Chapter 20
twenty
MAC
As much as Logan and I amuse ourselves with ways to close up Mad Bob’s shop through the end of lunch, there’s an underlying note of seriousness to our discussion.
Brenna wasn’t injured today but she could have been.
When Max calls back with the news that he’s found a signal coming out of the shop that doesn’t match any of Logan’s cameras or the employees’ phones, the knowledge the skinheads have been spying on Bren burns.
After we finish lunch, she calls her friend Nicky and fills him in.
They decide to close the shop for a few days, since they can’t guarantee their clients’ privacy or the employees’ safety.
I can see the decision wounds Bren on a level that snuggles won’t immediately fix.
I give them to her anyway, until she falls asleep in my arms while we’re cuddled on the couch.
I tuck her under one of Emily’s fuzzy, blue blankets and join Logan in his office.
He’s watching the CCTV footage again but shuts it off as soon as I enter.
“Don’t stop on my account,” I tell him. “I have a couple of phone calls to make.”
“Okay.” Logan taps the footage back on.
“Have you seen anything yet?” I ask as I take out my phone.
“Someone’s definitely coming and going. They’ve figured out where the cameras are, though.
” He points at one of the screens. “There’s a window here that’s in the shadow of a couple of trees.
I think that’s how they’re getting in. There’s movement in the trees late every night and early every morning but I can’t get a clear view of what it is. Hell, it could just be a big dog.”
“Coming and going through a window? Is the window open? And why would a dog do that?”
“Dunnow. As far as I know there’s no food missing, although there is a kitchen at the club. It might be raiding the pantry.” He shrugs. “Club’s warm and dry.”
“Huh.” I don’t have anything else to offer, so I dial my daughter.
I’m a little early, but I know she’ll want to hear about Brenna sooner rather than later.
Naomi sounds brighter than she did yesterday.
I focus on Brenna’s impressive self-defense skills when I tell Naomi about the attack rather than the potential horror of her being beaten by three men.
But it’s still very much on my mind. After listening to Naomi rave about her new math tutor, I promise I’ll call her tomorrow and let her get back to studying.
Then I call Taco, expecting to be able to vent some of my anger on him for disappearing all day to fill the Grand fucking Canyon of his stomach.
I’m more than a little surprised when Napa answers his phone. “Where are you, Mac?” he asks.
“Logan’s house, a few blocks away from Brenna’s shop. Where are you?”
“Mount Sinai. I just got here. Taco was jumped by three guys this morning.”
Three guys? Could that be a coincidence? It’s a big city and, as with all big cities, there’s violence, but that seems too coincidental.
“Fuck. Is he okay?”
“Broken arm and a concussion.”
“Did he see them?”
“Ski masks.”
“Ask him if one of them had ‘move on’ tattooed on his knuckles. If so, I think he was jumped by the same three guys who attacked Brenna.”
“Hold on.” I hear muffled talking and then Napa swearing. “He says he thinks so. One of them had tattoos on his knuckles that were hard to read. Is Brenna okay?”
“Yeah. She kicked their asses.”
“Good for her. Your subbie’s tougher than she looks.
So, this wasn’t random. I was afraid someone jumped Taco because he’s Oidhri.
That’s why I didn’t call you immediately.
I wanted to put out feelers and see if Taco’d somehow tripped over some Hell’s Angels or something.
They supposedly cleared out of Manhattan, but you never know.
This sounds tied-in to your girl’s problem with the skinheads, though. ”
It certainly does.
“Napa, I’m so sorry I’ve involved you—”
He cuts me off with a rough, “Don’t apologize. We offered protection and we offered for a reason. This is the brotherhood, Mac. This is what I meant when I said we will always stand shoulder to shoulder and you will never need to say thank you or I’m sorry.”
He did say that during the party. Was it only two nights ago? With everything that’s happened today, it feels longer. “I appreciate it.”
“Text me the address. Cinder and I will head over.”
“Head over?” I ask, not quite following.
“This is an Oidhri problem now. Taco might just be a prospect, but he’s our prospect and we protect our own. Cinder and I’ll sit down with you and figure out how to deal with these assholes. Time to put them out of business.”
I look at Logan, who is listening to the conversation intently.
“Funny you should say that,” I tell Napa. “See you soon.”
With the two bikers, Max, and Manny, Logan’s office feels a little crowded.
Emily’s taken her laptop and disappeared, but Bren’s curled up beside me on the couch.
She’s still wearing Logan’s bathrobe, because she’s having trouble staying warm even though the house is balmy.
Underneath the terrycloth, she’s wearing her soft, black pants and my Black Sabbath concert T-shirt.
I’d intended to save the shirt as a reward until after I’d given her the permanent collar and claimed her holes a third time.
Seeing her look so small and lost after she woke up from her nap made me bust it out early. Her grin made it worthwhile.
While Max walks the bikers through all his surveillance of Mad Bob and the skinheads, I cuddle Bren to my side and speak softly to her. “How are you feeling now, sweetheart?”
“Warmer, Sir. I don’t remember getting cold like this after fights when I was with the East C girls. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”
“You haven’t fought since your hip was crushed, right?
” At her nod, I continue. “That was a decade ago, girl. Your body isn’t geared to violence anymore.
Sparring’s not the same. I should know. There’s a world of difference between a boxing match and a firefight.
Battle hits you right in the adrenal gland.
Think of it like a scene. You used up a hell of a lot of calories and chemicals during the fight just like you do in a good scene.
Your body’s depleted. It’s going to take a while to build back up to where you feel normal again. ”
She lets out a little huff. “Only I would get post-fight sub drop.”
“Could be a lot worse, sweetheart. Your body could be trying to heal a broken arm and a concussion as well.”
“I feel terrible about that, Sir. There I was thinking he was eating his way through the East Village and instead he was getting beat up.”
I squeeze her shoulders. “I feel the same way. I apologized to Napa for getting them tangled up in this. You want to know what he said?”
Bren nods.
“He said this is the brotherhood.”
She looks impressed.
“This is the brotherhood I’ve been looking for, girl.”
“I can see why, Sir. If you do join up, I want one of the Ladies’ Auxiliary shirts.”
“You have a Black Sabbath concert shirt, girl. That’s all the shirt you’ll ever need.”
“The Oidhri T-shirts are so much cooler.”
“That’s a clothespin on the tongue, you cretin.”
She laughs for the first time in hours.
I smile at the sound and kiss her temple. “If I haven’t said it in the last fifteen minutes, I’m proud of you, girl.”
“Why? I’m a shaking wreck. A jab, two kicks, and an elbow, and I’m such a mess you’d have thought I was in an all-day cage match. Not a lot to be proud of here, Sir.”
I gather her dreads in my hand and gently pull her head back until she has to meet my eyes.
“I. Am. Proud. Of. You. Girl,” I say.
Her face relaxes despite my hold on her hair. “They were good kicks.”
“I’m sure they were. That’s not why I’m proud of you.
I’m proud of you for keeping your head when confronted with three men you knew intended to hurt you.
I’m proud of you for being strong and trained enough to fight them off.
I’m proud of you for coming to me and letting me take care of you when it was over.
And I’m extremely proud that through all of it, you kept thinking of other people.
Me. Emily. Your employees and clients. Even Taco.
Given everything you’ve been through, Bren, you could have come out uncaring and self-centered.
I can’t tell you how impressed I am that you didn’t. ”
“Thank you, Sir.”
When I let her head drop forward, she rests it on my shoulder.
After exhaustively reviewing everything we know about Mad Bob and the Fairskin Knights, Napa goes out into the hall to make a phone call while Cinder pulls one of the guest chairs in front of us and drops into it, his riding leathers creaking.
“While I like both blowing up the guy’s plumbing and sealing his shop in a concrete coffin,” Cinder says with a grin.
“I think Napa’s going to want to deal with this a different way.
He’s trying to get a line into the Knights to talk with their grand poo-bah or imperial wizard or whatever the fuck he calls himself.
He wants them out of it. Then we’re going to confront these three clowns who thought they could fuck up our prospect directly.
Sounds like you did a number on them.” He nods to Bren.
“Good start, but that’s not enough. They broke Taco’s bones, so I’m going to break theirs. ”
“I was trying to avoid anything that would result in jail time,” I say.
“Appreciate that but I’m sergeant at arms and this is what I do.”
I rub my chin for a minute. There’s a difference between defending yourself, as Bren did today, and beating a man in a bar fight, which I’ve done a few times, and the premeditated decision to break someone’s bones, which is what Cinder’s proposing.
I’m much more comfortable at the defense/bar fight end of the spectrum when it comes to civilians.