24. Vandal
VANDAL
“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” I ask Daisy for the hundredth time.
Havoc and I took his truck to the airport, so he came with me to drop them at their apartment to pack. But my heart is split. I want to be here to keep them safe, and I also want to be in the clubhouse to understand why the heck that guy was hanging around in plain sight.
“Go,” she says, looking at Rainbow and Tango, two old-timers Knox sent to give her cover, and the two prospects. A combination of youth and experience in four bodies to watch the exterior corridor. “We’ll be ready and packed by the time you get here.”
I reach for her, wrapping my fingers around her wrist. “Stay inside until I get back.”
“I will.”
I kiss her. Again. It’s like she’s a figment of my imagination, and I have to touch her just to prove she’s real.
“Okay,” Havoc says, with a humorous groan. “We need to go, Van.”
“Later.” I release Daisy. “Bye, Els,” I shout into the apartment.
“Bye, Vandal.” The shouted reply comes from inside.
Both of us smile at that.
I spin on my heel, and we head down the stairs to the truck.
“Ridge and Sunny have some important questions to answer,” Havoc says. “How could they not have figured out he was a spy?”
We climb into the truck and head back to the clubhouse. “In fairness to the two of them, we didn’t know what his tattoo was.”
When we get to the clubhouse, the guy is exactly where Knox said he’d be: handcuffed to a steel chair in one of the old storage buildings to the left of the compound.
His face is already bruised, his lip split open, and his shirt has been ripped off his body to reveal the ink on his wrist that frightened Daisy.
Knox has his arms crossed over his chest. “Says his name is Cristian. Thought you might want to talk to him first.”
I appreciate the gesture. It’s a way back in to finding my feet. And it’s something connected to Elsie and Daisy’s safety.
The guy squints up at me, then grins. “You the big guy that fell? Word is they put your ass down like a domino.”
It’s the wrong move because it’s not going to get the reaction Christian wants. A couple of the brothers shift behind me.
The old version of me might have exploded. But the time I spent with Doc taught me an important lesson. Confidence is quiet, but insecurity needs an audience.
So I grab another chair and sit down in front of him, so close that he can feel how coldly calm I am.
“Yeah. They dropped my ass, ‘cos there were five of them and a van. But guess what. I’m still standing. It won’t take five of my brothers to break you, because my methods are a lot worse than yours.”
For the first time, uncertainty flickers across his face.
Deep down in my gut, a moral quandary stirs. Can I really inflict what’s happened to me on him? Am I just perpetuating violence for violence’s sake?
But then I remember why I’m doing this.
Alvarez came onto our turf, demanding recompense from someone who wasn’t one of ours, holding us responsible for the debt someone else had made.
But maybe the lesson is that while the pain doesn’t last, the fear does.
“Can you get me some pliers?” I ask Havoc.
Havoc moves to the tool rack and grabs me a pair.
Cristian tries to shuffle away from me in his chair, but he has nowhere to go. His eyes go wide as I reach for his pinkie finger and begin to bend it backwards.
“You know what Alvarez gets wrong?” I say, as if I’m discussing the weather.
“Wha…Wha...What?”
“He thinks fear only works in one direction.”
I open the pliers, grip his pinkie finger hard, and snap it backwards.
The scream echoes around the room.
I release his hand, then lean forward, placing my lips next to his ear. “They may have dropped my ass, but at least I didn’t scream like a baby.”
It takes twenty minutes for Cristian to start singing like a canary.
We get drug routes and collection crews and safe houses. We get the names of lieutenants. Everything.
North records the interrogation on his phone. Ballsy move. But we need a record.
The amount of information is ridiculous, except…
“Wait. Why does a low-level guy know all this shit?” I ask.
Cristian shakes. Five broken fingers will do that to you. I currently have the sixth in the pliers.
Knox puts his hand on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Putting a plant in an MC is a big deal,” I say. “Very high risk for high reward. You send your best. Someone keen to prove their value to the organization. Maybe has a bit of a death wish. And that’s not this guy.”
Havoc holds out Christian’s phone. “What’s the pin?”
He wouldn’t tell us earlier, but now he’s in agony. “I’m dead if I tell you.”
Knox shrugs. “Hate to break it to you, kid. But you’re dead if you don’t.”
Sunny laughs, the crack breaking through the storage building.
“Two, eight, nine, three, five, two,” he says.
But something Knox says jogs something in my brain.
Kid.
“You’re someone important’s son, aren’t you.”
“Fuck you,” Cristian spits through tears.
I move the pliers to his ear, and he fights something feral. But Knox steps behind him and clamps his palms around his head, holding it steady so I can grip the soft fleshy lobe of his ear.
“Alright, alright. Mateo Alvarez is my uncle.”
Havoc’s mouth opens. “Guys, we got the motherlode. Alvarez is in his contacts. Home address. Current plans. Everything.”
Knox lets go of Cristian’s ear. “You just got a whole lot more valuable.”
It’s nearly ten o’clock by the time I get back to the apartment because we decided to keep Cristian as collateral. Knox is just trying to figure out how to get the biggest buck for him.
Havoc is running Cristian’s phone for now.
My truck battery was flat after sitting in the lot for so long, so we load up Daisy and Elsie’s things into his truck to ride home. Then I get in the car with Daisy and Elsie and follow him.
Elsie’s head bobs as she sleeps in the back.
When we park up, she stirs and mumbles. I get out of the car, then extract Elsie. She flops against me as I hook her on my hip.
When she sees Elsie in my arms, Daisy smiles softly.
“Let’s get you both inside, then I’ll come out for the bags,” I say, before taking Daisy’s hand to walk her to the door.
“So, this is your home,” Daisy says.
“Yeah. It’s gonna be a bit of a mess and not much of a home. But we can figure out how to fix it so you two are comfortable tonight.”
Daisy grips my fingers. “I’m sure it will be fine. And we’ll be together.”
“Did you guys eat?” I ask.
Daisy nods. “Just some pasta and meatballs. I made you a serving. It’s in the back of the truck.”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. “Thank you.”
I open the door and let Daisy walk in ahead of me.
But when I first step inside, I feel like an intruder in my own space.
Flicking on the entrance hall lights makes a difference.
I fell in love with this place when I bought it, and yet I ran out of steam fixing it up somewhere along the way.
Stepping back inside reminds me of the potential I could once see in it.
It’s a single story, but with tall ceilings, which are a bit unusual for this neighborhood.
It’s pretty open plan, with space for a dining table I never bought to my left, beyond that a contemporary bright kitchen.
The living room is a large rectangle, but I’d started to sketch out a large media unit for my TV and electronics with a false back for all the cables to drop behind and never completed it.
As it is, the TV is currently sitting on a low wood stand overflowing with gadgets and surrounded by cables.
Maybe it’s something I could lose myself in, trying to fix it up like I envisioned the day I bought it for the family I’m building. There are three bedrooms, although one of them isn’t much. I thought about turning it into a closet before I realized it’s not like I have that many clothes.
“Shit. I don’t have a spare bed. Just a king in my room. You and Elsie can sleep in there, and I’ll just crash on the floor or the sofa.”
Daisy shakes her head. “If it’s a king, we’ll all fit. If that’s okay with you.”
Once, I would have thought it wasn’t, but somehow it makes sense. “I’d like to keep us all together too.”
I lead them to my room, lay Elsie down on the bed, and show Daisy where everything is.
The house needs dusting, vacuuming, and a lethal amount of disinfectant in the bathroom.
But the bedding is clean, and there are new navy towels hanging on the wall.
Thick and plush. And I think about those hand towel–size sheets hanging on Daisy’s rail.
“Could I get a glass of water next to the bed? She sometimes wakes up thirsty.”
As Elsie dozes, I brush my lips over Daisy’s. “I can do that.”
“I’m sorry this isn’t the reunion I suggested.”
You think when we’ve gotten home, and calmed down, and maybe eaten something other than pie, and slept, we can have a do-over on this reunion?
I look at Elsie sleeping safe and sound. And I also have Daisy under my roof. There’s a warmth in my chest I can’t put words to. I pull Daisy to me and kiss her forehead. “Maybe it’s something better.”