16. Blake
16
BLAKE
“Remember, tonight’s deal is supposed to be quick and easy,” I lecture, mounting my Street Bob and fastening my helmet. “We’re making the exchange and then getting the hell out of there.”
“Sounds boring. I’d rather we fuck shit up,” Ozzie says. He stops at his bike parked next to mine. It’s forty damn degrees out and he’s got no jacket on, grinning like the joker he is.
“Do that on your own time. It’s almost Christmas. Nobody’s trying to land in the slammer,” Moses says. Like me, he’s already perched on his bike, ready to roll.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Christmas in jail sounds fucking amazing.”
Moses and me merely shake our heads. Sometimes it’s best to let silence answer Ozzie.
But really, as we wait on Mace, I’m not as focused as I should be. My mind’s not set on the deal we’re about to conduct with the Barreras. It’s on Korine and those damn addictive lips of hers. I’ve had two tastes of ’em now, and there’s no going back.
The second her lips touched mine, it was like a return to everything that was once right in my life. Blood had surged to my cock, and I’d felt a feral need to possess her. Make her mine in all the ways she hasn’t been for years.
I’d kissed the hell out of her. She was breathless and starry-eyed by the time we pulled away. Her lips even poutier, her blinks slow, she’d looked at me like she couldn’t believe what had just happened.
God, she was so damn beautiful in moments like those.
Her sun-kissed brown skin flushed with warmth. Her pixie-cut hair tousled by the wind. It took everything I had not to pick her up and carry her home. Back to my trailer where I’d make love to her through the night. I’d have her forgetting her dickhead of an abusive ex ever existed.
I bite down hard on my jaw, sitting on my Street Bob, waiting on Mace. It helps me keep a handle on the desire that rises up so strong it’s damn near impossible to suppress. Ten long years of craving my girl is enough to make me lose my mind.
If only she knew. If she had any idea…
“Ready?” Mace asks, striding out from the saloon. He glances around at us like a general assessing his soldiers on the brink of war.
In a way, that’s what this is—a new fight’s emerging. We’re under heavy investigation yet here we are, still doing what we do. We’re meeting up with the drug cartel we do business with right under Pulsboro PD’s nose.
They’re no moral authority. You’ve got Captain Vargas who’s long been rumored to take kickbacks. He and that other asshole lieutenant of his refused to let Kori file a police report against the piece of shit woman beater they’re protecting. They’d rather look after Stricklin and his career than help Kori out in her hour of need. They’ve got no right to come for our club. I take pleasure in flouting their precious laws that mean nothing at the end of the day when they don’t follow them their damn selves.
Our engines roar to life and we blast off as a formation in the night. We ride just as expertly when it’s dark out as we do when it’s daylight hours. Tight and staggered in our designated positions, serving as guides and covers for each other. Mace heads us up while I keep the rear in check.
The winds from earlier have grown stronger, colder. The frigid air blows back my longer hair and turns my skin into ice. Again I’m wondering how the hell Ozzie’s managing with no outerwear at all when I’ve got a leather jacket on and I’m still freezing my ass off.
We press on past town borders ’til we’re coming up on the barren shoulder of the road where we agreed to meet the cartel. None of the Barreras have arrived.
“Damn, they’re really about to leave us waiting?” Moses shakes his head, his ski mask covering his face.
“They could be running behind schedule,” Mace says. “We’ll give ’em some time.”
We’ve hidden ourselves behind a wall of trees and bushes. Headlights off and bikes tucked out of view, we’re invisible in the night. The few cars and trucks that do zip by from the highway have no clue what’s lurking out of sight.
I dismount my Street Bob and roll my head on my shoulders. Tension’s knotted up inside me. Any patience wears thin. We’ve been planning this meetup for over two weeks now. Miguel and the rest of his crew know what’s up.
But mostly it’s a recklessness that’s taken root inside me and grown almost out of control in recent weeks. From the moment I spotted Korine on the side of the highway and realized she was back in town; the same night Mom and Bill decided they wanted to fuck my world up even more by drudging up the past.
I need to expend this energy somehow. Get it out of my system.
I’d love nothing more than do it by breaking Stricklin’s face.
“There they are,” Mace says, jutting his chin.
“Took them long enough,” Ozzie mumbles.
Miguel and his guys roll up in a Land Rover. They trample over the shoulder of the road and flick off their headlights within a few feet. The doors bounce open and out steps Miguel and two of his guys. Like us, they’re dressed in nondescript black clothing.
Miguel Barrera himself is about as unassuming as you can get—an average-sized guy with a mustache and friendly eyes. You’d never imagine he’s an integral part of one of southeast Texas’s deadliest cartels. Almost as formidable as Madrigal, a former cartel we’d done business with ’til relations soured.
Me and Mace step forward to meet them.
“You’re late,” I say.
“ Lo siento caballeros ,” Miguel says. “But I brought everything we agreed upon.”
“So did we. Sixty-K if you’ve got what we want.”
“You’ve mentioned you’re expanding your territory. We can provide for larger quantities if you’re seeking to diversify your clientele.”
“We will be now that the Rebels and Hellrazors are out of the picture,” Mace answers.
The corner of Miguel’s lip quirks up. “I heard about that. It sounds like they got what they deserved for messing with the Kings. I’m glad our understanding is more… peaceful.”
Mace glances at me, then back at Miguel. “Let’s keep it that way. So long as you uphold your end of the bargain.”
“Always.”
“HEY! CLEAR OUT!” Ozzie yells suddenly. “We’ve got visitors!”
We hardly wait for more details. The meeting’s cut short within the next second. Ozzie and Moses have retreated from their lookout spots. Miguel and his men have rushed back toward their Land Rover. Me and Mace catch flashing red and blue lights out of the darkness and shrink into the trees and bushes.
A police car has pulled up on the opposite side of the road. Nobody gets out, though the siren lights continue flashing.
We remain where we are, peering through the shrubs, waiting out the tense moment. It’s too dark out to tell who’s in the car or what’s prompted them to pull over. They could be in the middle of a local patrol, or they could be coming from responding to a call.
They could be out looking for somebody.
Us.
It’s not outside the realm of possibility they’ve received a tip or some kind of lead we’d be doing business with the Barreras tonight.
For five long minutes that feel closer to five hours, we’re left waiting to find out. Finally, the officers inside the car seem to decide it’s time to move on. The patrol car merges onto the highway and disappears into the distance.
We creep into view again.
Miguel shakes his head. “Some other time. That was no coincidence. They must’ve suspected a deal was going down in the area.”
“We came out here for a reason,” I snap, taking several steps in his direction. “We finish the deal we started?—”
“You know how to reach me. Another time and place. Something more secure.”
Miguel and his men file into their Land Rover. A cloud of dust lingers in their wake as they make their departure.
“Fuck, that was a waste,” Ozzie groans. “Now what?”
Mace looks no less displeased at what’s gone down. He throws his leg over his Road King and pulls his helmet over his ski mask. “We come up with a better set up for our deal.”
The others gear up to take off, but I’m the last one to follow suit. The sliver of patience I had earlier has run out and my adrenaline’s no less amped up.
Our mission tonight might’ve been a bust, but something’s got to give. I’ll find a release on my own.
* * *
You’d think I’d go home after the failed drug deal with the Barreras. It’d be enough to convince me to call it a night. The small crew that has carried it out rides back to the saloon and we debrief. The other guys indulge in a beer (I drink a Coke). Then everybody’s calling it a night.
As Mace, Ozzie, and Moses go their separate ways, I know I should be headed home to Korine and Sunny. It’s well past midnight, and I’ve got to be up at an early hour to open the shop.
Maybe I would go home if the adrenaline wasn’t still coursing through my veins. I’m still riding a rush of it that’s gone unchecked since our deal didn’t pan out. I need to expend the energy somehow. Make myself feel some kinda payoff that’ll make tonight worthwhile.
Boredom has never suited me well.
Back when I used to drink, it was often one of the reasons I let things spiral. It was what got the ball rolling whenever I was left with my own thoughts and began picking at the toxic parts of myself. I’d seek out a drink to quiet the noise in my head. Make myself forget the bad shit while I also made myself feel good.
At least that’s the reasoning I used at first. After a while I was doing it ’cuz I could. It was out of habit and necessity that I’d seek out a drink to function.
Day by day, I was becoming Bill and didn’t even realize it…
But tonight, with my pulse racing and a taste for excitement, I don’t seek out a drink. I mount my bike, my ski mask covering my face, and I take off from the saloon. I know just where I’m headed as I streak across town in the pitch-black night.
About a block away from Riddell Road, I park my bike behind a bunch of bushes. I dismount and then walk the rest of the way to the perfect house that’s marked 4729.
All the windows are dark. The whole street is quiet.
Everybody’s turned in for the night.
I pause a second longer, scoping out the area, then I make my move. Korine would be pissed if she found out what I’m about to do; she’d be even more pissed if she learned I swiped her old ring of keys to let myself into Stricklin’s house.
But she wouldn’t understand why I need to do this. How I’ve held off as long as I possibly could before acting on my urge to make the piece of shit pay.
This moment is something I’ve fantasized about from the instant Korine and Sunny turned up on my doorstep.
I make no sound, carefully twisting the key in the lock and then slipping into the house. I enter through the rear door in the kitchen. The room’s positioned farther away from the bedroom in the layout of the house. Something I took note of the day I accompanied Korine to pick up her things.
My pulse thrums faster. My adrenaline’s kicked up so many notches, I’m fueled by it. I creep through the dark of the Stricklin household, relishing in every fucking second. It’s a kind of payback in its own to know I have free rein of the place as the asshole sleeps cluelessly upstairs.
Normally, I wouldn’t be in favor of a surprise attack. I’d want to fight fair, man to man.
For Stricklin, I make a special exception. The piece of shit doesn’t believe in fairness himself if he’s ever put his hands on Korine.
So, I’ll make him feel as helpless and afraid as he made her.
I make it to the second floor landing and slink the rest of the way toward their bedroom. Stricklin’s a sloppy sleeper—he’s stretched out across the king-size mattress, only half covered by the comforter, his mouth open in a loud snore. I ease over to his nightstand and snag the firearm I already know is inside; another discovery I’d made the day I came with Korine for her things.
Standing over Stricklin lying in bed, I wait a few seconds before waking him. I do it smacking him hard across the face. The back of my hand collides with his cheek in a bitch slap that echoes in the quiet.
SMACK!
His latest snore is interrupted as he jerks awake. His limbs flail. His eyes pop open in drowsy, pained confusion.
I give him no time to react. Snatching him up by the collar of his t-shirt, I’m tossing him out of his bed. I’m barely letting him touch the ground before delivering a brutal kick to the face. He grunts as he lands in a tumble.
I go in. I beat the shit out of him. Ken Stricklin has no choice but to cower and curl up as I pistol whip him, kick every part of his body within reach, and smash my fist into his face ’til blood’s splattering all over my glove.
“ARGH! STOP!” he yells in desperation. “STOP!”
But I don’t stop. ’Cuz I don’t want to. ’Cuz Ken Stricklin doesn’t deserve it.
He deserves to suffer and bleed out on his own floor.
I lose myself to the violence. To beating the shit out of him ’til I’m out of breath and slicked with sweat and he’s an unconscious heap on the floor.
For the briefest second, I almost keep going. I almost take aim and squeeze the trigger of his pistol to execute him on the spot. The adrenaline buzzing through me surges in my veins and almost pushes me to do it. The high of the moment almost has me in such a trance that I don’t think anything of it.
Almost.
It’s the smallest voice in the furthest part of my brain that stops me. Reminds me how sloppy it would be.
I’ve already risked enough being here.
There’s no doubt Stricklin will know it was me when he regains consciousness. With no evidence, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
An unplanned murder is something else altogether.
I leave with the satisfaction that he’s swollen and bloodied on the floor.
For now, it’s enough.
* * *
“Why do you look so happy?” Sydney asks first thing when she and Mace pull up.
It’s a couple days before Christmas and we’ve decided as a group that we’ll be traveling to the huge Christmas tree lot outside of Boulder to snag a tree for our homes. Mace and Sydney want one for their house, and I’ve decided it’d be nice to have one in the trailer for Korine and Sunny.
I open the door and wait for Korine to crawl in first. Then I slide into the backseat and give a shrug as an answer to Sydney’s question.
“It’s almost Christmas.”
Korine arches a skeptical brow. “I asked him the same this morning. He wouldn’t tell me.”
That’s ’cuz you’d be pissed I beat the shit out of your ex-husband.
Mace is behind the wheel. He peers at us in the rearview mirror and checks if we’re ready to go.
“Ready as ever to pick out a tree and put it up.”
I wink at Korine seated at my side. The corners of her lips tip up, though she says nothing. There’s been unspoken tension between us every moment since we’ve kissed. We’ve barely figured out what it meant and how it potentially changes things.
I won’t lie by saying I’m not expecting more. I’m hoping for Korine to stop overthinking and surrender to what’s inevitable as far as I’m concerned.
It’d taken us years when we were teenagers. All the way up to senior year before we both finally got on the same page and gave a real relationship a try.
No surprise that we flourished—we were so damn happy together that people around town used to tease us about our future. I’d believed it to be true. Even when I wound up caught in my own vices and ruined my shot for good.
Probably why I’m grateful for what feels like a second chance to make it happen.
Make my girl mine.
We travel much of the way with music blasting from the truck stereo. Mace and Sydney bicker over what to play. Mace insists on throwbacks from the early 2000s while Sydney changes the Spotify station more than once to Christmas classics.
“It’s that time of year!” she cries out to our laughter in the back.
Mace scowls. “You’re the only one I’d ever let change my music.”
“You weren’t complaining about Christmas last night when I wore that little Mrs. Claus nightie?—”
“ Ahem ,” Mace coughs. “Company in the back.”
“Don’t mind us,” Korine says. “Tell me more about this nightie, Sydney. It sounds cute.”
I’m laughing along ’til Korine’s comment. Then my imagination’s running wild with vivid images of her in a Mrs. Claus nightie. Complete with sheer lace that shows off every detail of her beautiful body and a matching fucking panty and Santa hat.
If she had any idea, she’d either laugh even harder, or swat me on the arm in horror.
I grin to myself, imagining pinning her down, trapping her underneath me, and sealing her lips with mine.
Fuck… it’s been too long since I’ve had a woman…
The problem being, the only one I want is Korine.
As though she’s read my mind, she catches my eye. Instead of just a quirk of her lips, this time she smiles at me. A fucking gorgeous smile that makes my heart beat faster and has me feeling like I’m sixteen again, crushing hard on my girl best friend.
If she had any idea the kind of power she holds over me. Any idea of how much I’ve always wanted her.
It takes us about another hour to arrive at the Christmas tree lot. The selection’s decent for it being so close to Christmas. We separate into pairs, with Mace and Sydney going off in one direction and me and Korine leaving in another.
“Pick out your favorite,” I tell Korine. She glances over in a silent ask if I’m serious. I jut my chin at the trees surrounding us. “Go ahead. Choose which one you think you and Sunny would want to decorate.”
“You are…” Korine releases a gentle sigh that’s soothing on sound alone.
I could listen to the sound when trying to fall asleep. It’s that relaxing.
“I’m what? Say it.”
A shyness develops about her. She brushes a few strands of her bangs away, then averts her gaze as she circles a few of the trees. “You’re so different, Blake. You’ve got no idea what a mind fuck it is.”
“From him?”
She nods. “He picked our tree every year. Mama and I got no say. We didn’t get a say in anything. Not even the decorations.”
Makes it that much sweeter that I beat his ass just hours ago.
“He couldn’t handle you,” I say, pocketing my hands in my jacket. “Only a weak man needs that much control over a woman. The only way he felt strong was to go on a power trip. It had nothing to do with you, Kori. It was everything about him being a pathetic piece of shit. Just like Bill.”
“Even you saying that…” she sighs softly again. “No wonder all the women in town throw their panties at you.”
I grin at her. “Haven’t noticed. There’s only one woman who I’d like to throw hers at me.”
“You are so…” she repeats, trailing off. She shakes her head and laughs instead of finishing her thought.
The small flirtatious moment hangs in the air between us.
Korine merely smiles, again with a shyness about her, and I stand back, letting her wander around the selection of trees.
I’m patient, aware that her walls are coming down piece by piece. She might bite away her little bashful smiles right now, but I can tell what she’s got on her mind—Korine wants me just as much as I want her.
It’s all about the right moment.
After we’ve picked out our trees, Mace and I load them up in his truck bed. We make a quick pitstop at the Sunny Side Up diner for lunch.
“This is where you used to work?” Korine asks.
Sydney nods and smiles, leading the charge inside. “I have very fond, very greasy memories of this place.”
The Sunny Side Up’s the usual roadside diner, with its pleather-cushioned booths and glass pie displays. The tile’s checkered, and the air smells of all kinds of fried foods.
Sydney walks right up to an older man that’s behind the counter in the middle of a conversation with a weeping woman in what’s known as church dress.
“Freddie,” she says. “Ms. Baxter. Long time no see!”
Sydney seems to notice the woman’s tears a couple seconds later than I have. The man looks torn between being happy to see Sydney and comforting the woman named Ms. Baxter.
“Sydney, thought you disappeared,” Freddie says. “One day you were my waitress, the next day you were thin air.”
“Sorry about that. After Pop’s passing…”
“No need to explain.”
She frowns, reaching over to place a hand on Ms. Baxter’s shoulder. “Everything okay, Ms. Baxter? Where’s Teysha?”
The woman erupts in a fresh, heartbroken wail and new stream of tears. She buries her face in the handkerchief she’s clutching.
Freddie shakes his head. “It’s a difficult time, Sydney. Teysha’s… missing.”
Sydney gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “Missing? You mean like…?”
“Taken,” Freddie says amid Ms. Baxter’s wails. “Right from the Sunny Side Up parking lot.”
The rest of us share glances.
Though we’ve got no idea who Teysha is, the news puts a damper on the rest of our lunch. Sydney takes the news hard. She spends most of the time up at the front engaging with Freddie and Ms. Baxter.
By the time we’re walking out toward the truck, she’s clutching missing person flyers she promises she’ll hang up everywhere in Pulsboro. Korine offers to help her.
I put my arm around her in the backseat of Mace’s truck in hopes I’m providing comfort. She mutters thank you and leans into me.
“For being there,” she whispers. Her fingers intertwine with mine in my lap and she snuggles closer.
We stay like this the rest of the ride home. Everybody in the truck’s in silent reflection. Mace peers ahead with his eyes on the road. Sydney clutches her flyers, and Korine seems to be thinking about how much my support means to her.
I’m thinking about all the things I’ve done to protect Korine—and all the things I’m willing to do should Stricklin ever come for her again.