by Zoey Parker
Mortar takes a step forward. “Leave now or I’ll put a blade in your stomach right here, Grady,” he threatens.
Grady holds up his hands in mock terror. “Go for it. But you won’t, because that’d be the dumbest thing you could ever do. Not even an idiot crook like you would knife a police officer in public. Besides, the backstabbing bitch behind you ain’t worth the jail sentence.”
Mortar growls, “You’re the only crook here.”
He cackles again, leaning over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes. “You’re killing me. I’m the one with the badge, ain’t I? I don’t see you wearing a uniform! Damn, you Angels really are some kind of stupid.”
I see Vince pull up in front with the car. Mortar hisses to me over his shoulder, “Go get in the car, Kendra.”
Too on edge to do anything but obey, I begin to edge down the stairs, taking a wide berth around Grady. But as I reach the step he’s on, he starts to lurch in my direction. I freeze. Mortar leaps between us. The two men are squared off in front of each other, just a foot apart. “Kendra,” Mortar repeats, “get in the car.”
“No need to hurry,” Grady says. He leans back and all of the sudden he’s at ease again, like he never had an outburst. I’m terrified. He’s clearly unstable and under the influence of something; alcohol, drugs, hatred, I can’t be sure. But there’s no telling what he’ll do. “I’m on my way out, anyhow. Just wanted to stop in and wish you and this whore a lifetime of happiness, for as long as that lifetime will last, whether it’s years or maybe just a couple days.” He bares his teeth in a nasty, yellow grin, then starts whistling as he turns and walks down the road, twirling his baton merrily.
Mortar lets out a long, slow breath. His shoulders droop as the tension eases, but I can tell that he is still on edge.
I’m shaken beyond belief. It wasn’t just him being here and ruining the delirious high of Mortar and I getting married. It was more that he’d looked so lost, so dangerous. A man with wild eyes like that wasn’t playing by the rules anymore. Not that he ever really had, but this was more than just a loose cannon. This was a murderer with nothing left to care about.
And he was coming for me.
Chapter 10
Mortar
How dare that motherfucker.
Walking up to my wife on her wedding day and saying what he’d said? Calling her a whore? Threatening her?
I’ve killed men for less, much less, and I already don’t need more incentive to gut the fucking bastard and put his head on a pole so the world can see loud and clear that Mortar Matthews is not to be fucked with.
I’m seeing red as Grady disappears in the distance, whistling like a lunatic. He’s the one with the death wish, coming up to us like this. I don’t take kindly to threats to my own being. But when you threaten my wife, my woman, the mother of my children, then you are unleashing a storm that no one on this planet is capable of handling.
I whip out my cell phone. “Steezy,” I say into the receiver as soon as he picks up. “Gather all the boys. We’ve got a job to do.”
I send Kendra home with Vince and tell him to keep a close eye on her. I don’t trust Grady to stay far away. Vince can handle anything that cocksucker throws at him. She protests, but I’m too angry to even listen to what she’s saying. I pack her in the car and they zoom off.
“How dare he,” I mutter to myself over and over. I’m flexing my fists, squeezing, picturing them pummeling into Grady’s smug face endlessly, until there’s nothing but flesh-colored jelly where that disgusting smile once was. No one on this planet says things like that to someone I care about. Not while I’m alive to do something about it.
I hear the distant thunder of motorcycle engines and I smile.
The boys are here.
They come roaring up, tires screeching across the asphalt and curlicues of smoke drifting into the air. I take a deep inhale—burnt rubber never smelled so good. It’s like I’m back at the races. This is my element. I’m king here. Nobody fucks with the king.
Steezy sidles up as the rest of the men fall in behind him. “Came as quick as we could, bossman,” he grins. “What’s on the agenda?”
I almost want to laugh. This happy, goofy motherfucker, equally as ready to throw back beers as he is to take revenge on a crooked cop. I love it.
I tell them the plan. “Any questions?” Nobody says a word. “Let’s go, then.” One of the prospects gives me his bike and everybody splits up in different directions to comb the city for the first sign of Grady.
“I’m coming for you, you son of a bitch,” I whisper to myself. The salty air is whipping past my face. I’m running on pure adrenaline, faster and more potent than the nitrous oxide in the racers’ engines. There’s no better high than this.
Men like me have boundaries. Men who cross them get hurt.
* * *
It’s only been fifteen minutes, but I’m on the verge of getting agitated. I’m peeling around every corner, gunning the engine and pushing the bike to its limits. Where’d that bastard go? There’s no way he’s hiding. He’s either too ballsy or too off his fucking rocker to just disappear. No, I’m betting good money that he’s right out in the open, daring me to do something to him.
He should’ve known better.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull over to the side of the road.
It’s a text from Vince. Found his patrol car. O’Neil’s Bar. On the pier.
I spit on the sidewalk, then rev the bike and take off at top speed. It’s a short distance to the boardwalk, only six or seven blocks. I weave through traffic, whipping around every corner like I’m headed for the finish line.
When I pull up, most of the boys are already there. We huddle up in a back alley a block away from the pier. Bending my head around the corner, I can see the cop car parked out front, shiny and pristine. I bet the bastard takes real good care of it. Probably waxes and washes the damn thing himself. It’s gleaming in the Texas sun.
I survey the scene and an idea strikes me. “Come here, boys,” I say, gesturing for everyone to listen. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
I lead the way out of the alley. The pier is empty despite the nice weather. Through the window of O’Neil’s, I see only a few people inside. I can spy Grady with his fat back turned to us. He won’t see what’s happening until it’s too late.
Two prospects spread to either end of the street to act as lookouts. The rest of us surround the patrol car while Steezy slips a long, thin piece of metal from his boot. Jimmying it into the crack in the driver’s side window, he pops the lock loose. The door swings open on silent hinges. He hops in to release the emergency break, then emerges with a wild grin. “Ready?” he asks me.
“One second,” I say. I saunter up to the big window of the bar. My reflection is sharp and clear. I’m still wearing the suit I was just married in. The image makes me laugh. This life I’ve chosen is around the clock. There’s no vacation, no days off. It may be my wedding day, but there’s business to take care of. Serious business.
I rap on the window loudly. Everyone in the bar turns around. Grady recognizes me and his eyes bulge. I give him a shit-eating grin that would put Steezy’s to shame as I point towards the police vehicle. He follows my gaze and sees what’s happening: a dozen men pushing the car out of its parking space. It rolls, slowly at first, then gains speed as it heads towards the opposite wall of the pier. His jaw drops. Faster and faster the car goes, until it’s flying on its own accord. The men stop pushing and step away as the out of control vehicle smashes through the flimsy wooden barrier and soars for the briefest of moments before plummeting into the ocean below.
In the bar, Grady’s beer falls from his hand.
The car hits the surface of the ocean with a gigantic splash. It starts to sink as it fills with water, quickly disappearing under the waves.
I raise a middle finger to the glass. “Fuck you, pig,” I mouth. He’s too stunned to move. He didn’t expect this. He didn’t know wha
t he was getting into when he called my wife a whore. Well, now he knows.
This is my world. Down here, we play by my rules.
* * *
When I get back home, Kendra is agitated. She flies into me the second I step through the door, hitting my chest with a thump and almost knocking me off my feet.
“You’re safe, oh my God, you’re safe,” she babbles. She’s clinging around my neck. I peel her hands off me and hold her at arms’ length.
“Of course I’m safe,” I tell her.
“I didn’t know where you went or what you were doing. How could you just send me off like that?” Now she’s angry. She thwacks me in the chest with a tiny fist. She’s a mess: make-up smudged down her face, hair tangled, dress askew. Her eyes are bloodshot like she’s been crying.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I say. I mean it, too. I don’t want to keep her in the dark on anything, but I don’t think she’s ready yet for the full extent of what this life will mean. This was just a little piece of revenge, merely letting Grady know I won’t take his shit lying down. It was a reset of the game in my favor. Still, I can’t imagine that Kendra will just accept that.
“What happened? Where did you go?” she asks. I see Vince standing by the couch, looking uncomfortable.
“Thanks for keeping her safe, Vin,” I say. “You’re good to go.”
He bows his head sheepishly and walks out. Marital disputes aren’t exactly his forte. Not mine, either, but I got myself into this situation, so I’ll just have to figure out how this domestic shit works.
“Answer me!” Kendra fires off as soon as Vince is gone. “What did you do?”
I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. I take a big gulp and say, “We pushed his patrol car off the pier.”
Her reaction is priceless. She freezes and her mouth hangs open. All the frustration and worried anger from a moment ago is gone, replaced by sheer, dumbfounded shock. She stutters like a broken machine. “You, you…you what?”
“We found his car parked out front of a bar on the pier. We popped the emergency break and pushed it over the edge. Hit the water and sank like a rock. Or like a car, I guess, if you want to be literal about it.”
It’s hard to tell if she wants to laugh or hit me again. I smile. Shit’s funny, after all. Kendra collapses into a stool at the counter, shaking her head.
“He spent more time with that car than he did with me when we were together,” she says after a while.
“Well, if you love something, let it go, right?”
Even she has to chuckle at that.
“I can’t believe you…” she trails off. “He’s going to kill you, you know.”
I shake my head. “I don’t give a damn, Kendra. Nobody says the things he said to my family. Not even a cop.” I reach across the countertop and brush the dark trail of make-up from under her eyes. “You’re too beautiful to have such an important day ruined like that.”
She kisses the heel of my hand where it is cupping her face. “I’m worried for you,” she says. “For us.”
I stare straight into her eyes, mustering all the fire I can. “The only one who should be worried is Grady. I’m not finished with him yet.”
She nods and grabs my hand with her own. There’s nothing much else to say.
I think back to Croak’s warning to pay Grady and leave him alone. The time for that is past. There’s no making peace with him, not after today. He’s done too much, gotten too close. I’m not about to shove more cash down his throat like I’m his bitch. No, Croak, I won’t be following your instructions this time. It’s time for me to take this shit into my own hands. Today was a start, but there’s more to come. I won’t stand for seeing my wife cry like this.
We have a quiet evening of dinner at home and some television show that neither of us cares about. It’s enough to just sit close and not say anything. All I need is to feel her thin fingers wound between mine.
She falls asleep halfway through the show with her head on my lap. I look down to see her eyes closed and her chest easing up and down. Looking a little farther, I see the hint of a mound blooming in her belly. My child.
“Let’s go to bed, babe,” I murmur. She stirs slightly, awake enough to wrap her arms around my neck as I pick her up. I forget sometimes how light she is, how fragile, so easy to keep close and treasure.
I click the lights off on our way into bed. Pulling back the covers, I lay her gently on the mattress before crawling in next to her. I want her as badly as ever, but right now doesn’t seem like the time. For the moment, all I need is to feel her breath and her pulse, to know that she’s alive and here and mine.
I tug her small frame into mine and kiss her temple before we drift off.
* * *
I wake up to the dull glow of late morning seeping through the window panes. Kendra is still snoozing, eyes closed peacefully. I’m careful not to wake her as I slip out of bed and rinse off in the shower. I have a meeting at the clubhouse first thing, so I figure I’ll let her sleep until I get back.
I take one last look at her before I leave the room. She’s curled in a tight little ball. Something in my gut surges up. It’s a weird feeling, not one I ever experienced before I met Kendra. I don’t know what to call it or how to express it. All I know is that if anyone ever touches her, I’ll kill them without a second’s hesitation.
I ride my bike to the clubhouse. The roads are mostly empty and quiet on my way there. A few families, dog walkers, that kind of thing, but for the most part I don’t encounter anyone as I drive in.
That is until I round the last corner before the Inked Angels headquarters and notice blue and red lights bathing the walls of the building. Shouts and the harsh thwack of a nightstick on flesh ring out. I fly into the courtyard and see a gang of cops swinging fists, boots, and batons at a huddled figure on the ground.
It’s Croak.
He’s stopped fighting back, too outnumbered to even begin to defend himself. I see another ten or twelve cops pointing guns in the faces of the rest of the stunned Angels ringing the yard. They can’t move to help their president, as bad as they might desire to punch a cop in the face.
I start to run in, consequences be damned. but Vince throws a hand across my chest before I can even get close.
“Don’t,” he whispers. “They’ll shoot you without blinking.”
I’m furious. I don’t give a fuck if Croak and I have been on good terms lately or not. At the end of the day, he’s still my brother and my leader, and there’s no one in this world who has the right to hit him and get away with it.
But Vince is right. Charging in blindly would only earn me a state-sanctioned bullet in the skull. That won’t help anyone. I swallow my anger and sit back.
I hear bone crunch as a tall cop brings his nightstick down hard from overhead to smash Croak’s outspread fingers. Blood is dripping down his knuckles. He can’t help but cry out in pain.
Soon, the beating subsides. Two cops wrestle Croak into handcuffs and drag his limp frame into a waiting vehicle. They toss him in the back and slam the door shut.
I see a sickeningly familiar figure leaning against the hood of one of the police cars encircling the property. Grady is looking like the cat that ate the canary. I’ve never seen a smugger bastard in all my life. My stomach curdles on sight.
He strolls towards the center of the circle. I notice that his uniform is clean now, not the filthy, raggedy mess he’d had on outside the courthouse yesterday. The hollow glare of his deadened eyes is brighter, too. He looks sharp. Dangerous. Deadly, even.
He addresses the whole club in a booming voice. “Gentlemen, I’m giving you fair warning right now. Keep your heads in the sand. Better yet, get the fuck out of town. If I or any of my men see one of you dirty cocksuckers roaming the streets, you’ll get booked and thrown into jail quicker than you can say, ‘But Officer, I wasn’t doing anything.’ I’m telling you, do. Not. Fuck with me.” He spits onto the yard, then turns and head
s back to his car. The cops holding guns in our faces back out slowly, pistols raised until the last one of them has exited the property.
The police officers roar away, taking Croak with them, leaving a crowd of stunned and silent Angels in their wake.
Everyone is looking around at each other, not sure what to do or who to follow. I see Vince, eyes wide open. Steezy, Boulder, all of them—lost, confused, threatened. No one knows what to do.
There’s only me.
“Inside, now. Everyone,” I say, springing into action. We have to move quickly. There’s no way to know what Grady’s planning next. The men follow my lead as I march into the clubhouse, trailing behind like a herd of mute lemmings.
We take seats in the bar. The silence is thick enough to stop a bullet. The fear is palpable.