by Liz K. Lorde
“Please be safe? It’s not worth it,” she said, fiddling with her fingers, “not if…not if I lose you again.” She brought her chin up and swallowed, “and if I give you my friend’s address, could you have someone take Barristan to her?”
“Don’t worry, Jess. I got this. I’ve got you. Everything will get sorted. I’ll make sure the pup is safe.”
She nodded and padded off to my bed. After giving her a final look, I shut the door and hustled back downstairs, eager to sate the thirst in my bones. I conscripted the help of Pooh Bear and Tommy for keeping an eye on the room. “Nobody in or out, we clear?”
Tommy nodded his head and Pooh Bear assured me that it was all good. There was something about Tommy that didn’t sit right though, with the way he looked at her. It was subtle, but it was there – I’d seen he was checking her out, and I couldn’t blame him for that. But to keep doing it? I mentally made a note to get Jessica some ink down the line; even if we were back together, it was going to take real time and effort to make up for what happened between us.
But it was a start, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. I’d have to find room to trust her again. To trust her implicitly, and she’d have to find forgiveness in her heart for the cruelness that I showed her, when she opened herself to me completely.
Satisfied with her safety, I raised my chin at the two men and turned on my heel, beating feet downstairs and hitting up Reyes and Jameson next. We’d beaten the shit out of each other, but violence was just another way to say ‘I love you’ around here.
I caught them up to speed with what was going to go down, with or without their help. But they didn’t take much convincing. I didn’t let them know everything about what’d happened with Jessica and her trash of an ex, but I told them enough to where I could see it in Reyes’ eye – he’d kill him in a heartbeat.
Jameson put his hand on my shoulder, “We will always have your back, brother-mine. You know this,” I didn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice.
Reyes murmured his agreement, and the two walked out towards their respective motorcycles. Even though I knew it was there, I compulsively checked my hip for the 1911 that I had holstered there. When my hand felt at the gun’s outline, I waved my goodbyes to Mozz, Holly and what little else remained of the crew.
Since Jessica had been so kind as to divulge that Jerry was a janitor at the local Applegate Community College, I headed off with my brothers towards the location.
***
It was when the three of us were nearing the halfway point that I got the call from Dee that I could feel vibrating in my pocket. When I got to a red light, I pulled out my still buzzing phone. “Sup?”
“It’s Dee,” he said with his sort of nasal type voice.
“Dee, hey. You find anything, brother?”
“I found some things, but not much,” he admitted in a defeated tone. “This guy doesn’t do much social media, but from what I can gather from his facebook posts, tweets, and his I.P. Looks like his residential is going to be on Cedar Lane, renting a small house 1213. It could be wrong, so I’m going to keep sifting through what I can. Been making phone calls to his neighbors, but nobody’s given me anything totally solid.”
“Alright man, thank you.”
“Y-you’re welcome, and Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you pick me up some Mountain Dew Amp and a box of Johns?”
“Sure buddy,” I said it so casually, I was sure that I’d freak out Jessica if she knew – murder and picking up sweets in the same night. Some catch I was. We said our goodbyes and I clicked off the burner, stuffing it back in my pocket; I signaled for me and the boys to meet up in the parking lot of the local shopping center, and then let them know of Jerry’s resident location. Told them to split up our efforts, that I’d take his place of work, and that Jameson and Reyes would scope out the house he was renting – that if he was there, they would call and let me know.
***
Before I could even make it to the community college, Reyes reported that Jerry’s poor excuse for a van was parked outside and that they snuck a peek of him against the side of his abode. I groaned with annoyance at having come up with the losing location, but thanked Reyes and let him know I was on my way. My bones were itching to make this sick coward bleed.
After a half something hour of hard riding, with the last light of the sun dying behind me, I parked my bike a good number of houses down from where Jerry was. Presuming that the guys did the same, just elsewhere. With every step that I took down the concrete sidewalk, I could feel these small explosions rocking me – there was this inexplicable tightness in my chest.
This man had hurt my girl. There was no coming back from what I was about to do. I’d show him the real meaning of terror; I had just the idea in mind.
Jessica’s only condition for agreeing to let me do this, was that I couldn’t tell her the details of how it went down, and that I couldn’t let it come back to me or the club. We’d make it look like the Niners did it by giving him their signature burn marks, that way the heat from Homicide, although I doubt there’d be any for a guy like him, would be steered in the direction away from the club.
We made sure to stay well out of the way, acting as if we were only casually rolling through the neighborhood – letting the sun wink out of existence and the first cover of night grace the streets. Satisfied with the timing for our strike, I looked to my brothers. “Reyes, you take the rear. Jameson? You’re coming with me, if he tries to make a run for it, and you can’t stop him – just clip him in the leg and let me get the final blow. Remember, I want to get this fuck to myself for a hot moment. Make him suffer.”
The Vice and Sgt. At Arms nodded in agreement. We crossed the street quickly and when we felt like we were reasonably out of sight, brandished our pistols. Reyes jumped the small wooden fence and Jameson and I gave him a moment to get into position. Once we were certain he’d be ready, we looked to one another. There was that cold fire in Jameson’s eyes that I admired him for. He was always calm and cool and collected, guess that’s why Brad saw fit for him to be the right hand of the club.
All at once, Jameson and myself brought our foot to the face of the door and kicked it in hard. The red door was scratched up and looked like it’d been through hell more than once; we gave it a fitting death when it popped off of its hinges, wooden chips exploding outward. The door squeaked and groaned in protest before it collapsed against the grimy linoleum floor.
I brought my pistol up and kept a steady beat directly in front of my person, all of my senses waking up with the familiar rush of adrenaline. The place was a total mess, and it was clear that this guy didn’t give a shit about keeping the place even remotely intact. The whole footprint of the place was puny, there was no second floor, just a tiny squatting hole of a place that most people would never want to be around.
There was a banging kind of noise, not from Reyes’ gun, that came from ahead and to my left. Still, I quietly mouthed to Jameson that he ‘go right’ and I crept to the left at a respectable speed – sure that if this piece of shit decided to run, that Reyes would easily catch him.
Dirty clothes were scattered around the floor, I had to step over a small pile of beat and worn jeans to make it into the dining room. It was scarcely much bigger than a bathroom; the large wooden desk more of a receptacle for junk and unopened mail than an actual place for eating. There were a couple of gross plates and smudge stained glasses.
My heart tapped against the bone of my breast, and I put one foot in front of another, craning my neck to try and get an easier look of what was around the corner, inside of the living room.
I heard a voice that I immediately recognized as Jerry’s yell “what the fuck!” and then there was the sound of quickly approaching footsteps in my direction. I stopped dead in my tracks and held my gun steady; could even feel the tug of a smile on my lips, burning waves of excitement rippling through me.
He was gonna come right to
me.
Sure enough, Jerry, that fucking weasel, rounded the corner and nearly collided right into me. The guy was wearing what looked like decade old almond brown penny loafers; a pair of work slacks and a stained white tee. He shot his arms out, trying to balance himself as he slid a half step against the linoleum floor. Right after, he took several retreating steps – the look of worry and primal fear etched on his pasty ass face. He knew that he couldn’t go either way now, being trapped like the animal he was.
Pulling in a deep breath, I narrowed my eyes and kept my gun steady on the man as I approached him with predatory strides. For each step that I took, he nervously backed up – continuing to look over his shoulder as he whined out a couple of ‘pleases’ and the like. Begged that he didn’t understand what was going on.
When Jerry backed up against Reyes, he looked between us like he was about to piss himself. Jameson appeared like a shadow at my side, and just like that we’d completely surrounded the prick.
Reyes grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt from behind and threw him onto the torn up couch, and he growled, “Like to pick on things weaker than you, isn’t that right?” He pressed his gun against Jerry’s chest hard, making the man wince in pain.
I looked over to Jameson and whispered, “Get me the nastiest knife you can find,” and watched him slink away to find the kitchen. I glided over beside Jerry and pushed the barrel of my pistol against the temple of his shaking skull, his nervous eyes darting between me and Reyes.
“Please,” his voice was hot with the fear of death. Raw. “Whatever, whatever you think I – I didn’t. I didn’t do it!”
Shoving the end of the gun further into his temple I boomed for him to look at me, “You like to rape girls? Jerry? That it? Fucking sit your ass down, you piece of shit.”
“Hunter—“
Unable to control my own building fury, I wound back my hand and struck the side of Jerry’s head with the butt of my pistol, “Don’t you fucking use my name like you know me.”
Jerry wailed out a few agonized screams, the tiniest of cuts forming against the side of his head – red appearing just beneath the veneer of his balding hair. It gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction, to make the man hurt. I wasn’t nearly done with him though, not even close. His hand shot up to press against the wound.
Reyes brought his boot up to the man’s crotch and stepped down hard. “You still getting off there, boss? Make too much noise and I’ll cut your tongue out, trust me now, you don’t want that. I’ve seen the way men look at me without their tongue. You don’t want to know that hell.”
Jerry’s body convulsed in a quick, painful spurt before trying to simultaneously break free and shove off Reyes’ boot. “Fuck,” he screamed, before Reyes covered the shit stain’s mouth.
Reyes smashed his boot down harder and between the screams I could hear Jameson coming up behind me. “Might do us some good to throw you down to Pemberton,” Reyes’s smile widened, “seein’ how you like to violate things weaker than you. Boys up there would love a weak little fuckmeat such as yourself,” Reyes stepped off and glanced over at me.
“No!” Jerry bundled himself into a tight ball on the couch, “god just make this stop please – I’ll give you anything. I didn’t rape anybody!”
Jameson handed me a rusted kitchen knife that looked like it had lost much of its sharpness. Perfect. I felt the warm sickness of vengeance slip through my veins, and a smirk tugged at my lips. Moving Reyes aside, I handed my gun to him and with one hand, I pushed Jerry against the couch by use of his neck. He looked at me with small, puny and watering eyes.
I met his gaze with an unbound ferocity, squeezing that stick some would call a neck, feeling the power rush through me as I held his disgusting excuse for a life in my hands. I knew that if I wanted, all I’d have to do is clench down hard enough and he’d slip away – wouldn’t even need a second hand. Instead, I measured my anger and brought the knife to the neck of his tee, right below my hand. “I know what you did, and you know what you did. You know what happens when you fuck with a biker’s girl? Hm?” I rattled the man for an answer.
He shook beneath my grip and his whole person did this involuntary trembling. He shook his head from left, then to right, in answer.
“You kiss her,” I started, bringing the knife down his shirt – slowly ripping right on through and exposing his fleshy chest; there was unsurprisingly no muscle there, no definition. Nothing but a smattering of greasy hairs and small pink nipples. The blade kissed along his chest, opening a thin line of crimson as it trailed. “You get your ass beat. You fuck her? Ah, well,” I chuckled darkly to myself; could feel the watchful eyes of Jameson and Reyes. “Let’s hope you lived a storied life,” I said, bringing the blade down hard and quick in a burst of speed and power. The end of the rusted knife flicked down beyond his work pants, leaving a much larger gash of a nasty cut along his navel and down to just above the pad of where his pubes would be.
Jerry screamed out in pain and my hand squeezed tighter around his neck in response. I could feel him squirming around hard, trying desperately to break free – this frenzied, cut off noise trying to escape his blocked throat.
Jameson and Reyes quickly moved over to hold him down, and after a moment, the spurts of movement and spams died back down to a trembling, only occasionally turning back into wild movement.
“Now,” I said, ripping off his pants so that he was down to his underwear and the scraps of what remained of his shirt. “You rape a woman? You fucking pig. You violate another human being?” I trailed the knife down to his shrunken, hiding excuse of manhood. “A made girl? Fate worse than death. Those dying moments before you pass off into hell, and even the devil looks at you reviled? Fucking torturous.” I tapped the blade with a sadistic sense of playfulness against him. “Look at me,” I snarled, rattling him once more. “Look. At. Me.”
His eyes flashed open with terror, his whimpering constant.
“You raped her,” I susurrated, peeling off his underwear and bringing the knife to the pad of his flesh, letting it’s end dig inside half of a bloody inch. I shook my head up and down slowly, “You drowned her,” the blade sunk in hard, punching through him easily. There was a chorus of suffering that wanted to explode from his mouth, and his body convulsed recklessly.
I yanked the blade up, dragging it’s bloodied point to the fleshy stem of his sex, giving him grim assurance. “You’ll have time enough to mourn it.”
33
Jessica
I brought one of Hunter’s pillow to my chest and clutched it tightly, as though it were a huge stuffed toy that could suck up like a sponge all the pain that seemed to find me. I disliked being spirited away, but I saw it in Hunter’s eyes. The darkness. The hate and the monstrous will that burned beneath those chips of arctic ice. He was going to make Jerry suffer, and a part of me truly wondered if it was okay – if it was okay to feel at peace with that; worse so, if it was human to derive a certain happiness and sense of comfort in just…knowing.
He would be gone for good. Forever. The moss of sorrow that so carelessly clung to my bones would fade.
On that terrible issue, at least.
I clutched the pillow tighter, it’s black fitted casing pressing against my chin as I leaned against the wall. It smelled of him, the scent of pine and man and wondrous Hunter. A pang of hurt stabbed through my chest, it was all still so sudden it felt – to go from one end of this insane roller coaster of life and emotion, to the very other.
I had missed him. Missed him deeply. Missed him even more now. But was he going to ever be able to trust me again? Was I really ready to forgive the hateful shit that he told me? I wasn’t even sure that I could love another creature, not after all the messed up bullshit I’d constantly managed to put myself through.
The door’s handle turned and my eyes slid over to it. It opened slowly, the hinges making a small, low squeak. Brian, AKA Pooh Bear, walked through with a funny smile on his face that seemed to
be asking: is it okay to come in? I nodded my head and he shut the door, waving a hand at me, “How you doing?”
“Okay,” I responded automatically, only realizing after that clutching a man’s pillow in a death grip would probably infer something besides okayness. “Okay as I can be, I guess.”
Bear walked over towards Hunter’s desk and grabbed at a chair, dragging it a few feet closer towards the bed and planting his butt in it. The back of the chair was facing me, so he draped his arms around the top of it and let his chin rest on his arms. Those eyes I remembered the most. Intense, beautifully caring brown. Like the world hung on every word that might spill from your lips. “Forgive me if I’m prodding,” his smile stretched another inch and he looked like he was embarrassed to even be asking, “can’t seem to help myself.”
I laughed, “Don’t be so afraid of me. I only bite assholes like Hunter.”
“Yeah,” he said, “so what happened? I mean, I hear shit second hand,” he explained lifting his chin up and having it hover above his arms. “Kind of goes with mostly being at the club as muscle, hard to keep up on shit.”
“You mean what happened between me and Hunter?”
“Yeah.”
My stomach dropped, the truth would get me killed. If any of them knew, I’d be drawn and quartered on the spot. “You can’t tell anyone,” I said with much sincerity.
“I won’t,” Brian promised, resting his chin back on his arms and shifting around in the chair.
“I did something bad,” I started, trying to formulate what I could say versus all that I felt. Confession would have been sweet, sweeter than anything really. But confessing was never easy, it was always something that we seemed to put off – to a friend, to a family member, to a lover. Confession was always next time, it was always tomorrow and never today. Veiled and hinted at and implied, and all the hurt that surrounded with it; you think you can overcome it, like it’s an obstacle and if you keep quiet you’ll be rewarded in some way.
I sighed and then took in a breath. “Something really bad, but for good reasons. Part of me wanted to come clean to him, about what happened – or really, what was happening. But I felt trapped.”