by Zoey Parker
Cain raised his eyebrows with an amused expression.
“To take care of you like he said, I mean,” she finished awkwardly.
“Nah, I'm between girlfriends at the moment,” Cain answered. The truth was, he rarely dated anyone seriously. He didn't like to be tied down, and preferred the freedom of being able to hop on his bike and ride anywhere, anytime, without having to deal with a bunch of fights, lies, and excuses. “I'll be fine, though.”
“But the doctor just said you'd need someone to take care of you,” Missy said. “He's barely out of the room, and you're already going to start ignoring what he said? Good luck getting better, pal.”
“Oh, what the hell is your problem now, huh?” Cain sneered. “Jesus, are you trying to volunteer as a nursemaid? Is that it?”
“Fuck no!” Missy spat back. “I've got more important shit to do than help you get dressed and shove your pills down your throat.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Cain asked. “Pour shots of cheap vodka? Count out pills and nugs of weed?”
A deep, drawling voice rumbled from the doorway behind them. “All this profanity and loose talk about narcotics, and in a hospital, no less! You kids are so uncivilized these days, I do declare.”
The hulking frame of Sheriff Jon Hemmick stood at the door to the room. He had his thumbs hooked into the leather belt that his huge revolver hung from, and his brown uniform barely seemed to contain his protruding belly and slab-like arms. He rocked back and forth slightly, favoring the pair with a wide, gap-toothed grin.
“What brings you down here so late, Ham-Hock?” Cain smirked. It was a nickname the burly cop hated, which is why the Eagles used it so frequently, even to his face. “Looking for pretty girls to finger down in the coma ward?”
Hemmick's expression darkened, his bushy eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “When my boys responded to a report of a beating and gunshots out at the Teepee, I figured I'd hang around the hospital and see who showed up. Didn't expect to see one of you Eagles down here, though, or to hear you feeding some line of bullshit to the docs so they wouldn't call me. That hurts, Cain—knowing you'd try to keep things from me, after everything I've done for your club.”
“After everything we've paid you to do for us, you mean,” Cain said. “We didn't feel like taking the time to talk to you about this one, is all. We can handle it ourselves.”
“And just what exactly will you be handling?” Hemmick asked. “Because whatever it is, if it's going to involve more bullets and beatings in my jurisdiction, you can be damn sure I want to hear about it whether you feel like talking to me or not.”
Shit, Cain thought. The dirty pig is going to find a way to shake us down on this after all. Missy may as well have stayed at the Knife.
“We're not sure yet,” Cain answered carefully. “Some guys jumped me while I was running an errand with Keith. They were probably just some strung-out junkies who wanted to rob me to get money for their next fix. Keith scared them off with his gun. Probably not even worth worrying about. Certainly nothing you'd want to be bothered with.”
Hemmick laughed. “Kid, you must think I'm dumber than a sack of wrenches,” he said.
“Nah, I've known some pretty smart wrenches,” Cain shot back.
“My boys found a whole mess of baggies behind the motel, stuffed with meth and mushrooms,” Hemmick said. “There was blood on the ground next to them, and a trail to the front of the place, like someone had been shot while fleeing the scene and then dragged off. I'm willing to bet this happened after your beating and the person who dragged this mystery guy away was one of your guys, so eager to get back to you and make sure you were okay that he didn't even bother to pick up about a thousand bucks' worth of perfectly good drugs. Am I warm so far?”
Cain glared at Hemmick silently.
“I thought so,” the cop continued. “And I'm also willing to bet that whoever this missing person is, he's currently in the back room of the Lost Knife, screaming blue murder and wishing his dear old dad had worn a rubber.”
“You planning to go there and find out?” Cain asked. “Save him from being tortured by the big bad bikers, make sure he gets medical attention and a fair trial, all that?”
“Well, I suppose I could,” Hemmick agreed. “On the other hand, my wife's been asking me for one of those new TV sets. You know, the ultra-smart, 3D, HD plasma ones, wall-mounted, with the 98-inch screen? So I reckon if I were busy shopping for one of those instead, I'd have no particular reason to pay a visit to the Knife in this matter. In fact, I might get so distracted by my new purchase that I'd even forget we had this conversation.”
“You're a subtle guy, Ham-Hock,” Cain said, rolling his eyes.
“Coming from a dude who walks around wearing a patch with a blood-dripping eagle on it,” Hemmick answered, “I'll go ahead and take that as a compliment. When you see Hunter, tell him I'll be in touch about the price of the TV. He should probably expect it to be in the high four figures.” He turned to leave, pausing to tip his sheriff's hat at Missy. “Ma'am.”
As the sheriff left, a nurse walked in past him. “Mr. Vale? I'm here to take you to Radiology. Your girlfriend can wait for you in the waiting room.”
“Swell,” Cain said, standing up with a groan. He turned to Missy with a sardonic smile. “I'll see you when I'm done, honey.”
Missy's smile in return was just short of a grimace. “Okay, sweetie,” she replied through gritted teeth.
Missy walked toward the waiting room and the nurse led Cain to the radiology lab. “It's so wonderful that you've got a girlfriend who cares about you enough to wait for you,” the nurse said cheerily.
“Yeah, she's a real peach,” Cain answered, shaking his head.
Chapter 8
Keith
Keith poured his fourth shot of whiskey, drank it down, and immediately poured another. He still had the coppery taste of adrenaline at the back of his tongue. He’d tasted it enough times in his life to know that no amount of liquor could really wash it away. Usually, it had been accompanied by the taste of triumph that came with knowing he'd escaped death.
Tonight, though, it was paired with flavors that were far darker and more bitter in his throat.
Self-hatred. And shame.
Keith had been an Eagle for a long time, and an outlaw even longer. He had a lot of pride. He'd always had plenty of reason to be proud of how well he could ride, fight, shoot, and even drink. He was proud that he'd been able to carry himself as a biker and a badass without sacrificing the golden rule of “Don't fuck with anyone, and you won't get fucked with.”
But the two things he'd always been proudest of were his sharp instinct for sensing impending danger and his commitment to watching the backs of his fellow Eagles.
Tonight, both of those had failed him miserably.
He drained the shot glass again, but before he could reach for the bottle to refill it, Hunter's hand clamped down on his wrist.
“Have you had enough to tell me how you let this happen?” Hunter asked quietly.
“I am so fuckin' sorry, Hunter,” Keith said.
“Don't tell me how goddamn sorry you are,” Hunter replied. His voice remained low, but the tone was like a hammer hitting white-hot iron. “I didn't ask you how sorry you are. I asked how you could let Cain out of your sight while you were supposed to be protecting him. Or did you fuckin' forget why Eagles always get sent out for these things in groups of two or more? Did that somehow slip your mind?”
“We'd already shaken the dude down,” Keith said, hating the sound of his own voice as he tried to explain. “He handed over the money without any problems, an' everything seemed fine. I figured we were in the clear, so Cain went out to the bikes an' I hung back to take a quick piss in the dude's bathroom...”
“You hung back to take a piss,” Hunter repeated in disbelief. “Even though about a zillion different fucked-up things could’ve happened from the moment you two separated. Even though the dealer could’ve trapped
you in the bathroom, shot Cain in the back of the head, then taken his money back and run off. Your fucking bladder was full, so you didn't even care.”
“Look, I know how stupid it sounds, man,” Keith answered. “I fucked up bad. I got no excuse. You want my patch, you can have it. You wanna get the other guys together an' beat the shit outta me, I got it comin'.”
“I almost lost an Eagle tonight,” Hunter said. “I'm not in a hurry to lose another, no matter how dumb he acted. No, there's two things I want from you.”
“Name 'em,” said Keith. “Whatever they are, you got it.”
“First, I want your word that you'll never take your fuckin' eyes off a brother again when you're supposed to be lookin' out for him,” Hunter insisted. “I don't give a flying fuck if you're so full of piss that it's sprayin' outta your ears an' you gotta take a crap the size of a birthday cake besides. You go in your pants if you have to, but you do not ever make this mistake again. An' if you ever break your word to me on this, Keith, fuck beatings an' fuck your patch...your life won't be worth a pile of stale dogshit. Understood?”
“I swear,” Keith promised. “It'll never happen again.”
“Good. Second, I want you to take all that anger you're feeling toward yourself an' point it at that asshole hangin' in the supply room. We gotta know what he knows, an' fast, before whoever's behind this decides to fuck with us again.”
Keith nodded. “Whatever's in his head, I'll rip it out, guaranteed.”
“You'd better,” Hunter said. He lifted the whiskey bottle and poured a final shot for Keith. “Now take your drink an' get back there. We got him all set up for you.”
Keith swallowed the whiskey, stood, and stormed into the supply room.
The spare rags and cleaning supplies that usually took up space back there had been relocated to make room for a narrow metal bed frame, stood up a few feet from the wall. Bones' skeletal form was hunched over the stubby legs of the frame on the floor, bolting them into place as two other Reapers held it upright and kept it steady.
Nostril's wrists and ankles were secured to the frame with handcuffs. He was struggling weakly, his wounded stomach stuffed with blood-drenched rags.
A modified car battery rested on the floor next to him.
“Hey!” he shrieked, seeing Keith. “Hey, you're a reasonable guy, okay? I could tell when we talked earlier at the motel. You gotta tell these guys I don't know nothin', understand? You gotta tell 'em I had nothin' to do with what happened to yer friend, please! Just take me to the hospital an' drop me out front, an' I won't tell 'em nothin' about you guys, I promise!”
“You promise, huh?” Keith asked mildly.
“Yeah, I swear, man!” Nostril mewled.
“Cross yer heart, stick a needle, all that?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes, absolutely!”
“I see,” Keith replied. “Well, Nostril, the thing is, we'd be happy to let you go. There's only so many times the cops'll look the other way when we kill motherfuckers, an' the way we see it, you ain't important enough to waste one of those times on. We know whatever went down in that parking lot, it wasn't yer fuckin' idea, so takin' the time an' trouble to kill you ain't gonna do jack shit fer us.”
“Right! Exactly!” Nostril exclaimed eagerly.
“An' as fer not tellin' the cops about us once you get to the hospital, we got no reason to doubt you on that score, 'cause by now you gotta know that if you did, we'd hunt you down an' fuckin' skin you alive.”
“I do!” Nostril agreed. “I do, one hundred percent! You scared the shit outta me, I'd never do anythin' to get on your bad side again, you can count on that!”
“Uh-huh,” Keith continued. “So that's all fine, an' we're gonna go ahead an' unlock you in a few minutes an' take you to the hospital. That sound good to you?”
“Great! Perfect! Wonderful!” Nostril chanted with the fervor of a former sinner accepting Christ as his savior. “I knew you were a good guy, I knew it, I knew it!”
“Sure I am,” Keith agreed. “But before we do, there's just one tiny thing you gotta do for us. You gotta stop lyin' about not knowin' who did this an' just tell us the truth, okay? We ain't mad at you or nothin'. We just need to know so we can figure out what we're up against an' how it needs to play out. Once you help us out with that, we got no more reason to keep you here.”
“But I don't know!” Nostril whined.
Keith shook his head sadly. “That just ain't good enough, Nostril,” he said, picking up the pair of alligator clips from the car battery and clamping them on the metal bed frame.
“Please! I'd tell you if I knew!” Nostril shrieked, tears streaming down his face. “If you let me go, maybe I can even find out for you, y'know? I know people, lots of people, I got my ear to the ground...”
Keith bent down and turned the switch on the battery.
Nostril's back arched as a long, gurgling scream ripped from the back of his throat. His arms and legs shook violently, rattling the short chains on the handcuffs. His eyes bulged in their sockets, and his mouth opened impossibly wide, displaying every rotten tooth all the way back to his molars.
Keith let the electricity run for a few more seconds, then switched it off. Nostril slumped against the bars, his muscles still twitching beneath his skin like writhing snakes. Keith smelled urine, and realized the dealer had lost control of his bladder. He lifted the battery and took a step back to make sure he was a safe distance from the thin yellow river on the floor, and Bones and the other Eagles did likewise.
“Come on, man,” Keith said. “Just give us a name an' you're free to go.”
“I...please, I just...I dunno,” Nostril whimpered.
Keith turned the switch again.
Nostril's body was wracked with spasms as he thrashed against the bed frame, squealing pitifully. The ball of bloody towels fell from his abdomen, revealing the deep exit wound. Tiny blue arcs of electricity jumped and jittered between the cuffs and the frame with a series of small pops.
Keith let it run a bit longer than last time before switching it off. Bones stood off to the side and nodded his approval, the blue lights dancing in his icy eyes.
“Last chance,” Keith said. “Next time, I'm just gonna leave it on 'til yer eyeballs fry outta yer head, an' by then I won't even give a fuck what you tell us or don't.”
“C-c-can't,” Nostril wheezed, his teeth clenching and chattering. “H-he'll...k-k-k-kill me...”
Keith lost his temper and dropped the car battery to the floor. He reached forward, slamming his rough fist against Nostril's stomach wound. Nostril howled with agony, and Bones exposed his straight white teeth in a horrid grin as the other two Eagles looked away.
“I'm the one you should be afraid of, you slimy fuckin' cum-ridden turd!” Keith yelled, punching the wound again. “Give me a fuckin' name or I'm gonna pull out yer insides an' make you eat 'em!”
“GASPAR!” Nostril screamed. “GASPAR GASPAR IT WAS GASPAR FUCKIN' GASPAR SET YOU UP!”
Keith stepped back, bent down, and snapped the battery on again.
“I'm gonna go tell Hunter,” he said to Bones. “Leave the thing on. If he ain't dead after five minutes, cut his fuckin' head off.”
Bones nodded again.
But as Keith left the room, wiping his bloody hand on the seat of his jeans, he knew Nostril would be dead long before then. The gash in his belly was tearing open wider with each new spasm.
As far as Keith was concerned, it was still better than the little zero deserved.
Chapter 9
Missy
Missy had waited for several hours, sipping watery coffee from a paper cup and flipping through magazines that were six months old while Cain got scanned and stitched up. When he was released with a cast on his broken arm, she drove him to a pharmacy to get his prescriptions filled. By then, the sun had been up for quite some time, and her eyelids were getting heavy.
Now Missy pulled the car up in front of Cain's place—a narrow one-story house on the
edge of town with cloudy windows, dirt-caked yellow aluminum siding, and an overgrown front yard littered with beer cans.
“Thanks for the ride,” Cain said tersely, opening the door. She could see his body tensing as he prepared to lift himself out of the car. Despite his rude behavior earlier, she still felt a pang of sympathy for him.
“Hey, um, are you sure you'll be okay?” Missy asked, trying to sound casual. “I can ask Hunter to send someone over to help you out while you're resting.”
Cain bristled visibly, and Missy prepared for another surly comeback. But when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. “The guys have got better stuff to do than bring me groceries and shit like that. I appreciate the offer, though. I'll see you around.”