Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
A couple days later, had just unlocked the main door and turned towards my office, when it swung open. A man I had only seen on a couple of occasions came marching in. It seemed officer Ash King, in all his uniformed glory, had graced us with his presence.
“We’re not open yet. Come back later,” I told him.
“I’m not here for a drink.”
“Then you shouldn't be here.”
“Where's my partner?”
“I don’t know,” I responded, crossing my arms in front of me.
“You were the last person who saw him. What the hell did you do?” he commanded, stepping into my space.
I stood my ground.
“Is there a problem?” Kujo called over as he stepped out from behind the bar.
The one thing Ash didn’t realize was that even if I was physically alone, I was never truly alone. My club had my back, and I had theirs.
“I’m looking for my partner and your girlfriend here won’t tell me where he is.”
“So not his girlfriend,” I gagged.
“Don’t care,” he responded. “Tell me where the fuck he is!”
“Don't forget where you are and who you're talking to,” my brother warned. “I don’t give a shit if your daddy is the chief or the pope. You will treat us with respect in here.” Kujo moved his cut to reveal the gun he had.
Ash retreated a step or two and said, “Just tell me where his body is.”
“And admit our guilt?” Brandt asked
Torn between telling him or throwing him out the door, I remained silent. I knew Ash wasn't a danger to Braxton, but at the same time, I didn’t want to tell anyone where he was.
“Not likely,” Brandt scoffed from his perch at the table next to the door. From the look on Ash’s face, he didn’t check all the corners before storming in here looking for his answers.
The truth of the matter was, I gave Braxton the addresses of a couple of safe houses. He was supposed to pick the one he wanted to go to, and not tell me where he was until a predetermined date.
“I’m not here in an official capacity,” he told me. “I’m just worried about him. The last time I spoke with him, he was with a girl. I know now that girl was you.”
“And?” I pressed.
“Is he dead or alive?”
I sighed. “Let's talk in my office.”
“You don’t owe this guy anything,” Kujo told me.
“He’s only worried about his partner, guys.”
“Follow me,” I told him.
Ash trailed close behind me and when I noted his hand on his gun, I had to say something when we were out of sight. Sidetracked by yet another package waiting for me, I scowled. This whole situation was getting out of hand. It seemed lately that every other day something showed up here with a card on it from Dirk. He just didn’t know when to let up. Whether it was flowers, teddy bears or, like today’s obvious box of chocolates, I didn’t want any of it. I should have just thrown it in the garbage, but I didn’t have the energy to go out back yet.
“I know you’re not planning on using it, but take your hand off your weapon while you’re in here. My brothers get a little twitchy when I’m in danger.” Then I pointed at the chair across from me, implying Ash should sit there for our impromptu discussion.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, as he removed his hand from the buckle of the holster and reluctantly took the seat. “I’m sorry, but this place gives me the creeps. It’s like walking into a labyrinth.”
“A labyrinth?” I asked.
“Yeah, I keep expecting the Goblin King to jump out and give me a task to retrieve my partner that I’ll never be able to complete.”
I laughed. “Did you ask the goblins to take him far away?”
“No,” he replied as he took his hand off his gun.
“How about this? As long as you don’t mess with us, I promise you’re safe from me and mine.”
“I can’t promise not to mess with you,” he replied.
“I’m just talking about the obvious. I respect you need to do your job. If it’s warranted, arrest us. However, if you ever pull your gun on us, you’d better be ready to use it because we won’t be the ones to die.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, that’s a promise,” I replied. “I promise as long as you don’t try to kill us, we won’t have a reason to protect ourselves. In the same token, we won’t kill you unless you give us a reason to.”
He barked out a laugh. “Now I see why he’s so hung up on you.”
I exhaled.
“I’ve known your partner for three years,” I told him as I moved the wrapped box to the far edge of my desk and leaned forward.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like gifts?” he asked.
“Not those kind.”
“You aren’t even gonna check who those are from?” he asked
“Nope.”
He nodded. “You already know who they’re from.”
“Yup. A not so secret admirer.”
“A stalker?”
“You could say that.”
“Does Braxton know who it is?”
“No, he doesn’t know. I’ll deal with it if it gets too serious.”
“Fair enough.”
“Back to what I was saying. I’ve known him for three years. Aside from him pissing me off most of the time, I have no reason to kill him.”
“He needs to come back.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. There are still people out there who want him dead.”
“He is being accused of killing all of those men in the parking lot. I know he didn’t murder them in cold blood, but he still needs to be cleared.”
“Even if I knew where he was, which I don’t, that won’t happen.”
Sensing I wouldn’t budge, he got up and went to the door.
“You might have the protection of your club inside these four walls, but if I don’t hear from my partner in the next twenty-four hours, I’m gonna keep coming back every day until you cave.”
“You do whatever you feel is right,” I told him.
After Ash left, I felt drained. My head fell back against the top of the black leather executive chair and I allowed my eyes to close for a moment. What to do, what to do? Dirk was supposed to be a dalliance, something to pass the time and a way to get my kicks. I pondered over my options. Still having not reached a decision, there was a knock on my office door.
“Come in,” I called out.
There was no reason for me to be concerned about my safety on this side of the door. First, they had to get through the bar without being noticed. Next, they had to get past Archer or whoever I had tending the bar for me. Last, no one was stupid enough to knock on my door when they didn’t deserve access. Besides, they had to get past the bar and the bartender for the evening, and when I was in here, that wouldn’t happen.
Brandt waltzed in like he owned the place, and before he flopped down in the chair across from me, he snatched the gift off my desk. Before I could stop him, he opened it and dug around inside. He placed the items one by one on the edge of my desk so I could see them.
I picked up the box of chocolate. It was an imported chocolate from Switzerland. The only way to get them was to order straight from the factory. Dirk had outdone himself this time, but it didn’t matter.
“Don’t eat any of them.”
“Do you think I'm stupid?” I said. “I’m not even gonna open the box. I've watched enough documentaries on stalkers to know that’s foolish.”
“I didn’t think you were, but I thought I should voice my opinion on the matter, just in case.” He grabbed the box and tossed it in the trash. “What is it with this guy?”
“He’s the same as any other guy I’ve known. They think they can own me or better yet, save me from my life.”
“They’re not all like that,” he assured me.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“When was the last time you actually dated?”
“I don’t need to date anyone. I don’t need a man to complete me.”
“You never know, you might like it.”
If Dirk wasn’t careful, he might find himself on the wrong side of the Reapers.
We had connections around the city. People that owed us favours. Morticians who would look the other way while we used their facilities to dispose of our bodies. We even had some out-of-town connections who would switch out cadavers so we could eliminate our bodies that way. No one said killing people couldn’t result in something beneficial to society. In fact, a couple of years ago we found a body farm just across the border, grateful for the donations we sent their way.
We never buried them.
That shit could be dug up.
One of our old targets was probably siting on somebody's mantle in a gorgeous urn spending all eternity with Uncle Walter or cousin Patty-Sue. or if he was lucky, he was spread out in the water at a gorgeous beach on the Pacific Ocean or flung into the wind off a cliff in Kananaskis. Either way, none of the law enforcement officials were going to find him.
Even if they could somehow trace their disappearance back to the Reapers, we didn't have a motive.
Better yet, the chance of them actually being reported missing or presumed dead by their loved ones was slim to none.
Why couldn’t I have stayed away?
He should have been a one and done, but it was just so easy because he had been in my classes.
Ease of access.
* * *
The next day, everyone knew to steer clear of me.
I spent most of the afternoon at the gym, sparring with whoever was willing to step up to the mat. After dealing out several concussions and receiving a split lip, Brandt kicked me out. He told me to head straight home and ice my face.
It wasn’t just Hunter causing me grief. The night of the flesh market, I shut off my phone so we wouldn’t be disturbed and forgot to turn it on until the next morning. There were so many texts from Dirk that I just had to leave it buzz. I couldn’t do anything on the phone until they finished coming in.
It was super annoying.
The whole time I had been fucking him, he never came this unhinged. In fact, he acted like he knew the deal. We only conversed when it came to school or if we needed to get off. That was it, nothing more, nothing less.
Then there was that stupid fucking package on my desk.
It didn’t matter how much I drank after I saw that package; everything still bothered me with Dirk. Maybe that was why my body was on the constant setting of high alert. I knew I would have to deal with him soon, but I just didn’t know the best course of action. If he disappeared, I knew it would come straight back to me.
It was the middle of the night, and nothing felt right. Something woke me from a dead sleep, which was why I was traipsing through the halls.
It could have been anything, but I wasn’t na?ve enough to ignore my instincts. So the first thing I did was go downstairs to check on the bar. As I came to the bottom of the stairs, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The first and most obvious thing I noticed was the lights were all off. Never in the year and a half I had been living and working in the clubhouse had the lights gone off in the bar.
Bikers knew how to have a good time.
Their gatherings went all night long, often past the first sunrise. Countless times I’d had to wake more than a couple of the guys up so we could have the place cleaned for the next day. They seemed to crash wherever they ran out of steam. Sometimes in the middle of the floor, and other times they had even been on top of the pool table.
After being on the road all the time, never being able to lay their heads in the same places, made them learn how to sleep anywhere.
Just before I flicked on the light, I glanced around, trying to figure out what was creeping me out. When I spotted the telltale shape of one of the two habitual tankards in his bed of choice, it momentarily placated me. Just beyond the pool table where Gunner had passed out between two buxom biker chicks was a man who was entirely too still for my liking.
Leaned up against the jukebox in a chair we tossed out right around the same time as I arranged for the stiff formerly known as Jerry to be converted to compost.
I took out my phone and texted my brother.
Me: Hey
Kujo: What’s up?
Me: Are you in your room?
Kujo: No, at April’s.
Me: How long until you get here?
Kujo: 20 mins. Why?
Me: Just come back now.
Kujo: What the fuck’s going on?
Me: Not over the phone, just get back here
Kujo: On my way
Me: Thanks.
I stood behind the bar with one of my compact guns in my hand, pointed at the entrance where he stood. The safety was off and I had already chambered one of the fifteen rounds in the gun. From where I was, I had the best vantage point to see all entrances and exits. I could also dive for cover behind the bar, which we paid to be retrofitted to take on fire and protect whoever took refuge behind it.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the distinct sound of my brother’s bike signalled his arrival fifteen minutes later. He must have hauled ass to get here. Kujo entered the building with his gun drawn, preparing for a fight. Neither of us were willing to forget any of our training or take any chances. Anything could have happened between me messaging and him arriving. Not to mention the real possibility of someone overpowering me, taking my phone and texting my family so that they could walk into a trap.
Our eyes met.
We lowered our guns, shutting off our safeties at the same time. With his attention on me, I tilted my head in the direction of the corpse laden jukebox.
“We’ve got a problem.”
“No shit,” was his response.