Damaged Goods: The Redemption Series

by L. Wilder

“Oh, you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut or I’ll finish what I started.”

  A burning sensation rushed through my side as the blade sank deep into my lower abdomen. He twisted the knife in his hand while sinking it deeper and deeper into my flesh. I tried to hold back my cries, but the pain was too much. My screams echoed through the concrete walls, causing everyone to scatter like flies. I lay there feeling my life drain from my body, and it was in that moment that I decided I’d never be the victim again.

  It took some work, but I kept the promise I’d made to myself that day. As soon as I got out of the infirmary, the guards put me in solitary for the rest of my stint in juvie. Since they had no clue who had gotten to me, the counselors said I would be safer there. Once my wounds had healed and I was back on my feet, I started working out – hours upon hours of push-ups and squats, along with any other damned exercise I could come up with in the confines of that little room. One of the guards noticed what I was up to, and thinking it would be good for me, he gave me access to the weight room when no one else was around. When I walked out of that detention center six months later, I’d gained the muscle I was after, and that’s when I realized Baker actually had done me a favor.

  It was only two years later when I found myself behind bars for the second time, only now, I was six-foot-four and two hundred and seventy pounds of muscle. I was stronger, mentally and physically, but that didn’t mean the guys didn’t try to fuck with me. It was no secret why I’d been locked up. I was different, knew things these men didn’t understand, and they sure as fuck didn’t like it. Computer hacking wasn’t exactly a crime a typical thug understood, and the unknown brought a level of fear, a fear I learned to use to my advantage.

  It was after dinner, and I was heading back to my cell when my attention was drawn over to the cell next to mine. It was Jacob’s cell, the only person I ever really talked to in this joint. He was a decent guy – for a gun trafficking murderer – and talking to him helped pass the time. When I stepped inside the cell, Tank, one of the Hispanic gang members, had Jacob pinned to the wall with his fingers wound tightly around his neck. I knew I didn’t need any more violations added to my record, but there was no way I was going to let him fuck with Jacob.

  I stepped closer and growled, “Drop him.”

  Without loosening his gripe, Tank turned to me and spat, “This isn’t your fight, asshole. Get the fuck out.”

  “Not leaving until you let him go.” I looked over at Jacob, and though he’d never admit it, he was struggling. The veins in his neck were bulging, and even through all his tattoos, I could see that his face was turning blue. “Now, Tank.”

  His eyes glaring with anger, he snarled, “You just signed your own death sentence, motherfucker.”

  I took a step forward and slammed my fist into his ribcage over and over until he dropped his hold on Jacob. I reared back my closed fist and slammed it into the side of his jaw, causing him to lose his balance and fall back against the cot. He shook his head, trying to shake off the confusion, but I didn’t give him that chance. I grabbed him by the neck, squeezing him tightly around the throat like he’d done Jacob and said, “This is over, Tank. You wanna know why it’s over?” When he didn’t answer, I continued. “Because if you even look in his direction, I will end you. I’ll beat the goddamned life right out of you, make you beg for me to just let you die, and then I’ll fuck with you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. And not just you, Santiago Rodrigues from Fallbrook, California. I will fuck with everyone you have ever known or cared about, and you’ll never even see me coming. Got me?”

  He nodded, and as soon as I released him, he scurried out of the cell like a wounded rat.

  I turned to Jacob. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  As I started back towards my cell, Jacob called, “Yo, Big.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re supposed to be getting out next week, right?”

  “That’s what they’ve been telling me.”

  “You headed back home when you’re released?”

  My mind involuntarily drifted back to my father. He’d always held on to the hope that I’d give up computers and hacking, that I’d find a new focus. I tried, but nothing could surpass the thrill I got from sitting behind that screen. I got a high from pushing limits, ignoring boundaries, and succeeding at things no one else could. It was my obsession, and I was getting better with every click of my keyboard. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one getting better. The world of technology was changing and becoming harder to crack, and one mistake would cost more than it ever had before. My father knew the risks and warned me about them time and time again. After I was arrested the second time, he’d made it clear that I wasn’t welcome back home. He was done trying to make me different.

  “Nope. Nothing there for me.”

  “You should head up to Clallam County. Got some friends there you should meet. I think they could use a guy like you.”

  “A guy like me?”

  “You and your particular skill set might come in handy, but it will be up to you to convince them of that.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “You’re just gonna have to trust me on this one. Go out on Highway 61 and turn left at the fork on Millbrook Road. Drive about five miles and you’ll see an old warehouse off on the left. Pull up to the gate and ask for Cotton. Tell him Nitro sent ya.”

  “Hey, Big.” Wren smiled as she peaked her head inside my room. “Would you mind helping me with something?”

  “Sure.” Wren is Stitch’s old lady. Some would say they are an unlikely match, but I disagree. Wren had a way about her. Without even trying, she could break through the walls we put up and see the good that lies behind them. Stitch is one of the toughest guys I know. He’s downright intimidating at times, but he’s always been willing to do anything to protect the people he cares about. Wren saw past his rough exterior and found the heart hidden beneath. She and Wyatt, and now Mia, have been the best thing that ever happened to him. “Whatcha got?”

  “It’s Wyatt. He’s trying to hook up his new game system in the family room, and he isn’t having much luck. I don’t have a clue how to do it, so…”

  I stood up from my computer and walked over to her. Mia was sleeping soundly in the crook of her arm. She was all dolled up in one of those soft pink outfits with a little pink beanie on her head. Hard to believe Stitch’s kid could be so damn cute.

  “I’ll get him fixed up.”

  Relief washed over her as she said, “I’d appreciate it. He wants to have it ready when Dusty gets here, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “Not a problem.”

  I followed her out into the hall and down to the family room. When we walked in, Wyatt had cords and remotes scattered all over the room. From the scowl on his face, I could see that he was getting frustrated. He bit at his bottom lip as he tried to force the HDMI cable into the side of the TV, and I had to swallow my smile. I’d always seen a lot of myself in Wyatt, knowing his brain worked differently than most, and I understood his aggravation. Like me, he wanted to get it right the first time. “Need a hand?”

  “I can get it,” he grumbled.

  “I’m sure you can.” I walked over to the coffee table and picked up the box with his new PlayStation and said, “I’ve been wanting to check this out for weeks. Stitch get this for you?”

  Without looking in my direction, he answered, “Yes, sir. Made all A’s on my report card.”

  Wren smiled with pride as she said, “He was the only one in his class.”

  “All A’s. That’s pretty impressive, dude.”

  He let out a sigh as he turned towards me and offered me the cable. “Can you do this? I can’t get it to go in.”

  I took it from his hand and slid it into the correct slot. Together, we took the remaining parts out of the box and in a matter of minutes, we had it all up and runn
ing. Wyatt and I settled ourselves on the large, L- shaped sofa and started playing Call of Duty. We were both lost in the game when Wren asked, “Hey, Big. Have you heard from Tristen?”

  “Not since she left.” She’d gone to Mexico with one of her girlfriends for a couple of days. We all understood why she needed a break from the club. She had a thing for Smokey, and while we all knew he didn’t feel the same – including Tristen – it hurt her when he fell for MJ.

  “I thought they were supposed to be back yesterday.”

  “You know how things go in Mexico. Maybe they just decided to stay a little longer.”

  “Maybe,” she answered in a low, concerned voice.

  “I’m sure she’s fine. If we haven’t heard from her by tomorrow, I’ll check on her,” I offered.

  “You’re right. I’m sure she’s okay.”

  “There a reason why you needed her?”

  She looked down at Mia cradled in her arms. “I just wanted to see if she could watch Wyatt while we went for the baby’s checkup.”

  “I can keep an eye on him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I gave Wyatt a little nudge with my elbow as I said, “Gotta figure out how to beat him at this game. Figure it’s gonna take a while.”

  “That would be great. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and if you need anything, just call.”

  “Take your time,” I told her as I tried to return my focus to the game. I was surprised to see that Wyatt was already two kills ahead of me. “Damn, dude. You’re good at this.”

  Never losing his focus, he fired off several rounds against the enemy. “You can catch up. Make your advance, stay covered, and change your weapon. That one is for girls.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I thought you knew that kind of stuff,” Wyatt taunted.

  “Guess I still have a lot to learn.” I laughed as I switched to my secondary and tried to catch up to him. We hadn’t been playing long when Dusty came in. Needless to say, I lost my spot on the sofa and the boys quickly forgot I was even in the room. I sat back in the recliner and smiled as I watched them play. They were good together—two little amigos that had found a friendship that would last them a lifetime.

  Once Wren returned from the baby’s appointment, I went back to my room and got to work. Over the past few months, I’d been busy. The demand for weapons was continuing to increase, and in order to keep up, the club had to make some changes. We’d done well with our shipments in the past, managed to stay under that ATF’s radar, but with the increase in deliveries, it would be harder to stay that way. It was time for us to start buying the parts separately, which would make it easier to ship them without detection and leave the full assembly to be done once they reached Mexico. It was up to me to check out Nitro’s new contacts and make sure they didn’t have any skeletons lurking in the closet. He had his own people for this sort of thing, but he wanted me to be there to double check their findings. Nitro wasn’t a man who took chances, and that’s why Cotton used him. Over the years, we’d established an understanding. We all knew in our line of work there were high expectations and the failure to bring results would bring consequences that threatened to pull us under.

  I’d gone through the first guy with no real red flags, but the second was a different story. I knew right away something was up with him. I picked up my phone and called Nitro. As soon as he answered, I blurted, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me?”

  “About?”

  “Claybrooks.”

  “You mean the cop?”

  “Damn. You had me worried there for a minute.” We’d had our run-ins with cops in the past, each one thinking he’d found his way inside, but none had ever made it very far. It was evident that Claybrooks was working an undercover op, and it wasn’t like Nitro not to smell him from a mile away.

  “Yeah, I thought you could have a little fun with him,” Nitro snickered. “Give him something to occupy his time for a while.”

  “You want me to bury him?”

  “Make an impression.”

  “You got it.”

  As soon as I hung up the phone, I started working on Mr. Jonathan Claybrooks, aka Detective David Keen. I sent a phishing email requesting to run an update on his computer’s security, and within the hour, he’d responded with everything I needed—his password, home address, pin, email addresses, and his social. Once I had that information, there was nothing I couldn’t do. I started with his email contacts, sending evidence of misconduct to his commanding officer and the mayor. It would only be a matter of time before he’d lose his job, but that wasn’t enough. Before I closed out his email, I sent a malicious virus to everyone on his contact list, making sure they all knew he was behind the destruction of their own personal security. I reported his car stolen, triggering his vehicle’s security system to send a remote signal that blocked the engine from starting. Then, I moved on to his bank accounts, completely clearing his checking and savings accounts. After I had his cell phone and utilities shut off, I attacked his social media, slamming his Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram pages with goat porn and golden showers, along with photoshopped pics of him wearing KKK t-shirts and hats – just enough to leave a lasting impression on everyone who knew him. Finally, just for fun, I changed all his passwords and added a required updated pin to each, making it frustrating as hell for him to regain access to any of his accounts.

  I leaned back in my chair and stared at the computer screen with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that I’d just yanked the rug out from underneath Keen. Sure, there was the possibility that over time he could convince people that he’d been hacked and get his life back, but the damage had been done. That element of doubt would always be there, leaving a lasting scar on his reputation. Every time he picked up his phone, each time he logged into his computer or used his debit card, he would remember this day and the panic he’d felt. After today, Keen and all those detective pricks would think twice before they fucked with Nitro again. I was just about to add his name to the possible American terrorist list, FAA No-Fly, and DHS Homegrown, when there was a knock on my door.

  “Yo, Big Mike.” Q’ stuck his head inside. “You heard anything about Tristen? Some chick keeps calling the bar. Says she’s been trying to call her cell but can’t get her to answer.”

  Hearing her name for the second time that day gave me an uneasy feeling. Tristen had been with the club for just over a year. At first, she was just one of the hang arounds, looking for a good time with no real connection to any of the guys, but over time, she started to make herself useful. She did what she could to help around the bar and in the kitchen, and it didn’t go unnoticed. When Cotton found out she was a runaway, he hired her and set her up in one of the rooms at the club. She seemed happy, like the club was her home. It wasn’t like her not to answer the phone, or let us know that her plans had changed. “Has anyone been able to reach her?”

  “Not that I know of. You mind talking to this chick and see if you can get her to chill the fuck out?”

  “Yeah. I’ll see what I can do,” I told him as I stood up and followed him back to the bar. When I picked up the phone and put it up to my ear, the line was dead. “She hung up.”

  “Guess it wasn’t that important after all.”

  “Did she say who she was?”

  “Nope. Just that she was looking for Tristen.”

  “Yeah. I guess I better see if I can figure out what’s going on with her.”

  “Bet she found her some guy down there in Mexico. Liable to just move down there or something. Not like there’s anything holding her here.”

  “She’s got us.”

  “But not in the way she wants. Girls like her will always want more… and honestly, she deserves it. She’s a good kid. Maybe she finally found what she’s been looking for.”

  “Stranger things have happened, but I’ll do some checking just to be sure.”

  “Let me know what you find out.”

  I went back
to my room, and as soon as I logged into my computer, there was a glitch in the screen. To anyone else, it would look like nothing – just a flicker – but I knew all too well what it meant. Someone had synced a rat to one of our servers using a remote access tool. They were slick, but not slick enough to get past me. I picked up my burner and made a call to Cotton.

  When he answered, I said, “We’ve got trouble. You better come check this out.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  As soon as I hung up, I started a counter attack. They’d only managed to crack the outer layer of my security system, so I still had time to stop them before they got into our main database. I started with an intrusion inspection, so I could find exactly where they were located. To do that, I would need their IP address. They were using an encrypted network, so all the traffic was routed through relays, making it difficult to locate them.

  I was still working to find the exact address when Cotton came charging through the door. “What’s wrong?”

  Without looking away from my computer, I answered, “We got ourselves a hacker.”

  “Damn it.”

  Cotton leaned over me, watching as I typed away on my keyboard. Even with him breathing down the back of my neck, I managed to get the IP address. I was surprised to see it was coming from an apartment building only a few miles away. “Got him.” I wrote down the address and handed it to Cotton. “We need to get someone over there, now.”

  “I’ll send Stitch and Maverick.”

  “Make sure they get everything. Computers. Phones. Anything this guy might be using. We need to know what the hell he’s after.”

  Cotton made the call, and once he had everything sorted, he turned back to me. “Got any idea who this guy might be?”

  “No idea. I’m going to do what I can to slow him down, but I gotta tell you… whoever this is, he knows what he’s doing. In a matter of minutes, he breeched my firewall.”

  “You gonna be able to hold him off?”

  “I’ve got this covered. Just let me know when they get back to the club with this guy.”