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WHEN I ARRIVED home, I left my bike in the driveway, unlocked the door, and went inside. When I reached the kitchen, a man was waiting for me at the table. He was dressed in a long, black leather overcoat and wore gloves.
“You Raptor?” he asked pointing his nine millimeter at me.
“Yeah, who the fuck are you?”
He put the gun down on the table. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”
“Jesus Christ, how the fuck did you get in here?” I snapped, not too happy that he’d made himself at home and was drinking one of my beers.
The Judge, who had dark hair and light blue eyes, smirked. “Back door. Used the key hidden under the pot with the dead Begonias. Did anyone ever tell you to water your flowers?”
I frowned. “I didn’t hide a spare key there.”
“Then you’d better figure out who did.”
Brandy.
It had to be her. It was even her flower pot.
“I need to change my fucking locks,” I said, staring at him, trying to find some kind of resemblance. From what I could see, there wasn’t anything other than maybe the eye color.
“That mine?” he asked, nodding to the package in my arm.
“Yeah.” I handed it to him. “It’s all there.”
He opened it up and pulled out the folder with Breaker’s information. “I don’t need this,” he said, tossing it aside. Then he pulled out the bundles of money and counted them. “Looks like it’s all here,” he said before standing up.
“So, when are you going to do it?”
“Do what?” he asked, walking toward the kitchen door.
“Kill the fucker?”
He stopped abruptly and then turned around to face me. His smile was cold. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Murder is a crime, kid. You should know that.”
“I’m not your fucking ‘kid’,” I said, not appreciating his condescending bullshit.
“Relax, brother,” he said, smirking again. “Didn’t your daddy ever teach you the importance of self-control?”
“My old man’s idea of self-control was waiting until seven a.m. for his first shot of whiskey,” I said. “From what I hear, your old man wasn’t much better, Jordan.”
I thought he’d be pissed, but instead, he surprised me. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he replied, removing one of his gloves. He lifted his right hand and even I had to wince at the scars. “He demanded self-control. As you can see, I learned it early on.”
“That’s from acid, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Looks like ‘Dear Old Ma’ sure knew how to pick ‘em.”
I smirked. “No shit. Have you met her?”
“No,” he said, putting the glove back on. “And I really don’t care to.”
“I haven’t seen her in years myself.”
“Lucky you,” he said, walking out of the kitchen.
I followed him. “What happens now?”
“I leave,” he said, turning around. There was a look of mirth in his eyes. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Did you want to ask me anything?”
“About what?”
“We’re brothers. Thought you’d be curious.”
“It’s only blood, kid,” he said, heading down the steps. “Don’t get hung up on it.”
I didn’t know what else to say. It was obvious that he wasn’t interested in shooting the shit, but that didn’t stop me from being curious. “See you around?”
He grunted. “In my occupation, you’d better hope that you don’t.”
I stared at him.
He grinned and then left.
I pulled out my cell phone. “He’s paid,” I told Slammer.
“He say when it’s going to happen?”
“No. In fact, he acted like he didn’t know what the fuck I was even talking about when I asked him the same thing.”
“That’s the way he is. Okay, get your ass to the chapel. Meeting is going to start in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
He hung up.
I put my phone away and went around the house, checking the locks. Then I went outside and found the key he’d replaced under the flower pot. I stuck it in my pocket, threw the flower pot away, and left for the clubhouse.
––––––––
SLAMMER SMACKED THE gavel and called the meeting to order. There were nineteen of us in the Jensen Chapter, plus three prospects hoping to be patched. The prospects were absent, as they weren’t allowed at the meetings for obvious reasons.
It was most of the same stuff, with the treasurer going over our finances, new correspondences, and then us voting on prospects. When that was finished, Slammer made a surprising announcement.
“You all have heard by now what happened to my Old Lady’s daughter,” he said, staring down at his folded hands. “And about my meeting with Mud last night.”
“How did that go?” asked Horse.
“Actually, it didn’t go very well. But, that’s already old news.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering where he was going with this.
He grinned. “Well, today, we talked and I think we’ve cleared up our issues. We even called a truce.”
“No shit?” said Chopper.
“That’s right,” he replied, smiling around at everyone. I had to give him credit, he was smooth when he wanted to be. “The shit between us is all smoothed over. We’re good.”
“What about Breaker?” asked Horse.
His smile faltered. “Well, as usual, my fucking temper got the best of me when I first found out about the incident. But we all know that you can’t go pointing fingers without evidence. Truth is, we have no proof that Breaker is the one who attacked Jessica. Could have been a number of fuckers. Hell, she’s not even sure herself who did it.”
“But they were wearing a cut that matched the Devil’s Rangers,” said Chopper, looking frustrated. “Come on, Prez. You know one of them did it. You fucking know they did.”
“I have to agree with Slammer,” said Buck. “Unless we know for sure who did it, we can’t go killing people without proof. Can’t kill an innocent man for another man’s sins.”
“Yeah, but he’s the only one who’s done time for rape,” said Chopper.
“You know this, how?” asked Slammer.
Chopper grunted. “I’m your Intelligence Officer, come on. It didn’t take me long to find this shit out.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” he replied.
“You sure you want to let this go?” asked Horse.
“Like I said before, no proof. Plus, I gave Mud my word that none of the Gold Vipers would touch Breaker,” he replied. He looked at me and then the others. “And I plan on keeping my word. There will be no retaliation. No revenge, no nothing. Understood?”
We all agreed.