Resonance (Marauders #4) (17 page)

When Tommy wasn’t terrified of his interest being misinterpreted, he liked Eliza, though. She was one of those people who was always about to laugh, and she had an amazing sense of humor. The dry, smart humor that all the Baxters seemed to share.

“Naw, no feminist revolution. They’re thinking about doing some war play. Not sure what it was,” Brick answered. “Told her to talk to Tommy. Hope that was okay.”

“Don’t pretend like you care what he thinks about it,” Dawg laughed. “You were way too eager to get her off your back.”

“I can’t fucking sit in front of her theater group and talk about advance anti-tank weapons and war,” Brick said. “Officially, we’re motorcycle enthusiasts, so I figured it was better to send in Tommy. Besides, they’ll think he’s hot, so it won’t be as scary as if I tell them what it looks like when you blow a man’s head off.”

“Think your daughter might need new friends if that’s what they’ll ask,” Tommy muttered. “I got a date for the surgery. Next Tuesday.”

“Finally some good news,” Brick smiled. “And you’re out of commission for four to six weeks?”

“If we’re unlucky. Might be less.”

As good as it felt to have a date for it and that Felix had a good chance at getting well, it didn’t feel good to be out of service with the club. They were all on edge, and had been for a really long time, since what they were doing should send ripples through the underworld, someone should react, but so far there had been nothing. Brick didn’t take that as a good sign, quite the opposite. If other clubs had come forward to either congratulate them or argue about what they’re doing, it would’ve been a lot better than the dead silence surrounding them now. Silence meant plotting. In this case probably plotting against them.

Tommy was scared the attack would come when he was at the hospital and unable to help—either the club or Billie.

“You need to take your time and heal,” Brick said. “You’re no fucking use to us if you cause yourself permanent damage. Or worse damage than you’ve already got.”

The injuries he’d sustained when Zach died had been pretty bad. He’d gone to physical therapy for years, but mostly to keep it in control. Long rides still fucked up his shoulder, but he kept it in check by working out. The leg hurt sometimes, but nothing he couldn’t handle, and it was as strong as the other one. To some extent, he was in better physical shape than he’d ever been. He didn’t have the same stamina and flexibility he’d had as a Recon Sniper, but he had more muscles. Some of the others, mostly Sisco, had teased him about all his training, but others had started joining in—like Bucket. In Bucket’s case it had initially been more about getting his mind off his shitty home situation, but he’d kept it up, and these days he was as addicted to it as Tommy was. Tommy did it to make sure the damage he’d caused his body wouldn’t cripple him.

“Where are we with the Ghouls?” Tommy asked.

“US or Dutch?”

“The Dutch. Do we know when they’re coming?”

A few of the members of the Dutch Ghouls were to be smuggled into the country. The smuggling part mostly to make sure that the US Ghouls didn’t know they were coming. All they’d known so far was that they were on their way. The cartel would get them over the border, and since Brick was the one who was in contact with the cartel, they would be coming to Greenville first. Tommy was hoping that they’d arrive before Tuesday, and he was in luck.

“Sunday. We have church on Friday to prepare. I think it’s mostly to show us respect for what we’ve accomplished so far, but it’s also to let us know what they have planned.”

“Don’t we already know that?” Tommy asked.

“I’m more interested if they have a timeline for this,” Bear said. “We need time to make the club stable. We can slap a patch on a bunch of guys and call them brothers until we’re blue, but that won’t make any fucking difference if they don’t stay loyal once fucktards starts shooting at us.”

The conversation halted for a second when Mitch came out on the porch and sat down, but after a nod to him, Brick continued.

“We’ll find out what they’re here for, and hopefully what they have planned,” Brick said. “No point in speculating. We’ll find out soon enough.”

“If they’re coming now, when they know we’re not finished, they’d have to be stupid fucks to start up some shit,” Dawg said and turned to Tommy with smile. “They’re not stupid, so I’d say you can do the surgery and be back in business by the time shit gets started.”

Sounded nice to Tommy. If shit was going down, which he believed they would be, he wanted to be there. His main use in the club was as a soldier, and besides the time when he used his sniper skills to save Mitch’s old lady, he hadn’t had the opportunity to really show his worth. It would really suck if he was out of action when he had the chance.

“Don’t sweat it,” Brick chuckled, as if he could read Tommy’s mind. “You’ll get your chance. You’ll see fighting before this is done.”

Mitch looked at him, too. “Do you remember your first big battle?”

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded. “Everyone does.”

“Like the first time you fucked,” Mitch said with a big smile. Obviously reminiscing that moment in his life. “Everyone remembers that.”

“I don’t. Or… I might,” he said.

“Might?” Bear asked with a raised eyebrow. “Drunk?”

“Yeah. If it was the time I was drunk, I don’t remember. Otherwise I might. I fucked that girl the week after, so I know
who
popped my cherry, at least.”

It was kind of embarrassing, neither of them had been sure if they’d had sex or not. They both remembered making out, but not the actual sex.

“That sucks,” Mitch said.

“I don’t know,” Tommy smiled. “Might not know the first time I had sex, but I remember the first time I wiped my own ass.”

There was a deafening silence for a few seconds before the others all started laughing. It was true.

“First time you wiped your own ass?” Bear laughed.

“Yeah. I was five or six. Mom was sleeping and I went to the bathroom.” His mom had been more or less unstable already at that time, and waking her up from her morning nap was perfectly possible, but something that should be avoided as far as possible. But Tommy’d had to go, so he went, and he’d wiped his own ass. He’d been so proud afterwards, which was probably why he remembered it as well as he did. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

“Very true,” Bear chuckled. “At least you remember one important first. Two with the first big fight.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Show Us

~oOo~

LEAVING MILITARY LIFE FOR a civilian one had not been a smooth transition for Tommy. It wasn’t just the injuries or missing his friend. It was leaving a life full of routines, clear orders, a clear chain of command, and most of the friends he’d ever made.

Getting out had been like being slapped in the face by reality.

He’d been completely lost for a while, and shortly after Zach’s funeral, he’d gone up to live with his brother, Dwayne. He’d just needed somewhere to land, a place where he could figure out what he wanted to do. Once his leg was healed and his shoulder was working okay, he’d bought a Harley, and he’d spent six months fixing it. To some extent, he’d been fixing his bike while he was fixing his own head.

A lot of things were a big fucking mystery to Tommy, but engines were not one of them. There wasn’t an engine or machine built and destroyed that he couldn’t fix or just make better. That was why he’d ended up as first driver in the convoy with Zach next to him. When shit wasn’t working, and there was a lot of shit that wasn’t working, he could fix it. Marines make do.

While he’d been working on his bike, he took a job at a garage, but as soon as the Harley was rolling, he took off. He didn’t really have a plan. He’d ended up in Greenville and took a job at the Marauders’ garage. That was how he’d become a hang-around, and later a member, of the club. When asked if he wanted to prospect, he hadn’t hesitated for a second. It was the first place he’d felt like he belonged since leaving the Marines.

Being a military kid, packing up and leaving people behind was something he’d done his entire life, and he didn’t mind much. He’d never been rooted, and the only constant outside his family had been the Jensens. In a way the Marauders had been his new Jensens, a constant he knew he’d have there no matter what happened, and he wanted Billie incorporated in his new family. He didn’t want them separated.

He’d managed to convince Billie to spend the Friday night before the surgery at the club with him, because he wanted one night, the full night, with her before the surgery. He’d mentioned it to the others, and some of them had talked to their old ladies, so Mel, Kathleen, and Anna would be there, too. It would make it a little easier for Billie, Tommy hoped. He wouldn’t want her accompanied by nothing but sweetbutts and hang-arounds while she waited for him. That wasn’t a good way to introduce her to parties at the clubhouse.

Tommy’s thoughts about Billie made him even less present during church, but in all honesty, there wasn’t much being said that hadn’t already been said at least five times before. This was a part of the club business that he was getting increasingly tired of: the endless repetition of information they all had heard at least ten times before with just a smidge of new information added to it. Smoking used to make him less annoyed about the repeats, but he couldn’t smoke anymore. He’d figured it was a good time to stop completely, but if the excruciatingly boring meetings were going to continue after the surgery, he would definitely pick up smoking again.

“I have some thoughts about it, but I’d like to hear what you want said or clarified by the Dutch when they arrive,” Brick said.

“I want it really fucking clear that we’re not going to become Ghouls, or any other patch they might come up with when they detach from them,” Mace muttered. “I know we’ve said it to them, but I don’t think that can be emphasized enough. I’m not patching over.”

There were some nods around the table.

“I wanna know how informed the cartel is, and if they’re planning on pitching in,” Sisco said. “This is the kind of situation where it would be awesome if the fact that we’re working with a cartel paid out.”

“The Dutch are currently providing the cartel with weapons, so I don’t think they want them gone, and I doubt they’ll want to deal with the US Ghouls any more than we do,” Brick answered Sisco. “I’m sure they can get weapons even without the Dutch, but so far they’re really fucking pleased with what they’re getting, so I think they’ll help however they can. Probably not directly, but indirectly.”

“Wouldn’t that depend on who the US Ghouls are working with on the other side of the border?” Mitch asked. “Would it be worth starting a war over?”

“That’s a good point,” Bear said. “The cartels are allied to left and right. I’m not sure they know who their friends and enemies are at any given moment.”

“Probably depends on what friend they need the most,” Mac said. “So we should get that cleared.”

“I got the impression the cartel was pretty stoked on the idea of the Dutch leaving the US branch behind. Did I get that wrong?” Bucket asked and looked at the ones who were usually more informed.

“Yeah.”

That made Tommy think of something. “So, at the moment we’re the ones transporting the cartel cargo from them and up to New York for transport to Holland, and the US Ghouls are transporting the cartel’s weapons from Portland and down to them. After the break, we’re transporting stuff mainly up to Portland and they’re not going to work with the US Ghouls anymore?”

“That would be right,” Brick answered with a smile. “I see what you’re getting at.”

“We’re gonna transport the weapons?” Tommy flat out asked.

“They haven’t asked us yet.”

“And if they do?”

“Club vote,” Bear answered.

“All charters?” Sisco asked.

“At least the charters involved.”

Tommy didn’t exactly have a moral problem with muling weapons. Given the quantities of pot they were transporting at the moment, they’d probably simply repack the trucks with weapons instead of pot. It would mean cargo both up to Portland and back, which he assumed was more efficient and more money, but it also meant double the risk.

“Wouldn’t this mean that the charters who are currently in our pipeline would be cut out?” Dawg asked.

“Not completely. If we increase the rides and the volumes we’re gonna need to spread out the risks,” Brick answered. “It might mean less work for them, but we’re going to try to work something out. Financially, it probably won’t make much of a difference for them.”

A few years earlier, there had been complaints from charters in the pipeline that they weren’t getting big enough cuts. The complaints had died down when it turned out that one of the treasurers had been skimming money. It was Hump, the member who later kidnapped Anna, since he thought it was Mitch’s fault that he was caught and thrown out of the club. The entire situation and the aftermath had been an efficient lid on all complaints from other charters, but Tommy had a feeling it might start up again if their cuts became even smaller. That could become really nasty if they went into a war and not all the other clubs were loyal enough to stand by them. But if he’d thought of that, he knew for a fact that Brick and Bear had, too.

“Why Portland, Oregon?” Mace asked. “Isn’t New York is bigger?”

“That’s where they have their contacts,” Bear answered. “And I think they’re very interested in Asia. It’s a big market, which makes the Port of Portland attractive. Something else that I suspect, but they haven’t confirmed, is that it’s also an airport. I think they want to make use of that.”

“But if they want stuff to Holland, that’s a really fucking stupid place to ship it from,” Sisco said.

“That’s not our problem,” Brick said. “They want it there, that’s where we’ll deliver it to. What happens with it once we’ve delivered isn’t my problem. But,” he added with a smile, and the others started laughing.

“He keeps saying that, doesn’t he?” Mitch laughed. “That it’s not his problem, but he still thinks about it.”

“I like to keep my ass covered,” Brick agreed. “I think they’re more interested in what they can smuggle into the US that way, and that’s why they’ve established contacts there. I’m pretty sure they’ll set up something on the East Coast, too. Whatever they want to Europe would have to go that way.”

In all honesty, Tommy wasn’t too bothered with the ‘whys.’ He understood that Brick had to think about it, but it didn’t matter to him. That didn’t mean some things didn’t strike him, though.

“Think you can ask them to set shit up in Miami or something?” Dawg muttered. “Shorter runs means less risk.”

“I’ll try to suggest it,” Brick answered with a smirk.

“Don’t you think it’s more that they want us where the Ghouls have been? There might be other reasons than just a pipeline up to a fucking port,” Tommy said, and the others stared at him. “Just a thought. That’s kind of basic warfare, taking over the areas where the enemy have been and keeping an eye on them even after you’ve invaded. To make sure they stay put.”

“Probably,” Brick agreed. “Gotta admit, if shit goes down the way they want it to, I’d be pretty fucking happy to have eyes in those areas, too.”

~oOo~

TOMMY HAD ASSURED ME that Mel, Anna, and Kathleen would be at the clubhouse. I didn’t know Kathleen very well—I didn’t know the others that well either, but better than I knew Kathleen—but I knew who she was. Dad was a Republican, and he’d had a celebratory glass of whiskey when she was fired from a Washington newspaper. I’d read a few of the articles she’d written since then, and I thought they were good. I’d avoided mentioning them to Dad initially, but by then Dad didn’t care about her much. He’d liked her articles about rape in warfare, though.

When I walked into the clubhouse, I dearly hoped one of the other women were there, because I didn’t see anyone else I recognized. There were a lot of lightly dressed women with too much makeup and guys who were blatantly checking me out. It definitely didn’t have the family-feel it had been the first time I’d been at the clubhouse. Just when I was about to turn around and walk out and wait in my car, a woman came up to me.

“Hi, my name is Sandra. Can I help you?”

She had dark, long hair, a very short skirt, a see-through top, and a nice smile. The see-though top was a bit… odd on her, despite the environment, since she had a girl-next-door thing going. Really pretty, really innocent, but with a see-through top. The nice smile made me decide that she might not ask me in a mocking way, and possibly would help me.

“I’m looking for Mel,” I said.

“I had a feeling you were Billie,” she said. “Mel’s in the back room. I think she’s arguing with Eliza on the phone, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“I won’t,” I agreed.

“She told me to look after you and make sure none of these guys get any ideas.”

“Thank you. They are…”

“Horny, mostly, but sometimes the horniness knocks out the sense and they don’t use their eyes. I mean, just looking at you would tell them you’re no sweetbutt.”

“Sweetbutt?”

“Nickname for the girls who’re hanging out here for a good time.”

I didn’t think I needed any clarification of what ‘a good time’ meant, and if I’d been unsure, all I had to do was look around in the room.

“Okay,” I said instead. I’d obviously noticed those girls before, but there were a lot more of them than last time, and they were more aggressively sexy this time around. “So you’re…?”

“Unofficial head sweetbutt,” Sandra answered. “I’m also club mama at the strip club.”

I didn’t know what that was either, but I thought I’d made my ignorance blatant enough for one night, and just shut up. But she must’ve noticed because she continued.

“I sort of take care of the girls. We don’t really have a club mama at the moment, so I’ve taken up some of the responsibilities, but I still dance, too.”

“Of course,” I said, and then I shook my head. “I’m sorry if I come off as… judgmental.”

“Don’t worry.” She waved with her hand dismissively. “You haven’t even called me whore of Satan yet, and that’s what my dad would call me if we were still talking, so we’re fine. What’s your poison?”

“Beer. A beer would be great.”

She put a hand on her hip and looked at me. “Should I just get you two so you can down the first and sip the second?”

“If I were a man, I would’ve kissed you for that.”

I talked to Sandra for a while, and she seemed pretty okay—once I got over being able to see her nipples at all times. Mel came about a ten minutes later, and by then I was starting to relax. The downed beer probably helped.

“Thank you, Sandra,” she said. Once Sandra had left she turned to me. “Don’t let her behavior fool you. She’s okay, but most of the sweetbutts are cunts, and the only reason they don’t claw your eyes out with their long fake nails is that they know what our old men would do to them.”

“Oookay.”

“Crazy bitches, the lot of them. But all that said, no one in here would dare to lay a hand on you. If for no other reason that Tommy can beat any one of them into a pulp in the ring.”

I was kind of grateful that I actually had some understand of what ‘the ring’ was. We had similar set-ups in the Navy. Not for beating people into a pulp, but some differences were better settled with fists than with words. It was for practice, too.

“Think I’ll try to stay away from them even so.”

“Sandra is okay. Sometimes I think she’s still hoping to become an old lady, but she keeps betting on the wrong horse. Other times I have no idea what she’s doing here. She’s… too smart and… I don’t know. Not really interesting, I guess.” She smiled. “But in general, I’d say you can trust her to tell the truth.”