2. Towles
2
Towles
T ragedy changes a man. It turns a good guy into a man on a mission for revenge and destruction. That’s who I became in an instant. It took one phone call, and I was no longer Ethan “Brainiac” Towles. I’d simply become Towles.
Beast and Diesel followed a few steps behind, bodyguards to protect me from me and what they figured I was about to do. We filled the hospital lobby with what locals called biker filth. They could say what they wanted as long as we couldn’t hear it when said. Don’t get me wrong. I respected the people of Pine Bluff. They were good people for the most part. However, respect is only given when it is earned.
I stopped at the small crowd of police officers talking about last night’s sports events instead of finding a killer. They thought it more important to protect the hospital from the bikers they knew were coming. Six police officers were no match for even two Brothers of Chaos, much less three. They turned and saw us; fear filled their eyes—respect earned by our presence .
“Ethan,” Sheriff Manning’s voice cut through the tension-laden lobby. The male doctors and male nurses scattered. The female doctors and female nurses stood their ground, watching. It was no secret in the biker world that most women, especially those bored with home life and men who didn’t know how to treat them right, wanted to ride more than on the back of our Harleys. Hell, many of them had said as much to us personally. We saw the stares in parking lots. On the road. At schools, when we dropped off or picked up our kids.
Manning had assumed the sheriff role a week ago, stepping into the shoes of our murdered sheriff. His words, a mix of promises and uncertainties, didn’t impress. He had spoken with Beast this morning, promising to work alongside the Brothers. But could we trust him? None of us thought so. Like respect, trust could only be earned, not freely given.
“You’ve got about one hour to bring in the motherfuckers who did this before I tear this town a new asshole. That’s not a threat, Manning.” The sheriff’s shoulders slumped like a child who had his candy taken away. He knew it wasn’t a threat. He also knew he didn’t have the manpower to stop me.
Manning cleared his throat, and the phlegm from smoking gurgled up. They called us filth? I didn’t touch the fucking things, preferring the smell of leather to the nastiness of cigarettes.
“We’ve taken footage from a local ATM.” He glanced at his deputies. It shows two men on Harleys stopping next to your parents’ car.” He shook his head, stalling. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Beast stepped forward and stood between us, understanding Manning’s neck was next.
“Who were the bikers?” Beast had Diesel move behind me. “Towles. I need you to back down. We need to find out which club did this. ”
“They were wearing cuts,” Manning said. His continued stalling was wearing thin on my patience. Diesel put both hands on my shoulders. Shit was about to get real, and everyone in the lobby prepared. I didn’t care where my actions landed me. The female doctors and nurses moved down the hall. The Deputies flanked Manning’s side. Manning nodded at me. “I’ll take him in, Beast. And fucking keep him.”
“Towles.” Beast’s voice again. “Fucking come on, Manning.”
“The bikers belong to the Street Punishers MC. They just recently came to town. The main chapter is out in Cali.”
Life moved in slow motion—those left in the lobby scattered but not nearly quickly enough. I didn’t care. When a club had to take care of business, collateral damage occurred.
I grabbed the closest chair and tossed it across the information desk, shattering a screen on the wall. The damn thing flickered, and smoke billowed from the back side.
Diesel and Beast tried their best to contain the oncoming catastrophe, but Manning’s deputies hit them from behind while I tore up the lobby. They came at me next, but I was on the wings of rage, and a bad landing was inevitable.
I tossed a deputy through the front windows and sent another into a row of chairs in a waiting area. Manning barked orders to the three deputies entering the lobby from outside. Moments later, everything went black.
“Wake the fuck up, Towles.” The phlegm-filled voice cleared, and I opened my eyes, rubbing the two-inch lump on the back of my head. One of those assholes was going to pay.
“What the fuck is going on?” Handcuffs secured one of my hands to a hospital bed. Zip ties secured both feet. An IV dripped into a line and disappeared at the end of a needle in my hand. A cute nurse, her outfit tight, nipples pointed, watched from the far corner of the room. She smiled, and I smiled back.
“It’s a sedative, asshole,” Manning said. I jerked on the handcuff, and Manning jumped back. “Can we give him more?”
The doctor at the end of the bed shook his head. He was a little man with wire-rimmed glasses and a mousy face that said, “I’m a doctor.” He swallowed hard, scared to fucking death. “We’ve already given him enough for five people. Any more, and it’ll kill him.”
“Do it,” Manning said. “I need to take his big ass down to the morgue so he can ID his parents.” He raised an eyebrow at the doctor. “You want him tearing up the rest of the hospital?”
The doctor called in another nurse, a hot body with a thick ass and big tits. She smiled with full, youthful lips. I noticed a skull tattoo on her hip when her shirt rose as she checked the IV. She’d been on the back of a Harley before. She winked and pretended to inject more sedatives into the line while Manning and the doctor spoke to each other. She “accidentally” rubbed her left ass cheek against my hand as she left the bedside. Bikers had no problem getting pussy. Keeping it was another story.
I’d fucked a nurse or two in the few short years I’d been in Pine Bluff and with the MC. I even fell in love with one. Long work hours and her demanding parents quickly ended that feeling. Her bedside manner had been exemplary.
The second nurse winked before closing the door. I was sorry to see her go.
“Where’s Diesel and Beast?” I prayed they were cuffed in the next room. That wasn’t the case.
“Already pissing in a jail cell. All because you couldn’t keep your shit together. The hospital is still trying to decide whether they’ll press charges.” Manning opened the door, and four deputies came in. After last year’s fundraiser, where the MC raised nearly a hundred grand for the hospital, I doubted I’d have any charges. “This is a peace offering, Towles. I will take you downstairs, let you see your parents, and then let you leave. I’ll release Beast and Diesel this evening.”
“That’s very kind of you, Manning, considering your ass should be out there trying to find out who killed them.” I held up a hand. “Fine.”
One of the deputies removed the zip ties. The man didn’t want to remove the cuff.
“You’re safe,” I said. “If I wanted you hurt, I would’ve done it earlier. Trust me.”
“Uncuff him,” Manning said. Manning stayed beside the bed because moving away showed weakness. Being new and all, he needed to work on respect from his deputies.
The deputy, a scrawny recruit, stepped forward. I recognized him. He was twenty-one, with two kids and a wife who worked at the biker bar on the town’s edge.
“It’s okay, Barney. I won’t hurt you,” I told the deputy and winked. He didn’t get the Barney joke.
The deputy licked his dry lips and ran his fingers through his hair. He nodded at Manning.
“Quit being a pussy,” Manning said. He grabbed his own set of keys and released the cuffs. “Towles, I will shoot you if you fuck this up, and I won’t allow the hospital to save your ass.” He reached into his breast pocket and handed over a business card. “April Summers.”
“You’re sending me to a shrink? Fuck that.” I tossed the card on the hospital bed, and Manning retrieved it. He stuck the card in my vest pocket. “I like you, Towles. Unlike those other assholes, I think you can be rehabbed. You came from a good family with an education and can do something with it. Why’d you come out here and fuck it all up? ”
“I don’t need your fucking compliments or fatherly advice, Manning.” I considered punching Barney. “Put me in a cell with Beast and Diesel.”
“I’m not going to do that, Towles. Because that’s what you want to happen.” Manning nodded at the door. “Summers works part-time. She specializes in anger management.” He opened the door, and we stepped into the hallway. “Your first appointment is tomorrow at two. If you don’t show up, I’ll charge you with so many things that you’ll need a team of lawyers to set you free. I don’t care if the hospital doesn’t want to press charges.”
“There’s not a fucking thing wrong with me,” I said. It wasn’t true. I had shit that couldn’t be fixed. I didn’t give a damn who Manning sent me to.
Manning pointed down the hall. “Take the elevator to the basement. The morgue is down the hall on the right. I need verification, Towles. Don’t tear anything up.” He grabbed my arm. “I am sorry about your parents. I’ll do everything I can to bring in the two assholes who did it.”
“I suggest you find them before I do, Manning.”
The deputies passed by, looking relieved. Manning stood there as if waiting for a thank-you. None came. I walked away toward the elevator with the intent of killing every member of the club involved in my parents' death. It’s what we did, how we rectified fucked up situations.
I’d seen dead people plenty of times. The body count due to my actions was four or five, though I never killed a man without a reason. Seeing my dead parents was going to be a different story. Mom reassured me long ago that her love would guide me long after she left this place. She was still by my side, even if I couldn’t see her. Dad hated the club life. He expected his Stanford-educated son to sit in an office in Manhattan, New York, excelling in a white-collar job. Fuck, I didn’t want that kind of life. I was raised to work in an office but was born to be free.
I stepped onto the elevator, and a young nurse joined me. I noticed her looking at the ink on my arm. “It’s Celtic,” I said. “Means strength.”
The nurse turned away and raised her shirt. A skull and two old-style pistols took up space on her lower back.
“Got it on a trip to Sturgis last year.” She smiled and hit the elevator stop button. She lowered her scrubs, and just above her panty-covered pussy, she pointed at the two snakes. “Rally in Galveston two years ago.”
“Impressive ink.” I'd be a rich man if I had a dollar for every time a woman bragged about her ink. She kept her pants down, waiting to see what I would do. “You somebody’s old lady?”
“Not anymore. He told me it was the job or him. I have a kid to raise.”
“Not a fair choice,” I said. “He fucked up.”
“Hitting me didn’t help matters.” She pulled up her scrubs to hide the ink but couldn’t hide the hurt in her eyes.
“It’s fucked up how many men find the right woman and then don’t know how to keep them.” I pushed the button, and the elevator descended. “You have a name, or do people just call you nurse?”
“Sarah with an h.”
“Well, Sarah, with an h, I’d really like to take this further, but I have dead parents to speak with.” The elevator door opened, and I left Sarah behind. She never got off. The door closed, and she was gone. Probably a good thing for her.
I found the morgue entrance and stopped. I had no idea how to proceed. They weren’t dead because of something they did. They were dead because of my association with a biker club. They’d been used to send a message. They were dead because of me. Because I never listened to Dad. It should have been me on the table, not them. The morgue wouldn’t be big enough for the carnage coming its way.
The door opened, and a man in a white coat walked out. He said nothing, though his scowl said a lot. A woman in a white coat sat at a desk across from the two covered bodies on tables in the middle of the room. The woman ate an apple. I did some fucked up things, but eating with two bodies only a few feet away? Fucked up. She looked up and froze.
“You’re safe,” I said. “Sheriff Manning asked that I come down and ID my parents?”
Her eyes narrowed as if a question hung on the tip of her tongue. She tossed the apple in the trash and crossed the room. “Ethan Towles? You’re the guy who tore up the lobby.”
I ignored the lobby comment. “Towles.” I walked between the two tables. “Dr. Hurley,” I said, reading the embroidery on her coat.
Hurley nodded. “I have pictures of both your parents when they were brought in. There’s no need to pull back the sheets.”
I pulled back both sheets. I’ve never had a situation freeze me in place. My feet and knees were cinder blocks. Hurley said something. Something profound. I stared at the bullet hole in Mom’s head. It matched the bullet hole in Dad’s head. Motherfuckers would all die. None would make it to the morgue. The river was more likely.
“Do you have other family, Towles?” Hurley moved around the tables. “I can call them if you like.”
“No. I’m good. I can take care of everything.” I moved the sheets back over Mom’s and Dad’s heads. I laid a hand on each, wishing it was a dream. “They were shot point-blank. It was an execution.” I looked to Hurley for confirmation .
“Yes.” Hurley put her hand on mine, and I knocked it away. She let out a yipe and stepped back. I reached forward, but she backed away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“We’ll keep the bodies here while you make arrangements. Barn’s Funeral Home does a fine job.” She stepped out of my way. Any other time, I’d find a tall redhead with perfectly shaded green eyes beautiful. But standing there, next to my parents, I decided society was ugly. You better fuck the world before it fucks you because it keeps no prisoners. No way. Life doesn’t have time for detainees. It wants to bend you over and spread your ass cheeks, fucking you with a baseball bat.
“I can get someone,” Hurley said. “We have a Pastor in the chapel.”
I left the morgue and stopped at the elevator, head spinning, anger rising. Maybe the nurse with the skull tramp stamp would be on the elevator. I needed to either fuck a woman or kill a man. Both, if possible.
The doors opened, and the tramp stamp nurse smiled. “I never got off,” she said. I was going to change that.
“You held the fucking elevator down here?” I chuckled and stepped on. Dr. Redhead watched us as the door closed. “Well, Sarah, with an h.” I stopped the elevator and backed her into the corner.
“I know what you like.”
“That right?”
Sarah dropped her scrubs and faced the corner like a girl in trouble. She lowered her thong, ass plump and delicious. She had a series of freckles on her left ass cheek that looked like the big dipper. It made me chuckle before I rammed my dick into her pussy.
“Is that what we like?” I asked.
Sarah let her hair down from the bun atop her head, and I grabbed two handfuls, pulling back hard each time I surged forward. I dropped a hand to her ass and smacked .
“Fuck, yeah!” Sarah pushed back against me. I smack her other ass cheek, and she screamed. “Hell, yeah!”
For the next few minutes, with my dead parents not far away, I fucked Sarah around the small elevator, her hands grasping at the rail.
“Juicy little piece,” I said as she creamed my dick.
“Fuck it, cowboy,” she said, and I stopped.
“Cowboy? What the fuck? Do I look like a fucking cowboy?” I pulled out earlier than I’d planned and stepped away, my wet cock dripping pussy juice.
“Why’d you stop? Put it back in!” She looked genuinely shocked.
“I’m not a fucking cowboy, Sarah, with an h.” I started to zip, but she knocked my hands away.
“Well, you don’t talk like a filthy biker,” she got on her knees and began licking her juice from my cock.
“I talk like a cowboy?” It was getting fucking worse. I’d graduated from Stanford, not the University of Arkansas.
“Just let me finish, please.” She slurped and sucked for the next five minutes, my hand on the back of her head helping out. I gave her what she wanted, and she took four long swallows.
I hit the button again, and the elevator began. I still needed to kill a man.
“Shit,” Sarah yelled. She wiped come from her chin and stood. “Couldn’t you give me a minute?” She tugged on her scrubs, and the door opened.
“Towles,” Sheriff Manning said. He looked from me to Sarah. “Someone reported screams.”
“My parents were executed, Manning.” I let Sarah off the elevator and then stepped forward. “You and your men should be out finding the assholes who killed them, not standing around here, waiting for me to fuck up. ”
Manning shook his head. “The investigation is still ongoing.”
I walked away.
“Towles,” Manning called. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I flipped the middle finger and left the hospital. Watcher and Big Kentucky waited by my bike. I looked to the left, where I’d seen a woman watching me earlier. She was gone.
“You whole?” Watcher asked. “Someone came out saying a woman was screaming in the elevator.”
“Fucking horn-dog,” Big Kentucky said. “Look at the wet spot on his crotch. Clean that shit up.”
“You see them?” Watcher climbed on his bike. Every member of the club was different, but Watcher was the most fucked up of the brotherhood. If I wanted to go and get revenge, I could count on him leading the way. Big Kentucky always wanted to do things by the book.
“Both shot in the head.” I straddled the bike and waited. “I need something right now.”
Watcher walked away and made a call.
“We need to get Beast and Diesel out of jail,” Big Kentucky said. “Don’t do what you’re thinking of doing.”
“You would.”
“You’re right, and in those shoes, I’d expect one of you to stop me.” Big Kentucky climbed on his bike. “Fuck, Towles, you’re a good kid. Why fuck it all up doing shit like this?”
I chuckled. “The same reason everyone else does it. We don’t want to be part of society’s puppet show. We want to do things our way, not be part of the status quo.”
“There are two Street Punishers at the bar on Maxwell.” Watcher glanced at Big Kentucky. “It’s on the way to the county jail.”
Big Kentucky shook his head. “We get Beast and Diesel first.”
“Fuck, Kentucky. It’s on the way. ”
“Supposed to be a vote.” Big Kentucky started his bike and rolled to the exit.
“Your call,” Watcher said to me.
“We’ll stop if the bikes are there.” I rolled behind Kentucky, and we left the hospital parking lot under Manning’s watchful eyes. Sarah, with an h, stood on the sidewalk. She smiled, but I never saw her again.
Big Kentucky stayed ahead, not paying attention to Watcher and me lagging. As we came upon Hogzz, the biker bar the Street Punishers frequented, we stopped and let Big Kentucky keep going.
“Too many,” Watcher said. “The owner said there were only two.”
“They’ve got the whole fucking club here.” I pulled to the curb and climbed off the bike.
“What the fuck are you doing, Towles?” Watcher jumped off his bike and grabbed my arm. Big Kentucky rolled up, pissed off.
“We ain’t doing this, boys. Get back on your bikes.” Kentucky waited impatiently.
The front entrance opened, and several Punishers exited. Drunk and slurring, the first two fell down the steps. I started forward, and Big Kentucky had his big hand around my arm before I could take three steps.
“You being dead won’t help your parents, Towles. Save this shit for later.” Kentucky pulled me back.
“What the fuck?” The sober of the three Punishers started toward us.
I made it like I was getting on my bike and then turned, hitting the Punisher square in the nose. It took me a moment to realize the loud crunch was his nose and not my hand. The motherfucker dropped at my feet and started spazzing.
The other two Punishers got to their feet, sized me up, and decided it wasn’t a good day to die. They headed back inside for help .
“Get on your fucking bike, Towles,” Kentucky said.
I didn’t want to. I wanted to either kill every fucker in the bar or join my parents. I turned to Kentucky and Watcher. They’d go to war with me if it came to that, but it wasn’t fair to them. I climbed on the damned bike, and we left for the jail.