Wreck You

by Abby Mccarthy

As I pull up to the front of the cottage, my intuition is screaming that something is off. The front door is cracked open. I pull out my .45 automatic and have it ready to fire. I’m not sure if anyone is in here, but they would’ve heard my truck, so better to face them head on than to pussyfoot. I move swiftly from room to room, my gun ready to fire if needed.

  My home is trashed. The fridge is on it’s side. Chairs are slashed. My flat screen TV is hanging off the wall with a hole through it. In the bedrooms, dressers are dumped out and the mattresses are flipped. Maura is nowhere to be found and that place in the pit of your stomach that makes you want to vomit from fear, is eating a hole. I won’t admit it, but I'm more afraid than I’ve ever been.

  When I found out I was going to be a dad; shite yeah I was scared, but mostly ticked that my baby was going to get Lacey as a Mom. Not that I had high hopes for Lacey’s future. I mean, the wacked out broad only made it until Maura was two before filling her veins with enough dope to take out an elephant. Before Maura, I killed, blew shite up and did whatever the damn IRA needed me to. She gave me purpose. I know living this life has not been the easiest, but I will be damned if it hurts her. If I need to fly to South America and kill Raul myself, I will. So help me, if a hair on her head is harmed, no one will be safe. I've been tame compared to the damage I am capable of. I’m not afraid to take on the entire cartel, and I fear I might just become unhinged enough to do it.

  I pull out my phone, “Prez, my place has been ransacked, Maura’s gone.”

  “Church,” Draygon says in his “I mean business tone” and disconnects. I make my way back to the clubhouse as other brothers pull up.

  I storm into Prez’s office. Draygon snarls at me, “I thought you had that shit handled?”

  He pisses me off acting like this is somehow my fault.

  “I did. The cartel had their first shipment of dope with the Italians last week. This is ballix.”

  I made a deal that we are getting guns from the Italians instead of the Red Nine, a local gang of thugs. The Italians are dealing with the cartel’s dope, so we stay clear of it. It was a hard deal, but everyone seemed happy about the new arrangement. We have a good relationship with the Italians, and they have been trying to get us to buy guns from them, instead of Red Nine, for a long time. The Italians were skeptical of running drugs for the cartel, but in the end, greed won out. I had to work with a few other Devil’s Crusader’s chapters to make sure that they wouldn’t interfere.

  “This doesn’t make sense. The deal was struck, and has been in everyone’s best interest.”

  Well, everyone except the Red Nine but they got too much heat on them. Working with them is getting riskier.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Prez says, and calls Church into session. We all sit around the large table with me to his right.

  “Maura is family. She might not be an ‘ole lady, but she’s family,” Draygon reminds the men of Maura’s importance, “I want all of you out calling in every favor. Let’s bring her home.”

  As Prez fills the brothers in and gives orders to find Maura, I watch Daws. He looks uncomfortable and I can’t help but remember how he avoided my gaze this morning. I squint my eyes on him. He sees me and shifts in his chair. He’s nervous and I'm calling him out.

  “Daws, ye got something ye need to be telling us about Maura?” My Irish accent is coming out thick and the brothers know this is a sign of my temper.

  “We went riding last night, got into it up at the overlook, and I took off pissed at her.”

  I rise from my chair staring Daws down. “Got into it how?” My voice is frighteningly calm. He was the last one to see her, and we are just now hearing about it.

  “We don’t need to talk about this now,” Daws says in an almost cocky way.

  “To hell we the feck don’t! If ye have any idea what the bloody hell happened to my daughter, ye better start talking right now, ye little wanker.”

  Daws raises his hands up to surrender. “Mickey, I don’t know where she is.”

  My eyes narrow at him. “What were you doing up there?”

  “Look, we started to get heavy, then I got pissed at her and left. That’s all.”

  Crack! My fist connects with his jaw. Brothers start pulling me back. “Yee not fecking good enough, ye little cunt.” I’m pissed! Daws sticks his dick in every fanny and I’ve seen him get downright kinky with some of them.

  “Enough,” roars Prez.

  *****

  It’s been days. My brothers have called in favors, and been all over this town. I’ve been in contact with every chapter of Devil’s Crusader’s. The Italians are also on the look out. I haven’t found the cartel yet, and I’m getting more anxious by the second. I called Maura’s Corbin days ago to see if he could get a lead. I got his number from her phone records, which was fairly easy since we’re on the same plan. He was surprised to hear from me, but said he would be stateside today and would come straight here. Not sure what I think about him yet, but one more man with some possible inside information on my girl can’t hurt.

  It’s starting to get late. I’m out of resources and I'm having my first beer in days. I’m anxious for Corbin to get here. I thought he would have been here hours ago. Just thinking about what could be happening to Maura makes my blood boil. I want to hurt someone, and right now, my need for vengeance is making me slightly unhinged, but I need to be smart. A smart man will use his rage when it serves him best.

  The clubhouse is all business. I can tell the brothers are starting to get antsy not having arse around for them to hit, but that’s too fecking bad. If shite hits the fan, then I need them focused. My phone chimes and it’s a text from Turk, who is working the gate.

  Turk: Marx here has a package

  Then my phone chimes a second time.

  Turk: Or two

  A smile creeps across my face, because the only package that Corbin could be bringing is the kind that has information for me. It’s also the kind that gets my rage. I don’t know how he did it, and I don’t care. I only care that I might have answers and soon.

  The door opens and in walks Corbin, dragging a barely conscious man who is cuffed at the wrist and ankles. I crack my knuckles and smile, this is going to be good.

  “One of you guys want to grab the other guy? He’s knocked out in the back.” Corbin doesn’t say hello as he enters he just drops the guy at my feet.

  “Skaggs, help Jules bring in the trash,” I direct.

  Hours go by and still we are left with nothing. Those guys had no clue where Maura was. I have a new respect for this guy of hers. He found the two guys who trashed my place within hours of getting stateside and that was something none of my connections could do. He also broke these arsehats within minutes. Turns out they were just a couple of low life thugs trying to get some type of reaction because apparently their cousin, the guy who called my daughter a cunt bitch, went missing. I worked them over pretty good for trashing my place, but it was pretty obvious that these two had no idea about Maura. Now that we know that the cartel doesn’t have her, I can’t help but feel even more helpless. At least that was something. Now, we have nothing. No idea where she is. It’s like she vanished and it’s fecking gutting me.

  “You need to get a better security system in place,” Corbin says to me.

  “You don’t think I get that? Twenty years and I've never had a problem with her safety.”

  “Well, it’s a big problem considering you don’t know where she is.”

  “I get that ye have a thing for Maura, but you best be minding your manners.”

  A few of my brothers look over trying to decide if they need to get involved. Corbin sips his beer, assessing the situation. He’s been taught well. Patience is one of the most valuable tools we have.

  “Relax, Marx. I owe ye for bringing the trash,” I pat him on the back.

  “Mickey, I respect you as her dad, but you should know that it’s not just a thing. At the risk of sounding like a pussy, she owns me.”
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  I smirk at him, glad that it’s that real for him.

  “Daws and Patrick should be back soon. They were meeting with the Italians to see if they have any leads on where she is.” I can see a tiny scrunch of Corbin’s nose when I mention Daws. He is a smart one, this man. Jules, who has been sitting quietly across from us at the table, chimes into the conversation.

  “I checked with Jenny. She hasn’t heard from her either.” If I was in a better mood, I might have busted on Jules a little for knowing Jenny’s number.

  I hear Daws’ pipes as he pulls up in front of the clubhouse, quickly followed by Patrick’s. When you are around the brothers enough, you learn who’s bike matches which sound. It doesn’t hurt either when they customize the bikes, putting the loudest pipes they can find on them.

  Daws walks into the clubhouse first. He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The bags under his eyes tell me that he is losing just as much sleep over this as I am. Patrick follows him, with his “I don’t give a feck“ attitude. I sit back in my chair and observe.

  Daws notices Corbin, “What the fuck is he doing here?” He stands in front of our table and lifts his head in Corbin’s direction.

  “I called him and good thing I did ‘cause he caught the guys who trashed my place hiding out in some campground of all places. Something you guys couldn’t do.” I throw in that last part as a dig. Daws keeps his eyes on Corbin. Corbin doesn’t back down, but stares directly back at him.

  “Did you get any info from them?”

  “Nah, the guys trashed my place ‘cause they were pissed about their cousin who was one of the guys that Corbin laid out. They were nothing but a couple of street punks. What about you two?” I question looking at Daws and Patrick. “Any news?”

  Patrick speaks up, “Italians had nothing for us. Carmine said he would let us know if he hears anything.”

  “Ballix!” I hiss through gritted teeth. I was really hoping they would have some news for us.

  Daws and Patrick pull up seats at our table and motion for Little Titty Rhonda to bring a round of drinks. It isn’t lost on me that Daws sits across from Corbin and can’t take his eyes off of him. Corbin begins talking. His slight southern accent grates a little on my nerves, but it might just be because I'm irritated in general.

  “What exactly do we know about the last time anyone has seen her?”

  “She was with me,” Daws replies.

  “And what the fuck was going on that she was with you, and that no one has seen her since?” Corbin raises his voice and rightfully so.

  “You mean after you...HURT her, and she called me to come and get her.” The legs of Daws chair scrapes against the floor as he stands to confront Corbin.

  “Sit down, Daws,” I order. “Corbin didn’t do anything to Maura. It was a misunderstanding. Why don’t you tell us what she was like when you last saw her?” I know he admitted to something happening between the two of them, but I can’t help but feel like its more.

  “We went riding up to the old overlook.”

  “Was she on your bike or hers?” Corbin questions.

  Jules with a chuckle says, “That silly fuck road her pink barbie scooter here for her.”

  “Was her bike at the cottage?” Corbin asks.

  “No,” I reply.

  “And it hasn’t been found?”

  “No, we haven’t seen her bike.” I turn to Daws ‘cause I realize he didn’t answer my question. “You gonna answer me? What was she like?”

  “You want to know what happened, fine. She was crying her eyes out, and I left her up there. I yelled at her, told her I was done with her, and left her. I’m sorry Mickey. I know I shouldn’t have left her, but I was pissed.”

  Corbin’s tone turns very serious and the coldness in his voice has even me looking at him twice. “Why was she crying? What did you do?”

  He is seething but I’m glad he’s asking. I see where this is going and I'm starting to feel the anger boil just under the surface. My rage can do damage, so I try to keep it in check, but this is my Maura. And I will be damned, brother or not, if I’ll let someone hurt her.

  “I don’t think you want to know, brother,” Daws says.

  “I’m not your brother.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Well, I am, ye wanker, so start talking. I want to know exactly what happened with you and Maura.” Daws is getting pissed ‘cause we’re calling him out, and he knows he can’t disrespect me. Rank is a funny thing like that.

  “You want to know, fine. I was fucking that little pussy, and she pissed me off, so I stopped fucking her, threw her clothes at her and left.”

  Thump.

  Thwack.

  Corbin is on him before I get a chance. His fist collides with Daws’ jaw and then another jab to his ribs.

  “You think it’s right to touch another man’s woman? ‘Cause she’s mine.”

  The table knocks to its side and beer falls to the floor. Daws tries to get a swing on him.

  “That’s not what it felt like when I was balls deep.”

  Corbin lunges again, his jab clearly breaking Daws’ nose. Daws tries to get one more swing, but Jules and Patrick are in between the two of them and are barely holding him back.

  “I will end you,” Corbin puffs out. The rise and fall of his chest show just how angry he is. Draygon appears from the back looking pissed that his son is getting worked over.

  “Daws, we got a problem?”

  I speak up before Corbin does, knowing that Draygon is not going to stand idle while someone works his boy, “If Marx didn’t hit him, I would’ve,” I glare at Daws.

  “You cool if I let him go?” Jules asks Corbin and then looks to me for confirmation that I'm not going to go after him either.

  Draygon calls Daws, “My office, now.”

  Daws tries to hold himself upright and walk to the back like he isn’t in pain, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Corbin broke a rib too.

  “Next time, save the beer,” Patrick snickers.

  *****

  Another day passes and still we got nothin’. Corbin and I've talked about why Maura fled Quantico the way she did. Corbin has grown on me. I find myself liking him for Maura. Once we find her, and we will find her despite it being five days since anyone has seen her, I really hope these two can work it out.

  Daws has very wisely stayed away from us. A man who has done wrong knows when to lay low. Corbin may have gotten a few licks in, but no brother of mine is going to talk about pussy in the same sentence as Maura, and come off scot-free. Daws will get his. I’m a patient man.

  Corbin walks out from the kitchen carrying the whole pot of coffee because apparently just a cup isn’t going to be enough. He sets it down on the table, reaches over the bar and grabs two coffee cups. He sits in front of me and pours each of us a cup. The clubhouse is empty, except for Jared who is passed out drunk on a bench by the pool tables.

  I flip my phone, turning it from top to bottom in my hand, hoping that it will ring and my Baby Girl will be on the line.

  “Mickey, I’ve been thinking. Any chance you think Maura just took off? Maybe she needed time. It would explain why her bike is nowhere to be found.”

  The thought has crossed my mind. I shake my head, “No, Maura wouldn’t just vanish without a word. She may have been all kinds of messed up in her head lately, but there is no way that she would have just up and left.”

  Corbin scratches behind his ear, “I’m running out of ideas then, because that is the only thing that seems to make any sense.”

  I fill our cups with the thick black coffee noting that Corbin drinks it black as well. You can tell a lot by how a man drinks his coffee; a man who puts that sweet shite in it might as well tuck his dick between his arse and call it a cunt.

  I continue flipping my phone and I decide on a fluke to dial Maura’s number. It’s gone straight to a full voicemail every other time but this time I hear the best fecking sound.

  “Daddy?”


  Chapter 17

  Maura

  5 days ago

  By the time I pull myself together enough to ride down the hill and back to the cottages, it’s late. I'm relieved to see that Dad’s bike isn’t here. I don’t want to face him. The gravel crunches under my boots as I walk up the porch stairs. This is the first time I've been back here since the shooting. I put the key in the lock, and take a few deep breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out. I remind myself, breathing in strength to do what I’m about to do. I turn the key and open the door to the cottage. There is no sign that anything bad happened here. There is no blood. It’s as if nothing happened. I push away the thoughts of those men and the shooting. If I'm going to do this, I have to put those thoughts away. I bury them in the recesses of my mind and quickly go into my bedroom.

  Seeing my bed, my mind wants to think about Corbin and our first time together, but I tell myself that I don’t deserve to think about that day. It was beautiful and lust filled, and I cloaked it in ugly. If I hadn’t destroyed it completely by my lack of trust in him, there’s no doubt that the act I just committed with Dawson would completely solidify it.

  I strip my clothes from my body, slip on my robe and enter the bathroom. I turn on the shower to let the water warm, and as the steam fills the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me as I step into the shower. I put soap on my loofa and scrub my skin until it’s pink and raw. The water runs cold and the sting from the temperature feels deserved.

  I run a brush through my hair and braid it to the side. Next, I dress in my black skinny jeans and a thermal Harley top. I put my leather chaps on over my jeans. They’re not my favorite fashion statement, but they’re a necessary evil when riding in the early fall, otherwise I’ll freeze my tits off. I pack a backpack to the brim, filling it with as much as I can that won't weigh me down. I walk into the living room and grab a pen and paper off of a side table.

  Daddy,

  I need to get out of town for a bit and get my head on straight. I feel like I've been making one bad decision after the next. I talked to Jenny a few weeks back and she has a friend who needs a job. Please call her and get that sorted. I’m sure she will make a good replacement for me while I’m gone. I’m not sure where I’m going or how long I will be gone, but I need to do this. Don’t send the boys after me. I hope you understand, and don’t be pissed. Tell Jenny I’m sorry for being a bitch lately. I’ll call you.