Extreme Measures

by Kimmie Easley

  “Please come get me.” His voice is thin and shreddy.

  “I am, son. Just tell me where you are. Give me something to use. Brendan?”

  “Ronin!” He screams out.

  “I’m coming for ya, kid!”

  Voices change on the other end of the phone, giving way to Keller’s growl. “Yeah, I knew you cared about the cry baby.”

  “I will kill you, Keller. I swear to God!”

  “The way you killed Pipe. Am I right? Is that your plan? To go rogue and take us out one by one. Let me tell ya, I don’t think your baby bro will hold out that long.”

  “Keller, I’m gonna rip your throat out.”

  “Yeah, well, not sitting there squatting outside my house you’re not.”

  I pivot my neck, craning in all directions, knowing I’m being watched. “Where are you? Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

  He chuckles on the other end, laughing through a high-pitched giggle. “Let’s play a game. Hot and cold, and right now you’re fucking freezing.”

  Click.

  Goddammit!

  *

  I ride for the next ten hours, making a solid circumference, clocking tails onto the members we were able to track down.

  “Nothing else on Keller?”

  I shake my head. “Put two guys on the clubhouse. The rest of us need to head back to Jericho. Something’s not sitting right with me.”

  “On it, brother.” Clint goes back to the crew, huddling up with the plan. I see two bikes vanish with red taillights leading back down the highway toward the Diablos meth-lab.

  The rest of us thunder off in the opposite direction.

  I’ve turned over three different hidey-holes today. I’m tired, hungry, and frustrated. I don’t know if the kid can handle this. Truth be told, I don’t know much of anything about the kid. He’ll probably never be whole again – if he even comes out of this alive.

  *

  I storm through the house after the prospect tells me about the pastor finding Jolene at the grocery store.

  I march through the door, ready to lay into Jo for answers, but I wasn’t prepared to find her doubled over in bed, contorted into the fetal position.

  “Babe,” I say, rushing to her side. “Babe, what is it?” My first thought is Brendan, and it’s not a good sensation in my chest. A tight, squeezing sensation ripping and gnashing at my insides. “Is it Brendan?”

  She winces when she attempts to roll over onto her back. She shakes her head against the fluffy pillow. “No, nothing like that.” She tries to prop herself up.

  “Well, what is it, babe? You don’t look so good.”

  “I’ve been getting sick over the last couple of days. It hit real bad this morning.”

  “Oh, baby, I didn’t know.” I sit on the side of the bed, massaging her shoulder. “Are you ok? Do you need me to call the doc?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. It’s probably just a virus, so keep an eye out and start popping some vitamin C. Well, tell me,” she says, sitting up straighter. “What happened? Did you find any intel?”

  “I don’t want you to worry about that. You let me figure it out. I’ll bring him home safe. How it happens doesn’t matter.”

  Jolene nods and her glassy eyes roll. “Fine.”

  “How are things here?” I wait to see her response before bringing up Klein.

  “I wish I could say it was uneventful.”

  I eye her closely, waiting for her to elaborate.

  Tugging on a loose string from the comforter, she continues. “I mean, the house is quiet. The bitches are keeping up with shit. I’d be better if I didn’t feel like the inside of a fucking buzzard’s stomach.”

  “I’m gonna get you something to take.”

  Jo seizes my wrist. “Wait, there’s more.”

  I remain standing this time.

  “I ran into the pastor yesterday. Well, more like he ran into me. And babe, he was seriously inappropriate.

  “What does that mean?” My heart ices over in my chest.

  She swallows, struggling to keep her composure. Her cheeks flash red, and I know she’s having trouble with the words.

  “Come on, you’re worrying me.”

  “He just said some things.”

  I bolt, pacing the length of the cramped bedroom. “What things?”

  “I really don’t wanna say.”

  That’s it, that’s all it takes. I throw a leg over my sled, and I peel out of the alley in front of the house. There’s only one place to go because there’s only one motel in town.

  Jo tried to chase after me, but she was too weak, grabbing the wall for strength. Probably lightheaded. Instead, she yelled after me.

  I never turned back around. I thrashed through the narrow hallway and out the door. My chest burning and my pulse soaring, causing my temples to ache.

  I bust through the lobby door. “Klein, what room?”

  The pencil-neck man fumbles backwards. “Who?”

  “Klein.”

  “Oh, the pastor. Well, I can’t just give that information out.”

  I snake my arm around his neck guiding him over to the computer, squeezing, I request again. “What? Room?”

  The man pecks at the keyboard with two fingers. “Ok, ok,” he says in surrender. “Room eleven.”

  Eleven.

  It’s thirty steps down the sidewalk before I beat on the door.

  “Hold on,” a voice hollers out from the inside.

  Fuck him.

  I hammer my fist against the splintered door frame, trying to remember to breathe in between.

  The door barely cracks, and I see an opportunity, kicking in the weak, wooden panel.

  “What the hell?” Klein stumbles across the room. “I was expecting you sooner, Steele.”

  “Yeah, I bet you were.” My chest rises and falls with each jagged breath.

  “Have you lost your goddamn mind, pastor?” I spew the last word, mocking the laid-out books and King James’ Version Bible, worn and tattered, sprawled open with pen and paper. “You’re such a fucking joke.”

  “You screwed us over and you know it. We were supposed to leave for Mexico already, and I had to get the guns from somewhere. I needed to get them from Keller to stay on schedule.”

  I have no words for a response. I pull back my bicep and pummel my fist through his face, cracking his nose under the pressure. I haul back and land the second set of knuckles, smashing against his orbital bone. Next, his jaw. I don’t let up until the geek from the front desk fills the door way with his tall, scrawny frame.

  “I’ve called the cops,” he states in a frantic.

  I snap my neck, rising from the floor, stalking toward the man. I see him grip the wall and swallow hard. I flinch in his direction as I pass him, my hand feeling like it’s been stuck in a meat grinder, just like his face.

  “Don’t make me come back here,” I threaten, causing the beady-eyed man to stumble, falling to the concrete walk.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jolene

  I run a few errands with a new prospect to follow this time. If he’s half as scared of a threat as he is of me, I should be good to go.

  I pass by the diner on the way to pick up meds at the pharmacy, and the boarded-up window forces me to stop.

  I hate to walk into the place knowing that Brendan was one of the kids to cause all this damage, but I feel the need to explain.

  “Wait here,” I order the squatty, middle-aged man, vouched for by Stoner.

  He nods and lights up a Raw cone.

  A high-falutin’ pothead.

  “Hey, Jolene. Usual table?” Wendy asks.

  I shake my long locks. “No, I’m here to talk to Daniel. Or maybe Kimmie if she’s here.”

  “Sure, let me get one of ‘em for ya.” She disappears behind a fabric barrier. A few seconds later, the man with the light eyes and braided beard comes forward.

  “Hey, there Jolene. What can I do for ya?” He dries his hands on his apron. />
  “Hey, where’s Kimmie?”

  He scoffs and tugs on his long whiskers. “Oh, she’s in the office, writing her next best seller, I’m guessing.”

  The goofy grin on his face when he mentions his wife of twenty years squeezes at my heart.

  “So, what can I do for ya today?” He motions to a stool sidled up to the counter, and I take a seat where I spend the next half-hour filling him in on Brendan and his rough life, his past history, and sucky parents, leaving out where the kid is now.

  “But, I assure you, he’s going to make restitution. He’s going to make it right. And he knows he was fortunate to get no jail time. He gets a fresh start, handling his responsibilities and making something of his life.”

  Daniel nods, taking it all in as he pushes his black-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well, I do appreciate you coming to me and letting me know. With you by his side, how can he go wrong?” He pulls me in for a side hug, and his words flood my core with relief.

  The prospect snaps to attention, and I throw a devious smirk when I tear out of the parking lot, trying to lose him. I race down the side streets, and he finally catches up when I’m forced to slow down due to the cop parked under the low hanging trees with his radar stuck out the window.

  I feel like I’d just lost the Indy 500, but I would have had to slow down anyway when my cell vibrates in my purse. Rummaging through the bag, I grab the phone. The real one, not the burner, causing me to clear my throat.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ms. Miller. This is Garner from the DA’s office.”

  “Oh, Mr. Garner. What can I do for you?” I hate the way my insides ice over at the thought of having to explain about Brendan missing his first day of community service.

  “I was actually hoping you could come down to my office for a few minutes this afternoon.”

  “Well, that depends. What’s this little meeting in reference to?”

  “I’d rather speak in person.”

  I feel like it’s a setup, but it would be worse for everyone if I didn’t take the bait.

  “Fine, two-o’clock.” I click to end the call, glancing down at my jeans and knee-high boots. I can’t go to the courthouse like this, so I zip back home and duck into my bedroom.

  I find a fresh Ginger Ale and a saucer of saltine crackers. I assume the sweet gesture came from Ronin. He came home late yesterday and in a fit of a mess. Angry and ill-tempered. I was going to needle him until I saw the bloody state of his already bruised knuckles.

  Now, I slip out of today’s casual clothes, tossing them into a pile in the corner. I tie my hair up in a snug bun and step into the scorching hot shower, thinking about the warm soda.

  I just want to put on pajamas and crawl into bed.

  I wash with the Bath & Bodyworks Sweet Pea soap, lathering it up nice and scented, hoping to breathe new life into my tired, aching body.

  If this doesn’t go away soon, I’ll need to make a doctor appointment.

  I throw on a pair of black, tailored slacks and a silk button down to match. Smoothing my hair out, I pull it back off my face, covered with light, natural makeup and a tad of gloss.

  I step outside the bedroom door and run smack into the prospect’s leather.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  I see the sheer panic in his troubled gaze as he bolts for his bike, cranking it up in anticipation, and I stifle a devious snicker.

  He stays close on my tail as I meander down the busy, downtown intersection, parking in the lot directly across from the courthouse. I make sure there’s nothing metal in my bag, throwing it on the slow conveyor belt and stroll through the metal detector.

  The man gives me my tote bag, and I hit the elevator button. I grip the door handle and pull in a deep, lungful of air before opening it.

  “Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Garner,” I say to the woman clacking her long nails against the computer keyboard.

  She gives half a glance. “You can have a seat. Mr. Garner will be with you shortly.”

  She gnaws at my nerves.

  “Can you, please,” I smack my hand on the desk. “let Mr. Garner know that Jolene Miller is here, and if he’s going to summon me, the least he can do is see me on time.”

  Now, she gawks up at me, staring at my audacity.

  There’s a lot more where these came from.

  She punches a button on the phone and speaks in a low volume.

  Ten seconds later, Garner rushes out his door. “Ms. Miller, thank you so much for coming in on such short notice. Follow me and have a seat.”

  I fall into the overstuffed, leather chair with dread in the pit of my stomach.

  I quickly adjust my position, attempting to conceal my discomfort. “Look, I know you’re about to give me a ton of shit. I can explain.”

  “Explain what?” He asks through a perplexed gaze.

  “Wait, what did you call me down here for? Why don’t you start with telling me that?”

  He appears confused. “Ok, well, first, let me just say it was good to see you again.”

  We’ve already been through this.

  “And second?”

  “Second, you’re quite the adversary in the courtroom.”

  I nod, hiding the hint of a pleased smile. “Look, this all great. My ego is nice and fluffed, but what is this all about?”

  He clasps his hands together on the desk, twitching is thumbs. “And that brings me to my final point. What would you say to gracing the DA’s office with your stellar courtroom tactics?”

  I drop my hand to my lap. “What does that mean?”

  “Just what I said. The DA’s office could use someone with your history and background.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, maybe you should take a little time to mull it over.” He snaps his back and sits upright. “Listen, Ms. Miller, this is a really great opportunity. A legit opportunity. I’d hate to see you pass this up.”

  “It would be vastly different, going from defending to locking them up.”

  He nods. “Yeah, you get used to that part. Let me just say, ninety-nine percent of the men and women we prosecute are actually guilty. We do a good job. A necessary job.”

  I hear what he’s saying, and I feel as if my body is floating through the air.

  “So, it’s ok if I take some time. Time to weigh out my options.”

  “I’d be concerned if you didn’t.”

  We shake hands, and I leave, gliding back to the car on cloud nine.

  I don’t expect it, but Ronin’s home. His bike is backed up to the metal fence around the front yard.

  I rush inside. “Did you find him?”

  He shakes his face with a drooped, grim expression.

  “Oh,” I say, slowing my pace.

  “Why you so dressed up? Where’ve you been?” He glances from me to the prospect, and I know there’s no point in lying.

  “I had some business at the courthouse.”

  Some life altering business.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ronin

  “Repeat!” I shout.

  The chaos in the phone’s background slices through my gut.

  Gun fire.

  “Repeat, Troy, repeat!”

  “Under fire, boss! Corner of Baker and Phillips!”

  I tear off out of the parking lot and rip across town. Herc, Bear, and Clint drag behind in perfect formation. I grip the throttle tight, giving it a hard crank, accelerating with intention.

  I intend on killing somebody tonight.

  I hear the crack of a gun and draw my weapon from my waistband. The crew follows. I creep up to the corner of a wooden fence and survey the battle grounds.

  Two bodies down.

  Duke.

  And one of their guys, who I recognize as the handlebar mustache shithead from the church.

  This is the work of the pastor. Like this is the fucking bullshit that I need to be dealing with right now.

  I slam through the fencing,
after kicking my boot hard, splintering the wood. I’ve got my weapon drawn and pointed at the back of the man’s head. The brothers do the same with Herc bringing up the rear.

  With one nod, three pops snap, sending the bodies to the ground, crumpled in one, lifeless heap.

  “Fuck!” Stoner steps out from the shadows. “Sons of bitches took us by surprise.”

  “Goddammit,” Troy says, kneeling beside Duke’s bloody body.

  “Is he alive?”

  “Barely.”

  “Ok,” I start, struggling to pull air down through my restricted windpipe. “Get him back to the bar. Get him patched up. Clint, you’re with me.”

  “Where we headed, Prez?”

  “We fucking ride.” I strap on my helmet and prepare for the long ride. The wind whips against my flesh, slicing like fiberglass shards. We ride side by side all the way to Oceanside. There’s no way that bastard is staying in Jericho after that ass whoopin’.

  I struggle with my long limbs, bending my tired legs after that suck ass stretch of highway.

  “I’m not gonna ask questions, boss. I’m just gonna follow your lead.”

  “And that’s why you’re the VP.” I chuck him in the shoulder, but I’m not feeling the humor. I stroll through the receptionist area toward the pastor’s office.

  “He’s not here, sir.”

  I stick my head into his office. I even slam open the bathroom door. It’s all empty.

  “Where is he?” I ask the trembling woman.

  “I… I don’t know. He left on a vacation.”

  “A vacation, or is he still in Jericho?”

  “Really, I don’t know, sir.”

  I make a quick decision to believe her. “You hear from him, tell him that Ronin Steele is looking for him. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clint is on my heels. Once we’re back in the parking lot, he finally speaks up.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It was him. He sent the shooters. Stupid, old men.”

  “But why would he do that?”

  “Because,” I kick at the rocks. “I stomped my boot in his ass yesterday.”

  Clint spreads his arms through the air. “What? Why?”