UNDERTAKER

by Nicole James

  Joker ran a hand down his face, his eyes going to the stairs, and Undertaker frowned. “There a problem with that? She too much for you to handle, kid?”

  “No, not at all. She’s just… got some problems. Not sure how I’m supposed to handle those. Especially…”

  “Especially what?”

  “I mean, the way she feels about you. I’m guessing she’s not gonna be too happy about this.”

  “She’ll be fine. I’m trusting you to make sure of it. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Undertaker nodded. “Good.”

  “How long?”

  “As long as needed. Until I tell you different. Oh, and one more thing. Hands off, you understand, Joker?”

  “Hands off. Got it.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Delilah sat in a booth by the window, staring out at the overcast sky while the waitress poured coffee into her cup.

  “Sure you don’t want anything else, honey?”

  “No, thank you.” She turned and watched as the waitress walked away, then her eyes flicked to the man sitting across from her. He was tearing into his chicken fried steak like he hadn’t eaten in days. Her gaze moved over him. He’d lost a lot of weight in prison. She’d barely recognized him when he’d walked out of that place.

  He shoveled the food into his mouth, pausing only long enough to mutter, “Got another stop to make on the way home.”

  “I thought you were anxious to visit your mother’s—”

  He cut her off. “Been waitin’ sixteen years. It can wait another few hours.”

  She knew better than to argue with him. He’d been mean before he went into prison. Chances were he was even meaner now. She twirled the ring on her finger. She should have divorced him while he was on the inside, but she’d been too afraid to do it, afraid he’d have his younger brother come after her.

  So she’d stayed married to a man she couldn’t stand, but at least while he was incarcerated, she’d been able to live her life with relative freedom. And she’d gotten used to it. Now she didn’t know how she was going to go back to life being married to Ronnie.

  Ronnie and his brother, Donnie, had been the bullies of Ponchatoula High School, the terrors of Tangipahoa Parish. She wished every day that she’d never gotten mixed up with them all those years ago.

  “You get me one of them new cell phones?”

  She reached in her handbag and slid it across the table.

  He stared down at the thin smart phone. “Where are the buttons?”

  “Phones don’t have buttons anymore.” When Ronnie went into prison back in 2001, cell phones were still the size of bricks and weighed about as much. They did little more than make calls.

  “How does it work?”

  She attempted to give him a crash course, but he got frustrated and shoved it back at her, ordering, “Just get Donnie on it for me!”

  She did as she was told and held it out to him, then sipped her coffee and stared out the window. She could tell his eyes were on her, and it made her uncomfortable. She dreaded when they would finally be alone together, and he would want sex. She knew it would be rough and awful and something she would have to suffer through without complaint. Suddenly the long years ahead with this man weighed her down.

  “You get the address for me?” he growled into the phone with no preamble or salutation for the brother he hadn’t seen except for the rare prison visits.

  He snapped his fingers in her face, drawing her attention from the cars speeding past out on the highway. She turned to see him making the motion of writing. She reached into her bag and handed him a pen as he grabbed a paper napkin and scribbled down an address.

  “I’m going to the restroom,” she murmured as she slid from the booth. His eyes barely flicked up to her as she stood by the table, waiting for his nod of approval. She knew better than to do anything without permission. She’d learned that the hard way the first year they’d been married.

  She made her way through the diner to the ladies room. It was empty except for her. Slinging her bag on the counter, she studied her reflection. She looked thin and tired. Ronnie wasn’t the only one who had lost weight. She hadn’t been able to eat the last few weeks, worrying about this day when she’d have to pick him up from prison and her life would return to the hell it had been before.

  She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde ringlets. She’d changed her hairstyle many times over the years Ronnie was in prison, having only herself to please. And she liked the style. It made her feel younger than her thirty-nine years. Of course the first thing he’d said to her today was a crack about her looking like a tramp.

  She was far from a tramp. Maybe she had been in high school, but she’d worked hard over the years to make a life for herself. She’d earned her GED and then an associate’s degree, and now she was a dental hygienist. Maybe it wasn’t her dream job, but she made a decent living, and the hours were good.

  She wondered if Ronnie would make her quit her job. She remembered he always liked to have her under his thumb, cutting her off from everyone but him. The other option was he planned to sit on his ass and let her support him.

  Either way, she knew she wasn’t going to be happy.

  Maybe if she were lucky, Ronnie would do something to get himself sent back to prison, and this time perhaps his brother would get sent with him. Wouldn’t that solve all her problems?

  If only life ever worked out like that.

  She splashed some water on her face, touched up her lipstick quickly, and headed back out to the table, knowing better than to keep Ronnie waiting.

  Before she could slide back onto the red vinyl seat, he stood and passed her the check. “Go pay, I’ll wait for you by the car.”

  She dug in her purse for some cash and dropped a few dollars on the table for a tip, then headed to the register with the ticket.

  Ronnie grabbed a handful of mints from a bowl on the counter and walked past her and out the door. She followed him with her eyes as she handed the waitress her ticket and the bills to cover it.

  ***

  Two hours later, they were parked on a back road while Ronnie stared through a pair of binoculars he’d made her stop and buy. They were aimed toward a property surrounded by a tall privacy fence with woods on all sides.

  The engine hummed, and the AC kept her cool as she waited patiently. Finally, she had to ask. “What are we doing here?”

  “Just a little reconnaissance for some payback I owe someone.”

  “Payback? For what?”

  “For some shit that went down in prison. Been planning for a long time… a million ways to do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Make that bastard pay.”

  “Who?”

  “Just a guy I used to know. I’d love to see him go down in flames, and I wouldn’t think twice about lighting the match.”

  She really didn’t want to know any more details. The less she knew, the better. She only hoped she wouldn’t have to play a part in his plans, but in her heart she knew he intended to keep her close to his side. The only way that would change was if his brother, Donnie, came down to help him with whatever he had in mind.

  She tried to look on the bright side. If whatever he was planning was illegal, perhaps he’d be out of her hair sooner rather than later.

  Finally, he lowered the binoculars. “Okay. Let’s go see Mama.”

  ***

  They pulled into Ponchatoula Cemetery. She drove down the quiet narrow lane and parked under a shade tree. Climbing out of the car, she wordlessly led Ronnie to the spot where his mother had been laid to rest fifteen years ago while he’d been in prison.

  They’d picked up a bunch of colored daisies at a grocery store, and he now laid them against the headstone. Lorraine LaMonte, loving mother, it read. Hardly, Delilah thought. Not the woman she knew. There wasn’t a loving bone in that woman’s body. But nevertheless, her sons were devoted to her.

  Ronnie squatte
d down and brushed some leaves and pine needles from the headstone. “Sorry I wasn’t here for your funeral, Mama. But I want you to know I’m gonna make the man responsible for me missing it pay. He’s gonna pay dearly, Mama.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Saturday morning, Delilah was back in the car with Ronnie. This time they were parked at a gas station just off the long road that led down to that compound he’d been staking out the other day. He’d called his brother, and they sat waiting for him to show up.

  Delilah sipped on a Mountain Dew while Ronnie ate his way through a bag of sunflower seeds, spitting the shells into a Styrofoam cup. It was a disgusting habit, and she turned away to stare out the window.

  A sudden roar of engines had Ronnie straightening in his seat and peering out the windshield. She followed his gaze to see a line of motorcycles coming up the road from the direction of the compound.

  “Son of a bitch,” he growled throwing the cup out the window. “Get Donnie on the phone!”

  She dug in her purse, hurrying to comply, her eyes on the loud machines that rolled up at the light. As she put the phone to her ear, she noticed Ronnie slump down in his seat.

  “He’s not answering. It went to voicemail,” she whispered, slumping in her own seat.

  The light changed, and the line of bikes roared away.

  “Never mind,” he snapped as his hand reached for the ignition.

  Oh God, was he going to follow those bikers?

  Ronnie shifted the car into gear and turned out into traffic, following at a distance.

  “What are we doing?” she asked in a panic.

  “Shut up!” he snarled. “Just keep trying Donnie.”

  Delilah did as she was told while they followed the motorcycles across town, eventually watching them turn one after another into the parking lot of an old building. Ronnie drove on past to stop a block down, where he pulled to the side of the road behind a parked van.

  He glanced around the area, noted the street sign and growled, “Third Avenue and McDowell. Write that down.”

  She tapped the note into her phone.

  He dug out the binoculars and focused in on a wooden sign in the yard. “Future home of New Horizons, help for victims of domestic abuse.”

  “Why would they go there?” Delilah whispered.

  “What a load of crap,” Ronnie muttered half to himself, but he kept his eyes on the bunch of riders as they dismounted and the women who came out of the building to greet them. His tone changed as he watched. “Now, this could be useful.”

  ***

  Undertaker met AJ halfway across the lot where she stood with a couple other women. With the seven men he’d brought with him at his back, he grinned and took a deep bow. “At your service, m’ladies.”

  AJ let out a bubbly laugh that brightened his day just by the sound of it.

  She did a curtsy, holding out an imaginary skirt. “Kind sirs.”

  “You two start talking like Shakespeare and I’m out of here,” Blood muttered.

  Undertaker turned to him. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Son. You and Sandman get started on replacing the broken glass. Easy, you and So-Cal take the painting. Wicked and Joker, you’re on lot cleanup.”

  “And me?” Mooch asked.

  “You’re on grill duty.” Undertaker lifted his chin toward the grill that was loaded in the back of the pickup one of the prospects drove onto the lot. Then he turned back to the men. “No one eats until all the work is done. You got that?”

  There was grumbling, but they all nodded.

  AJ smiled and introduced her crew of ladies. “This is Sharon and Diane. They work at New Horizons. And the one giving you the evil eye is my best friend, Bella.”

  Undertaker’s eyes swept over the bunch. “Ladies.”

  “Thank you for coming,” AJ said, grinning up at him.

  He nodded, smiling, then swung his eyes past her to the other women. “One of you ladies want to show the boys where to get started?”

  “Of course,” a short blonde said.

  Blood lifted his chin. “Lead the way, ma’am.”

  “Follow me,” she said, spinning on her feet. The boys trailed behind her, moving off to their assigned tasks.

  AJ watched them go, and then turned back to Undertaker. “I mean it. Thank you. This means more than you know.”

  He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “Glad to help, darlin’.”

  She pulled her hand free, glancing around to see if anyone saw.

  Undertaker chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

  “That wasn’t appropriate. I don’t want my friends or your… your men to get the wrong idea about this.”

  She looked truly nervous, and Undertaker found himself taking pity on her. He tilted her chin up. “Hey. Relax. No one’s going to see anything.”

  By the expression on her face, she’d caught the fact that his careful wording hadn’t promised there wouldn’t be anything to see, just that no one would see it. And perhaps she felt the need to set him straight, because she immediately brought up the kiss.

  “Look, Derek, I—”

  “Call me Undertaker.”

  Her brows shot up. “Call you what?”

  “Undertaker. It’s my club name. I’d rather you didn’t use my given name in front of my men.”

  “You want me to call you Undertaker rather than Derek?” she asked, disbelieving.

  “Just in front of the men. When we’re alone, you can call me Derek.”

  “When we’re alone? Look, Mr. Undertaker, I—”

  “Not Mister, just Undertaker.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Look, Undertaker, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. The other night…that kiss…that can’t happen again.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, because—”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “No. Yes. That’s beside the point, I—”

  “That’s exactly the point.”

  “I’m just trying to say that—”

  “What? What are you trying to say?” He grinned, loving that he could get her rattled.

  Her hands landed on her hips. She was onto him. “Don’t make me sorry I asked you here.”

  “You didn’t ask me here. I offered, remember?”

  “Are you always this difficult?”

  “Mostly. But that’s okay; you’ll get used to it.”

  “I don’t plan to be around you long enough to get used to it.”

  Undertaker chuckled. “Someday, I’m gonna remind you that you said those words.”

  “I’m already regretting this.”

  Undertaker laughed, then hooked his arm around her shoulders and aimed her toward her little silver sports car. “Come on, let’s go buy some meat to throw on the grill.”

  “I take it I’m driving?”

  “Unless you’re gonna turn the keys to this sweet ride over to me, yeah.”

  ***

  Four hours later AJ couldn’t believe all the work that had gotten done. Of course it helped that the pickup they’d brought with them had been loaded down with tools, painting supplies, a couple of weed whackers, and even a lawnmower. In no time, the lot was cleaned up, the lawn cut, the overgrown weeds gone, the windows replaced, and four rooms painted.

  It was like a horde of busy elves had descended on the property.

  Now the aroma of steaks and burgers on the grill permeated the neighborhood. She’d even met some of her new neighbors in this mostly residential area as they wandered over to see what was going on and then to offer their welcome, or occasionally their help.

  The property was on a main thoroughfare, but there were homes around it. The building she’d purchased had at one time been a home converted into a real estate office before it had gone out of business and been abandoned.

  Undertaker sat on the dropped tailgate of the pickup truck with a burger in his hand. Another of the men sat on an overturned empty five-gal
lon bucket. Others sat on the steps leading up to the covered porch or on the freshly cut yard.

  She had to admit, the guys were not at all what she’d expected. They didn’t seem to be the scary brutes she’d assumed them to be. She actually found them to be quite likeable. They laughed and cut up with each other, and yes, there was some language, but for the most part, they watched their mouths around her and the other women.

  She pulled a couple of cans of soft drinks from a cooler full of ice and walked around the group. “Anyone need another cola?”

  One of the men who was reclining back on the grass on his elbow, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have any beer in that cooler, would ya, darlin’?”

  “Sorry, no beer.”

  “Chill out, Sandman,” Undertaker said. “No one’s drinking here.”

  “You’re killin’ me, boss,” Sandman groaned, falling to his back.

  “Then can we go somewhere there is drinking?” the man next to him suggested with a grin.

  “Did you load up everything?” Undertaker drilled him with a look. “There’s no drop cloths or dirty paint brushes I’m gonna find inside?”

  “Got it all, Prez.”

  “Then go on if you want to.”

  “Thank God,” the kid mumbled.

  “I heard that, So-Cal.”

  They all started to climb to their feet, tossing paper plates and soda cans in the trash.

  “Wait. Before you go,” AJ began, stopping them all dead in their tracks. “I just wanted to tell you how thankful I am for all of your help today. I truly appreciate everything you did.”

  “Aw, shucks, ma’am. It t’weren’t nothin’,” Sandman said in a cheesy put-on voice. “Me and the boys were glad to do it.”

  “I know you’re teasing me, but I really do thank you.” She turned, taking in all their faces. “Truly.”

  They nodded and shuffled off to their bikes, almost embarrassed by her kind words. Soon the thunder of a half dozen drag pipes filled the lot as they roared out onto the street. The sound faded quickly into the distance.