26. Mad Dog
MAD DOG
Forty-eight hours are up.
“Alright, smile for the camera!” Riptide drops Killjoy into a shitty metal folding chair, holding him in place while Rebel secures his wrists to the frame with handcuffs.
Rebel’s face twists in disgust. “Fuck, ever heard of a shower?”
The glare he gets in return makes me think there’s some fight left in him, but then he breaks eye contact right away, defeated. Pussy. We only roughed him up a little. We didn’t even make him sit in his shit clothes. He just didn’t get the princess treatment Melody did during her visit to the Pit.
Fuck, I still feel a little bad about us tossing her in there, but it was necessary at the time. By now she knows how dangerous having the wrong information can be for us. Hopefully we’re doing a good enough job making it up to her.
I grin to myself, probably looking a little more insane than usual. I don’t give a fuck. Anything that gets us closer to bringing this to a close is cool with me.
Eagle-eye steps into the Pit with a cup of coffee in one hand and his laptop in the other. King is on his heels. Just another boring conference call in the office. “Let’s get this party started, boys.”
We set up the laptop so there’ll be a clear view of Killjoy and his situation. Eagle-eye fiddles with the settings to make sure everyone’s in place, then taps a key to connect.
Rebel kneels next to our unfortunate visitor, pulls out his piece, and points it right at the fucker’s head.
Even through his gag, a muffled whimper escapes.
Rocco doesn’t seem like a subtle hints sort of guy, so it’s time to make it painfully obvious what the fucking stakes are.
The laptop plays a little melody while it waits for someone to pick up on the other end.
“Maybe he doesn’t wanna talk?” King shrugs.
Riptide shrugs. “We can always just drop this guy off at the gate like we did the other one. Has anyone hosed down the van yet? It was pretty ripe in there by the time we got back.”
Killjoy mumbles through the gag, but none of us fucking care.
To the hostage’s great relief, Rocco finally answers. “Eagle-eye,” he says gruffly, and then his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the hostage. “What the fuck, man? You don’t gotta do this.”
“You’re right,” Eagle-eye says. “We could’ve avoided all of this if you’d just cooperated like a normal fucking human being, but here we are. I’m disappointed, Rocco. Did you need more time to come up with a better story? I’ll give it to you, but I’m not sure your man here wants to pay the price.”
“Wait! Fuck. I was gonna call you today, okay? Let the poor kid live. All he’s done is follow orders. Jesus Christ.”
“Did you think I didn’t fucking mean forty-eight hours when I said it?
I know we haven’t dealt much with each other before, but I like to think my reputation precedes me here.
No one fucks with the Eagles, and there’s a reason for that.
I’m doing my humanitarian duty with this courtesy call, so give my cleaning lady a break.
She’s getting pretty fucking tired of cleaning brains off my office carpet.
” Eagle-eye crosses his arms over his barrel chest and glares at the screen.
Standing up like he is, he probably looks fucking ten feet tall.
Rocco gestures at his screen and talks to someone off camera. “Pull it back a little. We can’t fucking see anything. Go bring Joker.”
Joker? Melody’s dad?
What the fuck? Did Rocco find out we’ve been in contact with him? Or has he been double crossing us the whole time?
The view expands as someone moves the camera back.
On Rocco’s left is a grizzled biker with stringy black hair under a beat-up Stetson.
His eyes are sharp, though, and he’s watching us intently.
He’s got a VP patch on the chest under the club logo, and his name patch reads “Clutch.” First time we’ve seen him. It’s good to put a face to the name.
Interesting.
I keep my face neutral as a man is shoved into view with a cloth bag over his head. His hands are cuffed behind his back, and from the way he’s moving, his ankles might be, too. Looks like a fucking terrorist hostage. What the hell is going on? Even trussed up, he’s standing straight.
I can’t keep my mouth shut. “What the fuck is this? Halloween?”
Both Rocco and Clutch glare at me. Eagle-eye shrugs. “You heard the man. What are you trying to pull here? I’m not in the fucking mood for theatrics.”
“Just playing it safe.” Rocco sneers at the hooded figure. “I had some conflicting information and it took a minute to get to the bottom of things. Didn’t want to have a repeat of our last conversation, if you get me.”
Clutch nods next to him. “You better fucking appreciate this, because it’s not easy. Still figuring out who his supporters are, but for now, we’ve got the ringleader.” His voice hints at a lot of packs smoked over the course of his life.
“Maybe I should thank you,” Rocco says, taking over again.
“Red was an easy scapegoat, but if we hadn’t kept digging, we wouldn’t have found the snake in the grass.
It’s always the dagger kept closest to your heart you gotta watch out for.
” He grins without humor and puts a hand on the shoulder of his captive.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Clutch insists.
Rocco sighs. “Guess I’m getting old and he thought it was time to push me off my perch by creating a crisis.”
Riptide glances my way and rolls his eyes. So much fucking theater. Get to the point.
“Take his hood off.” Rocco nods his head at one of the guards.
The face that’s revealed is rugged, with cold eyes glaring out from under thick eyebrows. His hair’s dark, shoulder length and tied back. It looks like he normally shaves but obviously didn’t get the chance this morning. It would be hard to manage around the gag in his mouth, after all.
There’s something familiar about his facial structure.
Oh, fuck.
“Joker, my Sergeant at Arms. Been with us for, fuck, what is it? Damn near thirty years. One of his conspirators confessed to making it look like he was attacking his own daughter to throw us off the trail. Red got in the way, poor kid. Your man got in the way too and Joker decided to use it to his advantage. Your guy’s lucky to still be alive.
Wish mine was, too.” He gestures at Joker like he’s a store display.
“I owe him a fucking bullet to his brain for everything he’s done, but the living are more important than the soon-to-be dead.
You can have him, but I want my boy there and Melody back in exchange. Then we’re even.”
This whole fucking time, Clutch has been standing there with his arms crossed, looking like the picture of loyalty. This whole setup still stinks worse than Killjoy, but Melody trusts this guy. He’s one of the only men her father let around her, so I don’t want to discount that, either.
Rebel shifts closer to me. “Think they’re throwing him under the bus, just like Red? Feels awfully convenient,” he whispers.
I nod. Fuck.
But what if it’s true?
It’s been a possibility this whole time, but his cooperation made it seem unlikely.
If he’s our guy, how the fuck do we even tell her that?
Would he really put the gun in his own daughter’s backpack?
She said he had the opportunity. I don’t want to believe that he’d fuck over his own flesh and blood, but I’ve seen worse in my day.
Power will do some fucked up things to people.
I exchange glances with Rebel and Riptide, and it’s obvious they’re thinking the same thing. Something is fucked up here, and at this point it might be us.
“We got your boy here, no problem, but the girl?” Eagle-eye stares Rocco down, waiting to see him flinch. “I don’t want to turn her over to you just to find out you put her to death for the sins of her father.”
“Who the fuck do you think we are?” Clutch breaks in.
“We’re not monsters. I was there the day that girl was fucking born.
I counted her father as one of my brothers until I couldn’t ignore the proof anymore.
It’s not her fault her father’s a traitor.
And even if he is, he’s still one of us, which makes her family.
How do you think I can look our men in the eyes and tell them we abandoned her? ”
Rocco nods in agreement. “Give us both and you can have your shooter, and we’ll both be done with this. I assume you’ve already got plans for him to make sure he won’t bother either of us again.”
“What if Melody doesn’t wanna leave? It should be her choice, shouldn’t it?” I ask. King gives me a look, but doesn’t seem surprised that I’m not happy with the situation.
Clutch laughs. “She knows me. Fuck, go ahead and ask her. I’m her fucking uncle as far as she’s concerned.
The last thing I want is for her to see this.
” He looks over at Joker. “This hurts, ‘cause me and Joker go way back. But for as long as she’s in your possession, that’s a threat you’re holding over us.
You seriously think she’s gonna want to play house with the people who killed her father?
She’ll get her choice, but not until she’s home and can make it away from you. ”
Eagle-eye looks at us, one after another, and the message in his hard gaze is easy enough to understand.
Clutch is right. If the situation were the other way around and one of our women was being held over there, we’d want to get her back and hear it from her own lips, too.
Besides, ending this conflict and preventing war is more important than us losing a couple days with Melody. The club always comes first.
Fuck.
We’re gonna have to talk about this, but we can’t do that in front of the enemy.
I examine Joker’s features, looking for any sign of the truth, but all I see is cold, hard fury.
He’s not giving shit away, and whether that’s because he knows he’s fucked either way or because someone’s lying is impossible to tell.
Eagle-eye nods. “I need to talk with my men. I’ll get back to you so we can work out the details for the exchange.” Then he cuts the call and lets out a frustrated breath. “What do we think?”
“I don’t like it,” King says. “Joker held up his end of the deal and got us the ballistics report. We know it was the same shooter. Why the fuck would he do that if it would just make him look bad?”
Rebel holsters his pistol while he nods.
“Yeah, but Joker’s fucked either way. If we turn this down, they aren’t going to just let him go after pointing the finger at him publicly.
If he’s guilty, that means Harper’s boys have missed out on their revenge.
If he’s not, then Melody’s father got fucking killed for nothing. Either way, we lose.”
“But if we accept the trade, that includes Melody going back to the Brigade.” Riptide looks like he’d rather have a tooth out without fucking painkillers. “I don’t like that idea either.”
“She trusts Clutch.” The words taste sour. “At least that’s the impression I’ve got.”
“Woulda thought she trusted her father too,” Rebel shoots in.
At that, Riptide shrugs. “I don’t know, to be honest. He kept her and her mother out of club business completely. She knows him as her father, but she doesn’t know shit about who he really is.”
Eagle-eye strokes his mustache. “Not much of a choice at all. I’m gonna let Rocco stew a little bit so he doesn’t think he’s got me at his beck and call, and then I’m gonna arrange the trade.
According to Emily and Doc, Lightning is awake and starting to come around.
Hopefully he remembers enough to at least point a finger.
I advise you boys to go prepare your girl. Club’s gotta come first.”
Fuck. That was what I was afraid of.