Club Justice (8 page)

“You have a smart fucking mouth and someone needs to teach you how to talk to a man,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

“If there was a man standing in front of me I would take that under advisement. In the absence of one, get the hell out.”

Somehow, the distinctive ratchet of a pump-action shot-gun managed to filter through the haze of his rage. He met Sambo’s serious gaze across the bar.

“You are making a big mistake. I’m a cop,” he ground out.

“Don’t tempt me, pig.”

“He has no love lost for bullies hiding behind the badge,” Ginny whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

“Nor do I,” a firm voice said behind him. “You’ve been asked to leave.”

Kramer looked the deputy up and down with thinly veiled contempt.

“You are out of your league, Barney Fife.”

“And you are out of your jurisdiction.”

Dragging his eyes from the earnest young deputy, Kramer caught sight of Zeke leaning just inside the door. The men flanking him looked to be barely out of their teens, but wore the Lord’s colors easily. 

“No Neanderthal displays to defend and impress your lippy old lady?”

Zeke’s impenetrable mask didn’t falter at the jibe. 

“So this is what it has come to, Brawer, hiding behind a woman’s skirts, kids, and local LEOs?” Kramer asked with a mocking headshake. “I expected better.”

“I’m here, Kramer. What is it you want?”

“Your balls on a platter.”

“Too bad I don’t swing that way.”

Gritting his teeth at the laughter Brawer’s comment drew; he glanced around noting new arrivals from the back, all prominently displaying their club allegiance. At some point Ginny Brawer had moved out of the line of fire, and was now watching from a safe distance.

“Calling in the Calvary?”

“It’s dinner time,” Zeke replied with an insolent shrug of one shoulder.

“I will handle this, Zeke,” the deputy said tightly.

“Then handle it, Marchand.”

“The owner of this establishment has asked you to leave. Either you do so or I will run you in for public nuisance and interrupting a place of business.”

“Technically it was the wife of the owner that asked me to leave.”

“Even if Ginny’s name wasn’t on the business, if you spent any time in Trinity you would know her word is as good as his.”

“A regular rose among the thorns,” Kramer scoffed, shooting the smug bitch a look. “She must be something to command such devotion from the troops, Brawer.”

“Long live the Queen,” Crux murmured with a saucy wink in Ginny’s direction.

“Do you pass her around on a regular basis? Is this a perk of the club, or is it considered a special reward to get to fuck the president’s piece?” he taunted drawing an immediate reaction from the young man to Zeke’s right. The kid charged forward, a murderous glint in his eyes.

Stepping between them, the deputy raised a hand in warning.

“Rhys …” He didn’t look back when he spoke to Kramer again. “It is up to you, detective, easy way or …”

“Are you threatening me?” Kramer spat.

Marchand reached for his handcuffs.  

“What’s wrong kid? Haven’t made your bones and got a shot at the broad yet?” 

Zeke grabbed the boy as he went for his weapon. He didn’t say a word. Tension crackled in the bar as matching blue eyes clashed. Jerking his arm away from his father’s grip, Rhys pointed a finger at Kramer.

“You keep running your mouth about my ma, and I will gut you right here in front of bar, God, and country.”

Kramer grunted, a smart-assed retort dying on his lips as he found himself spun around and forced face down over a table.

“You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you want to get out of here without a bullet in you, I strongly suggest you exercise that right,” the deputy muttered sarcastically. Hauling the handcuffed man up, he headed toward the door droning the remainder of the Miranda the asshole surely knew.  His stomach churned spotting Mox blocking the door. Having had his run-ins with the brute on the football field, he was in no hurry to test the big man’s brawling skills. He breathed a sigh of relief and sent up a silent thank you when Mox merely held the door open. Outside, Marchand paused awkwardly. “I will be back to pay for dinner, Ginny,” he called.

“Consider it on the house, Officer,” Ginny answered, good humor lacing her tone and putting a sparkle in her eyes.

Kramer ground his teeth together watching her step docilely under Zeke’s brawny arm raised in invitation. His forearm curved under his wife’s chin in a loose chokehold and she tilted her face up to accept his kiss. The bitch went from cougar to kitten with her husband. The light played off faint scar tissue. Brawer’s file said they had been married for twenty years. Kramer smirked wondering what year the big man had busted his wife’s cheekbone open, and if that had been the blow that had cowed her.

Zeke leaned back in his chair at the head of the table as the waitress removed the scarce remains of dinner. Twirling a toothpick between his fingers, he pondered Kramer’s visit. The sawed off son-of-a-bitch was like a rat terrier, relentless. Ginny’s laughter drew his attention and he smiled watching her wrestle with Kat over possession of an origami crown Sambo had fashioned for their queen. Kat tossed it to Amber, instigating a boisterous game of keep away. Kramer hadn’t cared for Ginny’s sassy spunk, but the guys loved her for it and though few believed it, she knew when to rein it in.

“He’s going to keep chafing at your ass until you crush him, bro,” Bowie rumbled beside him, eyes on the women’s play.

“As many enemies as the rat bastard has made, I think you would be surprised at how few of them would have the balls necessary to put him in his place. That would track to my door pretty damn easy,” Zeke mused.

“So, we get an outsider to do the job, making damn sure to have an air tight alibi,” Crux offered. Sambo nodded, his amber eyes glowing eerily in the flame of his ever present Zippo.

Not a man at the table wavered as Zeke mulled over the tempting solution, but in the end he shook his head.

“Every time he comes up empty he discredits himself. After a while, his accusations start to look like the ranting of a whack job reading conspiracy theories into the puzzle on the back of cereal boxes. For now we wait him out.”

Setting The Lantern’s alarm, Ginny slid onto the big hog and wrapped her arms around her old man. A little thrill went through her as the Harley roared to life. Handling the bike as an extension of his body, Zeke let it roll out smoothly before accelerating. The thrum of pure power went straight to her core. Pressing close to his broad back, Ginny closed her eyes and lost herself in the freedom she loved so much. Feeling her need, Zeke opened it up as they hit the edge of town. She smiled as they left the suburbs behind and climbed into the rural hills. Hurtling through the night, they took the sweeping curves at breakneck speeds. Ginny tossed her head back. The wind whipped through her hair and scoured her skin.

Zeke let the Harley roll to a stop on the overlook. The lights of Trinity were faint in the distance and at the moment so were his troubles. There was nothing like a ride to clear a man’s mind and put shit in perspective. It had been a ballsy move on Kramer’s part to come into Trinity. The tenacity the asshole showed would have been admirable under different circumstances. He stroked Ginny’s hand pressed against his ribs. Lacing his fingers through hers, his thumb flicked over the stone of her wedding band. So many things had changed in twenty odd years, and yet there were those that never would.

“You want me to give my ol’ lady PLATES for our twentieth anniversary?” Zeke spat in disgust, lip curling. With everything going on and it being a major anniversary, he had thought to get Ginny something nice and he didn’t think plates were going to cut it. 

“Not plates, sir, fine china,” the sales clerk corrected. His condescending smile faded as the Zeke stepped closer, lowering his shades to level a lethal stare. 

“Keep running your lips, kid, and I will knock all your pearly whites right out of that smart mouth.” 

Swallowing hard, the younger man retreated a couple steps, reaching up to tug on his collar. The menace the leather clad gentleman radiated didn’t dissipate with distance and he struggled to come up with a suggestion that might make this man’s “ol’ lady” happy. 

“While china is the traditional twentieth anniversary gift, platinum is the modern choice. Perhaps your wife would appreciate something along that vein. For something in-between traditional and modern we have platinum accented stemware, bowls, or keepsake boxes. Our platinum roses are classy and a bit more unusual, or if your wife enjoys something with a little more sparkle, platinum jewelry could be a hit,” a soft voice suggested. 

Both men turned to look at the elegant woman, but Zeke was already nodding.

“Platinum is more Ginny’s style and God knows she likes shit that sparkles.”

“Perhaps Vivian can be of more assistance to you then,” the clerk suggested, smoothly bowing out of the situation and disappearing. 

“Twenty years already. It hardly seems possible, Zeke.”

“Surprised she has put up with me this long?”

“I didn’t think any woman would tie Zeke Brawer down.”

“Maybe it has lasted this long because she doesn’t try to tie me down.” 

“Maybe that goes both ways.”

“I’ve always loved Ginny just the way she is. I’d never ask her to be someone she isn’t.”

“You were the first.”

“And you know what they say about a girl’s first.” Zeke smirked with an eyebrow waggle. 

“I meant the first person who didn’t try and change her, but if rumors are true, you subscribed to the get them young and train them right school of thought.”

“She was sixteen.”

“And you were a twenty year old Marine home on leave.”

“What can I say? Women love a man in uniform.”

“And does she still love that leather vest?”

“With all her heart.”

“Then she’s a better woman than I.”

“At least better for me.” 

“Enough reminiscing. Let’s see what we can find that might make Virginia happy after twenty years of blissful matrimony,” Vivian suggested leading her former classmate towards the jewelry counter. 

“Ginny…she really hates Virginia,” Zeke corrected. 

“Ginny it is then.”

Thirty minutes later, and several grand poorer, Zeke exited the store and straddled his Harley. Patting his vest, he made sure the ring was secure in the inside pocket. He and Ginny had married young. The simple gemmed band he had slipped on her finger as they repeated their vows had cost him fifty bucks at a pawn shop. He had sprung for nicer jewelry over the years, but the fact that his wife treated that original band with the same care as the crown jewels wasn’t lost on him. It was about time he put something a little more worthy on her finger.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself from sappy musings. Jesus, if the guys found out what he had spent he would never hear the end of it. Firing the Fat Boy, he headed home to stash the ring. 

Leaning on the bar, Ginny listened to the lunchtime bullshit and banter, her hazel gaze occasionally wandering to the door on the lookout for her husband. He had mentioned he had to run an errand today, but missing lunch wasn’t like him. 

“So what’re you guys doing for your anniversary this weekend?” Kat asked, sliding another burger basket across the bar. 

“Eh, maybe dinner out. I don’t know. Zeke doesn’t get real sentimental about shit, you know. Just another Hallmark holiday to him,” Ginny said with a wave of dismissal. 

Kat snorted. 

“Like Valentine’s Day, just another excuse to get laid.”

“Like Zeke needs an excuse.” 

“It’s been what, twenty years? Don’t tell me you two still screw,” one of the guys called.

“Like bunnies,” Ginny smirked, throwing a towel at chuckling naysayer. 

“Seriously, Ma, I’m trying to eat,” Rhys pleaded drawing a laugh from the rest of the bar.

“Your mom is one hot MILF. What she sees in your dad’s ugly mug is beyond me. Now if …” the young man’s words were cut short by the unexpected clamp of Zeke’s hand on the back of his neck.

“
If
…what?”

The lawyer paled at the forced civility in the big man’s voice. 

“I was just saying, uh…if Ginny ever needed a lawyer I would be happy to…uh…represent her.” 

“Represent her,” Zeke deadpanned. 

“In case she was ever in need…”

“Of a divorce attorney?” Zeke supplied. At the flustered man’s silence, Zeke offered…“A boy toy?”

As difficult as it was to shake his head with Zeke’s big paw on the back of his neck, the frightened man managed to adamantly. 

“How about
if
you’re done with your lunch you leave my lovely wife a nice tip and head back to your office to dig your wingtip out of your mouth before I put my boot up your ass?”

Nodding in frantic agreement the attorney tossed a twenty on the bar stuttering, “Keep the change.” and brushed past Zeke for the door. 

“Might want to change your panties when you get back to the office,” Taz suggested, holding the door open. 

“You’re chasing off my customers,” Ginny said in mock exasperation, hands on her hips.

“He left a fifty percent tip.” Zeke shrugged, reaching over the bar to grab a towel. Wiping off the vacated stool he took a seat tapping his puckered lips in invitation.

Shaking her head Ginny leaned across to give her burly hubby a kiss with a muttered,

“Beast.”

“Can a man get fed around here?”

“Half a pound of Angus and a couple potatoes coming up, stud,” Ginny said disappearing into the kitchen with a roll of her eyes.

“And what are you doing letting some suit on a fucking stick call your mother a MILF?” Zeke asked, cuffing his nineteen-year-old son in the back of the head.

“I was going to take care of it,” Rhys muttered around a bite of burger.

“When? When you got done eating?”

The guys laughed as Rhys shrugged off his father’s harassment, cheeks coloring, and talk turned to other things.