Minus (Burning Saints MC, #1)

by Jack Davenport

  Minus

  “What the fuck is in this coffee, Phil?”

  “I’m sorry, Clutch, I would have made a fresh pot if I knew you and Minus were... stopping by. Here let me make...”

  Phil tried to stand, but the barrel of Clutch’s gun pointed at his head convinced him to remain seated. The grease-stained office chair seemed to groan in agony from beneath his bulky frame.

  “You’re good right there, Phil. I’m just going sit here and sip my delicious cup of motor oil, while my good friend, Minus, looks for Cutter’s money.”

  I shot a cold stare back at Clutch, who was now in full on ‘Sergeant at Arms Mode.’ He was the perfect choice for the position. I’ve never backed down from a fight and I’ve even started my fair share, but Clutch looked forward to violence.

  “Really, it’s no trouble, Clutch. I’m happy to do it.” Heavy beads of sweat formed on Phil’s stubbled upper lip, which was frozen in a nervous grin.

  “You see, that’s always been your problem, Phil, you don’t listen very well. For instance, you didn’t listen when I told you not to bother with the coffee. We won’t be here very long, and I highly doubt the next cup could possibly be any better than this swill.” Clutch dumped the remainder of his cup on Phil’s trash littered desk. “You also failed to hear me when I asked you where Cutter’s money is, and now my associate, Minus, is probably going to get his shitty cowboy boots even dirtier rooting around your filthy shop looking for it.

  I flipped Clutch off and began casually tossing Phil’s rat hole of an office. It wasn’t as if his place was some sort of secured facility. His shitty garage was on par with his persona, a low-level guy Cutter used only when needed.

  “I doubt even Phil would be stupid enough to keep that much money here,” I said.

  “Are you, Phil?” Clutch asked.

  “What?” Phil asked.

  “Are you that stupid?”

  “What?”

  “You keep saying ‘what.’ Are you having trouble with your hearing, Phil? Maybe I can help you with that.”

  Clutch holstered his gun and pulled out a blade. He walked behind Phil and grabbed his head, pressing his knife to Phil’s ear. Phil tried to squirm, but Clutch held firm.

  “Hold still, will ya? What could go wrong? This is a chop-shop after all; a place where large things get cut up into small pieces, so this should work out well. I’m going to ask you one more time to point us in the direction of Cutter’s three million dollars. If you fail to hear me this time, I’m going to be forced to improve your hearing.”

  I chuckled. “Wouldn’t cutting his ear off make his hearing worse?”

  “I’m not a doctor, Minus. I’m pretty sure Phil here understands that I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances, don’t you, Phil?”

  Phil’s bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, as he grunted out, “Sure Clutch.”

  “I simply need my good buddy Phil to hear my question as clearly as possible. So here it goes, one more time. Where is Cutter’s fucking money?”

  “It’s not here...”

  The first drops of blood appeared as the blade pressed into the soft flesh where his earlobe connected to his head.

  “I’ll tell you where it is!” he screamed instantly. “I swear to God, I’ll tell you where it is.”

  Clutch stopped, straightened, and looked at me, smiling. “See, it worked! He can hear just fine now.”

  “I think you missed your calling, Doctor Clutch,” I said.

  “You asshole, you almost cut my fucking ear off!” Phil snapped.

  “Come on, Philly Cheese Steak, I barely touched you. Now, where’s the money?” Clutch asked, once again leveling his pistol to Phil’s head.

  “A dude named Viper hired my crew to steal a car. That’s it!” he squeaked. “I swear I didn’t know there was money in the trunk until the car got here, and they opened it up.”

  “But once you saw the money, you didn’t think to call Cutter?”

  “How was I supposed to know the money was his?”

  “Don’t make me shoot you for being stupid, Phil. The Saints are your business partners. Three mil shouldn’t be able to roll through here without alarm. You should have called Cutter as soon as you saw the cash.”

  “You’re right, Clutch. You’re absolutely right.” Blood ran down the rolls of pink flesh that made up his neck as his hands applied pressure to the wound.

  I cocked my head. “Now tell me, who the fuck is Viper and where can I find him?”

  “He’s the new head of Los Psychos, the Mexican club. They hang out at the Nine Ball.”

  “Leo’s old place?”

  “That’s the place! I swear that’s all I know. It was supposed to be a simple job; snatch the Caddy, and bring it back here for the pickup. I didn’t know anything about Cutter’s money being in the trunk, or that you were involved Minus.” Phil’s attention turned to me. “Last I heard you moved to Texas or something.”

  “I’m not involved, so leave me the fuck out of this,” I said.

  I’d always hated Phil. He was a piece of shit and I couldn’t wait to get out of his garage. Besides being a car thief, Phil was also a loan shark and a meth dealer. The exact sort of bottom feeder I was trying to protect my club from years ago.

  Phil continued, “I know Cutter and I have had our disagreements lately... and that mistakes have been made. Like I said, I didn’t know it was his money and I will personally apologize to Cutter myself.”

  “Don’t worry, Phil, I’ll let him know how sorry you were.”

  The sound of Clutch’s silenced .45 was still loud enough to startle me. Phil’s body, now two holes greater, lie on his office floor in a heap, a pool of blood rapidly forming underneath his lumpy frame.

  Clutch simply holstered his gun and shrugged.

  “What the fuck, man?” I shouted

  “Cutter wanted him gone,” Clutch said flatly. “He’s got plans for this place, and Phil was getting sloppier and sloppier.”

  “You didn’t want to clue me in? What the fuck are we gonna do with the body?”

  “You worry too much Minus, you always did. I’ve got a cleaning crew on standby. Cutter wants this all taken care of right away. We’ve got to get to the Sanctuary. Plus, we still have to find out more about this Viper prick, and I’d like to be in bed before three a.m.”

  “No, you need to find out more about Viper,” I snapped back. “I’m only here for a meeting with Cutter, and that’s it. Twenty-four hours, and then I’m headed back to Savannah. As a matter of fact, I’m not even here.”

  “Yeah, well plans may have just changed,” he said as he dialed the number for the cleaning crew.

  “Yes, I called earlier about a bad stain in my carpet,” Clutch said. “That’s correct, the one located in my hallway. I’d like to have a crew come out right away please. Thank you.”

  He hung up and we made our way out through the back entrance, to his Barracuda parked in the rear lot. As we got in, Clutch said, “Ya know, you still haven’t told me exactly why you’re back in town.”

  “Yes, I did. Cutter called me and asked me to meet with him, so here I am.”

  “I understand that, but why?” he asked as we peeled off into the night. “Everyone here thought you were swallowed up by some swamp, as the late great Phil so astutely pointed out.”

  “Astutely?” I choked out in surprise.

  “Hey, motherfucker, I read some of those books you sent me when I was in the joint. Anyways, don’t change the subject.”

  “I told you I have no idea, and I wouldn’t lie to you, now slowdown, will ya? The last thing we need is for your dumb ass to get pulled over fleeing a murder scene.”

  Clutch, ignoring my request, continued his interrogation. “Don’t get cute with me, bro. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems a little odd that you’re so casual about meeting with a guy you haven’t spoken to directly in six years, who exiled you to Hicksville USA, and that... Oh yeah, once tried to kill you!”
>
  “Look, you know Cutter as well as I do. He never does anything without good reason. He has his reasons for asking me here, and I have my reasons for saying yes.”

  “Is one of those reasons her?” he challenged.

  “Fuck you, Nicky.”

  “That’s not a no.”

  “You’re right, it’s a fuck you, Nicky. I haven’t seen or talked to her since I left, and she has no idea I’m in town. In fact, no one knows I’m in town and that’s exactly the way I want to keep it.”

  “Well, Phil sure as fuck knows,” Clutch said laughing. “I’ve got a feeling Viper’s gonna know pretty soon as well.”

  “I told you you’re on your own with this bullshit. I don’t know anything about Cutter’s three million dollars, or who this Viper guy is, but this all sounds like more of a you problem, than a me problem,” I said.

  Clutch finally slowed down and his expression turned deadly serious. “It’s a club problem, Minus, and last I checked, you still wear a Saints patch.”

  I nodded, but said nothing. We drove on through the ever-present Portland drizzle until we reached the Sanctuary, the Burning Saint’s compound. The cluster of buildings used to belong to a paper company that went out of business years ago, and were now owned outright, by the club.

  Clutch pulled out a remote control and punched in a code which opened a rolling security gate.

  “Trust me, pal, as important as you may think you are to Cutter, the club’s three million in cash is more important,” Clutch said as he parked. “I’m gonna have to sniff around a little and see what we can find out about Viper and his crew. These Los Psychos have been making a lot of noise around town, so if they really are involved it’s gonna complicate things. For all we know, Phil was lying through his rotten teeth, but Cutter’s gonna want me to make sure, and honestly, I could use some trustworthy backup. So, are you gonna help me with this or not?”

  I paused for few moments then asked, “Who’s the pile of cash from?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. Cutter’s been cagey lately; secretive and shit. He’s been keeping everyone at arm’s length. Look man, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you’ve been summoned here, at the same time this payment was scheduled to be delivered.”

  Clutch’s tone shifted. “I also don’t believe that you haven’t thought about what you might say if you see... her.”

  “You can say her name, ya know. Regardless of what you may believe, Cutter is not omniscient,” I said.

  “I can say her name, but you can’t, my friend. According to Cutter you can’t even think about her.”

  “Yeah, he made that pretty clear the night he hung me over the Burnside bridge, so why the fuck do you keep bringing her up?” I asked.

  We got out of the car and made our way to the entrance of the Chapel, the Sanctuary’s main building, and our meeting hall.

  “Just making sure you’ve got your head on straight should you run into her, that’s all,” Clutch replied.

  “Being as she and Cutter don’t talk, she and I don’t talk, and Cutter and I don’t talk, I can’t imagine why or how I could possibly run into Cricket Wallace.”

  As we approached the clubhouse I could hear what sounded like a party going on inside. Clutch opened the door and it took me a moment to believe my eyes.

  Standing amongst a sea of leather, denim, beer bottles, and beards was a stunning blonde. With long legs supporting the sexiest body ever created and a face so beautiful, it made me forget what any other woman looked like.

  Cricket Wallace was standing ten feet away from me, in the middle of the Chapel.

  “Hi, Jase, it’s good to see you again.”

  Minus

  “What the fuck is this?” I growled out to Clutch. Cricket stared back at me like I’d just shot her puppy. For about two-point-five seconds, then her eyes flashed with irritation.

  “Or... Gee, Cricket, it’s nice to see you, too. Been a long time,” she shot back with a sarcastic smile that made me want to take her to one of the back rooms right now and chew her clothes off.

  I said nothing.

  “Hey there, Cricket. It’s... uh, good to... see you. It’s been... ah... a while,” Clutch stumbled over his words, ending with, “I’m gonna... go get a beer,” before disappearing into the mass of congregated Saints, leaving me alone, standing face-to-face with Cricket fucking Wallace.

  I couldn’t believe she was here, or that she’d gotten even hotter since I’d last seen her. I was twenty-three at the time, and I had just been patched in, and given my club name. Cricket was barely twenty-one, and just started hanging around the clubhouse. Her family had been estranged from Cutter, and she was getting to know her long-lost uncle again. The reunion was short-lived, however, when I decided to get to know her myself. I’d gotten in way deeper than I’d intended, and although we tried to keep our relationship under wraps, I guess word got out.

  When Cutter found out, I was sent away to the Savannah chapter, and Cricket’s brother, who rode with the Dogs of Fire, forbid her to be around the Saints ever again. To say I was shocked to see her standing before me now would be an understatement.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Okay, that one I’m going to take personally, Jase.” She crossed her arms. “Fuck you, too.”

  Her reaction stung enough to snap me back to reality. For the first time, I was able to more clearly focus on the other occupants of the room. A who’s who of Oregon and Washington Burning Saints were spread out within the clubhouse’s great hall. Some old RatHound song was playing in the background, while a group played pool in the corner. It was all bros and backslaps, like some sort of goddamned family reunion. It looked like just about every patch from the pacific northwest was present.

  My attention snapped back to Cricket.

  “Where’s Cutter?” I asked as I pushed my way past her into the crowd. I tried to keep my head down and avoid eye contact with anyone. I had no idea I’d be walking into such a grand affair, and wasn’t prepared to play catchup with everyone in the room.

  “I don’t know. I just got here about thirty seconds before you walked in,” she said. “Have I done something wrong to you, Jase?” she asked, staying a close step behind as I made my way through the throngs of old familiar faces.

  “Minus. No one calls me Jase anymore,” I ground out.

  “Oh, I’m very sorry that I didn’t refer to you by your super tough biker name. The last time I saw you, you were still Jase, at least some of the time.”

  “What do you want, Cricket?” I asked, still refusing to look back at her.

  “Who says I want anything? It’s been five years since we’ve seen each other, and I was only trying to say—”

  “Six.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been six years since we’ve seen each other, and your uncle, my president, wanted it that way. As a matter of fact, so did your asshole brother, and as another matter of fact, I’m not even supposed to be talking to you,” I yelled over the din as I continued to scan the room for Cutter.

  “Jesus, Minus. Do you still do everything you’re told? We were kids back then,” Cricket said, her airy laugh cutting through the masculine clatter of the room.

  I shook off the intoxicating sweetness of her voice and spun around quickly to face her, causing her to take a small step backwards in surprise.

  “Wrong!” I shouted. “Maybe you were a kid, but I was a brand-new patch being dangled off a bridge, while my bags were being packed for me. It may be ancient history to you, but I wake up in Savannah every day. My shit’s in a different time zone because of you.”

  “Because of me? You’re saying it’s my fault that you...”

  I heard very little of what she said to me over the next few moments. She was impossibly sexy, and I could barely focus on her words. I was also still white hot angry at the fact that she was here of all places. I couldn’t avoid her, I couldn’t fuck her, and I
couldn’t leave.

  “Jase, are you listening to me?” Cricket’s elevated pitch brought be back to reality.

  “Minus,” I reminded, before adding, “and no... not really.” I turned around and started towards the back offices. “I’m looking for Cutter, and the last thing I need is you following me around like a puppy.”

  “I’m not following you!” she yelled over the ever-increasing noise of Saintfest, or whatever the fuck was going on tonight. “Okay, maybe I am following you, but it’s only because I was trying to take the high road, and be nice; even though I have no reason to do so. You’re the one who should be apologizing to me, and instead, you’re being an ass.”

  “You’re right, Cricket. I’m an ass. In fact, please do us both a favor and go do... whatever the fuck it is you’re here to do, as long as it’s away from me.” I stopped in front of Cutter’s office door, but before I could knock, the door swung open and Cutter smiled wide, extending his arms out for an embrace before gleefully shouting, “Minus! Cricket! How perfect that you’re both here at the same time. I’m so glad the two of you could make it.”

  This was turning out to be one strange fucking night indeed.

  * * *

  Cricket

  I don’t know what surprised me more, the fact that the love of my life was suddenly in front of me, my notoriously grumpy uncle was greeting me with a smile and a hug, or that his office smelled like Snoop Dog’s tour bus. All of it was way too much to process at the present time.

  “Hi, Uncle Cutter, it’s nice to see you, too,” I said into his barreled chest, as he held me tight. I was mere inches away from Minus, who had also been entrapped in this surprise bear hug. My uncle’s beard and long hair reeked of pot smoke. He finally let go and I stepped back, smoothing my hands over my hips and glancing to Minus, who looked as stunned as I was.

  Gorgeous, yes. Sexier than ever, yes. But definitely stunned.

  He was a lot bigger... wider, really, since I’d last seen him. Leaving Portland appeared to have agreed with him. He’d grown an epic beard, and I itched to run my fingers through it. His face had the same chiseled features and he had the same longish, dark blond hair that he’d pulled back into a band. His eyes, though, God, those blue eyes still brought me to my knees.