Chapter 15
SAVAGE
I don’t go back to the compound, but I do show up at a job.
I’ve stayed on the secure messaging app we use to plan our gigs, so I know where and when shit’s going down.
This is a deal that Shadow has been working on for a couple of months as part of the effort to get involved in more legit businesses.
Now that he’s got an old lady and Phantom has a whole load of kids to take care of, plus the one on the way, we’ve been trying to find sources of revenue that are lower-risk. Cash-heavy businesses where we can wash money we pick up from gambling or security gigs, shit like that.
Shadow met with a woman who owns a chain of nail salons—three in total across the area. She got herself deep into debt, and Shadow thought it’d be the perfect business to buy out—if the owner will agree to our terms.
We’re meeting the woman at a small diner far on the outskirts of town. Shadow’s gonna present the offer while Phantom and I hover in the background, making sure nothing goes wrong.
This lady owes money to some shady people, so getting involved means we’d tangle with yet another enemy. If we’re gonna take on the risk, we need everything to go according to plan.
I roll up to the meeting where Shadow is dressed like he’s going to court. I look him up and down, from his weird boat shoes to his khaki pants and pink golf shirt.
“I know your woman didn’t buy you those clothes because Violet’s got better taste than that.” I eyeball his entire getup. “But whose grandpa did you knock over to get those shoes?”
I clap him hard on the back in greeting, and he curses me out in my ear. “Asshole. Good to see you.”
I’m dressed in a forgettable outfit, but nothing that screams I borrowed clothes from the airport lost and found like Shadow. Phantom rolls up a few minutes later like me. Plain, solid-color T-shirt, no logos, long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned over it to hide our tatts, and dark jeans.
He gives me a look when he sees me, then a curt nod. “Savage,” he says. And that’s it. No lecture, no catch-up. He said not to come back until my head was right, and I think, I hope, that I’m there.
Phantom and I stake the place out, our trucks strategically positioned in the lot while Shadow, who is calling himself Jim for this meeting, and the owner of the string of nail places, Marybeth, sit in a booth right by a massive glass window.
The plan is to make sure she wasn’t followed and that she’s not part of any kind of a scam herself.
We’re supposed to deliver her a ten-grand advance in cash tonight, and in exchange, she’ll sign an amendment to the corporate documents that she filed with the state of Florida to add a trust our club attorney set up as the majority owner of the salons.
That signature won’t mean shit unless it’s done in front of a notary, so she’s agreed to hire one to meet Jim at the diner to do the deal.
This could be a much easier deal, but Marybeth is a cool six figures in debt to her loan shark and is already three days late on the last extension they gave her to make a payment of at least twenty-five grand.
From what she told us, she’s afraid she’s being tailed, and all she wants is to get out from under her debt and get out of the state with her face intact.
Meeting us in a public place means, if she’s being tailed, we’ll get eyes on the asshole she owes the money to while making sure nothing too dangerous goes down.
Loan sharks are lazy and their collection agents might be willing to get their hands dirty, but they sure as fuck don’t like public messes.
We could have paid her guys outright, just given her the money to clear the debt and then bought out the salons, but we didn’t trust her to just pay off the assholes if we gave her the money.
Marybeth’s afraid for her life and basically agreed to everything except telling us who she owed money to unless we gave her a seed fund to abandon the salons and get the hell out of town.
She said once she no longer legally owned the businesses and could get far away, we could step in and pay off her debt using her salon manager as a front woman and then take over ownership of all three locations.
It should have been an easy transaction. But as soon as Shadow goes into the diner and sits, my Spidey senses start tingling. I text Phantom on our secure app.
Me: I don’t care how well Shadow vetted this. Something seems off.
I only have to wait a couple seconds before he replies.
Phantom: I know. You packin’?
I’m not. All my guns are at the compound, safely far away from Aurora and my recent outburst of rage.
Me: No.
I’m trying to figure out why I feel like shit. Why none of this is sitting right. I keep an eye on Shadow, and sure enough, he’s talking like a time-share salesman to Marybeth. She keeps looking toward the diner door, no doubt waiting for her notary to come through.
I look away from the windows and scan the parking lot when a faded orange, rusted, shitstain of a pickup truck catches my eye. I process it in slow motion, realizing it looks familiar, and that’s when I feel a sick sensation climbing up my throat.
Mad Dog.
That’s fucking Mad Dog’s truck. I scan the lot, my pulse ratcheting up in my chest. I don’t see any bikes or signs of trouble, but Shadow started talking with this lady just days or weeks after the deal went down with Mad Dog. It’s gotta be him, and he’s gotta be involved.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but there’s no way this is a coincidence. Something big is going down, and I sure as fuck don’t like surprises—especially these kinds of surprises.
I go into the group chat and text both Shadow and Phantom. Viper and Blade, our club treasurer, are in the chat too. Blade’s been on the money stuff every step of the way, and Viper’s prepared to show up if we need backup. We just might.
Me: Abort. Hellfires on site.
I notice Shadow’s shoulders pick up inside, and he raises a finger to Marybeth, while he excuses himself to check his phone.
I’ve got one leg out of the truck, my boot planted on the asphalt, when I’m kicked sideways in the left knee.
I curse to the holy heavens and drop to my side, rolling to absorb the shock of falling.
“Always trying to be the hero,” a familiar voice sneers.
I’m on my back, looking up into an already dark Florida sky and into the filthy cowboy hat of Mad Dog. “What the fuck do you want, shit-for-brains? You starting something you’re ready to finish here?”
Mad Dog laughs and flicks open a knife with a blade about five inches long. It’s a filthy weapon, rusty and dirt-marred on the handle, but I can tell the point is sharp enough to do real damage.
I know Shadow is someplace inside that diner, and Phantom should still be in his truck. For now, this is between Mad Dog and me. I decide to play up the injury to my knee, so I fake trying to struggle to get up and suck air.
“Goddamn,” I groan. I was never one for theater in school, but Mad Dog seems more intent on staring at Shadow than worrying about me.
I’m on the ground between my truck and another parked car.
Nobody inside that diner is going to see him if he decides to bend down and gut me like a fish or put a boot to my nuts.
My mind races, and I think long and hard about what he wants. “You in on this deal?” I ask him. “You the one who’s got a note on that debt?”
Mad Dog spits tobacco through his teeth, and it lands on the leg of my jeans. “Stupid little shit,” Mad Dog says. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
Thankfully, he is predictable as well as distracted, so when he rears back to plant one of those boots in my gut, I roll onto my side. He reacts fast, but I’m faster, and I kick out with my right foot, trip his ass to the ground, and make a play for his knife.
What happens next is a blur of cursing and fists. I’m hitting him, dodging blows, and trying to make sure the knife, which he took a punch to the belly in order to grab, doesn’t land in a place that’s gonna make me bleed.
I hear motion around us, and suddenly Phantom’s behind Mad Dog, his arms locking him tight in a choke hold. Phantom hisses in Mad Dog’s ear, “What the fuck is this? You trying to start a war, you worthless little prick?”
“The only worthless prick is this piece of shit. The one who thought he could buy my niece and my brother’s bitch.”
When he refers to Claire and Aurora, just the fact that he’s even thinking about them anymore, my sight goes red. I haul off and punch him in the gut so many times, he doubles over and spits a thick stream of bloody spittle onto the ground.
I grab the knife from his weak hand just as Shadow comes running up.
“Shit’s off,” he says, his voice low. “Deal’s not happening. That bitch played me.”
He registers slowly that Phantom’s holding Mad Dog and I’ve got the asshole’s knife in my hand.
“Savage,” Shadow says. “Think about what you’re doing.”
Shadow’s hands are in the air, and he’s giving me the “put it down” sign. My heart is pumping hard, adrenaline urging me to finish this fuck. Put this knife through Mad Dog’s heart and end whatever this is once and for all.
“We said,” I seethe, talking so close to this asshole’s face that I knock the cowboy hat off his head with mine, “that deal was over. Concluded, all in. No loose ends. You got seller’s regret, that’s your problem.”
I look around, curious why there are no other Hellfires here. “What’d you do?” I demand. “Think you were gonna shake us down for a couple of extra Gs?”
Just then, the diner doors open, and we hear the clack of heels clomping toward us.
Phantom makes the call. “No witnesses,” he says.
I open the back door of my truck, and Phantom shoves Mad Dog in.
Shadow gets in the other side, so both my brothers are flanking Mad Dog.
Then I get behind the wheel, and we take off.
I make sure I run that fucking skanky cowboy hat under my wheels as we leave.
“Where to?” I ask.