Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Eight
It’s an hour after midnight as I slip out of bed.
Selkie is sprawled out on the mattress, one of my tees riding high on her hips.
Her long hair flares around the pillow, shiny in the moonlight.
She likes it in a ponytail, and I like it however she wants to wear it.
I love it when she takes the elastic out of her hair and runs her hands through it to untangle it.
That’s when my fingers start to itch, that’s when I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her until she can’t breathe, then fuck her ‘til she cries mercy.
I watch as she softly breathes in and out. Sometimes it unnerves me to see her asleep and silent. She’s so full of life, so challenging, has something to say all the time. She’s unique, one of a kind. She lights up my core, makes me feel alive. Makes me crave her every hour of every day.
And she’s committed to me. And to Oscar and Henri and to everything she does.
She won’t give up her bounty hunting, but I won’t stop asking her to.
We argue about that. She says she has Brambles.
I say it’s not enough. She says it was before I came along.
And I say, I can’t lose you to some fuck who wants you dead.
That’s why I’m out of bed and getting dressed. As I’m putting my gun in my holster, she shifts to her back and watches me with half-open eyes. “Where are you going?” she murmurs.
“Got a Jury thing,” I lie as I kneel on the mattress and hover over her, kissing her softly on the forehead. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
She cradles my face in her hand and touches her lips to mine. “Don’t get caught,” she whispers. Then she closes her eyes like she hasn’t a care in the world.
In the dark, I wheel my bike out of the garage then walk it a block away before I start it up. Oscar will still hear it, but he’s used to my nocturnal wanderings, so he’ll go quickly back to sleep.
The cool night clears my head as I head to the clubhouse.
Since I met Selkie, I don’t ride as often as I like to, but it’s a small price to pay for having her and Henri with me and Oscar.
When I do get out on the bike, it’s often with my brothers, but I take Selkie out a lot too.
I’ve made love to her outside under the endless stars and on my bike.
She’s full of passion and adventure. Fearless.
But she wants things she’s afraid to ask for because she struggles with the past, with the hurt she’s felt when her trust was violated.
Deep down, she knows that I will never betray her just like I know she wouldn’t betray me.
She needs time and I’m a patient man. In the meantime, I can read her like a book.
I know what she wants and I’ll give it to her no matter how much she protests.
When I get to the clubhouse, I use the keypad to open the gates.
The prospects will be here but probably sleeping.
We like to keep an eye on things during the day, but at night, the place is Fort Knox thanks to Coyote.
I walk to another keypad, well-hidden, and punch in another code to turn off the alarm and disarm the property.
I ride my bike inside and close the gate.
Inside, Hangman is waiting for me. He’s got his hair brushed back in a ponytail and has trimmed his beard and moustache.
He’s wearing new jeans, leather loafers and a clean grey henley under his cut.
He doesn’t look like the president of an outlaw bike club, but then again, I don’t look like a member.
I’m dressed like he is. A normal guy out for a night on the town.
“Ready for this?” he says.
I nod and deftly catch the silencer he tosses to me.
He walks toward the door. “Let’s go then.”
When we’re on the road to Reno I revisit the plan in my head.
It could be quick and dirty, or it could get complicated.
Complicated means more people die. Either way, it’ll get finished.
At the Grand Sierra, Hangman and I split up, parking our bikes in different areas of the parking lot.
I tuck my cut into my saddle bag, then stroll to the casino.
Inside, I play a couple of slots, then head up the elevator to the penthouse suite. Hangman is already waiting. We pull out our weapons and screw on the silencers. It won’t completely muffle the noise, but up here, no one will notice.
At the door, Hangman uses a small remote Coyote rigged that triggers an override on the door. The bolt slides back and we gingerly step in. Hangman is loud, aggressive and likes to kick in things, but tonight I can barely hear him breathe.
We’ve decided not to target everyone. Just a couple of Kozlov’s boys. Enough to send a warning to the rest. Hangman nods towards the main suite then heads to another bedroom.
Kozlov’s bedroom door isn’t locked, and the so-called Pakhan is sleeping like a man untroubled by anything. I’m about to change that.
“Kozlov,” I say in a quiet but firm voice as I staddle him, pinning his arms to his sides. I want this clean and quiet and if he gets his hand on the gun I’m sure is hidden beneath his pillow, it’ll attract attention. Then there will be bloodbath.
His eyes pop open and he gasps as he sees me. “What do you want?”
“Selkie says goodbye.”
I pull the trigger.
When we meet outside, I say to Hangman, “How many?”
“Two,” he says. “Kozlov?”
“Dead.”
He nods.
I walk back to my bike, and put on my cut, then join Hangman on the road.
We head to a different part of town. In this neighborhood, people live in big mansions behind tall fences with guard houses blocking the entrance.
We park our bikes in a parking lot a couple of blocks away.
Coyote is waiting for us at a hidden gate in the fence.
“Everything’s disarmed,” he says. “The guard at the gate will wake up with a headache, but he’ll live. ”
Stark and Zero did some reconnaissance yesterday. Followed Renfrew around. Determined that he’s home for the night, sleeping snug between his satin sheets. His parents are out of town, which is good. I don’t want to kill them, even if they deserve it for raising a prick like Renfrew.
“Thanks,” I say to Coyote as he heads towards a white van where he keeps his surveillance equipment. He throws a wave over his shoulder.
“You good?” Hangman asks.
“Yeah, this won’t take long.”
I walk onto the property, skirting from tree to tree. There aren’t many, but enough to give me cover as I move silently towards the house.
Hangman was supposed to wait by the gate, but I know he’s following me. I can sense him. He wants to have my back in case something unplanned happens. He’s the guy who will stand watch and shoot anyone who tries to stop me.
When I reach the house, I slip around the back. Easier to get in and more cover in the dark. There’s a set of stairs leading to a cellar. I walk down them and peer through a dirty window. The room is empty.
I wrap my cut around the butt of my gun and tap at the window.
It breaks easily with a minimum of noise.
I stay still and listen for a full five minutes.
There’s no movement anywhere, so I climb through the window.
I admit I’m not the most graceful guy in the world, but I’m also not a bull in a China shop like Joker or Hangman.
Still, I thump down on the floor a little too hard.
I shudder as the dust settles. I don’t much like basements and this cellar smells musty and abandoned, but I wait again in case I was heard.
When enough time has passed without movement, I flick on my flashlight and slip out into a small hall with a couple of doors on each side that I ignore. It’s the stairs I’m focused on.
As soon as I’m on the main floor, I check my phone to find the layout of the house that Coyote sent me.
Then I orient myself. The open spaces, the smell of newness, the shine from the floors.
It makes me want to vomit. Rich people are sometimes the biggest crooks.
Not all of them, but I think of people with so much money they could feed half the world.
And yet, their only goal is to make more money, which is why they influence governments, cheat on their taxes, do insider trading. Destroy people that get in their way.
The rest of us are peons. The ants that scurry around paid shitty salaries so that the rich fucks have backs to climb on as they fight for dominance.
I’m a criminal too, I remind myself. I make a good living from the Jury’s activities. I give Oscar what he needs, at least materially. I don’t need a mansion to prove I have a big dick. Selkie has already established I do.
I jerk out of my musings, take another look at the map on my phone, then tuck it away and head upstairs. Big staircase, wide hall. Pictures on the wall that make me wish I brought a can of spray paint with me.
It’s easy to find Renfrew’s bedroom and I slide the door open cautiously. He’s in bed alone, which makes me breathe easier. He’s on his back, on the covers, naked. I want to shoot his dick off first. Maybe I’ll do it second. After he’s dead. No screaming that way.
He’s sleeping deeply, heavy breaths with the stale smell of weed and booze. I stand over him, gun in my hand. “Hey nutsack,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t move.
I punch him in the head. That gets his attention.
His eyes pop open, but it takes him a moment to focus. When he finally comes to his senses, he sees the gun first, then looks past it to see my face.
“What do you want? Did you bring the slut with you?”
I’m disappointed that he’s high. That he isn’t fully aware he’s about to die.
“No,” I say. “She wanted to kill you, so I left her home.”
He sits up, gropes around for his cigarette package. As he lights up, he says, “Then why are you here?”
“To kill you myself.”
He comes to his full senses when he realizes I’m serious.
I see the fear in his eyes, the slack of his face. Exactly what I was waiting for.
I pull the trigger. The lit cigarette falls on the bedding, and I briefly think of putting it out but decide it’s a good night for a bonfire.
When I’m back on the outside, Hangman is leaning against the wall, hands in his jean pockets. “Took you long enough,” he complains.
“It took a little while to wake him up.”
“We’re done then.” He heads towards his bike. “This is too much fucking walkin’. Gotta be an easier way.”
I catch up to him. “I’m not done. Johnny Fry is next.”
Hangman stops abruptly. “You didn’t say you were gonna do him.”
“I wasn’t thinking about it at first, but the bastard started this shit. Had Selkie kidnapped, used her as collateral. Set everything in motion.”
“Yeah, he did, but you can’t kill him.”
“I can,” I reply, pretending I’m mistaking his meaning. “I got a few more bullets in my pistol.”
“Don’t fuckin’ play games with me, cocksucker. He’s the bounty hunter’s father. You do that, she’ll be done with you. You don’t fuck up family whether they deserve it or not.”
“She won’t figure it out.”
“She’s not a half-wit. Three men die tonight. Kozlov, Renfrew. She won’t care. But add Jonny Fry to the mix, and it’s over.”
“Fine,” I say, not really meaning it. “I won’t kill him tonight.”
“No, you won’t kill him at all unless the girlfriend asks you to. And she ain’t gonna do that.”
He stalks to his bike, gets on and roars away.
I stand for a moment breathing in the night air. I just killed two men and felt nothing. What does that say about me? They deserved it, yeah, because they threatened the woman I love, threatened my kids. When I killed the eight men that raped Chloe, my rage was overwhelming.
But I was young then, just a guy trying to make a living to support his family. Lost after what happened to Chloe. Not a killer, but a naive man who believed in the law and the greater good.
Now, I’m a killer. I know the law is bullshit. Justice is personal, a shortcut to the inadequate punishment that takes years for the courts to mete out.
I let Chloe down. I won’t make that mistake with Selkie.
I get on my bike as I think about Selkie and Chloe. They’re polar opposites. Selkie never blinked an eye when I essentially told her I was a serial killer. Chloe would have freaked out.
Selkie would never kill herself, no matter what happened to her. She’d kill the fucks herself.
Selkie would never abandon Henri.
I let the bitterness of the past wash through me and disappear. Two different women. Two women I love. My heart aches for Chloe, but my heart beats for Selkie.
When I get back to the house, I strip and crawl into bed. Selkie turns and snuggles into my arms. “Did you kill someone?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
I decide to be honest. She’ll figure it out anyway when she hears the news. “Kozlov and Renfrew.”
“Good,” she murmurs. “The bastards deserved it.” She feels nothing for them either.
I decide to dive in. “I was gonna kill Jonny Fry but decided not to.”
“Good again,” she murmurs, her body as relaxed as it was before.
I resent the fact that Hangman was right. “Why good? He’s the one who started this shit.”
“Yeah. He’s a prick.” She still hasn’t fully woken up. “But you can’t kill him.”
“Why.”
“He’s Henri’s grandfather. You kill him, Henri finds out, she’ll hate you. Doesn’t matter that he’s a prick.”
“She doesn’t even know him.”
“Which is worse, because she’ll idealize him.”
I pull her in close and kiss the top of her head. “Yeah,” I say as I close my eyes. “You’re right.”