~Duane~
“Have you called Jess yet?”
I shook my head, staring out the driver’s side window of Beau’s GTO. It was the Friday after Thanksgiving. Instead of heading to the jam session and delicious coleslaw, we were on our way to the Dragon Biker Bar, unannounced and uninvited. We were presently stopped at the convenience store because Cletus needed duct tape. Jethro escorted Cletus into the store to ensure he didn’t dawdle. And I was driving because I was by far the best driver in case we needed to make a quick getaway.
I heard Beau curse under his breath next to me then say, “You’re such a dummy.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to call her. I just haven’t called her yet.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because I don’t have a plan yet, that’s why. I need to come to her with a plan, not just being stupid.”
“You are being stupid. What you need to do is call her, tell her you were wrong, beg for her forgiveness, say you’re ready to go whenever she is, and then meet some place for make-up sex. That’s how you do it.”
“She’s not going to forgive me that easily. That’s why I need a plan. Besides, I want all this mess with the Iron Order over and done with before I set things straight. They’ve taken too much of my time, been too much of a distraction.”
“You need to stop waiting for everything to be just right, Duane. Haven’t you wasted enough time already?”
“I’m not asking for your opinion,” I ground out.
Beau shook his head and sing-songed under his breath, “You’re making a mista-ake.”
The buzz of my phone offered an alternative to Beau’s meddling. Tina.
My message to her yesterday was clear: she was no longer needed.
She hadn’t responded. Not ’til now.
Tina: Tina can’t come to the phone right now. You should probably call your Uncle Razor, he’s got something you want.
I frowned at the short text, reading it twice, then cursed.
“What? What is it?” Beau glanced between me and my phone.
I showed him my screen.
He cursed, then said unnecessarily. “I bet she got herself caught.”
Luckily Jethro and Cletus walked out of the Piggly Wiggly at just that moment and made a beeline for the car.
“Sorry that took so long. They had a wide selection of duct tape. And Cletus bought silly string.” Jethro sounded irritated as he settled in the car behind me.
“You can’t rush a duct tape purchase.” In my rearview mirror I saw Cletus clutching the shopping bag to his chest. “Duct tape is man’s answer to electrons and protons. It’s how we keep matter together.”
Once Beau was back in the car, he grabbed my phone out of my hand and passed it to Cletus. “We may have a problem.”
Cletus frowned at the message, then nodded, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses farther up his nose. “Well. Okay then. You can’t make an omelet without heat.”
“You mean, you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs,” Beau corrected.
“No. I meant what I said, you can’t make an omelet without heat. If you have no heat then it’s just watery, raw eggs. That’s not an omelet.”
“Why are you wearing those stupid glasses, Cletus? You don’t need glasses,” Beau asked impatiently.
“It’s a fashion statement,” Cletus responded while he typed something into his calculator watch.
“And to think, I was actually missing y’all last week, before I got home.” Jethro’s sarcasm was cool whip on whipped cream—completely unnecessary.
“Whatever,” Beau said, straightening in his seat. He was anxious.
I should have been, but other than hoping Tina hadn’t done anything too crazy, and a measure of guilt for involving her in the first place, all I felt was impatience to have this mess sorted.
***
I wasn’t anxious. Not at all.
Not until the moment I spotted Jessica James and Claire McClure being carried against their will into the Dragon Biker Bar by two huge men in black leather, trailed by four more men and a shouting Repo.
The situation didn’t look friendly.
“What the fuck?” Jethro’s voice was tight. I knew he recognized Ben McClure’s widow by her red hair. Part of me suspected Ben’s death years ago had been the catalyst for Jethro’s abrupt desire to clean up his act.
“Park the goddamn car, Duane!” Jethro’s voice was now frantic.
“Give the man a minute,” Cletus reprimanded. “Can’t you see his woman is up there, too?”
But she wasn’t, not anymore. They’d both been carried into the bar and swallowed up by the black doors.
I raced the GTO as close to the entrance as I dared and had already parked when Cletus spoke. I didn’t move my seat up to let my brothers out. Instead I ran to the entrance and yanked the door open, scanning the inside for any sign of them and paying no heed to the dozens of bikers staring at me.
I heard Repo’s angry voice but didn’t see him, so I charged toward the sound. My way was immediately blocked by several gang members.
“Out of my way!” I growled my frustration, readying my fists for a fight. Somewhere in the background Honky Tonk Blues rattled over an old speaker system.
“Wait, wait a minute.” I heard Beau from behind me, but I ignored him.
“Get out of my fucking way!” I shouted, drawing my hand back. I didn’t really register the men’s faces, didn’t need to.
“Whoa! Hold on!” An older woman with flaming red hair jumped between me and the wall of bikers, her hands held up. “Just cool your shit, Winston. This ain’t no way to show respect.”
I’d never hit a woman before. But this woman was between me and Jess and that meant she might as well have been a man. Before I could take action, Jethro was suddenly there, standing in front of me.
“Christine, we just saw your boys grab Claire McClure and Jessica James from the parking lot and carry them inside. You need to bring those women out here right now.”
Christine shoved her face into Jethro’s and spat, “You don’t order me, Jethro Winston. Claire is my daughter and I’ll remind you who you’re talking to, boy. Coming in here, acting crazy. You wanna die today?”
I gave the woman another look and immediately registered the resemblance between Claire and Christine. I remembered that I’d met Christine before, years ago at a club picnic when I was a kid. And I’d seen her around town many times, never realizing who she was.
But none of this information was getting me any closer to Jess. I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth, forcing myself to talk even though all I wanted to do was burn this place to the ground.
“Look, we’re here to see Razor,” I cut in, glaring at Claire’s momma, then the barrier of bikers behind her. “I got a message he has something I want. And I guarantee I’ve got something he wants. So enough of this standing around chit-chat bullshit. Which of you is going to take us to see the big man?”
Christine’s eyes moved to me, face still twisted in a sneer. Her glare traveled down then up, as though appraising me for a fight. The bar was eerily quiet and I noticed that the music, wherever it had come from, had been turned off. I also noticed that we were the center of attention. No man was sitting and no woman was talking.
“I know he’s expecting you.” Her tone was cold and measured. “But he wasn’t expecting four of you boys, just the twins.”
“Well, we’re all here, and we’re all telling the same story. So let’s go.”
She studied me, her shrewd eyes moving over my face like she could read my secrets.
At last she nodded once. “Fine. Follow me, Winston.”
Christine turned and the impenetrable barrier of bikers split down the middle, creating a straight path through the crowd. I looked beyond Christine, saw we were headed toward a hallway at the back of the bar.
I heard Cletus from someplace behind me say, “Gentleman, ladies.”
The walls were black. The doors were black. Everyone was dressed in black. Moving through the crowd was like swimming in a midnight sea surrounded by sharks. I could feel their eyes on me, their stares menacing and hostile.
Once we entered the hall I glanced behind me. Though the wall of bikers loitered at the edge of the hallway, eight were following us. Christine stopped abruptly, turned, and lifted her chin toward me.
“Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”
Clenching my jaw, I did as instructed, realizing we’d made it pretty far into the club without being frisked.
My three brothers also complied, but then after a half minute I heard Cletus say, “That’s silly string.”
I glanced over my shoulder, watching the interaction between Cletus and one of the bikers patting us down.
“What’s it do?” the biker asked.
“It’s silly,” Cletus responded. “And it makes a mess.”
The club member glanced at Christine and she shrugged, addressing her question to Cletus, “You planning on making silly messes?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then why do have it?”
“Just in case you have cameras in the room where we’re being taken.”
She frowned at Cletus, her eyes narrowing. “You planning on covering the lenses with silly string?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No, you ain’t.” She lifted her chin and the silly string was confiscated.
Once the pat down was complete, Christine led us further into the winding corridor. We descended a flight of stairs, passing more black walls and more black doors. Nothing was labeled and all the hallways looked the same. I had no idea how we were going to get out of here without a guide.
With every step, my fear mounted, a sensation I wasn’t accustomed to. Panic threatened to either choke me or send me into a blind rage. All I could think about was Jess, somewhere in this hellish labyrinth. But I stopped myself from imagining the worst, because if I did then I would most certainly yield to blind rage.
Finally, we stopped in front of a door. I strained my ears, heard voices on the other side, and a shot of adrenaline traveled through my system like a lightning bolt when I recognized one of the voices as Jessica’s. I had to clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists to keep from charging forward.
“After you, handsome,” Christine said, opening the door wide and giving me a sinister smile.
I didn’t need to be asked twice.
I walked into the room and scanned it, my eyes immediately latching on to Jessica. She was sitting on a black leather couch, and next to her was Claire. They both looked pissed, but unharmed. My chest eased, some of the panic I’d been fighting dissipated. The girls weren’t looking at us. They were looking at the man on the adjacent couch, a man I recognized as Razor Dennings, president of the Iron Order.
“So you boys made it,” he said without turning his head; Razor’s eyes were on his daughter but he lifted his chin toward Jess. “I knew you’d come if I invited your girl here for a visit.”
Jess’s attention finally moved to where I stood, her eyes telling me most of what I needed to know. She wasn’t surprised to see me. And she was scared, and feeling stupid for some reason, trying to apologize without saying the words.
“I don’t see why all this was necessary,” Repo drawled. I glanced to my right, found him sitting on a stool in front of a black lacquer bar. He had a whiskey or a bourbon in front of him, but it looked untouched.
I forced myself to see beyond my Jess tunnel vision and took a quick survey of the room. Besides the eight-biker escort behind us, Razor, and Repo, there were two other Order members in the room, both as big as mountains. I recognized one as Catfish. I knew him because he liked to fish and sometimes went out with Hank Weller and Beau. He was difficult to overlook.
“This is all necessary, Repo, because you take too fucking long to get shit done,” Christine spat as she strolled past me and crossed to her old man, giving him a sloppy kiss and whispering something in his ear.
“I have the situation under control,” Repo responded through gritted teeth, glaring at the back of Christine’s head.
“Enough. This shit needs to be settled.” Razor pushed his old lady aside and she fell into the couch. He stood, stepped over her legs like she was a nuisance, and scanned us.
Razor was tall, but he wasn’t big. He’d never been thick or burly. He was lanky and reeked of evil. Looking into his blue eyes, I’d always felt like I was looking at death. Repo had told me once, when I was just a kid and he was over for dinner, that Razor got the name from his preferred method for punishing insubordination.
His dead eyes settled on me, his face without expression, and lifted his black beard. “You. What’s your answer? Yes or no?”
“No.” I didn’t hesitate. This fucker was scary as hell, but bullshitting or delaying was only going to piss him off.
“No?” He didn’t sound surprised, more like he wanted to confirm my final answer.
“No.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Repo’s face fall into the palm of his hand and he shook his head.
Razor nodded once, again with no expression. “Then your brother is going to federal prison. But first, my boys are going to fuck you all up.”
“No,” I said again. “None of that’s going to happen either.”
“You’re going to give me a compelling reason, son?” The first note of inflection entered his voice; he sounded interested, like he hoped I would surprise him.
“Yes.”
“And what is that compelling reason?”
“When Jethro installed the traps he alerted the law, sent pictures of the cars, VIN numbers, and a letter stating that he suspected the traps were being used for the transport of drugs.”
Razor’s eyes narrowed, just a tad, and something like a small smile made his lips curve. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“If that’s so, then why hasn’t the law interfered with our operations?”
I paused, thinking about Cletus’s confiscated silly string. He obviously thought we were being recorded or videotaped. I didn’t want to say anything incriminating.
“No answer?” Razor’s smile grew.
To my relief and surprise, Cletus stepped forward and answered for me. “The law hasn’t interfered with your operations because they’ve been informed, but they don’t know it. The certified envelope is in a safe place at an offsite facility and we have copies, including a receipt—dated three years ago—of the certified letter, signed for by the law. All we need to do is place a phone call. Or, you could murder us.”
“Say what?” Repo asked. He’d abandoned his stool and crossed to stand next to his boss.
“Murder us,” Cletus responded slow and loud, like they were hard of hearing. “If you murder us then the police will also be notified about the location of the certified package. As well as other information pertaining to your…activities.”
“Other information?” Repo sounded skeptical.
Cletus nodded. “Yes. That’s right. I make a hobby of covert surveillance. And I imagine no one in this room wants the police to know what happened on the night of January seventh, two years ago.”
Razor’s earlier humorless smile melted away. His eyes no longer looked dead, they looked murderous.
“Are you threatening me, boy?”
“Not precisely,” Cletus started, and I knew it was time for me to cut in, before Cletus explained the semantic differences between a fact, a promise, and a threat.
“We’re not here to threaten you. We’re here to decline your offer. If you push the issue then we’ll have no choice but to call the law.” I spoke plainly because it was clear the club president didn’t respond well to anything but plain speaking. “Now, we’d rather not do that, for obvious reasons. If you leave us alone, and Miss James and Mrs. McClure alone, then we’ll have no reason to go sharing.”
Razor’s eyes flashed as he returned his attention to me, and I clenched my jaw, bracing for whatever came next. This guy was crazy enough to hold Jess, the Sheriff’s daughter, against her will. He was likely crazy enough to do much more than that.
“You don’t think you can just walk out of here, do you, boy? I can’t let y’all leave without one of you receiving a souvenir.”
I swallowed a fair amount of dread, but also relief. We would be walking out of here, not limping, not carried out on stretchers. Walking.
If the rumors were to be believed, Razor’s boon of choice was a cut, or several cuts, usually on the lower back and in a cross hash pattern. Sometimes he wrote his name. I could do that if it meant all of us, especially Jess and Claire, were going to walk out on our own two legs.
I felt rather than saw Cletus stiffen next to me, knew he was about to object, but I lifted my hand to stay his outraged speech and addressed the club president. “Fine. I see you need to save face. That’s fair.”
Jessica’s strangled squeak met my ears and I ignored it, fought the urge to look at her.
“That’s not fair,” Cletus objected through clenched teeth.
“I’ll do it.” I stepped forward.
“Duane…” Beau’s protest was choked, and I heard him say, “No, I’ll do it.”
A hand closed over my shoulder and I turned my head to find Jethro behind me, his eyes unusually serious. “It should be me.”
The president pulled a straight razor from one of his pants pockets, flipping it open at the hinge. He was smiling again. “Should I give y’all a few minutes to decide who gets the honor?”
“No,” Claire shouted, standing and bringing Jessica with her. “No one will have the honor. There won’t be any of that shit today.”
“Dearest daughter, I didn’t mean you would be leaving. Remember what I said? You ever come back here, you ain’t leaving again. This is where you belong.”
She shook her head slowly and lifted her hand, and that’s when I saw the 9-millimeter handgun in her grip. My eyes darted to Jess, and despite looking scared, she didn’t look surprised. She looked determined. In fact, at that very moment she lifted her arm as well, and in her hand was another 9-millimeter.
“You didn’t frisk her?” Razor thundered at Catfish and the other mountain sized biker. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s my daughter. Of course she’s got a weapon.”
Truly, you could have knocked me over with a feather.
“We’re leaving, those Winston boys are coming with, and no one is getting carved today.” Claire’s voice was unnervingly calm.
“You try my patience, baby girl.” Razor took a step toward his daughter and she responded by flicking off the safety, murder in her eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“You dare raise a gun to your daddy?” Christine stood as well; her eyes and voice were full of loathing.
“Like I said, we’re leaving. And there will be no retribution either.” Claire ignored her momma. She and Jess moved in unison to where we were standing. Jess’s gun was trained on our eight biker escorts and Claire was covering Razor, Repo, Catfish, and the other mountain-sized Order member.
“Boss?” Catfish questioned, his eyes darting between us and Razor.
The club president squinted at his daughter for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At last he shook his head. “Let them go.”
“All the way?”
“Yeah. All the way.” Razor nodded once, his eyes still on Claire as he addressed her. “I’m only doing this ’cause you’re my blood, girl. I still got a soft spot for you. But don’t you forget, you don’t come back unless you plan to take your place.”
Claire shook her head, her lip curling with disgust. “I won’t be back. But don’t you forget, Cletus ain’t the only one who knows where the bodies are buried.”