Hawk

Just about the only good thing that came out of this three-day trip south is that we finally decided to grab one of the cholos we need information from, since we weren’t getting it any other way. The not so great news is that he’s not talking. Just like none of those Vagos ever do.

But this one is tied up to a chair and he’s already lost so much blood there’s a pool of it at his feet. The guy’s face is unrecognizable, and I’m not even sure he can speak anymore even if he wanted to.

Scar’s knuckles are bloody and swollen and he’s about to lose it, since he hates fruitless torture sessions even more than I do. In his case, it comes down to wanting to know the beating and the torture was good for something. For me, I just hate failure. If Doc was here, he’d have him stop beating the guy by now, unless the goal was to kill him. The goal is fast becoming that, and Doc’s not here. The guy’s totally unreachable, and I understand why Cross is worried, but that problem will have to wait for another day.

The longer this guy holds out, the longer I’m still gonna have to stay away from Yanna. And it’s been three days already. If he doesn’t talk, we’ll have to find another one and repeat the process of beating info out of him, which could well take another three days.

So it’s time to kick it up a notch. I don’t like doing it this way, but these motherfuckers should know we mean business by now.

I take the photos I procured earlier, when it started to look like Scar’s fists weren’t doing the job, and walk over to the guy, careful not to step in the blood. The guy can barely focus his eyes on anything, but they’re full of arrogant hate when they finally see me.

“Juanito, I hate being here almost as much as you,” I say slowly, and I’m happy to see he’s still with us as his eyes turn very angry.

Scar knows what he’s doing. He hits them hard enough to hurt and bleed, but not so hard that they loose awareness. That’s why it’s always such a long game with the ones that won’t talk, and so hard to know when it’s too much. They all talk in the end, everyone fucking knows that. I just wish someone sent that memo to this guy.

“Well, maybe not for the same reasons as you,” I respond to the arrogant question mark in his eyes, chuckling like it’s all very amusing. “But I got places to be, just as you do. The hospital in your case, if you’re lucky. So let’s make sure you get there.”

I show him the first of the photos. It’s of his wife, holding their baby. “Pretty lady. I’m sure she wants you to make it to the hospital. In fact, I’m sure they both do. But none of you will make it to the hospital before it’s too late, if you don’t tell us what we want to know. You catch my drift?”

He gives me a sharp look that’s kinda soft at the edges like he’s hoping I’m not saying what he thinks I’m saying. I am saying exactly what he thinks I’m saying.

I show him another photo. “They want to stay alive too.”

This photo is of an aged woman with long white hair, and a slightly younger one with her arm around the old one’s shoulders. I assume they’re his mom and grandma, and they’re both smiling for the camera. There’s nothing soft about the look he gives me now. It’s pure hate and rage, and Scar is bristling beside us, probably itching to beat that look out of his eyes. That’s how it is with him. During every torture session, his base violence instincts eventually kick in and I have to be here to rein him back in.

The guy in the chair knows I got these photos from atop a cupboard his in living room. He should be afraid, I can go back there any time I want to and carry out the threats I’m making. We’re not really in the habit of killing women and children, and we try to avoid it at all cost, but the rumors about us, the rumors I make damn sure spread well, say different, and this guy doesn’t know any better. Time to kick it up another gear.

“Abuela here’s gonna know it was her grandson who made her die choking on her own blood, instead of peacefully in her sleep like she should,” I say and I swear he just turned paler, though it’s hard to tell with all the blood and bruises covering his face. “So just tell me what I want to know and we’ll call it a day. Or night, actually, because it’s getting real late.”

There’s only a fraction left of the defiance his eyes were full of before I started talking, and it’s growing fainter by the second now.

“What kind of deal do the Vagabundos have with the Russian mob?” I ask sternly to speed him along.

He coughs, blood spraying everywhere, including all over my white t-shirt, and it starts to look like he’s not gonna stop, but then he does.

“The Russians came to us about six months ago,” he says in perfect English, even though the fact that we spoke the same language wasn’t readily evident until now, since he spent most of this session cursing us out in Spanish. “They’re new to the West Coast and they want to enter in a big way.”

This is the prelude to the very last thing I wanted to hear from him. But now there’s no pretending anymore, not after what he just said.

“Go on,” I urge, since he fell silent again.

“They want your MCs weapons running business,” he says, and looks positively scared now. More scared than he looked when we brought him into this room almost ten hours ago. I guess he thinks he’s never getting to the hospital for telling us this.

“And the Vagos were gonna help them get it, is that it?” I ask, since he seems to need some more prodding.

He nods. “We’re gonna split it with them fifty-fifty.”

I laugh. “That’s generous of them.”

I glance at Scar who is chuckling too.

“Not that it was ever gonna happen, and it’s certainly not gonna happen now,” I say seriously. “Probably for the best, since I doubt the Russians were gonna be that generous in the end. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“Is..Is…what does this mean for the Vagos?” he asks.

“Look at you with all the questions now, Juanito,” Scar says mockingly.

I don’t like him talking when I’m talking, but sometimes it works. Like right now, it scared Juanito just a little bit more. But you gotta respect a guy for inquiring about his brothers before his own life. He’s got good reason to fear that we’ll kill them all because of this transgression, but that’s for Cross to decide.

“What this means is that you’ll tell me everything you know,” I say. “And then you’re gonna leave, and after that if could go two ways. Either you go to your fat boss and tell him we know everything, or you can keep quiet and say you fell down some stairs or some shit like that.”

“A skyscraper full of stairs,” Scar chimes in, laughing like he just said the funniest thing. And it was funny, but I don’t appreciate the interruption.

“We’ll be in touch,” I say. “Our President will decide in what way. But right now I need to know everything that you know.”

He doesn’t need much more prodding after that, but it still takes a good two hours before he’s done talking. And all I know for a cold fact after we let him go near his home is that I won’t see Yanna for at least another two days. I’d hoped to stop by her place on the way back to Sanctuary, but this news is too important. Cross needs to know all this right away and we need to start planning ways of handling it. Scar reckons we should kill them all, but I think Cross is gonna want to handle this one more peacefully than that.

Yanna sent me a bunch of texts today. She’s getting worried I’m not coming back, I read that much between the lines. I couldn’t reply, hell, I could hardly read them, because that would bring her into the room with Scar and the guy I had him torture, and that felt wrong. She doesn’t belong in this part of my life.

I wonder how the other brothers manage to keep work and love separate. Maybe I’ll ask them one day, but either way, I’m gonna have to figure it out, because I want Yanna in my life for a good long while yet.

Ignoring her now, as I ride home feels wrong too. But the MC has to come first tonight.

* * *

Yanna

My next fight is tomorrow night, and Vlad’s been urging me to stay home and rest all day, but I just can’t sit around my house doing nothing. Hawk just vanished. He’s not even replying to my texts anymore and it hurts. In a way I’ve never hurt before. After all the pleasure, all the bliss he showed me—that we shared—it’s like he just doesn’t care anymore, and I don’t understand it.

“At least that Hawk guy isn’t hanging around as much anymore. You really didn’t need the distraction, and I’m glad you sent him packing,” Vlad says and it’s a really callous and hurtful statement, but he doesn’t know any different. He also doesn’t know that Hawk not being around is a much bigger distraction for me than him being around ever was.

“I guess the Russian mobsters weren’t the real reason for his visit. He just used them to get close to you. Maybe they even arranged it that way,” Vlad goes on. “They never approached you after that first night, did they?”

I never told him they came to my meet-and-greet too, because Hawk was handling it, and I didn’t want Vlad to worry. “Hawk told his friends to keep an eye on me and prevent that.”

I’ve seen bikers lurking just out of sight wherever I go, and they’ve been following me around the clock. Ever since Hawk stopped texting me back, I’ve been fighting the urge to go and speak to one of them, ask where he is and what’s going on. But despite my annoyance at him, I know that’s not a good idea. I want to hear it from him anyway.

Vlad is looking at me with uncharacteristic concern in his eyes, then clucks his tongue impatiently like some old lady might. “This is exactly why I told you not to get involved with him. You’re worried about him and you miss him. Those are two very big distractions while you’re fighting in the biggest tournament of your career. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

He’s right, I should know that. And I did know it. But how could I not get involved with him? How could I say no to those far-seeing eyes of his that saw only me? How could I not fall for the only guy who’s stronger than me in the only way that matters?

“Let’s talk about something else now,” I say pointedly.

This conversation and thinking about Hawk isn’t even making me angry anymore. I’m just sad now, and that’s not a good place to be. I don’t remember the last time I was truly sad, if I’m honest. It’s an emotion I’ve buried a long time ago when I decided I’d never feel it again, because being sad never leads anywhere good. It just leads to more sadness.

Vlad nods knowingly. “And least you don’t have much to worry about from Snake Bite. Igor’s been following her around and she’s not training. She’s with her boyfriend at the hospital all the time, and that’s exactly what I mean about distraction.”

We learned yesterday that Snake Bite’s boyfriend was injured while trying to fight off a burglar in their home. Vlad thinks that’s a good thing since she’ll be worried about him, which will make it easier for me to win our fight. But I think that’s a horrible thing to say and a horrible thing to go through, since I know I’d be a wreck right now if something happened to Hawk. But me being me, I’d probably channel that hurt into anger and use it to win the fight.

“She’s a fierce fighter and I do have to worry about her,” I say and stand up. I refuse to get sucked into a conversation about Hawk and love being a distraction again. “Let’s do a couple more sessions. I want to be ready for this fight.”

I’ve found and lost too much since I got to Vegas, and I refuse to lose the tournament too. I still remember my reason, just like Ice said I should, and it’s still strong. It might be a little muddy right now, wrapped in layers of fresh sadness and hurt, but it’s still there, as solid as ever.

Vlad makes a face, but doesn’t argue. He knows me and he knows a good practice session always puts me in a better mood.

* * *

Hawk

The meeting already took all night, and it’s still going strong even though it’s almost noon. I understand where Cross is coming from, I know he doesn’t want another war, but I’m also not sure this is the time for diplomacy, or having a conversation with the enemy, as he puts it.

I also need to see Yanna. Whichever way this turns, and I’m pretty sure it can only turn one way—towards war—I won’t get to see much of her in the next few days or weeks, and it’s already been too long. The one good thing that’s gonna come out of it is that the Russians will be distracted by us and leave her alone. Hopefully.

“How’s this for a plan?” Tank says. “We haul Yuri in and tell him to get the fuck out of Vegas or else. We know where his weapons stash is and we take that too while we’re talking to him.”

Tank’s not a patient man and he can always be counted on to advocate war and violence, though he’s been doing it less and less since he got together with Kim. I’m not sure if this is the time to half-ass anything, which I think his suggestion amounts to, but it’s certainly better than just talking.

I’ve had no texts from Yanna since yesterday morning, and I really need to rectify that, so I need this meeting to end. At least Ink, who I’ve left in charge of watching over her in Vegas is keeping me updated, and telling me there’s nothing to worry about, since they haven’t tried to approach her at all.

My phone starts buzzing. I check it automatically because there’s always that chance that Yanna is calling, but it’s not. It’s the tournament director, and I have a very bad feeling about this call.

“What do you think, Hawk?” Cross asks me pointedly.

It takes me a few moments to get my thoughts back on the subject we’ve been discussing all night, during which the anger in Cross’ eyes grows and grows.

“The way I see it, that guy me and Scar roughed up had enough time to tell the story of what happened by now,” I say, since I have no illusions that he didn’t. But I picked him to torture, because he’s close to their president and will be able to counsel against going to war. And I’m sure he’ll do that because he’s worried about his own family. “So they know we know. We left him alive because you want to avoid war, and they know that too. So the Vagos will very likely back down, since the element of surprise isn’t on their side anymore. As for the Russians, we need to make it clear to them we’re not to be messed with. Somehow they haven’t grasped that from our reputation yet.”

This is pretty much the direction Cross has been leaning in all night, I just defined it for him.

“As for their weapons, I think Tank’s right,” I continue. “We should seize those, and do it sooner rather than later.”

The tournament director is calling me again and now I’m sure whatever she has to say can’t be anything good.

The room stays silent after I finish speaking, only the buzzing of my phone interrupting it. So I turn it off.

“Alright,” Cross finally says. “I’ll get in touch with the Vagos and see what they have to say for themselves. In the meantime, Tank and Hawk will take a group to Vegas and prepare to neutralize the Russians. I’ll join you as soon as I know what’s what with the Vagos.”

Tank spends some time arguing that he should go see the Vagos too, but Cross won’t have none of that. Once he makes a decision, it’s done. That’s why he’s so careful about making hasty ones.

I head down to my office as soon as the meeting’s over and only then call back the tournament director.

“Snake Bite has pulled out of the tournament,” she tells me. “You were right about the attempts to jeopardize it, and I’m about ready to pull the plug on the whole thing.”

She’s agitated, her voice very shrill, so I’m not even sure I’m talking to the same icy woman I met the other day. I also don’t know why the hell she’s calling me to tell me this. But I do know cancelling the tournament now would shatter Yanna’s dreams, and I didn’t come this far, and jeopardize as much as I did to prevent that, to just let it happen now.

“Did she say she was pulling out over threats from the Russians?” I ask, even though I know that’s gotta be the reason.

“No, she said it was for personal reasons,” the director says. “But I’ve done my own research and it confirmed what you told me. I want a clean tournament or nothing at all.”

“I’ll go talk to this Snake Bite woman and see what’s what,” I say. “Don’t do anything until I get back to you.”

She agrees and I hope she’ll stay true to her word. It’s one more errand that’ll keep me away from Yanna, but this one I’m doing for her. I just hope I can find the words to keep this tournament of hers afloat. Or the time to try, since Tank’s already yelling for me to come out so we can ride.