Burn (5 page)

Cruz kept talking.
 
“Danni was lonely, man.
 
Real lonely.
 
You didn’t spot it, ‘cause you were busy getting Black Ice together, but she was drowning in that loneliness.
 
Maybe you never felt that way, but growing up with a drunk of a father who beat the shit out of me most nights, I know what it feels like to be so fucking lost you think you’ll never find your way out of it.”

Mercer was silent again.
 
He knew Danni was taking her time getting used to a new city, but he hadn’t realized how bad it was for her.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Mercer asked.

Cruz shrugged.
 
“Maybe because you were busy and she wanted to support you.
 
Maybe she did and you weren’t listening.
 
I don’t know.
 
All I know is she needed a friend and I was there.”

It was a lot to process, and Mercer knew he wasn’t thinking straight, not after the ride, the sleepless night, and the booze.
 
He finished off his beer and pushed the mug away, signaling he was done for the night.

The bikers got up from the table and headed for the door, but before they could get outside, two women approached them.
 
One had short dark hair, the other was blonde.
 
They were both wearing cutoff denim shorts.
 

“You ain’t leavin’ yet, are ya?” asked the blonde.

Mercer wanted no part of these women, but looked to Cruz to see if he wanted to bother with them.
 
Cruz, looking as tired as Mercer felt, shook his head.

“Sorry, ladies.
 
It’s been a long day.”

The dark-haired one put her hand on Mercer’s chest and ran her fingers across it.
 
“I like your vest,” she said.

“It’s a cut,” said Mercer.
 
“We’re in Black Ice.”

The girls looked at each other and smiled.
 
“I love bikers.
 
Don’t you, Darla?”

Darla, the blonde, nodded in agreement.
 
There was a time when Mercer would have gone for these girls.
 
Hell, there was a time when he would have gotten them both into bed at the same time, but Danni was all he thought about anymore.
 
“Sorry, girls.
 
We really do have to go.”

Mercer and Cruz pushed their way past the girls, but the ladies weren’t taking no for an answer.
 
They followed them to their bikes.

“Stacy, don’t you just want to take a ride on that big ol’ hog?” said Darla.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Mercer and Cruz looked to see who was shouting.
 
Cruz realized the voice had come from the deck on the roof of the bar.
 
Two men were up there, beers in hand, staring down at the Black Ice members and the two women.

“Oh shit,” said Darla.
 

The girls were gone before Mercer or Cruz could figure out what was going on, though they had a pretty good idea.
 
The two men bounded down the wooden stairs towards the parking lot.

“Bet you those two ladies are the girlfriends of those two guys up there,” said Cruz.

“And I have a feeling they’re more pissed at us than them,” answered Mercer.

As the two men got closer, Mercer saw just how big they were.
 
Tall and broad- shouldered.
 
They both had dark hair and squashed noses.
 
They looked so similar that Mercer guessed they were brothers.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” said the one in a red flannel shirt.

“I think we’re leaving, and I think if you’re smart, you’re going to let us,” said Mercer.

The other, the one in the T-shirt that read, “Party till she’s cute,” said, “You’re ‘bout to get your ass whooped.”

Mercer went to get on his bike.
 
“The last time I fought over a woman, I actually fucked her.
 
Those ladies were just making conversation.
 
I’ve had a long day and I really just want to get some sleep.”

Red Flannel spit on the ground and cracked his knuckles.
 
“You’ll sleep good when I knock your ass out.”

Mercer had had enough of those two.
 
He could’ve gotten on his bike and taken off, but he was angry and he wanted to take it out on someone.
 
He grabbed the red flannel shirt and punched the man hard in the stomach.
 
The guy groaned as the air left his lungs.

The other man made a move, but Cruz put everything he had into a punch and landed it right on the man’s nose.
 
There was a satisfying crunching sound, blood spurted heavily, and the man fell back, his nose even flatter than before.
 

Mercer brought his knee up into the red flannel shirt, giving another blow to the ample gut.
 
He tossed the man into a car parked next to the bikes.
 

Both men were down.
 
The women came back, bending down to check their men.
 
Mercer and Cruz didn’t bother to see if the men were OK.
 
They mounted their bikes and fired up the engines.
 

Darla stood in front of the bikes.
 
“You hurt my Roscoe,” she yelled.

“Get the fuck out of my way or I’ll run your skank ass over,” Mercer shouted.

He took off, zooming past her.
 
Cruz did the same and the two bikers rode back to their motel to grab a good night’s sleep.

F
ixer came back in that morning.
 
The lines on his face were deeper and his eyes were bloodshot.
 
He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
 
He walked quickly into the room and dragged a small wooden chair over to the bed.
 
He sat on it backwards, resting his head on the back of the chair.
 
Danni noticed white circles around his nostrils.
 
From his behavior, she’d suspected he was a drug addict, but if he was doing lines of cocaine at nine in the morning, his problems were a lot worse than Danni thought.
 

“Hiya,” he said, trying to come off friendly, but the way he was moving and the way his eyes kept darting across the room gave him an erratic and dangerous quality.
 

“What do you want?” asked Danni.
 
She instantly regretted it.
 
She had to play nice with this man.
 
If he flew off the handle and made good on his promise to start cutting her, there was nothing she could do about it.

“I want to know Mercer’s supplier.
 
The one he uses to bring heroin into Rawlins.”

“Mercer doesn’t deal in drugs.”

Fixer’s lips curled around his yellow teeth.
 
The horrible grimace stayed on his face as he got up from the chair and paced the room.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Old Lady.
 
Don’t sit in my house and fuckin’ lie to me, ya hear?
 
An MC like Black Ice don’t get built without the steady supply of cash that only heroin and coke can bring in.”

Danni wasn’t lying.
 
Mercer did illegal things, even violent things, but he didn’t run drugs.
 
She knew that for sure.
 
The problem was, Fixer wasn’t believing her.
 
It didn’t matter what the truth really was—he had convinced himself that Black Ice was running drugs, and nothing was going to change his mind.

The plate from the previous night’s dinner was still on the table.
 
Fixer picked it up and ran his finger along the edge.

“This plate here belonged to my grandmamma.
 
You know that?
 
This land here, this is one of the few places the Rattlers got left.
 
See, we was poised for something big.
 
Rattlers were about to be huge.
 
Hell’s Angels huge.
 
Then Mercer…”
 
His breathing quickened.
 
“Fucking Mercer!
 
He ruined everything.
 
He stole our money and took off.
 
Back to that shit-heel of a town you come from.
 
He ruined everything!”

Fixer threw the plate against the wall and it shattered.
 
His knife came out quick, the point at Danni’s throat.
 
She didn’t move; she didn’t dare breathe.
 
He could slice her neck and she’d bleed out before he even reached the door.

“I know he wants it all for himself.
 
He wants everything that’s rightfully mine!
 
And you
are
going to tell me who his fucking supplier is!”

Danni didn’t know what Fixer was talking about.
 
She shouted out the first name that popped into her head.
 
“Carl Benson!”

She didn’t know why she said that name, but once it was out, there was no taking it back.

Fixer’s eyes grew even darker and he pressed his knife harder into her neck.
 
She felt a trickle of blood run down her throat.

“Carl Benson owned that stupid fucking carnival outside of town.
 
The man disappeared years ago when that place went belly up.”

“No.
 
He’s the supplier,” Danni said, making up the story as she went along.
 
“He used the carnival as a front.
 
He distributed the drugs through his workers there.
 
When the cops started nosing around, he closed up shop, but still sold them.
 
He’s the one you want.”

Despite being terrified, Danni was pleased with herself for making up the story on the spot.
 
In reality, she had no idea who Carl Benson really was, or even if he was alive or dead.
 
She quietly prayed Fixer didn’t know either.

He must’ve bought the story, because his knife fell away from her neck.
 
She put her hand to the puncture wound.
 
It didn’t seem bad, Fixer had just barely broken the skin.

He stared into space, his eyes darting back and forth as he thought.
 

“Makes some sense,” he said softly.
 
“Always wondered why a traveling carnival stayed there.
 
Then the man just vanished.
 
Yeah, makes some sense.”

She couldn’t believe it.
 
Fixer was actually buying her story.
 
Whether because she was a good liar or he was fried out of his mind, she didn’t know, but he bought it.

“Where can I find him?”

Danni shrugged.
 
“I never knew.
 
Mercer only said the name.”

Fixer smiled again and Danni’s stomach turned.
 
“That’s good.
 
Real good.
 
You know anything else useful?”

“That’s really it,” she said.
 
She regretted it immediately.
 
She knew that once they didn’t need her anymore, she’d be killed.
 

Fixer nodded and laughed for some reason.
 
He took out his knife again and flipped it in his hand.

“That’s good.
 
That’s real good, but now that I got what I need, there ain’t no reason to keep you around.”

He came in with the knife and Danni backed into a corner.

“Wait,” she pleaded.
 
“Please, just wait.
 
I gave you what you wanted, so you can let me live.
 
I’m stuck here anyway.”

“Sorry, Old Lady.
 
But it’s a pain in the ass to send someone down here to feed you all the time.”

Danni thought fast. “OK, but please, just give me one thing.”

Fixer stopped advancing. “What’s that?”

“Don’t use a knife.
 
Please.
 
I can’t stand it.
 
If you have to do it, use a gun.”

Fixer nodded and put the knife away.
 
Danni prayed he didn’t have a gun on him, that he’d have to go get one.

“Be right back,” he said.

He walked out of the cabin and Danni heard the locks click into place.
 
She scrambled to the broken plate and picked out the longest piece she could find.
 
It was about six inches long and came to a very sharp point on one end.
 
She ran into the bathroom and wrapped the large end in toilet paper to protect her hand.
 

She thought she might vomit.
 
She didn’t want to do this.
 
She had never hurt anyone in her life, not like this, but the Rattlers had left her no choice.
 
She thought of Mercer, of what he would do in this situation, and then she thought of the scared little girl in the woods.