Page 35 of Amy's Santa

“I’d have fuckin’ killed them.” Drummer’s lips curve.

“If Wizard knew, he might stop us,” I add my two-cents’ worth. “I can’t let this fuckin’ lie, Brothers, I just can’t. Fuck, the damage that’s been done to her, I’m not sure she can find a way back from it.”

“Amy will get there,” says Blade firmly. “What she needs is a good man beside her to build her back up.”

I put my head in my hands, drawing my fingers down my face.Will that be Xander and is he up to the job?

“Heart?”

Slowly I shake my head, remembering. “She could have had a fuckin’ good man beside her, but I warned him off early on.”

“She was seventeen at the time, Brother. Not even legal.”

“She saw him plowing one of the sweet butts,” Mouse reminds me. “Wasn’t long after she left for Phoenix. Wasn’t your fault. Down to Wizard if you want to put the blame on anyone.”

I grimace. “Yeah, well I might have set that up. Backfired spectacularly.”

“No,” Drummer contradicts, pausing in front of me. “She was too young, there was too big an age difference. Going away to college was the best thing that happened to her. Allowed her to spread her wings, become a woman we can all be proud of.”

“Until it all went wrong,” I remind him.

“Who says she wouldn’t have gone to a kink club in Tucson?” Wraith suggests. “There’s always a risk there’ll be someone in that type of place with the wrong motive.”

I stand, move swiftly to the armchair he’s sitting in and leaning my hands on the arms either side of him rasp, “You saying it’s her fault because of the places she likes to frequent?”

“Whoa.” Wraith raises his hands in surrender. “Walking down the street can be fuckin’ dangerous. And the only fuckin’ fault lies with that motherfucker, Flint. None with her.”

Slightly appeased, I straighten.

Drummer claps his hands to get us to listen to him, well, all he can do without a gavel and table. “So, we’re agreed we take him out, and that we doing it on the QT.”

“Tomorrow,” Wraith suggests, with a quick grin, “we’re just old-timers wanting to go for a Boxing Day ride while all our brothers are sleeping off today’s overindulgences.”

His old lady, Sophie, was originally surprised the day after Christmas wasn’t an official holiday in the United States. Must admit those Brits have got it right, after eating too much and heavily drinking, let alone the partying, not many people are up for much after Christmas Day. Over the years her approach has rubbed off on us, and we all put down our tools and don’t pick them back up until we get back to work the day after.

“I like that plan,” says Drummer, his lips curving up in a grin. The one you don’t want to be on the wrong end of. “Ten a.m.?”

“Wait, we need to find Flint’s whereabouts…”

Mouse looks to the ceiling and back down. “Tracking his phone, Brother.”

Of course he is. But I’ve another concern. “What if he’s with his wife and family?”

“We draw him out.”

Easy to suggest, but how would we get to him. “Saying what?”

“Blade, your knife skills still good getting air out of tyres?”

Blade snarls, “Of course they fuckin’ are.”

His knife throwing skills have only been honed over the years. Not the first time he’s slashed tyres at a distance.

We let Mouse keep the floor, all leaning forward to hear what he’s planning.

He doesn’t disappoint. “Took a good look at where he lives.” Leaning forward, he repositions some drink mats and glasses. “Here’s where he keeps his car, around the side of the house where there’s a blind spot. High hedges between his and the houses either side, and a privacy fence out front. We slash his tyres, and one of us goes to the house and like any good passerby tells him they saw kids doing it and running off.”

“He comes out to check the damage and we nab him.” Peg’s looking animated now. He tugs at his beard. “Need the crash truck.” He raises his eyebrows at Drummer.

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