For Your Sake (17 page)

              “We have,” Vic told him.  “But the ratio to what we earn on the narcotics run compared to our other……ventures is a lot higher.  You’re pulling the rug out from under us with no warning, Emie.”

              As Emilio thought, Ben stared at the front window, wanting nothing more than to put this guinea chatterbox right through it.  He wants to go and quote sayings?  What’s that one about a tongue digging your grave……?.”

              “That batch you moved – the one which was almost hijacked?  Move it out in two weeks.  Usual route.  Let’s consider it your last hurrah, which I’ll compensate you generously for.”

              Ben had no idea how Vic could be so calm, but he knew the wheels were churning inside his president’s head.  “What can I say, Emilio?  Business is business.  You need to do what’s best for your family,” he stood up as Aero followed, signaling for the rest of the Skulls to come forward, “and I need to do what’s best for my club.”

              Bending over, Vic leaned across the table, offering his hand to Emilio for a parting shake before adding.  “And I will.”

Chapter Ten

              If Ben could describe his position with the Skulls it was a love-hate relationship.  He loved the club.  Loved his brothers.  The loyalty, the family unit, the camaraderie, the knowing that someone will not only  have your back, but take a bullet meant for it – that was the pull which sucked him in and gave him what he had long gone without.

              But enforcing the code which kept safe what he held so dear was the part that inwardly tore at him.  There was no question when something had to be ‘taken care of’.  Ben had been that guy Vic could count on to execute (no pun intended) the end to a means ever since he bashed that guy’s skull with a two by four for Tanner.  His imposing presence coupled with an unnerving calmness made him the man who could do the job without going all John Rambo on someone. 

Controlled and detatched. Quick and easy.  In, done and out. A stranger no more than registered a blip on his emotional radar and killing his own sister had messed with his head a bit.  But when it’s a member, a brother, someone you lowered your defenses enough to get close to, trust and patch in, only for them to betray you – that’s the kind of kill which nauseated him the most, no matter how deserving.  Dewey wasn’t a Skull, but he was part of his own brotherhood which upheld the same code of loyalty.

It wasn’t something the club made habit of - only when there was a direct threat to their existence, their livelihood and their freedom.  When a vote went down for Ben to commit one of the Skulls ‘three deadly sins’, it had to be meaningful, as if a killing could even be considered such.

              Nearly three weeks after his sister became his most recent ‘meaningful’ kill, Ben leaned up against a large tree trunk in a heavily, wooded area off 43 in Carrollton.  The early October night was chilled enough to where he could see his breath.  Crouched next to him, Taz looked through a pair of binoculars down the road as they quietly waited to catch Dewey making a parts drop.  No matter what valuable intel Taz would no doubt be able to extract from him, there was already a pre-determined end to this means which Ben was ready to provide.

              “Where are you?”  Taz quietly sung huddled behind a boulder as he chewed and snapped gum.  When Ben didn’t need to act alone, Taz usually accompanied him to do the messy work which needed to be done first.  In all the notches he racked up under his belt for the club, not one drop of blood ever spattered onto his clothes.  For a brief moment within the dismal circumstances, he thought of Eva.  She was right.  He was a neat freak.  He then let his mind wander a little bit more, wondering if she was home tonight.  The dropping temperature and the full ring of chopped wood in her backyard gave him a grand excuse to swing by and set up her fireplace.

              “Bingo,” Taz exclaimed, straightening up.  Against another tree, he dropped the binoculars into a small, dark duffel then tugged at the leather pouch strapped onto his belt.  “Curtain’s up, Big Ben.”

              Taz loved to talk, and when it came time for this, he was extra chatty during the process.  His jovial blabbering just made his victims more nervous – kind of like the scene in
Reservoir Dogs
where Mr. Blonde danced around to ‘
Stuck In The Middle With
You
’ before slicing off the cops ear.  He and Taz definitely took different approaches to their……work.

              “Stay still.”  Ben held out a gloved hand, motioning towards Taz, while pulling out his revolver, silencer already on.  Dewey was anything but stealth as he noisily trudged his way through the wooded ground, snapping twigs and rustling leaves in the process.  Then again, to his defense, he thought he was all alone out here. 

              A loud ‘thunk’ signaled Dewey had dropped the large, cardboard box he was carrying before shuffling noises indicated he was in search of brush to cover it over.  Taz was salivating, not to mention quiet for too long, and Ben finally indulged him by indicating ‘go’.

              “Yo, my man.”  The Skull with the look of a devil popped out from behind a tree, looking as if he was greeting his long, lost frat buddy.  “What up?”

              Caught off guard, Dewey fumbled for his piece inside his Hogs cut which he stupidly wore.  MC-101:  never wear your cut when not on club business.  Unfortunately for Dewey, Ben was quicker as he came out from behind Taz, his revolver aimed right at Dewey’s forehead.  The newly-patched Hog let out a sound which indicated just how fucking fucked he was.  “Fuck, shit,” he groaned, lifting his hands in surrender.  “What the fuck, man?”

              Pulling off his gloves, Taz rubbed his hands together to warm them – and prepare them.  “You, my sneaky friend,” Taz mused, walking over towards the box.  “Mind if I take a peeky?”

              Dewey’s body was stone still, but his mouth was another story.  “Shit, who the fuck……?  Look, man just take ‘em.  Take whatever you want.  Got about two bills in my wallet, k?  Let me leave and I won’t say shit.”

              What a fucking pussy, Ben thought.  If Dewey was this fast to give over hot merchandise and whatever cash he had on him, then Taz would barely break a sweat to get what they needed. 

              “Oh, sorry,” Taz said, tapping a finger against his black beard.  “Guess I missed the memo where
you
were callin’ the shots.”  He then placed a hard slap on Dewey’s back.  “I think not, Dewey-boy.”

              “How……how the hell……who the fuck are you?”

              “Hey!”  Taz smacked him in the head.  “No questions.”  He then walked behind Dewey and reached into his pouch.  Bringing down both his hands, he zip-tied Dewey’s wrists together before removing something else from his pouch.  “Now, that’s better,” Taz said, moving around front.  All the while, Ben stood in back, gun trained between Dewey’s eyes.  “So, buddy.  My spidey-sense tells me you’re in a givin’ mood.  Givin’ your club’s parts away, givin’ your money away.”  He then raised a pair of pliers, quickly clamping onto one of Dewey’s front teeth.  “Let’s see if you’re willin’ to sacrifice those pretty, little choppers.”

The new patch’s eyes widened with fear of the anticipated pain as he began to make guttural sounds at the back of his throat.  “What?  What’s that?” Taz teasingly asked, knowing the guy couldn’t answer.  “Oh, don’t worry.  They’re sterilized.  Least I think they are.”  Taz shrugged.  “No matter.  So….Dewey, Dewey, Dewey.  Nod yes or no, okie-dokie?”

              Behind them Ben was getting a bit agitated.  He knew this was Taz’s specialty and that the poor guy had been without anyone to exercise his expertise on for quite some time.  The day was long, the meeting with Emilio hadn’t fully digested and the Saturday night party was raging at the clubhouse this very moment.  He wanted this done and over with.  He wanted to get back to Tippitt, have some good whiskey then find some sweet thing to wrap her mouth around his dick and put a certain blue-eyed brunette out of his mind.  Even as he thought that, he cringed.  On a job, he was always all club.  His focus sharp.  His blinders only on the task in front of him.  There was no room for error – nor the thought of pussy.

              In front of him he watched Dewey nod his head as Taz began his own task.  “Good man.  Knew you’d be agreeable.  So……here are the rules.  I ask the questions, you answer ‘em.  Oh, and I’ve already figured out how many teeth you can be without and still speak, so don’t think you’re totally off the hook.”

              Dewey continued with some unintelligible blabbering, most likely trying to say ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’ with his mouth cranked wide open.  “Calm down, calm down.  Now, you wanna tell us who’s goin’ to be the beneficiary of these fine, stolen parts?”

              More strained mumblings gurgled out of Dewey’s throat before Taz smacked his own forehead.  “Whoops, sorry.  My bad.”  He removed the pliers from Dewey’s front tooth.  “Slowly and quietly, my severely fucked friend,” he warned.

              Dewey was panting so hard his heart was likely to explode.  “I…..I don’t know…never got a…..”

              The pliers were shoved back into his mouth, now firmly attached to his two front teeth.  “Trust me, asshole.  You don’t want someone who doesn’t have a degree in dentistry doin’ this.”

              Ben had to admit, Taz put on quite a show.  He actually didn’t go out of his way to get messy if it wasn’t necessary, but rather got off on the psychological and emotional abuse he could inflict on someone about to experience the most excruciating pain in their life.

              Taz tugged hard as a scream ripped from the back of Dewey’s throat.  “Name,” Taz ordered.  “First, good.  Last even better.  Address, phone number, email and Twitter handle – I may send you off with a lollipop.  Spill it, dickhead.”

              Again, the pliers were removed and Dewey sputtered, choked, coughed and even yacked up a bit of vomit before he began to ramble.  “Joey……guy’s name is Joey….Italian….wears a thick, gold chain…..met ‘im only once…..always calls from a burner….blocks number.” He paused for a much needed breath.  “I swear to
fuck
that’s all I know!”

              Finding restraint, Taz put the pliers away, then curled up his ringed fist and connected with Dewey’s jaw before the idiot had a chance to look half-relieved.  “When’s the pickup?”

              Dewey dropped to his knees, the sound of bone and cartilidge mixing with the crunch of leaves below his legs.  “Midnight,” he sputtered through a mouthful of blood.  “That’s all.  That’s it.  I swear.”  He then looked up, eyes pleading towards Ben’s.  “
Please.  Please don’t.”

              Ben was unfazed, as those words didn’t mean a thing when his own flesh and blood pled them while Taz looked about to cry.  His brother hoped for a little more resistance so he could really indulge, while Ben stood disbelieving.  Not only that the Hogs let such a pathetic piece of shit pass a unanimous vote, but also the possible identity of this ‘Joey.  There was only one Joey of Italian descent who wore a fat, gold chain.  Was Emilio Santagio behind this too, trying to ice out the Skulls from their other ventures?

              And what about these ‘people’ Lisa’s boyfriend and his cohorts were thieving for?  Did they actually exist?  Or was it all a set up by the very same people the Skulls had worked for since the late eighties to prove their incompetence and have good reason to make a clean break?  His finger itched to pull the trigger.  “Taz?”

              With one last look at Dewey, on the ground, blood dripping from his mouth and a line of snot dangling from his nose, Taz shook his head, stood back and conceded.  “All yours, brother.”

              Ben couldn’t kill him fast enough.

~~~***~~~

             
Eva wanted to kick herself.

              She should be good and drunk, her stomach bursting from too much fettuccini Bolognese, her fat cells sponging up every morsel of cheesecake while giggling over her childhood friend’s gushing of her husband’s brand, spanking new hairline and the atomic sex they had following the procedure.  She should be ribbing her friend for being so vain as they opened a second bottle of pinot. Right about now, she should be half-passed out on MaryLynn’s easy chair after changing into a comfy, jersey sleep dress, wrapped in an ugly purple and white blanket George’s grandmother crocheted for her bridal shower.

              No.  Instead, it was almost eleven p.m. and she was in her car and almost home.  Her stomach half rumbling and barely a buzz from the one glass of wine she had.  Of course, MaryLynn drunkenly tried to convince her to stay, but Eva accompanied the wine with several forkfuls of fettuccini and a few cherries she picked off the cheesecake before bidding her friend a good night.  Fortunately MaryLynn was too drunk to fight her nor would even remember she had asked her to stay when she woke up in the morning.  Eva thres a long cardigan on over her night dress she didn’t bother to change out of and snuck out by ten thirty p.m. unscathed.

              As with the ride down to Morgantown, her mind raced all the way home, repeating over and over the information Janice Morrell fed her this afternoon about the local MC and, more importantly, it’s matriarch.  The Skulls may have their feet planted firmly in this town, but it was Elle Connors, the president’s wife, who pretty much had town hall tucked into that expensive, embossed handbag she toted.  Although a member’s mother, Janice wasn’t privy to half the goings-on Elle was, but shared enough about what Eva was too young to know when she lived here to what she missed after moving outside the city limits.  Her dad was pretty much a homebody, going from work to The Water Rock and home when Eva left for school and, aside from various lady friends who flitted in and out of his life, he never permanently attached himself to anyone nor remarried. The man was too heartbroken to have anyone leave him again, a fear which Eva inherited.