Road Refugees (A Motorcycle Club Romance) Page 12

  And they weren’t puppies, tossed as if an unwanted pregnancy. These were adult dogs, and all of the same breed, Leonbergers if I had to guess, like black and blonde Newfoundlands. Sweet dogs. Wolf’s rescue dog Beetle was thought to be part Leonberger. I looked at Heaven, sharing her look of horror.

  “If they’re grown like this,” I said, “that means they were part of a breeding program.”

  “Backyard breeders,” she agreed. She admirably didn’t display any nausea.

  I added, “Places where they stack them in cages.”

  She handled one of the legs. “The legs don’t seem developed enough. You could be right. They might be all girls. Breeders.”

  Linus bravely sat in the shallows of the creek and looked from the corpses to us, then back to the corpses. He wanted us to do something about this.

  “What can we do?” I asked no one in particular.

  “Well,” huffed Heaven, “we need to find out who did this.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “That shouldn’t be too hard with the Bare Bones behind us. Right now, my angel, I want you to get out of this creek. Come on. I’ll send Wolf, Slappy and Crybaby back to dispose of these bodies. I don’t want you to have to think about them.”

  Heaven took my hand and we started climbing the slight rise of creek bed. But Linus was having none of it. He kept barking a bit upriver, pointing his nose at something.

  “Oh, all right,” I said reluctantly. “You stay here.”

  I had to slide down the piney slope again, then sloshed against the splashing current in my Dingo boots, following the nimble Linus.

  He stopped, looking down, then at me, then down. I got the picture.

  “Good boy,” I said over and over as I hauled myself up using a tree limb. Linus had found another dog lying in the shallows. Only this one was panting.

  “Heaven! She’s alive!” I shouted and bent to pick up the dog. Fucknuts, this girl is heavy. A hundred pounds, more if you counted the water dripping from her ribcage and paws. What had once been exquisite blonde fur receding into chestnut and black waves were now just dull mats. My recent weightlifting was not enough to carry this limp gal, and my shame at my disability swept over me once more.

  But before you could say joint bank account, Heaven was skimming down the slope to help me, saving what little face I had left.

  I said, “I see no blood. The asshole must’ve thought she was dead and dumped her with the rest. She climbed about twenty yards up that creek.”

  “Can I help?”

  I struggled to stand upright. “Maybe you can lift her head. Are her eyes open?”

  “Yes!”

  Heaven tucked my cane under her arm and raised the massive head. Even so, we struggled up the slippery rise and staggered back to camp. She cooed at the poor dog’s nose and squealed when the dog opened her mouth and licked her.

  “If these were breeding dogs,” I said, “their legs are going to be somewhat lame. We’ll have to work to build her up.”

  “That’s okay! I can do it! Just following me around in my chores should be enough for her.”

  “If she lives, Heaven. In addition to weakness, she’s probably hugely malnourished.”

  “We have all that great food for Linus and Beetle. In fact, you know what I’ll call her? Mickey Finn.”

  “No!”

  “Yes! This will show that I’m totally over what happened in Cornucopia. It doesn’t bother me to hear the words Mickey Finn all the time.”

  I had to smile. “Okay, Heaven. Let’s not get carried away now. One step at a time.”

  But I knew if Heaven had already named her, there was no going back on this puppy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heaven

  “Yeah, that’s the work of Byron Riddlesberger, all right.”

  Tanner Principato was a surly, gruff, manly sort. I was beginning to think all Bare Boners were like that, aside from maybe Wolf Glaser. Tanner was the guy who’d owned Paws-n-Gauze, the airlifting service for injured rescue dogs. When he wasn’t at med school, he helped his wife run Hang Town Ranch somewhere nearby. Townshend had visited there once. It was a refuge for battered dogs, so of course Town had immediately called Tanner when we’d reached the log cabin. He came out with his wife Unity, an inked spokeswoman for the cannabusiness. The people one met in Arizona! Mickey Finn was resting comfortably in our mudroom on top of a crazy amount of blankets Town threw at us. She was breathing fast and shallow, but I felt all of her major bones and didn’t find anything broken.

  Linus had nipped at our heels the entire way home. Now he had bedded down near Mickey, not close enough to annoy her, but to tell her he was there for her. Mickey could not look at us, maybe associating us with her former torturers. If we came close, she lifted her nose to the ceiling, making us mentally vanish. I realized everything is new to her. Even lying in a room without bars was new. She listlessly lapped up water I gave her but proceeded to pee her blankets. She did not know how to go outdoors. I guessed her to be about three years old, some of her limbs crooked from the cramped cage. Unity was with her now as we all convened in the living room. It wasn’t cold, but I was stoking a fire just to be doing something—to create a homey atmosphere, I suppose. I was good at that, and not much else.

  But not all Arizonans were outstanding. Tanner was just confirming that Riddlesberger was, once more, the culprit in a lowdown and deadly scheme.

  Town gestured. “Lytton told me a few weeks ago that the Friends of Distinction don’t push up on you in your territory.”

  “True,” Tanner barked. He seemed more of an army officer than Town, the gold-hearted man who wouldn’t hurt a spider. “They don’t interfere with us. And their power base is Flagstaff now, I fucking suppose. But yeah, that colossal asswad has some property, if you take the exit for Highway Lake, it’s up there. Mostly Leonbergers like this one.”

  I had seen that turnoff. It made my skin crawl thinking of Riddlesberger so close by.

  Tanner continued, “Maybe Lytton didn’t want to blow your mind, seeing as how you’re so close to your service dog. Maybe he thought it wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t come up.”

  Town’s eyes flashed. “Boy, did it come up. Tanner, you’ve got to see the destruction this colossal asswad created. He could’ve given those dams to the humane society.”

  “Or to us,” growled Tanner. “That’s what we fucking created Hang Town Ranch for. To rehab injured and abused animals.”

  I interrupted. I wasn’t accustomed to butting into the conversations of men, but I knew different rules applied with bikers. “Do you know a scrotum named Billy ‘Stomach’ Ginsburg? He’s almost a bigger scrotum than Riddlesberger.”

  Tanner nodded, serious, hands clasped between his knees. “I know that scrotum. He used to come into town from Highway Lake, once to get some ink at Knoxie’s shop. We ran him out on a fucking rail.”

  I wrapped my arms around my torso, looking at the ground. “He was the one who pulled me into that abandoned bar in Flag.”

  Town sat even straighter. “Does he have a shaven head with a giant scar?”

  I gasped. “That’s him!”

  Town said, “After you left the bar—”

  “When you saved my life,” I interjected.

  “—Navarro, Fred Birdseye, and Funkhauser came busting in, shooting up the place. Someone hit that dirtbag, not sure where, but he went down like a bomb. He might not even be alive anymore.”

  “I’d of heard about it,” Tanner said with assurance.

  Town pushed on. “If he’s been exited, they have a reason to have their eyes on us.”

  “You know what?” Wolf Glaser interjected. “I’ve had it up to here with these twatwaffles pushing up on us like this. It’s time we pushed back. They’ve already basically claimed Flag as their turf. They’ve been shitting on us from a great height for a long time now.”

  “I know,” agreed Tanner. “But it’d create a huge clusterfuck if we just barged on in there taking everyon
e to the ground. We need a subtler approach.”

  Wolf nodded. “We need Santiago Slayer.”

  Tanner lifted his chin at Wolf, indicating his agreement. Right off the bat, Wolf stood and whipped his cellphone out, walking toward the back sliding door.

  Santiago Slayer? Was that a real person? Didn’t having a name like that make him the center of attention?

  Crybaby said, “I thought Slayer was acting in telenovelas in Mexico City. Using the name Santiago Segovia.”

  “He was,” said Wolf. “But his posting of backstage antics with actresses on Instagram gave him too much exposure. The wife of someone he smoked recognized him from the hit, so he had to go back underground. Tanner’s probably telling Tobiah to post an ad in Craigslist.”

  I asked the logical question. “What is Craigslist?”

  Wolf explained. “It’s where you post things for sale, houses for rent, that sort of shit. Whenever we need to find him, we post an obscure, mysterious message on Craigslist. Something like, ‘Need Radioactive Waste? We need you!’ And we have him call a burner phone.”

  “Seriously?” Town and I both said at the same time, gaping. I went to sit next to Town on the couch, surprised when he put his arm around me in front of everyone.

  Wolf said, “Serious as a barroom brawl. He has an agreement with Amtrak that he doesn’t board at the station, but he jumps on when it’s moving slowly out.”

  Why was I the only one not laughing like a sheep? I mean, these men, including Town, were gurgling like drains at the antics of Santiago Slayer. How could they laugh? This poor man was on the run! He had some “subtler approach” to Byron Riddlesberger? Was he a financial man? Was he somehow going to reason with Riddlesberger?

  “Oh man!” gasped Slappy. “That’s rich! I’ve got to meet this guy.” He was looking at his phone as he chortled, and his expression suddenly went blank. “What?” he whispered. Without tearing his eyes from his phone, he rose slowly from the couch as though in a trance, willing himself to be weightless.

  Town shook so hard with laughter he was jiggling me. I didn’t move because I was proud he had his arm around me. That kiss he’d laid on me in the woods when I was coming to, that had just floored me. How was such a sexy man not snapped up by some woman more capable than me? His warm and lusty moves were those of an honest and experienced man, someone who deserved more than a stupid farm woman! I swear, when he clamped my nipple between his teeth I nearly came to orgasm. How was that even possible? My gash was just dripping with juices, and when I gripped his thigh with mine and humped, the orgasmic flutters rolled up my inner channel. And I was barely moving!

  Imagine what would happen if this man touched my bare skin?

  And now here I was, like any ordinary spouse, sitting next to this exemplary piece of manhood on a couch, my head practically resting on his shoulder.

  Slappy smacked his own forehead. “What the fuck?” He finally tore his eyes from his phone in order to turn it around and shove it in Wolf’s direction. “What did you do, you motherfucking numbnuts?”

  Wolf frowned with annoyance. “What do you mean,” he stated.

  “Fuck off and die, you ass gasket!”

  “Hey, hey,” said Town, slicing his hands through the air.

  Wolf looked blandly at all of us, shrugging. He mouthed something that looked like “I have no idea.”

  Slappy stood like an umpire calling a fair ball. “When you took my phone to fix it so I could text my wife!”

  Rolling his eyes, Wolf stood. It was evident that Slappy was much wider and buffer than him, but Wolf seemed to have no fear. Maybe that was his value to the Bare Bones. “Look, if you just give me somewhat of an idea what you’re referring to . . . I did a tower dump to find your wife’s location and—”

  Slappy’s voice could be heard echoing down the mountain. “And blathered our conversation to every single person in my address book!”

  Town stood, taking the phone out of Slappy’s hand as he advanced on Wolf. “Ho, ho, there Slappy. Let Wolf explain before you go pounding on him.”

  Now Wolf looked seriously consternated. He didn’t seem to notice when Slappy grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and rattled him, he was so intent on getting the phone from Town. “What the . . . “

  Slappy shook him, then tossed him away. “It recorded our entire fucking conversation and sent it to half the people in my address book!”

  Town asked, “I thought it was everyone?”

  Slappy instantly calmed to the level of a roaring jet plane. “Well, maybe a quarter. Looks like everyone in my family group.”

  I ventured to say, “I hope you weren’t saying anything too embarrassing.”

  “Well, no,” sputtered Slappy, “unless you count ‘Heaven sure is a sexy wench’ as being too embarrassing.”

  I blushed. It was embarrassing, but in a good way. “Did you really say ‘wench’?”

  Tanner slapped his thigh with amusement. “Good one, buddy! And what else did you say? You might as well tell us, since we’re all going to find out anyway.”

  Crybaby said, “Or his family will.”

  “Hold it, hold it,” yelled Wolf, brandishing the phone aloft. “I think I’ve got a fucking answer to this.”

  The room settled. All you could hear were some embers in the fireplace cracking and falling.

  “Lookie here,” Wolf still yelled, although he didn’t need to. “It recorded our conversation.”

  “No shit, Sherlock!” blared Slappy. “How the fuck did it do that? No one said ‘Alexa.’”

  Wolf finally chuckled. It was amazing how lightly he was taking the sight of this giant goon brimming with fury. “In a way, we did. You said here Heaven has sexy knees, and Echo woke up because it sounded like ‘Alexa please.’”

  Town guffawed, slapping Slappy on the chest with the back of his hand. “Knees, seriously? I mean, I agree with you, but—”

  Slappy protested. “You hardly ever see her knees! She’s got on jeans, or some long-ass skirt from a Quaker reservation—”

  Wolf butted in. “So after it heard ‘Alexa please’ she must’ve said out loud ‘to whom?’ We didn’t hear it because your volume was down. We must’ve said something that sounded like your dad’s name or whatever. She said ‘Dad, right?’ And something else we said was interpreted as ‘right.’”

  Tanner suggested, “Like something Heaven has is tight.”

  “Oh, get out of town!” yelled Slappy. “What’re the odds of something like this happening?”

  Wolf shrugged. “It happened.”

  Crybaby suggested, “So now your dad knows she has sexy knees and a tight something.”

  Wolf was reading the mass text. “Tight tush.”

  It was my turn to yell. “My backside? Slappy, this went to your dad, your mom, your sister or whatever—”

  “Pretty much everyone.” Slappy looked sullen, like a Charlie Brown character moping.

  Wolf added, “He also talked about how his egg allergy made his elbows swell.”

  Slappy moaned, “For once, the stupid thing spells something right.”

  Unity came out from the mudroom. She was a stunning gal with a full suit of ink up to her neck, piercings decorating her lobes and nose. I dashed to her side to hear what she thought of Mickey Finn. She led me back as she spoke.

  “I think she’ll be fine. Her limbs never fully developed due to living in a fucking cage, but I’ve seen such animals walk on their own. Like Tanner said, I didn’t feel any broken bones.”

  “How is she right now? Is she dying to get outdoors and into freedom?”

  “You’d think so, but it’s usually the opposite with mill dogs. Come see. She’s awake but you can tell the fear in her eyes. I helped her to the litter box, and she did pee, but look.”

  Mickey was back on her bed of blankets, and when she saw us in the doorway, I swore if she had more energy she would’ve shot up to the ceiling. She trembled visibly, and we sat a few feet away on the wooden floor. I wished I
could’ve petted her, but I didn’t dare.

  Unity said, “These mill dogs will take time. You wonder if she had enough room to lie down over there. Was the bottom of her cage made of wire? Her teeth are broken like she tried to chew her way out of a cage or a chain. These skin infections might mean another dog was stacked on top of her, shitting on her. Hydrotherapy might help, you know, getting her weightless in a bathtub. It’ll be a big day when you can bring her up onto your bed. If you and Town sleep on the second floor, you should move your bedroom down here.”

  It took me a few seconds to realize she was talking about Town and me as a couple. Again I blushed. “Oh, we don’t sleep together. We’ve barely kissed.”

  It was Unity’s turn to look abashed. “Oh. Sorry to have presumed. I figured since he saved you . . . “

  “He’s definitely a hero. He may have all those medals, but to me his most courageous act was barging into that empty storefront in Flag and getting me the hell out of there.”

  “Definitely.” Unity nodded with vigor.

  “He has a huge capacity to understand human suffering. He doesn’t just dismiss my sorrow with platitudes. It’s so easy to fall prey to the burden of evil—”

  “Oh, don’t I know it.”

  “—and tumble into hopelessness and despair. He’s come so far in this world. I only hope I can be as strong as him.”

  “Ladies?”

  We both gasped with shock, giving Mickey a fright. My hand automatically went to her head to comfort her, but she scooted back from me.

  Town lowered his voice. “Oh God, sorry. I just wanted to let you know we’re heading out to bury those other dogs. Crybaby’s going out to rustle up some shroom business, so the four of us will be out there for awhile, maybe ‘til sunset. We’ll leave the dogs out back in the yard, so they don’t bug Mickey here. We don’t want them seeing the mill dogs.”