Warriors (Gutter Dogs Book 5)

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Warriors (Gutter Dogs Book 5) Page 4

by Carey Lewis


  “What about the other ones? The idiots that run around.”

  “They’re still running around.”

  “Outcasts are bigger than Cyrus,” The Boss turned to look out at the yard again, thinking out loud. “He brings them in for what? Muscle? Goes to the Black Knights and wants muscle on top of that? He goes to Mesiah, trying to go around me, alright, that makes sense.”

  “He’s looking at going around you?”

  “That way he doesn’t need my contacts. Not if he has another way to get the shit up here.”

  “What if we get him first? Me and Mick get him, make him tell us who his man is that’s supplying.”

  “He’s got the Outcasts around, he might be looking for that. He’s on good terms with Mesiah? No way that’s an option.”

  “But if he’s on good with Mesiah, he’s got no use for you anymore. You’re out anyway.”

  “Thing is, he’s good with Mesiah, what’s he need the Outcasts for? Black Knights would be all the muscle he needs.”

  “Maybe he’s not good with him yet, brought Zex, Lex and Windex, whatever they call themselves in until he is good.”

  “Maybe. But why them? He’s got the money to afford better. Outcasts are only a couple steps above the Boppers. What about ours, we seeing a drop in our demand?” Referring to the drug restocks requested by the dealers.

  As a reward for getting and staying clean, The Boss made Bulldog his bodyguard and his distributor - the one that supplied the dealers they sub-contracted the work out to. He handled the orders and the distribution and placement of the drugs from The Boss’s half of every shipment.

  “Nothing. Everything on schedule.”

  “What’s Mick saying, anything unusual? All our dealers accounted for?”

  “It’s like any other day boss.”

  Mick was the one that actually delivered the orders. He’d show up, Bulldog would give him the drugs, Mick would deliver it to the stash houses. Bulldog vouched for him, that’s how he came to be on The Boss’s payroll, but Mick liked to drink and fuck so there needed to be a gap between The Boss and Mick, just in case he ran his mouth to the wrong person.

  The Boss sat thinking, watching the sun go down, casting shadows of trees across the yard.

  “The Outcasts. He doesn’t have them to muscle me out of territory or he’d be doing that already. Get some of ours gone missing before we know it and can fight back.”

  “But we know he’s making a move?”

  “He’s making a move.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing we can do until we figure out what it is.”

  “I’m not used to this, sitting around and waiting.”

  “You ever play Risk?”

  “Nah. Something about a game you play six hours just to lose. Never had the patience for it.”

  “Got to see the board before you know where you stand. See all the pieces before you make a move. That’s how I was taken by Jamal with those two guys that set me up. My greed dictated my actions, not logic.”

  “That was the first time you fired me,” Bulldog said, smiling at the memory of long ago.

  “Your greed of pleasing me brought him into my office. I didn’t see the pieces on the board, just started moving mine into a trap.” The Boss took a moment. “Find someone to play Risk with Bulldog, you’ll learn everything you need to know.”

  They both sat in silence, the sun almost down now.

  “Cowboy’s coming in on the train tomorrow. Want you to go over to the place, grab the motorcycle that’s there, drop it off for him. Leave it in the lot.”

  “A motorcycle?”

  “The Triumph Rocket Three Roadster. It’s on the wagon, just attach the truck to it, bring it over to the train station. Take it off the wagon and leave it for him. Leave the key on the rear wheel.”

  “I can just pick him up, bring him back here.”

  “He wants the bike. Says it’s the closest thing to a horse.”

  It came as more than a surprise when they saw the two giant men standing at the side of Cyrus’s door, both wearing plaid, standing like bouncers. Dax was sitting on the step between them, smoking a cigarette when he saw the Boppers standing on the sidewalk, talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Then Cleon walked toward them, slight smile on his face and bounce to his step, came up and crossed his arms, looking the three of them up and down.

  “What you want little man?” Rex asked.

  Cleon laughed to himself, said, “I want to know who the fuck you are.”

  “We’re Bops, who the fuck are you?”

  “You’re not Boppers, we’re Boppers. Can’t even get the name right. So let me ask you again. Who the fuck are you?”

  “We’re Boppers now,” Max said. “Got the plaid and everything.”

  “Shut up fat man, what is that, a blanket? You cut a hole in a blanket and stuck your giant head through.”

  “Only thing would fit me.”

  “This is bullshit,” Cleon said and tried to walk in the house. He was stopped by Rex putting his massive hand on Cleon’s chest.

  “Man don’t want to see you,” Rex said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did I stutter small-fry? I say the man busy.”

  “Ajax,” Cleon said.

  Ajax jogged up the walkway, the other Boppers behind him. Dax stood up from the step, pushing Cleon and the Boppers away from Max and Rex.

  “You mind taking this clump of fuck out?”

  “You got balls little man, I’ll give you that.”

  The lead pipe slid out of Ajax’s sleeve, dropped into his hand ever so slightly. He was ready to get swinging.

  “Ajax, don’t,” Dax said.

  “Listen to me fat boys, I’m getting in there to see Cyrus. Up to you if you want me stepping over you to do it.”

  Now Rex and Max were taking a step toward the Boppers, Dax struggled to stay between them.

  “Call me fat again, see what you see then,” Max said.

  “See what I see then? Are you serious?” Cleon said. “You’re wearing a goddamn blanket, what do you expect people to call you?”

  “Ajax. Ajax, listen to me,” Dax said, trying to get his attention. “Listen.”

  The fire went out of his eyes for a split second as Ajax looked to his brother.

  “Let’s go to the park huh? I got some shit we can smoke, we can all calm down. Let’s just relax, yeah? Trust me.”

  Ajax thought about it, saw all eyes on him. He looked back to his brother, then looked to his brothers in arms. “Free dope sounds good. You like that Cleon?”

  “We don’t do that shit.”

  “Maybe we do this time.”

  Cleon wasn’t very happy, but he took a step back, relaxed. “Big tough guys guarding a door like bouncer rejects.”

  “You wake up the man’s grand mama we going to have some problems.”

  “Bouncer for the sleep of the fucking elderly. Made it far in life.”

  “Suggest you get going now.”

  “Just a quick question,” Cochise said, coming to the front of the group, “why doesn’t Cyrus want to see us?”

  “He’s seeing Lex, see if you pint sizes belong in the plaid union.”

  “The park guys,” Dax said, starting to gently nudge them back up the walkway.

  “You tell Cyrus my cousin wants to talk to him. And you tell him I’m not impressed.”

  “I’ll be sure to put that on the very bottom of the list of fucks to give.”

  Cleon swatted Dax’s arms away, came around to stand in front of Rex and Max, asked, “which of you is tougher?”

  Max and Rex looked at each other and chuckled to themselves. Cleon looked back to Ajax who came forward to stand behind him. The lead pipe slid into the palm of his hand.

  “Don’t think either of us have to be tough for you small man,” Rex said.

  “I�
��m so glad you said that. I was hoping it would be you. Ajax?”

  Cleon calmly took a step to the side. A flash of silver gleaned through the air in a sideways arc, the pipe smashing off the temple of Rex, dropping him into the garden against the house.

  “Keep rocking that blanket poncho, you pull it off,” Cleon said to Max, winked at him, then turned. “To the park,” he said and led them down the walkway and into the dark street.

  “You got some balls on you man. All my years of banging, I never had the balls to go to Mesiah. In fact, just saw him once, got scared for my life. You must really have something cooking, do a move like that.”

  Cyrus smiled, declined the joint Lex offered him.

  “I mean, shit. Must be something big, you take a risk like that.”

  Cyrus watched Lex take hauls off the joint, hold his breath, slowly let it out while trying to talk. He already watched him smoke one joint and finish four of the six beers he came with. When he showed up, Lex said they should get to know each other, see if they can’t get a conversation going. Cyrus had been sipping on the same Sapporo beer for about forty-five minutes now, letting Lex do all the talking.

  Lex cracked open another bottle, his fifth. “Don’t know how you drink that Jap crap,” he said. “You know how I got into this beer?” He was drinking Dos Equis. “It was those commercials, the one with the dude, sitting there with his elbow on his knee like this?” he demonstrated the pose from the commercial.

  “The most interesting man in the world,” Cyrus said.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Got all these bitches around him, saying shit like ‘I don’t usually blah blah blah, but when I do,’ that guy. Rocking that white hair and beard, looking all Oh Gee as fuck. Saw that commercial, says this is the beer for me. Costs a bit more, but you drink this beer, see that commercial, makes you feel good man.”

  “No bitches here though.”

  “Not yet, but that’s what we’re counting on you for,” tipping the bottle toward him with a slight wink.

  “You came to me for protection.”

  “Yeah, but then we see how you’re running things, think you got things planned Zax never did. He was happy, doing his thing, but I look at you, I see you’re a man with a plan,” he snubbed the joint out in the ashtray.

  “Just the way you come across, carry yourself. Can tell you’re the type got that higher shit in life ideal about him. Tell you what, you get those bitches in here, I start growing the white beard, tell everyone I usually don’t do shit but when I do thing.”

  “You told me Mesiah put the word out about not touching me, wanted to know why.”

  “What’d he tell you?”

  “He wouldn’t.”

  “That’s all he say?”

  “You want to know if he said what you told me was true or not?”

  “Shit man, I know it’s true. What I heard anyway. Don’t know if it actually came from him, but it’s true I heard it. What’d he say?”

  “Wouldn’t give me one way or the other.”

  “You can trust me man, it’s true I heard that.”

  One of the things his grandmother taught him, the very same woman sleeping upstairs, was to never trust someone that told you you could trust them. It had served him well so far. Not that he needed the advice, he already didn’t trust Lex. He just wanted to know what he wanted.

  “You want to ask me what I have planned.”

  “That a question?”

  “Statement of fact.”

  “You want to tell me I wouldn’t stop you. Hell Cyrus, I don’t even know what you do.”

  “Why don’t you fill me in on what you think I do.”

  “Not much,” shrugging his shoulders, “Mesiah put the word out about you, must mean you’re moving up. That’s about it.”

  “That’s it huh?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “That a thirty-eight you got tucked in your pants?”

  “Yes it is. I told you, my friend was murdered. Felt I needed the protection.”

  “Again. That’s why you came to me.”

  “Still helps me sleep at night.”

  And they stared at each other.

  “Never know what someone’s going to do. What’s going through their mind,” Cyrus said.

  “You really don’t.”

  “You can have people protecting you, what’s that mean? Person can still get you, just means they’re going to be dead after you are.”

  “But you’re dead first.”

  “Never know what someone’s got planned.”

  “You really don’t.”

  “For example, someone can come in here, kill my grandma while she’s sleeping, knowing I’m protected and therefore she’s protected and they’re going to die. But my grandma’s still dead.”

  “God forbid,” Lex said. Cyrus saw Lex didn’t know where he was going with this.

  “So what you got to do,” Cyrus leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, “you got to let this person know there’s a fate worse than death. Something so bad is going to happen that this person would wish for death. Have it be the better option. Maybe they don’t have family they care about, so that won’t do it. But do they have kneecaps? Do they have eyelids you can rip off? Do they have blood you can drain from their body slowly? I hear that you can drain blood pretty constantly for a week, you hear that? Just tie the person up, put a pail under them and drain them like a pig. Or you could do it another way, give them a tiny cut then stitch it up after a day or two. Give them enough of these cuts, get a good blood flow going. Say they heal up in a day or two, okay? Then you open up another couple while the other ones heal. Make the guy always be bleeding while he’s healing. I imagine you could keep that going for awhile.”

  “I imagine you could.”

  “I would think that’s better protection than just knowing you’re going to die,” Cyrus leaned back in his chair again, having made his point. “I would think someone hears about a guy like that he’s going to have second thoughts on bringing harm.”

  Lex smiled, “think I’m still going to keep my gun though. Just in case.”

  “Probably a good idea. You never know.”

  Lex stood up, took his last beer, “think I’m going to have this one for the road,” then walked over to the staircase, stopped before going up.

  “So protection isn’t a thing for you I imagine, not something you give a shit about. Can’t imagine why you’d go see Mesiah then. Must be business be my guess. Makes me think I was right about you. Going to give us the high quality of life shit,” and then Lex went up the stairs and left the house.

  Cyrus was glad he judged Lex correctly, always having to have the last word. Lex would never sit back and watch Cyrus be his boss, he could see the disrespect in his eyes, the way he spoke to him. Lex would make a move but by then it would be too late. Cyrus would be his boss.

  Kenzie didn’t sleep the night she came home after seeing Zax murdered. Every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing the inside of the washroom, hearing the sounds of the muffled voices and then the gunshot followed by the other one. She kept seeing herself from above, like she was watching everything, herself included. Come out of the washroom and stare at the dead body laying half on the bed and half on the floor. The vacant eyes.

  She hated that she was cliche for seeing all this, started thinking it was more the fault of movies telling her she was supposed to be seeing this shit.

  Instead, she just laid in her bed, eyes staring at the dark ceiling. It didn’t take long for every noise to become amplified. Every footstep, every car that went by, every creek in the house she thought was Lex coming to finish the job, making sure there were no witnesses.

  She wondered if she started imagining the sounds. And then she let her mind wonder; wonder to what it would be like, Lex coming up the stairs, maybe her parents coming out into the hall to investigate the sound, Lex killing them, then killing her, frozen under her blankets.

  When the sun finally came
up, she was washed with relief.

  She stayed in the house, watching movies, searching for something light hearted, not even bothering to change out of her sweat pants and tank top. She expected the cops to come at any moment but they never did.

  Her parents asked her where Zax was, why she wasn’t with him, why she wasn’t getting dressed. She told them they broke up and other than saying they never liked him, they left her alone, understanding young heartbreak. It was like the whole thing never happened. She wanted to go back there, see if she didn’t imagine it.

  When night started to fall, her fear returned. There was no way she was going to lay in bed terrified all night long again, so she convinced her friends to stay out all night with her, sleep under the stars in the park. They agreed when she told them the lie about Zax, how they broke up. It instantly turned him into an asshole in their eyes, and she felt bad for that, but what could she do?

  So she put on her jeans, her combat boots, and The Clash shirt and headed out to the park. Anabelle took some liquor from her parents liquor cabinet, Southern Comfort that Kenzie didn’t care for, but it went down smooth enough. Her other friend, Roxie, whom she met on the punk scene, brought the weed. It was during the Zax bashing that Kenzie finally cried. Her friends thought it was just heartbreak over the breakup. Kenzie couldn’t tell them the truth.

  Thankfully it didn’t last long and she started to laugh again. It wasn’t that she forgot what happened, it was always in the back of her mind, it was the booze and weed taking effect. Until Dax showed up with his little brother and three others.

  It sobered her up pretty quick, not knowing if Dax knew or not. They all started talking, smoking, and drinking, and she could feel Dax looking at her. She’d say something and his look would last just slightly too long. Someone else would be telling a story and she’d feel his eyes on her.

  “How come you’re all wearing red and you’re wearing blue?” Roxie asked.

  “I’m not in the gang yet,” Snow said.

  It made Roxie spit out the Southern Comfort. “You’re in a gang?” she couldn’t believe it.

  That’s when Dax and Kenzie locked eyes. Without saying anything, they both agreed to not bring it up.

  “Used to be,” the one called Cleon said. Then he went on, talking about how they were a tougher gang then the new guys. Talked about the way the one with bushy hair took out the other gang’s big man that was supposed to be tough. Kenzie listened to the story, knew he was talking about Rex and Max.

 

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