Heathens Page 9

  “I’m going to get us drinks. You go get him in the fight.” Murphy headed off to the packed bar before anyone could argue with him.

  “You know this is a bad idea, right?” Dean asked skeptically as he surveyed the smoky room.

  “Probably,” Nash replied evenly, not looking over at his friend. “But better you beat the shit out of guys here than ones we know at the clubhouse. Maybe try not to get completely shitfaced, though.” Dean grunted in reply before the pair headed off to find the fight coordinator deep in the heart of the crowd.

  It was an hour later before Dean’s name was called in the elimination-style set up of the night’s event. He had spent most of the time taking shots that Murphy was keeping in steady supply, claiming to be his motivational coach. He had also done a bit of warming up, considering that, now in his early thirties, he wasn’t quite at his prime anymore. Nash sat quietly at the table, keeping an ever-watchful eye on their surroundings since they were no longer in territory claimed by the Red Kings.

  The gruff referee called his name from the top of the cage stairs, motioning for him and another guy to enter for their first match. The winner of this round would go on to face the winner of a similar round, one by one getting eliminated until there were only two left to compete for the crown of the night and the cash prize. The Kings weren’t here for the money, but it certainly didn’t hurt in Dean’s mind.

  Dean stripped off his black t-shirt, his tattooed torso adding a layer of intimidation that wasn’t necessary considering his size. At well over six feet tall and close to two hundred and forty pounds, he was by no means a small guy. His body was heavily muscled due to his line of work as both a mechanic and an enforcer, as well as his general affinity for working out.

  His opponent for this round was slightly shorter and close to his weight, though he carried it more as fat than muscle. He had a long, unkempt beard and wore a grungy white tank top, giving him a grotesque kind of look that seemed to match his personality. There was a certain wild spark in his eyes, shaded heavily by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed throughout the night.

  At first glance, Dean could quickly pick out two weak spots and a left knee that the man was favoring. Not expecting much of a fight, he sighed and hopped up the stairs, entering the cage to an underwhelming mix of cheers and jeers. The opponent entered next to a round of howls and applause, indicating that he was a local favorite. That didn’t worry Dean in the slightest as he listened to the referee rattle off the basic rules that nobody really cared about.

  No below the belt shots. Nothing intentional to cause permanent damage. Stop when the match has been called.

  That was it, and suddenly the fight had begun.

  The man started shouting, throwing insults at Dean in an attempt to rile him up. Unfortunately for him, Dean was still reasonably sober and therefore not easily swayed from his mission. Weaving and bobbing, his opponent took a few swings, none of which connected. The pair continued like this for a minute or two as the biker took the opportunity to analyze the situation. The guy lost his balance on a particularly hard punch, leaving Dean with a clear opening to the side of his jaw that he quickly took.

  His fist connected like lightning, and the man stumbled back in shock and pain, the crowd roaring in frustration as their favorite failed to impress.

  “C’mon Phil,” a drunk guy from the front row screamed angrily, probably having placed a hefty amount of money on the match. “Kick his ass!”

  Phil roared angrily and charged towards him, causing Dean to sidestep the man and shove him into the chainlink fence of the cage wall using his own momentum. The crowd groaned sympathetically as he bounced off the cage and landed on the mat with a thud, much to Dean’s amusement. He took slow steps around the guy in a broad circle, stalking him like prey as he waited for him to rise.

  Murphy was up from his chair in excitement, one of the only few in the crowd cheering for the larger man. “Yeah, D! You got this!” Nash was less enthusiastic about his support, but his eyes remained glued to the scene in front of him.

  As he made his way to his feet, Phil began to realize that he had a real fight on his hands this time. Most of the fighters that came into the cage at the Watering Hole were brawlers with no refined skill, just tempers and too much aggression. But Dean was experienced and knew his way around a fight after years of hanging with all the wrong people.

  Deciding he was getting bored with the fight, Dean set his shoulders and let his opponent come at him once again. Phil got in a few small hits, one to the face and a few to the solid mass of Dean’s torso. It lulled him into a false sense of security, and Dean could see the confidence build on the man’s face. Smirking as he moved into place, Dean began slamming his fists into any part of Phil’s body that was open. Jab after jab landed, and all the man could do was try to cover himself as he backed into the corner.

  After several prolonged seconds of this, the referee demanded that he back off and let the man up. Dean backed away a few feet, his chest heaving as he breathed hard and waited for his opponent, who was using the fencing to keep himself upright. Phil glared from his bent-over position, blood beginning to spill from a split lip. “Fuck you,” he spat from the corner of the squared ring, finally standing up straight.

  Just in time for Dean to land a knockout blow to his face.

  He hit the mat hard, completely out cold as the crowd roared in disappointment at the loss. Dean backed away from his opponent as the referee kneeled to check on him, sighing in relief when the man indicated that Phil was still breathing. The official came over and grabbed his wrist, raising his arm in the air to signal him as the winner, much to the displeasure of the audience.

  Dean was then ushered out of the cage as they attempted to wake the unconscious man. Grinning as he approached the table, he came to a stop in front of Murphy as the man threw some fake punches at him in excitement.

  “Bro, that was awesome!” he exclaimed, clapping Dean on the shoulder in congratulations.

  Nash was also standing, a knowing smile on his face as he could tell that Dean was finally enjoying himself. “How’d that feel?”

  “Fantastic,” Dean admitted with a ferocious grin, feeling the adrenaline flowing through his veins. “Can’t wait for the next round.”

  “You just won me a hundred bucks,” Murphy replied with glee in his eyes. “So, if you could win a few more, that’d be great.”

  “You put money on me?”

  “Of course!” Murphy exclaimed, looking dumbfounded at the question. “Have you seen you fight? It’s easy money.”

  Dean glanced at Nash, who simply shrugged at the comment. He grabbed his wallet off the table, pulling out the fifty dollars in cash that he had and handing it to Murphy. “Let’s make some money tonight.”

  22

  Jackie looked up from feeding Oliver his morning bottle as the front door opened. Dean entered cautiously before he saw the pair snuggled in the armchair and realized his attempts to be quiet were unnecessary. “Hey,” he said as he made his way over, bending to place a kiss on his girlfriend’s lips as he ran a hand over her hair. “Sorry I didn’t come home last night. It was late, I didn’t wanna wake the little man, so I just crashed at the clubhouse.” Dean used a finger to tickle the baby’s foot, and in response, seemed to get a glare from Oliver as though he was upset to be disturbed while he was eating.

  “That’s okay,” Jackie replied with a small smile as he sat on the arm of the chair. “He was being fussy last night, took me forever to get him down. So thank you for not waking him. But maybe text me next time, so I know you’re not dead.” He ducked his head sheepishly as she observed his scuffed knuckles and the dark shadow under his right eye, also not missing the way he favored his left side. “How’d your fight go?”

  He snorted, a proud smirk gracing his face as he thought of the previous night’s activities. “Great, I won the night.” Sticking his hand into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a roll of cash, causing Jackie to whi
stle. “Won five hundred for beating everyone else, plus another five hundred off of Murphy’s betting skills.”

  “Hot damn,” Jackie muttered, eyes wide as she stared at the cold, hard cash. She hadn’t considered just how lucrative cagefighting could be, instead all too concerned with the injuries Dean might garner from the activity. Not that she didn’t think he could handle his own, she knew he could. But seeing him come back relatively unharmed did wonders to calm her nerves. “Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

  “Right? Making a grand a night is worth assholes throwing punches at me.”

  She eyed him carefully, not wanting to start a fight, especially while Oliver was getting sleepy in her arms. “And how are you feeling? Did it help?”

  Dean had to resist the urge to cringe at the question, knowing he should have expected her to ask. “Yeah, better. Relaxed. Not feeling quite so out of control.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad it helped. I think you’re getting better with Oliver too, so hopefully, you'll start to feel less out of your element with him.” She looked up at Dean with a soft expression as he hung his head, his shaggy black hair covering his eyes.

  “I just don’t wanna fuck him up, ya know? I didn’t have a good fatherly role model growing up until I met Luke. I’ve never really seen what it’s supposed to look like for a kid.” Shaking his head, Dean let his gaze fall on his dozing son. “I feel more and more comfortable with him every day, but at the same time, I’m still hesitant and afraid I’m doing the wrong thing.”

  Jackie shifted the baby in her arms so that she could rub a hand comfortingly along Dean’s large arm. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all that matters. He’s just happy to have a dad in the picture at all. I’m glad you’re here too.”

  He felt a wave of pressure hit him, the anxiety of being there for his family climbing up his throat to choke him. Sure, he was into the domesticated thing now, but what about in six months? In a year? He didn’t want to bail on them just like his old man had bailed on his mom and him.

  Dean began to reach for his pocket, desperately craving a cigarette, but paused when he remembered his promise to cut down, especially around the baby. His thoughts drifted to the white powder stuffed deep in the back of his sock drawer. He could do just one hit, just to take the edge off. He shook his head and dashed the thought. Was it too soon to go back to the ring for another fight?

  “Dean?” Jackie asked quietly, watching him stare off at nothing as a dozen emotions filtered across his face. She hated to push him, but just wanted to try to understand what he was feeling so that she could help. The nurturer in her hated to see him upset and in distress. “You’re doing great. Just keep going, one day at a time.”

  “You’re doing great,” he replied, trying to change the subject. “You’re perfect with him, always know what he needs, how to take care of him.” He smiled down at the pair with pride at the little family he had helped to create. “You’ve been a great mom right from the start.”

  Jackie grinned at his words, always happy to hear that someone thought she was doing okay in her new role. “Well, I had some practice growing up. My sister was seven years younger than me, so I helped my mom take care of her a lot.”

  He furrowed his brows at the new information and cocked his head as he looked at her. “How did I not know you had a sister?”

  “I’ve mentioned her a few times before, must be your keen selective hearing.” Jackie’s gaze became far away as she thought of her sibling. “But we’re not close, haven’t spoken in years. We kind of drifted apart after my mom died. The age gap meant we were never really decent friends.”

  “What about your dad?” Dean asked, now suddenly curious as he realized she never talked about her family.

  Jackie shrugged, staring at the wall across from her even though she didn’t really see it. “He’s still around. We usually talk once or twice a year. He was strict growing up, still an okay dad, but never particularly loving. And after my mom died, it just got worse. He keeps up with my sister and her family. They’re all back in Chicago.”

  “Well, damn, you’re the mother of my child, and I didn’t know any of that.” Dean shook his head, realizing he should probably start paying her more attention if he wanted her to stick around.

  “That’s okay. I don’t talk about them much. Besides, they’re not my family anymore, you and the guys are.” She smiled up at him brightly. “As weird as it sounds, this MC feels more like family than my real one ever did.”

  Dean nodded his head in agreement, believing her statement wholeheartedly. “Yeah, as great as my mom is, this band of misfits is what finally made me feel like I belonged somewhere for once.”

  “Funny how life turns out sometimes, huh?”

  He snorted and would have responded had it not been for Oliver’s sudden wail. Jackie cringed at the noise before lifting the baby from his position against her chest and holding him out to Dean. “Your turn, daddy,” she said with a smile as she plopped Oliver into the pair of unsuspecting arms and headed down the hall with a skip in her step.

  “Yeah, thanks!” Dean replied sarcastically over the baby’s cries, before turning all of his attention to the situation at hand. “Okay, let’s see if I can figure this out.”

  23

  It was a few days after her productive talk with Dean, and Jackie was starting to feel good about the whole parenting situation for once. Sure, things were still financially rough, and Dean was still not the most involved parent ever. Still, it had been nice getting inside his head a bit in regards to everything. Understanding his side of the story made things just a little easier to handle.

  Jackie had just put Oliver in his crib when there was a knock at the apartment door. Thankful that it hadn’t seemed to disturb the sleeping baby, she headed over to the door and looked through the peephole to see two smartly dressed men in black. Her breath caught, and she immediately pulled her cell phone from her back pocket, sending a quick text to Dean to alert him of the visitors.

  She briefly considered not answering the door, instead just waiting them out in hopes that they’d leave. But when they knocked a second time, Oliver whined a bit, and she realized if they kept at, he would alert the agents to somebody being home. Jackie took in a big breath, trying to steady her nerves and remember everything that Nash had told her. She opened the door a few inches, careful not to put too much of the apartment on view for them to scrutinize.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, impressed that her voice didn’t waver despite her distress.

  “Are you Jacqueline Reeves?” The dark-haired man attempted to come across as warm and pleasant as he gave her a small smile.

  “I am. Who are you?” Jackie replied, staring at the pair skeptically even though she was well aware of who they were and what they wanted.

  He stared at her for a second, seemingly analyzing her as he pulled out his badge. “I’m Agent Diaz, and this is my partner Agent Malloy. We’re with the FBI.” They both held up their identification for her to view, waiting patiently as she read the badges. “Can we come in and talk with you for a few minutes?”

  “You can talk out here,” she replied flatly, remembering Nash’s advice not to let them in.

  Diaz seemed a bit surprised at her hostility but nodded his agreement nonetheless. “I’m assuming you know why we’re here?”

  “The boys mentioned you were in the area, something about car thefts, I think?”

  “Correct. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Agent Diaz stared at her innocently, as though he were asking questions about the weather and not illegal activities that would incriminate her partner and send him to prison.

  “Why would I?” she replied with a questioning look.

  Agent Malloy stood in the background assessing every detail of the conversation in silence while Diaz continued to do all of the talking. “Well, your association with the Red Kings puts you in the same crowds, maybe you’ve heard something
or seen something that might help our investigation.”

  “Same crowds? The guys are mechanics that have an unhealthy obsession with motorcycles. They don’t hang with the crowds I think you’re looking for.”

  “You sure about that?” He spoke with a condescending tone that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. “Because that’s a very expensive Range Rover you have out in the parking lot considering Mr. Rockwell is a mechanic and you’re a waitress.”

  Jackie narrowed her eyes at the smug look on his face as he thought he had backed her into a corner. “Birthday present from the club. Not that expensive when twenty people are paying for it. Nice try, though.”

  Agent Diaz hummed quietly at her explanation, his smirk turning back into the small smile he started with as he thought of another line of questioning. “So, you’re not aware of the illegal activities your boyfriend and his gang are involved in?”

  “You mean the speeding tickets?” She cocked her head to the side innocently, her eyes purposefully big and round as she played dumb. “I am aware, yes, and I’ve spoken to all of them about slowing down when they’re on their bikes.”

  He huffed and shook his head, annoyed that she had been warned of their investigation before they could question her. Diaz took a step forward, leveling her with a stare as she tilted her head up to meet his gaze sternly. “I don’t think you realize just how much trouble your friends are in. They’ll be in prison for decades when I’m done with them. And I’ll make sure you’ve got a cell of your own for obstruction and being an accomplice to ongoing criminal activity.”

  Jackie smirked up at him, delighted that her lack of cooperation clearly had him rattled. “I’ve done nothing wrong. So I suggest you leave before my lawyer shows up and files a lawsuit against you two for harassment and threatening a mother and her child. She’ll be here any minute.”