Page 60 of Justice for Radar

“It’s a personal one, but you know how we operate and Cutterdoesknow I’m callin’ you. He’s the one that actually suggested it.”

“Right, then. I do believe we as a club could use some hospitality come this spring break, if you know what I mean.”

I grinned, “We’ll gladly roll out the red carpet for you guys anytime.”

“Well, thank you kindly. You best be hittin’ the road now,” he said.

“Copy that, thanks again, Ruth.”

“Ah huh, bye bye now.” He hung up and Atlas and I exchanged a look.

“We just got off hella easy,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

“You know how rowdy Ruth and his boys get, we’re gonna be making shit up to the town after that weekend for a month or better.”

“They may get rowdy but the last time they came through to hang they kept it to the tourists.”

“True, fair enough.”

Still, I’d make sure my girls were clear of the town or in Kraken tees the whole damn time to make sure the boys of the Bastards kept their hands to themselves.

“How long are we looking at?” I asked, looking over Atlas’ shoulder at the screen.

“Like sixteen hours.”

“Fuck, that’s a case of monkey butt waiting to happen,” I said and slung my pack up on my shoulder.

“Uh-huh, ain’t nothing for it. Gonna call her now?”

“No, let her sleep,” I answered. “At least one of us should be rested, you know?”

“That I surely do,” he answered.

We hit the road.

20

Justice…

A knock fell at my door and I clicked through screens on my computer and brought up my doorbell camera.

Two men stood on my front step, motorcycles gleaming in the background at the end of my drive at the curb, but neither one of them were Radar. In fact, I had no idea who either of these men were. All I knew was they were terrifying to look at, really. One of them was bald, his head and neck heavily tattooed, his face clean of ink except for little tattoos I couldn’t make out at the corner of each eye. Even his hands were heavily tatted where they peeked out of the sleeves of his heavy biker jacket.

The other man who stood behind him to one side, facing out onto my street was narrow and shifty looking. The back of his jacket showed a skull in a big purple top hat, it’s one green eye magnified by a monocle, a cigar clutched between its teeth.Voodoo Bastardswas emblazoned above the skull in what Radar had called a top rocker, while down below it proclaimed them as being from New Orleans… but what were they doing here?

“Can I help you?” I asked through the system.

“Justice?”

My mouth suddenly felt dry.

“Can I help you?” I repeated, not wishing to confirm or deny who it was they were speaking to. I held my phone in my hand prepared to call the police.

“My name’s La Croix and this here is Collier, we was sent down here by your man Radar out there with the Kraken MC.”

“Just one moment.”

I immediately called Radar, but his phone just rang and rang and went to voicemail.

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