Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Thanks John. Too bad you didn’t kill him.”

  This must be personal. I smile and wave Earl back. “Take your peeps somewhere for a few minutes, and I’ll guide Grant to the river of no return.”

  Earl sighed, looking guiltily over at his partner. “We can’t do that, Dark Lord.”

  “You should have told me it was personal on the phone, brother.”

  “Will you stop with that damn Dark Lord stuff!” Tommy hates my alter ego. “You know he’ll be croaking at me now for a week, and humming that stupid Darth Vader theme.”

  Earl and ‘Rique get a laugh out of Tommy’s angst, as a few of their PD counterparts walk up to join the group. McArthur Blvd’s getting crowded. Since they have Parsons confirmed down, Earl sends the reinforcements on their way. After cuffing Parsons on their own, ‘Rique and Earl douse him with some water. He starts groaning after a couple of wet downs. Earl gets in his face. I can see they’re recording too.

  “Can you hear me, Parsons? Are you coherent?”

  Realization is forming on Parsons’ features. He sees it would have probably been a better idea to shoot it out in the bar. He looks up at me crossly. “What the fuck you hit me for, Harding?”

  I shrug. “It seemed like the thing to do. Hey, Earl, why not take the cuffs off of poor old Grant here and let him have a go? Maybe I can still save the taxpayers some money on his trial.”

  ‘Rique plays along. “Damn, John, that’s a good idea. Let’s get him up and walk him around the corner, partner.”

  Parsons loses all semblance of rage. He stares open mouthed at ‘Rique and Earl as they begin to release him. “Hey… what the hell? You have to take me in. Read me my damn rights and put me in the car!”

  ‘Rique turns his recorder back on with a chuckle. Earl reads Parsons his rights, followed by Parsons enthusiastically acknowledging he understood them. Earl loaded him in the squad car without any trouble at all. By then, I noticed Gronk’s beady little eyes taking in the scene around him. He wasn’t panting anymore.

  “You guys want me and Tommy to take Gronk in? We were going to anyway to get his ticket.” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my PD buddies, but we had a good deal of money tied up in the Gronkster.

  Earl nodded. “Sure, John. We’ll write you up for Parsons too. There’s a nice piece of change on his head. ‘Rique and I will make sure you get it. Thanks for calling this in.”

  “You two working security tonight?” Tommy wants to know if we’ll be able to walk out of our redecorated fight house without eyes in the back of our heads.

  “Yeah, T,” ‘Rique answered. “Should we bet on John or Dixon?”

  Tommy grinned, looking over at me. “It’s a tossup. I hear it’s three to one for John to whup him. You guys can’t make any money that way. That’s a sucker bet.”

  My PD buds get a big he-haw out of that line. I shrug because Tommy’s right.

  “Best to stay away from the action tonight, guys. I have some business with Dixon. Watch our backs tonight after the fight, and I’ll settle up at The Warehouse Bar for a five hundred bonus – no gamble.”

  Earl nodded as he got in behind the wheel. “You got it, brother, thanks.”

  “Later, John.” ‘Rique waved from the passenger side of the squad car. “Tommy, you have to come by the Warehouse with John. He’ll do the Dark Lord for you, right John?”

  ‘Rique dived into the passenger side, and Earl took off, leaving Tommy steaming. I wanted to enjoy the moment, but I had to keep my attention on the Gronkster.

  Chapter Three: Bills Come Due

  “C’mon, T. Go get the car and I’ll load up Gronk. Let’s punch his ticket. We stick to business for the rest of today.”

  “Fine,” Tommy relented with a grin, “but I’m still telling Lora.”

  Prick. He does that irritating horse laugh of his while he goes around the corner. I turn to Gronk. He’s unhappy. “Hey, Gronk, it’s time to go.”

  I get him to his feet in time for Tommy to pull up in front. Gronk holds back.

  “Let me go, Harding. You know I’ll get free somehow. I’ll come back for you and-”

  “Shut the fuck up, Gronk!” Tommy leaps out of the driver’s side to race around to where I’m holding the Gronkster. He grabs Gronk by his chin. “If you keep talkin’, John won’t answer, but you’ll never make it to the station alive, you moron!”

  It was then Gronk felt it as Tommy turned to me carefully. “Put it away, John. Remember what you said – all business today.”

  My blade had separated the material on his sweatshirt. The tip had probably broken the skin. Tommy was fast. With a flip of my wrist, the butterfly knife closed and disappeared into my back pocket. Tommy takes charge of Gronk, smacks his head into the upper car door frame, and shoves him in the backseat.

  “Damn it, John, some folks shoot their mouths off, especially when being taken into custody.” Tommy looks away for a moment, and then laughs. “Sorry, John. That was stupid. Now you have to weigh my screw-up into the mix. What’ll it be, partner. My bad. I just figured there’s a big downside to doing Gronk after our interaction with the PD.”

  He gets it. We’ve been around the block together more than a few times. Tommy’s just pissed about my Dark Lord stuff. It colored his judgment. I’m not letting it go though just because I love Tommy like a brother. “Do the math and give me a decision, T. Gronk knows you. He knows your family. Forget about me and mine. Granted, he could have kept his mouth shut and came at us later, but he didn’t. He wants us to know we’re on his to do list. Yeah, I know all the parameters: money, UFC matches, peace of mind... I’ll leave it up to you. Make the call, brother.”

  Me and Tommy are tight. Our connection is way beyond reality. Sure, he recognized talent, and helped me into the back alley fight game at his monetary gain. He also knows if he says the word, I will crawl into the backseat with Gronk and snuff him like an ant on my tuna fish sandwich. I don’t take threats well. He knows that, but Tommy can weigh risks, money, and future in a heartbeat. I trust his judgment.

  Tommy starts walking around to the driver’s seat. “Let’s bring him in breathing, John. The PD knows we have him.”

  I look down into the backseat, staring at Gronk. I whip the butterfly knife out once, twice, three times… before answering. “I’ll slice and dice him, and the PD can go fuck themselves. I’ll take the rap, and get my playmakers to cover it.”

  Gronk’s head is moving side to side as his mouth jacks out lies about what he will or won’t do. I’m thinking Tommy is going to go all in for a moment, but he sighs and gets behind the wheel. “Get in, John. Let’s opt for the payday.”

  The butterfly knife made its practiced disappearance into my back pocket once again. I slap Gronk’s cheek affectionately. Then I lean in nose to nose, because I’m getting a hard on for this cheap cocksucker. “I don’t normally get to this speech often. You best pray nothing happens to Tommy, or anyone associated with us: family, friends, or even acquaintances. You have no idea what the term flayed alive means. I will teach it to you… slowly… like fifty weight oil flows in wintertime.”

  I put a period at the end of my speech by making the butterfly knife reappear in a split second, slice through Gronk’s right ear, and vanish into my back pocket once again. Gronk yelped in a high pitched tone as the butterfly knife blade reappeared under his nuts, and inadvertently sliced through the outer layer of his pants. Gronk wised up. The sullen wannabe mobster look that had already been replaced by complete compliance, escalated into unabridged fear.

  “Want to see it disappear again, Gronk?”

  Gronk nodded with passion. “I’m done, Harding!”

  I tickled the idiot’s scrotum for a moment without losing contact with his eyes. “You’re not being convincing enough, my friend. I still detect a lack of passion… you fuck!”

  Gronk got passionate. I may have let the razor sharp blade make its cold way to his balls.

  “I…I’ll kill anyone I hear that… that eve
n speaks your name… anything!”

  The butterfly knife returns to its place of residence. I pat Gronk’s face once again. “I think we have an understanding. Let me add this: if you escape from custody, I will hunt you down, and flay you alive. I will find you. Is that understood?”

  Gronk nodded without speaking. Wise choice.

  “Good. I think we’re done here, T.” Tommy handed me a piece of adhesive tape. I pinched it into place over Gronk’s new ear notch. He thanked me. I got out and slammed Gronk’s door. Tommy took off the moment I was belted in next to him. “It won’t be bad tonight. All business tonight too, T. Fiialkov thinks he finally has a winner. The prick actually bet against Rankin in Dubai… his own white Russian.”

  “He’s a piece of work all right. Alexi knows business. He knows everyone in the area wants you to lose. When you keep winning, it upsets the cosmic balance. Keep doing the damn Dark Lord crap, and I’ll be hoping for you to lose.”

  I heard Gronk grunt in amusement. I glanced back at him and he looked down at his feet. “He obviously figured out a way to get me under his thumb. I might as well be fighting for him. Alexi finds a way to get me to do exactly what he wants me to do anyway.”

  Tommy laughed, nodding his head in agreement. “You’re right, DL. You’re his bitch, and you haven’t even gotten kissed.”

  Gronk snickered.

  That hurt. “I’m his bitch? What about Ray. Fiialkov can’t move without Ray Alexander’s nose up his ass. I wonder how much he’s into Fiialkov because of betting against me.”

  “Somewhere in the fifty to a hundred grand range,” Tommy replied, getting serious about our subject. “Jim Bonasera got clear of it before that idiot Ray imploded, but they’re both still working for Alexi now. I wonder if Ray will be there rootin’ you on, Dark Lord.”

  That’s funny - Ray Alexander in the Dark Lord’s corner. “I hope not. He’s bad luck. I think Alexi keeps him around as a ‘Cooler’.”

  Tommy laughs, nodding his head. “Yeah, every time a big fish starts a winning streak against Fiialkov, he sends Ray to schmooze with them, and deal done, streak ended. You’ve turned the conversation, but I’m still telling Lora.”

  Prick. “Fine. I don’t care. Lora knows the score.”

  “She doesn’t know the score about you insisting on walking in on a cop killer with nothing but your looks”

  I can tell a negotiation when I hear one. “What’s it going to cost me?”

  “I want to take the family out on The Sea Wolf.”

  I sat up straight, hearing those words. “You’re crazier than a two legged cat, T! That’s Lucas’s boat. You put a scratch on it, and nothing will save you, brother. Lucas is mental over that boat.”

  “Make it happen, DL.”

  “It’s your funeral, T. On the bright side you’ll have at least thirty burials at sea. That’s how many pieces Lucas will cut you into when you accidentally mar the outside of his boat.”

  “The Sea Wolf belongs to your crew. Stop being such a pansy, and stand up to Captain Ahab.”

  “I’m trying to save your life here. Let me talk Lucas into taking your family out on an excursion. He might let you steer it or make a couple turns out in open water. How’s that?”

  Tommy considers it. “Okay… that might be good. Besides, Lucas and I are just like brothers. He’d never hurt me over a couple dings.”

  Yeah, that’s a laugh. “I think I heard Lucas say the same thing about the last guy he eviscerated. Take the example of his partner Casey – a stone killer. Remember the stories about US Cavalry soldiers fighting Apaches. They would put a bullet in their own heads rather than be captured by Apaches. Casey would slit his own throat rather than pilot The Sea Wolf.”

  Tommy knows Casey. The man’s own mother gets chills when Casey’s around. “Maybe you’re right. Talk to Lucas for me.”

  I leaned back with a sigh. “You have chosen… wisely.”

  * * *

  We punch Gronk’s ticket without incident other than some congrats from the PD. Tommy drops me off at home early enough for me to get a little nap before the fight.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight, Gomer,” Tommy says. “Tell your greeting party I said hi.”

  I shut the car door while glancing toward my front entrance. Lora and her mini-me, Alice are waiting on the front stoop, arms folded, with complimentary scowls. By the time I look back toward Tommy’s car, it’s speeding away. He knows trouble when he spots it. At least I know he didn’t have anything to do with it, which makes me wonder what the heck my greeting party is all about. I paste a smile on, approaching with shields up.

  “I hear you went unarmed into a bar to drag out a cop killer with no backup.” Lora fires a volley. “What were you thinking?!”

  “Yeah!” Minnie-me puts another exclamation point on.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “That other killer you took down legitimately with Tommy backing you up told the story loud and clear after you dropped him off. He had ‘Rique call me, because he said you told him it was important I be contacted.”

  The Gronkster porked me. I smile. You better pray you never get out of prison, Gronk. Oh, what fun we’ll have then. “You and Lora-light go on inside and quit making a spectacle of yourselves.”

  I get gasps of outrage, but no movement. I walk up, snatch Lora off the stoop, and carry her inside under my arm. Al jumps me from behind with a choke hold. Once inside, I start whistling as I close the door, with Lora kicking and cursing while Minnie-me chokes me with no effect on the way to the kitchen. I deposit them next to the sink and get a Sprite out of the refrigerator, enjoying the verbal cannon fire from my wife and step-daughter. I sit down with a satisfied sigh. Life is good. The only bad part is Tommy finagled a boat ride without payment.

  “Well?” Lora asks, still scowling.

  “Well what?” I ask back in full Dark Lord voice. “The Dark Lord does not have to answer to pseudo bosses and mini-mes.”

  Alice giggles, but Lora is still upset.

  “I have a fight tonight. I’m going to bed for a few hours. We can take this case of my insubordination up tomorrow, or have Samira come over and look after Mini-me, and meet me over at the Warehouse Bar. I’ll send Jafar after his wife when the fight ends.”

  Lora’s face lightens up. “I can’t believe Jafar and Samira are married.”

  “They’re both over eighteen, in love, and her old man gave his consent. The old man’s consent was the most important part. They both make great money. They have a house, and an incredible future. I’ll bet Jafar’s a Dad by this time next year.”

  “I want to see the fight, John,” Alice states.

  “Oh, now it’s up to me whether you see the fight? Ask the boss. No, don’t bother. You already know the answer.” I stand up, and chug the rest of my Sprite. “I’ll be seeing you two shortly. The Dark Lord needs his rest.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay, John,” Lora said.

  “I know that, hon. I’m sorry things got scary, but I need to keep the PD happy, and they’re very happy with me today. Earl and ‘Rique will be watching our backs tonight too after the fight.”

  “Who will be doing it in the fight?”

  I held up my fists, left first, then right. “My old partners here, death and destruction.”

  “I better call Lucas and Casey.”

  Smartass.

  * * *

  The guard at the door waves us into the upgraded warehouse. Thanks to my fight with the Syrian Slayer, we have our own cage and seating around it, not to mention lighting, paint job, and even a concession bar. A big guy blocks our way after we get inside. It’s the Big O, a Nigerian fighter who ran his mouth off before I closed it for him. Tommy immediately jumps in front of me. We have money on the line here, and I don’t get into extracurricular freebies.

  The Big O is playacting for the crowd stopping to see what’s going on. That’s what got him a special whuppin’ the last time. “I want you, Harding!”


  “You got him already, O,” Tommy reminds him. “If you want a rematch, have your handler call me. He has my number.”

  “Hidin’ behind yo’ mamma here ain’t goin’ to save you!”

  I grab hold of Tommy. “Jack’s comin’, T.”

  Tommy steps back as Jack Korlos arrives, sap in hand. Nearly as big as me, an ex-boxer wearing all the marks from his time in the fight game, Jack referees matches for Fiialkov. He points the sap at the Big O.

  “This is straight from Mr. Fiialkov, get the hell out of the way or you’ll never get a fight anywhere again. Stay in the way and I’ll move you. Then, the best you’ll be doing is blubbering and trying to remember what your name is.”

  The mention of Alexi’s name is enough to put a startled look on the O’s face. He steps off, gesturing at me. Jack grins back at me, and motions us to follow him. It was good pre-fight entertainment for the crowd. Alexi moves in next to me with a big smile as Jack runs interference for us to the cage. We never had to worry about this crap until the place got a facelift. I notice the camera crews are already in place.

  “Sorry about that, John. The Big O has been steaming for a rematch. I’m not sure why. It took him months to recover from the beating you gave him. He’s been wrecking all comers the last few months. I think he’s getting pharmaceutical help.”

  “He had the look,” Tommy put in. “You doin’ drug testin’ yet, Alexi?”

  Fiialkov laughs. “We are perhaps a bit too casual for that, Tommy. A few more of these draws, and we may be able to go legit. Maybe whoever wins tonight can give O a match. What do you think, John?”

  I see a familiar gleam in Alexi’s eyes. “I think you believe I’m going down tonight and it doesn’t much matter. You think I’ll need a fight after I get whupped tonight, and Dixon takes my spot on the UFC card against the Slayer. Big O would be a perfect consolation match for me after Dixon smacks the crap out of me, huh?”