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Charlie had seen enough, and they’d gotten a little too close to Dee Dee for a regular business transaction—a little too close for his comfort. He walked out from around the corner of the club and stated flatly, “I don’t think the lady’s interested, fellas.”

Both Wheelers spun around, brandishing their own attempt at intimidating composures, as if they wanted to fight. As soon as they recognized the man who was responsible for their recent facial woes, that machismo melted away pretty quickly. Whether it was because they knew they had him outnumbered or because they didn’t have a full brain between them, Charlie had to hand it to them: they didn’t outright run away like he’d expected.

“Mind your business,” the first one said, puffing out his chest.

“I think the three of us got off on the wrong foot the other day, boys,” Charlie said, still walking towards them slowly, keeping his hands in his pockets. “All I know is your last name, Wheeler. You guys got first names?”

The two looked at each other for a moment, as if they weren’t sure whether they should give him their names, but then the more outspoken one said, “I’m Jimmy, and this is Petey.”

Charlie wasn’t too surprised that the attempted rapists would ID themselves; they were, after all, stupid. They were also kind of ugly, in that their faces didn’t seem quite proportionate. Their eyes were a little too close together, their faces a little too long. Petey was younger looking and fatter, a little shorter than Jimmy. Jimmy kind of had a melted-stick-of-butter physique, with narrow shoulders blubbering down to a belly that mercilessly stretched his t-shirt at the waist.

“Jimmy and Petey, hmm?” Charlie said. “Well, Jimmy and Petey, it’s getting late, and the lady looks tired. She probably wants to go home and get some sleep—alone, if you know what I mean.”

The Wheelers looked around the parking lot and grinned, as if they were satisfied to see they were alone.

“The last time,” Jimmy said, “you hit us with cheap shots, like a little bitch.”

“I punched you both in the face,” Charlie pointed out.

“They were cheap shots,” Petey said.

“It ain’t gonna happen like that again, mister. Do you know who we are?” Jimmy said in a tone that indicated that they had a reputation he should know about.

“Sure I do. You’re Jimmy and Petey Wheeler. What more needs to be said?” Charlie asked.

“Do you know who we work for?” Jimmy asked.

“No,” answered Charlie, sincerely hoping they’d say Damon was their boss.

“We work for a guy named Damon. You heard of him?” Petey said.

“As a matter of fact,” Charlie said as he continued to circle around the boys, making sure he stood between them and Dee Dee, “I
have
heard of him. Sounds like a scary guy.”

The two laughed a kind of forced, stupid laugh—the nervous laugh someone uses to counteract an awkward silence or their own self-consciousness. 

“Why don’t you two go on home? I’m gonna stand here and watch to make sure the lady gets outta here all right,” Charlie said, not wanting to let on that he and Dee Dee were familiar with each other; he knew no good would come of that revelation. “Then I’m gonna watch you go the other direction, all right? That way we can stay friends, and that little issue we had a couple days back will just be history.” Charlie looked over his shoulder and nodded Dee Dee toward her car.

She looked scared, her eyes lost in some memory, another time and place where bad things had happened and led her down a different path in life. It took her a moment to refocus her eyes and look at Charlie. She backed away slowly, and Charlie watched her get into her car, a pretty new looking red Acura.

Petey dared to take a step forward, and Charlie held up one finger, warning him to wait; Petey stopped obediently. Charlie watched Dee Dee drive away and waited for her taillights to disappear before turning his attention back to the Wheelers. He then pulled out his pack of cigarillos and offered them to the Wheelers, who just stood there in abject confusion. Charlie lit one and blew a puff into the night sky. “She’s gone. Why don’t you two just go on home, toss one to a naked lady site on the Internet and hit the hay? It’s safer that way.”

Maybe if Charlie hadn’t said the part about it being safer, the two would have just left, but there was something about that sort of verbiage that tended to rile up certain folks.

“You don’t even get it, do you?” Jimmy asked. “Between Damon and The Baker, we’re gonna own this town. Shit, we’ll own the whole state ‘fore long.”

Charlie took a slow pull from his cigarillo and tapped the ash. “The Baker?” he asked.

He could see the look in the two men’s eyes as they looked at each other again, confused, like they weren’t sure if they’d already mentioned The Baker or if they’d just said too much. It was Jimmy that made the first move, trying to move too far too fast, his fist winding up from ten feet away, his feet shuffling clumsily as he threw an overhand right. Charlie stepped to the side and planted a right hook to Jimmy’s jaw; it wasn’t that hard of a blow, but it was enough to put him on his butt.

“That was ugly,” Charlie laughed, feeling the need to goad the two. His patience only went so far, especially when it came to half-wits who seemed to be okay with the idea of rape. Something inside him just begged to taunt, and Charlie felt more than willing to comply. “People don’t appreciate boxing as an art anymore. It’s the sweet science. Too many people watch that mixed martial arts and throw wild punches, tripping over their own feet, no real power.”

Petey looked down at his brother, who was doing his best to scramble to his feet like a person who’d just tripped in public and didn’t want anyone to see. After weighing his options for a moment, Petey figured he should take a shot. Unexpectedly, he tried to throw a kick, since his brother’s punches hadn’t worked too well. Charlie promptly popped him with a jab to the nose and watched Petey stumble back with his hands on his face, trying to hide the inevitable tears that came with being hit square in the nose.

Charlie shook his head. “Ali, Tyson, Sugar Ray, Chavez, De La Hoya, Hopkins, these guys will go down forever as champions and greats—guys who fought forty, fifty, a hundred times. Meanwhile, these modern-day cage fighters go a whole career with only twenty fights. What’s that about? A bunch of franchised savages, that’s what”

Jimmy staggered to his feet with a wobble and moved forward again. Charlie sidestepped and hit him with a clipped uppercut, right under the chin. He could feel and hear Jimmy’s teeth click together.

Charlie shivered. “It’s like nails on a chalkboard.”

There was a groan as Petey managed to get to his feet, with blood trickling out of his nose and pooling at the top of his lips.

Charlie held out a hand, “Petey, I can do this all night. I haven’t even broken a sweat yet. You boys sure you wanna go ten rounds?”

Petey paused again, but Charlie was pretty sure it wasn’t because of him; there were police sirens in the distance. Charlie couldn’t be sure, given the fact that it was four in the morning, but there was a pretty good chance that the cops were headed to the fight in the back of the strip club.

Charlie looked back at Jimmy and Petey, who scurried off at the sound of the siren. For a moment, he was proud of himself for standing up in Dee Dee’s honor, but that thought faded as he cursed himself and kicked at the dirt. “Shoot,” he said to no one, “I shoulda asked them where this Baker lives.”

A few officers walked around the club, doing their best to look good in their blues for the few girls still hanging around, not shy about showing off so much skin to badges. The head bouncer said he hadn’t witnessed anything and told Nikki that the camera out back hadn’t worked all winter, probably because of the cold. The owner hadn’t ponied up the cash to get it fixed, as he paid bouncers to take care of any problems out there.

Nikki stood there as a uniformed officer took notes. She wasn’t particularly interested in doing the legwork on a strip club fight, but working nights meant doing some dirty work. It was all part of her job. It was with no small amount of surprise that she saw her partner walk into the club, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days, wearing the same suit he’d worn the day before. “What are you doing here, Boss?” she asked.

Perez rubbed the back of his neck and told her he’d had trouble sleeping and was on his way to get an early breakfast when he saw the lights and figured he’d check it out.

“That simple, huh? You see cherries and you check it out?” Nikki looked around with a coy smile. “There sure are a lot of half-naked ladies around here.” 

“That’s more than enough Sergeant,” Perez said and walked around the floor of the club.

Nikki told the bouncer that the officer would take down the rest of his report, then followed her partner to the other side of the room. The place was all pink and red, as if someone had puked up 1970s Las Vegas and called it décor. “You think it’s Charlie?” she asked, cutting to the chase. The thought had crossed her mind as well.

“Don’t you?” Perez asked. “Fight in the parking lot of a strip club, and the description sounds like the Wheelers. A little déjà vu if ya ask me, like what went down at Shirley’s Bar. I bet the guy at the door saw some guy in a porkpie hat. Maybe it even had something to do with that lady friend we saw him with at the diner.”

“I ran his prints off that coffee cup, just like you asked,” Nikki said, intentionally not giving her partner the results, making him draw it out of her.

“And?”

“Nothing,” Nikki said. “No hits anywhere. Clean as a whistle, as far as we know.”

Perez gave a little sneer and plopped down on one of the furry looking couches. “I don’t buy that. Maybe he hasn’t been picked up for anything yet, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s no coincidence that a meth lab blows up right after this guy shows up in town, in a trailer park where his friend was found dead.”

“It was a meth explosion, Boss. Sometimes it happens.”

“Sure, and if the trailer had just exploded, that would be one thing, but somebody tied those boys up. There’s more going on here, and I know this Charlie Kelly’s involved somehow,” Perez said. “Did you follow up on the tumbler?”

“Yep. I went around to the local shops and ranges,” Nikki said.

“And?” Perez said, his voice edged with annoyance at having to pry answers out of her.

“None of the local ranges or shops sell the make and model we found in the trailer.”

“A surrounding town maybe,” Perez said, defiant in his assumptions.

Nikki had to play along, as she knew her partner might be right. After all, he had more experience than most of the guys on the force and had worked in a lot tougher of places than Bluff Falls, North Dakota. “You think it could be a rival gang, that maybe they sent him here to send a message?”

Perez’s leg began to bounce on the floor, and he looked anxious and tired at the same time. “Maybe, but Damon is no one to mess with. He’s smarter than the other dope pushers I’ve come across. I’m more worried that this Charlie is some kinda wildcard, and if he is, he’s getting in over his head, whether he knows it or not. A guy like that is dangerous to civilians as much as anyone else.”

Nikki sat down on a chair across from her partner. “There is another option,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve got some friends,” Nikki said, her voice low. “They’re in the military, and they might be able to help us do a more, uh…thorough search for Charlie Kelly. Maybe they can see if he has military ties. Fingerprints didn’t turn up a military record, but you never know…”

Perez gave a slight head shake. Only once before had Nikki ever mentioned using her military connections to look into someone, and Perez gave her that same look, like he didn’t want to be involved, or maybe he was concerned that she might get in trouble. Either way, Nikki was sure it would be a better way to go than just relying on the usual databases. If the guy knew about explosives, that could mean he’d had some training from good ol’ Uncle Sam. 

“All right,” Perez finally said. “Go ahead and talk to your friends, but keep this low profile. The last thing I need is a buncha NSA or FBI suits around town getting their feathers in a bunch because your Army friends asked the wrong questions.”

Nikki smiled, wanting to tell him he worried too much. She knew there was no harm in what she was doing. What was the worst they can find out about a guy with no record anyway?

Chapter 12

The knock at the door sounded more like a casual tap, as if someone walking by had just absentmindedly drummed on the side of her trailer. Dee Dee opened it and was a little surprised to see Charlie there. Even though he’d managed to get between her and those two hillbilly-looking jerks in the parking lot, she hadn’t expected to see him again; she’d been sure that Charlie wouldn’t want to see her anymore.

“Hey,” Charlie said, gazing at her with those soft brown eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Dee Dee said, trying to sound casual and not too excited to see him. She hated that she always acted like a doe-eyed schoolgirl around him, this stranger she hardly knew, but she couldn’t help it, because Charlie talked to her so nicely and treated her differently than any other guy ever had.

“Can I come in?” Charlie asked.

Dee Dee stepped to the side and let a smile slip out. When Charlie returned the smile and gave her a little peck on the cheek, she closed her eyes for just a moment, basking in the feel of his soft lips tenderly kissing her. She melted a little when Charlie did things like that, when he made her feel like what she thought normal must be like. To have someone in her life that liked her just as much—if not more—when her clothes were on as when they were off. She offered Charlie a drink, and when he asked her again if she was okay, she told him once again that she was fine.

“That kind of thing happen to you before?” Charlie asked. He stood close to her, eyes filled with concern that he tried to hide.

“What?” Dee Dee asked. “A customer wanting more than just a dance?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Yes, it’s happened before,” Dee Dee said flatly, then didn’t say another word about it. The last thing she wanted to do was reminisce about that time years ago, before she got a job at the good Vegas clubs. That sweet-talker, not quite as smooth as Charlie, had turned out to be someone else entirely.