RECYCLED MEMORY

by Richardson, SH

  After a few fortifying breaths, I spoke to them about my first run-in with Buck when I was twelve years old, and how I’d tried to save Marcus from his would-be cruelty. I entertained them with my favorite Buck-isms; his way of speaking that only someone as ill-tempered as him could pull off. He’d never called me by my name; I was “girl” or “woman” when he needed my attention, mostly to yell at me to get lost. The longer I spoke of the past, the easier it was for me to remember all the good times before Marcus went away. I found comfort in sharing the memory of that doomed day in history when Marcus and I broke up, and I was left alone and broken. I kept going and going and didn’t stop until I reached the present state of affairs, our uncertain reunion, and our fight for hope above all else.

  There wasn’t a dry eye left in the room.

  “I can’t believe they just cut you off like that without a fucking word,” Ashley sobbed.

  “There had to have been a reason why they did it,” Clover added through her tears. “I flat out refuse to believe that Range and the others would go along with something so evil.”

  “Yeah, totally dick move on all their parts. Makes me wanna bitch slap somebody.” Haven whimpered behind the stack of Kleenex in her hand.

  “The fuck is going on?”

  We were so lost in our heads we hadn’t noticed when Mace returned from checking the outside. His face contorted into a mask of anger, then softened into disbelief before he stood expectantly and waited for an answer. Ashley broke it to him gently as only she could.

  “This is what happens when we can’t talk about your dick, Fox. This is all your fault!” She pointed a finger at a disgruntled Mace.

  “I’m giving y’all five minutes to pull your shit together.” He speared us with a glance. “Dry that shit up and act like you got some goddamned sense around here before I spank your asses and send you all to bed,” he ordered. Completely serious.

  Levity ensued.

  Mace walked out.

  And the tears finally stopped flowing.

  FORTY-TWO

  Marcus

  DEAD MAN.

  I was looking at a motherfuckin’ dead man.

  If it wasn’t by my hands, Range was two steps behind me with ice water flowing through his veins. The number-one unwritten rule amongst men was that you never involved someone’s woman as a means of payback; they were protected, made to feel safe. The very mention of our women, implied or direct, dishonored his entire clan and made him unworthy of respect in matters of contract. What should have been a simple transaction turned into a case of my dick is bigger than yours. The mob version. I was onto his bullshit. He was trying to make a statement, appear ruthless in a world his daddy created without putting in any of his own work. He was the youngest in his family, last in line and void of any real power amongst the ranks. A token boss running a pussy-ass underground fight club. He’d never had a man like Buck Calhoun on his ass to teach him how to survive, how to earn a man’s respect. He thought he could take it.

  That shit wasn’t happening.

  MacCabe ignored the guns pointed at his head while he casually strode over to one of the dark leather hotel couches and took a seat. His unhurried gait pissed me way the fuck off, as if he had all the time in the world to fuck with us. It would be so easy; all it would take was a gentle squeeze of the trigger, and I could hit that fool before he took the next sip of his drink. Splatter his brains on the wall behind his head while I sat back and watched the pretty colors as they oozed down the paint. The acrid taste of death burned the back of my throat, a constant reminder of all the lives I’d taken and my willingness to add one more to my list of casualties. Alone, and he’d be a memory. With my brothers at my six, I had to think of their lives first. I had to play nice for the time being or risk the possibility of one of them getting hurt. Not on my watch.

  “Can I offer you gentlemen a shot of Jameson?” He waived his glass around. “Something to eat perhaps before we get down to business?”

  “WE no longer have any business, MacCabe. You got your fucking money. Now, take it and shove it up your asshole all the way back to Boston. Fucker,” I argued.

  “On the contrary, Mecken,” he weasel-worded. “I appreciate the expedience in which you paid back your girlfriend’s debt to my organization. I wish all my patrons were as thoughtful in matters of obligation. It’s a good thing Calhoun didn’t squander his ill-gotten gains from his early days, or this could have turned out much differently.”

  He wore a smile in his face that matched his relaxed demeanor, like an old friend you run into on the street and they inquired as to your health. Everything about him chafed the underside of my cock, and I fought against the urge to kick that glass from his hand and smash his pretty face in with the butt of my gun. My lip twitched with unrestrained rage at having to listen to any more of his babbling bullshit. We weren’t old chums having a drink at a bar, shooting the shit over how many bitches we’d fucked in our lifetime. The second he mentioned Buck’s name, I felt my resolve slip and forgot about the whole playing nice routine.

  I advanced.

  One step toward that cunt cake MacCabe with the clear intent to beat his motherfuckin’ ass to a bloody pulp, he cut me off at the knees and knocked the air from my lungs.

  “A high-profile Japanese client scheduled an exclusive bare-knuckle match for tomorrow night. No other guests invited, a private affair with a two-million-dollar buy-in. My fighter has been recently incapacitated by a bullet, thanks to a certain ex-Marine.” He looked right at me and dropped the hammer. “You’re going to take his place.”

  “The hell you say,” Range fired back with a strong hold on my upper arm. “Fuck that fake-ass wannabe pussy. Let’s get the hell gone, brother.”

  We ambled toward the hotel door, two by two cover, until MacCabe decided to throw all his cards on the table at once.

  “That’s too bad, Marcus,” he shouted from the couch. “Otelia Mae will be so disappointed you made that choice. Her beautiful, flawless skin will never hold up under the blaze of the South American sunlight.” In a blur, I rushed him.

  “Where the fuck is she?” My hands were around his throat, squeezing the life from his eyes.

  “Mem, STOP!” Range pulled me back before I could finish the job. Lucky motherfucker.

  “Calm, brother. Calm your shit down. We need him alive,” he coaxed.

  MacCabe’s face was bright red with tears streaming down his cheeks from the lack of oxygen. Max and Sebastian circled around me, posting a perimeter between me and the soon-to-be dead mob boss. I could take them all on if I wanted. The last time the four of us decided to test the weight of our ball sacks, Buck had to intervene with an upper cut to my ribs to get us to stop. Couldn’t remember much after that ‘cause I’d been on my ass, but I was willing to give it another shot. For old times’ sake. I struggled against Range’s tight hold long enough for MacCabe to catch his breath and straighten out his freshly pressed suit.

  “Touch me again, and I promise you, little Ms. Otelia will be on the first cargo ship smoking, bound for sale to an Argentinian brothel before morning,” MacCabe warned.

  He walked over to the desk holding the laptop and spun the screen around. Video surveillance showed Odie sitting on a bed in a darkened room, her face blotchy with tears, but otherwise unharmed. There was a tray of food and water on a nearby table, which meant for the time being she was being cared for. The threat of that changing unless I complied was more than enough to give MacCabe the advantage. Fucker had me by the balls; he knew full well I wouldn’t risk the life of an innocent woman.

  “As you can see she’s undamaged. For now.” He smirked. “Whether or not she remains that way is completely up to you. I suggest you rethink your previous position, my hotheaded friend.”

  “State your terms, fuckhead,” I snarled sharply through gritted teeth.

  “Your opponent is the underground bare-knuckle champion from Tokyo named Akiko Tanaka. Here’s his dossier.” He reached inside
the drawer and threw a large manila envelope across the table. “Read through it carefully, Mecken. He’s undefeated, well trained, and responsible for two bodies in the circuit. Location is an abandoned warehouse on Fifth Avenue—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “We do this, we do it my way. Buck’s Junkyard, eight o’clock sharp, rear entrance.”

  “No fucking way, Mem,” Sebastian seethed. “You can’t be serious. It’s too dangerous.” I ignored his pleas and continued. Now wasn’t the time.

  “One fight, and no harm comes to Otelia. Renege on the deal, and so help me, I. Will. Kill. You.”

  “No need for threats, Mecken—” He tried to flex.

  I wasn’t done.

  “You’ll rest easy knowing that your entire family will soon follow in your footsteps, MacCabe. I won’t stop until I wipe every single one of you motherfuckers from the face of the earth; but it won’t end there,” I leered in his direction, and it felt good. Too good. I couldn’t stop the depraved smile that spread across my face. “The last words you’ll hear before I slit your throat will be the exact location to the unmarked grave I dug out personally for your entire fuckin’ bloodline.” I leaned in and whispered, “It’ll just be our little secret, cocksucker. You feel me?”

  He considered my words before he decided to run his mouth again. He appeared to reach an understanding; the stakes were as high for him as they were for me.

  “Tomorrow night, eight o’clock. I’ll bring the girl,” MacCabe agreed.

  “Fabulous.” We turned to leave. Business concluded.

  “And Mecken… Give my regards to Ms. Laine.”

  _______________

  The mood inside the cabin of Range’s truck was ice cold on our ride back to the junkyard. There was so much tension pouring off my brothers, it bounced off the dark-tinted windows and smacked me square in the face. They were worried I’d made the wrong choice, angry that I hadn’t included them in that choice, and pensive once they realized there were no other alternatives. I’d bet money they were racking their brains running through different scenarios trying to come up with a way out of this mess. I loved them all with every fiber of my being, but this was one fight I’d have to finish on my own.

  “We’ll need Fox to take the women up to Buck’s cabin for the night. Don’t want them anywhere near the yard when this shit goes down,” I spoke aloud, interrupting the somber climate.

  “Don’t like it,” Range growled. “It’s not the way we operate, Mem. No plan, no fucking intel, last-minute throw-down without training. It’s a shit show, brother. Buck raised us better than that, and you damn well know it. Who’s to say that prick won’t back out of the deal once you whoop that motherfucker’s ass?”

  “Meant what I said inside that hotel room, Range. I’m not the only one with something to lose if MacCabe goes pussy on the arrangement. He has his own family to think about. Besides, got no choice if we want to save the girl.”

  “Still, it’s a risk. Too much could go wrong if we don’t cover our asses,” Max asserted.

  “Agreed. Let’s just be sure our shit is locked tight before tomorrow night. We’ll deal with the women once we get back to the yard. In the morning, we lay it all out,” I briefed.

  There was a round of grunts and head nods, but Sebastian was noticeably quiet during the exchange. I wasn’t surprised by his silence; he’d always processed ideas and conflicts differently, even back when we were kids. Sebastian led with is heart when the rest of us relied on our dicks to get us out of trouble. I turned to catch his profile as he sat in the back seat, death grip on the handle of his bow. It wasn’t the first time we’d found ourselves the underdog, but this time hit him hard. I wanted to tell him not to worry, that everything would be alright, but the words died in the back of my throat the moment I watched a lone tear slide down his cheek unbridled. I felt his anguish in the pit of my gut, and I welcomed the burn.

  I’d use it as the motivation I needed to win this war.

  FORTY-THREE

  Maribel

  THE SCENERY PASSED BY in one big, giant blur. Sure, my eyes were open, but I couldn’t see a goddamned thing. Not really. I caught glimpses of remarkable oak trees, pink blooming shrubs, and the frightened retreat of forest animals as they rushed away from the open edge of the road.I sat stoically numb, squished between one of Mace’s tattooed hotties and Ashley’s overnight bag that was too big to fit in the trunk. Mace had threatened to throw her and that fucking bag on the side of the road if she didn’t get rid of it. After a long and tiresome battle, I’d volunteered to babysit the thing in order to keep the peace. Now I wished I’d taken him up on his offer. The girl had packed as though we were going to be gone for a year instead of twenty-four hours. Stupid bag.

  We were on our way to the mountains, hustled far off in a large black chariot disguised as a Chevy Tahoe to a destination unknown. Our unexpected road trip had started a little before noon. It took that long for Sebastian to get Ashley to let go of the door handle to his sports car and get inside the truck. She wasn’t the only one who’d fought tooth and nail against this ridiculous idea. Clover, Haven, and I had been right there with her until the men had enough of our bitching and put their foot down. So, there we were. Stuck in a vehicle and ordered to comply. The last place any of us wanted to be.

  How in the actual fuck did we get here?

  By the time the guys had arrived back at the junkyard the night before, we’d pretty much exhausted all topics relevant to the female persuasion. Poor Mace had had to suffer a little longer through talks of period cramps, masturbation techniques, and—my favorite—home remedies for the occasional yeast infection. Served the bastard right for acting so smug during the tits-and-ass segment. Bet he wished we were still interested in discussing his sacred penis and pipe-laying skills. The minute Marcus walked through the door ahead of everyone else, Mace nearly broke his neck trying to escape us. Four manly pounds on the back followed by hushed words and the sexy tit-loving gum drop was gone like the wind.

  The girls and I shared a chuckle at his hasty escape, until the guys entered the room carrying matching looks of desolation. Clover rushed over to Range and silently embraced him around the waist in comfort. His shoulders slumped with relief when she made contact, his hulking body deflated with the full brunt of his weight, nearly folding her in half. How she managed to remain upright I’d never know, but she ushered him off toward their bedroom without even saying goodbye. Sebastian signaled for Ashley to follow him out to his car. I expected to hear a smart-assed wise crack from her about his bossiness, but she left without any of her normal hoopla. Haven and I shared a knowing look before she ambled over to Max and led him away as well. The men needed their women tonight. Whatever happened while they were gone was heavy, and for the first time I wished Buck were still alive to guide them.

  Left alone with Marcus, I had no idea what I was supposed to say or do in this situation. In the distant past, we’d find ourselves locked away at the cabin, moaning about school work, Principal Garvey, and other mundane topics typical of high school life. Things had been simpler then, easier to compartmentalize. We blew all of it off as bullshit and laughed at how silly it was to worry about such things, when in reality, they really didn’t matter. There wasn’t a damn thing funny about what was happening with the Boston mob. One look at the guys, and it was pretty clear that something had gone terribly wrong with the drop and the nightmare was far from over. Grown men business that wouldn’t be eased with silly school girl anecdotes. I needed to be as strong as the other women had been where their men were concerned.

  We weren’t in Kansas anymore.

  Marcus wordlessly reached out a hand and motioned for me to follow him down a hidden hallway, which led to a set of stairs. I had no idea that it even existed before tonight or its importance to the tough guy leading the way. Things became clearer once we reached the top and entered a doorway to a private loft. The view was amazing. Breathtaking. Open floor plan, modern décor, and a custom ce
iling with domed skylights encased in nothing but glass. Someone had put their heart and soul into this room, which made me curious as to why we were there.

  “Wow, Marcus.” I stood in awed silence. “What is this place?”

  “Haven’t been back in here since I came home from active duty. Didn’t want them to see me that way, that person I’d become,” he stammered.

  “Didn’t want who to see you what way, Marcus? I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “Buck gave me this space when I moved in after Nan died, said I needed to be reminded of her kind heart and how she, along with my parents, was smiling down on me from heaven. He never wanted me to forget where I came from or how much they’d loved me even though they were gone.”

  “Wow.” I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Buck really was one of a kind.”

  Marcus didn’t share any more about the significance of this room, and I didn’t feel the need to pressure him. I took a seat on the edge of the king-sized bed that was freshly made and watched as Marcus struggled to maintain his composure. I waited for him to open up to me, to let me in on what happened with his meeting with MacCabe, but that wasn’t what he had on his mind. He stood over by the floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a view of the entire junkyard. His back was turned as he spoke.

  “What’s the real reason why you decided not to go to Harvard, Maribel? I’m sure you still had your chance once you were released from the hospital, so why didn’t you go?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about—” I tried to wiggle out of answering, but Marcus wasn’t the type to take no for an answer.

  “Please, Pocket. I really need to know. Tell me the rest of your truth.”

  Marcus finally turned around. His earnest eyes convinced me it was safe to tell him the tragic circumstances that had prevented me from attending medical school. I had to trust that no matter what, he wouldn’t feel guilty about his part in what had happened, and in return, decide to leave me again. My final truth was the only way to be sure that he would join me in the fight for hope.