Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 (36 page)

unwritten rule?

Martinez murmured in my ear, “You okay, blondie?”

“Uh. Yeah.” I smiled at Tricks. “Th

anks for your help.”

“Anything else?” he said to Martinez.

“No. Keep your mouth shut on this and we won’t have a problem, understand?”

Tricks nodded vigorously and zipped out of the booth.

I looked at Tony. His eyes were fl at black as his gaze encompassed the room and he absentmindedly sifted my hair through his fi ngers.

Before either of us spoke, yet another Hombres member bent El Presidente’s ear.

Big Mike nudged me as he slid back in the booth.

“What?”

“Nothin’. Sorry.”

I sighed. Sipped my beer. Tried like hell to ignore the conversation Martinez was having.

“Fun, ain’t it?” Big Mike spoke in low tone and 416

tipped his bottle of Bud and drank.

“You telling me this isn’t your bag?”

“Not a bit.”

“What would you rather be doing? Making sure Martinez is safe from all the dollar bills fl ying on the stage at Bare Assets? Or cracking skulls at Fat Bob’s?”

“Neither.”

“But isn’t this what the Hombres lifestyle is all about? Why you’ve got so many pledges? Booze, babes and brawling? Brotherhood and good times? Lettin’ it all hang loose?”

“Maybe it used to be; at times it still is. But bossman runs it like a business these days. Th

at’s why he’s so suc-

cessful. Th

at’s why he ain’t seen the inside of a jail cell.”

I fl icked an ash. Th

e idea of Martinez in jail made

me queasy, but it could potentially happen. I’d worry about that when and if it did. “What don’t you like about him being here?”

“First off ; too many people. Don’t know most of

’em. Hard to keep an eye on them all and him too.”

“Isn’t this about the safest place Martinez can be?”

“You’d think so. But nights like this when there are lots of nonmembers roaming around, his security team gets twitchy.” He didn’t elaborate, just took another swig of beer.

“He lets you drink on duty?”

417

Big Mike shrugged his massive shoulders. “Since 99% of the time we’re in a bar, it’d be pretty hard not to drink. We all stop at one.”

Good thing I didn’t have to. I ground out my smoke, drained my beer and signaled for another. It appeared in record time.

Tony’s hand squeezed my thigh.

Th

e short, squat guy with a face like a pug moved out.

A pogo stick with boobs moved in. She angled across the table and grinned at Martinez. “Haven’t seen you around here in a while.”

Was it my imagination or did Martinez skooch closer to me?

“Been busy,” he said to her face, not her breasts.

Point for him.

I shook out a cigarette.

Martinez snagged my lighter, and brought the cigarette to the fl ame. Once the cancer stick smoked between my fi ngers, he draped his arm over my shoulder and continued winding his fi ngers in my hair. My, my, wasn’t he proprietary tonight?

“Ain’t ya gonna introduce us?” the pogo stick asked.

“Julie, this is Nyla. Nyla, Julie.”

She rubbed the heel of her hand under her nose.

Eww.
So
not shaking hands with her. Nyla stared at me without blinking. Creeped me out. But I didn’t 418

look away.

Neither did she. Weren’t we the height of maturity?

“She the reason you changed the rules?”

Heavy pause from Martinez. “My new rules were enacted barely two hours ago. How did you hear about them?”

“Yeah, well.” She straightened up and itched her elbow. Her shoulder. Th

en her head. “News travels fast

around here.”

“Apparently.”

Nyla shifted her stance, practically dancing on the balls of her feet. What was she on? Meth?

“What else did you hear?” Martinez didn’t move.

His voice had dropped to that lethal growl that made my hair stand on end and everyone within hearing distance take notice. “Every. Single. Word. Right. Now.”

“We heard you were going soft. Not listening to other brothers’ concerns who’ve been around a long time. Heard some things about her too,” Nyla said to Martinez. “Th

at she’s a manipulative bitch who’s lead-

ing you around by your dick. No off ense, but she don’t look all that tough.”

My gaze narrowed and I lowered my cigarette.

Big Mike jeered, “I hope you don’t have to fi nd out how untrue that is, Nyla. Now get the fuck out of here before you really piss me off .”

419

Whoa. Big Mike used his mouth and his muscles?

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She bounced out of sight.

Martinez pressed his back to the booth and spoke to Big Mike behind me, so my head blocked their conversation from everyone in the bar. “Find out who’s talking about club business to outsiders. Have Jackal handle it.”

Big Mike hesitated a beat too long.

“What?” Martinez asked impatiently.

“And if Jackal is the one talking out of turn?”

“Th

en I’ll handle it.”

Chills raced down my spine.

Big Mike slid out to do bossman’s bidding. No-neck became a bookend to Bucket on my side of the booth.

Martinez and I were alone. Sort of. No one stared at us, but everyone watched. I put my hand on top of his on my leg and he let me.

More guys came by to pay their respects. I didn’t say a whole lot. Didn’t learn much besides it was boring as shit sitting there minding my manners and keeping my mouth shut.

Another round awaited me at the table when I returned from the bathroom. Martinez’ arm automatically hooked my shoulder. He didn’t miss a beat of his conversation with PT. Soon as the goofy bouncer left, Big Mike returned.

420

He loomed, putting us in shadow.

“What’d you fi nd out?” Martinez asked.

“Just as I thought. Th

e chief enforcer has a big mouth.”

Pause. Th

ick. Deadly.

“Fetch him. Now.”

“Gladly.”

Th

e little cocksucker deserved every bit of Tony’s wrath.

Jackal ambled over, acting as if he was doing Martinez a favor. He perched on the bench seat next to Martinez, giving him most of his back. A sign he didn’t see Tony as a threat? Stupid, stupid man.

Jackal ignored me. I think I pulled off nonchalance.

“Hey, Jack,” Tony said. “Got a minute?”

“Sure. I was surprised to hear you graced us with your presence after the meeting,” Jackal said. “What’s the special occasion?”

Martinez removed his arm from my shoulder and reached for his beer. “I need a reason to mark time in my club?”

“No, but lately you have other
things”
—Jackal shot me a dark look—“demanding your time.”

“Same could be said for you.”

Jackal angled sideways in the booth and faced Martinez completely. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You ain’t dumb enough to play dumb, Jack. You’ve 421

been talking to nonmembers about
things
that don’t concern them. Tonight, in fact. We both know that’s against the rules.”

Th

en Jackal said a foolish thing: “Maybe we should change those rules. Seems you did to suit your purposes.”

Next thing I knew, Martinez had smacked Jackal in the forehead hard enough the beer bottle shattered.

He grabbed Jackal by the back of the head and slammed his face into the table. A sickening crunch, then blood spurted out of Jackal’s busted nose.

Wham wham wham
. Th

e remaining beer bottles

wobbled and crashed to the fl oor. Th

e ashtray jumped.

Ash rose in the air like ghostly remnants from a volcano eruption.

I froze, apathetic, yet unable to look away.

Martinez ground Jackal’s bloody face into the table.

Jackal’s breath whistled through his sinus cavity. He didn’t fi ght Martinez, but he turned in my direction so he could breathe through his bruised lips.

He was a fucking mess.

Blood matted his beard. Covered his cheeks. A huge knot stuck out on his forehead. His eyes were squeezed shut. Martinez had chicken-winged Jackal’s arm up his back. He steadily applied pressure until Jackal’s arm popped from his shoulder socket; the cracking sound echoed like a gunshot.

422

Jackal grunted from the pain.

Someone had cut the jukebox. People in the club stayed silent and watchful.

I couldn’t work up the tiniest bit of revulsion.

Martinez bent toward Jackal’s ear. “Still think I’m soft?”

He didn’t speak loudly; he didn’t have to. His words were clear as a bell in the collective pause in the bar.

Jackal didn’t move.

“My fucking club, Jack. My fucking rules, understand?”

Still, Jackal didn’t move. Didn’t so much as twitch.

“Answer me,” Martinez demanded as he wedged the side of Jackal’s face into the table, mashing his engorged nose into his swollen cheek. Jackal’s fl eshy lips were so distended I didn’t know if he could speak.

“Yes,” he fi nally panted. “I understand.”

Drool and blood dripped from his mouth and pooled on the table next to the beer foam.

“For the record? She passed your little test. You failed mine. Remember,
hombre
, if you’re not with me, you’re against me. Don’t take me on because you
will
lose.”

Martinez jerked him upright by his hair. He released his hold on Jackal’s arm. PT slid into view. “Take him out of here. Get him checked out and cleaned up so he can be in my offi

ce at Fat Bob’s fi rst thing tomorrow

morning.”

423

“Yessir.” PT hauled Jackal up by his shirtfront and marched him from the room.

No one had taken a single step. Or a breath.

Martinez pointed to a goggle-eyed pledge, white-knuckling a barstool by the bar. “You. Clean this up. Now.”

“Yessir. Right away, sir.” He hustled over, wet towel in hand, gaze fi rmly on his boots.

No-neck slid the table out of the way so I didn’t have to crawl through blood to get out.

When Martinez looped his arm over my shoulder, I realized he didn’t have a speck of blood on him. Anywhere. His hands were perfectly clean. No one said a word as Big Mike, No-neck, and Bucket followed us out of the club.

M M M

Martinez dismissed his bodyguards and drove his Escalade to my house. Took me ten minutes to work up the guts to speak to him.

“What was that about?”

He didn’t answer right away. Finally he turned down Aerosmith’s
Jaded
. “Reminding Jackal of his place. Reminding everyone else of mine.”

Shit. “It wasn’t just a show of testosterone for my benefi t?”

424

“Partially.” He parked beside my truck and switched off the ignition. “A refresher in case you’ve forgotten who—and what—I am.”

“What’s the other part?”

“A warning that my new rules shouldn’t be questioned by
anyone
.”

I didn’t know how to respond or if he even wanted me to.

My grip tightened on my purse. “You coming in?”

“Aren’t you repulsed by my archaic behavior?”

I thought of my father’s violent streak and ignored the comparison. “No.”

“Scared of me?”

“Yes. But not for the reasons you might think.”

He lifted a brow but didn’t ask for clarifi cation and I’d be damned if I’d off er it up if I didn’t have to.

M M M

I dreamed of blood.

A body lay sprawled in the dirt. Fog and shadows swirled around me as I inched closer. My palms sweated, making the shovel handle slippery. I put my boot on the hip and kicked the corpse over.

Jackal. His throat sliced ear to ear. Just like Ben’s.

His eyes were wide open. Even in death he looked 425

spiteful. I saw Martinez grinning crazily, a big, shiny knife clamped between his bright white teeth.

I stumbled as I ran from him. Right into another body sprawled in the dirt. Sunshine blinded me as I trudged closer. My palms sweated, slicking up the broom handle I used as a blind man’s cane. I put my boot on the hip and kicked the corpse over.

Roland Hawk. His throat sliced ear to ear. Just like Ben’s. Black puddles congealed beneath his head. Even the earth didn’t want his tainted blood. I glanced at Denny fl ipping a straight-razor high in the air, then catch-ing it by the blade. With each rotation, Denny lobbed off a fi nger. He lunged for me with blood-coated stumps.

I fell down as I ran. Darkness descended. I crawled in the dirt, lost, scared, and alone, until I hit the next body. Hands free, I patted the form until I connected with a small hand. With something clenched in a tiny fi st. Light began to spill out of the palm like a magic trick. I knew who this sticky hand belonged to.

Jericho.

I dragged my gaze to his face. His neck was small and smooth, whole, not slit ear to ear. Not like Ben’s. He wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t dead. I still had a chance to save him.

Th

e
swish swish
of a scythe cutting through the forest got louder and louder. I tried to pick Jericho up, run 426

with him, but he seemed to be rooted in the ground.

You can’t keep him. You can’t save him.

Frantically I dug around him with my bare hands. I kept digging, uncovering layer upon layer, but I couldn’t budge him as his body sank deeper into the dirt.

A shadow fell across us. I made myself look up.

Abita was swinging the blade in a circle above her head like a helicopter rotator.

Jericho sat up like a horror movie zombie and morphed into a fi re-breathing dinosaur with red eyes.

Kill her
, I screamed, pointing at his mother.

But Jericho focused his attention on me. Snapping jaws, glowing eyes, sharp claws. Th

e tip of one claw

sliced my neck. Ear to ear. Just like Ben’s. Just like all the others. Blood poured out. Th