Club Justice (35 page)

“Because they didn’t give a shit as long as they didn’t have to take care of me.”

“You really are as stupid as you look,” Kramer said, his words slurring. “Try, because Zeke was paying them off under the table.”

Mox snorted.

“If that were the truth, she would’ve liked me a hell of a lot more than the bitch ever did. The whore couldn’t keep track of the number of men she slept with. She had no clue who my sperm donor was. She had what she wanted and was too blind to realize it. Isn’t that ironic?”

Silence fell between them as Kramer struggled to get his alcohol saturated brain to figure a way out and undoubtedly the oaf wallowed in his mommy issues.

“You’re not going to kill me?” he asked, brows drawing together in confusion.

“Not unless you force me to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. As the old saying goes, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kramer fought with the fog. What in the hell was he talking about? Why didn’t he just shoot him?

“I’m going to to admit to raping Ginny Brawer and then you’re just going to walk out of here?”  

‘Right after you eat your gun.”

The words were all the more chilling for the matter-of-fact way the hulking young man said them. There was no question, like it was a foregone conclusion.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Kramer sputtered.

“I don’t know. They took your badge. You’re depressed, drowning your troubles in the bottom of a bottle. Hell, maybe it’s because you finally realized you’re a worthless rat bastard that doesn’t deserve to live. I don’t give a shit why.”

“And if I don’t kill myself?”

“Then I’m going to string you up like the squealing pig you are and castrate you.”

Kramer swallowed hard. Brawer had put his stamp on more than the boy’s looks. The cold glint in Mox’s emotionless stare was a dead ringer for his old man’s. It presented a strong argument for sociopathic tendencies being inheritable.

“What makes you think you will get away with this?”

“Every cop has thought about eating their gun. You’re disgraced. No one likes a rat. They will take the evidence at face value and be thankful it wasn’t them. Besides,” he said with a small smile. “It would be worth it.”

“It would be worth life behind bars, or the death penalty?”

“I owe them everything.”

The simplicity of the statement and the nonchalant shrug said more than an impassioned speech could have. The room spun as his hammering heart made it difficult to breathe.

“I’m kind of hoping you’re as big a coward as I think you are.”

Kramer’s head jerked up at the whispered confession.   

Mox winked at him. Kramer’s stomach rolled. All that was missing was the damn cigar.

“We can work this out. My family has money.”

A deadpan look was all the answer Mox offered.

“I didn’t kill anyone!”

“What you did to Ginny and Zeke was worse.”

“Your loyalty is blinding you! Your precious daddy is a murderer! He shot Randall Porter in cold blood.”

“Porter was a rapist. It was better than he deserved, just like allowing you to blow your head off,” Mox answered, reaching over to open the drawer.

“Allowing me? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

His voice cracked on the question. The Glock hung between them. Sweat trickled down his cheek.

“The choice is yours. Make it.” 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“No. I want to.”

“Killing me won’t erase what happened to Ginny.”

“Maybe not, but you won’t rape another woman.”

“Jesus! I did it, okay? It was sex! Is that worth dying for?”

“Obviously you thought so.”

“Women give it up all the time when they’re not in the mood!”

Shaking his head, Mox set the Glock aside. The knife clicked open easily, light glinting off the wicked blade.

“I’m sorry!” Kramer screamed.

“How’s it hanging, Pig?”

“Please! You’re a man. You understand!”

Mox’s chuckle lacked humor.

“If I had the time I would show you what it feels like to be the bitch. Choose, or I make the choice for you.”

At Kramer’s panicked silence, Mox reached for him.

“I’ll do it! My God, I’ll do it!”

“One wrong move and I promise you will die a slow agonizing death. Your cop buddies will find you with your tiny dick in your mouth and your dildo up your ass. Won’t that look pretty on the eleven o’clock news for mommy and daddy?”

Hands trembling, Kramer fumbled with the gun. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he sent up a prayer.

“Come on now. Open up and take your medicine like a good boy.”

Parting his lips around the barrel, he struggled to breathe. His hands shook so hard, the gun slipped from his mouth.

“Pl—please,” he begged, his words breaking on a sob.

Gloved fingers stroked the sharp blade.

Closing his eyes, he nudged the tip into his soft palate. Fighting the gag reflex, he pulled the trigger.

Chapter Forty-Three

Blinking gritty eyes, Zeke padded through the silent house. Sleep had eluded him. His promise to Ginny churned in his gut, burning the back of his throat. Pouring a cup of coffee, he wondered again how he had survived mornings without a timer on the coffee maker. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he sighed. Staring out the window over the sink, he leaned a hip against the counter. The sun was still hidden below the trees. The heralding orange glow took him back twenty years. The fire that had destroyed Ginny’s family home had been visible for miles. The stately Colonial had been fully engulfed before the fire department received their first call. Despite the rain, the wind had whipped the flames in devilish delight, defying the volunteer’s staunchest efforts until the smoldering fieldstone foundation was all that remained.

He had made promises that night, and Kramer had shattered the most important one. A man protected his woman. The son-of-a-bitch deserved to join her father, Porter and Tyson in hell. She had trusted him on that night so many years ago. Trust was a slippery slope. Once you started to slide, it was difficult to regain your footing.

A movement on the patio cleared away the memories. Mox unfolded from a lounge chair. The ox had been so still Zeke hadn’t noticed him. The first rays played across his broad features, casting them like granite. Something was different about him lately. Gone was the loyal jester and in his place stood a man. Refilling his cup and another, Zeke stepped out onto the patio.

Mox didn’t say anything as he accepted the proffered cup. Silence hung easy between them as they sipped the hot brew.

“Kramer’s dead.”

Zeke sucked in a breath before softly blowing at the tendrils of steam over the rim. His mind whirled.

“How?”

“The rat bastard ate his gun.”

Zeke turned to lock gazes. Mox rolled a shoulder.

“It’s all about choices. He chose the lesser of two evils. It was better than he deserved.”      

Zeke forced down another sip of coffee, processing his son’s words.

“Where?”

“His apartment. He was hitting the bottle. With the suspension and all, the pressure must’ve just gotten to him. He was looking at losing his career. That has to make suicide look pretty good.”

“It happens more often than we like to admit in law enforcement. Done right, no one will question it. Where did you get the piece?”

“It was his. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on it when I showed up. With a little persuasion, he put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger like a good boy,” Mox said with a smirk.

Zeke couldn’t hold back a grin as pride overcame worry for the moment. The ox was a chip off the old block.

“You’re sure you’re clean?”

“As sure as you can ever be.”

Zeke nodded. How many times had he said the same thing?

“Does anyone else know?” he asked. At his son’s negative head shake, he nodded again. The boys had gone downstairs during the endless questioning the night before. “Were the detectives still here when you got back?”

“They were just leaving.”

“It’s shaky, but it’s an alibi. What about your brothers?”

“I locked my bedroom door in case they went looking for me. Rhys was on the phone with the whore. Garrett was in his room with his headset on playing games on-line. Neither saw me leave. Rhys saw me come back in, but I told him I was smoking a cig.”

“What about your vehicle?”

“I rolled my bike down the back alley so no one would hear it fire. Then I borrowed one of the loaner beaters from Handlebars and Hot Rods. Good luck putting out an APB on a white Ford Taurus,” Mox said with a little eye roll.

“You’re smarter than people give you credit for.”

“Don’t let it get around.”

“Why do you always play the joker?”

“It makes people underestimate me,” Mox said with a shrug. “Besides, in case you missed it, there are some pretty intense personalities in our household. A laugh goes a long way in keeping the peace.”

Zeke laughed out loud, surprising even himself. It felt good. Clasping Mox’s hand in a firm handshake, he pulled his son in for a back-thumping hug. Startled, the boy was stiff for a moment, but then returned the embrace. Stepping back, Zeke cupped the back of his neck and looked him in the eye.

“A couple things…First off, thank you,” he said, the intensity of the two words expressing everything he was unable to. “Secondly, I’m proud to have you as my son. And lastly, your mother can’t ever know about this.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Gin you hugged me.”

Shoving him away with another laugh, Zeke said, “Nobody would believe you anyway. Seriously, she would worry herself sick if she knew. You’re her favorite.”

“Whatever. Yeah, okay. The fewer people that know the better,” Mox said, the tops of his ears coloring.

“Does that mean you’re not going to be a Brawer?”

Mox grinned at the tease.

“It’s too late for that. The paperwork went through. I’m now legally Mox Garrett Brawer.”

“Well, it’s not as highbrow as Miles Sampson III, but it has a nice ring to it. I guess I better update all our legal documents.”

“Do I get added to the will?” the brute asked, eyes sparkling.

“You got added to the will a long time ago. Don’t get too excited,” Zeke said at the genuine surprise on the boy’s face. “I plan to spend it all on hot women and Harleys in my old age.”

“You better watch that plural on women. Gin might geld you next time,” Mox mumbled, embarrassed that his joke had fallen flat. 

“Isn’t that the fucking truth? But I will need to update your name on our will, life insurance, and whatever.”

“Do you really think it’s safe to have me as a beneficiary?” Mox asked with his best psychopathic grin.

“I don’t think it is safe to have any of you on there, least of all Gin, but I had to name someone,” Zeke said with an exaggerated sigh. “Come on. Let’s get breakfast going before Gin wakes up or the police come knocking.”

“They don’t want to mess with Gin without her Irish Cream.”

Zeke tossed an arm around Mox’s shoulders and headed for the door.

“You’ve figured out the secret of a happy marriage. If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”