Extreme Measures

by Kimmie Easley

  The kitchen is packed with patches and bitches. The table is full of beer cans and coffee mugs.

  “Hey, guys. I didn’t know anyone was still here.”

  Tammy stirs a pot, simmering on the stove. “We thought you guys might be hungry. Started some soup and soft, grilled cheese sandwiches for the boy.” She makes eye contact, and I grip her forearm as a silent thank you.

  “And what about you guys?” I turn to ask Clint.

  “We aren’t leaving the boss,” he states matter of factly.

  I nod, and he returns the gesture, warming my heart.

  “Sit, doll. And let me get you some tea,” Bonnie says.

  “Make it coffee, and it’s a deal.”

  “Done.” She smiles and turns to the freshly brewed pot.

  I sit down next to Patsy, and Tammy places a diagonally cut sandwich in front of me, along with a steaming bowl of spicy, tomato soup.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, and she grins.

  I nibble on the cheesy crust, dipping it in the savory liquid. Sometimes, a good grilled cheese is all you need to make things seem slightly better.

  “You guys are fucking great.” I say it before I can stop myself.

  “No, doll. We’re just family.” Tammy’s words bring moisture to my tired eyes.

  Family.

  It makes me think about the job offer. The DA’s office and my family are polar opposites. My family is made up of outlaws.

  Hell, we couldn’t even risk taking Brendan to the hospital.

  How am I supposed to take a job as a prosecutor and be head of the bitches at the same time?

  “Hey, you got a minute?”

  I’m lost in my thoughts when Val pops up in my ear from behind me, causing me to jump and send my metal spoon clanking against the ceramic, soup bowl.

  “Oh, um, yeah. I guess.” I get ready to rise, but she squats beside me with no apparent need for privacy.

  “Why are you trying to keep me from my son?” She’s blunt and to the point.

  “Because he needs to rest, and you make him…” My voice trails.

  “Upset? Is that what you were gonna say?” Val asks, with her hand on her round chin.

  “More like agitated.”

  “Well, that’s not your call.” She tries to shove past me to make a move down the hall. I grab her by the bicep and swing her around.

  “You’re not going in there.”

  “And you’re gonna stop me?” She snickers and steps to the right.

  My gut boils with annoyance and it finally tips the scale. I chuck her by her shoulders, straight into the wall when everything moves in a fast-forward motion, blurry and quick.

  I must have won the fight because I’m standing over Val’s crumpled body. My cheek burns, prompting me to touch my fingertips to my face, surprised to see blood.

  “That bitch scratched me,” I say out loud.

  Jessa steps forward, glancing down to my feet. “Shit, it’s about time.”

  “Don’t encourage her.” Ronin steps out from the hallway. “Babe, the kid wants to talk to you.”

  “Like this?” My eyes squint. “I can’t see him like this.”

  “Here,” Patsy hands me a paper towel. “Come on, now. You’re fine.”

  Prosecutor Miller, catfighting champion.

  I look to Ronin and he nods, sliding out of the way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Ronin

  Jolene wants to know more. She wants details, but Brendan and I have decided to spare her that daunting pain.

  She stands outside the bedroom door, with her hand on the knob when she turns to face me.

  “Is he ok? Like, really?”

  “It could have been a hell of a lot worse. Here, babe. I can’t believe he’s sitting in the next room, fucking breathing.”

  “But, shouldn’t I be worried about retaliation?”

  I graze the broken gash on her cheek and she inhales sharply. “You sure you’re the one to be talking about retaliation?”

  “Dammit, don’t make me laugh. It makes my cheek hurt.” I slap him in his chest.

  I’m really just trying to dodge the question. I can’t tell her my plans. “Ready?”

  She releases the lungful of air before she nods, and I turn the knob, pleased to see Brendan awake.

  He’s trying to appear strong, but I can see past the pain. He’s worried about Jolene. He cares for her. For his new family.

  “Hey.” He pushes himself up straighter.

  “Hey, you. They’re heating up your food in the kitchen. Still hungry?”

  He rubs his non-existent gut and nods. “Hell yes.”

  He sounds just like Ronin.

  “Good. An appetite is a good sign. You’re too skinny.”

  His face immediately contorts with sadness, and I know he’s having trouble getting the words out.

  “Brendan has a confession.” I shove both hands in my pockets.

  “Oh, yeah?” She darts her gaze from my face over to the kid. “Well, go ahead then.”

  His neck moves when he attempts to swallow. I can see they’re both uncomfortable, and I just want to make it easier on them.

  “Go ahead, she’ll understand.” I try to give him an opening.

  He twitches his dimples, then lifts his gaze to meet hers. “I stole from you.”

  His blunt admission sends her back stiff and rigid. “Um, I’m listening.”

  “I snuck back into the bar when you guys had that reception thingy.”

  I notice when she steers her gaze towards me before looking back. “And?”

  “And, I stole the bag with the money in it. The one from the desk.”

  I want to tell him I’m proud of him for coming forward, but I don’t want to confuse the situation.

  Brendan breaks the silence. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Well, thanks for that. I appreciate you telling me the truth. That takes a lot of courage.”

  She glances up at me, then back to the boy. “So, I have a question of my own.”

  Now, Brendan pivots to glance over at me. I don’t have any words, so I shrug, nodding.

  “Ok?”

  I recognize the way she softens her posture, resting a light hand on his covered leg. “What did you plan on doing with it? With the money? Because it was an awful lot.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He lowers his chin, gazing at his hands. “I’m not proud of it. I just wanted to get her some help.”

  “Who?” I cross the room, leaning against the window pane.

  “I don’t wanna say.” He curls his fingers up in the sheet. “It was for my mom. I just wanted to get her some help.” A tear strays, slipping past the corner of his eye when he blinks. “I tried calling some rehab places and they’re all so expensive. There was no way we could come up with the money on our own.”

  My chest tightens, gripping, gnashing at my heart. I feel weird.

  Odd.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Seeing his broken face twisted with so much emotion is like a dull knife to the gut. Like always, Jolene has mercy on my weak nature.

  She scoots up from the foot of the bed to sit next to Brendan, making hard, strong eye contact. “I want you to hear me and hear me good when I say this. You are a good kid. You’ve been given a really shitty hand. You made a bad decision. That’s it. One, bad decision. That’s the past. Today, we’re just focused on getting you better.”

  “But…”

  “Hey, you spoke up, told the truth, and although it’s not how you go about it, your reason wasn’t motivated by selfishness. You had good intentions, and I’m proud of you for coming forward.”

  There. She said it, and I’m relieved that I don’t have to.

  *

  “Do you really have to go?”

  I tip her chin, guiding her face up to meet mine. “Babe, we’ve talked about this. I have business to tend to.”

  “What kind of business?”

  I drop my hand to my side. “Now,
that’s gonna remain my business.” I turn to start filling my pockets with shit off the dresser.

  “Please tell me you’re not going to find Keller?”

  I widen my straddled stance. “My business.” I pull her to me, leaving a long, heated kiss behind on her questioning lips. “I gotta go, babe. I love you, and I’ll be back soon. Take care of that boy.”

  “I love you, too,” she says, and I carry the four words heavy in my chest.

  Minutes later, I crank up the sled and leave the main house in my mirrors. I choose to take Herc, Clint, and Stoner on the run, leaving the rest of the brothers behind to stand guard.

  The entire plan was laid out three days ago in the chapel.

  Everyone knows his job, and I head up the club’s formation, tearing up the asphalt. Blood and adrenaline course through my veins with purpose.

  We’re getting closer.

  My pulse speeds through my chest and up to my temples. I glance behind me and check the crew. I know they weren’t all on board, but they follow my instructions.

  Prime soldiers.

  The first stop, the Diablos’ clubhouse.

  We back into a spot behind some brush, sitting on the apartment complex. It’s been three days, but I doubt Keller’s traveling alone.

  I wait a full half-day before seeing the leather cuts emerge from the basement staircase. Four soldiers and Keller. It looks like we’re down a man.

  I check with my brothers, receiving a curt nod from each before we prepare for battle.

  Stoner gives me a thumb’s up, and I know he’s ready.

  Just as the five sleds gain speed up the hill, Stoner squats beside the road, pulling the tack strip tight across the pavement.

  It all happens so fast.

  Tires squeal, skidding across asphalt before popping. Metal scrapes across the street, followed by deep, baritone of screaming.

  Before they have a chance to compose themselves, my crew rushes the scattered bodies in the mass wreckage, weapons drawn.

  Keller drags his brain bucket off his head and spots me towering over him. “Well, shit.” He tries to prop one knee and rise to a standing position, but I decide I like him down there, kicking his leg out from under him, sending him into a full face plant.

  The action causes his crew to snap to attention, ready to brawl.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t.” Clint points his gun at one man’s head, stomping his boot through his gut.

  Stoner does the same to the second, taking him out in his kidneys, and Herc has the last two pinned against a tree with his gigantic hands.

  “Stand down,” Keller tries to shout, but his voice cracks, and he spits out a mouthful of blood. He’s still snickering. “Can I?” He asks, plucking a cigarette from his chest pocket.

  “Help yourself.”

  He knows what’s coming.

  He lights up a smoke, and I allow him to enjoy a few drags before I press my weapon to his temple.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  The question causes his men to buck. Two get loose and Stoner pulls his gun, shooting both. Herc dares his last, temporary prisoner to move, and the man shoves his hands in the air.

  Keller takes another puff, groaning from the pain from the road rash. “You know, I did let the boy live.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have taken him in the first place. Family is off limits.”

  “Yeah, guess I lost sight of that. Make it quick.”

  “That, I can do.”

  I nod, and he closes his eyes as I squeeze the trigger.

  We don’t waste much time, simply tossing them off the main road half a mile. Stoner calls Troy for a truck to clean up the carnage. He brings a couple of prospects with a toy hauler, and it takes no time.

  Next stop, Oceanside.

  I don’t bother with the church, or the good pastor’s house, not wanting witnesses like his wife and children. Cheating bastard. I’ve had Billy doing recon over the last week to track his daily routine.

  I have a plan, and it includes an alley behind a barbershop.

  It’s Monday and Klein will be going in for his weekly trim. He leaves the church right on time, and I notice the cargo truck and realize they’re getting ready to make another run to Mexico.

  We follow him through town, heading straight to the shop. He pulls into the alley and finds his usual space to enter through the back door. When he climbs out, the crew pulls in blocking both exits.

  “What’s this all about?” He backs away with his hands up by his still bruised face.

  I eyeball Herc, and he tosses me the baseball bat, not wanting it to look like club violence when the cops investigate.

  “We got some business to tend to, pastor.” I swing the bat through the air, sending him cringing.

  “Look, if this is about the gun trade, we can talk that out. Come on.” He stumbles. “And… and if it’s Jolene. I already took the beating.”

  “Let’s just say a little of all the above,” I cast my first real swing, connecting with his left shoulder.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jolene

  I’m not awake for thirty minutes before my head is stuck in the porcelain bowl, and I’m emptying all the coffee I chugged for fuel. I’m sluggish and lightheaded again. I was ok earlier, but it came back out of nowhere.

  I hug the cold tile against my flushed cheek.

  “Honey, I think you need some food in your stomach.” Patsy pulls my matted hair back from my face.

  The thought makes my insides quiver, and my mouth floods with saliva. “Oh, God. No.”

  “Ok, ok. Want to get back in bed?”

  “No, please. Just let me lie here. I think I’m dying.” I know it’s an exaggeration, but it feels appropriate.

  I just want to sleep – right here, forever.

  I must have been able to doze off, because I wake up still on the bathroom floor, covered with a light sheet, and Patsy must have placed a pillow under my head. I push myself up, relieved to find that my stomach’s feeling a little better. My throat burns from vomiting, and my head is foggy. I stand but have to brace myself against the wall when I feel faint, but I manage to shuffle over to the bed.

  Jessa pops her head in the door. “Hey, you awake?”

  “Yeah, where’s Brendan?”

  “He’s eating lunch with the others in the bar.” She plops down in the rocking chair.

  “Everyone gone?”

  She nods, “Yeah, the only ones left are our chapter. No one wants to go home, not until you feel better.”

  “Uhh, shit.”

  “It’s family, Jo. It’s what we do.”

  I dare to ask. “And Val?”

  “Yeah, she’s still here. Never more than two feet from the kid. He looks like he’s still fucking kidnapped.”

  “Dammit.” Frustration builds in my chest. I throw back the blanket and reach for my jeans.

  “Where are you going?”

  I look my sister in the eye. “I have to go talk to Val.”

  “You’re too sick.”

  “I have no choice.”

  She stands. “Look, I’ll tell her to come in here. Anything else I can do besides calling to make you a doctor’s appointment? And don’t give me any shit about it either because you’re going.”

  “Fine. That’s it.” I roll my eyes, but it only makes my head hurt.

  She disappears, and a few minutes later Val gives a loud knock on the door.

  “Come on in,” I say, happy when she pops the tab on a can of warm Ginger Ale.

  “Damn, thanks.” I take a sip, and it’s a relief to my parched throat.

  “Jessa said you wanted to see me?”

  I nod, “Yeah, I did. How are things?” I try to evaluate her eyes, but she refuses to make contact.

  “Good. Can we, uh, make this quick? I want to get back to my boy.”

  “Well, it’s about that.” I prop myself up against the pile of pillows. “Brendan needs a lot of rest.”

  “Yeah, I know.”


  “So, if you know, then you know he needs his space. He doesn’t need stress or anything that makes him feel he has to be on his guard.”

  She cocks out a denim-clad hip. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You need to back off. Leave him alone until he comes to you. If you can’t do that, then you’ll need to leave. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes,” she says flatly.

  Jessa strolls back in. “Everything good in here?”

  “Yeah, I think we’re done.” I eye Val when I say it, waiting for her to leave. She finally takes a hint and exits the room with a new, huge chip on her shoulder.

  “What was that about?” She asks, closing the bedroom door.

  “Just watching out for Brendan and she doesn’t like it.”

  “Well, moving on. Get up and get dressed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she says, grabbing random shit out of my closet. “You have a doctor’s appointment. And we need to be out the door in five minutes.”

  “Ugh,” I whine. “No time for a shower?”

  She freezes, staring at me. “Didn’t you just hear me say five minutes?”

  *

  My hair’s still damp from the three-minute shower when we pull up to the medical center. Jessa insists on going with me, and we fight for a parking spot in the packed garage.

  “It’s probably just a virus.”

  “I don’t care. It’s been going on too long,” she says, and I can’t help but agree with her.

  I sign in at the front desk before having a seat next to my concerned sister. We sit in silence watching an ancient cooking show on PBS. I have to stifle a giggle when I notice how intrigued my older sister is by the dry humor, engrossed in the baked brie appetizer.

  “Miller,” a nurse calls from the side door.

  We both rise, and I’m forced to tell Jessa that she has to wait in the lobby.

  “Fine,” she says, sitting back down and throwing one leg over the other.

  It doesn’t take long for the nurse to run through her standard questions.

  Why did you come in today?

  How long has this been going on?

  Any new changes?

  “Ok, the doctor will be right in,” she says, leaving me alone, but only for a few minutes.