35. Chapter 35
I’m conscious enough to know X is in trouble but the blow to my head when it cracked against the side window has numbed me. Inside, I’m shouting. You bastards, leave her the fuck alone! You hurt her and I’ll fucking cut off your balls and feed them to you.
I inch my fingers towards my gun, but my hand feels like it’s made of lead. I can barely move, let alone save X from being kidnapped.
X! I scream silently as her voice, shrieking up a blue streak, is suddenly cut off.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. I just found her. I can’t lose her.
Panic claws at me, blood thunders in my ears, my heart is beating too fast.
I see the truck that hit us resting in the ditch, the driver’s side open, the vehicle abandoned. I hear car doors slam, tires spinning on gravel.
I suck in a breath and will myself to calm down. I can’t help X if I don’t find that dark cold place inside me. I was frozen before her. A man still locked in a prison. She was thawing me, but right now, I have to tuck that part of me away. Right now, I have to be the cold-hearted bastard I used to be.
A bike roars up then Red’s at the window.
“What the fuck!” he shouts as he yanks at my door. It won’t budge at first, but Red is a powerhouse and it only takes another pull to get it open.
I’m still too numb to catch myself so I tumble out and hit the pavement hard. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, but the pain of the fall and the bracing air jars me out of my numbness.
“Where’s X!” Red says, his voice full of the same panic I’m feeling.
I roll onto my back and stare at the sky. The feeling in my body is coming back. “They took her,” I say in a strained voice. “Go after them.”
He shakes his head. “They’re gone. No way to follow them.” Then he’s gone too.
“Red!”
I need him back here. I need him to help me get on my feet. I need him to go after X. My head is spinning but I manage to get on my knees, using the truck door as a crutch.
“Need help, here,” I hear Red say. “Reaper’s down, X and the dog are gone.”
“Fucking dog,” I mumble. “Fucking useless.”
“Yeah. A good crack on the head. Probably gonna need stitching up. Lots of blood.”
“They don’t need my fucking medical history!”
Red moves further away, mumbling, but the blow to my head didn’t impair my hearing. He gives them our coordinates, then returns and grabs me under the arms, lifting me to my feet. “Can you stay upright?”
My legs say no but my head calls them a sonofabitch and I guess that’s enough to goad them into standing. “Yeah,” I mumble, leaning my ass against the truck seat.
“Fuckin’ good thing I circled back.”
I touch the side of my head and my fingers come back wet and bloody. “Yeah,” I say weakly. I don’t ask why he circled back. Don’t care. The lethargy is passing, the numbness turning into a throbbing headache. I need to get my shit together before the calvary arrives or they’ll sideline me.
The calvary turns out to be Hash by himself.
“What the fuck happened?” he says as he gets off his bike. “You look like a truck hit you.” That’s Hash for you. An asshole even in a time of crisis.
“X is gone,” I say. I hate the tone of my voice. It’s weak and almost pleading. Red hands me his bandana and I hold it to the cut as I will myself to straighten up. The bleeding’s stopped, the dizziness is passing.
Hash frowns as he looks down the street. “Someone take her?” Not long ago, his girl got attacked. She saved herself, but he’s living with the guilt of not being there to protect her.
I know what he’s feeling. “Yeah. Fucking T-boned the truck, then grabbed her.”
He stares at what’s left of the truck. “You’re lucky,” he mutters.
“Funny, I don’t feel lucky.”
Sirens blare in the distance. Someone’s called the fuckin’ cops. Of course they fucking have. “Jesus Christ!”
Eight roars up in his truck. It’s a beat-up old Dodge, which doesn’t make sense to anyone given he’s got enough money to buy a dozen new Rams straight off the assembly line. Right now though that truck is the holy grail.
He wraps his arms around my waist. “We’re goin’ now.” To Red and Hash, he says, “You mop up. No mention of X and the dog. We’ll handle that ourselves.”
As I limp away, I hear Hash say to Red, “Do we have ‘born yesterday’ tattooed on our foreheads?”
In the truck, I say, “We gotta find X.” My voice is still weak and the jarring of the truck as Eight pulls it onto the road almost makes me vomit.
Eight ignores me as he heads out of Reno towards Sagebrush.
“What the fuck are you doing?” My heart’s two-timing, my hands are sweating. I can’t breathe. I’m back in prison those first few weeks, trying to get my anxiety under control. Trying to keep it on the inside.
“Back to the clubhouse. Get our shit together.”
“Let me the fuck out! If you’re not gonna help, I’ll do it myself.”
He doesn’t pull over, doesn’t slow down. “What’re we gonna do? Drive around in circles looking for a neon flashing sign that says, X is stashed here?”
He’s right, but that doesn’t settle me down. “Fuck off!”
“X is either dead or she’s not. If she’s dead, it’s too late to help her. If she isn’t it’s because the fucks who took her want something.”
The idea of X being dead stuns me. “She’s not dead!”
“I don’t think so either. I’m thinking that whoever the coke belongs to is gonna use her as leverage. They left you alive for a reason. We got the coke. They know that. They want it back. They’ll bargain.”
That doesn’t reassure me. “I got a better idea. We find the motherfuckers, rip their balls off, get X and sell the coke to the cartel.”
Eight loses his patience. “That’s the plan, asshole. But you go in alone, guns blazing, neither you or X will make it out alive.” He accelerates as he hits the highway. “What we’re gonna do is go back to the clubhouse. We’re gonna talk to Hangman and Joker. My guess is, we’re gonna wait for the phone call from whoever took her and when we get it, we’re gonna make the exchange.”
“Fuck the exchange! I’ll fuckin’ kill them.”
“Yeah. That’ll happen but after we get your girl back. Once she’s safe, the Jury will have a long talk with them. They won’t come out the other side in one piece.”
He’s right. He’s fucking right about everything, but all I can think of is X out there alone and at the mercy of the bastards who took her. I clamp my mouth shut. Right now, for her sake, I gotta get my shit together.
Hangman’s waiting for us when we get to the clubhouse, pacing until he sees us, then glaring like we’re the ones who fucked up. Worse, Paulie’s standing next to him, his arms crossed, his expression stony.
Hangman starts to speak, but Paulie gets out in front of him. “What the hell happened, you sonofabitch! I entrust you with my little girl, and you let some animal take her.”
“Shut the fuck up, old man,” Hangman snarls to Paulie. “This is my fucking show.”
“Which you royally screwed up!” Paulie stabs his finger at me. “I shouldn’t have let her within a mile of you.”
“Jesus,” I say as I stumble over to a bar stool and sit down. The blood on my face is drying, but my head’s still pounding. “Could you fucking lower the volume.”
Hangman is not empathetic. “Dicer, get over here!” he shouts at our resident doctor.
I groan, not over my injuries, but because in the five years I’ve been a member of Hell’s Jury, I’ve managed to avoid the ministrations of the drunk.
True to word, he staggers over and plants his hands on my head, lookin’ in my eyes like he’s trying to hypnotize me.
“We have no time for this,” Paulie snarls.
Dicer starts to check my pupils by aiming two fingers at my pupils, but I shove him off me.
“Fuck off. I’ll survive.”
That’s enough for him. He fucks off.
“We’re gonna do this the Jury way,” Hangman says to Paulie. “Because that’s the best chance we have of gettin’ her back.”
“Then I’ll go find her myself,” Paulie snarls.
“Settle, Belmonte,” Joker commands. “We’re gonna get her back in one piece. It’s what we do.”
“Right,” Paulie says bitterly. “I forgot. You’re fucking thugs and criminals.”
Joker doesn’t deny the accusation. “Which is why your daughter is gonna come out the other side alive.”
Haley jumps up onto the top of the bar and gently moves my hair away from the cut. “You need stitches,” she says.
My hair will cover it,” I growl as I slap her hand away.
“Hey,” King snaps at me. “Watch yourself, asshole, or I’ll put another hole in your head.”
“Stop it, King. He’s worried about Mina.” Haley takes another look. “Yeah, your hair will cover it until you go bald.”
I give Haley a weak smile mostly to keep King from plowing me in the face. “I’ll risk it.”
“Get me some disinfectant,” she orders Dicer, who nods and stumbles from the room.
“I don’t need disinfectant,” I growl.
“Quick your fuckin’ whining,” Hangman snaps at me. “And get your ass to church.”
I stand, sway, then sit down quickly. “I’m coming.”
Suddenly, my head’s on fire as Haley dumps some disinfectant on the cut.
“Fuckin’ hell!” I yell as I jerk to my feet. The cool liquid is seeping down the side of my face and into my eyes.
“You too, Belmonte,” Hangman says as he points towards the boardroom. “We’re gonna work this out.”
“Sorry,” Haley says as she hands me a towel. “Wipe the blood off your face.”
“Christ,” I mutter as I take the towel and push past her. “I should’ve let Dicer fix me.”
“You’re welcome!” she shouts at my departing back.
The fucking sting from the disinfectant has jarred me out of any lethargy I had left and I’m steadier on my feet as I enter church with Eight keeping pace, to catch me if I fall over I guess.
Hangman and Paulie are sitting close to each other, talking low but urgently to each other. King and Jawbone are already there and Joker is right behind me. Joker looks at me and Eight. “Where’s Red and Hash?”
“Dealing with the cops,” Eight replies.
“You went to the fucker’s business,” Hangman says to me. “You find anything?”
I park my ass in a chair. “Looks like Miguel’s been stealing more than blow from his customers.” I reach inside the pocket of my cut, take out the black book and slide it across the table. “Any jobs under Melanie Richards. That’s him.”
Hangman’s rifling through it. “Who the fuck keeps paperwork of his crimes?”
“He’s not that smart,” Paulie says. As if to defend X, he looks at me. “It was a phase she was going through. Trying to get back to her Mexican roots.”
I rub my hand over the caked blood in my hair. “Yeah,” I say to my future father-in-law.
Only if X comes out of this alive.
Shut the fuck up, brain. There’s no other option.
King says, “Maybe the idiot’s memory is bad. Wants to keep a record so he knows who he should target again.”
Hangman closes his eyes and shakes his head. “He’s a fuckin’ loser.”
“A dead loser,” Joker says.
My heart picks up speed as I remember how Miguel died.
“We gotta find X fast.”
Hangman doesn’t reply. The man is frenetic. The only time he sits still is if he has his dick down one of the passarounds’ throats. But right now, he’s frozen, not paying attention any of us. His eyes are glued to an entry in the ledger.
We get quiet, waiting for him to tell us what he’s seeing. When he finally jars himself out of whatever trance he was in, he leaps to his feet and hurls the book at the wall. “That goddamn motherfucking cocksucking sonofabitch prick.” He slams his fist against the table then picks up his chair and hurls it over Paulie’s head towards the window.
We all duck as the glass shatters.
Joker shoots to his feet. When Hangman loses his shit, he gets out of control. Joker is the only who can subdue and bring him down.
“Shit,” Jawbone says. “Fender’s gonna be pissed.”
Hangman waves Joker off and turns to me. “You were fucking right about Moliter.”
“Who’s Moliter?” Paulie asks.
“A low-life soon-to-be-dead prick,” Hangman replies.
Joker picks up the logbook and pages through it. He groans. “Stupid fucking boyfriend.” He turns to Paulie. “Moliter’s no joke. The Jury does business with him from time-to-time.”
“What kind of business?” Paulie snarls with a tone that indicates he already knows.
“The kind we don’t talk about with outsiders,” Eight replies coldly.
Paulie jerks to his feet and paces up to Eight. Gets in his space. “You assholes are a piece of work.” His breathing’s hard, his face red.
Eight splays his hand against Paulie’s chest and gives him a brisk shove backwards. “You’re takin’ your shit out on the wrong assholes.”
I ask the question that’s been bothering me. “How do you know it’s Moliter?”
Hangman tugs at his braid. “We do business with him. We don’t use names, we use his company.”
Joker swats the book. “It’s right here. Abbott, Beckett Crombie.”
“I’m leaving,” Paulie growls as his eyes find mine. “I’ll find the bastard myself since you’re all sitting around with your thumbs up your asses.” His face has gone from red to purple, his forehead’s sweating.
“Paulie,” I say as I skirt the table and rush towards him. “You don’t look so good. Sit down. We’re gonna get X back.”
He squeezes his left arm. “Goddamn bastards,” he says as he staggers.
I reach him just in time to catch him as he collapses.
“Shit!” he says weakly.
“He’s having a heart attack,” I say as I help him to the floor. “We need an ambulance.” I think of X, of her devastation if she loses her dad. Paulie can’t fuckin’ die.
Joker’s already on the phone, talking to someone, his voice low, but urgent.
“Paulie,” I say as I hold his shoulders in my lap. “Don’t you fuckin’ die. X needs you more than ever.”
He’s clutching at his chest, his face sheet white, but his eyes, as he opens them, are full of determination. “You find my girl, Reaper. Find her and kill the bastards who took her.”
Finally, he and I are on the same page.