by Adam Knight
Beneath my fingers I could feel his bones grinding together, his heart beat pulsing off time from my own. My flesh buzzed all over, the tingle at the back of my neck now a flood. Washing me in cool sensations, feeding me confidence and energy.
It took no effort to pull Shawn forward and bend his wrist unnaturally to the breaking point. He cried out, lurching forward and dropping to both knees in front of me. His free hand was on mine, trying to get a grip under my fingers. With my free hand I negligently took the pistol away from his limp fingers; leaving him trapped, immobile and unarmed.
This took all of a second. Maybe less.
The other two gunmen blinked in surprise. Things had changed for them so quickly that they could only stare at me now, looming over their front man.
I gave them my best glower. It wasn’t hard to manufacture emotion, I was completely incensed. How dare these criminal motherfuckers lay their hands on Cathy? Point guns at me? The back of my neck buzzed, sending still more energy down my body. My fingers tightened further around Shawn’s wrist, causing him to gasp in greater pain as his bones ground together. The knuckles on my free hand whitened as I gripped the pistol, holding it by the barrel down at my side.
Nervous Guy stepped slightly away, clearly unnerved and trying to back out of the picture. His gruff demeanor completely shattered even though he still had distance and a pistol in hand. The other Posse member recovered after a moment and snapped his pistol upwards.
“Drop it!” I snapped, my voice crackling in the air. I pulled upwards on Shawn’s arm, forcing him to rise off his knees slightly against the pressure. His voice crying out in pain.
“Let him go!”
“I will break his fucking arm right now if you don’t drop your guns!”
Shawn cried out in pain again as I squeezed.
“Do it!” he moaned. “Do it!”
“But Shawn, I can …”
Squeeze.
“Drop your fucking guns!” he bellowed, pleading.
Heavy thumps of iron hitting wood. Nervous guy faded back against the wall, trying to hide behind Cathy’s captors. The other guy glowered at me, fear finally starting to show in his eyes.
My heart continued racing. Despite the energy surging through me and the confidence I was portraying deep down in the pit of my belly I was still terrified. I kept my face angry, my voice harsh. Doing my best Clint Eastwood impression to keep my composure.
“Let the girl go.”
Both boys reluctantly released Cathy’s arms and their grip on her face. Finger impressions remained on her cheek and her hair was a mess, making the possessive Neanderthal howl in my guts. For once I used his rage, giving both young thugs my most impressive stare. They faded back to the wall along with Nervous Guy.
Cathy stepped forward tremulously. “Joe?” she questioned, her voice quavering slightly. She was clearly upset and trying her very best to keep it in.
“Grab their guns and get over here.” Cathy’s face blinked at my harsh tone. It wasn’t for her. I had to keep these guys on edge. Keep them as scared as I was. “Hurry.”
Cathy reached down hesitantly, her fingers visibly trembling as she retrieved the pistols. With her little heeled boots clicking across the wood with each stride she hurried across the room to stand behind me.
Relief flooded through me at that point, almost ruining everything as my knees trembled slightly requiring a firm stomp of each foot to settle them again. We weren’t clear yet, but things had suddenly become much more manageable. My heart still raced and my body still tingled all over, sending the hair on my arms reaching for the sky. But Cathy was safe behind me and the gang members were weaponless before me.
Time to get this over with.
Shawn groaned in agony again as I pulled upwards on his twisted arm.
“They dropped their guns! What do you want?”
I kept my voice as deep and as menacing as I possibly could, ignoring the growling sensation that began to rumble in my belly next to my dancing Neanderthal. Dammit, I can’t be hungry now! I used that grumbling and fed it to my voice.
“Why do you have pictures of the missing girls?”
“Ugh …”
“Why?” I rumbled, twisting again.
“They’re our girls!”
That wasn’t Shawn. It was Nervous Guy from back against the wall. The other boys inched away from him, clearly uncomfortable. His former gun toting partner gave Nervous Guy a filthy glower.
“What do you mean ‘our girls’?“ Cathy asked from beside me, her voice recovered and her confidence slowly coming back. Along with her investigative nature apparently. She gestured towards the punks with one arm, forgetting she was holding a gun. Everyone flinched at that.
“They’re ours.” He repeated. Motioning around him. “Our crew.” He looked around at the others in the room, the ones who would meet his gaze at any rate. “Our Posse.”
That sank in with me, resonated in my head. I could feel the old, rarely used hamster wheel beginning to turn in my skull as it processed that information. More questions from that answer.
Cathy beat me to it.
“You’re saying all of the missing women reported are Native Posse affiliated?” Her voice was surprised. And skeptical. “That doesn’t make any sense. There are dozens of names on that list, some of them aren’t even …” She stopped herself, an embarrassed look spreading across her face.
“Indians?” Shawn spat painfully, her wrist and arm still stuck in my vice grip and torqued unnaturally. “Is that the word you’re looking for you bitch-ahhh! Ahhh! Leggo, leggo!!”
I might’ve ratcheted up the pressure for a moment of sheer spite. I was tired of these guys and their treatment of Cathy.
She spared Shawn a disgusted look but nodded reluctantly. “Yes, it’s true. The women missing are from all walks of life and all age categories. Successful business types. Mothers. Asian, European and Aboriginal ancestries.” Cathy shook her head sadly, spreading her gun filled hands. “There’s been no discernible pattern. That’s been the frustrating part for the media and the police obviously.”
“We don’t give a shit about some white lady or chink ass bitches, all we care about is our own.” That was Keimac, recovered from his humiliation somewhat now that Shawn was being agonized. “We care about our own. Our family. The girls downstairs, they’re our family first.” His voice broke slightly at that.
Images of Candace flashed in my brain. At the club. On the wall downstairs. The paper’s picture of a body being hauled from the river.
Her features, they looked so much like her brothers.
Goddammit, what have I gotten myself into?
“So, what’s going on?” Cathy asked Keimac, though her eyes took in everyone in the filthy living space. No one met her eyes. Nervous Guy had said his peace apparently and Shawn was writhing in silent agony under my grip.
“As if you don’t know.” There, the second gunman. His face bitter, disgusted. Filled with undisguised hatred. He pointed a finger directly at me, his voice venomous. “This big prick works for those pigs. Setting our girls up as whores.”
Cathy turned to look at me slowly, her eyes questioning. “Joe?”
I said nothing, my mind whirling. A thousand different images flashing into my brain. Old memories suddenly tying together with new information to create a new picture. A pattern I hadn’t seen. One I had ignored. Maybe chosen not to see?
“Joe, do you know what he’s talking about?” Cathy asked, reporter voice in full inquisition mode. Dimples out again, but not in a happy way.
“He fucking knows!” Keimac spat, his face twisted. Tears of rage pooled in his eyes, trailing down in dirty tracks over his dream catcher tattoo.
“You’re lying,” I muttered. My brain rejecting what my guts were starting to tell me.
“Joe?”
“You’re lying!” I snapped, Posse members flinching back at my voice. Shawn cringing again as my grip spasmed. “You people, you street thugs set
some girls up as hookers or drug mules. Your own girls. Your sisters and your cousins. You whored them out on the streets, don’t deny it now buddy here all but admitted it a few minutes ago.” Keimac’s teeth snapped shut, swallowing his retort at my glare. Nervous Guy shuffled his feet, wishing for a hole to disappear into no doubt.
I glared around the whole room, including Cathy in my stare. Speaking to her as much as to the Posse members. “There’s a fucking trophy wall in the basement. Filled with pictures of missing girls, right out of some sick movie. Looking for all the world like a history of your victims … And you want to accuse me? My club?”
Was I in denial? Maybe. But I needed more.
It dawned on me in that moment. This is why I was here.
“My sister wasn’t a hooker, we got other bitches for that!” Keimac’s face was a mess, twisted. Actually thinking he was being coherent. A sad statement of affairs in this world where people could see people in different categories other than “people.”
“Everyone knows them cops’re evil,” the gunman continued, his expression sour. “Taking advantage of people on the streets who got nothing. Who done nothing wrong.”
“All high and mighty, setting up that club. Poaching our girls. Promising them gifts. Money. Luring rich folks to party, giving them our women to fuck. To abuse ‘em.” Keimac spat at me.
“And toss ‘em aside when they’re done.” The gunman’s eyes were afire. “Like garbage.”
They believed what they were saying.
Absolutely.
Shit.
Cathy stared at me, her expression unreadable.
My stomach rumbled, but not just in hunger anymore.
In disgust.
I made my decision.
“We’re leaving.” My voice remained low, deep and menacing. The flood of energy I was feeling remained strong but I could sense it starting to fade. Despite the anger and rage I felt, I knew that I was going to need to refuel with food soon. The gym had taken more out of me than I had planned and I was starting to ache all over.
“I’m gonna kill you, you get that?” Keimac’s eyes bored into me, his hands twitching. As if my neck was between them. “For my sister. For what you did.”
I stared him down, my mind a whirl of emotions. Flashes in my head. Memories. Pieces sliding together. My brain on fire as my flesh tingled all over.
“You tried that once,” I told him quietly. Decisivly. “Don’t try it again.”
Keimac’s red rimmed eyes bored a hole to the back of my head. “You killed my sister!” he spat, flecks literally spraying from his lips.
That felt like a kick to the balls.
I wasn’t sure he was wrong.
With a last wrench I released Shawn’s wrist and shoved him hard to the floor where he collapsed with a loud thudding sound. I’d probably killed this guy too, or at least his chance at keeping a leadership role within the Native Posse; which likely amounted to the same thing in their world. But I couldn’t worry about that. My priority was getting Cathy out safely.
The remaining five men stared at me as I stood over their former front man. Full on alpha male, jungle book style domination was what I was going for. By and large it was working. With a gentle hand I took Cathy’s arm and directed her to the door. She went along with the motion her eyes still unreadable, and searching constantly around the room. Her acquired pistols clutched tightly in each hand.
I stared down each person in that room, using my most vicious glower. Nervous Guy and the two kids wouldn’t meet my eyes. The second gunman stared at me defiantly but unarmed wasn’t about to make a move. Shawn just lay on the floor holding his damaged hand tight to his chest.
I turned on my heel and headed for the door.
On my way out I stopped in front of Keimac, looking at him sideways over my shoulder. I took in his expression of hatred. His absolute belief in how he understood the situation.
Belief is a dangerous thing.
Tears flowed down his young face. Rage. Sorrow. A lost soul dealt a shit hand in life like the rest of these people now facing even more tragedy.
“Kill you.” He whispered, his voice broken. “I’ll kill you.”
It broke my heart. An emotion I never thought I’d feel for the man who fired three slugs into my chest.
I turned and walked out the door, my knees trembling the whole way back to the Windstar.
Chapter 33
We drove in silence.
My mind was whirling and my limbs still trembled slightly, the adrenaline crash hitting me like a wave. It took everything I had to concentrate on driving safely, piloting my rusty baby the easy way back to the TV station down Main Street. My heart was beating way too fast, keeping pace with the thoughts in my head.
Cathy sat next to me in the passenger seat. Silent. Stoic. Rubbing at her face and neck where she’d been gripped. My guts twisted as she did that, that over-protective part of me furious with myself for letting her come with me in the first place.
Images rushed through my brain. The faces on the wall. Matching them up to girls I’d seen at Cowboy Shotz. Not all of them were a match, but Candace and that other one – Sherilyn - for certain. Possibly two more. My brain felt like it was sparkling with energy as I scoured over my thoughts, trying to make sense of what had happened tonight.
And trying to come to terms with how badly things had nearly gone.
God … Mom. I almost left you all alone again.
I shook my head, clearing the images as best I could. Needing to focus on the road and ignore the gnawing hunger growing in my belly.
“How could you do this, Joe?”
I froze at her tone. Guilt hammered at me like a linebacker.
“What?”
“How,” Cathy repeated. Her tone cold and angry. “How could you do this?”
Guilt hammered at me harder with each syllable she spoke.
“I’m sorry, Cathy.”
“You’re sorry?” Her voice was deadly quiet. “Is that supposed to make it better?”
My guts twisted again, reacting from the second verbal kick to the balls I’d taken in under an hour.
I couldn’t meet her stare.
“I ...” Where are the words, smart guy? Usually you’ve got a comeback for everything. “I didn’t want you to …” I trailed off.
“What?” Her voice hardened. “Didn’t want me to what?”
Jewish girls, they know from guilt trips.
“Didn’t want me to what? Find out about your dirty little secret? Is that it?”
Wait. What?
“Cathy? What’re you…”
Her fist hit me hard on the arm. Really hard, all knuckled up and digging into the spot beneath my bicep.
“Ow!”
“Don’t you cry out to me!” she hit me again, harder than before. Her voice firing up, getting very upset. “You and that club, luring in girls. Putting them to work! How dare you?’