by Zoey Parker
The gun pulled back and my eyes went to the face of the man holding it. He was wearing a terrifying porcelain mask painted to resemble a jolly face with smiling red lips and rosy circles on the cheeks. The eyes that stared out from within the mask blazed with insane hatred. He had a bizarre three-pointed hat on with ribbons and bells dangling from it. When he moved, the bells jittered around without making a sound.
It was him. The monstrous gangster Rafe had told me about. Jester.
He'd found me.
Jester pressed the huge gun against my left knee. The hand that held the black gun looked like it was encased in solid gold. Behind Jester, I could see Angelo and the other gunman from the alley, leering at me. They had blood all over their suits and their faces were painted to resemble horrifying clowns. Maggot's bullet-riddled corpse was lying face-down at their feet, his blood and brains oozing into the carpet.
“You know what we want,” Jester's muffled voice insisted. “Tell us where it is.”
I suddenly noticed that I was naked, even though I thought I'd remembered going to bed with my clothes on. I stared at them helplessly, tears streaming down my face. Did I know what they wanted? Was it just that I couldn't remember? I was so confused. “Don't hurt me!” I begged. “I don't know!”
The gun in Jester's hand went off with an apocalyptic thunderclap, the muzzle flash reflecting dazzlingly against the golden hand that held it. Oddly, there was no pain, but I felt my kneecap explode into a thousand shards of bone. I looked down and saw that the gunshot had been powerful enough to detach my leg at the knee.
I started to scream. The door to the room opened and I looked over, hoping it was Rafe coming to save me. Instead, the old man from the next room stood in the doorway, shaking his head with a mixture of sadness and anger. “Told ya to keep that racket down,” he grumbled. “Now look at ya.”
The gun pressed against my right knee. “Where is it?” Jester asked, tilting his head to one side inquisitively. Before I could answer he pulled the trigger, blasting off my other leg, lighting up the whole room with another golden flash. I looked down at the stumps as they gushed blood onto the blanket.
“Might improve the look of it,” the old man said. “The smell, too, for that matter.” Chucky appeared behind him, nodding solemnly.
Jester pressed his gun against my left shoulder. “Where is it?”
“Milwaukee!” I blurted out. “They said you'd know where!”
Jester shook his head slowly and pulled the trigger again. Another thunderclap, accompanied by a golden blaze like sunlight. My shot-off arm was laying on the bed next to me, still twitching as it bled.
I shrieked Rafe's name at the top of my lungs, pleading for him to save me. Angelo laughed. “Rafe's right here for you, doll!” he said, nudging Maggot's body with his shoe. It flopped over onto its back and I saw that the dead face was Rafe's.
I felt something press hard against my right shoulder and yelped, waking up. Rafe had been nudging my shoulder, and when I cried out and sat up, he jumped back a bit. “Jesus! You okay?”
I looked down to make sure I was dressed and in one piece. “Yeah,” I said. “Just a nightmare. A bad one.”
Rafe nodded. “After everything you've been through so far, I ain't surprised,” he replied. “But hey, I've got some good news for you, at least. There's been no sign of any Mancusos, so it looks like they're not chasing us anymore. Since they've got no way of knowing who you are, it should be okay for you to head back to Chicago, as long as you keep a low profile.”
I couldn't believe it. “Oh my God. So it's really over? I'm safe?” I asked.
“You should be, yeah,” Rafe agreed.
I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. “Good. My boss is probably wondering why I didn't show up for work today, but I can still smooth that over as long as I come in today.” Inwardly, I was already trying to invent a plausible-sounding excuse. I realized that this was probably the last thing that should have been on my mind, but I couldn't help it. This was my first job. If I got fired from it, I was worried that I'd never find a second one.
“A couple things, though,” Rafe added. “Don't tell the cops or anyone else what you saw. Don't even tell your close friends.”
“I, uh, don't really have any of those,” I said.
“Also, don't go to any bars or clubs, in case the Mancusos happen to be hanging out there,” Rafe continued. “I'd even stay out of fancy restaurants for a while, too. Especially Italian ones.”
I couldn't help but laugh at that. “I never go to bars or clubs,” I said. “They're not my thing. And I don't go to many fancy restaurants either, since I can't afford them.” Inwardly, I kicked myself. I was making myself sound like a completely boring person at best and a shut-in at worst.
Rafe smiled. It was the first genuine smile I'd seen on his face and I liked it a lot. Even though he looked young, the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit. I thought about our almost-kiss last night and felt myself blush. I had expected myself to come to my senses in the light of day and stop fantasizing about him. Instead, the fantasies kept spinning in my head—our bodies pressed together, his lips exploring mine.
I'd never had these kinds of thoughts before about someone I'd just met, and in the context of the gunshots and chases, they had initially seemed like bizarre symptoms of shock. But now that he'd told me the danger seemed to be over, looking into his brown eyes and feeling myself want him seemed perfectly natural.
“Okay, so no bars, no clubs, and no fancy restaurants,” Rafe ticked off. “So what kinds of places do you like to go, then?”
“Actually,” I confessed, “I like to go to little no-name diners. There are so many of them in the city, even twenty-four-hour ones. There's something so comforting about the big laminated menus with the pictures, and the smells coming from the kitchen, and the fact that you can get a greasy breakfast at any time of day. Whenever I'm lonely or I can't sleep, I just slide into a booth with a good book and order pancakes and a milkshake, or a big sloppy burger with fries. The waitresses all call me honey or darlin', and the other customers leave me alone. I love it. Sometimes it even feels more like home than my real home does.”
Rafe smiled again. Perversely, now that it this adventure was about to be over, I felt like I was going to miss the chance to get used to that smile. The thought gave me a weird twinge of regret.
“Well, how about this?” Rafe offered. “There's a diner just up the road. I've been there a couple of times, and I can personally vouch for how big and sloppy the burgers are.” I giggled, and his smile widened as he continued. “So how about I treat you to a nice, artery-clogging breakfast, and then give you a ride back to Chi? After all the shit you've had to deal with, it's the least I can do.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “That sounds perfect.”
At last, I thought. Everything can go back to normal.
Chapter 13
Rafe
After the weirdly-close moment I'd had with Jewel after she'd stubbed her toe, I wasn't able to sleep any more, which was good. I was already cursing myself for dozing off in the first place when I was supposed to be looking out for the Mancusos.
Still, I had my handgun right next to me and I'd always been a light sleeper. All it would have taken to wake me up was a hand trying the doorknob, and I'd have been up and ready. Plus, I knew Chucky would be awake in the front office, watching out for headlights and suspicious-looking people.
By the time the first rays of sunlight peeked around the curtains, I was starting to feel pretty damn certain that no one was coming for us. If the Mancusos had been that serious about finding us, they'd have sent their guys to poke around every motel up the highway and they'd have reached us by now. My guess was that at this point, they were probably mostly concerned with keeping Angelo out of jail by trying to establish an alibi for him.
That, or maybe I'd even inadvertently told the truth when I told Jewel the Mancusos could buy off the cops and judges. Again, Chucky hadn't been able t
o confirm or deny that. But if it was true, they wouldn't need to waste time and manpower combing the highway for us. They could just let it drop, and if Jewel ever did come forward—which she hopefully wouldn't do—they could deal with her then.
I wanted to believe there was more that Jewel could tell me to help me find Jester, but I was positive I'd gotten everything I was going to get from her. Part of me wondered if I just wanted to convince myself otherwise because she was so fucking hot.
I'd caught myself starting to think about what she might be like in bed, or even out of it. Most civilian chicks who'd been through this kind of nightmare would have completely fallen apart, but she'd kept it mostly together despite the one panic attack, and she'd even managed a joke last night. That was impressive.
Then again, I'd been in prison for seven years with no one to fuck but myself. I hadn't even treated myself to some tail at my coming-home party. I was probably just hornier than I wanted to admit and it was making me drool over the first hot girl I spent any real length of time with. Once this was over, I told myself I'd find someone slutty to lay for a night or two just to clear the cobwebs. After that, I'd probably never give Jewel another thought.
Yeah, an unexpected voice in my head smirked. Right. Sure. You'll just forget all about her. Just keep telling yourself that, stud.
While Jewel was still asleep, I snuck out of the room, closing the door gently behind me. I walked back to the main office, keeping one eye on the door to our room at all times. Before I reached the door, it opened and Chucky poked his head out.
“Restful night?” he asked.
“Hardly,” I chuckled. “See anything weird?”
“Nope,” Chucky said. “No cops, no Mancusos. Only other folks we had show up last night were a couple newlyweds, too drunk to make it home from a party. Good thing they pulled in here 'fore they caused a wreck or somethin'.” He hocked and spat, then dug his pinky in his ear and twisted it around. He pulled it out, looked at it expectantly, grunted with disappointment, and wiped it off on the seat of his overalls. “So now what, boy? You stayin' on the lam with the girl?”
“Nah,” I said. “Looks like the stuff with her has blown over. I'll get her home and then go try to finish this thing with Jester.”
“An' that's it?” Chucky asked disbelievingly. “You ain't never gonna see her 'gain after that?”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Why? You gonna call dibs if I say yes?”
Chucky cackled. “Yeah, maybe 'bout twenny years an' a hunnert pounds ago,” he said. “Naw, it's just when you been runnin' a motel as long as I have, ya start to get a sense of these things, is all. I saw you two show up, an' yeah, clearly there was some kinda shit hittin' some sorta fan an' things was tense. But there was more to it between you, too. Almost gave ya a room with one bed 'steada two, that's how sure I was.”
“Well, good thing you didn't,” I smirked, thinking of what a bummer it would have been to spend the night on the fucking floor. Suddenly, I remembered something. “Hey, by the way, do you know if Jester's got any places up in Milwaukee? Clubs he's a silent partner in, or fronts to launder money, that kind of stuff?”
Chucky scratched the stubble on his chin, thinking it over. “Well, nothin' I've heard of,” he mused. “He mostly sticks to Chicago fer that stuff, since it's easier for 'im to keep an eye on.”
“Shit,” I said. “That's what I thought. Thanks, though, Chucky.”
“Now, that fella Maggot, he's a different story,” Chucky added. “You remember him? Nasty little piece a' work, always nippin' at the heels of Jester an' them other Mancusos an' tattlin' between 'em every chance he got.”
Maggot again. That was interesting. “What about him?” I asked.
“Nothin', 'cept that settin' up shop in Milwaukee was his thing. Soon as the Mancusos promoted that slimy fucker to soldier 'steada piss-boy a couple years back, it was all he could talk about. He was gonna open a place for 'em in Milwaukee, he was gonna make 'em a shit-pot fulla money, an' blah blah blah. They finally gave 'im some scratch to set up a nightclub up there. The Flytrap, he called it. Pretty much ran it into the ground. Fuckin' asshole.”
If Chucky hadn't been Chucky, I think I might have actually kissed the bastard. Finally, a solid lead. Whatever Maggot had that Jester wanted, he'd almost certainly stashed it at The Flytrap. Maybe I could find a way to grab it and use it to draw Jester out.
I quickly considered my options. I needed to get to Milwaukee, but I couldn't drag Jewel along with me. But time was against me since Jester's men might already have passed us on their way to Wisconsin, so if I took the time to bring Jewel back to Chicago, there'd be no way for me to beat them there and I'd be back to square one. So unless I could snap my fingers and magically transport myself to The Flytrap...
That gave me an idea. I couldn't make myself suddenly appear there ahead of Jester's boys, but I could do the next best thing.
“Chucky, can I use your phone?” I asked.
“Go right ahead, boy,” he replied. “I'll keep an eye on yer room.”
I walked into the office, picked up the phone, and dialed a Wisconsin number. The War Reapers' main chapter was based in Chicago, but there were a few smaller chapters scattered around the Midwest. There wasn't one in Milwaukee, but Madison had one. Their chapter weren't as badass as ours was, since Madison wasn't particularly rough territory. Still, we'd been on a couple runs together years ago, and they'd usually do us favors when we asked them to.
A voice answered, “Snoops here.” I remembered Snoops as a chubby, cheerful Reaper with a long red beard and a cartoon dog tattooed on the side of his neck.
“Hey, Snoops, it's Rafe Logan. Dunno if you remember me, it's been a while...”
“Sure, I remember you!” Snoops exclaimed. “You went on a run with us about nine, ten years ago, right? You were the guy who did all those crazy stunts and shit. Man, we still talk about that!”
You guys must get pretty bored, I thought, smiling. “Yeah, that's me. Listen, I know we ain't talked in a while and I hate to hit you up for a favor...”
“No problem, pal!” Snoops said. I couldn't remember if all of the Madison War Reapers were this chipper. I guessed that they might be. They spent most of their time riding around on weekends and doing charity runs. The most hardcore thing they did was deal dime bags of pot to college kids.
“Thanks,” I said. “I fuckin’ appreciate it. There's a nightclub in Milwaukee. It's called The Flytrap. Can you ask your guys to ride over and stake it out, just until I get up there? Keep your patches hidden and try to stay out of sight. It shouldn't be more than a day, tops.”
“Yeah, that doesn't sound like it'd be a problem,” Snoops said. “What kinda stuff are we looking for?”
“Gangster stuff,” I answered. “Specifically, anything that looks like someone coming to hold up the place and steal something from it. I realize that sounds pretty vague...”
“Nah, I get the picture,” Snoops said. “I'll grab a couple guys and head out there now. If we see anything, we'll give you a call. Is this your number?”
Fuck, I thought. I forgot to pick up a burner phone. I'd better get on that after I drop Jewel off. “I'm between phones right now,” I told Snoops. “I'm gonna grab one in the next couple hours, though. When I do, I'll give you a buzz.”
“Cool. See you soon,” Snoops replied. “Oh, and say hi to Bard for me, okay?”
I felt a stab of guilt as Snoops hung up. He'd naturally assumed that this was official Reaper business, and I hadn't said anything to make him think otherwise.
Still, I was relieved. With Snoops and the Madison Reapers holding things down up there, I could afford to take my time a bit.
I walked out of the office and headed back to the room to wake up Jewel. Just a quick ride back to Chicago with her, and I could get back to getting revenge.
Hell, I was feeling so good, maybe I'd even take her out to breakfast first.
Chapter 14
Rafe
&nb
sp; I grabbed the duffel bag from the room and we rode Rosie up the road to Ham's Diner. It was a squat brick building that used to be a filling station and convenience store until the bigger gas companies drove it out of business in the '90s. When it re-opened as a restaurant, the owner had erected a giant fiberglass fist over the door holding a knife, fork, and spoon. Since then, weather and road dust had steadily soiled the fist, and now it was almost black with grime.
Lots of people told Ham he should take the ugly thing down, but after seven years upstate, I was happy to see that he'd kept it up anyway. When I used to come here before my stretch in Potawatomi, I'd fantasize about the big fist coming loose and squashing some asshole who left without paying his bill. The thought still made me smile.
The rusty old bells above the door jangled as I opened it for Jewel. I usually wasn't big on the whole chivalry routine, but it looked like she was finally starting to chill out, and I figured she'd appreciate a nice gesture or two. Part of me was still half-tempted to ask for her phone number after dropping her off, but I knew that was crazy. Since meeting me, she'd been chased and shot at. I doubted she'd be into going on a date with someone who reminded her of all that.