Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Selkie
Eight parks his truck on the curb effectively blocking the entrance to the alley.
A couple of teenagers are hanging around across the road, eyeing us curiously. One’s short and gangly, the other taller and broader.
“What are you doing out here at this hour?” I say to them in my best mom voice.
Eight gives me a shoulder bump. “Behave.”
“How is me being concerned about two teenagers being out in the wee hours of the morning misbehaving?”
“Because them being out here doing whatever the hell they’re doing is not our primary objective.”
Hangman interrupts our bickering. “They’ll do.” As if we’re supposed to know what that means. He jerks his head towards the alley and says to the kids, “Get over here.”
They saunter over like encountering a vicious bike gang is an everyday occurrence.
Hangman isn’t impressed by their bravado. “Get in here,” he snarls, yanking the taller kid by the arm and throwing him into the alley hard enough to make the kid stumble. The other boy looks like he’s thinking of bolting, but Eight steps behind him, effectively cutting off his avenue of escape.
“Fucking assholes,” Hangman mutters as he reaches inside his cut.
For a minute, I think he’s gonna kill them, but he pulls out a bundle of cash and peels two bills off.
“Two hundred now,” he says as he hands it to the tall kid. “Two hundred when we get back. Keep an eye on the bikes.”
The kid who took the cash, nods. “Yeah. We can do that.”
“Our bikes disappear because you fuck off, I’ll hunt you down and scar you for life. Understand? I got no patience for shirkers.”
“I don’t know what a shirker is,” says the little guy.
“Fuck me,” Hangman replies. “Someone get this fuckin’ kid a dictionary.”
The taller kid says, “Don’t need one. We get the gist.” He’s acting like he’s too cool for school.
I shake my head at him. “You should be more afraid, you little fu…, uh… freak. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise.
” I don’t know why I’ve suddenly become a Hangman cheerleader.
Maybe it’s because I know Eight’s backstory and how Hangman was involved.
Or maybe it’s because Hangman has a psycho reputation that’s most likely well-earned.
Hangman smirks at me as he starts to walk away from the boys, then stops and turns around. “Give your mute friend his share.” Then he waits until the guy with the cash reluctantly hands over half of it.
It makes me think about what a dating profile would look like for Hangman. Eats dogs and cats for dinner. Murders people and picks his teeth with their rib bones. Lack’s patience, diplomacy, and any signs of sanity. But has good teeth and a sense of fair play.
“Can we get on with it?” I say because I don’t want to let my thoughts leak out of my mouth, which is something that happens a lot.
Most of the bikers look at me like I’m a wasp they’d like to squash, except Eight, who seems to know that would be a bad idea.
“We are getting on with it, Selkie,” he says exasperated.
“We gotta make sure we’ve got a ride out of here in case we have to leave fast. And we have to make sure the rest of the brothers are where they’re supposed to be. ”
I give him a slight eyeroll. “Fine.”
While we wait in the dark alley, some of the bikers talk softly to each other, but no one is moving except me. I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet and shaking my shoulders around like a boxer about to step into the ring, but when I try to pace, Eight grabs my bicep. “Chill, babe.”
“Don’t call her babe,” Hangman growls. “She’s not your babe. She’s a harridan.” He thinks for a moment. “Yeah, call her a harridan.”
I look up at Eight. “That’s a pretty big—”
He shakes me. “Stop, Selkie. Please stop.”
The words suggest he’s pleading with me, but the tone of his voice suggests that I deserve a good hard spanking.
Hmmm. Maybe I do.
Finally, after what seems like a decade, Joker gets the text from Coyote. He reads it, then grimly says, “Let’s go.” To Hangman and me, he says, “You two stick to the plan.”
Is Joker kidding, lumping me and Hangman in the same sentence?
“Fuck off,” Hangman says to him, which is what I was about to say, but now can’t say because if I do, then it validates what Joker said about me and Hangman being alike. Eight tightens his grip on me in anticipation of me opening my mouth, but I keep it shut. Aren’t I full of surprises?
As we slip up to the warehouse, I say quietly to Eight, “Don’t get killed.”
He looks at me with soft eyes. “Same, Selkie.”
“Save that shit for later,” Hangman gags. “Or never.” Then he storms past Joker and slams open the front door.
“Jesus Christ, Hangman!” Joker shouts as he tries to grab him by his cut, and misses. Hangman, despite his bulk, moves like a butterfly.
“Renfrew! Where the fuck are you!” Hangman’s booming voice echoes in the big space.
The 311 Boys’ clubhouse is an empty tomb, but that’s not a surprise.
The sun is starting to rise and only rescuers (that’s us) and idiots (the kids guarding the bikes) are still up.
However, the room is dimly lit, which makes me nervous.
Maybe not all of the gang is sleeping. Maybe some are waiting in the shadows, ready to open fire on us.
And there’s a few doors at the back, which could conceal more gang bangers. Or maybe Henri and Oscar are back there, tied up and bruised from the beating they were given.
Or maybe they’re not, Selkie. Chill babe. Or harridan. Just chill.
But if they weren’t tied up, why aren’t they rushing into our arms, happy to see us?
Maybe they’re not here at all.
Maybe they’re not happy to see us.
I peer into the gloom hoping to find our two little runaways, but don’t see them anywhere. I also don’t see Jonny Fry, but Sadie, the asshole Blackbeard is dead asleep under one of the dim lights, slumped in an overstuffed armchair, his mouth hanging open as he snores loudly.
My heart gives a little jump for joy that I’ve finally tracked down him down, but then I remind myself that we’re here to find Henri and Oscar.
Renfrew, who had previously been lounging on a couch, jerks to his feet. “Who the fuck let you in?”
Renfrew has all the hallmarks of a rich kid.
He’s blond, with blue eyes, an awesome nose, perfect teeth and great shoes.
There are definitely no mixed marriages in his genetics.
He sounds tough, but I can see fear and confusion on his face.
He might be a dangerous asshole, but Hangman’s all of that and more.
“We walked in. None of your potheads out there to stop us,” he says with a smirk as he swaggers up to Renfrew.
“Keep your voice down,” I say to Hangman. “People are sleeping.” What I actually mean is that we don’t want to wake the gangbangers up and get ourselves killed.
I realize I should have said that part, because Hangman furrows his forehead, then shifts his glare to Eight. “What the fuck is wrong with her?”
Eight shrugs. “Hard to narrow it down.”
I furrow my forehead at Eight, but don’t call him out, because I’m not sure how to narrow it down myself.
While Hangman’s distracted, Renfrew does a quick survey of the room, eyes landing on the rest of the Jury, who are now lounging inside, next to the other exits. They all look relaxed and uninterested in what’s going down, but I’m pretty sure that’s for show.
Renfrew returns his attention to Hangman, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “You come to join the party? Shouldn’t you be in bed, old man?”
I hold my breath. Don’t kill him, I silently say to Hangman hoping he’s a bit psychic. At least until we find Henri and Oscar.
The expression on Hangman’s face flickers from anger, fury, and rage before settling on a disturbing grin as he decides to let the ‘old man’ reference go. “Not here to trade insults, Renfrew. You got a couple of kids that belong to the Jury. You give them back and we got no problem.”
Sadie snorts, then opens his eyes. They’re glassy, unfocused, staring across the room at nothing. He struggles to get up, but his knees buckle and he drops back into his chair. “I gotta go home,” he slurs.
“Get the fuck out of here, then,” Renfrew says as he glances at the Blackbeard.
Sadie rises again, staggers towards us, then literally falls into Hangman. Hangman doesn’t even twitch as Sadie slides off his chest and falls on the floor.
Groaning, he flips to his back and looks up at Hangman. He doesn’t recognize his enemy. “Give me a hand up, pal.” He reaches towards Hangman.
“Fuck that, you stupid sonofabitch.” Hangman rears back and viciously kicks Sadie in the ribs.
“Fuck!!!!!!” Sadie screams as he hugs his stomach and turtles. Then vomits.
“Jesus,” I say as I wrinkle my nose. I don’t much like Sadie either, but I don’t think he deserves being kicked to death. I try to divert Hangman’s attention. “Save that shit for later. We’re here for the kids, not to satisfy your bloodlust.”
“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, woman,” Hangman growls in a tone that would make me wet my pants if Eight wasn’t with me. But he is, and my anger at Hangman boils over
“You shut you’re fucking mouth, man!” I reply.
Eight grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “Don’t forget why we’re here.”
“I haven’t forgotten! That’s the point!”
“Then let this play out.” Eight’s voice is too calm, too steady.
“Fuck off!” I snap as I try to shrug out of his grip.
Eight’s face and eyes blank as he squeezes my shoulders hard enough to bruise them, but whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t share.
Unfortunately, Hangman’s kick brings Sadie out of his stupor and my squabble with Eight draws me to his attention. “I know you!” he mumbles, not smart enough to roll out of Hangman’s range. “You’re the bitch that—”
Hangman kicks him again.
“Back off, Hangman,” Renfrew says. “You’re on my turf. Show some respect.”
Hangman looks around the room. “What’re you gonna do, asshole?”
Renfrew shrugs. “Nothing.” He pauses. “Not now. Some other day.”
Hangman reaches for his gun, but Joker says, “Don’t. We’ll deal with his shit later.”
Hangman nods subtly then balls his fist. “We came for the kids.”
Renfrew ignores him. “Finish what you were saying, Sadie.”
“Fuck that!” Hangman bellows. “Where are the fucking kids?”
Sadie points a shaky finger at me. “That bitch is a fuckin’ bounty hunter. A shit one, picked me up and then couldn’t get me into the police station.”
I momentarily forget my purpose for being here as my ego kicks in. “Yeah, you pussy. Because your friends showed up and rescued your ass.”
“You Selkie Fleming?” Renfrew asks casually.
“Yeah. What’s it to you?”
“Would you shut up!” Eight snaps at me.
Renfrew grins viciously. “You can have your kids as long as I get the cunt.”
“Done!” Hangman says.
“Fuck off, you bastard!” I say, not sure who I’m yelling at.
“She’s not staying,” Eight says to Renfrew in a dead voice. “Get us the kids now or I’ll fuckin’ rip your balls off and feed them to you.”
Joker sighs. “Why does everything have to be a fucking shitshow?” He turns to Renfrew. “Most of your crew’s fucked off or too fucked up to have your back so let’s not pretend you’re holding the aces.” He flicks his head at me. “You want this pain in the ass, pick her up on her own.”
Hangman glares at Joker. “I say she stays, fuckwit.”
“I’m not staying,” I say.
“She’s not staying,” Eight says.
Joker changes the subject as he glares at Renfrew. “This isn’t a negotiation, fucker.”
Hangman picks up the thread. “Joker’s fuckin’ right. No one’s got your back, you ain’t got a say so in what happens.”
Renfrew pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Take the bitch home with you. Lola, Benji, get the fuckin’ brats! I’m tired of this shit.”