Tinker's Dilemma: Devil's Henchmen MC Next Generation, Book One

by Samantha McCoy

  Like her father, Keily missed her mother dearly, especially at moments like this when she needed her the most – someone she could trust. Someone who would give her sound advice. She had to figure out what she was going to do next. As much as she wished she could save her father, right now, it didn’t even look as if she could save herself.

  The idea of leaving entered her mind, but she squashed the thought immediately. This was her home. She’d spent her childhood in Briar Prairie. In that very house as a matter of fact. Thousands of hours sitting at the table doing her schoolwork. Days spent in the gardens out back, picking weeds and harvesting vegetables with her mother. Years, playing in the yard with her imaginary friends, since she’d never gone to public school to make any real ones. For as much as this house had felt like a prison growing up after she’d lost her mother – Keily had nowhere else to go. She wasn’t delusional enough to think that she could just up and run off to a new place. Some expenses came with that. Rent, utilities, move-in costs – none of which, she could afford.

  This was it.

  She had to figure out a way to get Patrick off her back and out of her life – once and for all. The thought of hiring someone to take him out in prison crossed her mind.

  I could pay someone to knock him off for a pack of smokes, a Kit-Kat, and some ramen noodles, she thought to herself. If it wasn’t so sadly accurate, Keily might have laughed.

  She didn’t know much about the prison system, but she did know that people would do some crazy crap for a few extra essentials.

  With a heavy sigh, she walked over to the couch and sat down, tucking her feet underneath her. Staring out the window, she watched Emily bat around a rattle toy, and she smiled. For all the things going wrong in her life, her daughter would be the one thing that was completely right. And while she hated Patrick for everything he had done to her, Keily was thankful for Emily.

  The phone rang again, and like always, Keily jumped.

  “Shit!” she said through clenched teeth. Her heart pounded.

  She glanced at the caller ID and it was him, again.

  She tried to level her breathing. In through her nose, out through her mouth. She counted to ten and then started the process all over again until her chest no longer felt tight.

  Patrick Dean would be the death of her. Keily knew it. He would kill her without even touching her. She had been a fool to think she could get away from him completely. As it currently stood, it felt like Keily would never escape him.

  Just get your phone number changed and all of this would end, she told herself.

  But she knew she didn’t have the money for the expense. It wasn’t that she was broke, she had plenty of money in savings. But Keily knew what money she did have, had to last her a while. Emily’s needs came first. It was bad enough that when she was deciding to move back home, her bank account had taken a huge hit trying to pay off all the collection notices her father had accumulated. What was left in her account would have to last her a few more weeks. When Emily was a bit older, Keily planned to find another job and go back to work, but she had to find a trustworthy person to babysit first and that was hard to do when she never really left the house.

  The paranoia and anxiety felt like a living, breathing thing for Keily. Even though she knew Patrick was in prison and couldn’t physically harm her, she still felt like she was always being watched. Like he was lurking in the woods, just outside her door. Or sitting in a car watching her walk from shop to shop in town. The feeling was unnerving, which meant that on her trips into town, Keily returned home feeling unsettled and on edge.

  Standing, because her mind was creating an entirely new type of anxiety, Keily paced around the room and then walked over to the window. Looking out, she scanned the area. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to see into the wooded area surrounding her father’s house. Movement caught her attention in her peripheral, but as she squinted, trying to get a better view, she saw nothing.

  “It’s just the wind blowing through the trees, Keily,” she told herself out loud. “Calm down. He can’t get to you.”

  Yeah, calm down, she repeatedly chanted, willing herself to believe it.

  But no matter how many times she said it, it didn’t ring true. She scanned the area again, but her eyes kept going back to that same spot. As if she was waiting for Patrick Dean to step out of the trees and return her to a life of hell.

  Chapter Eight

  Tinker

  He stood next to Joker, completely still. About fifty yards ahead, Keily stood at her living room window, staring directly at him. For a second, Tinker thought that maybe she had seen them, but she never made a move to come outside and there was only confusion and fear on her face.

  “Whatever is going on with this girl,” Joker whispered, barely above a breath. “She’s terrified. You can legit see it all over her face.”

  “I know,” Tinker replied, hating the fact.

  “Do you think this Dean guy sent people to watch her?”

  “Yep.” He had no doubts about it. “And I think they are here now.”

  “Where?”

  Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Joker stiffen. “I’m not sure yet. But, if I were Dean and psychotic, I’d have someone on her 24/7.”

  “Right.” Joker nodded. “But what if it’s not Dean that’s after her?”

  “What?” That got Tinker’s attention.

  Joker shrugged. “You said it yourself, something felt wrong about the case wrap-up.”

  “Yeah?” He wasn’t understanding where his cousin’s mind was going.

  “What if the club is being used.” Joker shrugged, again. “What if we’re the ones who are tracking her. Doing the dirty work.”

  The earpiece in Tinker’s ear crackled. “Northside of the house,” Sparo spoke. “Two unknown individuals. Roughly thirty yards in.”

  “Okay.” Joker nodded. “Maybe not.”

  Tinker’s head turned toward where Sparo had indicated. His eyes narrowed trying to focus on the two people. Faintly, Tinker saw movement, but nothing clearly. He could make out who the others were. He lifted his hand and pointed.

  “Got them,” Joker relayed. “Move.”

  Together, the three of them crept through the trees. Sparo from the West; Joker and Tinker from the East. Silent. Stealthy. Years of training from their fathers kicked in as Tinker, Sparo, and Joker moved as one. They didn’t need to communicate. Each knew the other was there, doing what they were supposed to be doing. They moved like a well-trained unit – because they were. They might not have had all the military training their fathers had – but they were taught well. By the best.

  That’s what the Devil’s Henchmen MC was about. The club was founded by ex-military members, or retired members, because once military – always military.

  The lifestyle was in their blood. Tinker’s dad, Reaper, was a retired Navy Seal; Joker’s dad, Diesel, was a retired Army Ranger; and Sparo’s dad, Sledge, the club’s president, was a retired Seal commander. The DHMC wasn’t your normal club. They didn’t run illegal guns or drugs. They didn’t do anything illegal, at all.

  Well, sort of.

  The Devil’s Henchmen MC took on cases for the US government – secretly. Cases that technically, the government wasn’t even allowed to get involved in without serious repercussions. If there was a kidnapped politician in hostile territory and the government couldn’t send in their forces to get him or her out – the DHMC went in. Fighting the cartels at their southern border and throughout the country, human traffickers across the globe, and even terrorist cells, the Devil’s Henchmen took care of it all. No matter the cost. It was who they were and what they did.

  As they got into position, some thirty yards behind the other two men, the guys crouched behind a fallen tree trunk and watched.

  “I can go left,” Sparo said quietly. “Joker goes to the right. And you can come in from behind,” he said to Tinker. “We can surround them and take them out.”

  “Or I ca
n just pop them both from her.” Joker shrugged.

  “No,” Tinker replied. “The last thing Keily needs is gunfire outside of her window.”

  “True.” Joker sighed.

  “Plus, we need information,” Tinker added. “If what you think is true, then we need to know who these guys are really working for.”

  “What?” Sparo asked, looking confused.

  Tinker watched the other two men as Joker filled in Sparo about his newest belief. He didn’t pay any attention to his cousin as his sole focus remained on the two men who were pulling guns from beneath their jackets.

  “Guys,” Tinker whispered. “Look.”

  Joker and Sparo both turned to where he was pointing, and simultaneously said, “Shit.”

  “Move,” Tinker ordered.

  They all branched off, going with Sparo’s original plan. As the feet between them all began to diminish, Tinker’s chest started to loosen. Soon, they would get some answers. They would know the truth. Right after they forced both men to sing like birds…

  As they each made it to a take-down point and readied themselves. Tinker gave the signal. However, the group froze as a light came on, on the front porch. They could all hear the raised voices coming from inside the house. An older man with a graying beard and dirty brown hair stepped outside, followed closely by Keily.

  “Dad!” she shouted. “You’re drunk. You cannot go into town. Get back in the house.”

  “Shut up, girl!” the old man yelled back. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  They all watched as the old man stumbled toward his ratty truck and climbed behind the wheel. Tinker could only stare from his spot behind a stack of old tires. The sight in front of him was honestly the last thing he expected to see.

  Keily’s father was old-man Sharp, the town drunk. Tinker hadn’t even known the man had a daughter. Or a house for that matter. So many times, over the years, he’d seen the old man sleeping off his latest bender on a park bench or in a jail cell. It had never occurred to him that the man had a family.

  “What the…” Sparo whispered; the sound of his voice played through Tinker’s earpiece.

  “Her dad is Sharp?” Joker whispered.

  Tinker looked in Joker’s direction and shrugged. “Apparently. Y’all didn’t notice him come in after I left?” How could they not have?

  “No,” Sparo said in his ear. “The truck was already here when we got into position.”

  Tinker continued to watch the drama unfold. Keily rushed down the stairs toward her father. She wrestled with him over the door and as Keily lost her grip and fell to the ground, Sharp slammed the door closed and started the truck. Before she could get up, he jammed it into reverse and stomped on the gas. The truck sped backward in the direction where Joker had been hiding. Tinker watched in horror as his cousin scrambled farther into the woods just as the truck crash into a tree. Tinker couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the chaos. He stared, mouth hanging open as Sharp then put the truck into drive and spewed gravel as he drove away.

  For a long while, nobody said anything. The silence was almost eerie. He’d never seen anything like that before, and from the feel of his racing heart – he hoped he never did again. Slowly, he turned to look in the direction of Sparo, but something else caught his eye… Or, the lack of something else. He was just about to say something when the crackling in his ear indicated someone else was about to speak.

  “Shit!” Sparo cursed. “Where did they go?”

  Tinker was already on his feet scanning the area, but the two men that had been hiding in the bushes only a few feet from them were now nowhere to be found.

  Their heads swiveled this way and that, but nothing. They were gone.

  “Fuck.”

  Tinker looked back to see Keily limp up the stairs and walk into the house. He wanted to go check on her, but he couldn’t. He knew the fall probably hurt and was thankful Sharp hadn’t run her over in his need to hit up the nearest bar.

  Tinker made a mental note to talk with the old man. If he was so far gone that he would treat his daughter like he just did, then the guy needed help, before he killed himself or someone else. Not to mention, Ticker wanted to pop the old coot right in the nose. And he was fairly sure, Joker did, too.

  “I’m going to head back to the shop,” Tinker said as the guys grouped together in the woods. “Let me know if anything else happens.”

  “You mean if anyone else tries to run me the fuck over?” Joker grumbled.

  “What’s the deal with this girl?” Sparo asked. “The truth.”

  Tinker wasn’t ready to tell them everything. He wasn’t ready to explain that there was something about her that seemed to draw him in. So instead, he decided to stick with the case. “This case has stuck with me since I got home, man. Something doesn’t sit well with me, and it never has. My gut tells me there’s something more going on. I just don’t know what or if this girl is the key to figuring it out.”

  Joker and Sparo looked at each other, then at him before they both nodded their heads. “Alright,” Sparo replied. “I get that.”

  Tinker popped the earpiece out of his ear and headed back around the house and through the woods to his truck. Occasionally, he would stop to scan the area, but whoever was in the bushes outside of Keily’s house, was gone now. No trace of them. And that left a sinking pit in Tinker’s stomach. Because if they could vanish that easy, regardless of the commotion, then those guys weren’t just a set of lackeys – they were more professional than that, which upped the ante a bit and changed a few things.

  Climbing into his truck, he drove a little farther down the dirt road before turning around and heading into town. The only tire tracks that he’d seen were his own, and another set that looked to belong to Sparo’s Camaro, which was parked further down the dirt road. Other than that, there was no sign of how the other men had gotten to Keily’s house.

  Replacing the earpiece, Tinker tapped it and told his team what he’d learned.

  “Joker and I will check the area when we leave,” Sparo answered. “We didn’t see anything on our way in, but that doesn’t mean anything. Out here in the sticks, there are so many trails, there’s really no telling.”

  “Whoever these guys are,” Joker added. “They’re good.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tinker admitted. “If Dean sent these men after Keily and her baby, they are trained enough to pull it off. Stay alert.”

  “Will do,” Joker replied.

  “Always,” said Sparo.

  Tinker pulled the earpiece back out and tossed it into his cup holder. As he drove through town, he glanced over at the bar and saw Sharp’s truck sitting in the lot.

  At least he made it, he thought to himself.

  Pulling into the lot, he quickly parked his truck before hopping out and heading inside. The place was smokey and loud, but only a few people remained. But Tinker wasn’t there for a drink or the company. He headed straight to the bar and waved a hand to the bartender.

  “What can I get, hun?” she asked.

  “That man over there.” Tinker nodded toward Sharp. “Cut him off.”

  “What?”

  “He’s wasted,” Tinker said. “Over the limit by miles. Cut him off.”

  The young girl looked at Sharp and then back to Tinker. He raised a brow. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

  “Listen, that man almost ran over his daughter – just to get a fucking drink,” Tinker said through gritted teeth, clearly pissed. “If he hurts himself or anyone else, I will personally hold this establishment liable, and shut the door permanently. Got it?” He slammed a hand on the counter causing the girl to jump.

  And he didn’t give two-fucks that he scared her. Good! Let her be scared, he thought as he stared her down. “Cut him off. Understood?”

  The woman nodded her head, eyes wide as she stared back at him.

  Tinker shook his head and turned away from the bar. He spotted the owner of the rat hole standing ne
ar the back and he lifted his chin once in the man’s direction as he walked out the door.

  What in the hell happened to TABC certified people? he wondered.

  Tinker hoped it would be enough. But a part of him seriously doubted it. The idea that some people didn’t give a shit about others as long as they were making them money, sickened him. All for a few extra bucks.

  Climbing back into his truck, he headed back to the shop. He needed to get started on Keily’s car and get it back to her. He didn’t like her being out there alone. Also, he made a mental note to ask around about any new folks in town. One of the good things about living in a small town – new people stood out like a sore thumb – and everyone noticed.

  Twenty minutes later, after a slow drive through town, Tinker pulled into the shop’s lot and shut off his truck. Grabbing his phone from the cup holder, he sent out a mass message to a few people in town, like Sheryl from the gas station, Betty from the local diner, and Henry from the home supply store who were all trusted contacts for the club. He asked them to keep their eyes open for anyone new in town and to let him know if they saw anyone suspicious.

  Once the message went out and he received confirmation back from everyone, Tinker climbed out of the truck and headed into the shop. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on one of the counters, then walked over to Keily’s car. There was a lot of work that needed to be done on it. The CV joints needed to be fixed, it needed an oil change and complete tune-up; plus, Tinker wanted to put new tires on it. The current ones were running a bit low on tread. So, pressing the button on the lift, he raised the car so he could start on changing the oil and tires.

  It was going to be a long night…