Club Justice (30 page)

“Now I know you need some sleep,” Bowie said, pushing back from the desk. “We can sit here all fucking night and not get any closer to the answer. Go be with Gin. She needs you.”

Zeke stood and enfolded Bowie in a back-thumping hug.

“Thanks for having my back, brother.” 

“Never doubt it.”

  Ginny curled in the crook of Zeke’s arm, head resting on his shoulder. His warmth and bulk were comforting, as always. The chilling rage banked in his pale eyes tonight had brought back memories. It was a fury she had seen only a handful of times in their twenty years, and one she didn’t want to question. He hadn’t said a word when he joined her, merely opening his arms in invitation when she snuggled close. She could tell by his breathing that he was still awake. Likewise, she knew she wasn’t fooling him any, and yet neither addressed the elephant in the room.

  She rubbed her face against his chest, the healing bruises itching. She wondered if his silence had to do with her or tonight’s marathon meeting. Besides his outburst when she had told him about Tyson, he had been treating her with kid gloves. As nice as it was to have all four of her men jump to fulfill her every need, it wasn’t natural. She was getting restless. How many times over the past four months or so had she wished for the return of normalcy? She wasn’t sure she remembered what that was.

The summer was a blur of chaos. Looking back, only their ride down through the mountains had escaped the turmoil that had rocked their extended family since right before Memorial Day. She felt guilty that she and Garrett hadn’t found the time to get away for a weekend, just the two of them. His fourteenth birthday was one more thing that had passed without much fanfare in the bedlam. Though her freezers and pantry told the tale, she didn’t even remember working in, let alone harvesting, her garden this year, and generally she got a lot of joy out of puttering in the soil. What else had she missed in the madness?

Thanksgiving was coming up next month and then Christmas. She lived for the holidays, and as crazy as it sounded, it was doubly important to her this year that her family have a memorable season for the right reasons. By now she usually had at least a handful of gifts bought and ideas in place for the rest. She smothered a yawn and made a mental note to start her lists tomorrow. It was time to stop wallowing and take her life back.

Ginny eyed her reflection in the mirror. At least the majority of the swelling had gone down. The handful of cuts were still angry and scarlet, and the bruises were fading to an attractive yellow-green. Running a fingertip over the old scar on her left cheek, she wondered how many of the new marks would stay.

“I can promise you that he won’t hurt you again,” Zeke said softly from the doorway.

His emphasis on the word he and the bitterness in his tone spoke volumes. Guilt was eating at Zeke. He took great pride in providing for and protecting his family. The break-in and attack was in a way just as much a violation for him. Above all else that had happened of late; her rape had rocked him to the core. He felt like he had failed as a protector, failed her. They had been through some tough times together, a lot of them in the past months. This time she didn’t know how to fix things. She bit her lip.

“Was it Tyson?”

Zeke looked old as he dropped his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No.”

A chill shook her, and she fought to keep her voice steady.

“We’re sure?”

“He denied it to his last breath. I’m sure.”

Ginny’s hand trembled on her concealer. She closed her fingers around the small container to still the tremble.

“One down, one to go,” she said lightly.

“I will get him.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

She turned at the strain in his voice.

“You’ve never failed me before. Why would you now?”

His eyes searched her face with the desperation of a man lost. Ginny kept her gaze steady, only standing when she saw the light of belief creeping into those blue slits. She wrapped her arms up around his neck and brushed her lips over his.

“I love you.”

A small smile tugged at his lips and he leaned his forehead to rest against hers.

“I love you too, baby. Believe me when I tell you that the bastard that did this to you is going to pay dearly.”

“I believe,” she whispered.

She heard him swallow hard in the silence and he nodded against her. Playfully rubbing noses, he stepped back and gestured to her vanity.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. I’m just tired of being cooped up and I have a lot of things to do.”

“Like what? You need to take it easy.”

Ignoring his protests, she sat back down and continued with her makeup.

“I want to check on the progress at The Lantern. Canned pumpkin and several of the baking staples I will need for the holidays are on special this week, so I want to pick up groceries. A couple books I put on hold at the library are ready for pick up, and Bridget called yesterday and she is done with the comforter I ordered already.”

“That was quick.”

“I know. She’s such a sweetheart.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Did you hear where I was going?” Ginny asked, arching an amused brow at him in the mirror.

“I heard.”

Ginny smiled at his defensive snap and shook her head.

“Tempting, but I won’t torture you.”

He shuffled his feet and sighed, wanting to say more, but she spared him the misery.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to have to face them sooner or later. Hell, the way things have been going, I’m getting used to the stares.”

Ginny kicked at the early fall leaves on the library steps. Autumn, with its vibrant colors and crisp breeze was her favorite time of year. Tucking her weekly allotment of smut into her bag, she hurried across the street, raising a hand at a friendly horn toot. Tilting her head back, she relished the wind in her face. She was glad she had decided to park at the grocery store and walk to her other errands. She made a mental note to talk the old man into taking the Harley out for a spin tonight.

Rounding the corner, she caught her breath at the sight of The Lantern. She was amazed at the construction crew’s progress. Things had really taken shape in the week since she had last seen it. The contractor had said that they would be finished by the end of November. She had tasked a local craftsman with building her a bar worthy of an upscale Irish pub. The kitchen appliances, cookware, dishes, and all the various utensils were on order. All of her venders had assured her that with a weeks’ notice they could have her back on their route. If everything went smoothly, they would be back in business by the first week in December.

Stepping back, she snapped a couple shots with her phone to show Zeke.  On impulse, she emailed them to Kat with a little smiley face and a cyber squeal, before dropping her phone in her purse and heading for the grocery.

“There are just some things that makeup can’t fix.”

Ginny closed her eyes. She was really beginning to hate the grocery store.

“I’m afraid your kind of ugly goes bone deep, Flo,” she muttered, without turning.

“Cute. Too bad your husband doesn’t share your opinion on my beauty. With you out of commission, he’s been more than appreciative.”

The English Muffins bore the brunt of Ginny’s ire, crumbling in her grip. Reining in her temper, she resisted the urge to pelt Flo with the breakfast treats and tossed a second package in the cart.

“I have to say having things out in the open is making Zeke and mine’s relationship so much stronger. He’s so proud to be able to publicly acknowledge our son. I’m surprised at the way you’re just plodding on like everything is peachy keen. I don’t think I would be taking it nearly as well.”

Ginny sat the egg carton back down and turned to face her nemesis with a little shake of her head and a chilling smile.

“You really are a delusional bitch. Let’s get a couple things straight, shall we? There is no you and Zeke. By your own admission, you climbed on top of him after he passed out and helped yourself. It is probably a blessing he has no memory of it because the thought of fucking you makes him physically ill. Secondly, if you would’ve had any clue that Mox was Zeke’s son, you would’ve played that trump card day one, not twenty years later. We took Mox into our home and hearts long before there was a legal reason to. We did it because of who he is, not who his sperm donor is. That said, let me see if I can make this clear to you.” Ginny’s hand shot out and wrapped around Flo’s scrawny throat as she closed the distance between them, pinning the older woman to the cooler. Her nails dug into the jugular and she leaned close to whisper, “You’re going to leave my family alone. You’re going to stay away from my husband and you’re going to stop hurting Mox. I have to hand it to you. You know how to twist words to your will. Your poisonous whispers almost worked at the hog roast. If you try your venomous bullshit with Mox again, I will rip your fucking throat out. Do you understand me?” 

Flo’s fake talons clawed ineffectively at the back of Ginny’s cropped leather jacket. Her watery eyes darted around franticly, searching for a savior. Ginny’s nails gouged deeper. She waited, her gaze uncompromising. Flo gasped, her face purpling.

“I’m not fucking with you, Flo. You better kick that peroxide saturated brain into gear and wise up. Do we have an understanding?”

Flo nodded feebly and Ginny released her hold. Hitting her knees in the isle, the brash floozy fought to draw air into her lungs. Tears troughed trails down her painted face as she coughed violently. Reaching around her, Ginny picked up two dozen eggs. Placing them in the cart, she reached down to pat Flo’s cheek in farewell.

“I’m glad we had this little talk. I feel a lot better.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

The plastic ink-pen flexed dangerously under the intensity of his grip. He wanted to snap the old bat’s neck. Gritting his teeth, he counted backward from a hundred and tried again.

“I don’t think that you understand the danger you’re in, Miriam.”

“Don’t you mean the danger that my son is in, Detective?” Miriam asked. Her gentle voice held a bit of steel.

“Zeke Brawer told police that he suspects your son, Tyson, of beating and raping his wife. Do you think that he is above using you to find your son?”

“I appreciate your concern, but it is misplaced. Zeke would never harm me.”

Stupid, naïve, old bitch!
Kramer struggled for control.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“I’ve known Zeke his entire life. I sold hot applesauce donuts to him just yesterday morning. They are his and Ginny’s favorite. If he wanted to talk to me about Tyson, he had the opportunity.”

The muscle under his right eye twitched. It was time to take off the kid gloves.

“Are you aware that when Zeke kicked your son out of the Lords of Mayhem MC, he threatened to kill him if he ever returned to Trinity Falls?”

“I know there was an ugly falling-out between the boys. Tyson was sweet on Ginny and Zeke had already staked his claim. From what I understand, Tyson pressed his suit with her and she rebuffed him. I’m afraid my son didn’t take it well and struck Ginny, scarring her cheek. Zeke was understandably furious. What was said between them when they parted ways, I can’t tell you.” 

“Pressed his suit? That’s a rather quaint term for attempted rape.”

Miriam paled and her lips pressed into a firm line. Her hand shook as she set her coffee cup on the table.

“I wasn’t there. I don’t know all the details.”

“Why do you suppose Ginny Kennedy didn’t file charges?”

“I suppose she felt Zeke handled it.”

“If you don’t tell me how to get a hold of Tyson, Zeke Brawer will handle it again. This time, Tyson might not survive it.” 

“Perhaps you are hard of hearing, Detective. I told you at the start of our conversation that I don’t know where my son is.”

“Zeke Brawer is a murderer. He killed Bill Kennedy and set the fire to cover his tracks. His partner, who had agreed to work with us to put Brawer away, was found with a bullet in his head. Brawer killed him to silence him. Do you think he will hesitate to kill Tyson? If you refuse to help us, we can’t protect him. His death will be on your hands.”

“And if you refuse to listen, I will ask you to leave. If I wanted to be bullied by a child playing at being a man, Tyson would still be living here.”

Kramer’s hand closed in the front of Miriam’s blouse. The sound of rending fabric broke the air. Pearl buttons skittered across the polished hardwood as he yanked her forward across the coffee table. She cried out as a hurricane lamp shattered, slicking the floor with oil.

“You listen here, mommy dearest. I am getting damn sick of this town protecting Zeke Brawer and his merry band of hoodlums. If it is fear holding your tongue, I think you better consider who you’re dealing with,” Kramer snarled, his breath fanning Miriam’s face.

Tears and something like resignation filled her eyes. She shook her head.

“I honestly don’t know where my son is. He calls when he wants money. I refused to give him any this time and he came to visit,” she said, bitterly gesturing to her bruised cheek. “Are you going to add to his handiwork?”

“When you are sniveling over your son’s casket, you remember this conversation.”

Miriam’s legs collapsed as Kramer released his hold. She crumbled. Pushing up off the coffee table, she eased onto the sofa, clutching at the front of her blouse. She bit her bottom lip to still the tremble as the irate officer glared. Gathering her dignity, she stood and walked to the phone. Swiping a hand over his thinning hair, he snatched up his folder and stormed out of the parlor. She flinched as the door’s glass cracked at the fury of his leaving.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The door flew open without so much as a token knock.

“Jesus Christ, Brawer! Why do I even have a door?” Donovan groused.