Chapter Two
Ozzy
Perfect silence, perfect peace, everything’s exactly as it should be, except for the gentle, distant snores coming from the back room. In this sublime moment, the clubhouse is my sanctuary.
For a few hours most every early morning when it’s Rugby season — during that short period when the pub closes for the night and reopens for the day — the place is mine. And while the club will have church later, now is my time to worship.
I pick up the remote and, with the push of a few buttons, I’m soon basking in the glow of the television. The world becomes simple in just the way I like it: rugby, food, beer, and, later, I’ll spend time with my brothers.
Life is good.
I have a home, I have a family, men and women who took a chance on a Kiwi bloke like me after I showed up at their door, and I have pride in what I do. That patch on my cut — Enforcer — is something I work hard to live up to every single day.
And today’s a special day: the All Blacks — New Zealand’s National team — are playing the Wallabies. New Zealand’s best up against whatever it is that qualifies as ‘good’ in Australia. This match is going to be a satisfying shoe-in.
And that’s not all that makes today special.
Smile on my face — because it’s only three minutes into the match and my team has already scored — I pour myself a pint, heat up a steak and cheese pie in the microwave, and set my phone out on the table in front of me so I can open up the tracking number for the package I ordered.
There’s a hardworking woman out there that’s been on my mind since the day I met her and she’s got a present coming her way.
Every few minutes, I hit refresh on my phone, and urge the bloody thing to make that simple change from ‘Out for Delivery’ to ‘Delivered’.
I know if I shut my eyes — though I won’t, because then I’d miss a moment of the game — I can imagine the smile on Maria’s face as she opens up her presents. Half a country away, I can hear the joyful curses as she sees each of the gifts I spent time picking out for her.
And then, even though she’s tired as hell from her job, she’ll ring me. And that’ll be the best part of my day — hearing her voice.
From two thousand miles away, she lights up my days and heats up my nights. Toughness and brains wrapped up in a dynamite red-headed package.
“Will you turn that shit down?”
I turn around.
Preacher’s in the doorway. His face is gray, his eyes half-open, and he’s holding onto the door frame for dear life.
“Come on, brother. This is important. National bragging rights. If we beat the Wallabies, I’ll be able to hold it over my cousin Seth in Brisbane. And my cousin Seth is kind of a dick, so I think you can understand that I need to watch this game,” I say.
Preacher doesn’t move, except to rub his temples. “Come on. I am hung over as shit, man. Please.”
I get up and head to the bar, pulling down an empty glass. “I reckon you’d have to be if you’re sleeping here instead of your cabin. You know the best cure for a hang over, right?”
“No more beer, brother,” he says, shaking his head. “But if you make me a Bloody Mary, I’ll let you keep your game on. I might even watch it with you.”
“Deal.”
I whip up the Bloody Mary in no time. I even add a little bit of piri piri sauce to give it some extra kick to help knock out Preacher’s hangover. Then I’m right back where I need to be: in my chair, checking my phone and watching my team stomp Australia.
The game’s going perfectly — we’re up 28 to 0 when the half ends — and the only thing putting a damper on my mood is the bloody UPS delivery man seems to be taking his time getting the package to Maria.
“What the hell do you keep rubbing on your phone for?” Preacher says, after about the twentieth time that I’ve checked the tracking number. “Are you watching porn on that thing? Anything good?”
I shake my head and point to the TV. “Not porn. Just checking something. Besides, that up there is better than any porn, bro. You want to get any Kiwi excited, you show him that.”
“So you’re saying you’re excited right now?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
It’s a good game, and the All Blacks are performing excellently. Why the hell wouldn’t I be excited?
“Physically excited right now?”
“Well, yeah, bro. It’s a good game. You bet I’m physically excited.”
Preacher looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
“You’re seriously hard right now?”
“This is a big thing, bro,” I say, pausing to sip my beer and put him on edge. “But if you’re asking if I have an erection: no, I don’t. I haven’t had an erection from a rugby match in a couple years. Not since the All Blacks won the World Cup. I watched the finals in a pub in Tauranga. Hell, I’ll bet every bloke there was hard by the end of the match.”
Preachers eyes bug a little bit and he finishes half his Bloody Mary in a gulp. “I will never understand you.”
I shrug and get back to the game.
The door to the pub opens and slams shut behind us and thudding footsteps pound their way to stand right between Preacher and me. One heavy hand settles on my shoulder, another heavy hand settles on Preacher’s.
“Just the two I’ve been looking for,” Gunney says, then his eyes drift on up to the TV. “What the hell are you two watching this early in the morning?”
“Ozzy’s porn, brother,” Preacher says.
Gunney nods and claps me on the shoulder again. “I’ll say. Fuck, I forgot the All Blacks played today. But damn, they’re looking good. That new guy they brought up as hooker is doing a fucking dynamite job.”
“There are hookers?” Preacher says, suddenly sounding more interested.
I nod. “Yeah. Hookers play in the front line, between the loosehead prop and the tighthead prop. Their job is to hook the ball out during the scrum.”
“Scrum? Loosehead prop? Are those even fucking words?”
“It’s a great game, Preacher. Show some respect,” Gunney says.
“Pull up a pint and a chair, bro,” I say. “The second half should be starting in just a few minutes.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry brother, you two will have to catch up on it later.”
“You’re joking, mate,” I say. “Right?”
Preacher frowns. “What’s up, Gunney?”
“I’ve got a job for you two. It’s top priority. Takes precedence even over rugby.”
“You lie. Nothing could be more important,” I say.
“I’m not kidding around,” Gunney says, then snatches up my phone. “What’s this?”
“Someone’s sweet on Roxanna’s friend, Maria. He sent her something,” Preacher says.
“She’s a good catch, Ozzy. When she calls, I’ll make sure she knows you’re thinking of her and will call her back as soon as you’re able,” Gunney says. Then he shoves my phone in his pocket. He takes two burner phones out and sets them down on the table.
I frown at mine a moment. It looks like he bought it at a dollar store and I do not like where this is headed. And besides, the package still hasn’t marked as ‘delivered’ yet. That kind of suspense isn’t healthy.
“What’s this about?” I say.
“You two are going dark. Your cell phones, your guns — anything registered or traceable to you — I want you to turn it in. Now. Grab some unregistered firearms from the armory and switch out the plates on your bikes.”
I stare at my cheap burner phone and try to remember the tracking number for the package. “This sounds serious. What’s the job?”
“It is serious. I just heard from some of our old business partners some pretty distressing news. A while back, some asshat by the name of David Ardoin was working for the Dixie Mafia and got picked up in the backwoods of Montana. He was trying to expand the hillbilly syndicate’s territory. Now he’s threatening to flip and rat out everyone he’s worked with to get himself out of jail.”
“Why do we care about a bunch of bogans?” I say.
“Normally we don’t give a shit about trailer trash. Except this trailer trash bought a some of our cargo. A lot of our cargo. Which means we’ve got a vested interest in shutting him up before he talks.”
“So it’s an intimidation thing?” I say. “Rough him up, make him keep his mouth shut?”
Preacher shakes his head. “No. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
Gunney nods. “It’s a ‘kill this bastard and even if his lawyers if you need to’ thing. This is serious, boys. And urgent. Seek and destroy with extreme prejudice. If this bastard talks, we’ll have the feds kicking in our doors and we will not like the consequences. So get your asses to Missoula — now — and get it done.”
“Shouldn’t we call church and vote on this?” I say.
It is the usual protocol. Putting out a hit on someone is a club decision.
“No time. This guy needs to be dead yesterday,” Gunney says. “You’re our enforcer, Ozzy. This is your chance to show you’re more than just a pretty face and a funny accent. You’re in charge of making sure this asshole doesn’t live long enough to mention our club. Welcome to leadership.”
He pats me on the back and flips off the TV.
Preacher and I head to the armory to grab some of the unregistered guns our club keeps around for the times we need to do some of the dirtier work that’s part of the MC life. The last sound I hear as the door shuts behind me is the TV coming back to life and the score of the game: 28-14.
Fuck. What a way to start the day.
All I wanted was the simple joy of a good morning — my team winning, hearing Maria’s voice, spending some time with my brothers. But now, I’ve got to drive a few states over and put a bullet in some rat’s brain. It isn’t all bad, though. A mission like this is a chance to prove myself to my brothers — that the enforcer patch on my cut isn’t there by chance.
I owe them my life. They took me in, made me family. A mission like this is what loyalty’s all about.
Still, mission like this shouldn’t be too hard — find the rat, kill the rat. I can do that.
The scenery should be nice and pretty, too. Until the murdering starts.
I pause in the armory, checking over a Sig Sauer P226 before I shove it down the back of my pants. Somewhere in chamber, there’s a bullet with the name David Ardoin written all over it. But as portentous as it sounds — knowing I’m riding a thousand miles just to kill some dirty bloke — I hardly spare a thought for the man himself. I’ve got two things on my mind: proving myself to my brothers, and finding time to spend with a beautiful woman in some law office in Chicago.
I hope she’s having a better morning than I am.