A Leap in the Dark (Assassins of Youth MC Book 2) (10 page)

Shumway responded, “That’s what I’m saying. What a beautiful dog.”

Deloy and I shared distressed looks as the inspector bent to pet Lazarus. Lazarus knew no boundaries between friend and family and moronic fucktards who meant us harm. He tilted his massive head toward Shumway and half-closed his eyes as the douchecanoe scratched behind his ears.

“That’s insane,” I told Shumway. “Krav Maga is a self-defense art developed for the Israeli Defense Forces. It’s hardly anything mystical. It takes principles from judo, from boxing and wrestling. We award belts like the judo ranking system. Do you call judo occult?”

“We don’t even meditate or do yoga,” said Deloy.

“If it’s from the Orient, it’s occult,” said Shumway, standing tall again with his clipboard. “Meanwhile, I’m not going to bother with these checklists. I wouldn’t expect a January fourth grand opening if I was you.” And he sauntered out.

Deloy was open-mouthed with shock. “That’s
crazy
, Levon. They’re out to get you, just like you said they’d be.”

I was already speedily texting.

Gideon. Need to talk ASAP.

Hey Levon. I’m at the mine. Come on up.

Be there in fifteen.

Since the sidecar was still hooked up, I decided to give Lazarus a little ride out of town. He didn’t need a leash to walk the short distance to the small back parking lot. He just followed me naturally. I used a leash on busy streets in case he saw a cat and dashed across the road. It was when I turned to pat the sidecar, indicating he should jump in, that I noticed him swaying on his feet.

My heart thudded. Falling to my knees, I saw his tongue lolling from his mouth in an unnatural way. He panted, so I immediately felt under his thick undercoat for a heartbeat. Too fast. I got him belted into the sidecar, but just barely.

I wasn’t going to the mine. I was taking him to Urgent Care.

I ran and got Deloy, who took one look and agreed something was wrong. “It was that building inspector, I tell you, Levon! When he bent over to pet him, I saw him give him some treats of some kind.”

“Fucking hell. Did they look like regular biscuits?”

Deloy frowned. “No,” he said immediately. “White. Small round white things.”

“Fuck me dry. Breath mints. He must’ve poisoned his mints. Stay here to make sure that fucktard doesn’t come around.”

I hated to waste valuable seconds, but before I took off, I had to call Oaklyn with one hand while examining Lazarus with the other.

She answered, thank God.

“Oaklyn. The building inspector gave Lazarus poisoned mints. Call your Dr. Lee and warn him we’re coming.”

“Yes, that’s the closest doctor.” We’d already discussed how there were no veterinarians in the Avalanche area. We’d decided to take Lazarus to Lee in case of emergency. “They might not’ve been poisoned, Levon. Lots of breath mints contain xylitol, a fake sweetener which is deadly to dogs. How long ago did he eat it?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“You could induce vomiting then.”

“If I knew how. Look, I’ve got to ride. Lee’s only ten minutes out of town. See you there.”

I didn’t wait for a response, just flogged it down the frontage road toward Urgent Care. Halfway there I realized Lazarus was vomiting. I’d had to put his goggles on him to protect his eyes, and puke got all over them. His head rested against the edge of the sidecar. I prayed maybe he’d puked all the poison out.

It wasn’t until halfway there I realized I was crying. Big, strong, macho old me had hot tears dripping from my eyes. I can’t remember what else went through my mind on that horrible ride. A giant black pool of doom had flooded my brain, making me unable to think logically. I felt like the one about to puke. I ran stop signs and lane split between cages, always dangerous with a sidecar. When the medical building was within sight I could barely see, my eyes were so blurred.

Oaklyn must’ve flogged it in her cage, too, because she was already there, waiting out front with the doctor.

“We’re going to induce vomiting,” called Oaklyn before I’d even hopped off my scoot.

“He already puked.” I ripped off my own goggles, not caring they were full of water, and threw them on the ground. Oaklyn was already taking off Lazarus’ goggles, taking off his seat belt, and kissing his sweet head.

“Let’s get him inside,” said Lee.

It took all three of us to lift Lazarus from the sidecar and walk him inside. The nurse finally got a sling and we slipped it under his ribcage so we could haul him in to the exam room. We decided not to put him on the table and let him lie on some big towels.

Lee said, “We’re not going to induce vomiting since he’s already vomited. I’m afraid he might inhale it into his lungs.”

“What, then?” I was going to strangle the vet if he couldn’t offer me any concrete help.

“IV fluids. Monitor his blood sugar, administer dextrose,” said Lee. The nurse was already hustling around getting the IV ready, and Lee was taking blood.

I finally looked at Oaklyn. We hadn’t really talked since I’d surprised her—and myself—with that kiss. I was busy sixteen hours a day at my studio, and she spent a lot of time at Save Our Baby Brides, which had recently turned into a safe house for unwanted elderly widows from Cornucopia. Their welfare checks might help them get into Nana’s retirement home, but in the meantime it was a mountain of work for Mahalia and Oaklyn. She told me she was seeing a lot of people with an inbred form of Down Syndrome.

I saw that she already had a deep love for my enormous brown beast. I’d never seen such concern in her eyes. I knew all at once she wasn’t priggish or self-absorbed. As a nurse she had to have empathy for others. Her eyes were filled with such anguish, I almost felt as though I had to comfort
her
. I placed my hand on her arm.

“He’ll be all right,” we both said simultaneously. I was too distraught to laugh at the synchronicity.

I only became awash with rage when it seemed Lazarus was stable. We went into the parking lot so other clients wouldn’t hear my rant.

“Unbe-fucking-lievable! It was obvious they plotted this out beforehand. You don’t just
happen
to give a dog some breath mints.”

“No, you don’t,” Oaklyn angrily agreed. “It’s not their usual treat. You never told me why you think some municipal workers in Avalanche might have it out for you.”

So I told her about Ladell Pratt, up to and including his visit two weeks ago to the Bountiful motel room. That was where her jaw really dropped and she clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Un-fucking-real,” she said, echoing me as best she was capable.

Now I was worked up. I
wanted
to be worked up. I didn’t want anyone to ever be able to say I’d let Ladell Pratt get away with anything. Least of all Oaklyn. Suddenly it was very important that I man up in front of her, that she not see me losing face and a whole lot more.

I started walking to my scoot. “I’m going down to fucking City Hall right now and put a stop to this.”

“Is that smart?” called Oaklyn. “I mean, the mood you’re in and all. I’d hate to see you get arrested for assault with your reputation on the line like this.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” It was true. I’d been harassed in Bountiful in front of a Papa Murphy’s Take ‘n’ Bake. A former client’s wife must’ve recognized me and started shrieking at the top of her lungs. He felt the need to sucker-punch me to prove her wrong, so we wound up rolling on top of this raw pizza dough pounding each other’s lights out. The client had gotten the worst of it, so of course the wife called 911 to report me. And boy did she know exactly where I lived and who I was.

Oaklyn scurried after me. “Let me come. I’d feel a lot better if you had my calming influence on you. And my nurse’s opinion about the dog.”

“No. Stay here with Lazarus.”

Her face fell. “But you’ve got a gun.”

“I’ve always got a gun. I’d be stupid not to.” Actually, I only “always had a gun” since moving to Avalanche and watching my back. Only, I obviously wasn’t doing a very good job if I hadn’t noticed the motherfucker give my dog poison.

“Are you looking for the building inspector or Ladell Pratt?”

“Whoever’s stupid enough to get in my way first.” I took off then, because it looked like she was going to chase me. As much as I’d love to be chased by Oaklyn Warrior, now wasn’t the time for those sorts of games.

I’d only been in City Hall once, when dropping off my business permit application. Since we were doing a very minimal remodel I wasn’t even expecting the building inspector. I doubted Hyrum Shumway would be idiotic enough to be sitting behind his desk, and I was right. I nearly ripped his assistant a new one when all she’d tell me was he was “out in the field.”

I planted my feet squarely and pointed right at her. “Get ahold of him
right now
and tell him Levon Rockwell has an urgent issue with him. He’ll know what the fuck it’s all about.”

She was leaving him a voicemail and I was plotting something to angrily bellow in the background when I noticed someone standing close to me. Too close for comfort.

“Well, well,” said Ladell Pratt, Mayor. “Thought you’d look me up when you got my business card?”

Before I even turned to face him, a fine tremor started in my arms. I knew that sign—it was the urge to thrash, to maim, to destroy. Eyes narrowing, I clenched my hands to remind myself it would behoove no one to lash out at him, especially in public. I’d be arrested in a hot minute. “Well, well,” I seethed back, equally as smarmy. “If it isn’t the world’s most perverted mayor.”

His moon face remained placid. He must’ve been used to these sorts of accusations. His little bowtie jiggled under one of his many chins. “You would know, wouldn’t you? As proprietor of Liberty Temple and all, I mean. And now you’re reminding me how I’ve forgotten to bring up your former employment to my town council.”

“Bring it up all you want. I’ve got nothing to hide. I object when you start threatening my worker Deloy, who’s just trying to make an honest living.”

“Oh, suddenly you’ve become so upright and honest? Why don’t we continue this in my office, shall we?”

That didn’t bode well, and I wanted the assistant to be a witness, so I said, “My issue today is with Hyrum Shumway who has knowingly and purposefully poisoned my dog.”

The assistant gasped. Good. She’d heard me.

“My, my,” trilled Pratt in a trivial tone, like he was auditioning for some gay Broadway musical. “That
is
a serious accusation. I presume you have evidence to back this up? Let’s take this to my office.”

In the hallway, I said, “You don’t ride your babyish little hoverboard down the halls? Listen, I’ve got a witness who saw him feed my dog breath mints that contain xylitol which is pure poison for dogs. The doctor
and my roommate who happens to be a registered nurse
both confirmed it was classic xylitol poisoning. I want that fucker arrested for cruelty to animals.”

Pratt gestured for me to enter his office first. It was then I saw the hip holster with some kind of automatic pistol. He’d definitely not been packing when he accosted me in my studio the other day. Suddenly he, too, felt the need for protection.

“Well, if your witness is one of those shifty Lost Boys or one of those criminal Assassins, their word is about as good as Obamacare. Kind of hard to take the word of a drug addict, no?”

I frowned something fierce. Pratt wasn’t going behind his desk. He would have if he was afraid of me, to use it for protection. He definitely had a new, cocksure attitude as he just leaned his lard butt against it, crossing his arms and ankles impudently. He had something up his sleeve.

“Who’s the drug addict? What’re you implying?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Who’s the master and who’s the slave now,
slave
?”

“I don’t even know what the fuck you think you have on me, Pratt. All I know is I don’t think your wife—or should that be ‘wives’?—would take it kindly if she found out about your penchant for eating long, fat cock.”

“Ah! Thank you for bringing that up again, slave. Don’t mind if I do.”

And he bounced himself off the edge of the desk so he could grab me between the legs again!

I automatically executed an upward elbow strike to his fucking chin. His teeth snapped loudly in his stupid skull and he whined loudly, maybe biting his tongue. I saw by the look of shock and dismay in his eyes he hadn’t expected me to defend myself. Did he really think I’d just let him suck me right then and there?
Why
?

“Thass it,” he slurred, holding his chin gingerly. He looked about to cry. For an armed man, he sure was a wuss. But then the gloves came off. “I’ve got videos, Rockwell. I’ve got videos of your little meth-snorting hooker, Deloy Pingree.”

I snorted. “How’s that even possible, Pratt? For one, Deloy doesn’t snort anything. I don’t allow drugs at Liberty Temple.”

“It’s from before Liberty Temple. When Deloy was on the streets.”

“Oh. Well I have no control over what happened to some of those boys, Pratt, after you and your friends were done throwing us under the bus.”

Pratt continued, “Oh yeah? Well I think the dental school would be right interested in it. And the little naked stripping dance video Deloy helped my friend make when he visited him at Liberty.”

What the fuck? I advanced on him until I was practically stepping on his toes. “I don’t allow videos either, you fucking twisted assmuncher.”

He cringed back, a good sign he was intimidated. But he just kept spewing. “Oh, you don’t
knowingly
allow videos, that’s for sure. How else do you think I snuck and got the video of you the other night in the hotel?” His look softened, became almost dreamy. When he went to salaciously lick his lips, I saw that I had drawn blood. He looked like a creepy vampire, smearing his own blood all over his lips like that. “Mmm. Nice fat juicy penis. You’re built like a brick shithouse, Rockwell. Wish I would’ve known how you’d turn out. I might not have helped you off the premises up at Cornucopia. I could’ve kept you as my personal slave.”

That did it. That sent me over the edge. I only had to take one more step to grip his shirtfront in my fist again, crunching his asinine bowtie. “That’s it, you sick fundy. You tell Shumway to give me my fucking business license. Krav Maga is
not
a fucking ‘occult’ practice and you fucking know it, and there’s no set number of licenses you can give out.” I didn’t threaten to make a report to the cops. I knew from Gideon that they didn’t involve cops, especially not out here where the cops were all in the fundy’s back pocket. In fact, I’d been driven off the Cornucopia property and taken into the desert fifteen years ago in a fucking cop car. I trusted them about as much as Gideon and his men did. I was just going to go and hold a knife to Shumway’s throat until he gave me my fucking license.