by Nicole Fox
“Fine,” she said with a groan. “Let me put some stuff together, okay? Like clothes?”
He gave her a reassuring squeeze, saying, “We'll get this worked out, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
# # #
“Mom? You here?” Danny asked as he pushed open the front door and led Sara inside the small house.
“Danny? That you?” his mom called from the kitchen. The sound of a chair pushing back across linoleum sounded at the back of the house and a somewhat frail-looking old woman came into the living room. “Who the fuck's this?” she asked, not sparing Sara's feelings.
“Sara Taylor. The, uh, woman I told you about yesterday. The one Thorn told you about?”
So, his mother knew about them. But, Sara couldn't tell how much she knew. She didn't exactly want to tell his mother how they'd originally met. And, she imagined Danny hadn't told her either. No one wants to tell their mom that they're paying to impregnate some woman.
Her eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount as she appraised Sara and simply said, “Oh. Heard some about you, Sara. Not much, though. My boy's not the talkative type, is he?”
Sara could feel the judgment already, in the way his mom looked her up and down, in her tone of voice. She was silently weighing whether or not Sara could handle their world, could handle being with a man like her son.
“This is my mom.”
“Call me Cathey.”
Sara raised a weak hand in a wave. “Hi, Cathey.”
“Mom, I gotta leave Sara here with you, okay?”
“What? Why? What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
He put his hands out in an almost placating gesture. “Look, Mom, we're going out to get Jed back. Things have sort of escalated, and the less you know the better. Meantime, Sara needs to stay here with you. Make sure you stay safe.”
Cathey Reynolds snorted, clearly an old hand at this kind of thing. “I remember hearing shit like that from Pops all the time. Should've known I'd be hearing it from my own son one day.”
He gave a lopsided, half-hearted grin. “Well, you were right, I guess.” Cathey harrumphed and turned to go back into the kitchen. The chair scraped again in the other room as Danny turned to Sara and grabbed her hand. “Alright, babe, I gotta go. Once this is all sorted, I'll come get you, okay?”
Sara nodded. There wasn't much of an option to do anything else.
He gazed into her eyes. They had changed. Gone was the icy blueness. Instead, there was longing and a hint of fear. Fear that she might be injured, might be hurt by these other men. Fear that he might lose her.
She squeezed his hand.
He leaned down, kissed her softly. This wasn't a kiss like before, a kiss like when they were pawing at each other's clothes, desperate to get out of them. This was soft, sensual, caring.
Her heart leaped, sped up as his mouth brushed hers so softly.
He clenched her hand back, holding back his strength so he wouldn't hurt her. Their kiss broke and, still holding her hand, he touched her cheek. “I'll be back, okay?”
She knew he would be. She nodded, smiling, wondering how things had changed from their original pact. This was supposed to be just about getting her knocked up. He wasn't meant to touch her like this, to hold her hand so tightly and warmly.
“Okay,” she whispered back. “I'll be waiting.”
What the . . .? Did those words just come out of her mouth?
He smiled and left, shutting the door behind him.
Her knees were almost knocking together from weakness. Sara turned, and looked at the old house she was going to be staying in for the next couple days. Danny's childhood home. She leaned back against the front door and touched her cheek.
This affection, this caring . . . none of this was supposed to be part of the deal.
Out front, he started his bike up and rode away.
# # #
Danny
“This the place?” Thorn asked as Danny signaled him to pull the pickup over.
“Yeah,” he said. He paused a moment, waiting for Thorn to park the pickup, before continuing. “He was in that back alley over there.”
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets, and the streets were deserted. Which was a problem. If they were going to try and find Jed, they needed people they could actually ask.
“Lemme go inside this hardware store and ask if they've seen him around,” Thorn said. “Maybe someone will recognize him.”
“Sounds good,” Danny said, as Thorn got out and ran through the rain to the front door of the hardware store, arms up protectively over his head.
“Don't worry,” Karl said encouragingly from the backseat, “we'll find him.” He was dressed up in what he thought a college kid would wear. Jeans, the local school's t-shirt, and normal sneakers. His hair wasn't tied back, but instead was a unruly mob of long, brown curls.
Danny bit the cuticle of his thumb and grunted. “This rain's just not going to help, that's all. Goddamn weather.”
He'd promised his mom they'd find Jed and bring home, but the odds looked like they were against that. He felt dead inside, to have come this far, just to not be able to find him because of some fucking downpour.
They sat in silence in the cab of the truck, waiting. Soon, Thorn came tumbling out of the hardware store and ran stomping through the puddles of water back to his truck. He was dripping with rain and the smell of wet biker filled the air when he climbed back in the cab.
“Anything?” Danny asked.
He shook his head. “When the weather's like this, clerk said all the junkies disappear from the block. Said it seems like they got some other place they go.”
“Like a flophouse, maybe?” Karl piped up from in back.
“Yup,” Thorn said. “Maybe some place they can all shoot up?”
Danny chewed away, nodding. “Okay. So, what next? Go up to the campus?”
Thorn shook his head. “Didn't you say you and your ol' lady – sorry, Sara – swung by some house out here? Got some kind of information from there?”
Danny nodded, realizing where he might have been going with this. “You think they might know?”
Thorn shrugged. “Maybe. You got any better ideas?”
Danny and Karl both shook their heads. “Wish I did,” Danny replied.
“Well, let's go then,” Thorn said, starting the pickup. “Weather ain't getting any better just sitting parked here.”
Chapter Eighteen
Danny
They pulled up in front of Quentin's place ten minutes later. There was another car sitting out front, an old Ford Focus. But, other than that, the street looked empty.
“How you wanna play this?” Thorn asked.
“I'll handle it,” Danny said.
“You sure? Karl could go as backup.”
Danny shook his head. He needed to do something, needed to work off his frustration. Between just sitting around, the rain, and the swirl of emotions he felt about Sara, he needed to get up and move. In the truck, with his ass parked in the passenger seat, he was just chewing his fingers down to worried nubs.
“Nah,” Danny said, “you guys stay here as backup, in case he tries to run or some shit.”
“Probably a good idea,” Thorn agreed. “Dealers are shifty.”
“Don't worry. I got an offer he'd be stupid to refuse.”
Danny climbed out of the pickup truck and ran up the walkway to the front door. He resisted the urge to pound out his frustration on the front door, and instead did the same as Sara had done the first time.
After a little while, he heard movement on the other side of the door. “Yeah?” called a voice.
“Quentin, right?” Danny called back. “Me and Sara Taylor, we came by the other day looking for a guy? I was the one on the bike.”
“I recall,” the voice said. “Don't hear her with you this time, though. Whatchu need now?”
“Need some help finding one of your rivals.”
“I'm listening.�
�
“Open the door up, man. I'm getting drenched out here, and I bet you don't want the neighbors seeing me on your front porch for too long.”
“Fine, fine, man. Hold on.” Quentin unlocked the deadbolts and pulled the door open. He was wearing just a pair of loose cotton pajamas, with no shirt to cover his scrawny body. “Come on in, man.”
The filthy smell hit Danny like a city bus, almost sending him staggering as he stepped into the crackhouse. He still couldn't believe that Sara knew this guy, or was aware that this place even existed. The whole thing just didn't jive with his view of her as little Miss Prim and Proper.
There was an old, filthy couch that reminded him of one he and Jed had found out in the countryside when they were just kids, playing in the woods. Only difference was that this one had a half-naked, strung out looking girl that couldn't be more than seventeen passed out on the soiled cushions.
“Ignore my junkie,” Quentin said as he shut the front door behind Danny, “and step into my office.”
The drug dealer led him over to the small kitchen table that was set off in the corner, and each took one of the folding chairs arrayed there.
“I'm looking for some people,” Danny said as he sat down.
“Yeah, your girl Sara, she asked me about a guy. You ain't found him yet?”
Danny shook his head. “Found him the first time, but he's not around anymore cause of the weather. Guy at the hardware store told my buddy that there's an apartment over there where they go to shoot up. You know the place?”
“Might.” Quentin crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. “Why would I tell a guy like you something like that, though? Those guys up in that place, they're all bikers and shit. Don't you motorcycle guys stick together? Why don't you find out from them?”
“Bikers, huh? What club?”
“Club? This some girl scout bullshit?”
“Their vest?” Danny asked, tugging at his own to illustrate. “What was the picture on the back of their vest?”
“I dunno, some kinda dog. What were those things in Lion King? Laughed all the time and shit. You know, Whoopie played one?”
“A Hyena?”
“Nah, not that.”
“A Jackal?” Danny asked, the urgency and excitement clear in his voice. “The Free Jackals?”
“Yeah, yeah, that,” he said, waving his words off. “Gotta fucking jackal on their vest.”
“Jackals weren't in the fucking Lion King.”
“Whatever, man. That's what they call themselves.”
“Well, why don't you give me the address? And me and my buddies will go over and pay them a visit? Can't imagine you like the added competition.”
“How do I know you ain't gonna try and fuck me over on this?”
“How could I screw with you on this?” Danny asked. “Seriously?”
Quentin shrugged. “I dunno. You could.”
“Just give me the goddamn address,” Danny said in a painfully even voice, his eyes narrowed, “and I'll be on my way.”
Quentin's eyes narrowed in return.
Danny had no qualms about beating the shit out of this guy. What was he going to do? Call the cops? That was a laugh, right there. Guys like this and the Fallen Knights had at least one thing in common: they understood not to get the cops involved. That was just opening the door to a whole mess of trouble no one wanted to deal with.
“Fine,” Quentin said after a few tense seconds. He spat out the address of the rival flophouse, apartment number and all. “Don't tell 'em where you got that, ya feel me? Don't want no more bikers knocking at my door if they ain't customers.”
Danny waved him off. “Believe me, we ain't going there to talk.”
That got Quentin, the weasel-faced little bastard, to smile.
Danny stood up from the table and headed for the front door, satisfied that they had what they needed. At the very least, the skeezy drug dealer's tip was a start. If they couldn't find Jed there, they'd just have to try something different.
“Hey,” Quentin said from behind him, “you tell Sara for me that it was good seeing her the other day.”
“Uh,” Danny said back over his shoulder, stopping in his tracks as he opened the front door. “What?”
“She's hotter than her momma ever was, and that lady was fucking fine,” he said, drawing out the last word to an excruciating length
Danny's world went crimson at his words. He slowly turned back around to face the skeezy dealer. “What did you just say?” he asked as he dropped his hand from the door knob and let it swing open a little.
“Bet she fucks like crazy, too. Her hot momma always did when her pocket book was empty.” He glanced towards the girl on the couch and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “All them junkie girls are like that.”
Danny's world turn into one of blood-soaked rage at the mention of Sara's name. He was across the living room in three steps, the front door swinging ajar behind him. Quentin didn't have time to squeak before Danny's forearm was across his throat and pushing him back to him against the wall.
“You keep her name out of your fucking mouth, motherfucker,” Danny roared as he pressed down on his windpipe.
Quentin squealed like a pig as he tried to get away.
Danny brought up his knee twice, getting him in the stomach and groin. He threw a punch in the same spot, knocking the wind out of him.
The dealer slid down the wall to the floor, fell over on his side and tried to shield his face. Danny wasn't done, though.
He bent down and rolled him over, settled on top of him so his knees pinned Quentin's arms to the ground. He set to, wailing on him with his fists. “Never, ever, ever,” he continued, each word punctuated with a strike to the face, “say her fucking name again.”
“Danny!” yelled Thorn from behind him as he and Karl came running through the living room and wrapped him up in a full nelson. “What the fuck, man?”
“I'll fucking kill you,” Danny roared, flailing one last time as Thorn and Karl yanked him bodily from the drug dealer's chest and pulled him to his feet. Thorn's arms were locked up in his, immobilizing him. So, he kicked out, clipping Quentin in the side with a big biker boot and sending him flinching away.
“Mention her again, Quentin. I'll fucking kill you!” They dragged him out of the shithole of a flophouse, his legs flailing as he continued to threaten the dealer.
“What in the fuck was that shit?” Thorn bellowed as they pulled Danny out into the rain.
The falling precipitation struck his body, its arrhythmic beat seeming to drag him out of whatever craze he'd been in. He shook his head, clearing the rage. “Sorry, Thorn. Sorry.”
“We wanted to get the fucking address, not beat him to fucking death!” They each grabbed him by an arm and led him back to the pickup. They opened the cab and tossed him inside, with Thorn going around to the driver side.
“I know!” Danny yelled, “I'm fucking sorry!”
“Did you at least get it?” Thorn yelled as he climbed in.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Sorry, man. I just lost my shit in there.”
“What was that, anyways?”
“Nothing. Motherfucker just started popping off at me. Running his fucking mouth about Sara.”
“Well, you gotta learn to control that temper of yours,” Thorn grunted as he started up the truck. “Your daddy had the same goddamn problem, and it always got him into trouble, too.”
“I know,” Danny said, rubbing the back of his bruised and bloody knuckles, “I know.”
“'Sides,” Thorn said with a wry grin. “thought Sara wasn't your ol' lady.”
“Just . . . lay off, Thorn. Let's get over there and find Jed.”
# # #
This apartment was almost as big of a shithole as Quentin's place. Trash littered the ground, cars that were little more than junk heaps filled the parking lot, and paint was peeling off the siding on all the buildings. The complex looked like the kind of place that got two to th
ree 911 calls on a slow night, and five or six on the weekends. Seven, probably, around the holidays when money got tight and husbands started to get punchy with their wives over Christmas spending.
They'd settled on a plan while the three of them were still packed in Thorn's pickup truck. Karl would knock on the door and get them to open up for business. Thorn and Danny would be around the corner and out of sight, waiting for their opportunity. The plan might have been simple, but that just meant it didn't have as many chances to fail.