HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “Yeah boss,” Jack said as he turned to face Axton.

  “Cut looks good. And about this…” Axton said and shook his head as he gazed down at the floor.

  As Axton glanced up, he continued. “Good lookin’ out, Jack. Good lookin’ out.”

  Jack nodded his head. “Just doin’ my job, boss.”

  An ounce of devotion is more powerful than a lifetime of knowledge or a heart filled with faith. Devotion has the ability to make even the weakest men develop strength, and the fear-filled become brave.

  Jack was devoted to the club, there was no doubt in my mind.

  I was devoted to the club, and to the woman I loved, Sam. If Jack was correct, and Gunner was a cop, he threatened to take the two things from me I was devoted to and truly loved.

  And in no way was I going to let that happen.

  Not without one hell of a fight.

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  SAM

  I sat on the porch with my head in my hands and cried. I had never really cried much as a child or an adult, but I seemed to be making up for it now. The loss of my father as pre-teen was difficult, but I somehow accepted it. The loss of my mother, although untimely and by a very odd series of circumstances, had also been accepted. The loss of her beloved cat, however, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  In my excitement to see Otis’ car, I had left in a hurry, leaving the front door open. After the movie and my trip to the bar, I stumbled to my hotel room in a drunken stupor. Returning to my mother’s house the next day revealed the door had been left open, but my thoughts didn’t immediately include the cat. Only after an entire day of working without interruption did I realize the cat was gone.

  I wiped my eyes and glanced to my side. A dish of food, another of water, and three small stuffed toys sat beside me. I gazed out into the dark yard and attempted to regain my composure. After a moment of sniveling and wiping my tired eyes, I raised my cupped hand to my mouth.

  “Taaaaaylor. Kitty, kitty…Taaaaaylor…come here kitty,” I blubbered.

  I scanned the yard for any movement.

  Nothing.

  As I lowered my face into my hands, my phone beeped. I picked it up and swiped my finger across the screen. A message from Avery revealed her best advice regarding the loss of my mother’s cat.

  I stared down at the screen.

  Avery: Shake a bag of cat food and make it rattle. It works every time.

  After typing a quick thank you response, I set my phone aside and picked up the sack of cat food. It seemed ridiculous, but I stood up and began to shake the sack violently. After what seemed like no more than a few seconds of shaking it, I heard a rustling sound in the shrubbery beside the house, and Taylor jumped onto the porch.

  “Meow…”

  I dropped the sack of food onto the porch and reached down with both hands and picked her up. Immediately, she began to purr. I held her close to my chest, walked into the house, and closed the door. I’d never actually held a cat before and therefore had no experience doing so, but she seemed to like the way I was holding her. I walked to the loveseat, sat down and placed her beside where I was sitting.

  She immediately jumped in my lap, walked in a few circles, and flopped down on her side. As she lay in my lap continuing to purr, she gazed up at me with her golden eyes and blinked a few times very slowly. Within a few minutes, she was asleep. I sat on the couch for some time, thinking of my mother, and what satisfaction she must have received from having the cat as her only house mate. There was no doubt in my mind my mother had loved the cat, and out of respect, I decided I needed to do the same, even if it proved difficult.

  Carefully, I lifted the cat from my lap and set her aside on the loveseat. After cleaning the porch of her food, water, and toys, I walked back to the loveseat and sat down. Still asleep in a ball, Taylor appeared to be unaware or uncaring of the grief she had caused me. I shook my head, grinned, and sent Avery a text message letting her know I had found the cat.

  Tired, relieved, and slightly bored, I opened the browser of my phone and typed a few words into the Google search window.

  What does it mean when a cat blinks slowly

  A screen full of answers popped up, and I clicked on the first one and read the article.

  Slow blinking by a cat (sort of an eyes-almost-closed look, almost trance-like) is a good sign — one that says, “You’re my buddy, and I feel comfortable hanging out with you.”

  I finished the article, tossed the phone to my side, and shifted my eyes toward the sleeping cat.

  After a few seconds of watching her sleep, I reached down and ran my hand along her body. Her fur was soft, similar to the faux fur coats for sale in the mall at wintertime. I ran my hand along her fur again, amazed by the softness of it. She turned her head and opened her eyes. As the slits in the center increased into large black dots, I smiled at her and blinked my eyes a few times.

  Slowly.

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  OTIS

  Axton sat in a chair on Biscuit’s patio staring down at the table in front of him. On the table - a Sig Sauer pistol, Axton’s pistol, a keychain, and Axton’s note pad. The clothes that Gunner had been wearing were in Biscuit’s garage. Although we didn’t find a wire, and Gunner swore he wasn’t wearing one, we had found enough evidence to believe Jack was correct in his assumption.

  The pistol we found in the saddle bag on Gunner’s bike had magazines in it marked “Law Enforcement Only” and his keychain included an elevator override key.

  After several minutes of awkward silence, Axton picked up Gunner’s pistol and walked along the edge of the pool.

  “Do not say a fucking word until I ask you to,” Axton said as he reached the area of the pool where Gunner was treading water.

  “Don’t think for one motherfucking minute that I won’t kill you and make it look like a suicide, you piece of shit,” Axton said as he knelt beside the pool.

  “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and based on your responses, I’ll make a few decisions on what’s in the club’s best interest,” Axton said as he raised the pistol in the air.

  “This is yours, by the way. Just to clear things up,” Axton said flatly.

  “I realize contrary to popular belief you’re not bound by law to answer this question truthfully, but I’ll ask you anyway. Are you law enforcement?” Axton asked without so much as an ounce of emotion.

  As Gunner continued to tread water, he closed his eyes momentarily, opened them, and spoke. “Yes.”

  Axton closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fed?”

  “ATF,” Gunner responded almost breathlessly.

  He had been treading water for at least thirty minutes, and was breathing pretty heavily.

  “Outfuckingstanding. Now, if you’re a fed why are you telling me this?” Axton asked as he opened his eyes.

  “Far as I know…there’s only one way…out of this…and it includes me walking away…from here. Anything else happens and they’ll…come down on you…and the Sinners…like the wrath of God. Let me out of the pool…and we’ll discuss it,” he responded in a broken sentence.

  “Fuck you, motherfucker. Shoot this prick, Slice,” Biscuit hollered as he reached out with the long rod and pulled the pool cleaning net over Gunners head again.

  As Biscuit pushed Gunner under the water for the umpteenth time, Axton shook his head and stood.

  “God damn it, Biscuit, I don’t like it any more than you do, but our options are limited. Let him up,” Axton growled as he pushed the pistol into the waist of his pants.

  “Hear what he’s got to say, boss,” Jack said.

  Axton glanced toward Biscuit and shook his head. “Let him up, Biscuit. He can swim his fucking ass over to the shallow end and stand there.”

  He shifted his eyes toward Gunner and his face changed to one of disgust.

  “Go down there and stand, I’m not letting you get out of the fucking pool,” Axton said as he pointed to the shallow
end of the pool.

  After Biscuit lifted the net from Gunner’s head, he struggled to swim to the other end of the pool. Clearly exhausted, scared, and uncertain of what his future held, I hoped whatever he planned on telling Axton was enough to convince all of us of what he hoped to convince us of. Right now, the majority of the men in attendance preferred him dead. As he waded through the shallow water, Axton barked out his order.

  “Stop right there, whatever your fucking name is,” Axton said as he reached the thigh deep water.

  After Axton walked to the shallow end of the pool and crouched down, Toad, Jack, Biscuit and I followed. Upon our reaching the other end and standing behind Axton, Gunner began to speak.

  “You’ve been my field assignment for two and almost one half years. There’s no one else on this investigation. I swear to you. I had a meeting a few weeks ago with the director, and he’s pissed because I claimed I wasn’t ready to testify before a Federal Grand Jury…”

  Axton interrupted him as he stood from his kneeling position. In his signature I’m not very fucking happy pose, he crossed his arms and flexed his biceps.

  “What in the fuck does this have to do with anything? Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t like cops. You’re a cop. If I took a vote right now, at least four of these fellas would agree to kill you. My math skills aren’t too damned shabby, and that’s eighty fucking percent, excluding you. Damned sure a majority,” Axton said.

  “Look,” Gunner said as he raised his hands in the air.

  “I started investigating you on guns. In the last two years, you really haven’t done anything contrary to law. Might be a stretch, but possibly selling guns to a prohibited person is all I can come up with. To indict you, I need to testify and turn in my reports. Reports come first. If I don’t, there’s no case. Period. End of story. I’ll agree to not testify, how’s that?” Gunner asked.

  “You’ve got to be fuckin’ shittin’ me,” Biscuit said as he swung the ten-foot-long pole from the net into Gunner’s head.

  Whack!

  The pole glanced down across his brow and cut his nose. As Biscuit raised the steel rod over his head, obviously preparing to smack him again, Toad, Jack, and I all stood chuckling at Biscuit’s behavior. Axton, however, wasn’t amused.

  “You no good son-of-a-fuckin’-cop-bitch,” Biscuit howled as he raised the pole. “I’ll just beat you to death if they won’t let me shoot you.”

  “God fucking damn it, Biscuit. Put the pole down,” Axton hollered as he raised his hands in the air.

  “Ain’t happenin’, Slice. These fuckin’ cops, you can’t trust ‘em. Probably got a Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum shoved up his ass as a backup piece. I’m keepin’ the pole,” Biscuit said as he held the pole in his hands like a Lacrosse stick.

  Axton shook his head as he looked down at Gunner, and eventually he began to laugh.

  “Well, don’t hit him with the fucker again unless I tell you to,” he said.

  “I don’t trust you any further than I can throw your fat ass. Don’t think I can agree to that,” Axton said as he knelt down at the edge of the pool.

  “You’ve got two options,” Gunner said. “Kill me, or let me go. That’s it.”

  “Fuck this motherfucker, Slice. He’s tryin’ that cop psycho-babble mind game shit on us,” Biscuit said as he raised the pole over his head.

  Axton raised his hand in the air. “Put it down, God damn it, Biscuit.”

  “Man’s got a point, boss,” Jack said. “We’ve got two options. Kill him, or let him go.”

  Axton, clearly well beyond frustrated, tossed his hands in the air as if giving up. “Well, what the fuck do you four fuckers want to do?”

  “Kill him,” Biscuit said.

  “Same. I say we kill him,” Toad agreed.

  “Want to kill him boss, but it isn’t too practical. Soon as he doesn’t report in, they’ll come to the clubhouse,” Jack said.

  My thoughts mirrored Jack’s. My knee jerk reaction was to kill him, but for some reason I questioned my natural thoughts and considered what might be more sensible, something I had not always done in the past. In matters regarding the club, I almost immediately went with my gut feeling and dealt with the consequences later. I stood quietly thinking, sensing all of the men’s eyes were fixed on me; waiting on my response. I glanced up at Axton, fully realizing it was Sam and my love for her that caused my reservation to murder him, but knew not to reveal my thoughts.

  What it is we love immediately becomes sacred, and we’ll do whatever we must to preserve it.

  “Hand me the gun,” I said flatly as I extended my arm.

  “We need to talk about this, my fucking head’s spinning,” Axton said as he shook his head.

  I rolled my shoulders back, flexed my chest and changed my tone to a very demanding one. “Hand me…”

  “The fucking gun,” I said as I took a step toward Axton.

  Axton’s eyes widened as he took a step back.

  I turned toward the deep end of the pool and stomped toward the table where Axton had been sitting. After grabbing his personal pistol from the table, I slid the slide back and checked to ensure there was a round in the chamber. As I took the few steps back toward the shallow end of the pool, all five men began to speak at once.

  “Shut the fuck up. Every fucking one of you. Just shut the fuck up, especially you,” I said as I pointed the pistol at Gunner.

  Gunner stood approximately five feet from the end of the pool in thigh deep water. As long as my legs were, reaching him in one surprising step wouldn’t be difficult at all. Without a hint of revelation of my thoughts, I leaped into the pool and before he was able to react, grabbed a handful of his hair in my left hand. As I pulled his head back, I pressed the barrel of the pistol into his eye socket.

  “God damn it, Otis,” Axton screamed.

  “Shoot the motherfucker!” Biscuit hollered.

  “Otis!” Axton yelled again.

  “Shut the fuck up!” I screamed over my shoulder.

  I turned my head to face Gunner, and fixed my eyes on his one available eye. As I spoke, I twisted the barrel of the pistol into his eye socket, making the situation as uncomfortable for him as I could.

  “Listen to me, motherfucker, and listen good. I’m not like these other four fuckers. I’m the quiet one you need to worry about. You’ve been here two and a half years, so you know I’m the protector of this fucking MC, regardless of who wears the SAA patch,” I growled.

  “You’ve got one opportunity to answer each question I ask. One. If you don’t, I’ll pull this fucking trigger,” I said as I pulled the hammer of the pistol back until it clicked into place.

  Axton’s pistol was a double action H&K, and didn’t require that I pull the hammer back to fire it. Pulling the trigger without pulling the hammer back required a lengthier pull of the trigger, and more force. Pulling the trigger with the hammer cocked required minimal effort. Some called the trigger effort required in this position a hair trigger, because all you had to do to fire the weapon was move the trigger a hair, and with his ATF training, Gunner would know this if anyone did.

  “Otis!” Axton screamed as I cocked the hammer.

  “What’s your God given name?” I demanded.

  “Allen. Allen Pintler,” Gunner coughed.

  “Current place of residence,” I grunted.

  After no more than a long second of silence, I pushed the pistol into his eye and closed my eyes.

  “Wichita. Right here in Wichita,” he cried.

  “Got a wife and kids?” I asked.

  “Uhhm. I uhhm, yeah. I have a family,” he blubbered.

  Good, then this should be easy.

  “You’ve got one option and one option only, and I’m going to explain it to you. You’re going to get out of this pool, dry off, get dressed in some of Biscuit’s clothes, and you and I are going to go to your house in Biscuit’s truck. You’re going to prove to me that it’s your house by showing me your fucking mai
l, pictures of you with your fucking wife, and pictures of you with your kids. Your kids old enough to have laptops?” I asked.

  “What? Laptops?” he muttered.

  “Easy question, motherfucker. Do your fucking kids have laptops?” I growled.

  “Yeah, they both do,” he snapped back.

  “Alright, again, listen carefully,” I said as I changed my voice to a calmer tone.

  “You’re going to allow us access to their laptops, and we’re going to put a LoJack on them, just to make sure you don’t try and run anywhere. We’ll track your kid’s whereabouts, and we’re going to put one on your bike and your personal car as well. And we’ll track you. You either refuse to testify to the Grand Jury, or I’m going to kill your wife and kids. It’s that simple. This isn’t a threat, it’s a solemn promise. If I’m going to spend life in prison, it isn’t going to be on your terms, it’s going to be on mine.” I paused and raised my eyebrows, giving him a moment to consider what I had said. “You agree to these conditions?”

  “Oh fuck. Uhhm, yeah, I agree. Don’t hurt my kids, just don’t hurt my kids,” he sobbed.

  “It’s all up to you, Special Agent Allen Pintler. It’s all up to you,” I said as I pulled the pistol away from his face, lowered the hammer, and extended my right arm back.

  As I continued to hold his hair in my left fist, someone took the pistol from my grasp. I released his hair and walked to the corner of the pool. After walking up the steps and onto the deck, all eyes were fixed on me.

  “Sorry, Slice. It was the only thing I could think of,” I said.

  Axton shook his head and grinned. “LoJack’s? Where the fuck did you come up with that?”

  “Got one on my car and my laptop,” I said. “They work good; you can track them in real time on the internet.”

  “Get out of the pool,” Axton growled as he handed Toad the agent’s gun.

  “Toad’s going with you. Toad, if he tries anything, and I mean anything, do whatever a war torn Marine thinks is best,” Axton said.