Chapter 21
“Getting a late start today,” Amber commented when Lola jogged down the staircase, following her through the front door.
“Busy night,” he told her.
“I don’t want to know what that means,” she said, walking to her car.
“Smart decision,” he replied. “I’ve gotta go get my bike.”
“Need a ride?” Amber stopped walking, turning toward him.
He glanced toward the car sitting behind Amber’s. “No, thanks. I think I have a ride.” He closed her door as she settled in the car and buckled. Lifting a hand, he jogged back inside. He stood near the door and listened for Mia and Heather to pass through the grand room after finishing therapy. Heather’s voice. Perfect timing. He instantly dumped the coffee into the sink and stepped into the doorway.
“Good morning, ladies. Aren’t you two a sight to wake up to.”
Mia’s hand went to work, and Heather laughed.
“Are you scolding me?” he asked with a grin. “Or did you tell her how wonderful I make your mornings?”
Mia shook her head, twisting her lips as she looked toward her speech therapist.
“She said if you came home at a decent hour, you’d know morning was almost gone,” Heather translated.
“Awe, you missed me,” he teased Mia, bringing a look of irritation from her.
“I’ll leave you two alone to sort this out,” Heather said, reaching for the door.
“Can I bum a ride to the garage?” Lola asked.
“I’m heading back to my office, so I don’t see why not.”
“That’ll be great,” he told Heather. Moving behind Mia, his breath brushed her ear as he leaned close. “I missed you too.” And as quick as Mia turned toward him, he was out the door.
***
“Thanks for the ride,” Lola said as they pulled into the garage’s parking lot.
“My pleasure,” she told him. “It gave us a little extra time together.”
He grinned as he stood with his hand on the open car door leaning forward. “I’ll see you soon.” Then, he pushed the door closed and watched her drive away.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, he strolled toward the office door. The ‘closed’ sign flickered in the window. He glanced around the lot. Lorelei’s car was missing. Changing directions, he rounded the building, now heading for the large bay doors. Only one of them was open. He studied the unfamiliar car parked behind Mac’s truck as he strolled by.
He stepped inside and turned toward the break room to grab his bike key. He was scheduled to work the Landing today and had just enough time to speak to Mac and head out. Lifting the key from the hooks near the door, shouting brought Lola to a stop.
“Where is it?” the angry voice demanded.
Lola eased toward the dividing wall and peered around the corner. He only saw the man’s back. He leaned to his side. Mac was standing by the wash-up station with his hands by his head.
“You made me look a fool,” the man accused Mac. “Where’s the guns?”
“Snitches are fools, and the only gun in this place is in your hands,” Mac said. Lola knew Mac had spied him without adverting his focus from the threat.
Lola scanned the area nearby, choosing his weapon. He couldn’t take a chance to waste time going for one of the guns hidden in the bay. He must be quick with a reliable and precise aim.
“You should have laid low longer,” Mac commented, buying time.
“I’ve been watching. Your snooty secretary left, and that old coot of a mechanic hasn’t been here all day. You’re alone, and like you said, I have the gun.”
Lola kept a keen ear to the conversation as he searched the wall. Perfect. In three quick, long strides, Lola swung. The hammer slammed into the intruder’s skull with a force so strong, it cracked against the concrete floor upon impact. Sprawled on the floor before them, the body jerked only once before going limp, pools of blood and urine seeping into the cement.
Lola stared. His chest heavily rising and falling. Forcing his attention from the dark crimson growing around the mass of hair covering the bashed face, Lola jerked his head toward Mac.
“Fucker’s bleeding on my floor,” Mac complained as if this were a common occurrence. Stepping away, he rolled a cart out of the way and dragged a barrel toward the body. “Help me get him up.”
Lola tossed the hammer into the barrel, and with one on each side, they lifted the body, dropping the top half into the container and leaving the waist hanging over the side.
“Drop the doors,” Mac ordered.
Lola ran toward the pulley, rolling the doors to the floor, locking them. Turning back, he pushed out a breath and studied Mac, who appeared unfazed as he stood by the death barrel with his hands on his hips.
Moving back next to where Mac stood, Lola’s adrenaline began to fade into nausea.
“You can handle a hammer. Caught him right in the temple. He never saw it coming,” Mac praised.
“Dead?” Lola asked.
“Pretty sure,” Mac confirmed, glancing in the barrel. “If not, he will be.”
“Carpenter.” Lola’s voice was flat and low.
Mac cocked his head.
“I can handle a hammer. Was a carpenter for years back home.” He shook his head. “Before I moved here.”
“First one?” Mac asked.
First dead body? First kill? That would be a check to both. First also indicated more to come. Lola only nodded. Yes, this was his first.
Mac grinned. “You know you could have just let him shoot me. Then you’d had all this and never had to face me again.”
The humor in Mac’s voice flipped a switch in Lola. He searched the floor, spotting the dropped gun. “I could say he shot you and I retaliated out of grief,” he told Mac with a half-smile.
“Not too late,” Mac noted, leaning a hip against the sink and crossing his arms.
Lola studied Mac a moment, then jerked a shop towel from the nearby box. He turned and picked up the gun. Walking back toward Mac, he rolled it in the towel and placed it on the worktable next to him. “Recycle?”
Mac nodded, then said, “You have to make the call.”
“What call?”
“Your hands get dirty, you call King. Tell him you need a kickstand,” Mac explained.
Lola’s lips straightened into a thin line as he took another look at the limp body and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Lola, what’s up?” King answered immediately.
“I need a kickstand,” Lola told his president as he kept his eyes focused on his father, his club brother.
Silence filled the line for a long moment before King’s surprise was evident in his voice as he demanded, “Say again.”
“I need a kickstand,” Lola said, slower this time.
“Where are you?”
“Mac’s Garage.”
“Mac?” King wanted to know.
“He’s here,” Lola told him.
“Alright.” Lola could hear the relief in King’s voice as he assured him, “We’re on our way.”
Lola pushed the phone back into his pocket. “I need to clean up this mess.”
“You just did.”
“How’s that?”
“Cleanup crew is on the way. Something learned only after being patched.” Mac pulled a bucket holding chemicals and towels from under the sink. “Although we can clean the floor from staining any further. You’ll help Brick with the barrel.”
“Brothers don’t kill brothers,” Lola stated as they scrubbed the spot.
“Just us. I’m your father, and I’m not lost to the fact you hate it.”
Lola rocked back on his heels and focused on Mac. “I do hate the fact, but I recall wishing for a dad like you once. I think I just put all that hate to rest.”
Mac grinned and stood. He tossed the evidence in a plastic bag and returned the bucket to its place. “Thanks,” he told his son.
Lola only nodded.
Within minutes, Brick and King arrived, and as Mac had informed him, he received a full lesson on handling club wet work.