Page 6 of Bear Strength

We both chuckle, and the moment I raise my arms to wrap them around his little body, I feel his own hands around my neck. I bury my nose into his soft neck, and close my eyes. His scar is still there, right behind his left ear. I doubt it’ll ever pale enough to be invisible. But, at least he can’t see it. He asked me about it once, and I said he fell. In a way, I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell him the whole truth. I can only hope that I will never need to.

It takes us a few moments to unwrap each other from our bear hug, and he quickly disappears in his room. At least he didn’t close the door, I think to myself. I walk over to the kitchen, my heart full of hope that this was just an isolated incident.

CHAPTER 3

Mason

“So, you’re telling me we’re short?” I grunt at Wagner.

We’re both bending over the papers, but no matter what way you look at it, we’re short. That means someone’s legs might get broken, and for that, I need to be sure whose. Can’t go around breaking innocent legs left and right. Though, few legs are totally innocent in this line of work.

“Adrian and I counted. Twice.”

I sigh. If Wagner says he’s sure, then it’s a sure deal. He’s my right hand man, just like Adrian, and there’s no one else I’d trust with control over my business and the cash flow.

“Fuck,” I grunt again, stepping away from the piles of papers on my desk. “The route was the same?”

I don’t really know why I’m even asking. The route’s been the same for the last few years. We’ve established the path, paid off everyone who needed to be paid off, closed all the eyes, tied all the loose ends. And now, after periods of successful transport, we’re short.

“Pablo swears he sent exactly what we agreed. As always,” Wagner assures me, but I need no reassurance.

Pablo, our contact down South, is trustworthy enough. My father did business with his father, and I value his friendship, because he belongs to the old way of things. His word is his bond. If he says something, then I’m taking it at face value.

“That means someone skimmed off the top along the way somewhere,” I’m thinking out loud here.

I glance over at Wagner. My brother from another mother. My friend and confidant. The three of us started this business.We resurrected this shithole and made it what it is today. A little town with its own set of rules, a town that is off the map, but functions perfectly. We make sure of that every single day. At first, they frowned on our money. Pretending to be all chaste and innocent. Money doesn’t grow on fucking trees. It’s earned with blood and toil. But, eventually, they came around. Once they saw what our money could do for them, for their children. It helps, too, that this little townlet is a hidden gem in the mountains, so we’re safe here. It’s easy to receive all the shipments, and then just send them further on their way.

“Adrian and I could drive to the border. Talk to Alex. He’d know,” Wagner suggests.

“I’d come, too, but I need to sort out the mess over in Little Rock.”

“Adrian and I can handle it, don’t worry.”

I smile at him, squeezing his shoulder with my hand.

“Just be careful, OK?”

“We always are,” he nods, patting me on the back, then leaving.

Once again alone in my office, I sit in my recliner, enjoying the sight from the window. My bike is parked there, in plain sight. Behind it, the view of the mountains spreads out before me, promising the unattainable. I guess that’s what I’m looking for. Something that seems far away, always out of reach. But, with my trusty bike, I’ll always keep searching for it, always keep driving after it.

I finally reach the conclusion that there is no point dwelling on the deficit. Adrian and Wagner would get to the bottom of it. I’m sure. They’d come back in a few days, and if they aren’t bringing the deficit with them, they’d surely have the info on who’s to blame. And, that’s more than I need to settle the score.

So, I jump out of my chair, exit my office and enter straight into the workshop. Even with the doors completely closed, I can still hear the clinking, the clanking, the drills and chatter of my gang. It keeps me going. They keep me going. Alone, I wouldn’t be what I am. I’m myself, because they are around me, they make me their leader with their every action, their every decision.

I see Rock to my right, fixing the exhaust. Thor and Leo are checking the rear shocks. Our bikes always need to be in perfect condition, always ready for a long ride. Because, sometimes, our rides seem endless. So is the work we do.

At that point, I see Toke push the front door open, his hand gripping a kid’s upper arm tightly.

“Let go of me!” the kid kicks and screams, as he’s being brought before me.

I’m slightly amused by what’s happening, waiting for the explanation. Toke shoves the kid with brute force. He’s not used to dealing with kids, obviously. Neither am I, I guess. I watch curiously as the kid rubs his upper arm, but doesn’t say anything. The tips of his fingers are blue, and there is a faint smell of spray paint about him. I bet if I took his backpack and emptied it, there’d be a few spray paint cans still in there. So, the mystery is solved, but let’s make him squirm a little more. I look over at Toke, whose arms are crossed now in the line of his chest. His tattoos are clearly visible. He’s had them ever since I’ve known him, and he keeps adding more to the collection.

“So, what’s with the kid?” I ask, and everyone around me stops working on their bikes. They’re as amused as I am probably.

We’re not used to having kids around here. Sure, they dare one another occasionally to prank us in one way or another, but that was before. I thought they got tired of it. That suitedeveryone. Whoever this kid is, he must be new in town and doesn’t know whose property he found himself on.

“The little shit spray painted the back wall,” Toke moaned. “He even got some on my fuckin’ bike!”

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