Integrity Has No Bounds (8 page)

John laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, she
sent it, that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to talk to the Sheriff
about the Toy Run we’re having in a couple of weeks. We don’t want
to disrupt the traffic like last year, that ol’ boy almost tore a
strip off Baron for disturbing his lunch so he could direct
traffic.”

The two men sat around shooting the shit for
almost half an hour before Jimmy brought up the subject of Stevie’s
attack. He didn’t mention her name, just that a woman had been
violated this week, and there was an increase in breaking and
enterings around town. “We got prints, but they come back as a
biker from out of the area, he’s got a record long as my damn arm
and been in and out of one prison or the other since his momma
whelped him.”

John frowned and tried to look puzzled, “We
don’t have a lot of brothers that have those talents, Jimmy, you
know most of us, hell, we don’t sanction violating anybody, you
know that too.”

The Deputy was shaking his head, “Hell no,
man, if we thought he was one of the Breed, we’d be at the
clubhouse looking for him. This boy is a bad guy with nothing to
lose, ‘specially since they finally made that three strikes law.
Hang on a minute, I got a name, if he shows up, we’d appreciate an
anonymous call.”

He walked over to the computer desk and
tapped the keys, then walked over to the wall where the printer was
sitting by itself, because the building was old and electric plugs
were scarce. He pulled the sheet of paper off the tray and came
back to the desk. “His name is Burton Chandlehook. He goes by the
names Candle and Fuse. No one’s seen him on the radar for eight
months, since the day he was paroled from Huntsville. He never made
it to his first appointment with the parole office.”

The desk phone began ringing, and Jimmy shook
his head at the interruption, “Billie Sue better get back from her
vacation soon, I ain’t a damn secretary.” He answered the phone and
the men exchanged waves and head nods. John left the office, and
felt the satisfaction of knowing the name of his prey. He wasn’t
worried about Deputy Jimmy knowing that he knew the name.
Coincidences happened all of the time, and proving shit was hard
when there was no evidence.

He headed southeast, anticipating the hunt
and focusing on his main target. The ride would be a long one, but
the information he needed would be worth it, and if he happened to
run across a Rat or two, the trip might be entertaining at least.
He was doing recon for now, unless opportunity came knocking.

Arkansas had some beautiful countryside, he
had to give them that, and the foothills of the Ozarks had a few
breathtaking views that he enjoyed seeing on his trip, too bad he
didn’t have the time to fully enjoy them.

When he stopped for gas and to walk the kinks
out, he admired the setting of the gas station and convenience
store. The trees and wild flowers looked like a picture
postcard.

The cashier was a chatty little guy who
appeared to know everybody and everything going on in the area.

“If you’re a drinking man, you should know
the next county is a dry one. You cain’t buy nuthin’ but rubbin’
alcohol there, so if you’re headed home, might want to grab
yourself a six to take with you.”

John shook his head and walked back to the
cooler to grab soda. All he’d need would be for the chatty fucker
to keep talking, soon enough he’d get some sort of direction to
find the Swamp Rat’s nest.

Two people walked into the station, and one
started giving the little man shit while the other came around the
corner of the aisle to the beer coolers. John was partially hidden
on the opposite side of the aisle and pretended that he was looking
at the chips. It didn’t take long for the trouble to start, and he
waited until the two tough guys had the kid hanging over the
counter with one of them lying over the top of his scrawny victim
while he pulled cigarettes out of the dispenser. His companion was
selecting the type of whiskey that they wanted to take with
them.

Sure enough, the fuckers wore Swamp King
cuts, but they weren’t fully patched, that disappointed him, but
they would work to further his purposes.

“Hey, boys, now that ain’t a nice thing to do
to someone smaller than you are. Your big ass is squishin’ the
little guy. I’m sure he’d co-operate with you stealin’ from his
place of business, you don’t need to be hurtin’ him. Why don’t you
just steal what you can carry and let him go?”

It was all an act, a good ol’ boy trying to
be helpful to the distressed clerk. The Rat straightened up from on
top of the boy and the other jumped down from the counter where
he’d been standing. Typical behavior, they were going to gang up on
him for interfering with their fun.
Fuckin’ Rats
.

“Well, well, what have we got here, Willie?
Looks like a bad boy biker, but you ain’t bad ‘nuff for the Swamp
Kings? Is that why you ain’t wearing our colors? What the fuck is a
Lucifer’s Breed anyway. I’ll tell you, a Lucifer’s Breed is one
ugly motherfucker, that’s what you are. You a pussy man,
ain’cha?”

Willie kept bobbing his head up and down
while the long-haired punk talked. If he wasn’t reaching for a
weapon, John would have laughed at the expression on the freckled
face. His hand held a pig sticker from his boot, and John had all
of the incentive he needed by law. He was unarmed, but played the
scene up for the security cameras that were located in every corner
of the room. He held his hands out to his sides and shook his
head.

“You boys should just leave, if you come at
me with that toothpick, I’m gonna think you intend to do my body
harm, and I’m trained to hurt you if I have to.” He knew his words
would make the overconfident assholes laugh—he counted on it. Too
many Kung-Fu movies instead of cartoons must have been what they
were raised on.

“OOwee, we got a real bad assed muthafucker
here, I’m skeered, ain’t you skeered, Mel?” Willie must’ve found
his voice when he got his weapon in his grasp.

Now all he needed was for them to come and
get him before he schooled the punks. It took maybe five seconds
for him to break the wrist that held the knife, and another ten to
shove the little fucker’s head into the metal doorframe. Mel tried
to jump him from behind, and John sidestepped at the last second,
Mel landed on top of his pal who was now bleeding from a head wound
and moaning, while his prone body was blocking the exit.

Like any other Rat would do, Mel tried to
yank Willie out from the doorway, but John grabbed him by the back
of his shirt and shook him. “You move him, and he might die, that’s
on you, asshole.”

The little prick reacted to that just as John
figured he would, he started swinging his fists. He was allowed one
knuckle crunching punch, before John punched him in the gut, and as
he went down, rather than the traditional upper cut to the jaw,
John brought the side of his hand down on the boy’s collarbone,
halfway between his neck and shoulder. Mel was hauled over to where
Willie still laid bleeding.

John walked back to the cooler, got his soda,
and came back to the desk to see the clerk watching him with eyes
widened. He looked like a fish gulping for water. “Sorry about the
mess, here’s a twenty to pay for the disinfectant and the soda.” He
leaned in closer to look the boy up and down. “Did they hurt
you?”

The little guy shook his head and rattled his
brains enough to speak. “Oh man, that was so cool, where’d you
learn to do that?” He offered his hand for John to shake and a
friendship of sorts was formed.

“Shouldn’t you call the cops or an ambulance
or something?” John wasn’t surprised when his new friend who
introduced himself as Tyler Butler, shook his head.

“Last time they came into the place and my
sister called the law, they cut the hoses on the gas pumps and shot
the windows out. We usually let ‘em steal whatever they come for
and be done with it. I haven’t had to meet these two before, and
I’m not sure what to do with them. This ain’t the first time we’ve
been robbed mind you, but usually they don’t try to hurt any of
us.’ He glanced over to where the two men were lying in the
doorway. “That one, he’s bleeding pretty bad.”

John went to the back corner of the room and
called Baron. Once he’d related what went down, he asked him if
he’d call Pappy D and tell him to come get his boys. “I’ll put them
in the bed of their pick-up. Thanks.” He ended the call, not
wanting to get into any in-depth conversation with the prez right
then.

He went to the door and started moving the
wounded men out of the way enough that he could drag them back out
the door and over to their beat to hell and back pick-up. Mel was
groggy and in pain, but he was awake, so John gave him the speech
that he’d be repeating to every Rat he would find until he had
Candle in his grasp.

“You tell Candle to drag his stinking
cowardly ass out of that putrid swamp he lives in, and come face
me, or more of you boys are gonna suffer until he does.”

He went back inside and finished getting the
information he sought from Tyler, then he offered the kid a smile
and made his request.

“I want you to give me the security footage
from the cameras, and don’t bother to tell me you don’t have
access, I just saved your ass, and I want to be able to prove
it.”

Now that he knew where the Swamp Kings
clubhouse was located, he could do some recon before he left the
area.

*****

Pappy D came stomping out onto the back porch
and started yelling for Donnie Lee. “Get your ass down to the
county line station and see what kinda shape those two gator baits
has got themselves into now. I jest gotta a call from that Breed
bastard, his boy done fucked up Mel an’ Willie.”

The old man was so pissed he was trembling
with his anger, and Donnie was concerned Pappy D would blow a blood
vessel or something, but he nodded his compliance and headed for
his scoot. He wasn’t surprised when the old man called after him to
hurry his ass up. Mel was Donnie’s youngest brother, and spoiled as
they came. He was always having to drag the little bastard out of
trouble.

He’d no sooner mounted his bike than Mel
drove up in the pick–up, almost running into the line of bikes in
front of the club. He slumped over the wheel with the motor still
running, and Donnie grew alarmed.

He pulled open the door and reached under his
brother’s chest to turn the key off, and then pushed Mel upright so
he could see what the damage was. A couple of scrapes in his little
brother’s face wasn’t enough to do the damage that Mel must have to
be throwing up blood like he was doing.

He laid his hand on the horn to get the
attention of whoever was inside the club, and heard screaming from
the back of the truck. “Oh fuck me, we’re gonna have to call the
medics for this one.”

Pappy D was trailed Kermit and Dell coming
out of the front doors of the clubhouse and almost shoved the two
out of his way when he saw the truck. He heard Donnie calling for
an ambulance and knew it must be bad. He could hear Willie
screaming that his head was split in two, but his concern was for
his boy.

“Lay him on the seat, and give him a few sips
of water, but nothin’ else, if’n he’s pukin’ blood, there ain’t
much we can do.”

Tonda, Dolly, and June brought the bottles of
water and damp towels to try to make the injured men more
comfortable. A plastic bag filled with ice cubes was placed
directly on top of Willie’s head wound that still seeped blood down
his face, and Pappy D sat on the steps with his head down,
thinking.

He called Donnie over to him, and quietly
told him to find Candle. “You bring that troublemakin’ sumbitch to
me. You do it friendly, or you do it not so friendly, but you bring
that fucker here to me, you hear me, boy?”

Donnie nodded his head. Candle should never
have been allowed back into the fold when he got out of Huntsville.
The code said he paid his due and was one of them, so he was
welcomed back with a party and everything. Since he’d been back,
they’d had nothing but trouble coming their way, and with the case
of mad Pappy was wearin’, the shit was gonna splatter the walls
real soon.

“I’ll go soon as the medics get Mel and
Willie in the meat wagon. Mel kept sayin’ the one that fucked them
up was a big mutha, and said he was lookin’ for Candle.”

It occurred to him the Breed’s prez acted
like a decent sort considering, but he wasn’t going to say that out
loud. Pappy D wouldn’t have bothered to call his enemy to send them
to help their brothers. Mayhap the Breed was touched in the head
kinda like Willie was. If that was the case, then how in the hell
did they get to be such bad motherfuckers?

*****

John watched the scene play out in the dirt
parking space in front of a weathered old building. None of the men
looked like the picture in the mug shot he’d seen on the print out
on Deputy Jimmy’s desk.

He backed into the trees and hiked to the
spot he’d left his bike. He had a long ride ahead of him, but now
that he had a location, he’d be back real soon.

It was a long damn ride back to Juanita, but
he was focused and ready to kick ass by the time he pulled into the
lot at the club. He’d stopped by the garage and traded his daily
ride for the bagger so he wouldn’t have to make another stop. Gabe
and Chewy had everything in order at the shop, so he was free to
take care of personal business. He walked in the door and Myrtle
told him that the prez wanted to see his ass pronto. As she put it,
“You are in trouble, my man; if he has to come get you, me an’
Burger are selling tickets.” She smiled sympathetically and popped
the cap from the longneck she handed to him as he strode past.

He rapped on the door and turned the handle,
before walking into the room. Baron was going through the books
with Orin and Fingers. When he saw who walked in, his eyes narrowed
and he told the number crunchers to get their shit straightened
out. “I’m no accountant but I can see we have a problem, you two
are in charge of the books, I’m getting the idea that one or both
of you are getting ready to make a move. Probably to some place a
bike can’t find you, but Tank and his accountants are at your place
going through the computers there and the office. If he doesn’t
find a discrepancy, we’re good, if he finds that we have reason to
worry, we’re not so good.