Dirty

by A. C. Bextor

  Sitting back in my chair, I take a pull of my beer and look around the room. O’Malley’s isn’t busy tonight, but they rarely are. The country music playing in the background along with the old men sitting at a table playing cards cause me to smile with ease. These people live the lives they want. They don’t have exuberant amounts of money or possessions hidden away, but it doesn’t matter. They are who they are. Everyone in this town knows one another and it’s a good community. If only the filth didn’t lay in wait beneath its surface, dead set on destroying young patrons who try to make something of themselves.

  “Hear you’re talkin’ to Emma Carsen,” Aimes chides before taking a drink from his beer.

  “Talking, yes. She’s who I’m doin’ this for.”

  “She’s a sweet girl,” he says with a devilish smirk I don’t appreciate.

  Tommy stands, putting his beer down, “I gotta hit the head. You two cool it. That bullshit between the two of you happened lifetimes ago. Emma’s not a revenge piece, Aimes.”

  Aimes gives a big smile, his teeth bright, white and perfectly aligned, hide slightly behind his full, thick, dark beard. It’s also mocking Tommy. Tommy hisses and shakes his head before turning around and walking away.

  “It was a fuck of a long time ago,” Aimes says to those remaining at the table. “I’ve let it go.”

  “I was a dick then, man. I’m sorry,” I offer with sincerity.

  “I’m doin’ this for Emma, though. You should know that.”

  My eyebrows raise and I find myself pained at the thought of Aimes and Emma. They’re the same age and he’s a strong, good-looking guy. No sense reminding myself of the fact that she’s a beautiful young woman.

  “He hasn’t fucked her, Max,” Lelow puts in. He’s always been perceptive. “He wants to, though. But half the men in this town feel the same.”

  “No, I haven’t slept with her,” Aimes confirms. “She’s one of the best people in this town, though. She married that fuckin’ douchebag. Bastard looks like he’s been ironed.”

  “I haven’t met him,” I tell them.

  “He’s a piece of work,” Lelow adds. “Fuckin’ hypocrite.”

  “How so?”

  “He defends criminals every goddamn day. We’re talkin’ the scum of the earth. Yet, he looks his uppity nose down at ’em when they live in the same damn town.”

  Curiously, I ask, “Do you think he knows Hoss?”

  “Most likely,” Aimes answers. “But even he’d be a fool to get himself mixed up with Hoss Lattimore or Satan’s Creed.”

  “What’s that make us?” Lelow asks his brother.

  “A fuckin’ riot.” He laughs, slapping his shoulder. “But we enjoy the rush. Shit gets boring otherwise.”

  Lelow’s eyes move beyond my shoulder and another bright smile comes to his face. “Emma’s not with that phony husband tonight, though. That’s for fuckin’ certain.”

  Turning around in my chair, I find Emma standing in the doorway of the bar. She’s dressed in tight black suit pants and a red, button-up blouse. She gets more beautiful every time I see her. When I’m not with her, my memory doesn’t do her justice.

  “You gonna call her over, or just sit and stare at her all night?” Aimes asks, grinning like a fucking idiot.

  Lelow stands, throwing bills down on the table. “Let’s go, A. Max, call us when you have more information or a plan. Doesn’t have to be a good one. Aimes and I enjoy surprises. Whatever you need, we’re here.”

  “Thanks, man,” I say, taking his hand and returning the offer. “It may take some time, but I’ll be in touch.”

  Before leaving me in peace, Aimes bends down, slaps my shoulder, and says in my ear, “Em won’t be Greg Carsen’s woman forever. I may have forgiven you for fuckin’ my woman all those years ago, but I won’t wait for you to put your big boy pants on and make her yours. I’ll claim that ass of hers anytime, anywhere.”

  I don’t answer, but I also don’t doubt his words.

  My eyes stay on Emma as she walks toward me. Aimes and Lelow both stop to say hello, kiss her cheek, and then make their way to the door. They’ve left her laughing about something, probably at my expense based on the way Aimes stops, and with Em’s back to him, flips me off on a smile.

  Bastard.

  Those brothers are fucking crazy, and I’m sure they’re worth all the headaches they’ll cause, but right now I’m regretting ever asking them for a favor.

  “That Em?” Tommy asks first, situating himself in his chair. “And where the fuck are Aimes and Lelow goin’?”

  Every hot-blooded man in the bar has taken notice of her arrival, and it doesn’t matter if some are with their women. Their attention to her is already pissing me off.

  Emma doesn’t even notice them.

  “Let them go,” I return. “They wear me out. Those two never did grow up, did they?”

  “Nope,” Tommy says while sitting. “Crazy as fuck, I’m tellin’ ya. So are you.”

  “Maybe.”

  I haven’t taken my eyes off Emma since I turned to see her arrive.

  “Dickhead broke her fuckin’ heart, didn’t he?” Tommy asks as he sees through Em’s façade. I briefed him on what happened and he acted every bit as angry as I did.

  “Yes, he did.”

  Those who don’t know Em like we do, don’t notice the sad expression masked behind her casual passive look. Tommy sure as fuck didn’t miss it.

  “You knew about it already, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Fuck,” he says, sitting back in his seat. “You’re gonna tear him apart, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Guess it’ll be a break from blowin’ shit up,” he utters.

  “Yes, it will.”

  Standing up, Tommy moves his chair back under the table. “I hate being this perceptive. It’s as if I can see violence before it happens whenever you’re around.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” I tell him. “Kiss the family for me.”

  “I happened to mention your name the other night,” he tells me without a smile.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. And you’re right—Natalie still fuckin’ hates you.”

  I laugh out loud. “Beer or gas?” I ask.

  Tommy immediately answers the same time I do, “Beer!”

  “I’m gonna go before you get my ass in trouble. You take care, man,” Tommy advises before walking away.

  I watch as he, too, stops to say hi to Em, who’s now talking to a regular, Earl Winters, at the bar. The old man dressed in coveralls smiles blazingly under her attention.

  All the torrid, sick, and angered thoughts I’d had before leaving Creed tonight after what I witness have faded. The concern for Casey being there is strong, but I need to focus on getting her out, versus worrying about the other events which take place behind those wrought-iron gates.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Thought I’d find you here,” Emma tells me, the same time she’s pulling out a chair and making herself comfortable.

  “You come here often?” I ask with a smirk, offering a pathetic attempt of a generic one-liner.

  Her smile reaches her eyes and she snaps back, “Pickup lines, Max? Is that what you’ve reduced me to?” Her hand waves throughout the area around us. “You’re picking me up?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she finishes, “You’ll have to do better.”

  Cocking my eyebrow and lifting my bottle to the waitress, signaling I need two beers this round, I ask, “Would you like that?”

  “I would if I were single.”

  Surprised by her direct answer, I reply, “Had I known that, I’d have pulled a pickup line out of my ass years ago.”

  Her hand touches my arm. Still smiling, but not as much, she returns, “I’d have said yes.”

  She’s trying to fucking kill me.

  “Careful, Em. You’re married,” I warn.

  Putting her purse in the chair beside her, she s
ighs. “Seems I am, but maybe not for much longer.”

  I was pissed when Emma went back to talk to her husband the next morning, when she left my apartment. She swore he meant no harm. She said she wanted to talk to him and see where they each were regarding their marriage.

  “You and Greg make peace?”

  Shaking her head, she informs, “We didn’t. A dozen roses, a love letter full of apology, and a bigger food bowl for Owen were waiting for me when I got home. But we talked and agreed to separate for now.”

  “Separate?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she explains in a fluster. “I’m buying time, I guess.”

  “He cheated on you, Em.”

  “I know, Max.”

  Running my hands through my hair, I tell her, “You deserve better.”

  I understand being restless in life; I’ve found myself in that position many times. I don’t understand the feeling of breaking a woman’s heart, namely the woman I’ve sworn an oath to God to honor and protect. As far as I’m concerned, Greg Carsen is, and always will be, a giant piece of shit.

  “He moved his things into the Addison Tower apartments in town. I don’t think he’ll come back until I ask, and I don’t know that I’ll be asking, so if anything, I’ve got room alone to think.”

  “So, no more sleepovers at my place? Is this what you’re breaking to me?”

  Shaking her head, she smiles again. “As much as I enjoyed your grumpy bed, that’s going to be a no.”

  “My bed’s grumpy because it hasn’t been used,” I jest.

  Grabbing the beer the waitress placed in front of her, Em stops before taking a drink. “Out of the game, are you?”

  “I’ve been out of it for a long time.”

  “Doubtful,” she mocks. “I see you guys are still making jokes at Marie’s and my expense.”

  Unsure what she’s talking about, I prod, “What?”

  “Aimes mentioned the opportunity to blow things up later this week.”

  “Oh, that.” I smile. “Yeah, you’re still a running joke.”

  Straightening her posture and trying to look serious, she claims, “Those dogs on the Evans farm were being mistreated!”

  “Those dogs were doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing, Em,” I respond. “They were farm dogs.”

  “It was freezing outside, and that old man refused to give them shelter!”

  “It was October,” I correct. “You wanted us to blow up their shed with hate. You asked us to blow their sleeping quarters to smithereens.”

  I can’t help but laugh. She’s not so appreciative. Her agitation makes her hot as fuck, but she probably doesn’t want to hear that, so I stay quiet.

  “You helped me do it,” she accuses.

  “I helped you set a small fire. And only because you asked me to.”

  Smiling in remembrance, she says, “Marie was the one who asked. I was a bystander.”

  “Not how I remember it.”

  “Anyway,” she cuts the conversation short and sets her drink down after wiping the foam from her lips with her hand. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  A hundred reasons why I should walk away now before getting myself further into Creed. A thousand reasons I should call someone else for help and let them do it. But just one person gives me a million times my own strength to do what needs to be done.

  “Long day.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Finally getting to the point, she asks, “Have you seen her?”

  I hate the renewed tension in her eyes. I’d carry that on my shoulders, if she’d let me.

  “Seen who?” I try feigning ignorance.

  “Max.” She sighs, sitting back and getting comfortable. Her long, dark hair is pulled up tonight. I’m staring at her neck, wondering how soft the skin would feel on my tongue.

  Fuck, I picked the wrong sister.

  “Yes, Em,” I confirm. “I saw her.”

  Sitting up straight, grabbing my arm and squeezing tightly, she exclaims, “Oh, my God, Max!”

  “I saw her during my visit.” I don’t mention what else I witnessed. She’s not ready to hear the details. I’m unsure she’ll ever be ready.

  “Well?” she snaps. “Is she okay? Is she hurt? I mean, does she look like she’s being taken care of?”

  “Em, calm down, okay?”

  “No!” she snaps out again, this time louder than the last. “Tell me!”

  I lie. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I meant what I said to Tommy. Emma doesn’t touch this shit. “She looked okay. She’s a quiet kid. She wouldn’t even tell me her name.”

  Or more importantly, let me hear her voice.

  Her eyes look down, her fingers turning the bottle in a circle as it lies on the table. “She was quiet with me, too. She looked so scared the last time I saw her. How do you know it was her?”

  “The picture mainly, but she has Dee Dee’s eyes, from what I remember of them.”

  Sitting back, Em exhales in relief, but her eyes still give away her worry. “God, Max. I don’t know what to say.”

  “She’s okay,” I confirm again.

  She’s okay for now, I think, but don’t say out loud.

  “So, they let you get near her?” she asks with bated breath.

  “Yes and no.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Trying to get her to understand, I lean forward to ensure I have her attention. “They didn’t exactly waltz me to her room, if that’s what you think.”

  Shaking her head, she returns, “No, I didn’t think that.” She pauses and her eyes light up. “What do you mean ‘her room’?”

  “She’s being held in a room away from everyone else.”

  Her eyebrows furrow with her confusion. “Why?”

  “Not sure. Maybe there’s an agenda, or there’s not. Maybe she’s just in the way. I don’t know. I do know, though, as long as she’s in there and no one bothers her, she’s as safe as she can be.”

  “Did you see Dee Dee?”

  “Luck has it, I haven’t had the pleasure yet.”

  I don’t comment on how Hoss described Dee Dee’s well-being. Or how Hangar is a vile and ruthless idiot. I don’t have the heart to break hers right now. For as many obvious reasons Emma has to despise Dee Dee, she still has some reasons to love her. They’re sisters and shared a happy life together long before Dee Dee strayed to a distant path.

  “Did Casey look scared?”

  “She wasn’t afraid of me.”

  “How do you know? You’re not exactly approachable.”

  I laugh, but she doesn’t. It’s true I’ve never been considered ‘approachable’, but I’ve been labeled much worse. “No, probably not.”

  “God, this is torture,” she starts, looking at the ceiling. “I want to see her, Max. Do you think . . .”

  Putting my beer down on the table, I sit back in my chair, which removes her hand from my arm.

  “Don’t ask me that. The answer will always be fuck no. Until I have her out of there and we talk to whoever we gotta talk to so she can be with you for good, you’re not asking me that ridiculous question again.”

  “I worry. Surely you understand I just want to know she’s okay,” she explains with tears in her eyes.

  I can’t watch Emma cry. Even as a young woman, when a boy broke her heart and she’d come running to Dee Dee, I had a hard time swallowing it down. Now that I’m the indirect cause, it’s so much worse.

  Running my hands over my face, I move to a different tactic and try to reason with her. “You have to let me do this my way, Em. If I’m worried about you, I can’t focus.”

  “Okay,” she complies as her chin quivers in disappointment and sadness.

  The worst thing Em could do is try to help me with this situation. She’s done enough by asking me to look into it. She’s been holding herself together for a long time, and I realize that her hopes are high and she feels closer to a resol
ution. It’s understandable under the circumstances, but still, with everything happening—Marie’s killer still out there, Hoss changing our agreement, Greg’s affair, and a constant look of worry on Em’s face—I’m truly starting to wear thin.

  I need my bike.

  “Did you drive here or take a cab?” I ask, catching her off-guard.

  “Cab,” she answers with petulance.

  Standing up, I nod to Maggie and grab Em’s arm, “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go somewhere else so I can get a change of scenery at least. The men in here won’t stop looking at you, and with the mood you’re putting me in, I’m liable to start a brawl. You wear me out.”

  Her eyes immediately narrow. “I wear you out,” she says. “I wear you out,” she repeats. “You’re barbaric.”

  Trying with great effort to hold in a smirk, I lean down and whisper in her ear so only she can hear it, even though I’d love nothing more than to claim her as mine in front of all these witnesses. “You haven’t seen or felt barbaric. I’d be happy to change that for you, though, if you’d like.”

  Her intake of breath is all I needed to let me know she understood my point. I tug slightly on her arm and she follows me the rest of the way out of the bar.

  Just as we’re about to hit the door, I hear Earl call from his end bar stool. “Seems now I know why your life is so damn interesting,” he says, looking at Emma.

  She smiles, even though she has no clue what he’s talking about.

  “Quiet, Earl,” I tell him.

  “If I were twenty years younger, I’d take that ‘interesting’ and drive off into the sunset.”

  Pulling a twenty from my wallet, I lay it on the bar beside his drink. I slap his back with the frustration I feel. “If you were twenty years younger, you’d still be too old. Enjoy your evening. Drink’s on me.”

  “Punk,” he calls me.

  “Dirty old man,” I return while helping Em through the door with a hand on her lower back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Was that your first time on the back of a Harley?” I ask, stepping off and turning around to help Em balance.

  She doesn’t ride on the back of one well. I had to maintain an uncomfortable balance as she resisted the twists and turns of the dirt road, which led up to the peak where we’re parked.