Chapter 28

Trainer

 

Sam's wide eyes take me in, from the top of my head to my scuffed-up black boots.

“Krista's not here,” she says instantly.

I frown.

Gotta be. I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Car's out front.”

Now it's Sam's turn to frown. “What?” She turns, stuffing her feet into bright-red plastic shoes with holes over the toes.

Sliding past me, she leaves the door standing open and walks out to where Krista's car's parked.

“She just left…” Sam bites her thumbnail, and I glance quickly inside the front door then close it, following behind her.

Dread coils inside my guts.

Sam makes a slow circle around the burnt-orange Fiat.

I watch her, hands to hips.

When she gets to the driver's side, Sam stops. “Trainer,” she calls urgently.

Striding around the front of the car, I see it too. Hell, I can't see nothinʼ else but the chocolate-colored strands of Krista's hair, stuck to where roof meets door… by scarlet glue.

My lady's blood.

I stand beside Sam, and we stare at the damning patch, the evidence that someone hurt Krista.

Then took her.

“Allen,” Sam guesses.

“Yeah.” Nothing else—nobody else—makes as much sense as him.

Knew he was an Arnie.

Sam looks up at me, eyes shining with tears. “I introduced them.”

My stomach does a slow turn, and I know exactly what I need to do. “Gotta make a call.” I move toward the open courtyard near Samantha's front door, where wooden beams cut the view of the sky above my head.

Scrolling through my contacts’ images, I find the hangman's noose then tap the icon for a telephone receiver.

Ringing starts.

Noose answers in his chatty way, “Yeah.”

“Gotta a problem.”

“What kind?”

“Somethinʼ I can't talk about over the cell.”

“Got ya.” Then after a few seconds, Noose asks, “Where you at?”

I tell him.

“Hang tight. Be there in a jiffy.”

With a grim nod he can't see, I blank the screen, pocketing my cell. I walk over to an old wood bench with its legs embedded in pebbled concrete that sits directly before the entryway to Sam's house.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks slowly, coming to stand in front of me.

“Waitinʼ.”

“Ah—maybe you're not aware, but that fucker Allen has brained Krista and taken her somewhere.” She folds her arms.

Sam needs to eat, I think randomly then say, “Got my friend coming. We'll come up with somethinʼ.”

I know better than to go shootinʼ off half-cocked without my brothers as backup. Might get fucked-up. Can't help Krista then.

“Right.” Then her face lights up like she's thought of something. “Is this the dude that came by and choked Krista, put her on notice about not hurting you?”

My face whips to hers, and I stand, towering over her, though she's a pretty tall girl. “Choked her?” Noose didn't mention that, only admitted to giving her a talking to, which I was mighty pissed about anyway.

Sam nods vigorously, curly hair bouncing around. “Yes, held her to the door by her throat.” Noose's motorcycle roars in the distance.

We're gonna have words, then he's going to help me get Krista.

 

*

 

Noose is sprawled on his ass.

My knuckles throb from being used so soon after the my last beat-up session with Noose.

“What the fuck?” Noose says, popping to his feet. “That hurt, fucker!”

“Oh shit,” Sam mutters in the background.

I swing my jaw toward where Sam stands behind me. “She told me you choked Krista.”

Noose's hooded eyes move to Sam, who shrinks back, then back to me. “Not really.”

“Not fucking really?” I say, flinging my arms wide.

“Yeah, broke into her security-breach condo, and she freaked out, tried to take off.” He shrugs. “Got her at the door before she could get out and alert the media.” He chuckles.

I glower at him.

“Listen, didn't leave a mark on her.” Noose slides his jaw left to right, eyes tightening with pain. “Twice in twenty-four hours. Hurts like a bitch now,” he mutters, shooting me a glare.

Noose wags his finger. “I can do that shit, ya know.”

We all know. Noose is a master at hurting where it shows or doesn't—his choice. Still don't like him putting hands on Krista. “Don't ever touch her again.”

Noose's eyebrow quirks. “Let's make that possible by finding her first, eh?”

“Yeah.” I'm still pissed. My hands fist, and I ignore the pain at my knuckles.

Noose gives me the weight of his hard stare. “Save it for the fucker who took her.”

“Wait a second,” Sam says from behind me, and we look at her.

“I wouldn't suggest you just go over to Allen's and demand Krista.”

Noose snorts. “Why the fuck not?”

“I'm really trying hard not to be intimidated by you right now. But I have to say, you scare the pee out of me.”

He smirks, taking time to smack a cig out of the ever-present pack he carries, and lights it. Tipping his head back, he shoots smoke rings.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Well, why don't you just try? You know, to tone back”—she waves her palm around at him—“this whole bad-ass act.”

Noose doesn't answer.

I do. “It's not an act. Noose is always legit.”

Sam's brow stitches in a small frown. “Well, that's just frightening.”

Yup. Good man to have on your side, though. That's why I called him up.

“So where's the evidence?”

I jerk my jaw toward the Fiat. Noose slides from the seat of his bike and follows me to the car.

He flicks his half-burnt cig, and it lands near the front tire of Krista's car, smoldering.

Noose bends down and smells the matted tuft of hair and blood.

“That's weird.”

I shake my head at Sam. She mimes zipping her lips gesture, but rolls her eyes.

Noose rubs a strand of hair back and forth between his index finger and thumb.

He straightens, staring at the spot of gore on my lady's car.

“Looks bad.”

“You think?” Sam says with that bitchy tone some girls get.

Noose looks at her.

She shuts up in a hurry.

He strides to the front of the car, about where the center of the hood is. “She was walking away. He grabs Krista, then drags her to…” He stuffs his freshly lit cig back in his mouth and takes three steps to where the blood is, jerks the cig out, and with both hands, cages the evidence of her injury. “Spins her and brain dusts her on the car.”

That knot's back. The tight thing I've lived with my entire life. Back like it never went away.

I rub the spot in my chest and ask Noose, “He snuck up on her and did this?” My voice cracks, and Noose gives me a sharp look.

Not losing my shit.

“Nah. She knew he was coming—I'm betting—just not his potential for violence.”

“I knew it.”

Noose dips his chin, smoke sliding out his mouth as he answers, “Yeah. Knew he was a class-A chode right outta the gate.”

“I introduced them,” Sam says a second time, mournfully.

Noose laughs.

Nothing's funny right now. Nothinʼ.

“Good call.” His lips twist, and he puts out his smoke on his boot sole.

Sam bursts into tears, covering her face.

Shit. Noose exchange an uneasy glance with me.

 

*

 

“He's a lawyer. Follow the law. Call the cops.” Sam looks between the two of us, wiping her running nose and sniffling. “Krista said she was going for a restraining order.”

“She was.” Noose says.

“Yes, she's been putting it together recently that Allen's more unstable than she realized.”

Sam twists a spiral of hair, lets it bounce back, then does it again. “Are you sure it's him?”

Yes.

“Know anybody else that wants to beat the shit outta a schoolteacher and kidnap her?” Noose looks at me. Puts up a palm.

Sam shakes her head.

“Okay,” I say, “think we all know it's Allen. Not gonna call the cops. They'll see his fancy shit and figure we're the bad guys. It's how that shit always goes down.”

Sam looks like she's going to argue that.

But she and I both know what I am and where I've been. I know what I'm talking about. Cops don’t care about the invisible people like Mama and me. Cops don't see prostitutes, or their bastard kids, as people.

They won't see me now when I say my girlfriend's been taken by a psycho lawyer who's got a bankroll.

They'll see him. Not us.

“Trainer's right. Cops don't look past the patch.” Noose points to the one-percenter patch—a solid red diamond with the number and symbol for percentage inside its borders.

We tap knuckles.

“That's why we're club, so we don't have to be under their authority.”

Sam takes a deep breath. “What can you do? Nevermind, maybe I don't want to know.”

She walks over to us and takes my free hand and Noose's. Tears well again in her eyes.

“Save my friend.” Her eyes narrow on me. “And pull the penis off Allen. Slowly.”

Noose chuckles, pulling his hand away. He grabs a tissue out of his pocket and hands it to her. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Sam dabs at her eyes. I never let go of her hand. Holding Sam's hand feels like I'm a little closer to Krista.

Sam cries for us both.

She tilts her head back, searching my eyes. “You love her.” It’s not a question.

I nod, because anything else is a lie. I fell hard. I fell fast… I'm still falling.

Squeezing my hand, she lets it fall. “Don't get dead, Trainer.”

I shake my head.

She smiles. “You don't talk much.”

“No.”

“You're going to kill him?” Her eyes skate nervously between us.

Yes.

I don't say anything.

Noose and I walk away, mount our rides, and slap kickstands into position.

We pull out, and I don't look back at Krista's friend.

Instead, I look forward.