~ 16 ~
“I’ve brought in another nomad for this. Called him up last night and he should be pulling in any minute now. He doesn’t know shit about Hardy though, so keep that to yourself,” Vin said.
We were sitting behind the parking lot of the Miles City Bank, waiting on Agent Lear to make his entrance. As usual, the day was hot, but there was rain in the air again and any time the heavens were going to open. Skull had brought along a cage for us to bundle Agent Lear into the back of once he showed his ugly mug, and Semi had already gone and slashed Agent Lear’s tires.
As if on cue, the deep rumble of a Harley engine cut through the air and the nomad Vin had just told us about pulled up next to us. He pulled off his helmet and hung it on the bars, a tumble of thick, dark hair falling around his shoulders.
Vin climbed off his bike and walked over to him, and they shook hands.
“This is—”
“Balls,” the other man interrupted. “Name’s Balls and I’ve been looking forward to this day for a very long time.” He grinned.
“Balls has had dealings with Agent Lear a couple of times—never ended up in his favor either. Hasn’t been able to come to Miles City and see his mom for the past year because of our good friend.” Vin’s cell rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket and answered. He nodded and hung up. “Show’s on.”
A minute or so later Agent Lear walked around the side of the bank, cell phone in hand. He was talking quickly, head down and oblivious to the trap he’d just walked himself right into until it was too late to walk away. He looked up slowly, his eyes widening. Buddy stepped behind him, plucking the cell from his hand and putting it to his ear. Whoever was on the other end obviously had a lot to say because he listened intently for over a minute before he got a chance to say anything.
“Agent Lear is currently unavailable. But if you want your man back, I suggest you give up whoever is responsible for almost killing my brother. You have one hour.” He closed the cell and slipped it into his back pocket while JP and Crank gripped both of Lear’s arms and dragged him into the back of the waiting van.
Agent Lear still hadn’t spoken a word, and Balls walked over calmly, looking up into the back of the van, his hard gaze connecting with Agent Lear’s.
“Remember me, motherfucker?” he sneered, and I fucking loved the look of horror that crossed Agent Lear’s face. Balls pulled out a flick knife. “And this?”
“I’m an officer, you can’t—”
“You should know by now that the Highwaymen don’t run by your laws,” Vin said. He nodded to JP and Crank, and Buddy closed the doors to the sound of fists hitting flesh and grunts of pain.
We all climbed back on our bikes and Skull started to drive with us following, heading out of town and somewhere secluded. About halfway, Agent Lear’s cell rang and we pulled over so Buddy could answer it. He gave them directions on where they could find Agent Lear, with strict orders to come alone, and then we were off again.
We pulled into the drop point twenty minutes later and Buddy opened up the van doors and dragged Agent Lear out. His face was a mess, blood splattered down his shirt, and bruises already forming on what was likely a broken cheekbone. Not that it would matter soon anyway; he was a dead man walking regardless of who or what information he gave up.
Buddy pushed the man to his knees and Balls pulled out the flick knife again and made his way toward him. “You know I never got to say goodbye to my mom before she passed because of you?” he spat, and Agent Lear looked away.
Buddy was standing behind him and gripped him by his hair, lifting his face up to look at Balls.
“She was eighty-nine and I was her only kid. She was a good woman, and she died alone because of you.”
Agent Lear spat out a mouthful of blood. “You ever stop to think that it was your fault she died alone and not mine, you piece of shit?”
Balls reared back with his arm and swiped the blade across Agent Lear’s chest. He screamed out and blood blossomed across his shirt.
“No, it’s your fault. You’re the lowest of the low. Because you’re not just a cop, but you’re a dirty cop. Ain’t nothing worse.” Balls got down to his knees, blood dripping from his blade. “Now, are you going to be a good little boy and tell us who your contact is or am I going to cut your tongue out?”
Balls grabbed Agent Lear’s chin and squeezed his cheeks until his mouth opened. Agent Lear screamed and writhed under his and Buddy’s grip and I stared on impassively.
“I can’t! I can’t!” Agent Lear screamed, a puddle of piss building beneath him. “He’ll fucking kill me if I breathe a word! Please!”
Balls stood up and looked at Vin, who sighed. “How about this. You give us a name and we let you loose now. You run and you don’t look back. But this is your one and only chance. Your buddies will be here soon, and when they get here we’re going to kill every single one of them. This is as good an offer as you’ll ever get.”
Agent Lear looked down at the dusty ground, sweat trailing down the side of his face. When he looked up he nodded. “You let me go, now, today? And you leave my wife and kids alone.”
Vin nodded and I almost rolled my eyes at how fucking stupid Agent Lear was to believe him. His wife and kids would be fine, they were civilians, innocent of this man’s dirty dealings. But there was no way Agent Lear was coming out of this situation anything less than dead.
He swallowed, his anxious gaze moving over us all until it landed back on Vin. “You’ll look after my wife and kids, right?” he asked.
I was about to say something when I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. I plucked it out and saw Nancy’s name on the screen.
“Now’s not a good time, babe,” I said as I answered it, and I had no fucking clue what she said back because it was indecipherable between the cussing and yelling. I pulled the cell away from my ear. “Now’s really not a good time,” I growled, louder that time.
Jesus. Was that what I had to look forward to now? Because that was not what I wanted. Bitching and moaning and we were only a couple of hours into the relationship, or whatever it was. Fuck that.
Vin glared at me, one eyebrow raised, as if to tell me to hurry the fuck up. I took a step back from the group to let them finish up. I didn’t need to see what would happen next; it was obvious how it was going to go down.
“You wanted a name, you piece of shit?” Nancy yelled, sounding both distraught and furious. “You wanted a name? How about you—Sketch? That a good enough name for you? Because you hurt me worse than any of those other men ever did!”
“Nancy?” I shook my head, moving further away from the group.
I should have just hung up—fuck knows it wasn’t the right time—but something about her tone kept me talking to her. Kept me moving away from the group and listening to the bullshit she was spewing down at me.
“How could you? I trusted you!”
“Nancy? I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, so you’re gonna have to spell it the fuck out for me.”
“Of course you have no idea! Because that’s how easy all of this is to you. You’ve probably already moved on to your next bet. I wonder if you’d be willing to share her too?” she sobbed angrily.
I froze at her words.
Fuck. No, double fuck!
“So, how about that name? Sketch—he was the man that broke my heart. Peter Anthony Lear—he was the man that stole my virginity. And Kenny Jennings, Paul Smith, and Frank Grahams were the men that he let rape me until I passed out from the pain. There are your names. And I’ll give you one more name, Sketch. One more and you leave me the hell alone forever. Tammy. That’s my ex-girlfriend that told me all about your little promise to share me with her. Now go fuck yourself.” Nancy hung up and I stared at it for a long second before closing it and putting it back in my cut.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, knowing I’d fucked up big time. Wasn’t even sure I could win her back after that big of a fuckup. I mean, I had to, because there was no way I was giving her up, but thanks to that bitch Tammy, my job wasn’t going to be easy.
Bitch had played dirty—real dirty—and I wasn’t sure if that shit could ever be clean again.
I headed back to the group, to where Agent Lear was on the ground, curled up on his side. Vin was on the phone and Balls was standing over Lear, kicking him in the ribs. My footsteps came to a halt and I looked down at Agent Lear, my stomach suddenly turning. I walked over and pulled Balls off him, glaring down into his bloody face.
“What’s your name, fuckwad?”
He looked up at me, and spat out a mouthful of blood. “Lear,” he grunted.
I crouched down and snarled. “What’s your first name?”
His chest wheezed when he breathed, his breathing labored and sounding painful. Punctured lung and some broken ribs? Maybe. He’d live, though. At least for the next thirty seconds.
“Peter,” he hissed out painfully, his eyes looking at me beseechingly.
I saw red.
Literal red.
A haze of it drowned everything else out until all I could see was him.
I pulled out my gun and pressed it into his forehead. He put up his hands and started to beg for his life, tears leaking down his bloodstained face.
“Please! Please! I have kids—two little girls, a wife. Please! I told you everything I know! I was just trying to help my family. I was just trying to get us some extra money. I’m just like you, really! I’m just trying to stick it to the man and live a good life.”
Hate burned the edges of my vision. “I’m nothin’ like you, motherfucker,” I growled out, “you remember a girl named Nancy?” And I felt my brothers at my back, listening to everything going down.
Peter’s eyes went wide. “We were just kids,” he muttered. “We were just kids for gods sake!”
“So you do remember her?” I gritted out bitterly. All I could see was Nancy’s tearstained face as she told me what he and his friends had done to her. The things they’d called her and how much they had hurt her. All I could think about was that Peter Lear—Agent fucking Lear—had watched them rape her, and he’d probably gotten off on it too. And now he was a cop with a wife and kids of his own.
“I’ve been watching Nancy,” he said, his words coming out quiet, like he already knew his fate. “Kept a close eye on her after she left town—just to make sure she was doing okay. I felt awful for what happened, couldn’t get her out of my mind.”
“You’ve been stalking his girl?” Balls said from next to me. “That’s fucked up.”
The air thickened and I sucked in a sharp breath, struggling to breathe as he spoke. Because I saw the look on his face when he said her name. There was no shame in his eyes, no concern for the girl he’d broken, only lust. I was going to kill him. Then bring him back to life so I could kill him all over again.
I thought I knew hate, but up until that moment I hadn’t felt anything even close to it.
“Not stalking, no, just watching. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I’ve not seen her in such a long time. Things went too far that night—I never meant for that. But you can’t blame me. She’s beautiful, and back then she was innocent and beautiful. And she never said no, so how did they really know?” He held out his hands, appealing for me to understand him.
All I wanted to do was shoot him in the face with every new word he spoke.
“I saw her last night when she left work. I told her I was sorry and she told me to leave her alone. I tried to get her to understand, but she’s stubborn.” His eyes went far away. “She always was, even back then.”
I thought back to the night before, to the way she had reacted when she had passed the ATF car and how she’d looked like she’d been crying.
“Are you all ATF agents?” I snarled.
“What?”
“The others that night—did you all end up as agents?” I said angrily. My muscles were twitching, ready to end this shit. To end him.
“Not all of us. Frank moved away afterwards, but Kenny and Paul—they’re good men now, both hard working, with families of their own. They probably don’t even remember Nancy, or that night.” He said it like it was okay. Like the fact that they didn’t jack off every night on what they’d done to her would be okay, or make any of it any better.
I glared down at him and we both knew he was lying too—they did remember her, they all did. The sound of a car pulling up sounded out behind me and I stood up.
The doors opened and two men stepped out. I’d seen them before at the clubhouse when they’d raided us. They looked at Peter Lear on the ground, their eyes going wide as they realized, all too late, that there was no way he was walking away from this.
“You Paul?” I asked, nodding toward one of the men.
He shook his head.
“Kenny then?” I asked, and he nodded slowly, his gaze moving to the man next to him warily. “And that’s Paul?”
He nodded and I smiled and lifted my gun, blowing a hole in both of their skulls without even taking a breath.
Motherfuckers got the easy way out.
Their bodies fell to the ground and I turned back to Peter, my gun aimed at his head. “Nancy sends her motherfucking regards, bitch!”
“Please!” he screamed, sounding more like a prepubescent boy than a grown man.
I shook my head at him and glanced at Vin. “We need a name,” he grunted out, clearly unhappy with having to bring it up. It must have been all over my face how much I wanted to blow this motherfucker away.
I leaned down and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Give me a name, now!”
His eyes were wide, his skin slick with sweat. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’ll kill me if I do.”
“Motherfucker, I’m gonna kill you anyway!” I roared. “Now give me a name!”
“No, no,” he sobbed, his chin trembling. I shook him like a rag doll and then dropped him to the ground.
I turned and looked at Vin. “He needs to go to ground!” I growled out.
“I’ll never give you a name,” Agent Lear said, his voice high-pitched like his balls were tucked up high in his waist. But he was right. He was never giving us a name. The dumb fucker thought that would keep him alive when instead all it did was sending him to his death.
I glanced at Vin and he nodded. “Do it.”
“Thank fuck for that,” I said and looked back at Peter.
I aimed at Peter and fired, putting a bullet straight through his skull and silencing his pleading immediately. Blood trickled out of the small hole, surrounding his head like a halo of blood. It was ironic, because Agent Peter Lear was anything but angelic.