Chapter Thirteen
Dax
“What the fuck! Terrance you punk! What the hell are you doing?”
Terrance was pointing his gun right in Olivia’s face. I knew he was probably pissed off because he found us together but the fact that he was holding a gun on her just made me see red. I jumped out of bed and without even thinking about it I grabbed the gun and pulled it out of his hand. I started swinging it. He took one in the side of the face and one to the shoulder before he went down to the floor. I tossed it aside and started pummeling him with my fists. I could hear Olivia saying my name and Terrance telling me to stop. I was pissed, but I didn’t want to kill the bastard. Not yet, anyways. I put my hand to his throat, not hard enough to choke him, but with just enough pressure to keep him on the floor.
“Dax, listen to me,” he said in a raspy voice. He was panting and gasping for breath. “Please, I just want to talk to you.”
“Nice way of talking, asshole. You kick in the door and start waving a gun around.”
“Please, Dax. Hear me out.”
“Talk fast.”
“My dad sent me a text. He said there was a cartel member down here causing trouble. He told me to get my ass over here. When I came in, no one was around. I heard noise in here and that’s the whole story, I swear. I didn’t know it was you and Olivia. I’m sorry I scared you, Liv. I’m sorry, Dax.”
I got the feeling that he was telling the truth. I wasn’t going to let him just walk out of there that easily though.
“What the hell are they into, Terrance? They’re mixed up with the fucking Cartel now?”
“I don’t know what all they’re into Dax. They just treat me like a fucking errand boy, you know that. I know that there have been some meetings with the Mexicans up at the warehouse. I don’t get invited inside, so I don’t know what’s being said or changing hands.”
“What’s in the crates that get delivered to Brock?”
“Shit Dax, I don’t know. I fucking swear, I don’t know. Your brother and your father both scare the shit out of me. You think I’m going to ask either one of them?”
I got off of him and said, “Get the fuck out of here Terrance.” He scrambled to his feet and then had the nerve to bend down to get his gun. I kicked it away and said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He didn’t say anything else. He glanced at Olivia before he left. It was a sad, hang-dog look, like she had done something to offend him. I think he had lost his mind.
“Are you okay?” I asked her once he was gone.
“Yeah, are you?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to talk to Terrance’s Pop,” I told her as I dug through the drawers for a clean shirt.
“What? Now? No Dax, you’re just inviting trouble.”
“Did I just invite Terrance in here with a gun? I need to know what the hell is going on. Obviously staying out of it isn’t doing us any good.”
“It’s because we’re still here, living in the midst of it, Dax. We need to just get the hell out of here.”
“Olivia, I can’t get out of here and move on with my life until I find out what or who has been holding me back the past two years.”
“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep worrying about you all the time, Dax. If you go out that door tonight and do this, I won’t be here when you get back.”
I stopped and looked at her as I stepped into my jeans. She had been back in my bed for no longer than ten minutes and now she was giving me ultimatums. She wasn’t the one who just did two years hard time for some bullshit she didn’t do.
“I have to go, Liv. I’d like you to be here when I get back, but I guess you have to do what you need to do to.”
I slipped on my boots and grabbed my jacket off the hook on the wall. She had tears in her eyes, but I couldn’t let that stop me. This shit had to stop.
I checked out the bar and the offices before I left. Terrance was right about one thing. Olivia and I were the only ones there. I locked up before getting on my bike and riding over to see the Vice President at his home.
I knew he heard me ride up and I didn’t doubt that he was in there armed, but he wouldn’t shoot me, at least not on his own property. My dad may not have given two shits about me, but I’m sure he’d be pissed if his one Vice President shot his son. I walked up and banged on the door. He pulled it open and a big smile crossed his face.
“Hey Dax!” he shouted.
He was dressed in his jeans still and a sloppy looking t-shirt. He had a beer in his hand and I could see the remnants of what was probably his dinner. A Hungry Man container on the coffee table in the den.
“Hey, can we talk for few?”
“Sure, come on in,” he said. He led me into the den and muted Duck Dynasty on the TV. “Have a seat, Dax. What’s going on?”
I sat down and he did too, “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Sure, if I can. What do you want to know?”
“Why did you send Terrance over to the bar with a gun tonight for one?”
“What? I didn’t send Terrance anywhere tonight. I haven’t talked to him since yesterday.” He looked and sounded genuinely confused. I was finding out though that if the MC club didn’t work out, most of those guys could get acting jobs.
“He says he got a text from you saying there was a Cartel guy at the bar causing trouble. He came busting in on me and Olivia with a gun. I don’t care for having a gun shoved in my face and I’d like to know what the fuck is going on.”
He got up and went across the room. He picked his phone up off one of the end tables and looked at it. He handed it to me and said, “Look, Dax. No message.”
I looked through his text messages, the sent ones, the received ones and the trash. He didn’t have many of them and his most recent to Terrance was yesterday and said something about bringing him a torque wrench when he came over.
I handed it back to him. It would have been easy enough to delete it before I got there.
“See?”
“I don’t see a message, but that doesn’t mean it was never there.”
“Shit, Dax. I’m an old man. I barely learned how to text. I don’t know anything about electronics and I don’t know how to delete this shit. Look at them. I have over two hundred messages from each contact. The last time anything got deleted on this phone was around the New Year. I asked Terrance to do it for me because I couldn’t figure out how.”
“Is the club mixed up with the Mexican Cartel?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask your old man, Dax,” he told me.
I wasn’t getting the answers I needed so I left without as much as a goodbye.