Take Me, Outlaw(77)

Giggles looked like he'd aged about fifty years and I remembered that he'd never even been a real doctor, just a nurse. Digging out bullets and sewing up holes was one thing, but amputating limbs must have been harrowing for him.



“I'm pretty sure the operation was a success,” Giggles told us wearily, “but I'll have to keep a close eye on him to make sure infection doesn't set in. He's going to need a lot more rest for his body to fight it off, so try to keep this Q&A session as short as possible.” He turned to Growler, patting him on the shoulder. “And hey, try to be a little less careless with your body parts from now on, okay, big guy?”



Growler chuckled silently and gave him the finger with his remaining hand.



Giggles left and Bard leaned over Growler, showing him the blackboard and chalk again. “Do you feel up to answering a couple more questions for us?”



Growler nodded and took the chalk. Bard held up the board for him.



“Okay,” Bard began. “The place where they were keeping you. Do you remember where it was?”



Growler wrote on the board. “Naperville. Big white house. Corner of Oswego and River Road.”



“Fancy digs,” I muttered.



“Nothing but the best for the Bonaccorsos,” Bard answered tersely. “Growler, was Giovanni there too?”



Growler wrote four more words. “First day. Not after.”



“Shit,” I snapped. I should have known that would be too easy. And Giovanni would have been too smart to leave any clues at the house where he'd kept Growler, especially after Growler escaped. “Did you overhear anyone saying anything about where he was staying?”



Growler thought for a long moment, then wrote on the board again. “Charles Bunker.”



Bard and I exchanged a confused look. “Charles Bunker?” Bard asked. “Who is that, Growler? Did they say?”



Growler shrugged and shook his head sadly.



Bard started to pace the room nervously, typing on his cell phone screen. “There are fourteen Charles Bunkers in Illinois, with six of them in Chicago. What's this person's involvement? It's not as though we can go through the phone book calling each one and asking if they happen to be hiding a gangster. For all we know, Charles Bunker could even be an alias. We could be chasing our tails with this name for days.”



I snapped my fingers as the clues suddenly fell into place. “What if Charles Bunker isn't a person? What if it's a place?”



“Go on,” Bard prompted.



“There used to be a bunch of old military bunkers and missile silos all over the state back when the Cold War was still a thing,” I said. “After the Soviets went kaput, most of them were shut down and all the computers and shit were taken out, so they were basically just a bunch of big empty concrete holes. One of them is up near Mount Charles at the Indiana border. In high school, my friends and I used to go up there on weekends to fuck around. It'd be a perfect place for someone like Giovanni to hide out.”



Bard looked at me, clearly impressed. “Well done, Nic.”



Growler gave me a thumbs-up and then slapped his fingertips against his palm lightly, over and over. For a moment I thought he was asking us to hand him something. Then I realized he was trying to clap one-handed.



“So now what, Bard?” I asked. “What's our next chess move?”



Bard shook his head. “No more chess moves. No more games. We're going to ride, we're going to fight, we're going to kill, and if we have to, we're going to die. But one way or another, this ends tonight.”



“Good,” I said. I grabbed the sides of Growler's head, looking into his eye. “And Growler, you have my word that if there's any way at all we can grab that son of a bitch Giovanni alive, we're bringing him back here and you can do whatever the goddamn hell you want to him. You can off him quick, or you can make that shit last for days if you want to. His fat ass belongs to you.”



Growler banged his hand on the table in agreement, baring his teeth in a snarl.



Sperm knocked on the door and walked in. He was pale and slack-jawed, and I realized he was having trouble looking me in the eye. “Guys, uhh...we got another package.”



I turned to look at Growler. “They take anything off you that we didn't already know about?”



Growler looked down at his own body as though he was making sure, and then shook his head.



“Bard, has anyone else gone missing?” I asked.



“I've been checking with each group of Reapers every hour,” Bard answered, sounding confused. “They've barely even been going to the bathroom alone, and they haven't left their safe houses in groups of less than three. So far, everyone seems to be fine.”



Then what the hell did they send us? I thought.



Bard and I walked out of the back room and into the bar. A small, narrow box was waiting on a table near the front door. We'd stopped checking these things for bombs long ago. Clearly, that wasn't Giovanni's style.



I opened the box and a lock of hair slid out. I recognized the color and scent immediately.



It was Lauren's.



A note was wrapped around it. “Keep Growler. We've found someone prettier to play with! Guess which parts we'll cut off her next?”



My body suddenly felt sick and feverish, and for a moment I thought I'd throw up or pass out. The room was spinning around me and everything seemed to be growing darker. My stomach felt like someone had wrapped greasy chain around it and was pulling it tight. My jaw throbbed with pain and I realized I was clenching my teeth until they ached.



I'd never known a rage so all-consuming and murderous. Most of it was directed at myself for being stupid enough to believe Caleb when he said the Bonaccorsos hadn't known who Lauren was or where she lived.



She was in trouble now because of me. And not just because she'd gotten involved with me to begin with. No, it was because earlier this very day, I had simply let her walk away like I was some kind of idiot instead of doing everything in my power to keep her safe. Even if it had meant taking her to a safe house and locking her in like some kind of prisoner. Even if she'd ended up hating me for it.



If I had, at least she'd be safe now. My baby would be safe too.



So yeah, most of my rage went toward hating myself.



But I still had plenty left over to kill every last motherfucker who stood between me and Lauren.



I turned to Bard. “Do you still have the Pig stashed behind the bar?”



He nodded.



“Good,” I said. “We're gonna need it and every other gun we've got.”





Chapter Twenty-Nine



Bard



It was easy to see how badly the package had messed with Nic's head, as it was obviously supposed to. Giovanni had probably expected us to figure out his location based on the intel Growler had given us. As I'd said to Nic, Giovanni hadn't initially counted on a prolonged war with us and he almost certainly wanted it over as much as we did.



Giovanni wouldn't run and find another place to hide out once he knew we were coming. He'd lose the respect of his own people, not to mention every other organized crime syndicate in the Midwest. So the only thing left for him to do would be to surround himself with all the guns and enforcers he had and wait for the final showdown.



But Giovanni always preferred to keep an ace up his sleeve as a contingency plan. In this case, it looked like that meant goading Nic beforehand so he'd be too rattled to think straight and rush in blindly.



So far, based on the pure rage I saw burning in Nic's eyes, it seemed like a pretty good plan on Giovanni's part. I knew that even if we could come up with a solid plan of attack, it would be hard to rein Nic in and make sure he stuck to it.



I was enraged too, but I had more experience controlling my anger. Still, I was sickened by the thought of Nic finding love and fatherhood, only to lose it all at the hands of a scumbucket like Giovanni.



I'd told Nic that when it came to parents and their children, it was important to never say never. I believed that and I always had, other than the single glaring exception that I was far too acquainted with myself.



During the time that I'd served with Delta, I was married to Marlene. She was beautiful and funny, and a lot smarter than I was, which was what I loved about her the most. During one of my tours of duty, she emailed me to tell me that I was going to be a father. It was one of the happiest days of my life and I immediately arranged for a furlough so I could be back in the states when Marlene gave birth.



In the meantime, there was a Skype session so I could see the ultrasound, and dizzyingly-long email chains about what we'd name her and what college she'd go to and what she'd grow up to be.



And then I came home to spend the final month of the pregnancy with Marlene. Two weeks later, she started to cramp and bleed and I rushed her to the hospital. The baby came prematurely and only lived for six hours before dying from complications. I sank into depression and Marlene left me less than a year later. When I went on my next mission for Delta, I lost control of the rage that had been boiling inside of me for so long and disobeyed orders, beating an important enemy combatant to death with the butt of my rifle instead of taking him alive for questioning.



The dishonorable discharge came next. With no family and no military career left, joining the MC that my own father had helped to start seemed like the only option left to me.