by Mandie Tepe
The final guests—Axel and Coco—were right on the Kennedys’ heels. Jimi knew Coco fairly well because she was one of the Vagabonds’ regular female hangers-on. Jimi didn’t like some of the young women chasing after the Vagabonds, but she had always gotten along fine with Coco who was easier to take than some of the others . . . despite the fact that she wasted a lot of energy trying to tame Axel who was not interested in settling down.
The screening began as soon as everyone had filled their plates and been served drinks.
Before they had gotten two-thirds of the way into the first movie, Chance revealed the true workings of his special forces-trained mind.
“All it’d take would be some strategically placed Claymores or accurately tossed M67 grenades to take this sucker out,” Chance declared in disgust. “My squad could have nipped this in the bud in no time. They should have just called in the military.”
“What? And torch poor little Haddonfield, Illinois to the ground?” Isla pointed out. “Or have some innocent trick-or-treater accidentally blow himself and all his little friends to smithereens?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Chance responded reasonably. He snapped his fingers as inspiration struck. “I know . . . M84 flashbangs! That would daze this scumbag long enough to capture him and bury him deep in a black site somewhere with the other terrorists. Because make no mistake, Michael Myers is a terrorist. He just doesn’t happen to have a political or religious affiliation.”
“Holy frig . . .” Jimi breathed, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open as she stared at him in disbelief.
River shook his head and said to her in sympathy, “I know. See what I’ve been dealing with since he went through BUD/S? He’s ruined more movie nights than I can count with this crap.”
“What’s a black site?” she whispered.
River leaned in. “He’d tell you, but he’d have to kill you.”
Aaron burst out laughing. “These movies have never scared me all that much, but now I’m absolutely terrified.”
Isla laughed along with him. “Need another beer?” she asked.
“Sure, honey,” Aaron answered, “but I can get it.”
“No, I got it,” she insisted as she rose from where she was wedged into Jimi’s recliner with him. “Anyone else need anything?”
A chorus of nos greeted her and she turned to move toward the kitchen. Axel hadn’t answered but surged to his feet and followed her. He stood and stared down at what was left of the decimated skillet dip and the few chunks of the bread.
Isla turned from the ‘fridge with the beer and a fresh soda. “We’re out of the chips,” she informed Axel in a belligerent tone. It was the same tone they always used toward one another.
When Jimi had noticed the two of them heading to the kitchen she jumped up and joined them so she could stop any bickering they might launch into.
Axel was glaring at Isla. “Why would I care if you’re out of chips?” he snarked.
Isla turned on her heel and walked away.
“Please don’t start up with her,” Jimi implored softly. “This is supposed to be a fun day.”
“What makes you think I’m not having fun?” Axel hedged as he poked through the sandwich platter looking for roast beef. He pointed toward the skillet. “But what’s this crap supposed to be?”
“It’s good. Have you even tried it?” After his derisive snort, Jimi kept on. “Aaron happens to be a great chef. We ate at his restaurant the other ni—”
“Whatever. He seems like a real great guy,” Axel commented sarcastically before biting into the sandwich and turning his back to her. He plopped back onto the sofa with Coco and pulled her close.
For the rest of the day, both Axel and Isla focused on their dates and didn’t interact. Except for the times they shot each other disapproving looks.
River napped through parts of the movies and he and Miranda were the first to leave. They weren’t able to stay long enough for pizza because he had to meet up with the band at the bar they were playing that night to set up their equipment and do a sound check. The Kennedys stayed after dinner, but needed to pick up the kids before their bedtime. Axel and Coco left late that evening before the marathon was over, but Isla and Aaron stayed until after midnight when the final movie ended. Jimi had fallen asleep on the lounge section of the sofa by that time.
After everyone was gone, Chance put away whatever perishables were left, quietly stacked the dishes in the sink, tossed a fleece throw with a Navy emblem on it over his girl, and went to bed feeling that their first couples party had been a success. Except for maybe the pointed barbs between Axel and Isla. What was that about? He’d have to find out about that from Jimi.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Shad Tyler stood at the corner of the Crosswinds building and peeked around the corner. Many of the residents were gathered at the front of the building on folding lawn chairs or perched on the steps up to the door chattering away in excitement. The old people were bundled up like the weather called for a blizzard instead of breezy temperatures in the high sixties. This was that one chick’s doing—Jimi Alexander. She had only lived there for a short time, but she was always influencing things. Like Halloween.
In the years the Tyler family had lived there not one trick-or-treater had ever stopped at the Crosswinds on their rounds. They would hit up the single-family homes on the street, but steered clear of the apartment building. Apparently, Jimi had heard this and she decided she would sit out on the doorstep with a huge bowl full of candy so the kids would see her and come by for treats. When some of the other residents found out about her plan, they went out to buy treats and join in too. Some of them even carved jack-o-lanterns and lined them up on the sidewalk with candles flickering inside.
Shad stood a moment longer and sneered at the scene. That old lady from upstairs was wearing a witch’s hat . . . as if she didn’t look enough like a witch without it. The old guy from up there had a pirate’s patch over his eye and a really bad Captain Jack Sparrow wig on his head. Jimi was wearing fairy wings with glow-in-the-dark veins and edging. That Navy SEAL dude wasn’t in costume. He was too cool for that. Shad would have thought Chance would be too badass to even be there handing out treats, but there he was. He guessed even badasses would do lame things to bag some chick
I even went to church—more than once—for that Bethany chick, Shad thought with a wry twist to his lips. His gaze swept over the woman in the fairy wings and anger surged through him at the memory of her telling Bethany to beware of him.
An unnatural sounding birdcall caught his attention at the same moment his cell phone buzzed. He looked at his phone’s display. It was from Jonny and all it said was, “Here.” That’s all it took to douse his anger for Jimi as a completely unrelated cold uneasiness swept over him.
There was a time when getting word that it was time to meet up with Jonny and the others brought excitement. They always had some sort of exhilarating plan cooked up . . . whether it was sneaking out and cutting school, coming up with a plot to get beer or weed, hitting some place with vandalism or graffiti, or just doing a break in and feeling the rush over not getting caught. But now he heard that signal birdcall and he felt his blood run cold.
Things had gotten out of control and Shad was beginning to regret ever getting involved with Jonny and the others. The thrills had gone from just thrills to some serious crap. And it had all gotten too close to home. Literally. He sighed, dropped his cigarette butt and ground it out with a twist of his Converse-shod foot, turning to make his way to the dumpster across the parking lot.
As he ducked behind the dumpster shed, he said in a hushed but sharp tone, “Yo. I told you we shouldn’t meet up here. Not until things settle down.”
Jonny looked him over with contempt. Shad realized that’s the way Jonny had always looked at him. “Don’t be a wuss,” Jonny spat.
“I don’t think you understand how hot things are ar
ound here after the mailbox thing so soon after we hit that biker’s place.”
“That’s old news,” Jonny scoffed. “We got something to talk to you about.”
Looking closer, Shad could see a familiar unholy light of excitement in his friend’s pale blue eyes and he wanted to get out of there. Something was up and he didn’t want to know what it was. He looked down at the small shifty kid next to Jonny.
Fitz was head and shoulders shorter than both Jonny and Shad, but he acted as if he was ten feet tall and bulletproof. If Jonny had a henchman, it was Fitz. Shad always thought it was kind of pathetic how Fitz practically groveled and did anything and everything to please Jonny—the crew’s unofficial but uncontested leader. Fitz’s demeanor reminded Shad of Peter Pettigrew from the Harry Potter movies. Of course, who was Shad to judge? He’d done some things he didn’t want to do just to stay in Jonny’s good graces. Jonny was just that scary. As he studied Jonny, he realized he was about to be called on again to do just that.
Shad looked over his shoulder toward a window into his apartment. He could see the light of the television flickering against the closed blinds. His mother probably wasn’t even watching it because she’d be passed out on the sofa by now. His father was out . . . Shad imagined with whatever woman he was currently using to escape Mom. He sighed.
“Can’t we at least go somewhere else to talk?” Shad suggested.
“In a little while. We’ll hang out here until the rug rats all go home and then we’ll find something interesting to do,” Jonny declared.
Neither Shad, Fitz, nor any of the other kids—two other boys and a couple of girls—thought to disagree. Jonny called the shots. Always.
He continued, “I’m coming up with a plan. This is a big one. The biggest one yet.”
Shad could feel the excitement coming off the others, but he just felt worried. “Yeah?” he drawled as if he were unconcerned. “What plan is that?” He lit another cigarette and hoped no one noticed his hand shaking as he took a deep drag.
“We were hanging out on the other side of the building and heard that guy say he was leaving town for a couple days.”
Shad’s stomach pitched. “Which guy?”
“That big dude. The Navy SEAL,” Fitz filled in excitedly.
“Yeah—so?”
Jonny stepped even closer, although he was already pretty much right in Shad’s face. “You need to get us into his place while he’s gone.” Shad didn’t comment, so Jonny went on. “Remember? You told us he has a gun safe in his closet. An ex-SEAL? Can you imagine how many cool weapons he prob’ly has in there?”
“That safe is huge, dude,” Shad reminded him nervously. “We’d never be able to carry it out like the biker’s little portable one.”
“We’ll figure out a way to get it open,” Jonny answered.
“I don’t think it’s that eas—”
“Look, Shad,” Jonny whispered harshly, “all you have to do is get us in there. Leave it to us to get it open. We’ll fence whatever we can carry out . . . guns . . . knives . . . who knows what else is in there? Maybe he even keeps cash in the safe. Once we fence all that stuff, we’ll have enough to get us to Colorado Springs. Haven’t we always said we want out of this podunk town? My uncle will put us to work in his chop shop business out there until we make enough to get the rest of the way out west to California. This could be our ticket out of here.”
Shad snorted. “Man, we couldn’t even steal the Charger out of this lot awhile back. You think your uncle’s gonna hire us to steal cars for him?”
“That was our first try and we’d’ve had that car if Aquaman hadn’t shown up at home early. It was just bad timing is all.”
“Yeah,” Fitz added like the little minion he was.
Jonny acted as if he hadn’t heard his lackey. “Speaking of timing, we’re never gonna have a better time to get into Aquaman’s place and try. So, you need to get us his key and give us the heads up as soon as he leaves town.”
“I can’t,” Shad protested. “Things are too—”
“You can. You have to. We have to do it soon, because you said yourself that they’re gonna be installing security cameras in a couple of weeks. You think things are hot now, they’ll get a lot hotter then.”
A hushed chorus of yeahs from all of the others told Shad he was on his own on this. “I—” he began.
“You owe me,” Jonny hissed. “Me having my grandma give you an alibi is the only reason you’re not sitting in juvie right now. She stuck her neck out for you, man.”
Shad gulped and hoped it was dark enough that no one noticed. They’d all pounce at any sign of weakness.
“It was stupid of you to go in and trash that chick’s place right after we took off from trying to jack those mailboxes.”
Fitz shifted uneasily on his feet and shot Shad a look. Jonny didn’t know Fitz had gone into Jimi’s apartment with him. Shad had gone in mad, but had only planned to mess up the kitchen and smear grease into her furniture. Fitz was the one that had taken a knife to Jimi’s weaving, smashed her pottery and killed her fish. Shad might have been furious with her, but he would never have done any of that. Her fish were really beautiful. He thought her art was super cool . . . so cool that he’d been inside her place and studied it several times.
Shad never mentioned that Fitz was involved. He also didn’t comment that Jonny’s grandmother was probably more than happy to mess with the cops’ heads and throw a wrench into their investigation. She hated the CPD. She thought it was their fault that her son—Jonny’s father—was sitting on Missouri’s death row right at that moment. Her son had been there since Jonny was a baby. The nasty old woman wanted to blame the cops instead of what really got him the death penalty—his slaughtering two teenaged girls working the late shift at a frozen yogurt shop during a robbery.
Shad should have started distancing himself from the crew after they had destroyed Axel’s place. Maybe before. But what they’d done to Axel really bothered him. He thought Axel was as cool as they came. Shad practically stalked him and the Vagabonds MC. Sure, they partied hard, but they partied as a group. Not like his mother who sat in her sad, dark apartment and partied alone. Now the crew wanted his help to do the same to another cool guy—Chance.
As he looked at the others’ faces through the shadows cast by the LED parking lot lighting, he knew he was screwed. “Fine. But you can’t go in and trash the place. I’m telling you that everyone is on high alert after the other incidents. If anyone hears anything, they’re not gonna hesitate to call the cops. Just go in and focus on the safe.”
“What? Do you think we’re stupid?” Jonny spat.
“Yeah! You think we’re stupid?” Fitz chimed in.
That was exactly what Shad was thinking. He felt a pit growing in his gut. “I’ll get the pass key tomorrow,” he finally agreed glumly. He had a bad, bad feeling that this was going to go really, really wrong.
He had made his own copies of the passkeys and kept them stashed so he wouldn’t have to risk taking his dad’s. He hadn’t let Jonny know that because he was afraid Jonny would want to keep them. The only thing that insured Shad would get them back was the fear of Ben discovering that his were gone.
Shad had them made originally because he had a habit of letting himself in and out of everyone’s apartments and snooping. It was like his dirty little voyeur secret that he liked to keep an eye on everyone. He never considered it hurt anyone. He also never considered how he’d feel if someone did it to him . . . broke in and snooped into his life and his family’s secrets. And his family had a lot of unpleasant secrets.
He hadn’t even considered any of that the time he’d gone into Mrs. Wilson’s just to look around—as usual—and had escalated by taking the jewelry she’d left on her dresser. He didn’t understand why he’d done it. He had no use for the jewelry. When he showed it to him, Jonny offered to hock it and use the proceeds to buy beer for the crew. Later, Shad found out that Jonny had pawned the ring, but kep
t the necklace and gave it to Pilar . . . one of the two girls standing in the group that night. Jonny’d had a thing for Pilar for a long time. She was hot. She also knew how to string Jonny along. Another example of a guy doing stupid crap to bag a chick that only played him.
Shad began to consider how he might feel about people sneaking around and messing with his things was when he saw the damage to Axel’s place. But it really struck home when he stood in the doorway to Jimi’s weaving room and saw what Fitz had done to her really awesome art. It was the first time he could remember feeling like crying.
After Shad’s little B&E at Mrs. Wilson’s, the game was on and the crime spree at Crosswinds began. Now, it was about to hit another level with an attempted crime that would most likely warrant a call from the CPD for assistance from the FBI and the ATF if they came away with any high-powered weapons like Jonny was hoping. Shad was just recently realizing that it was his butt swinging in the breeze if everything came crumbling down. He was the one that lived there, had access to the keys, and was in the know about the residents’ comings and goings. He almost wished he were sitting in juvie right now instead of being dragged into this new plot.
He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and faked getting an emergency text from his mom . . . the mom that was surely passed out on their broken down sofa at that moment. He made his lame excuses and took off for the building, leaving the rest of the crew to their late school night activities of smashing pumpkins and other assorted acts of vandalism.
As he walked past the group of residents laughing, visiting and gushing over little trick-or-treaters’ costumes, he kept his head down so his shaggy black hair covered his averted eyes. He was afraid they’d see all the newfound guilt in them. It was like he’d sold his soul to the devil and he didn’t know what to do to get it back.
CHAPTER 15
Chance came awake with a start, his hands already groping for his MK 16. When he came fully aware that there was no danger he noted the softness of the microfiber sheets surrounding him. He smelled the fragrance of sugary popcorn lingering in the air from the popcorn balls Jimi had made in his kitchen earlier that day. He tasted the residual cinnamon flavor of his toothpaste from when he’d brushed his teeth before bed. Turning his head he focused on the sight of the blue LED numbers on his bedside clock—4:37 am. And, finally he zoned in on the sound of ACDC’s Thunderstruck. It was his cell’s ringtone that had awakened him. He grabbed the phone and checked the display, his nerves jumping when he saw it was Jimi calling.