Army

by Wilder, Chiah

  The smile she aimed at him was weak as she picked up her fork and began to eat.

  Hours later Army and Mia lay wrapped in each other’s arms, sated and warm, their naked bodies cocooned in a mass of tangled sheets. Army stared at the wall, striped with moonlight filtering through the blinds on the window as he twirled a strand of brown silken hair in his fingers.

  “By this time tomorrow night, you’ll be home safe,” Mia whispered, tilting her head back and gazing at him.

  “Go to sleep, baby.” Army kissed her softly on the lips. “I love you.”

  “Me too.” Her voice quivered slightly. She rested her head on his chest and tightened her grip around his waist.

  Silence filled the room, and Army fell asleep, Mia’s body pressed to his, her finger tracing the line of Adam’s apple and collarbone and pecs.

  * * *

  The following night, Army tucked his gun into his waistband as he waited for Eagle and Sangre at the motel. The two had gone to a convenience store to stock up on energy drinks.

  “I scoped out the area today and saw more of the fuckers,” Crow said as he stared at the television screen.

  “How many?” Goldie asked.

  “Five.” Crow lit up a joint.

  “We’ll go in slowly to make sure no one’s at the field yet. There are bleachers and bushes plus a ton of trees around there we need to secure.” Army pushed the curtains aside and looked out the window. “Did the fuckers see you?”

  “I don’t think so, but I wasn’t wearing my cut.”

  There’d been a strained tension between Army and Crow since the member had arrived in Durango, but the fact that Crow was willing to fight by Army’s side meant a lot to him.

  Army saw Eagle’s SUV pull into the parking lot and he let go of the curtains and turned around. “They’re back,” he said.

  The two entered the room and dispersed cans of energy drinks around the room. “The chick at the counter was ready to jump Eagle’s bones,” Sangre said as he popped the top on the can.

  “You can hook up with her after we beat the Pistons’ asses,” Jigger said.

  “She’s cute but too skinny. I like a woman I can grab onto.” Eagle opened a drawer and took out a 9mm and stuck it into his jeans pocket.

  “Are we ready to rock and roll?” Goldie asked as he rose to his feet.

  “Yeah,” Army replied.

  “Let’s go kick some Piston ass,” Muerto said, opening the door.

  The men laughed as they walked out of the room and into the parking lot. They’d driven to Durango in two SUVs for obvious reasons, and Army slid into the front seat of the one Sangre drove.

  “There’s no way the lazy asses are gonna get there two hours before the fight.” Cueball offered a joint to Army who took it with a jerked of his chin.

  “I could wait all night if it meant beating the shit outta Shark or one of the other assholes,” Diablo said as he cracked his knuckles.

  “Is the deal with the fuckers and the 39th Street shits still going down next week?” Ruger asked.

  Army blew out and smoke billowed around him. “According to Lil’ Donnie it’s a go.”

  “The fucking Pistons have been a real pain in the ass. It’s time we get rid of them for good,” Diablo growled.

  “Like we did with the asshole Skull Crushers,” Cueball added. The men grumbled their agreement as the car drove further away from the lights of the city.

  Army pointed his finger to the left. “Turn here.”

  The night before, the men had agreed to park the two cars in a neighborhood six blocks away from the old ballpark and walk to it. Sangre pulled over then turned off the ignition. The men filed out of the car, and Army shoved his hands into his pockets in an attempt to warm them up a little as the group of men made their way to the field.

  It was a starless, moonless night. Streams of gray clouds stretched over the sky giving it a hazy, ominous feel; in the distance, the city lights ebbed to a mere inkling. A trembling gush of wind rattled the trees’ branches as the Night Rebels approached the field.

  After securing the area, Goldie, Jigger, and Eagle disappeared behind the tall evergreens; Crow, Brutus, and Muerto found bushes in which to crouch down low; and Sangre, Diablo, Cueball, and Ruger found refuge under the bleachers. Army stood by a rusting chain-linked fence and waited. Memories of playing baseball at the park swirled in his head. In his mind, the rotting bleachers were new and clean, and his mother sat in the middle of them in her bright yellow sundress cheering him on. He’d been nine years old the summer he’d joined the baseball team—The Tigers. His father had made it to a couple of his games that summer, but his mother hadn’t missed one. Afterwards, she’d have the team over to their house and serve lemonade and freshly baked cookies. Once the summer had ended and the trees had begun shedding their leaves, his mother ran away from the family … from him. Army shook his head and banished the images to the back of his mind. I need to stop thinking about shit and focus. An eerie stillness settled over the field as he waited for Shark to show up.

  A half hour later, Army heard movement in the dry leaves. His body tensed and he placed his hand on the gun in his waistband. His eyes scanned the area looking for raccoons, skunks, or possum, but he didn’t see anything and he knew that the Pistons were getting into position. He strained his ears to figure out where they were hiding, but it had grown quiet again except for the occasional hoot of a hidden owl. Army crouched down, his senses on high alert, his gaze darting all around.

  At exactly eleven o’ clock, slapping footsteps echoed angrily into the emptiness of the night, and Army stood up and walked slowly toward Shark.

  “You alone?” Shark asked.

  “Same as you,” Army answered.

  The two men glared at each other for several minutes, then Shark shuffled his feet on the dirt and looked down as if he’d dropped something. Army didn’t follow his gaze; instead he kept it focused on the asshole. Shark bent down then lunged forward toward Army, but he’d anticipated the move and jumped back, and then followed up with a fist to Shark’s jaw. Adrenaline surged through Army, his pulse a steady drumbeat.

  Shark raised his clenched hands, but Army ducked forward and down, Shark’s fist just missing the side of his face. Army moved to the right and his left foot stepped into a hole and he stumbled. Shark lifted his muscled arms straight in the air, brought them down on Army’s shoulders, dumping Army on his ass.

  “You’re fuckin’ dead,” he hissed as he glared at Army with cold brown eyes.

  Shark kicked Army, digging the toe of his boot into Army’s side. “You think you can fuck my sister?” he gritted, bringing his heel down on Army’s stomach.

  Fuck! Army winced in pain and he sucked in a deep breath then exhaled. He looked up in time to see Shark’s boot ready to come down on him again, and with the speed of light, Army grabbed Shark’s foot and twisted it hard then pushed back. Shark groaned in pain as he stumbled backwards, and Army jumped up quickly and lunged at Shark with both fists swinging. Army landed a hard blow to Shark’s jaw and he staggered back, and then Army drove his fists over Shark’s face before quickly bringing his knee up and thrusting it hard into Shark’s groin.

  “Fuck you!” Shark gasped as he bowled over, his hands flying to his crotch.

  Army’s knee hit Shark’s chin toppling the Piston to the ground. He kicked the downed man hard in the leg and was ready to strike him again when he saw five men emerge from behind a cluster of pine trees. As they rushed toward Army, he stepped back and saw the Night Rebels come out from their hiding places.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Fists against skin.

  Shattering kicks from steel-toed boots.

  Splintering bones.

  Grunts. Threats.

  As Army wrapped his hands around Shark’s neck, two headlights lit up the field, and the fighters scattered out of the way as a bronze SUV came closer.

  “What the fuck?” Army said out loud as he saw Taylor behi
nd the wheel. His brother parked the car then jumped out and rushed over to him.

  “You’re okay.” Relief filled Taylor’s voice.

  “Get the fuck outta here!” Army yelled.

  Shark pushed Army away then jumped up, laughing dryly. “Did your little brother come to help you out, asshole?” He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand then spat on the ground.

  Taylor looked over at Shark and smiled. “I’m really good friends with Mia.”

  “Well isn’t that fuckin’ nice?” Shark glowered.

  “Go home, Taylor. This isn’t your fight,” Army said as he grabbed his brother’s arm.

  Taylor jerked away. “I’m here as a mediator. Nothing will be accomplished by beating the shit out of each other.”

  “Move outta the way, Taylor,” Diablo said.

  “Is this asshole for real?” Army heard one of the Pistons ask.

  “I’m here to make peace between you.” Taylor looked at Shark. “And you.” He looked at Army. “Mia’s upset over the two of you not getting along. She’s a wonderful—”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. If you don’t get your ass in the car right now, me and some of the brothers are gonna make you.” Army took a few steps toward his brother.

  “I’m just trying to help,” Taylor said.

  “You’re doing the opposite.” Army had his back to Shark, and the Night Rebels and Pistons started throwing insults at each other which quickly turned into blows. Army glanced behind him and saw the men fighting, and then he turned back to Taylor. “Just get the fuck outta here. I don’t want something to happen—”

  Bam! Taylor fell to the ground with a thud as blood poured down the side of his head. Bam! An industrial flashlight slammed across his left leg and Taylor howled.

  “Fuck! Taylor!” Army ran over to his side and dropped to his knees. “Can you hear me?” White-hot bolts of rage ripped through him.

  “Yeah …”

  Out of the corner of Army’s eye, he saw Shark ready to slam the fucking flashlight over his head, and he reached down inside his boot and took out a knife. Army scooted away a bit then leapt up and plunged the knife into Shark’s gut.

  “Fuck!” the Piston cried out, covering his stomach with his hands as he fell to the ground; the weapon he was holding rolled away in the dirt. A dark crimson stain spread around him as his lids fluttered then closed.

  Army leaned over and felt for Shark’s pulse. Nothing. “Fuck … oh … Mia,” he said as he walked away.

  The fight continued to rage all around Army, but he no longer saw it. All he could see was his brother lying motionless on the brown grass.

  Kneeling beside him, Army shrugged off his cut and whipped his T-shirt over his head. He put it against the wound on Taylor’s head and applied pressure.

  “Wake the fuck up!” Army yelled, shaking his brother. “Don’t fuckin’ die on me!”

  Gunfire punctured the night air, and in the distance sirens wailed.

  Eagle came over to Army. “We gotta take off, dude. The badges are coming.”

  “Taylor’s hurt.”

  “We can take him with us.”

  Army shook his head. “He’s hurt bad. He’s gotta get to a hospital.” He shook his brother again and Taylor’s eyes opened and stared vacantly at him. “Can you hear me, buddy?” His brother licked his lips then nodded. “Okay … that’s good. Listen to me—I’m gonna get you to a hospital. Just hang in there and don’t fuckin’ fall asleep.”

  Army looked up at Eagle. “Did any of the brothers take a bullet?”

  “No. A couple of Piston fuckers did. They drew their guns first.”

  “Get the hell outta here. No sense in dealing with the fuckin’ badges.” Army glanced back at Taylor. “I gotta make sure he gets to the hospital.”

  Eagle jerked his head at Shark. “Is he dead?”

  Army looked over at his lifeless body. “Yeah. The fucker attacked Taylor and was aiming for me. Guess I cut a major artery.” Army narrowed his eyes. “He got what he deserved.”

  The sirens seemed to be moving closer.

  “We gotta get the fuck outta here,” Diablo said as he came up to Eagle and Army.

  “All of you go now. I’m staying with Taylor. There’s no reason for you to have trouble with the badges.” Army looked over his shoulder. “Are the fucking Pistons gone?”

  “The pussies ran at the first sound of the sirens,” Diablo answered.

  “Any of the brothers hurt?” Army asked.

  “Just banged up with some cuts. Nothing that can’t heal.” Diablo grinned.

  “Then go,” Army said.

  “We picked up all the weapons and shit, even from the pussies. That reminds me—gimme your guns. You don’t want the badges finding those on you.” Diablo put his hand on Army’s shoulder. “They’re gonna take you in.”

  “I know. Call Hawk and see if his old lady can help out or recommend a lawyer. Now get the hell outta here.” Army glanced at Taylor whose eyes were beginning to close. He lightly shook him. “Don’t fall asleep. The fuckin’ badges will be here soon to get you help.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Eagle asked.

  “Yeah. Can you let Mia know I’m okay?” Eagle nodded and Army gave him her number.

  Eagle clutched Army’s arm and then disappeared into the darkness with the other brothers.

  Taylor jerked and Army held him close. “Just don’t fuckin’ die, okay? Promise me that.”

  The police sirens splintered the night air and blue and red strobes flashed as the cars came to a screeching halt. For the first time in Army’s life, he was happy to see the badges, and when they approached him with guns drawn, he held his hands up as he told them Taylor needed an ambulance.

  One badge handcuffed Army while the other frisked him then they escorted him to the police car and put him in the back seat. Army stared at the ambulance that carried Taylor speed away then he settled back against the seat. Two badges slipped into the car, and the driver turned the ignition and drove away from the scene. He caught Army’s eye in the rearview mirror.

  “You want to tell me what happened tonight?” he asked.

  Army looked away. “I’m not saying shit. I want an attorney.”

  “You may change your mind when you get to the station.”

  “I won’t,” he replied.

  As the squad car drove down the city streets, Army stared into the dark night.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Mia sat on the metal chair near Taylor’s bed watching the machines beep and sigh as she held his hand in hers. Taylor had suffered a bad concussion and his left femur had been shattered. He’d had emergency surgery when he’d been admitted, and the doctor had placed a rod with twenty pins into his thigh. Mia knew there was a very strong probability that Taylor’s injuries could end his fighting career.

  “You’re here,” Taylor said in a groggy voice.

  “Hey.” She smiled even though her heart was breaking. It was bad enough that Taylor lay in the hospital, but Army was in jail and Vic was dead. It all seemed too surreal for her brain to really comprehend it. In just a short twenty-four hours everything had changed.

  “Why isn’t Army here?” Taylor asked.

  Mia patted his hand. “He’s been arrested.”

  He tried to sit up but yelled out in pain and then collapsed back down on the pillows. “Why?”

  Mia inhaled deeply then slowly blew out the breath. “He killed Vic, or at least that’s what the cops are saying.” Saying the words out loud still didn’t make the situation real for her.

  “Vic attacked me. He was going to do the same to Army. I need to clear it up.”

  “You can when the cops come and talk to you, but right now you need to calm down.” Mia leaned back in the chair. “How does your head feel?”

  “Fucked up.” He glanced over at her. “I guess I threw the chance at making it to the pros in the damn toilet.” />
  “Not necessarily. Look at all the pros who had horrible injuries but made comebacks—Matt Hughes, Daniel Straus, Darrell Hocher, and many others. I’m not going to say it’ll be easy, but you can do it if you want it badly enough. You’re only twenty-four years old, so that’s a huge plus in the MMA world.”

  “I’m not worried about the broken femur. I know I can rehab real well by working my ass off, but it’s the fucking concussion that could be the deal breaker. Look at Chris Holdsworth—he never could fight again after his.”

  “But you don’t know if your injury will be like his. Just take it one day at a time,” Mia said even though she knew the odds were stacked against him.

  A man with graying temples in a brown houndstooth jacket entered the room. “Hi. I’m Detective Cordova and I have some questions I’d like to ask you,” he said to Taylor.

  Mia stood up, but Taylor reached out for her. “Don’t go. Please stay.”

  The detective looked at her. “Who are you?”

  “Mia Decelles,” she said softly.

  Cordova raised his eyebrows. “So you’re Victor Decelles’ sister.” She nodded. “I was going to come to your house after I left here. I can interview you after I talk with Taylor.”

  “Army was trying to defend me … and himself,” Taylor said and the detective’s eyes darted to him. “Vic attacked me then I saw him ready to clobber Army over the head with the same thing he used on me.”

  Detective Cordova nodded as he walked closer to the bed. “I need to break it down a little more.” He glanced at Mia. “Could you please wait outside?”

  She smiled at Taylor then patted his hand. “I’ll be back later.” And then she walked out of the room.

  * * *

  Later that night Mia sat on the couch drinking a glass of chardonnay as a tingle of excitement wove through her. Army’s attorney had just called her to tell her he’d arranged for her to visit Army at the jail the following morning. The attorney had told the deputies Mia worked for the law firm, so she would be able to meet with Army in a private room.

  Mia took a sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through her. She hadn’t seen or talked to Army since he’d left that fateful night to meet up with her brother. When she’d first learned about Vic’s death she was stunned and couldn’t believe that her boyfriend had killed her brother. But as Mia learned about what had happened that night, she knew in her heart that Army had not gone to the fight with the intention of killing Vic. Instead, he had tried to defend Taylor and himself from Vic’s vicious attack.