Razor's Edge (Afflictions) (33 page)

                            Forty

Morgan

Speeding down a deserted dirt road somewhere out in the boonies, all I can think about is getting Ben back. We have to get to him before that ass-wipe hurts him. We switched out Bebe’s Bug for my Hummer. No way were the three of us fitting in that sardine can. I finally got a hold of Wiley and he’s game, although he still thinks we should’ve told the cops. He’s in the back drumming his fingers on the window. Tryst is sitting next to me, quiet, and calculating. He’s the one who came up with the plan.

The pinks and purples streaking the horizon taunt me. Even though it promises to be a sunny day, a dark cloud hangs over my mood, threatening rain with this shit storm I’m about to roll up on. Gary’s had Ben for a little over six hours now. If I don’t come back, my baby girl will be fatherless, but I can’t abandon Ben. There is no right answer here. I just have to make sure I don’t end up with a bullet implant.

“Stop!”

I slam on the breaks and my Hummer kicks rocks from the rear fenders. Too busy thinking about the problem, I didn’t watch where I was going. I put it in gear and pull off the road.

“This is the spot.” Tryst opens his door and Wiley does, too.

They say a few things to each other and nod, then Tryst vanishes into the forest. 

I think this is a stupid plan. We should go in guns ready. There’s more intimidation in numbers, but Tryst insisted we split up. He is the ex-marine, and he has a good point:
Someone has to extract the target and get him to safety.
I look out the window at Wiley. He used to run track in middle school, but does he still have what it takes? Is he strong enough to run with a kid hanging off his back?

He comes up to my window and nods.

I roll it down.

He looks back at the thick expanse of woods. The brush is dense and he’s dressed appropriately. If you call a
camo Five-Finger Death Punch concert shirt camouflage. He’s frickin swimming in it ‘cause it’s mine. The bags under his eyes are a little darker than they were yesterday. He’s been sitting in a waiting room all night and it shows.

“About an eighth of a mile up, you’ll come to a driveway on the right. That’s where the cabin is. Don’t do anything stupid, wait for Tryst’s signal.” He slaps the side of my Hummer. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

He nods and disappears into the foliage, going the way Tryst did a moment ago. Before we came here, Wiley Map
Quested the directions. They know the route they are going to take through the woods that will spit them out right at the cabin. I still have an uneasy feeling, but my need to rescue my son overrides it.

I start the engine and pull back onto the road. In a few short minutes I spot the drive and pull in. There’s a beat-up pickup and a shiny new Harley parked by a three-car garage. Was
Bebe wrong? Does Gary have back up?
Good thing I brought mine.

I kill the engine and check the
Glock in my waistband, then step out of the Hummer. The second I do, a door on the small log cabin, next to the garage, opens.

Gary comes out, the barrel of his big-ass shotgun pointed at me. “Stop right there.”

I halt.

It fucking burns to listen to him, but idiocy is Logan’s thing, not mine. I raise my hands and tilt my head toward his gun. “This is the negotiation you were talking about?”

“The one that ends with you in my new nine-foot deep barbecue pit out back?” He steps closer. “That depends on how much you’re willing to sacrifice to live.” He points the shotgun at my chest, my shoulder, my face, then to my dick, and back to my chest again.

Sweat drips down the side of my face and along the nape of my neck. The hard knocks of my heart bang out an indiscernible rhythm. Forget the bullet implant. Ten feet away is enough to open a window through my chest.

He laughs, than places the barrel on his shoulder. “I think you owe me twenty grand.”

Slowly, I lower my hands.

Gary repositions his gun and points it at my hip. “Toss your gun. You try anything, I’ll shoot your hand off.”

I do it. And damn, I threw too far—it lands about thirty feet away.

“Good.” Gary puts the butt end of his twelve gauge on the ground and leans against the barrel like it’s a goddamn crutch. Cause that’s what it is to him. He can’t fight me man to man, has to bring a weapon into it.
Pussy.
The only reason I brought my mine is because I knew he’d have one.

He glares at me. “You owe me twenty grand.”

I have to keep him distracted long enough for Wiley to get Ben away. “Thought it was ten.”

“Yeah, well. The way I look at it, you owe me a late fee.”

“That’s a hell of a late fee.”

He shrugs. “I have a partner to pay.”

“I don’t have that kind of cash.”

He laughs. “That’s right. You shot most of it up your arm.”

How in the hell did he know that? Rictor. That fuck-bag. “Yeah, so I don’t have the money.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” He grins.

Now I see what Shay’s talking about. His evil smirk should be trademarked. Douche bag must think he’s the Joker or something. He thinks it’s funny that he’s ruining our lives. My fists shake with the urge to pound the look off his face.

“I could cut you a deal.” He picks up his gun and pumps the chamber. “I really want to kill you. Paid some guys to dig the pit yesterday, but…you’re ten grand a month that I don’t want to
lose. Stay away from Shay and I’ll cut the extra.”

This shit’s almost laugh-worthy. Instead, rage coils in the pit of my stomach and vibrates up through my body. “I’ll pay the ten grand, but Shay’s mine. I’m not backing off. Ten grand is better than nothing.” Not giving this fucker any of my cash flow. Like I’m
gonna let this asshole ruin Shay and Ben’s lives.

Movement catches the corner of my eye, but I can’t look or Gary will follow my gaze. I catch a quick flash of
camo before it disappears through the front door of the cabin.
Wiley
. I smother my grin and focus on Gary talking about why I should pay the twenty K.

A series of loud bangs comes from the house. The front door bursts open and a dude, looking like something between a gorilla and a bear drags Wiley’s body down the steps and over the dirt. He’s out cold. Gary turns toward them.

I go for my gun.

Cool metal to my temple forces me to stop.
Fuck! I was so close
. I stare at it, ten feet away, just on the edge of the woods. Where the hell is Tryst? My chest heaves, fists clench. I’m not leaving here without my son.

Gary digs the barrel in a little further. “On your knees.”

I comply. The guy next to Gary is grinning a bright gold grill. That’s his partner? He drops Wiley next to me.

Wiley groans.

“I’m going to kill you, motherfucker,” Gary says. “I’ll sell that porn Shay made and make her do more. You know she will. She did it before. She has two kids to protect and support now. Killing you will give her incentive.”

My heart speeds up and my chest constricts. A blast rings out and I slam my eyes closed. But there’s no pain.

“What the fuck!” Gary shouts.

I peel open my eyes.

Gorilla-bear-dude is staring at me. Eyes blank and a hole in the middle of his forehead. The blood leaks out and a red river flows toward my knees.

Gary scans the forest, but keeps that death barrel locked to my temples. “You brought back up.”

“Think I’m stupid?”

Wiley groans and pushes himself up.

Gary turns the gun on Wiley.

I dive for mine.

“Grab that gun, I’ll blow your friend’s head off.”

I pause, hands hovering over it. My breath quickens.

Gary pins me with a glare.

Wiley slaps the barrel of the shotgun away from him and the gun goes off. He jumps to his feet and kicks Gary in the knees. The asshole falls to the ground with a loud thud.

The shotgun goes off again.

Wiley kicks the gun out of his hand.

Gary goes to stand.

I kick him in the ribs and knock the air from his lungs.

He wheezes.

Everything this asshole has done to my woman, to Ben, all the fury I’ve had building inside bursts free. I’m on him.

“You abused Shay.” My fist plows into his jaw.

“You raped her.” He tries to block my right fist, but my left one makes contact. The crack of his nose is gratifying.

My chest heaves. Adrenaline and rage race through me. “Kidnapped Ben.” Fists fly one after another. He tries to block them with one arm, his other fumbling for his gun.

He won’t get the chance to use it. 

Wiley crushes Gary’s searching hand to the gravel with his shit-stomper boots.

I roll off him and grab my
Glock. This asshole will never leave us alone. He’ll always be there with his threats. Not gonna give him the chance. I hold my gun in my shaking hand. The fury over what he’s done to my family boils inside as I point the barrel at Gary’s head.

“Don’t do it, man.” Wiley raises his hands. “This fucker isn’t worth doing time over.”

Tryst emerges from the woods with his sniper rifle over his shoulder and a buck knife in hand.

Gary squirms, his swollen eyes trying to go wide. “I swear I wasn’t going to kill anyone. I just wanted to scare you.”

I bend down and press my gun to his temple.

His body shakes.

That’s right fucker.
I should blow a hole in his dome. This asshole’s never going to quit coming after my family.

Wiley takes the shotgun from him and backs up. “Don’t do it,
Morg.”

I nod toward the cabin. “Go get Ben.”

Wiley nods back. “I’ll call the cops. He’ll get arrested. You don’t have to go to jail.”

“No. You won’t.” Tryst drops his rifle on the ground and moves behind Gary. “This cocksucker knows too many guys. Don’t think he won’t make my cousin’s life miserable from behind bars.”

“You’re going to kill him?” Wiley’s voice rises an octave. “Are you crazy, man?”

“I’ll do it.” He hurt Shay and I want to pull the trigger.

“You got a family.” Tryst’s hand lands on my shoulder. “How ’bout you leave the killing up to the professional? I got this.”

I lock eyes with Tryst. The cold murderous stare sends chills through me. I know it’s not meant for me. And Fuck-bag is going to get schooled in what it’s like to cross Tryst. He’s right. I have a family to take care of.

Gary squirms under my gun and his fists rise.

Tryst plows his into Gary’s neck.

Gary breath leaves him on a whoosh.

I stand and kick Gary one last time in the stomach. I turn to Tryst. “There’s supposedly a bonfire pit out back. Let me know if you need help with the body.”

Tryst gets behind Gary and pulls his body. Gary scuffles with him, kicking his leg and arms, shouting all sorts of threats. Tryst pulls out a buck knife and presses it to Gary’s throat.

Gary stills. “Don’t do this.” He’s crying and pisses his pants. “I won’t come after—”

“Shut… your… mouth.” Tryst growls. Then glances at me. “Don’t need help with the body. Thanks anyway.”

“You guys can’t be serious.” Wiley’s eyes are huge. “You’re talking murder here.”

“Yeah, listen to—”

Tryst nicks Gary’s throat.

Gary shuts up.

“We’re not killing anyone.” I wrap an arm around Wiley’s shoulder. “We’re getting Ben.”

As far as I’m concerned, Tryst is right. Gary’s partner might be dead, but the River Rats are a huge gang. Don’t need those bikers coming after my family. If Tryst kills him and we burn and bury the bodies, their gang won’t know what happened to him. He was kidnapping Ben. For all they know, Gary could’ve fled. And that’s exactly what I’ll be telling the cops.

We head into the cabin, but before we enter, Gary screams and begs for his life. It’s cut short by gurgling.

Wiley stops. He looks back. “Holy shit!”

I pull him through the door.

“Tryst just sliced his—”

“Shut up.” I glance around the busted up living room. Furniture overturned, glass broken, but no sign of Ben. There are two doors off to the right side and a door to the left. “Let’s split up and find Ben.”

It takes Wiley a moment to answer. His face is a pale green. “Uh…yeah. Right.” He nods and takes a deep breath, then opens the door on the left.

Sasha screams, her face bloody and barely recognizable. Damn, they messed her up good.

Wiley sticks out his hand.

She stares at it, then looks up and notices me. “Where are Gary and Big T?”

“They fled.” There are too many people as it is who know what really happened to them.