Perfectly Bad: a bad boy romance (40 page)

Only Bogart and Hacker perched at the bar with Rusty passing them shots. A call came on Hacker’s cellphone and he stepped outside to take it.

Came back in after a few minutes and said to Bogart, “That was Jake. The
Muertos
want to talk.”

Bogart didn’t look up from his shot glass. “Shame they didn’t have anything to say yesterday. Could have saved a lot of mayhem.”

Hacker got a beer from Rusty, took a sip and sat alongside Bogart, “He said that Butcher shot three of his men.”

Bogart said, “Mm.” Without any obvious interest.

Hacker told him, “He shot them with a grenade launcher, Bogart.”

“Mm.” Bogart said again. “His manners are pretty challenging.”

Hacker began, “At least having him around has quietened the...” but Bogart held up a hand. He knew that Hacker was going to say ‘Vikings,’ and he didn’t want the slightest risk of one of the Vikings hearing it or hearing about it. A war inside the clubhouse as well as the one outside would have been way over the line.
 

Everyone was uncomfortable at leaving the enforcing in Butcher’s hands, but the vote was unanimous, and they were going to follow Bogart’s plan. All the way to its end.

Twenty minutes later, they heard the truck engine climb the slope outside and Butcher returned. He stomped up to the clubhouse and across the barroom floor, and he looked at Bogart on the way. Bogart looked over the tops of his shades at the big man.
 

Butcher reached around the bar and took a fresh bottle of Jack, then climbed the stairs to his room. Angelica looked at Bogart. Drew a breath and her face tensed momentarily. Then she picked up a clutch bag and went upstairs, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Much later, in the dead of night, Bogart was still in the clubhouse, sat at a table with an almost empty bourbon bottle at his elbow. Rusty was with him at the table. A few other bikers slept on couches or in the softer, fraying chairs.
 

Butcher came down the stairs heavily, one of his backpacks over his shoulder. He passed Bogart a look on his way out to the truck. The engine coughed into life, and then faded as Butcher drove away down the hill. Bogart checked his watch.

About ten minutes later Angelica came down the stairs. Looked around the clubroom. Saw Bogart was awake and asked him, “You know where Beanie is, American?”

Slip Kid

From inside the car I made a call on my cellphone. As soon as I got an answer I said, “Hi, it’s me. Listen, don’t say anything, don’t speak, okay? I need you to meet me, right away. You know that place we’ve been, at the edge of town? Don’t say anything, just make a sound to tell me that you know where I mean.” a grunt came from the phone, “Can you meet me there in forty-five minutes, it’s really important, okay? Will you do it?” Another grunt. I hung up.

The dark sedan stayed way behind me as I made my way across town. I parked right by the metal entrance door of the neat little diner. There was almost no-one there at that time in the afternoon. I took a booth in the window, ordered coffee and I waited.

Sure enough, as I nursed my coffee, I watched as the dark sedan pulled slowly into the far side of the parking lot, and it was soon joined by another car just like it. From that distance, I could just make out a red bob of hair.

Daddy showed up, out of uniform and in his private car. When he slid into the booth opposite me he said, “So, what’s this all about, baby doll? What’s with all the cloak and dagger and the, ‘don’t say anything.’?” I was about to tell him when the dragon lady from the FBI slammed her hand on the side of the table and pushed her badge in Daddy’s face.
 

Tall and wiry in her charcoal pant suit, a white shirt open way too far, she seemed thrilled breathless by her mantra, “Special agent Heaver, FBI. Put your hands on the table where I can see them.” She leaned over the table at him and Daddy gave her a long dry look as he laid his palms on the table top. “Show me some ID, and tell me the purpose of your meeting here.” I knew Daddy would have great timing, but I couldn’t wait. I said,

“Oh, haven’t you been introduced to my daddy? You would probably know him as police chief Ballmer.”
 

Daddy said, “Have you been harassing my little girl, Heaver? Because if you have, there’s a report going straight up the line to my old army buddy, Section Chief Fullerton.”

Heaver’s green eyes widened and her face twitched as Daddy went on, “Tell me, is Sam Fullerton your boss’s boss or is he your boss’s
boss’s
boss? The case will be of particular interest to him, since he is Nicoletta’s godfather.”

Agent Heaver sagged as Daddy said, “Now, would you like some coffee while you tell us what it was that you wanted to know?” Heaver mumbled and flustered as she backed away from the table and almost ran out of the diner.

Daddy and I both waved through the diner window as she stomped all the way across the parking lot.

Down in the Hole

Bogart took the call from Jake. Hacker got up to leave him in privacy, but Bogart waved him to stay.

Into the phone, Bogart said, “Yeah, Jake... Well, what can I tell you. You fucked up the deal. I gave you a chance to make it right, you didn’t do it. Yup... No, Jake, you have to get me what I need. Then I’ll call it off.”
 

There was a pause, “How do you get out with it? Jake, that isn’t my problem. This is your fault, not mine. Yup... uh–huh... Yeah, you get me what I need, it stops right away.” Another pause. “Yeah, he’s a real vicious bastard, ain’t he?” and Bogart hung up.

He said to Hacker. “He’s got it. Says he can’t get here with it unless we call Butcher off.”

Hacker said, “Shame.”

Bogart said, “Really.”

Half a spliff later, Bogart’s phone rang again. He picked it up and listened a moment and said, “Uh–huh. Good,” and he hung up again. Bogart looked at Hacker, “Seems he thought of a way.”

Hacker said, “Like he just remembered where he had fifty K stashed.”

Bogart said, “Mmm–hm.” They both took a sip of bourbon.

Ten minutes later, Bogart went out back and collected a large, heavy backpack. He told Hacker, “Jake shows, check what he brings. Double count it, then call me.”

Bogart and Hacker gripped hands and bro-hugged. As Bogart was turning, Hacker put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Stay safe,” Bogart went out and climbed onto his bike. The engine crackled into life and carried him away down the hill.

Bad Company

I waited in the sad little motel room, sat on the bed by the bathroom with the TV on loud. Why Snori and Trols would have believed me, I couldn’t think, but it seemed as though they did.

Beanie told them to come and that I would be there, ready and waiting for them. I couldn’t have told it to them myself. I didn’t know if I could go through with any of this, either. I didn’t know if I could, but I knew that I had to and I knew that I would.

And I knew that if Cox ever found out, he would probably kill me.

The knock came at the door and my heart dropped. I said, “It’s open,” and Snori and Trols walked in, grinning as they saw me, sat on the bed. They came and loomed over me, taking up all the air in the room and standing between me and the big, flimsy closet. The closet that Beanie came out of with a gun in each hand.

He put the guns to the backs of both of their heads and said, “Kneel.”

I produced the nine millimeter and told them, “Hands high.” As they knelt I could see the guns in Beanie’s hands both shaking.

That was the plan, for Beanie to come out behind them from the closet. The only reason that I had a gun at all was that I was too scared to do it without one. Daddy had taught me since I was little how to handle guns. I was a biblical slayer of beer bottles and tin cans.
 

Silhouette targets didn’t have a prayer around me, but I never pointed a weapon at anything with a pulse before, much less fired one.

And it wasn’t the plan now. The plan now was to confront them, to find out the truth about Cap and take appropriate action. Beanie and I had discussed how that would be.

The two men knelt and Beanie’s voice trembled as he said, “Turn to Jesus, motherfuckers, do it now. Cause no-one else is going to give a fuck about you.”

Snori said, “Did I hear that before somewhere?”

Beanie told him, “Probably when your mama called.”

Trols moved fast to grab that awful blade, but kneeling down, he couldn’t pull it out in time. By reflex alone I’d squeezed on the trigger and fired into the middle of his forehead, and moved the gun onto Snori. He was turning and had his hand on a revolver, so I let another shot out into his temple.

It was over before I even knew it was happening and as soon as the second shot was out of the gun, I had to run for the bathroom. The world went white and spun horribly, and I sank to my knees, missing the john and blasting the oatmeal walls with vomit.