Rising (13 page)

“We both know I ain’t going do that. If I don’t do anything else, I plan to take that bastard Isaac with me.” Riley moved toward the door. “Make sure Savannah gets home and keep an eye on her place. Isaac is a vengeful fuck. I started the process, it’s up to you to move the NWW in the direction I set. All we’ve become is a bunch of thugs and drug dealers. "

“I don’t like this, brother.” Bubba pressed his lips together in a firm line.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m the boss.” Riley paused at the door. “Keep an eye on Bobby Jack for me, too.”

“Riley!” Savannah yelled out.

****

He hesitated at the top of the stairs. Savannah rushed past his friends and stopped in front of him, reaching out to take his hand. “Don’t go.”

Riley’s touch was butterfly-soft as he skimmed his fingers across her cheek. His chest tightened with the knowledge of what he had to do. Beyond the patio doors stood two of the three men he trusted with his life. He believed their loyalty would extend to Savannah and Bobby Jack.

“Please don’t do this.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re all I want.

“Sweetness.” He couldn’t bring himself to add any more words. There was nothing to say that would ease their pain. Gently he caressed her cheek and shook his head. Maybe they would get it right in another lifetime.

“I can’t…” She clutched his hand, holding it against her face. Tears followed the lines of his fingers. “I won’t.”

“We don’t have a choice. What’s done is done.” He yanked his palm free and made a fist at his side to keep from touching her. “I won’t be able to do what needs to be done if I’m thinking about you.” He swallowed. “No one can touch what we started. For a while, you gave me hope.” He stepped back.

“No!” Her guttural scream tore through his spirit.

“Yes. Bubba can be trusted. I won’t ask you not to forget me, but know, Sweetness, even as I’m drawing my last fucking breath, I will not forget you.” He spun around and trotted down the stairs.

He refused to look back as he crossed the yard to his truck. Angry, hollow footsteps thudded across the wood. Bubba’s voice reached his ears as he opened his truck door.

“Listen! Listen. You can’t go with Riley, no one can go where he is going.” Bubba’s tone was strained.

Riley climbed into the cab.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch. If you won’t help him, damn it, I will!”

Riley slammed his door and started his vehicle. He glanced in his rearview mirror and smiled. Savannah had marched up and was yelling into his buddy’s face.

Riley snorted. “Give ’em hell, baby.” He pressed his foot on the gas and his truck went faster. The tires kicked up red clay dust, blotting out the image of his Sweetness fighting. He twisted the knob on his radio and classic rock filled the cab.

He had a few things to take care of before he met his uncle. Riley spun the wheel to take a sharp turn down a little-used dirt road. It circled the lake and he needed a quiet place to read the letter his Aunt Elizabeth left him so many years ago. He parked under a tree close to the water. Spanish moss hung down from branches overhead, and mescaline vines clung to tree trunk.

He yanked the envelope free from his pocket and stared at it slowly, turning it over in his palm. In his mind, he could see Aunt Elizabeth’s face during happier times before she took ill. Her black-eyed peas with homemade butter rolls were the best. He didn’t know another soul alive that could cook like her. Her banana pudding won awards at the county fair. Softly, he traced the handwritten letters that spelled out his name on the paper.

His uncle was crazy, but Aunt Lizzie kept the old fool grounded. Isaac didn’t truly go off the deep end until she died. There wasn’t much he could do for his kin now, except put him down like a rabid animal.

Carefully he slid his finger along the edge to release the glue and remove the sheets of folded paper. He could almost see his aunt sitting under the old oak tree writing the letter, her rich, dark hair gleaming in the dappled sunlight.

My Dearest Boy,

You are turning into such an amazing man. Ursula did a fine job in raising you. I wish I could say I had a hand in helping with that. If you’re reading this, then my time in this world is over and I hope you don’t mind, but I need you to take care of a few things I didn’t have time to handle. I’m getting ahead of myself. So let me clarify some things.

Seventeen years ago, I was molested. For a long time I had no clue who did it, but after living a majority of these years with Isaac, I now have a good idea why it happened and who it was that attacked me. Son, you were the result of that assault and even though I never harbored any ill feelings toward you or your grandparents, my ma and pa thought it best if I went to live with Ursula until you were born. I know I’m talking in circles, but I have so much to say and not enough time to get everything down.

A month early, you came into this world fighting, fist clutching your cord, screaming at the top of your lungs and I knew in a glance you were a fighter. I should have known then, you were the one child I wouldn’t have to worry about. Watching you grow up from afar was a painful choice. Not because I didn’t want you, but because I wasn’t sure how you would be received as a bastard child from a whore mother. Make no mistake, son, those would be the words people would whisper about us. So I prayed and waited for the day when you and I could sit and have a long talk while sipping sweet tea. Sadly, I fear that day will never come.

After Ursula passed, I wasn’t going to leave you adrift with no place to call home. By then, I had been married to Isaac for some years. I held out on his proposal for a few years, but rumors swirled, resentments grew and I just couldn’t live with my parents anymore. Isaac provided a way out and I carved out a life with a man that could be sweeter than pie one minute and a damn monster the next. Over the years, I could see your face in his, and I knew what he’d done. It tore me up inside, and I realized I couldn’t hate the man that gave me you.

He is slowly becoming a bitter man, because of all the things he wanted to accomplish, not one grand scheme has worked out. We live hand-to-mouth and will probably always do so. What saddens me is that he is so bent on trying to overcome his past mistakes that he can’t see the beauty of you and Bobby Jack. The two of you are the best of us. You are the man Isaac should have been. Bobby Jack isn’t prepared to deal with your father, but I believe you are, and if it ever comes down to protecting your brother—listen to me carefully, son—then do what needs to be done.

I left you a bit of cash, not much but what I could squirrel away. Hopefully, it will help you get your brother away from Isaac and his kin. So many days I look back and wish I hadn’t married into a family of assholes. But then I wouldn’t have Bobby Jack, and where you are your father’s son, your brother is my boy through and through. I probably should have shot the bastard—my husband—in his sleep instead of having to ask you to clean up a mess I left.

I’ve included information about our family and little antidotes I’ve learned to appreciate as I’ve gotten older. I wanted you to know a little about me and Isaac before he went bat shit crazy. Sorry for the language, son, but there really isn’t any other way to describe the man. I wish I could see you grow into the man I suspect you will be and know that if you ever need me, no matter this world or the next, I am there.

Your mother, Lizzie.

Riley stared at the crumpled paper in his hands a long time.

The letter confirmed what he had long suspected; Isaac was his father and Bobby Jack was his brother. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Like his mama said, do what needed to be done.

He lifted his head and started to put his vehicle in gear. A crew would be waiting for his arrival at the old barn on his uncle’s property, and there was no way in hell he was just going to let a bunch of grown men beat on his ass. He shifted gears and drove his pickup onto the main road.

His cell buzzed; he checked the ID and dismissed the call. Talking to Savannah was a distraction he couldn’t afford.

He pulled into the parking lot of the Dollar Store and picked up his phone. Removing the back, he yanked the battery free.

Now he could focus.

Chapter Twelve

Isaac’s trailer was dark as Riley drove past it. He continued on the faint path that led to an old barn at the edge of his property.

Nothing had really changed on the old man’s land. Derelict vehicles littered the place, rusted-out tractors, cars, and there was even a pontoon boat somewhere around there. This had once been a thriving farm until old man Isaiah passed away. Some of the property had been bequeathed to the Klan, so white people would have a safe place to interact away from the ever-changing world. It was usually where the cross burnings and rallies were held.

He parked his pickup and exited the truck.

Riley opened the suicide door and rummaged through the items he’d picked up at the boatyard. He wrapped his hand around a steel pipe and laid it on the seat. The hefty piece of lumber that had been in his truck since they beat that guy from the Dollar Store up with it peeked from under the passenger seat. He gripped it, yanked it out, and threw it on the seat. As he reached for the items, he snaked an arm across the console and picked up the knife he kept in the center bin. After stuffing it in his pocket, he snatched up the other makeshift weapons and slammed the doors.

“I swear Isaac has no sense of creativity.” Bobby Jack ambled from behind the tail gate.

“Get the fuck out of here, Bobby Jack.” Riley cocked a brow. The steel pipe was cool against his palm. “What the hell you doing here anyway?”

“Pretty little blackbird with a dazzling smile whispered in my ear… Anyway, blood in, blood out, cousin.” Bobby Jack snorted. “Or should I call you
brother
. Talk about shit getting weird.” He shook his head. “We leave this motherfucker together.” Bobby Jack pulled a blade from his pocket.

“Leave, dumb ass, while there is still time for you to go.” Riley shoved his kin’s shoulder. “I’ll handle this.”

“You ain’t doing it alone.”

“They will kill you, Bobby Jack. Makes no sense for both of us to die.” Riley choked on the words; he'd never begged a man before, but he was ready to drop to his knees to keep his brother safe. “I chose my path, I’ll accept the consequences.”

“You didn’t have a damn choice!” Bobby yelled. “Bastards are coming for you. I ain’t letting them beat you to death without sending a few of them to hell first.”

“Now, ain’t this cute.” Isaac shouted from the mouth of the barn. “I always took you two for pussies.” Men lined up behind his uncle, disappearing into the shadowed interior. “There is only one way out of the brotherhood. I guess you’re both ready to die. At least I didn’t have to go looking for you, Bobby Jack.”

“Fight me alone, Isaac. I bet we’ll see who the real man is,” Riley bellowed. “I don’t fear the reaper. Do you? If it’s my time, ol’ son, don’t think I ain’t taking you with me.” He started walking toward the old structure, with Bobby Jack close behind.

He swirled around. “No turning back now.”

Bobby Jack gazed through the open barn doors. “This bullshit has to end sometime. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I’m tired, Riley.”

“Stay close. The first thing they will try to do is separate us.” He handed Bobby Jack the pipe and pulled the knife free of his pocket, opening it up.

“You called for this Banishment!” Isaac disappeared into the dark interior. “Be a man and accept your death. You’re an embarrassment to the white nation,” he called out from the building.

“They will try and blitz us. The moment you see movement, start swinging.” Riley exhaled and rolled his shoulders.

“You act like you’ve done this before,” Bobby Jack joked.

“I have created a few Wrecking Crews in my time. Blood is on my hands. I can’t change that.” Riley stalked toward the barn.

“In a situation like this, I believe Whit would say, it’s a start.” Bobby Jack chuckled. “So how creeped out are you that Isaac is your daddy?”

“I’ll tell you if we make it out alive,” Riley grumbled as he focused on the deeper shadows moving within the structure. It was time to accept his fate
.

Aunt Lizzie—Mama—I hope you’re watching ’cause I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep protecting Bobby Jack
.

“One more thing,
brother
, Isaac is mine.” Riley sprinted into the building.

“Ah hell, Riley, you said we could flip for him.” Bobby Jack ran in behind him. “Dibs on Clay and Andy, then!”

Camping lanterns were placed at strategic points in the barn. The light was dim enough that he couldn’t be sure exactly how many men occupied the space. Fists came at him and he ducked, swinging an arm up and connecting with a doughy body. Close enough to see the man in front of him, he raised a leg and planted a foot in the attacker’s chest, sending the guy sprawling back. He spun around, searching for his brother.

Riley took a punch to the jaw. His teeth cut into the inside of his cheek and blood flowed over his tongue. He spat to get the metallic taste out of his mouth, and threw his arm in the direction that the strike came from. Riley stumbled back and landed against someone else.

He spun around as he raised his arm, and looked into Bobby Jack’s eyes. “Damn it, Bobby Jack!”

“You said stay close.” His brother threw a series of blows at a skinhead that lunged for them.

“You see Isaac?” Riley squinted, trying to see into the darkness.

Two men rushed him, flanking his sides. A flicker of light bounced off the blade one guy clutched. Riley twisted to the side and felt the knife slice between his ribs. He dropped the lumber. Pain slammed through him as he clipped the weapon-wielding man and swung at the guy’s associate. Blood soaked his shirt, pouring from the wound as he moved. Bobby Jack stomped on the downed man as he made his way to Riley’s side.

“Isaac is somewhere near the front.” His brother peered closely at him. “You all right?”

A man jumped down from a haystack, barreling into Bobby Jack’s back. Both men went down. Riley snatched the fellow back by the hair, and kneed the guy in the nose before tossing him back. He ignored the sharp ache building in his middle. Three more men crowded him. They grabbed his arms, holding him back as the third fellow pummeled his fists into Riley’s belly. He strained to see behind him, but he only heard grunts, as he was sure that Bobby Jack was also in trouble.

More lanterns lit up, brightening the place. His uncle—he just couldn’t bring himself to think of Isaac as his father—stalked toward him with plastic grocery bags in his hands. He didn’t struggle; he waited.

Isaac handed the bags to the neo-Nazi he’d fought with at the park. “Suffocate and bury them where they can’t be found.”

Commotions began behind him. Groans and the thud of flesh being hit, followed by painful rumbles grew louder. One of the men plunged forward, releasing Riley’s arm. He shuffled back to keep from being tugged down. Another knife was thrust into Riley’s palm. He gazed up and met Bobby Jack’s gaze.

“Don’t waste your chance, brother.” Bobby Jack winked before rearing back and head-butting the man pulling on him.

Riley slammed his foot into the knee of the other guy and a crack reached his ears before the fellow crumpled. The skinhead gripping the plastic bag arched toward him and he plowed a fist into the man’s tatted throat. Time slowed as he shoved the guy to the side and buried the knife between Isaac’s shoulder blades. The old man strained, swiping at the handle, but he couldn’t reach it. Riley planted a foot at the small of his uncle’s back and propelled him forward. Isaac dropped flat.

Above the clamor of fighting, faint sirens could be heard. He was losing strength. His side was sticky with blood, and every time he moved, he hurt.

Riley exhaled and swiveled in a circle to find Bobby Jack. His brother was on his feet, and still swinging, his strikes alternating between two men holding him. Riley dipped and wretched a crowbar from the hands of an unconscious skinhead. He raised his arm and strode toward the group, slamming the metal bar into the face of one of the men beating Bobby Jack.

Beams of light sliced through the air. Deep voices yelling directions rent the air. Riley struggled to stay on his feet as the neo-Nazis scattered, running from the barn.

Bobby Jack staggered up to him. One eye was swelling shut and blood dribbled from his nose. “I think the cavalry has arrived.”

“Ain’t you a lucky ass?” Riley snorted.

“Naw, brother, I just don’t believe in being a martyr.” Bobby Jack slipped his shoulder under Riley’s arm to hold him up.

****

Savannah rushed through the emergency room entrance and up to the intake counter. “Excuse me.”

The woman gazed at her for a moment before continuing shuffling through paperwork. Savannah walked the length of the counter and stood in front of the clerk. “I’m looking for a man brought in by ambulance.”

“I need more information.” The worker didn’t lift her head. “Hundreds of injured are brought in daily.”

“Listen, you bi…” Savannah’s grip tightened on her purse.

“Savannah!” Whit stepped from behind a lone door across the room. “I’ve been checking to see when you got here. Riley’s in surgery and Bobby Jack is getting stitches.” She locked arms with Savannah and dragged her toward the metal door. A soft buzz sounded and then she yanked the barrier open.

They passed cubicles filled with ill and injured people. Curtain separated rooms blended into ones with glass walls. Whit walked into the farthest stall. Bobby Jack sat on a gurney while a doctor gently stitched up a gash along his eye.

She was glad Riley’s cousin was okay, but she desperately needed to know how the man himself was doing. “Riley?”

“He’s in surgery, but when we were getting in the ambulance, he didn’t complain much.”

A guy filled the entrance. He produced a badge. “Detective Michaels, if you have some time, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Bobby Jack cocked his head. “Fire away.”

The officer pulled out a small notebook. “Nine-one-one received a call that two men were being murdered at the barn. We rounded up several neo-Nazis who claim y’all were just partying.”

“Yeah…no. My brother and I belong to the local chapter of skinheads. We no longer want to be a part of the group, but there are certain steps that must be followed in order to leave the brotherhood. My wife got anxious and dialed nine-one-one when I didn’t return home immediately.”

Detective Michaels turned toward Savannah and Whit. “And you two are?”

“I’m the wife.” Whit held up her left hand. “This is our friend.” She pointed at Savannah.

“One man is in surgery, and the other was pronounced dead at the scene, which makes this a homicide. How are they related to you? And what exactly happened?” The policeman scribbled on his notepad.

“Riley Joe is my brother. Isaac is our daddy.” Bobby Jack spoke in a dull, matter-of-fact tone. “Seems our father wasn’t happy with our defection, and he ordered our death. He tried to wrap a plastic bag around my brother’s head, so Riley Joe fought him off.”

Savannah swallowed. The revelations left her speechless. Riley hadn’t mentioned any of this to her. Momentary hurt filled her that he didn’t trust her enough with his secrets.

She clutched her purse against her middle and backed up to take a seat in the lone chair in the room. The questioning continued and she tuned out the voices, anxious for the inquiries to be over so she could find out about Riley. She needed to see him to make sure he was truly all right.

“That’s all the questions for the moment. Don’t leave Mobile.” Detective Michaels exited the room.

The doctor finished stitching up Bobby Jack. His friends didn’t wait for him to be released. After grabbing cups of coffee, they trudged up to the waiting room off the surgical unit. A few couches and several straight back chairs made the small chamber feel miniscule. Newspapers were scattered across the surface of the end table, along with a few discarded paper cups. On the wall was a small flat screen TV.

Whit ambled over to the television and pressed a button on the bottom. The early morning news show was reporting the daily events. Savannah glanced at the clock. It was going to be a long day.

Her cell buzzed, and she peered at her phone and shook her head. Hiding from her family wasn’t working. Maybe it was time to take a page from Riley’s book and face them head-on. “Yes, Della.”

“Savannah.”
How could her mother make her name sound like a chastisement?
She was so tired.

“Della, I got some serious shit happening and I just can’t deal with you today.” A sense of relief and freedom bowled through her.

“Young lady!”

“I said…
not to-damn-day
.” She swiped the end button and clutched the phone harder. Anger welled up in her for all the mistreatment, the missed opportunities. She slammed the cell on the wooden table and kept pounding it into the surface. Furious bellows erupted past her lips as the device cracked into pieces.

Bobby Jack and Whit stared at her. “It’s called anger management,” Whit committed dryly.

Trenton’s picture flashed across the screen. Savannah ignored Whit’s comment and focused on the TV. The scene cut to a reporter standing in an open field.

Assistant Prosecutor Trenton Bishop was found in a remote area tied to a tree. The word Rapist was sprayed across his body in neon orange paint. He has been taken to USA (University of South Alabama) Hospital for evaluation. I’ll read the statement released by the District Attorney’s office.