a map of Nevada on the wall and he seemed to get stuck staring at it as he thought. “I thought it would be easy, you know, just…just business.”

  Ah. A criminal with a conscience. How refreshing.

  “You know that’s why Ian or even Robert never went into it, right? Because that’s first-hand seeing what it does to people,” Quinn spoke quietly, as if not to disturb the weird balance in the room.

  Jimmy nodded slowly. “Yeah…I thought…I thought it was a pussy move, not to take the offer from the Skulls.”

  Quinn made an educated guess. “But now you can’t exactly say no?”

  “Yeah. They should be bringing in a load at some point tonight.” He looked disgusted briefly. Before he could continue, his phone buzzed on the table.

  Jimmy sighed and grabbed it, then frowned at the text. He quickly tapped out a reply to whatever it was and chuckled.

  “For fuck’s sake…” For a moment, he looked so incredibly done it almost made Quinn worried.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, and when Jimmy looked into his eyes, he saw something…off.

  “I’m not sure yet.” There was something weird in the tone, too.

  The back of Quinn’s neck tingled unpleasantly, so he continued the previous topic. “So, you kinda want out of the deal before it even starts, but you can’t back out now.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Exactly.” He looked at Quinn. “If you were my Arthur, what would you do?”

  Quinn took the question seriously, because this was nothing if not a serious fucking situation.

  He thought for a moment, tried to put himself in the shoes of Jimmy’s right hand man, like Arthur had been for Ian for the last decade.

  “I wouldn’t have gone into business with them in the first place, and no, it’s not because of Ian or Robert’s beliefs, it’s because of my own,” he started. “But if this was the situation at hand, I’d try to do the bare minimum for as long as I could. Now, I don’t know what exactly you’ve agreed to, but I’d find a fucking excuse to get out of the deal, because those people, they’re the most vulnerable ones and…” Quinn was getting riled up, so he stopped talking and took in a deep breath.

  The phone buzzed again. Jimmy picked it up and frowned, then put it down. Then he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a gun that he placed on the desk next to the phone.

  “So you’re a cop?” His expression was neutral, his hands off the pistol.

  A weird, sudden calm came over Quinn, then. He nodded. “Yeah.”

  Jimmy let his gaze fall to the gun and sighed. “I don’t get the point,” he said quietly. “Why are you here?”

  That made Quinn chuckle tiredly. “I fucking wish I would’ve been smart enough to ask that question a few weeks back.”

  “What?” Jimmy looked at him like he was nuts.

  “See, I thought I was here to oversee the situation of you taking over. Because Ian was almost gone before you interfered with the process.” He couldn’t help the tone his voice took then.

  “Look, taking Dad out wasn’t…”

  When he didn’t elaborate, Quinn shook his head with disgust. “The Skulls wanted him out of the way because of the shipment coming in tonight?”

  “He was knocking on death’s door anyway.” Jimmy shrugged. He looked distracted for a brief moment before leveling Quinn with a gaze. “So?”

  “I thought I was here for you, but it turns out I’m here for your friends out there.” He pointed at the door over his shoulder. “They needed someone here to figure out if the Burned Skulls are moving into town once Ian’s gone. We just didn’t know you’d interfere.”

  “You’re being awfully chatty for an undercover fucking cop,” Jimmy said. “Why?”

  “Because I figure I have very little to lose here. Now that you know, I fully expect to end up in a shallow grave in the desert before sunrise.”

  Jimmy looked surprised for a moment, but then he got serious again. “Yeah.”

  “How many Skulls are there out there?” he asked, trying to figure out how this would all go.

  “Just one. He’s here to check everything’s ready, but more might show up.”

  “I don’t know what to do here,” Quinn admitted, because he could see the same sentiment in Jimmy’s expression. “I’m supposed to be leaving town at seven thirty.”

  When Jimmy didn’t seem to have anything to say right then, Quinn asked, “How long have you had the sheriff in your pocket?”

  Jimmy chuckled at the question. “Technically it’s mostly been Dad’s pocket until now. How do you think we’re dealing so easily here? Yet things still stay calm?”

  It did make sense, really. A small-town cop gone corrupt could easily get a nice nest egg for retirement while still doing his job. Looking away was easy.

  “Does he know about the Skulls?”

  He knew the answer before Jimmy spoke. “It was partially his idea. More money for all of us.”

  So it was greed, more than anything.

  “It surprises me that Ian went that way, bribing the sheriff’s department, I mean.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “It was Robert at first, hell, probably grandpa before him. But I know Robert had a deal already.”

  “Wait, but Aaron’s dad wasn’t dirty?” Quinn frowned at the mere thought of Sheriff Larsen having been a dirty cop.

  “No, the deal wasn’t with him.”

  It made sense now. It had been with Henderson, even back then. Quinn closed his eyes for a few seconds. Fuck he hated this fucking legacy.

  “So, what do you want to do?” he asked Jimmy. He just wanted tonight to be over, whether he survived it or not.

  “You said you’re here for them?” At Quinn’s nod, Jimmy hummed thoughtfully. “So that means bigger guns are coming, because no doubt you’ve reported back that Dad’s dead and I’ve made a deal with the Skulls.”

  Again, Quinn nodded. “I don’t know when they’re coming, though.”

  Jimmy let out an incredulous snort.

  “No, really, I’ve no clue. I know it’s gonna be big, they want to get the Skulls for this so they can get them in Vegas, so they’re taking this very seriously. It’s just that I haven’t been able to get hold of my handler and they didn’t tell him that it was about the gang, either. They sent me here blind and they didn’t tell him either, so he wouldn’t warn me.”

  Jimmy looked disgusted. “That’s fucked up, even on cop standards.”

  “Tell me about it. Where are your guys anyway?”

  “Originally, the shipment was supposed to arrive tomorrow night, so I’d given them the evening off. I didn’t have time to call them before you got here and now, here we are.”

  Quinn sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging a bit. “Do you want my professional opinion?”

  His cousin chuckled, and the sound turned into a belly laugh for a moment. Quinn had to smile, too. He wasn’t sure how this would end, but whoa boy was it tragicomical as fuck.

  “Sure, let’s get your ‘professional opinion,’” Jimmy wheezed before wiping his eyes.

  “Let me go, then make sure the Skulls, as many as possible, stay here when they arrive. Tell them your mom needs you and that trumps everything else, especially because you’re the reason she’s leaving town anyway.” Jimmy looked pissed off, then deflated, at the statement. “Once the cavalry arrives, and you’ll know when it does, give yourself up. Let them handle the Skulls. Keep your own guys alive and bear responsibility of your fucking stupid deal.”

  Jimmy bared his teeth in an unconscious expression, then huffed loudly. “Yeah, because it’s that easy, is it?”

  “Well that, or you leave them here, take Caroline and fucking try to run, but I don’t think you’ll get that far. Unless you have a backup plan in place.” Quinn was pretty sure that Jimmy wouldn’t have one, not like Karen and Arthur’s family. Jimmy had thought this would b
e his kingdom to run, and when did kings need backup plans?

  They both tensed when another rumble of a motorcycle sounded from the front of the warehouse.

  Tick-tock, tick-tock.

  Finally, Jimmy all but jumped to his feet, grabbed his gun, and then stuffed it into his waistband.

  He put his phone in his pocket and nudged his head toward the door.

  “Go on then. I don’t fucking like that you lied to the whole family and being a cop—” Jimmy literally spat on the floor and glared at Quinn. “But you have a kid to think about, a family. I….” He looked at the map with unseeing eyes again, then shook himself as if clearing his head. “This isn’t your fault. Any of this. Fucked up as all of this is, I don’t want to kill you. I know this won’t go well either way, I guess it’s fucking…I don’t know, less on my conscience or some shit.”

  Quinn got up and went to the door. This might’ve been his only chance to get out, if that was what Jimmy really meant. For all Quinn knew, Jimmy could’ve waited for a moment to put a bullet in the back of his head when he turned around.

  Swallowing hard, Quinn stepped outside the office and they walked toward the front where he could hear the bikers chatting.

  The two Skulls were stereotypical bikers, big and burly.

  “I’ll talk to you later, cuz,” Jimmy said when they got close enough for introductions. He held out his hand and Quinn grasped it. They did the manly clap on the back thing, just as a car rolled through the gates.

  A sheriff’s cruiser. The bikers all looked bored, more than anything. They must’ve known the sheriff well.

  The momentary panic in Jimmy’s eyes was reflected from Quinn’s. They watched together as Henderson got out of the cruiser and walked closer.

  The man looked at them, his narrowed gaze shrewd as fuck.

  “I wasn’t expecting a family reunion, Jimmy,” Henderson drawled. “Especially after those texts I sent you.” He glanced at the bikers, then back at Jimmy and Quinn. “So what’s the deal here?”

  Fuck if I know now.

  And then, as his gaze mapped the situation, taking in potential exit points, he saw movement on the edge where the lights reached by the chain link fence. He tore his eyes away from the figure there, because he would’ve known that body shape anywhere.

  What the fuck was Aaron doing there?

  Chapter 20

  Aaron had always figured that Brody, happy-go-lucky stoner that he was, made his way through life in a cloud of smoke and oblivion. So it was a hell of a surprise when Brody met him in the growing darkness at the entrance to the junkyard and pressed a handgun into his hands. A Glock.

  “Figured you’d be turning up at some point,” he drawled. “You know how to use that?”

  “Yeah.” The weight of a firearm in his hands was familiar, almost comforting. “Of course.”

  “Because I think you might need it in there,” Brody said. “He said to give him thirty minutes, and I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been that long yet. You want me to call the cops?”

  A pair of headlights bounced down the uneven road between the junkyard and the warehouse as the sheriff’s cruiser crawled past.

  “The cops in this town are owned by the MacGregors,” Aaron said, anger rising in his gut. “At least the sheriff is.”

  “Well, fuck,” Brody said. “I guess it’s just you and me then, huh?”

  They moved across the dirt road in the darkness.

  From the outside, there wasn’t much difference between Brody’s junkyard and Jimmy MacGregor’s warehouse except scale: there was a collection of old junker cars in the warehouse yard that would rival the junkyard’s collection, they were just slightly newer models on Jimmy’s side. And, in the circle of light provided by the spotlights on the exterior wall of the warehouse, there were three motorbikes. They might have been sleek and shiny usually, with their chrome fixtures and leather seats, but tonight they were covered in dust from a long ride.

  The sheriff’s cruiser turned into the yard, headlights illuminating the bikes.

  Two guys slipped out from inside the warehouse. They were both wearing leather jackets covered in what Aaron could only assume were patches from the Skulls. Jimmy and Quinn followed them out, and Aaron’s heart squeezed: Quinn was alive. For now. But even ‘for now’ seemed like a hell of a lot more than he could have hoped for.

  Brody tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed toward the other end of the fence. Then he slipped along there, swallowed by shadows, and Aaron realized he’d been telling him where he was going.

  Aaron watched as Uncle Will got out of his cruiser. His boots crunched in the dirt, and his voice carried.

  “I wasn’t expecting a family reunion, Jimmy,” he said in a slow, casual tone. “Especially after those texts I sent you. So what’s the deal here?”

  Aaron froze as Quinn’s gaze sought him out and, unerringly, found him, just like it always had, across classrooms, and football fields, and streets, and parties, and now here. That meant something; Aaron knew it did. This thing between them had always been magnetic, whether they were pulled together or their poles had shifted and they were pushing hard away.

  Aaron moved further along the fence line in the darkness, reaching a point where the wire flapped uselessly. It had been cut at some point, and nobody had fixed it. Who’d be dumb enough to break onto Jimmy MacGregor’s territory? Nobody who knew him.

  Aaron crouched, gritting his teeth against the pain in his stump.

  In the headlights of the cruiser, Uncle Will jerked his head at Quinn. “He’s a cop.”

  Aaron saw the look that passed between the cousins, but if there had ever been any mercy in Jimmy MacGregor, he couldn’t show it now. Not in front of Uncle Will, and definitely not in front of the Skulls.

  “That true?” one of the Skulls asked.

  “I’m fucking dealing with it,” Jimmy said, and then he had his gun out and was pointing it at Quinn. “Get on your knees.”

  “You gonna do it here?” Quinn asked, a corner of his mouth tugging back in a sneer. “Out in the open?”

  Jimmy moved behind him and tugged the gun from Quinn’s waistband, tossing it aside. “Get on your fucking knees, Quinn.”

  Quinn got on his knees in the dirt.

  Aaron didn’t have a good shot. Uncle Will was blocking him—not that he gave a fuck about Uncle Will, but if he missed Jimmy, that gave Jimmy a chance to shoot Quinn. Fuck fuck fuck. The last time he’d been in a firefight, at least he’d had body armor and an M4 carbine. And backup that wasn’t a stoner friend from high school.

  Fuck it. He had to take the shot.

  And yet, before he did, a shot rang out from the other side of the yard, and Jimmy yelped and spun away.

  Brody.

  Aaron pushed his way through the hole in the fence, wincing when the wire squealed.

  In front of the warehouse, there was a flurry of movement. The two Skulls had dived for the cover offered by Uncle Will’s cruiser, without realizing yet that while they were hidden from Brody’s view, they were still in Aaron’s. Aaron was still focused on Jimmy though. Jimmy’s gun dangled from his fingers, and blood stained his shirt and was dripping down his arm. And, on the ground in front of him Quinn was scrabbling away.

  Uncle Will, no doubt alerted by the squeal of the fence, gripped Quinn by the back of the shirt and hauled him up. Jammed the barrel of his police-issue handgun into the side of his head. “Aaron?” he called into the darkness, turning slowly and keeping Quinn between him and Aaron, and the cruiser between him and Brody. “That you, kiddo?”

  Aaron froze.

  “If anyone takes another shot,” Uncle Will called, his voice steady, “then Quinn MacGregor is a dead man.”

  “I’m a dead man anyway,” Quinn yelled. He had a grin on his face. It was the one that always warned Aaron he was going to do something reckless, like pull the fire alarm at school, or stand up in the back of a moving truck, or crash a lame party and kiss a boy he hardly knew. “Take the
fucking shot!”

  Aaron had never been able to say no to that reckless boy.

  He took the shot.

  * * * *

  “Aaron?”

  “Yeah?” Aaron scooched forward on his butt, leaves and dirt crunching under the seat of his jeans. He tucked Quinn’s long hair behind his ears, enjoying the scowl on Quinn’s face as Quinn pretended to hate it, but always let him do it anyway.

  “I’d let you do just about anything to me, you know,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah, I know.” Aaron felt a fluttering thrill in his gut. “Same.”

  * * * *

  Quinn hit the ground, and Aaron didn’t even look at him. He took his second shot, this one hitting Uncle Will square in the chest. Uncle Will spun on his feet, and slumped against his cruiser.

  The Skulls moved at last, diving around the other side of the cruiser. Aaron heard two more shots, and hoped Brody was picking them off like tin cans on a fence.

  Aaron moved forward out of the shadows, listing like a drunk as his knee refused to take his weight on his prosthetic. He caught his balance again with difficulty, pain ripping through him. “Quinn? Quinn!”

  He knew he’d hit him with that first shot. He just hoped it wasn’t fatal.

  Quinn was rolling to his knees. “Get him,” he gasped. “The sheriff. Get him.”

  Because of course Uncle Will was wearing a vest. Aaron’s shot had probably hurt like hell and punched all the air out of him, but he wasn’t down for the count yet.

  Aaron grabbed Uncle Will, pulling him up and turning him around, and shoved him hard into the side of the cruiser. He held him there as Quinn joined him, and Quinn tugged the cuffs off Will’s belt and cuffed his hands. Then Quinn stooped to pick up Will’s dropped firearm.

  “I’ll go left, you go right,” Quinn said, nodding at the cruiser.

  Aaron shoved Uncle Will to his knees and nodded.

  They rounded the cruiser, to find one of the Skulls slumped against it, dead. The other one had made it halfway to the open gates of the compound before Brody had put a bullet in his back.

  “Holy fuck,” Quinn said. “Who’s your backup? Annie Oakley?”