Page 83 of Apex of the Curve

We were still on pins and fuckin’ needles thanks to the Eastern Washington chapter’s bullshit, waiting to see if any of those fuckers were going to narc that were chillin’ out that way. They used to be club, out bad for killing that family. That made them somewhat unpredictable, but by the same token – they fuckin’ knew what was comin’ should they open their fuckin’ mouths.

Yeah,I thought to myself. You.

Scarier than any fuckin’ boogeyman the PNW had ever seen. Hell, that this club had ever seen except for that psycho motherfucker out in the mother chapter – Reaver.

He and I had gone up against each other at the last National Lake Run out to Lake Eversong and he’d won. I had the scars to prove it. Of course, I was probably a little crazier than that bastard, because given a second chance? I’d for sure go up against him again. He was a worthy fuckin’ opponent. I didn’t come across too many of those anymore.

When we’d gotten into the club, I’d gotten myself a bottle of IPA and headed across to the boneyard with Dump Truck. He wanted to put some work in on his latest rebuild, but honestly, I was pretty sure he just wanted to see his woman; even if it was just briefly. I knew what that was like now, and it was an odd little thorn… meaning it was really nice to have someone to feel that way over but by the same token, it was a new kind of suck. Still, I would see her real soon. It was just a new thing for me: missing someone who was still here.

“Baby, how about you run around the corner to the Saars and get us some shit to go with these steaks?” Dump Truck asked, and Little Bird smiled across the counters at him.

“Fen, you mind gettin’ the phones?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” I said. I went over to take Little Bird’s spot behind the cash wrap and she went to her man to take the wad of cash he held out.

“Mav’s sendin’ Marisol over this way, meet her out front,” DT said.

“Okay, love you.” She leaned over and kissed her man who sat near his latest rebuild. He gave her a slap on the ass as she headed out the front door.

For the time being, the boneyard was quiet, and it was just me and him, sitting it out for a minute while things were just starting to pick up across the street in the club.

“Tic sure had a mouth on him, today didn’t he?” Dump Truck said casually.

“Knock his fucking lights out he keeps it up,” I said and took a pull off my beer, emptying half of the fresh bottle in one giant swallow.

DT nodded. “Got attached to this girl awful damn quick, didn’t you?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him and fixed him with an otherwise flat look, staring at him hard. He chuckled and tossed down one of his socket wrenches with a clink.

“I’m not the one who dropped literally fuckin’ everything and went haring off to fuckin’ Vegas after a woman I only fucked once as a one-night-stand.”

“Touché, motherfucker. Touché,” he said chuckling. “I just wanna know, you thinkin’ about the long term with her?”

“I am,” I said carefully.

“Think she’s cut out for this life?” he asked evenly, tone a little too neutral for my tastes.

“She’s different,” I admitted. “A citizen, sure,” I said. “But there’s more than that underneath. She’s got spirit. A soul trapped in there yearning for something else, wanting to be free. It’s like I just gotta show her the way without letting her get too… I don’t know, overwhelmed? She’s been burned in the worst way. The rug pulled out from under her. Everyone she’s loved either dying or straight up abandoning her when she needed them the most.”

Dump Truck nodded slowly. “Club would be a good fit for her in that regard,” he said slowly. I nodded. “You sure she can hang, though?”

“Worried about her citizen morals?” I asked.

“Ah, yeah. Would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t. You know the rest of the guys’ll be thinkin’ it, too. She’s awful fuckin’ white bread for the lot of us.”

Again, I fixed him with a hard look. Motherfucker was one to talk. Little Bird’s ass had started out as a spoiled little rich girl.

The shiny had been taken off of her real quick, though. Baptism by fuckin’ fire when DT had blown her husband’s head off for her. Right in front of her, too. Not that she would miss that abusive rapist pig. I wished I’d been there to carve that son of a bitch up myself; slow.

I closed my eyes briefly against the blood on my hands, slick. The stench of death, the sound the organs made as I’d dropped them into the toilet, the flush, watching them spool out of the SOB’s body cavity as they went down the fuckin’ john.

It’d taken several attempts and cutting his insides up into smaller pieces to get it all down the fuckin’ toilet. It’d been worth the time and effort.

I got ‘em Lacy. Every last fuckin’ one of those assholes.

The first kill was the hardest and had stuck with me the longest. The one I still flashed back to. The one where I saw red, every time, and wanted to do it all over again. The one I’d done on my own. The rest, my pops had joined me on.

While there was guilt, it was misplaced. I didn’t feel guilty for killing any of them. I felt guilty that I’d done each and every one of ‘em too quickly for what they’d done to my sister.

---