Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

MCQUADE

" I 've got eyes and ears on Remy," Patch told me. "I switched channels so he can focus on his target. What trouble would you two like to get into?"

"You have a high opinion of my plans," I commented, digging into my pockets for a crushed pack of cigarettes. I didn't smoke anymore. I used to, but I quit. Now and then though, it was a habit that came in handy.

Like now, standing under the hot summer sun, when I wanted to be a distraction. Locke gave me a piercing look, but I ignored it for now. Two of the cigarettes were crushed beyond usefulness but the third one was mostly intact.

I jammed it between my lips then patted myself down for a lighter. Fuck, what had I done with mine?

Locke flicked open a Zippo and lit it with two smooth motions. He held it up for me and I got the cigarette burning.

Mouthing it was shit and it tasted worse, but it served its purpose. I took a drag and then blew the smoke upward and away from Locke.

"Thanks," I said, then slid on a pair of sunglasses. The light seemed to be even more intense. Or maybe that was the addition of eyes on, and off, the street. I leaned against the side of the SUV while Locke affected an equally bored, and waiting expression.

"Since when do you smoke?" My sugar bear didn't usually call me out like that, so I figured she was due an answer.

"I started when I was sixteen, gave it up in boot camp, picked it back up again in my first war zone. Kept it up until I retired from active. Then decided to abandon it." I toked in another mouthful of smoke, then blew it out like I'd inhaled it. At this distance, they wouldn't notice.

"So we're smoking now to give you a reason to just stand in the parking lot?"

I grinned. "Checking us out, Sugar Bear?"

Locke snorted. "She can check me out any time she wants."

"Focus," I muttered and Locke chuckled. "Right, time to give them a headache. Go check out the vet's office. Get some bugs in there for Sugar Bear."

"Where are you going?" Locke rolled his head from side to side and dropped the bag from the grocery store in the back of the car.

"To take a walk to the far side. I want to check out what's on the other side of the sheriff's office and the mechanic's garage."

Locke gave me a sideways stare. "That's a hike if you get into trouble."

I smirked. "Didn't know you cared."

"I don't," he retaliated. "I'm just not a big fan of running."

I snorted.

"I have him, Justus," Patch comforted him. "I have you too. Watch your backs, and don't get dead."

"Yes, ma'am," I blew out the last bit of smoke before I ground the cigarette out. "Call me Sugar Lips again?"

Laughter drifted down the line. "Maybe after you brush your teeth."

I could do that.

The walk took me past several buildings we'd already visited and tagged. The sheriff wasn't standing out in front of his office anymore. But I made no mistake of thinking they weren't watching me. There were more locals out—some sweeping, others smoking like I had been and still more just sitting and watching.

Older guys could do that in small towns. It wasn't creepy at all. There'd been some towns like this back when I lived on base with my parents. Dad got moved, we moved with him. Some of those little towns had their own rules, a practical fiefdom.

They didn't like newcomers, but if you showed up, they beat the rules into you and you kissed the ring they wanted you to kiss. Unless the locals were fewer and farther between, then the brass ring might just be there for the taking

Yeah, this shit felt all too familiar and I hadn't been a fan of it then and I wasn't a fan of it now. I was almost to the mechanic's shop when I spotted him. The glimpse I'd gotten earlier seemed damn familiar.

That mother fucker being here changed the game.

"Don't freak out, Sugar Bear," I said quietly. "Running silent for a bit." Then I shut off the comm before she could respond. Not the most politic, but right now, I didn't want her as a part of this conversation.

Not with this asshole.

Not even by third hand proxy.

"John McQuade," the older man said as I approached. He stood there, practically at parade rest. His hair was still trimmed to military standard and his manner expected—no demanded— respect. "It's been a long time, son."

"Not long enough," I said, not bothering to add the "sir." He didn't deserve the respect. Not from me. Not from anyone.

"John, John, John…" He practically tsked. His men weren't quiet. They kicked up a lot of noise racing at me from behind. The retired general's expression didn't shift one iota from its bland smile as his guys hit me from two sides.

I took the hits, rolling with them. Right now, I wanted the information I could get out of them. Sometimes, you just had to take a hit.

"Bring him inside," the general ordered and the beating stopped almost immediately. Not that it was much of one. Fuckers had steel toed boots and they didn't use them. Good for me, but damn stupid on their part.

Each one grabbed an arm and lifted me up. I played dead weight, forcing them to do all the work as they dragged me inside. It didn't take long for them to remove my gun and hang me from the ceiling in shackles.

As techniques went, not bad. Definitely not efficient though. The strain of my weight would eventually dislocate my shoulders. In a few hours maybe… could take a whole day.

Once I was strung up, Abdias Stone, retired general and all around lunatic, strolled up to me. He had a cigar in one hand and he sported a new scar on his face. Almost improved his ugly ass mug.

"It seems we have a bit of a problem, John," he said, almost conversationally.

"Well, if you're looking for a light, ‘fraid I'm all out. But if you find one, I got cigarettes in my back pocket."

Stone's expression hardened. With a careless wave, he sent his goons toward me again. The big guy on the left had a wicked left, but his right was ass. Probably a shoulder wound, a tear… I could work with that. Every other blow managed to knock the breath out.

Second guy was a lot leaner, shorter, and all muscle. He had solid punches and he knew where my kidneys were better than I did. Probably gonna be pissing blood after this.

Better make it worth that.

"Enough," Stone said, and the men backed off immediately. Well trained little soldier boys. Yeah, I was never that trained. Following crazy because it gave you an order and had rank didn't make it any less crazy.

I twisted, my toes scraped against the floor of the mechanic's shop. The smell of old oil and grease gave it a familiar air. But then so did the cordite and sulfur. They weren't just working on cars in here.

"John," Stone said again. "I don't really want to spend a lot of time inflicting pain on you. I don't want to spend any time on you at all."

"That makes two of us. So, why don't I just head back to my car and we can go back to pretending we don't know each other."

The mad general gave me a small, thoroughly insincere smile. "That doesn't really work for me."

"It was worth a shot." I didn't try to stabilize myself. Instead, I just relaxed my muscles. The bruises along my abs and back were gonna hurt like a bitch. Better to give it a break for the moment.

"Of course, and I would have been insulted if you hadn't asked. Just as you would have been insulted if I allowed you to do so." He sounded perfectly reasonable, conversational almost. We might as well be discussing our plans for a meal. "Now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, I need you to answer some questions for me. You will cooperate."

"Despite all evidence to the contrary?" I leaned to the right and spat out a wad of blood. I'd cut the inside of my cheek apparently.

"You always were a stubborn boy. It disappointed your father, you know."

"Yeah well, he and I have been disappointing each other for nearly forty years. Why break from a good thing?"

"I thought you might have learned something since you left the military. Abandoned the path your father set for you… true patriots exist, you know. Not all are relics of a bygone era. Like your father…like you used to be.

"I used to be a lot of things. Haven't turned bat shit crazy this week. Still time, I suppose."

Stone didn't look impressed. Instead he gestured with his unlit cigar. "I am aware of your extra curricular activities. Your unsanctioned missions into enemy territory. Your work with refugees. You could be doing more for your own country, you know?"

I snorted, then asked in the boredest tone I could manage. "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted, a safe and secure country once more. I want to take it back from all the enemies who've invaded. It's not a straightforward war anymore, son. Now we bring them here. We save them, bring them in, house them, cloth them, and give them funds. We let the enemy in because the enemy has learned our greatest weakness."

"That we're cuckoo for cocoa puffs?"

The general waved his hand and his guys came at me again. The pummel of their fists threatened my ribs this time. Yeah, that wasn't working for me, I gripped the chains with my hands and caught the little guy with my legs.

Too late to help himself, he realized what I was doing. I locked my legs around him, squeezing the air out of him and with the right torque—I snapped his neck. He dropped unceremoniously and the guy with the weak shoulder retreated.

Hey, look, some fear in his eyes. Smart. Fear might let him live longer.

The general gave me a benign smile. "You are the best. Like your father. You know he and I planned all of this together… Sadly, he doesn't see that by letting in more and more of our enemies, we are literally trying to destroy ourselves from within. The people who want to defund us or shrink the military budget—worse criminalize the police and take all the guns. Who defends us then, John?"

There was crazy and then there was this guy. "Thought you and my father had a falling out."

"Difference of opinion. I know we can do something, he doesn't think that because we can, we should. Still, he helped me to build the apparatus."

Section Five.

I had no idea how he covered his crazy from the military for so long. Then again, he called his operation Section Five, maybe he was on to something. Stone wanted an ear in every household, and he wanted his finger on the pulse of every person, good or bad, because their job was to defend against all enemies foreign and domestic.

In his opinion, sometimes you had to crack a few eggs to make an omelet and if freedom is that omelet, then he's willing to crack all the eggs. My father was a hardass but he wouldn't promote this. Protection yes, but Stone was insane.

So much of what happened to Patch began to make more sense and it pissed me off. Stone's phone rang and he paced away to answer it. I couldn't catch if he said anything. He finished the call swiftly, then turned to look at his surviving man.

"Deal with him. I want him softened up. I'll be back later." Then he strode out of the garage.

Fuck.

The guy with the bad shoulder looked at me and I looked at him.

"You want to do this the easy way or the hard one?" I meant it. I wouldn't be in these chains much longer. I could practically read the understanding in the guy's eyes.

"You gotta make it look good."

"Not a problem," I promised.

Still, he hesitated, and I almost had one wrist free. Finally, he swore and crossed to where I was. He loosened the chain so I landed on my feet and then he undid the shackles.

"There—"

I slammed my fist into his bad shoulder and his mouth opened in a soundless scream before I shut him down with an uppercut.

He dropped like a rock.

A rush of footsteps had me spinning just as I retrieved my gun from the feckless wonder at my feet. Locke and Remy stared at me.

"You're fine…" Locke said. "We came to…"

"Save me?" I grinned. "Good job. I'm all safe now."

At least, I was until we got back to Sugar Bear.