Quietly, he said, "Your Mommy is sleeping... again!"
A tiny whimper sounding from beneath the blanket caught Colt's attention.
"Oh, none of that... She'll be up soon, spoiling you to death."
Colt placed the tiny bundle down, laying it in a basket that held the stacks of blankets that Averi and Shelly had knitted for the baby. The blankets rumpled but the whimpering had stopped.
Colt carefully approached Averi with a smile on his face. It is amazing how much calmer their life was without the threat of Black Horse. He didn't relish extinguishing the life of another, but it had to be done. Colt refused to bring his child into a world where his monster of a father existed.
Colt watched Averi as she slept and his heart was at peace. No regrets, no pain - all he needed was right here. They were finally married with a baby on the way. Everything was right in their world. Colt bent down and swept Averi's chestnut waves from her face with his rough, calloused hand. Leaning in, he gave her a kiss on her cheek and turned to go into the house.
***
The loud shrill of an electric guitar assaulted Colt's ears as he stepped inside the house. The living room was in total disarray with bins and boxes everywhere. Randy was singing along to Guns 'N Roses' power ballad, November Rain. Colt stared at his brother-in-law with a horrified look upon his face. Randy's falsetto screeched like a failing alternator on its last leg.
"Jesus, don't quit your day job..." Colt said making fun of Randy's horrifying vocals.
"This is my day job," Randy said referring to the freshly painted walls.
He threw his paint brush in the pan and a couple specks of ivory paint splashed against the hardwood floor. Randy glared at Colt with an agitated look on his face. This was nothing new. Randy looked at everyone like that.
"The painting is... The singing not so much."
“Oh, what?! What do you want now?!” Randy yelled staring at his cell phone. His ex was calling… again.
Colt stared at Randy as if he was certifiably insane. Some days, he really had to wonder.
“Stephanie mad about your boy band dismissal this morning?”
“No, it’s Cheyenne... again!”
“It’s your own fault… you make these women nuts!”
“I’m just going to ignore it.”
“You’re going to make it worse. What if it’s important?”
“Trust me,” Randy said with an aggravated look on his face, “It’s not.”
Randy threw his cell phone on the counter and let Cheyenne’s call go to voicemail.
“Don’t you at least want to listen to the voicemail?”
“Why?”
“You went out with her for six years.”
“And?”
Colt nearly responded but suddenly held his tongue and shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind. When she shows up here…”
“She’s probably outside with a pair of fucking binoculars,” Randy quipped earning a chuckle from Colt. "So anyway, is the house move-in ready? From what I remember, it was fairly neglected?" Randy questioned, clearly in the mood for a different subject.
"Yeah, Tim and I have been down there everyday getting it ready. We completely gutted the downstairs. You won't even recognize it."
"Great. Where the hell is Tim, anyway?"
"On his way. Had to pick up Shelly on his way over."
"Good, because we need to get as much done tonight as possible."
"Why, got a hot date tomorrow?"
"Yeah, with your TV set."
"So you really are living in your grandfather's workshop... Twenty friggin feet from my back door."
"Hey, I gave up my share of the house. The least you could do is deal with me living in the workshop... And it's not a workshop anymore! It's my bachelor pad."
"Your glorified man cave."
"Exactly. But until we can get the cable hooked up, I'm watching the game on your couch."
"Whatever, you buy the beer, though... and when I say it's time to go, you go."
"Yeah, yeah..." Randy said waving Colt off. "I can't wait to see what I have to fix in this house..."
"Weren't you listening?! It's done!"
"We'll see what I have to fix behind you two jokers..."
"You're not the only one who knows how to use a hammer around here... Keep it up and I won't fix your truck."
Randy raised his eyebrow looking defeated.
"Well played, McClain. Well played. Is she still out there sleeping?"
"Yeah... not sure I like her being out there alone, though..."
"Would you rather her inhale the fumes? She is six months pregnant. You gotta learn to relax sometime..."
"Not when it comes to her."
"You guys make me sick. Blech!" said Randy, pretending to vomit into the kitchen sink.
Colt smiled and shook his head, "One day, Randy... You'll grow up and be a man."
Randy swung his head around in shock with a look on his face that said, "I can't believe you had the balls to say that."
Before he had the chance to come back with a sharp one-liner, Colt had walked away flicking through the mail that had arrived that day.
"Bill... Bill... Mary Kay Catalog... Bill... NRA Newsletter...Letter from the Law Offices of Kelter, Peterman and Reis."
"Kelter?!" Randy exclaimed as the name echoed through the room. "He was my father's partner at the law firm..."
Colt didn't say anything, he simply gulped. He thought he knew what it was about. It was addressed directly to him and was labeled as time sensitive in bright red ink.
"What the hell does he want?"
It's the will. It's got to be the fucking will, Colt thought. Though Black Horse didn't have much walking out of the jailhouse, he had money squirreled away. The result of his many scams and schemes that he pulled.
"Damned if I know. I don't have time for this right now. I'll deal with it later," said Colt as he threw the letter into a box that Randy had labeled “Random Shit” and sealed it with packing tape. The tape screeched as Colt sealed it over the box flaps.
"You don't even know what it is! It could be a friggin' check!"
"I have a pretty good idea what it is."
"Probably a bill. Wasn't he broke?"
"God, no. With all the stunts he pulled? He never had to pay rent in his life because he jumped from bed to bed, getting over on anyone he could."
"Open the damn letter..." Randy pushed.
"No! I don't want anything to do with it!" Colt yelled, effectively closing the conversation as he slammed the box labeled "taxes" on top of the mountain of boxes that were stacked in the middle of the living room.
"Dude, you got issues..." Randy said as he went back to painting the wall. His cell phone lit up again, but he didn’t bother checking it.
Just as Colt turned around with a raised eyebrow and an irritated look, he heard a high pitched squeal sound from the porch. Randy's face took on a "What now?" look.
"She must have found the surprise I left her..."
"Another surprise? At least we know you didn't knock her up again," said Randy with a snide smile.
Colt bit his tongue as Averi walked in the house with a pint-sized puppy wriggling in her arms.
"Colt! He's so cute!"
"Dude. You bought her a puppy the day before a big move?"
"Made her happy, didn't it?"
"You spoil her rotten."
Colt shrugged and replied, "As I should. Now shouldn't you be painting?" Colt asked sarcastically, ticking Randy off even further.
Averi ignored the bickering, or as Colt called it, playful banter, as she cooed over her new furry friend. Colt brought her home an English Bulldog with a brown patch over his left eye. He was a playful dog with a raspy bark and a happy face. He had a simple blue collar wrapped around his neck with a silver name tag that read Barkley McClain.
"Barkley..." Averi said aloud.
"Do you love him?" Colt asked grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh, my Go
d, yes!"
"Someone to protect Mommy and baby while I'm at the shop."
"Have I been fired as the guard dog?" asked Randy feigning offense.
"Maybe, at least the dog won't drink my beer."
"I can arrange that... We can be drinking buddies..." said Randy, joking.
Averi's face scrunched up as she yelled at her brother, "You will do no such thing!"
"What?! I was kidding!" A roll of packing tape went flying in his direction. Randy continued, "Well I was!"
"How old is he, Colt?"
"Only three months. He's a baby."
Suddenly, the front door swung open and Tim and Shelly strolled in, mid-conversation.
"Baby, I know you're a big tough guy, but that don't mean that I won't worry when you're in the ring with a MMA fighter."
"Shell... I am an MMA fighter, too... and a Marine. I think I'm okay."
"But Tim! You haven't been in the ring in over a year."
"I'm in training. You act like I go fight tomorrow."
"I'm still worried."
"I know!" said Tim as he laughed at his worrywart girlfriend.
"Don't laugh at me!" Shelly yelled as her cheeks went red.
"He'll be alright, Shell... He's an animal in the ring," Randy said.
"Yeah, he's a tough old teddy bear..." said Averi gaining an embarrassed look from Tim.
"Ave... You're destroying my credibility!" Tim said.
Randy and Colt began to laugh hysterically.
Colt blurted out, "Tim the Teddy Bear... now that is a bad ass ring name."
"Oh, get over yourself Tim," said Averi as she laughed.
Suddenly, Barkley jumped from her grasp and ran around her feet. Barkley nipped at Tim's feet and attacked his laces.
"Where'd you get this vicious predator?" Tim asked, cracking a joke.
"That's Barkley," said Averi.
"Enough about the dog... Can we eat?!" Randy asked.
"All of my cookware is packed... How about we go to a restaurant."
"A restaurant?!" Randy asked sounding dejected.
"What the hell is wrong with a restaurant?" Colt asked looking at Randy like he had five heads.
"He's gotten spoiled with all my home cookin'!" Averi announced.
Colt patted Randy's toned gut. "So I see!"
"How about Patton's?" Shelly asked.
"I guess it'll do," said Randy sounding depressed.
Averi laughed at him, "Aww, don't worry Mr. Grouchy! You'll get home cookin' soon enough!"
"You promise?" Randy asked as his stomach growled.
"It should only take like a week to unpack all of this stuff..."
"A week?!" Randy exclaimed.
"Come on, Randy..." said Shelly as she patted him on the back. “I'm sure they'll have some meatloaf or country fried steak..." Shelly rolled her eyes at Averi as she led Randy and Tim out the door.
"Let me just get my jacket," Averi said calling to the others.
Colt grabbed her denim jacket out of the closet and helped her put it on. Before leaving the house he took one last look around before closing the front door.
Chapter Four
“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t shoot you dead on the spot!” a raspy voice cried out over the crowd.
Seventy pairs of deep set eyes stared at Jimmy Hearns from the dining hall of the Pine Cress Steak House. Jimmy was surrounded, the Seventy Devils encircling him like vultures narrowing in on their prey. Jimmy Hearns did not look phased, though. The Pine Cress Steak House. To the public it appeared to be a restaurant that never took flight, but people in the know identified it as headquarters for the Seventy Devils motorcycle gang. They had no interest in helping to keep the peace in Oakeley like some other clubs did. Civic unrest and anarchy is what made their blood rush. And here they were leaderless, and without direction, so as expected, hell was breaking loose. Robberies were up. Drug use – up. Violent crimes – way up.
Sitting in a leather wingback chair in the center of the dining room, Jimmy was holding court. It wasn’t the Devils who had summoned him… Jimmy had brazenly requested his audience. Jimmy leaned back in his chair, a cocky half-smile forming across his face. He was dressed head to toe in black with tailored black slacks, a fitted black t-shirt and a pair of black steel-toe motorcycle boots. His bare arms were covered in sleeve tattoos and his forearms showed off his newest ink, a black horse’s head in memory of his deranged father. He spoke with a voice that slithered through the room, weaving through the men like a ghost. No one liked Jimmy Hearns much… but Jimmy wasn’t out to be liked… he was out to be respected and to pick up where his father had left off.
“I could give you a hundred reasons not to kill me right off the top of my head,” Jimmy said in a firm voice. Something about him was different. Firmer. He wasn’t the thin, wiry guy that got picked on in bar fights anymore. In the months since Black Horse had died, he had bulked up, his rage acting as a great motivator. His gaze was cold as he glared at the men. He took a puff of his cigarette and blew smoke towards Rusty Prescott. Jimmy laughed as the old man waved the smoke out of his face.
“Did I say somethin’ funny, son…? I said give me one fuckin’ reason-” the old man griped but was cut off by a wave of Jimmy’s hand.
“Reason One? You’re looking at the only loyal son of Black Horse. The one that actually wants to help you sorry fucks exact revenge of my father’s murderer. Reason Two? Being that I was the only son who was loyal to him, I now own this establishment and the cash that flows within.”
The crowd was in an uproar. Seventy faces grimaced with rage. Fists in the air, screams echoing through the room.
“What the fuck do you mean you’re Black Horse’s son?!”
“He only had one son!”
“Colt’s his son and we sure as FUCK don’t want him up in here!”
“You OWN our headquarters?!”
“The cash flow… What about the cash flow?!”
“Hearns, you better keep your greedy hands off my blow.”
Jimmy smirked at the crowd with a raised eyebrow. He stared into the eyes of each man, amused at the level of hostility that permeated from their gaze.
Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a raspy voice interrupted him.
“Rumor has it his estate has not been finalized,” Gunnar Rhoads said. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. When Gunnar spoke, you listened.
He was a tall man, covered from head to toe in intricate tattoos. Celtic knots weaved across his fair skin. He had a shamrock with his mother’s name Siobhan striking through it. And across his neck he wore the permanent insignia, “Óglaigh na hÉireann,” which stood for the Irish Republican Army. Born in Ireland, he came to the states only five years ago and he was notorious for his nasty temper.
“You’re right. It hasn’t… but when it has, you will bend to my will.”
“Til you show us the deed, get the fuck out!”
“So a band of lawless idiots running themselves… with no intelligence… no money… and no leader.”
“This dude thinks he’s hot shit,” Trent choked out.
“And what do you propose we do?!”
“Seeing as how I have secured the cash that Black Horse kept locked in my mother’s basement, the choice is simple. Either, go broke or be prepared to bend to my will.”
“Bend to your will…” Trent said in a facetious tone.
“And before you get any ideas… The money has been moved from my mother’s house.”
Trent’s face fell. His intentions were visible on his face.
“Are you prepared to lose the drug business? You know the Barreo Boys would be happy to scoop up that business.”
“Do you got a fuckin’ plan, or do you plan to just come in here, shift your weight around and shit all over the place?!” Rusty yelled.
“Get our revenge… carefully. I want the killers dead just as much as you do, and I know who did it.”
All eyes w
ere on Jimmy.
“Hearns you better start talkin’!”
“The name’s not Hearns anymore… It’s Jimmy McClain… and the men we are after are Colt McClain, Randy Ford, and Captain Shawn Hall.”
“Give us one good reason why we should even bother listening to anything you have to say. You blew your chance with us! Instead of helping us corner the girl, you were off tryin’ to get in her pants!”
Jimmy shrugged, uncaring.
“Get the fuck out and come back when you have the deed!”
Broken Road Page 2