Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (35 page)

“Let him
go!”

“I will break
his fucking arm right now if you don’t drop your guns!”

Shawn cried out
in pain again as I squeezed.

“Do it!” he
moaned. “Do it!”

“But Shawn, I
can …”

Squeeze.

“Drop your
fucking guns!” he bellowed, pleading.

Heavy thumps of
iron hitting wood. Nervous guy faded back against the wall, trying
to hide behind Cathy’s captors. The other guy glowered at me, fear
finally starting to show in his eyes.

My heart
continued racing. Despite the energy surging through me and the
confidence I was portraying deep down in the pit of my belly I was
still terrified. I kept my face angry, my voice harsh. Doing my
best Clint Eastwood impression to keep my composure.

“Let the girl
go.”

Both boys
reluctantly released Cathy’s arms and their grip on her face.
Finger impressions remained on her cheek and her hair was a mess,
making the possessive Neanderthal howl in my guts. For once I used
his rage, giving both young thugs my most impressive stare. They
faded back to the wall along with Nervous Guy.

Cathy stepped
forward tremulously. “Joe?” she questioned, her voice quavering
slightly. She was clearly upset and trying her very best to keep it
in.

“Grab their
guns and get over here.” Cathy’s face blinked at my harsh tone. It
wasn’t for her. I had to keep these guys on edge. Keep them as
scared as I was. “Hurry.”

Cathy reached
down hesitantly, her fingers visibly trembling as she retrieved the
pistols. With her little heeled boots clicking across the wood with
each stride she hurried across the room to stand behind me.

Relief flooded
through me at that point, almost ruining everything as my knees
trembled slightly requiring a firm stomp of each foot to settle
them again. We weren’t clear yet, but things had suddenly become
much more manageable. My heart still raced and my body still
tingled all over, sending the hair on my arms reaching for the sky.
But Cathy was safe behind me and the gang members were weaponless
before me.

Time to get
this over with.

Shawn groaned
in agony again as I pulled upwards on his twisted arm.

“They dropped
their guns! What do you want?”

I kept my
voice as deep and as menacing as I possibly could, ignoring the
growling sensation that began to rumble in my belly next to my
dancing Neanderthal.
Dammit, I can’t be
hungry now
! I used that grumbling and fed it to my
voice.

“Why do you
have pictures of the missing girls?”

“Ugh …”

“Why?” I
rumbled, twisting again.

“They’re our
girls!”

That wasn’t
Shawn. It was Nervous Guy from back against the wall. The other
boys inched away from him, clearly uncomfortable. His former gun
toting partner gave Nervous Guy a filthy glower.

“What do you
mean ‘our girls’?“ Cathy asked from beside me, her voice recovered
and her confidence slowly coming back. Along with her investigative
nature apparently. She gestured towards the punks with one arm,
forgetting she was holding a gun. Everyone flinched at that.

“They’re
ours.” He repeated. Motioning around him. “Our crew.” He looked
around at the others in the room, the ones who would meet his gaze
at any rate. “Our
Posse
.”

That sank in
with me, resonated in my head. I could feel the old, rarely used
hamster wheel beginning to turn in my skull as it processed that
information. More questions from that answer.

Cathy beat me
to it.

“You’re
saying all of the missing women reported are
Native Posse
affiliated?” Her voice was
surprised. And skeptical. “That doesn’t make any sense. There are
dozens of names on that list, some of them aren’t even …” She
stopped herself, an embarrassed look spreading across her
face.

“Indians?”
Shawn spat painfully, her wrist and arm still stuck in my vice grip
and torqued unnaturally. “Is that the word you’re looking for you
bitch-ahhh! Ahhh! Leggo, leggo!!”

I might’ve
ratcheted up the pressure for a moment of sheer spite. I was tired
of these guys and their treatment of Cathy.

She
spared Shawn a disgusted look but nodded reluctantly. “Yes, it’s
true. The women missing are from all walks of life and all age
categories. Successful business types. Mothers. Asian,
European
and
Aboriginal
ancestries.” Cathy shook her head sadly, spreading her gun filled
hands. “There’s been no discernible pattern. That’s been the
frustrating part for the media and the police
obviously.”

“We don’t give
a shit about some white lady or chink ass bitches, all we care
about is our own.” That was Keimac, recovered from his humiliation
somewhat now that Shawn was being agonized. “We care about our own.
Our family. The girls downstairs, they’re our family first.” His
voice broke slightly at that.

Images of
Candace flashed in my brain. At the club. On the wall downstairs.
The paper’s picture of a body being hauled from the river.

Her features,
they looked so much like her brothers.

Goddammit, what
have I gotten myself into?

“So, what’s
going on?” Cathy asked Keimac, though her eyes took in everyone in
the filthy living space. No one met her eyes. Nervous Guy had said
his peace apparently and Shawn was writhing in silent agony under
my grip.

“As if you
don’t know.” There, the second gunman. His face bitter, disgusted.
Filled with undisguised hatred. He pointed a finger directly at me,
his voice venomous. “This big prick works for those pigs. Setting
our girls up as whores.”

Cathy turned to
look at me slowly, her eyes questioning. “Joe?”

I said nothing,
my mind whirling. A thousand different images flashing into my
brain. Old memories suddenly tying together with new information to
create a new picture. A pattern I hadn’t seen. One I had ignored.
Maybe chosen not to see?

“Joe, do you
know what he’s talking about?” Cathy asked, reporter voice in full
inquisition mode. Dimples out again, but not in a happy way.

“He fucking
knows!” Keimac spat, his face twisted. Tears of rage pooled in his
eyes, trailing down in dirty tracks over his dream catcher
tattoo.

“You’re lying,”
I muttered. My brain rejecting what my guts were starting to tell
me.

“Joe?”

“You’re
lying!” I snapped,
Posse
members flinching back at my voice. Shawn cringing again as
my grip spasmed. “You people, you street thugs set some girls up as
hookers or drug mules. Your
own
girls. Your sisters and your cousins. You whored them out on
the streets, don’t deny it now buddy here all but admitted it a few
minutes ago.” Keimac’s teeth snapped shut, swallowing his retort at
my glare. Nervous Guy shuffled his feet, wishing for a hole to
disappear into no doubt.

I glared
around the whole room, including Cathy in my stare. Speaking to her
as much as to the
Posse
members. “There’s a fucking trophy wall in the basement.
Filled with pictures of missing girls, right out of some sick
movie. Looking for all the world like a history of your victims …
And you want to accuse me? My club?”

Was I in
denial? Maybe. But I needed more.

It dawned on me
in that moment. This is why I was here.

“My sister
wasn’t a hooker, we got other bitches for that!” Keimac’s face was
a mess, twisted. Actually thinking he was being coherent. A sad
statement of affairs in this world where people could see people in
different categories other than “people.”

“Everyone knows
them cops’re evil,” the gunman continued, his expression sour.
“Taking advantage of people on the streets who got nothing. Who
done nothing wrong.”

“All high and
mighty, setting up that club. Poaching our girls. Promising them
gifts. Money. Luring rich folks to party, giving them our women to
fuck. To abuse ‘em.” Keimac spat at me.

“And toss ‘em
aside when they’re done.” The gunman’s eyes were afire. “Like
garbage.”

They believed
what they were saying.

Absolutely.

Shit.

Cathy stared at
me, her expression unreadable.

My stomach
rumbled, but not just in hunger anymore.

In disgust.

I made my
decision.

“We’re
leaving.” My voice remained low, deep and menacing. The flood of
energy I was feeling remained strong but I could sense it starting
to fade. Despite the anger and rage I felt, I knew that I was going
to need to refuel with food soon. The gym had taken more out of me
than I had planned and I was starting to ache all over.

“I’m gonna kill
you, you get that?” Keimac’s eyes bored into me, his hands
twitching. As if my neck was between them. “For my sister. For what
you did.”

I stared him
down, my mind a whirl of emotions. Flashes in my head. Memories.
Pieces sliding together. My brain on fire as my flesh tingled all
over.

“You tried that
once,” I told him quietly. Decisivly. “Don’t try it again.”

Keimac’s red
rimmed eyes bored a hole to the back of my head. “You killed my
sister!” he spat, flecks literally spraying from his lips.

That felt like
a kick to the balls.

I wasn’t sure
he was wrong.

With a
last wrench I released Shawn’s wrist and shoved him hard to the
floor where he collapsed with a loud thudding sound. I’d probably
killed this guy too, or at least his chance at keeping a leadership
role within the
Native Posse
;
which likely amounted to the same thing in their world. But I
couldn’t worry about that. My priority was getting Cathy out
safely.

The remaining
five men stared at me as I stood over their former front man. Full
on alpha male, jungle book style domination was what I was going
for. By and large it was working. With a gentle hand I took Cathy’s
arm and directed her to the door. She went along with the motion
her eyes still unreadable, and searching constantly around the
room. Her acquired pistols clutched tightly in each hand.

I stared down
each person in that room, using my most vicious glower. Nervous Guy
and the two kids wouldn’t meet my eyes. The second gunman stared at
me defiantly but unarmed wasn’t about to make a move. Shawn just
lay on the floor holding his damaged hand tight to his chest.

I turned on my
heel and headed for the door.

On my way out I
stopped in front of Keimac, looking at him sideways over my
shoulder. I took in his expression of hatred. His absolute belief
in how he understood the situation.

Belief is a
dangerous thing.

Tears flowed
down his young face. Rage. Sorrow. A lost soul dealt a shit hand in
life like the rest of these people now facing even more
tragedy.

“Kill you.” He
whispered, his voice broken. “I’ll kill you.”

It broke my
heart. An emotion I never thought I’d feel for the man who fired
three slugs into my chest.

I turned and
walked out the door, my knees trembling the whole way back to the
Windstar.

Chapter
33

We drove in
silence.

My mind was
whirling and my limbs still trembled slightly, the adrenaline crash
hitting me like a wave. It took everything I had to concentrate on
driving safely, piloting my rusty baby the easy way back to the TV
station down Main Street. My heart was beating way too fast,
keeping pace with the thoughts in my head.

Cathy sat next
to me in the passenger seat. Silent. Stoic. Rubbing at her face and
neck where she’d been gripped. My guts twisted as she did that,
that over-protective part of me furious with myself for letting her
come with me in the first place.

Images
rushed through my brain. The faces on the wall. Matching them up to
girls I’d seen at
Cowboy
Shotz
. Not all of them were a match, but Candace and
that other one – Sherilyn - for certain. Possibly two more. My
brain felt like it was sparkling with energy as I scoured over my
thoughts, trying to make sense of what had happened
tonight.

And trying to
come to terms with how badly things had nearly gone.

God …
Mom.
I almost left you all alone
again.

I shook my
head, clearing the images as best I could. Needing to focus on the
road and ignore the gnawing hunger growing in my belly.

“How could you
do this, Joe?”

I froze at her
tone. Guilt hammered at me like a linebacker.

“What?”

“How,” Cathy
repeated. Her tone cold and angry. “How could you do this?”