16. Knives

SIXTEEN

KNIVES

I didn't expect much from a small town bar, but being the only place to serve liquor must mean they do decent business. The interior is outdated but clean, and the ambiance is decent.

Jim is quick to show us to a large table with a "reserved" sign on it. There are three men already sitting there. One of them looks similar to Jim, except a little heavier and with less hair.

"Here we go!" Jim says proudly. "Pete—that's the owner—did us a solid and made sure we'd have a place. It gets busy on Friday nights."

I share a look with Maddox. It's busy, sure, but we've seen a lot more people packed into smaller spaces both in New Bristol and even in New Valence.

"Thanks," I say to Jim, taking the empty seat up against the wall. Maddox sits down next to me. "Nice to meet you all. I'm Nayeem, this is Maddox."

I'd wanted to turn down the invitation, but Jim and Rebecca have been nothing but kind to us, and I could tell Maddox was itching to get out of the room anyway. Besides, we aren't going to get anything done hiding away forever.

The three men give their own greetings. The youngest of them looks at us with a strange expression on his face, and I hope it's not going to lead to trouble.

"This is my brother Charlie," Jim says, pointing to the man with the strong family resemblance. "That's Hank, my nephew—from my sister. Charlie's only got daughters."

Charlie rolls his eyes. "And they're all damn fine women. You wish your kid were as great as mine."

For some reason, Jim tenses up, but he moves on to the last man. "And here's Gabe. He's one of my fishing buddies. He'd've been there when I found you, except his wife got on his case about spending time with the family or some horseshit."

Gabe flips Jim off. "Of course I'd rather spend time with Sarah than with your ugly mug."

The two of them laugh, though, so apparently there's no real resentment between them. The conversation goes towards who else might be coming, and what everybody does in town. Any time I mention anything about Benton, they hang on my every word, asking for more details. Maybe I should have just said I was from New Bristol to make it easier on myself, but it's not like any of them will know when I'm embellishing or making shit up.

We really are the main attraction, and Jim seems to want to milk this for social capital. It's harmless enough, and we owe him.

Jim and Charlie get up to buy us a round of beers. Hank takes the opportunity to slide closer to us.

"Hey, so…" Hank says. He glances over to Gabe, who is leaning back in his chair and pretending not to pay attention.

"Yeah?" I prompt.

Hank squirms a little before saying, "Is it true you're undercover?"

Maddox looks between them, lips quirking into a grin. "If we were undercover, would we tell you?" he asks, his voice dry despite the smile.

"Well, no," Hank hedges.

"Then we're definitely not undercover." I can hear the near-laughter in Maddox's voice, and I like it.

I like it a lot.

Hank latches onto that and nods with sage understanding. "Gotcha. But you should know, if you're not undercover, you gotta be careful."

"Why's that?" I ask, honestly curious about where this is going.

"Obviously, it'd be no trouble at all for the feds or state troopers," Hank explains. "But there's this biker gang that holed up in the swamp. And they used one of the broken down houses over near Old Applecrumb Farm to?—"

"Shut up," Gabe interrupts, startling Hank. "You don't wanna be a snitch."

"I'm not snitching!" Hank protests, keeping his voice low. "Since they're not undercover!"

Maddox's amusement has dried up, and he looks between them with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, I heard a little bit about them," he says. "Do they mess with you a lot down here?"

Hank glares at Gabe, then shrugs. "Some. One of them harassed Molly—my sister. She's just fifteen. And they got a lot of…" he trails off.

Jim and Charlie are back with the beers, and two more people trail behind them. One of them is Rebecca, but I don't recognize the other man.

"Look who arrived!" Jim declares as he sets the beers down. "That's Jacob. Another fishing buddy."

Rebecca sits down next to Hank and shakes her head. "Only men! You didn't want to invite your wives?"

Charlie snorts loudly. "And risk one of these big city guys stealing her? No thanks."

I glance at Hank, and mouth "later" to him. He nods, which I hope means he'll stick around to tell us more about what these bikers are up to.

We couldn't handle them in the swamp, but that's because we went in with a half-assed plan.

I'm not going to let them defeat us. I still owe them for the hell they put us through.

The conversation keeps flowing around us, with more people coming to chat before leaving again. After our third beer, the sound system suddenly stops playing music.

I glance toward the jukebox, my eyes widening when I see somebody standing there with a mic.

"Good evening, everybody!" the woman says with a bright smile. "It's the third Friday of the month, and you all know what that means!"

Half the bar groans, but the others cheer. Jim and Charlie whoop loudly.

"That's right," the woman says. "It's…"

The bar patrons join her to say, "Karaoke night!"

Maddox is sitting up straighter, his attention fully on her. "Karaoke," he whispers, sounding endearingly awed.

It's sort of adorable, seeing a grown man like him look so excited. I remember him telling me in the car that he hadn't done it since we were teens, but things are different now.

Everything is different now.

"You're getting up on stage with me," he tells me in a whisper as he grabs my wrist. "We're gonna celebrate my return to karaoke in style."

"No way," I say, shaking my head vehemently. "You go first. I gotta… uh, drink more. Figure out which songs I still know."

Maddox scoffs at me. "You know the classics. You probably know more now than you did before." His smile falters, but he paints it back on quickly enough to where I almost miss it. "C'mon. You have to do this with me."

I don't mind karaoke when it's in the private rooms they have in the Asian-style karaoke places back in New Bristol. But in front of all these people in a small town bar?

The music starts playing a nineties pop song, and I let out a small sigh of relief. A woman starts belting out the song, off key but clearly having fun. The crowd is laughing and generally being kind, at least.

"You really want to?" I ask Maddox. "It's not gonna be…weird?"

"Of course it's gonna be weird," he scoffs. "It's karaoke."

He's looking at me so hopefully that I know I won't be able to say no to him.

I'd do a lot more than embarrass myself in front of a whole small town for him.

"Fine, fine." I run my hand through my hair. "Let's pick a rock song, or…"

He's already heading to the stage, lining up to get his song in. Our song, I guess. Fuck.

Jim laughs and passes a beer to me. "Drink up. Sounds like you'll need it for your singing debut. I certainly wouldn't be caught dead on stage." His smile drops a bit. "Maybe if I'd been more into singing, Patty wouldn't have left me."

Oh, shit. I want to listen to his marital troubles less than I want to sing.

"Thanks." I take a large gulp of the beer before going to join Maddox in line.

Maddox is already bouncing on his heel, still looking like an overeager puppy, and he grins at me as I approach. He grabs my hand brazenly, pulling me close to him, and it strikes me as such a strange moment to have in some small podunk town in the middle of nowhere. He's never been the type to show affection in public, but I realize he's changed a lot.

So have I.

I just hope that doesn't mean we've grown in completely opposite directions.

I reluctantly put some distance between us when I catch somebody staring. If we were in New Bristol, I'd tell them to fuck off, but I don't want to cause a huge scene here even though we'll be leaving soon anyway.

Maddox follows my gaze, his lips thinning, but he doesn't attempt to touch me again.

Two country songs later, it's our turn.

"Don't worry, you know this one," Maddox says. He hands me one of the mics, and I tap it to make sure it's on.

The music starts up, and yes, I know this one. It's the rock song that had caused our argument in the car. That feels like ages ago now, even though it couldn't have been more than ten days.

He eyes me, and I can tell he's afraid I'm going to refuse this olive branch. Instead, I nod to him.

It'll be good to turn this song into a good memory once more.

Maddox gets into it, the concern about the latent homophobia in members of the audience melting away as he turns this into an animated performance. He quirks a brow at me, inviting me to get just as into it, and I throw caution to the wind as I start to sing with him. Fuck it. I'm only going to live once, and in the lifestyle we lead, that could be cut short at any moment.

I may as well enjoy myself where I can.

The song ends, and Maddox grins at the receptive audience as they applaud. He takes a little bow before hopping off the stage, and I follow him toward the bar. We order ginger ale and clink our glasses together.

"You could drink," I say, smiling. "I'll drive us. And make sure to tuck you into bed when you can't get it up."

"Nah. Sheryl would already flip out if she knew I'd had a few beers." Maddox rolls his eyes. "Anyway, if you plan on fucking me into the mattress, I'd rather be, you know, coherent."

"I wouldn't!" I say, bumping my shoulder against him. "I'm a gentleman. Only slow, gentle, delicate…"

He sneers at me. "How dare you." He starts to chuckle, though, shaking his head before he murmurs, "This is nice."

It is. It's really nice, being here, with him, not fighting. Just having a good time.

Maybe he was onto something when he suggested we run away.

"Not Mexico," I say. "Alaska is still the US, and nobody would ever think of looking for us there."

"I don't know about the cold," he says, tilting his head. "California's fucking huge. Good luck hunting us down there, especially if we ended up with some quiet little life out there."

"Or we could do Hawaii," I suggest. "We retire to a tropical paradise. Or, uh, not retire, but find jobs as surf instructors or whatever the fuck they do on Hawaii."

Maddox starts to laugh so hard his shoulders shake. "Do you even know how to fucking surf?"

I give him an innocent look. "It can't be that hard, right? We're pros at the whole outdoor nature water thing by now."

He laughs harder. "We could stay here and become swamp guides, I guess. Get one of those airboats and show people how to navigate and tell them about the dangers of crocodiles?—"

"Alligators," I correct him.

"I knew that," he tells me, and he wipes at the tears in his eyes. He's fucking adorable like this, which I'm sure nobody but me would ever say about him.

If we weren't in public, I'd kiss him.

I clink my glass against his again. "We'll think about it. We have so many easily transferable skills. And great resumes."

Maddox's grin comes so easily tonight. "With the best references, too. Could you even imagine?"

Not to mention my prison record, but I don't want to bring the mood down by mentioning it. I finish my drink and set the glass on the bartop. "Sounds like a plan. But we should get back to Jim. He's probably itching to show us off to somebody else."

Maddox snorts, but he nods. "Yeah. I just love being put on display like this." He sets his own glass down. "All right. Ready for duty."

We head back to our table, weaving around the many bar patrons. Only Jim and Hank are still sitting there.

Jim whistles in awe. His words are slurred when he says, "Wow. You boys got… got some pipes on you. See, Hank? Singing isn't just for…"

"I heard you!" Hank finishes off his beer and gets up. "I saw Paula lining up. I'm gonna convince her to do a duet with me."

I wonder what Jim was going to say.

Now that I'm paying attention, I notice that Jim's eyes are red, and he's swaying. He must have been drinking a lot.

"You all right, Jim?" I ask. "Should Maddox and I take you home?"

Jim shakes his head. "Why bother? There's no one at home."

Maddox and I exchange a look.

"Then we'll hang out for a little longer, but I insist. We'll take you home before we head out for the night, okay?" Maddox says.

"Charlie's girls are all married. Getting married. Having kids." Jim peers into his beer. "Hank's been hounding Paula. Molly's got a boyfriend. Just watch, she'll get knocked up soon. But me…" He looks at us. "It wasn't my fault. I didn't… I didn't do anything, okay?"

Maddox claps him on the back. "Hey, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I doubt you did anything wrong."

Jim leans closer, and I grimace when I realize his eyes are tearing up. "I didn't tell Brad he had to leave. I woulda… I'd've… I don't care about that kind of stuff, all right?"

"Who's Brad?" I ask, although I already have a sneaking suspicion.

"My son," Jim answers. He wipes his eyes. "He coulda stayed. I wasn't gonna kick him out just ‘cause he was… like you."

I tense up. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that people were able to see through us, considering how hard it's been not to touch each other.

Maddox looks at me again, and his voice is gentle when he says, "You've been nothing but kind to us. I bet he understood that you wouldn't judge him for who he loves, but…" He casts a glance around the bar. "A lot of people wouldn't say the same. Doesn't matter if it's a small town or a bigger one like where we're from."

"Yeah," I add awkwardly. "You're a good guy, Jim. Much better than most people I know."

Ain't that the truth. I get along with the others in the Cresci organization, but I don't know that I could call them good . Hell, if Jim knew half the shit Maddox and I have done, he wouldn't be sobbing out his sorrows to us right now.

"He calls," Jim says, "but he doesn't visit. He's not far! Only in New Valence. I just want to see my son."

Fucking hell. Of course Maddox had to go and feign sympathy and invite this sort of disclosure.

Maddox hums, and I can see him carefully compartmentalizing what we've been through as he says, "He's lucky to have you, Jim. Really. Don't forget that."

Jim starts sobbing openly then, and I hastily cast a look around for Charlie or Hank or Rebecca—anyone who is better equipped to comfort him than we are.

Of course, they're nowhere to be found, and even Maddox looks alarmed by this.

Not so empathetic after all, I note, which would be funny if it wasn't for the fact that a drunk man is pouring out his problems to us.

"Hey, Jim, let's get you out of here," I say. Maddox nods at me, and between the two of us, we manage to get Jim out of his chair. He leans heavily against me, and I support most of his weight as we stumble to the entrance.

"Where are your keys, Jim?" I ask him once we're outside.

"Dunno. Patty wanted to take the truck. I fought for her though," Jim says through soft sobs.

I look around for his truck, and I spot Hank making out with a blond woman up against the side of the building. That explains where he went, at least.

Maddox notices and says, "Hey, Hank! Sorry to interrupt, but…"

Hank immediately pulls away from the woman. "It's not what it looks like!"

I roll my eyes. "It looked like you and the lady were having a good time. But we don't care. We just want to get your uncle home."

The woman laughs and pushes him toward us. "Go on. Help sad ol' Jim. I can wait."

Hank makes a few apologetic sounds, but he approaches me. "Man, he always gets like this when he's drunk."

"We just need the…" Maddox starts to say, but the rest of it is drowned out by the sound of motorcycles.

We all tense. Maddox and I get closer to the truck so we're shadowed and not immediately visible.

Hank and his girlfriend are slower. The motorcycles pull into the parking lot while the two of them are still gaping like idiots.

I start fumbling along Jim's pockets to find those keys. We need to get out of here.

"I'm not like that," Jim mumbles. "You should talk to my son."

Fuck, this is not the time.

"We'll talk to him," Maddox promises, holding him up so I can dig for the keys. "But for now, let's get going."

As long as everybody keeps to themselves, we're fine. The bikers look like they're ready for a night of booze and bad karaoke, judging by their joking around. I keep my eyes on them, but I thankfully don't recognize any of them.

Unfortunately, Hank does.

"Hey. Tommy. What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Hank yells to one of the guys.

Tommy stops halfway up the ramp to the entrance and turns. "What?"

Just walk away , I mentally beg Hank.

Hank approaches him with an angry strut. "I know what you did to my sister."

Fuck. Fucking hell. We need to get out of here before shit hits the fan.

I finally find the keys, and Maddox gets Jim out of the way enough for me to very silently open the door. I'm so fucking glad it's a regular key and not an electronic keyfob that would make noise.

"What I did to your sister is none of your fucking business," Tommy says. He points to his biker friends. "We own this town now, and all the bitches in it."

Jim makes a sound while I force him into the truck. Maddox gets in on the other side, and I've got one foot ready to get in myself.

"You fucking don't. You think you're… you're hot shit, but I know you're going down. The feds are onto you, and I can't wait to see them arrest all of you."

Motherfucker. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"What? What feds?" one of Tommy's friends asks.

"You think you're so secret, but they know all about your operations, and your—" I hear the sound of flesh pounding against flesh, and Hank cries out. His girlfriend starts screaming.

I meet Maddox's eyes. "We can still go," I whisper.

Maddox grits his teeth. He's obviously torn, but it somehow doesn't surprise me when he shakes his head. "I'm not running from a fight with them again." Before I can say anything, he adds, "And my shoulder is fucking fine."

He turns, stalking toward where Hank and Tommy are getting into it.

I sigh and go join him.

"Please! Just leave Hank alone!" his girlfriend says. "Tommy, it's fine. He didn't mean anything?—"

"I meant every fucking word!" Hank shouts, standing up only to get punched in the face again.

The other guys are standing in a protective ring around the two brawlers.

"You brats want to pick on somebody your own size?" I say as I approach them in my lowest, most intimidating voice. I've been told by quite a few people they don't want to meet me in a dark alley.

This isn't an alley, but it's dark. Everybody inside is enjoying their drinks and singing. They won't hear the fist fight going on outside.

Tommy does a double take, though I think it's more because he didn't expect to see two men coming out of the shadows than anything else. He's not a small guy either, more Maddox's size, and he doesn't look like he's going to be easy to intimidate.

"Back the fuck off," Maddox growls. "Just get on your bikes and go back to where you came from."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Tommy asks. He gets into a defensive stance, and it's decent enough that I think he's had some formal training.

"We don't want trouble," I say steadily. "Leave Hank alone, and you can go on your way."

"Maybe Hank shoulda kept his mouth shut then," one of the other guys sneers. "No one in this town gets to tell us what to do."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I hear Maddox mutter. "Last warning. Back off, dickhead."

Unfortunately, Hank suddenly yells and rushes forward, crashing into Tommy. The other guys immediately go to help Tommy, and I have to step in to keep one from kicking Hank in the head.

I hate fist fights. They're messy and chaotic, making it hard to keep track of who's where. Right now, I've got two people to protect, and that divides my attention further. At least Maddox can hold his own, and he's keeping one of the guys busy.

Unfortunately, we're still outnumbered. I notice the woman trying to get into the bar, but one of the bikers blocks her path. I'd go to help her if I weren't busy defending myself.

I block a punch and use the guy's momentum to shove him hard against his bikes. He cries out, but while he's dazed, I go to pull Tommy off Hank.

"Just fucking leave," I say, throwing a punch directly in Tommy's face.

I can't spare a glance at Maddox, can't even really afford to spare a thought about him, but I know the cry of pain I hear is from him. Someone probably got him in the shoulder. Fuck.

It only makes me more determined to get Tommy down as fast as possible, though, so I lay into him. He may have a few fights under his belt, but I don't think he's had the kind of experience I have.

We're both thugs, but while he may be used to fighting, I'm used to fighting in earnest because someone's life is usually on the line.

I hear the thud of someone hitting the ground, and I curse, kicking Tommy's leg to get him to go down like a rock. Something gives, and he falls.

The guy I'd shoved into the motorcycles earlier rushes at me, but I manage to dodge out of the way. He keeps barreling forward—straight into Jim, who has stumbled out of the truck.

"Hey!" Jim says, sounding less drunk than before. "Don't touch Hank. Or any of ‘em!" He slams his fist against the biker's back. "Leave my family alone, you fuckers!"

Fuck.

I rush toward Jim, but Tommy is in the way, grinning like a madman. "You watch, old man! We're going to kill you all!"

I try to get around Tommy, but he body blocks me. I wish I had a knife or a gun on me, and I'm very conscious of the fact that these men could be armed.

Jim cries out in pain.

Anger surges into me, and my next punch sends Tommy flying. He cries out as he slams into the side of the bar.

I run to Jim and haul the guy punching him away. Jim falls to the ground, and I wish I could stop to check on him, but I need my full concentration to deal with this other punk.

I take a punch and land a few of my own when it suddenly gets brighter. The bar door opens, and a man with a shotgun walks out.

"What the fuck is going on around here?" the man shouts.

The bikers all freeze.

"Uh, hi, Pete," Tommy says. "Nothing's going on. My boys and I were just…"

Pete aims his gun at Tommy. "You were leaving. Right?"

"Aw, come on!" Tommy whines. "We wanted drinks! We weren't gonna cause trouble until that little prick opened his mouth."

Hank stands straighter, and it looks like he wants to say something but Maddox covers his mouth to stop him.

"You failed. Get the fuck out of here, or I'm sending your bullet riddled body to your momma." Pete motions towards the bikes.

I hold my breath, but Tommy and his friends are smart enough to get on their bikes and drive off.

Fuck.

Pete turns to us, but he lowers the shotgun. "Is everything all… Jesus Christ, Jim?"

I grimace and go to Jim, who is lying on the hard concrete. Blood streams from his nose and mouth, and even in the dim lighting, I can see the bruising beginning to form. His breathing is shallow, too.

"Fuck. We have to get him to Sheryl," I say. "Maddox, Hank, you two all right?"

Sweat has beaded up on Maddox's forehead, but he nods. "Yeah. Let's go."

Hank still looks like he's itching for a fight, but he finally looks at Jim and deflates. "A few bruises. Nothing I can't handle." His girlfriend rushes over to him and starts fussing over him.

Maddox steps aside so he can help me with Jim. "Jim," he starts to say, only to stop when he sees the blood. "Fuck." We barely even have to trade a look before we're both grabbing Jim, hauling him up so we can get him into the truck.

I get into the driver's seat and start up the truck.

"I'll call Sheryl to let her know you're on your way," Hank says, waving to us.

I pull the truck out of the parking lot and start driving toward the clinic.

"We need to take them down," Maddox says.

I give him a quick glance before turning my attention back to the road. "Yeah. We'll make those fuckers regret everything."

Never mind abandoning our mission.

We're going to get our weapons back, and kill every single one of them in the process.