Chapter 4: Ruger

Chapter Four

Ruger

I feel even more irritated by their presence than I thought possible. Quin looks like she’s seen a damn ghost. Tanner looks like he’s going to gut me like a rainbow trout. They’re both a distraction from… Zayna.

Then the baby starts crying and I feel the color rush to my face. I don’t know what the fuck happened to me but ever since this baby came, when I hear her crying I go crazy.

“Whose fucking baby is that?”

“Mine,” I growl at Tanner, storming over to the kitchen and nearly shoving him out of the way. I haven’t fed her in a while, but she was napping and I didn’t think I had to. My heart thumps nervously as I grab one of the bottles I prepared. I’m not doing a perfect job, but I know she has to make it another week or so before I can be confident in my job as a midwife.

“You don’t have a child,” Tanner says.

“Well, now he does,” Quin mutters. “Is that really the biggest problem here?”

I wish Quin and her stupid husband would start fucking bickering. Zayna is quiet, which I like. I don’t think she likes me. Most black people don’t. I grab the formula and try to get past Tanner again. The big red-headed donkey stands in front of my only path to Oske’s bedroom – which I converted to a baby room.

“You are not getting anywhere near that baby until you give me a complete breakdown of what went on here.”

“YOU WILL NOT STOP ME FROM SEEING MY DAUGHTER.”

I shove Tanner so hard out of the fucking way that he doesn’t know what hit him. I storm down the hallway, my heart pounding aggressively. I half expect to fall to my knees before I get to the bedroom. Because under any circumstances that level of disrespect to another club member, especially a senior club member, would be punishable by death.

But I open the door and feel some relief flooding through me once I shut it behind me and the world is just me and my daughter. I’m sorry for what I did to Darlene, but I tried my best and it wasn’t my fault those assholes came for her. It wasn’t my fault what I did…

I haven’t given the little girl a name yet, but every fiber of my being propels forward with the powerful need to protect her. Logically, I know she isn’t mine, but my heart apparently disagrees. Tanner allows me to push him — I know nothing could stop him from throwing his fist into his face except his own desires. But I would have fought him to the death to get to my baby girl.

The pressure on my chest experiences a smidge of relief when I see her and I feel this surge of something strange and good once I pick her up. Even if she smells like rotten ass cheeks. Her ability to turn perfectly clean nappies into sopping wet balls of shit never ceases to amaze me. We’ve already gone through so fucking many that I’ll have to drive out to the general store and get more tomorrow morning.

Tanner, Quin and the sexy dark girl — though not that dark I guess — sure enough come stomping in behind me.

The whole world disappears once I hold the baby. She stops crying once her skin presses to mine. Like somehow, the warmth of my chest makes her feel better. It almost makes me laugh. If there were any thoughts in that soft ass head of hers, she wouldn’t feel so safe in the arms of a monster.

“I have to change her diaper,” I whisper, as if there were any chance of her being asleep after blowing out her fucking lungs like that.

“Where the fuck did you get that baby?” Tanner asks. I can tell he’s trying to stay calm despite the tone of his ‘where the fuck’. And does his ass really need to ask? There was only one baby the last time he saw me and it was trapped inside Darlene. Quin has it figured out. I can’t hear what she’s whispering, but the fact that she’s whispering tells me she knows.

And it scares the shit out of her. I don’t look behind me, but I sense Zayna’s presence regardless. Not what she’s doing. But she’s close. I like that.

Tanner clears his throat as I take my daughter to her changing station. She produces some of the most disgusting dumps I have ever seen in my fucking life. Or smelled.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Tanner asks, his voice finally dropping that fucking attitude.

“Yes. I’ve been changing her since she was born.”

“When was she born?” Quin asks. She’s scared shitless. I can hear it in her voice. Poor girl. I can’t imagine being stuck with someone self-righteous like Tanner Hollingsworth. He doesn’t gamble much, barely parties… the man is almost saintly for a biker. It’s unnatural. I make it a practice to get into at least twelve bar fights a year. I never failed since I set the goal for myself.

If Taco Bell fights count too.

“She’s forty-eight hours old,” I answer. It might be true. I’ll admit I had to stay high as fuck to clean up the mess, and the shit with the heads was some methed up idea I had… I should stay away from the stuff. The shit I do on meth is clearly making Tanner worry. But I stayed up long enough to keep giving the girl fresh bottles. I was scared shitless that her lips were too blue.

But they turned pink when she was twenty hours old. I did a little more meth and… it’s been enough to keep shit running smoothly over here, but I’m uneven. Not keeping good track of time. I could use some help.

“What are you going to do about this?” Tanner asks. “I should call Wyatt.”

“This is my personal business.”

“The heads?”

“Oh yeah. Tell Wyatt about that. I nailed their patches to the stakes so you can get an ID.”

“You are so fucked up,” Tanner breathes. Genuine hatred on his breath. I bet he regrets not saddling Gideon with this mission. Giddy Giddy Gideon. He would be madder than a wolverine that accidentally mounted a porcupine.

“Yeah. A little bit.”

Everybody in the room stays quiet, like they think I’m too mentally challenged to change a diaper in anything other than complete silence. Then again, maybe they’re just scared. I couldn’t really blame them. This shit is beyond fucked up… even for me.

“Take Zayna outside,” Tanner murmurs to Quin. She doesn’t protest, which surprises me. I always thought black women ran their mouth whenever they got the chance. Juliette? Tamiya? Neither of them know when to shut up. Joslin is only quiet because she’s from the Philippines, or has the heritage in her blood or some of that shit.

Race is very real, no matter what new ideas have hit the club these days. I don’t think I could ever change my thoughts on it… I don’t know. I’ve seen too much dark shit that I can’t make sense of except looking at it the way I do.

Call it ignorant all you want. But I call it honest.

And white folks aren’t perfect either. I just don’t think we ought to feel sorry for it. Why the hell should anyone feel sorry for anything?

Why should we feel anything at all?

Once the women leave, I’m done with the diaper. Tanner exhales with some mixture of relief and frustration. Whatever he wants to get off his chest won’t leave.

“I don’t need the club involved in this.”

“Oske will be back here in two days. She’s going to lose her fucking mind if the Indians haven’t told her already…”

He’s implying that she could already be on her way armed with a shotgun or some other crazy weapon of choice. Oske has told me several times that the only thing preventing her from ending my life is opportunity and convenience. Tanner might have a point about not pissing her off.

“Then I’ll leave.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to leave this fucking mess?”

“The heads were overkill. I get it.”

I don’t get what he wants me to say. I handled my business fine and maybe I got a little artistic in the process but… it’s no different from any other work I had to do in the past. This time, the work just got a little personal. Judging by the expression on Tanner’s face, he finds this more disgusting and bothersome than anything else.

“Are you fucked in the head?” he asks me calmly, as if using the same tone you would to talk to livestock with will make the question go down more easily.

I shrug. I won’t apologize, that’s for sure. “I was on meth.”

“So yes,” Tanner mutters, clearly searching me for some sign of emotion about what I’ve done. He won’t find it. Maybe I shouldn’t have done any of the meth, but I’m not sorry about the murders. If that makes me fucked in the head by Tanner’s estimates… fine.

“Yes,” I answer. Fine.

“Darlene?” Tanner asks. Meaning, “Where is she and please tell me she isn’t dead”. Which she is, of course.

“Won’t come back.”

“That baby isn’t yours.”

“The government doesn’t know that.”

“Are you going to–

I glare at him.

“She’s mine. I’ll be looking after her.”

“Okay. Call Gideon.”

“I want help.”

I notice the flicker of irritation across Tanner’s face and try to hide my joy. I know he’ll agree to what I want once he realizes I’m not asking for Barbarian resources.

“With what? I’m up to my ass in my own problems. Like identifying your kills for one thing.”

“That black chick. She could help with the baby.”

“Right.”

“I’m not sick,” I tell him. “She can keep an eye on me. I’ll give her a phone and shit. Then you won’t have to bother Wyatt.”

“You can’t hurt her.”

“I’m not racist,” I snap. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I never said you were…” Tanner mutters. “And… Quin won’t like this but honestly… You’re right. I need someone to watch you and she won’t run. Not after seeing what type of a fuck up you are.”

“Yeah.”

I hold the baby close to my chest. I can feel her getting wriggly again.

“Where are you going?” Tanner asks. “I’ll have to tell Wyatt.”

“My house. Elk City.”

“Good,” Tanner says. “That way anything happens back here, it’s only a few hours.”

“Have a drink before you leave.”

“I’ll need a drink to assess your carnage,” Tanner snaps.

The baby squirms again.

“I’ll put her to bed,” I tell him. “Tell the girl she’s staying with me.”

Tanner smirks. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”