Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
RATTLER
“Here.”
I swing around fast seeing Pippa approaching, her hand held behind her back.
Maybe if I had been at full fighting strength, or at least not struggling to balance on two legs which threatened to buckle at any moment, I’d have been quicker to stop her.
But she’d snaked her free hand around my head, forcing my face down into what she was holding in her other hand.
Staggering back, I roar, “What the fuck?” Pulling the offending objects away from my stinging eyes, blinking through the tears blinding me, I realise, mainly by touch and smell, that I’m now holding a handful of raw onion rings.
“What the actual fuck?” I repeat, then swing my hands in the direction where I think she’s standing, but obviously with her super-fast reactions, she’s already far out of reach.
“Bro,” comes Saint’s voice. “You need to go get that shit wiped off.”
“Your woman fuckin’ blinded me.” I shrug off his arm, not wanting his help, but that only puts me off balance.
“I got you,” says Short. And once more the big man’s taking my weight.
I let him lead me away from the scene of my torture.
Once in the bathroom, he runs a basin of water, and stands close as I frantically splash it on my face.
The stinging starts to dissipate, and at last I can see enough to open my eyes.
The lids are swollen, and the whole area’s red.
My nose is running. Reaching for some toilet paper, I blow it.
Still the tears come.
Before Ames — no, I’ve got to remember her new name — before Jayne I was a complete asshole, but since I’ve found her I’d thought I’d gone someway to redeem myself, but does this suggest I haven’t been as successful as I thought?
And why attack me, today of all days, when I need to be on top of my game?
I whine, “Why the hell did Pippa do this to me?”
Through the slits of my swollen eyes, I see Short hold up his hands. “Truth, Bro?” Of course, I nod. “Because none of the rest us had the fuckin’ balls.” He winces as he sees me dabbing at the tears still flooding my face.
“Does he need these?”
“Get fuckin’ lost, Saint.” He’s the last person I want to see — not that I can see much at all right now. But I don’t want him near me, or not until he can control his woman. And what the fuck did Short mean? No one else had the balls to disable me?
“Thanks, VP,” Short is far more polite than me. “Here you go,” he pushes a box into my hands. Glancing down, I see it’s full of man-sized tissues.
Taking out a couple, I blot my eyes, blow my nose, yet again, then throw the now disintegrating paper away. Saint, I notice, is still in the bathroom.
I growl a warning, “I’m going to fuckin’ gut your woman.”
I can see well enough to see his eyes darken. His words surprise me. “I reckon when you get your head on straight, you’ll be wanting to thank her.”
My eyes widen as far as I can make them. “What the fuck you talking about?”
He shrugs. “Volkov is on his way to the compound.”
“Fuckin’ know that.” Volkov has apparently made up his differences with the Pakhan, and is on his way to claim Ames. It’s why she isn’t here. She’s gone to Trixie’s while we have a discussion with him. Lancelot is with them.
“So, we thought you should be prepared to greet him as the grieving widower. And what better way to persuade him than to show you’re completely grief-stricken?”
“By blinding me?” I ask incredulously.
“Look in the mirror.”
I turn and regard my reflection. Then complain, “I thought I was a tough biker, not a damn pussy.”
“Pussy is more convincing right now,” Saint states, then his eyes crease. “And I’m not touching the first part of that statement.” The bastard even indicates my wobbling legs. Then, he offers his arm to me. “Let’s get you out of here, and set up in prime position.”
I suppose I have to acknowledge my appearance will make the part I’m supposed to play more convincing, though I’m sure rubbing my own eyes would have reddened them. Now I’m clinging onto that box of tissues as if they’re a fuckin’ lifeline.
Saint manoeuvres me into the clubroom, and I’m sat on a chair, my brothers around me. Someone places a glass of whisky in my hand, I drink it greedily, then hold it out to be refilled. I’m obliged immediately.
It’s then Bullseye’s phone rings. He answers then fills us in. “Dee says they’re approaching. You ready, Rat?”
I again clear my nose noisily, dab at the tears which are at least slowing, though my eyes must be glistening. “I’m ready, Prez.”
The front door opens. “Prez,” Dum’s voice sounds hesitant. “Mr. Volkov is here to see you.” He then steps aside and lets the Russian enter. Only it’s not just him. He’s got half a dozen heavily armed boyeviks with him. Within seconds weapons are in the hands of the brothers surrounding me.
“No need for that,” Volkov speaks, his voice heavily accented. “If we wanted you dead, you would not have seen us coming.”
I take a moment to study the man who now doesn’t resemble the handsome image in the pictures I’d seen.
But then, two blackened eyes, an obviously broken and hastily set nose, and his arm in a sling would have detracted from anyone’s appearance.
The Pakhan had obviously doled out some punishment, though I’d have preferred a more final solution myself.
Prez speaks coolly. “We agreed to this meeting. If your soldiers will leave their weapons on the table,” he indicates the one closest to our visitors, “then we, too, will put our weapons away. Nothing today will be resolved with violence.”
Volkov makes some kind of signal, and his men obey. Behind me, I can hear the sound of guns being holstered. Then there’s silence.
The Russian is the first to break. “Let us keep this simple. I want Amethyst Stone.”
“Why the fuck would you want a dead body?” Prez responds, his brow rising.
His eyes widen. “She is dead? I do not believe you.”
“You don’t believe she’s dead?” I cry out, as I get to my feet, or, at least I try to. I make it halfway out of the chair before the nearest brother, Paint, I notice, comes forward to steady me. “She was my fuckin’ wife. I saw her body with my own eyes. You bastards took her from me.”
Volkov sneers. “You expect me to believe that a two bit stripper walked into this clubhouse and managed to shoot her? And what do you mean, wife? Malachi said that was fake, a ruse to try to fool him.”
“She was my wife. You can check. The marriage was real and you took her from me.” My hands fist as I get into my part. Paint is now holding me back as well as supporting me. “And the stripper you sent in killed her,” I correct him, “under your fuckin’ orders.”
Volkov opens his mouth to contradict me, but Prez gets in first. “Deny it all you want, we’ve got it on our security footage.
” He turns and waves Genie forward, who steps front and centre, setting up a laptop so Volkov can see it.
Immediately a video starts playing. It’s a view from the camera that’s now been placed over the bar, and shows Ames, sitting opposite Satin.
“You’re married? Who the fuck too?” Satin snarls at her friend.
“Satin?” Ames looks startled, and worried.
Satin makes a dismissive gesture. “No matter. Just come outside with me now.”
Ames half stands, her head looks around as if searching for help, but this time there’s no prospect standing behind the bar ready to assist. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Are you working with Volkov? My God, you are, aren’t you? How much is he paying you?”
“Don’t bother your silly little head about that. Just come with me, now, and no one’s going to get hurt.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re so stupid. All I need to do is scream, and the Kings will come running. Get out now while you can save yourself. And I advise you too get well away from Gravity. I trusted you, Satin. I can’t believe you betrayed me.”
“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the money! Trust? It goes both ways. And there are no fuckin’ Kings. They went on a run. I watched them leave.”
“The prospects are still here.” Ames opens her mouth as if to scream, but Satin fires the gun. Ames’s face disintegrates, and as if in slow motion, she folds and drops. Before her body hits the floor, Satin makes a run for it.
Dee and Dum appear, and race to Ames, then take out their weapons and race for the door.
I fall back into my chair, my face in my hands, and my shoulders heaving. Even if I know Ames is safe with Trixie, that video was far too close to what could have happened that day not to affect me. I don’t even think I needed the onion.
Prez steps forward and shuts the laptop. “You owe my brother recompense. You sent that woman here, she killed his wife.”
Volkov seems to have paled, the AI video Pippa had so carefully crafted seems to have swayed him. But then his face tightens. He takes a few steps forward, bringing him right in front of me.
“You,” he snaps. “You the supposed husband?”
“You want a copy of the marriage certificate?” Bullseye asks.
Ignoring Prez, he addresses me again. “You. Look at me.” I raise my head, using yet another of the tissues. “You got my money.”
“I don’t want the fuckin’ money. I want my wife,” I cry out.
“You can’t inherit if you’re dead.” Suddenly there’s a gun in his hand, and it’s pointed straight at me. “Stone gets it all if you are not breathing.”
Prez hurriedly steps in front of me. “Stone’s dead.
” He waits for the Russian’s reaction. Peering around Bullseye, I can tell Volkov doesn’t believe him.
“Genie?” he barks, and holds out his hand.
This time it’s a tablet that is placed in it by the tech expert.
He passes it to the Russian. “You can check it out for yourself. It’s genuine. ”
What he’s showing Volvok is a news article about how an entrepreneur from Phoenix managed to write both him and his car off in a nasty accident.
It describes the police report showing that Stone’s car had insufficient brake fluid, which caused him to fail to slow.
That there were other signs that he’d failed to maintain his care properly, such as low engine oil levels and tyres with less than the minimum amount of tread.
Though the mechanical failure was listed first, the local press couldn’t miss the chance to speculate whether out of towners had sufficient ability to drive safely on the mountain roads around Gravity.
I risk a glance at Freak, he’s hiding his face from me. Yeah, the enforcer had done good.
“Stone is dead?” Volkov barks something in Russian at one of his men.
We all tense, but the man simply gets out his phone, and obviously checks that the story is real. The boyevik taps and stares at down for a while, then passes it to Volvok. “It has been reported on many sites,” he confirms.
Volkov’s face has gone red, his cheeks sucked in, his body tense. I know now he’s as dangerous as a rabid dog.
Prez quickly moves to defuse the situation.
“Stone had a life insurance policy, his sister the beneficiary.” He’s caught Volkov’s interest. “And since he’s dead, her husband will have claim to the money.
As soon as the policy pays out, he,” he indicates me, “has magnanimously agreed to give you a portion of the money to go some way to clearing Stone’s debt. ”
“No money will bring my wife back,” I wail on cue.
“Husband will get inheritance.” Volkov’s eyes narrow. “Husband dies.” He takes a step to the side to get a clear line of sight.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A racking of several rifles accompanies Prez’s words.
Winchester, Piston and Paint stand from their hiding places, receiving a chin lift from Prez, who then continues, “Rattler’s death would solve nothing.
If he dies, the state gets everything, as he’s Amethyst’s only living relative.
You want that, Volkov? You let him live, you get at least some money, which should get you off the hook with the Pakhan. You kill him, you get nothing.”
“He killed my wife. You’re just letting him get away with it? And the money too?” I’d been told to make a token protest.
Prez steps back, puts his hand on my shoulder, and says gently, “Brother, I know you blame him, but it was Satin who killed her. What did he stand to gain from taking her out? It’s the woman who’s responsible, and we won’t rest until we find her.”
“I never told her to kill Amethyst. She was to bring her to me. I do not know why she did that.” Volkov looks genuinely bemused.
He shakes his head. I notice his eyes are on the brothers holding the rifles.
“No benefit if money ends up in the purse of the state of Arizona. Her husband can live. He will pay the full twenty thousand Stone owed.”
“Ten,” states Prez. “And that’s being generous.”
“He married woman who promised to me.”
“By Stone, and he wasn’t in a position to promise things he couldn’t deliver,” Prez points out. “Now he’s dead. You have no claim on Amethyst Stone’s, or sorry,” he casts a sympathetic look my way, “Ellington’s inheritance.”
Volkov’s face tightens. “You expect me to walk and accept he’s got money owed to me? You have declared war.”
“War?” Prez queries, his forehead furrows.
“What the fuck do you get from declaring war on the Kings? You fuck with one chapter, you fuck with us all. You’ll only be signing your own death warrant.
” He pauses and his tone goes icy. “You want war, you got it. But if that’s how you’re going to play it, we’ll rescind the offer to pay you anything at all. ”
He swears loudly in Russian, I take it it’s not complimentary.
“You expect me to accept ten thousand? That is half of what Stone owed.”
“Take it or leave it.” Prez shrugs. “Something or nothing.”
Volkov swings on his heel and starts pacing. Then suddenly he stops and turns back. “Eighteen,” he states. At least he’s come down from demanding everything.
“Twelve,” counters Prez.
“Fifteen,” Volkov snaps. “And I leave here and you’ll never hear from me again. Unless,” a crooked grin crosses his face, “you like gambling in my casino.”
Prez steps forward, his hand outstretched. “Fifteen,” he agrees.
“Pizdets,” he snarls. Then he accepts Prez’s handshake. “You give money as soon as possible, or I will come end you.”
Then, without saying anything more, he turns, waves at his men who collect their weapons while the Kings all have theirs trained on them.
When they’ve gone, I raise my head. “What did he call us?”
“Something insulting, I expect.”
“Nah,” says Genie, waving his phone. “As long as I translated it correctly, he called this a completely fucked-up situation.”
Saint barks a laugh. “It is, for him. For us? It’s a cool extra five thousand dollars home free.” We’d have settled on giving him the whole twenty if it had got him off our backs.
“And,” Prez gives an uncharacteristic grin at me. “You’ve got the girl. I’d call that a win.” He turns away from me. “VP? That video? Your woman’s a fuckin’ genius. Got to say I’m fuckin’ glad she’s on our side.”