Page 24 of Bourbon & Blood

He nodded grimly, and we quietly went up the front steps and took to either side of the front door.

He looked at me, and I looked at him. I cocked my head ever so slightly to indicate that he was the one callin’ the shots, now. His shoulders lowered as he let out a pent-up breath and when he was steady – galvanized and ready for what may come, he gave me a nod.

I gave a nod back and silently counted to three, bobbing my head slightly with each count since he couldn’t see my lips, covered as they were by the mask.

On three, I squared up on the shabbily repaired door and blew the remainder of the frame apart, the door flying into the house as Momma Louie shrieked on the couch and half climbed up the back of it. A fresh goddamn needle hung out of her arm. I was impressed the bitch could even find a fuckin’ vein.

There was a shout from the back, an echoing crash, but we had to focus on what was in front of us. I trusted Col and Saint to have whatever was happenin’ in the back in line.

“You sons a bitches! I just fixed that door!” she shrieked, even as Louie leveled his gun in the shell of a woman’s face.

He hung his head, hesitating, and I started to raise my gun. He said to her, “I’m sorry, Momma.” His voice broke on the honorific the bitch didn’t deserve. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped open, but before she could speak, he painted the wall behind her head with her fuckin’ brains – putting her broken body riddled with the drugs that ravaged it to rest.

“C’mon,” I urged at the cursing and heavy blows comin’ from the back. Louie looked to me and nodded. We piled down the long narrow hallway and ended up just inside the back door where Saint and Collier were in a spirited brawl with the guy that stabbed the fuck outta Louie – I hoped.

“That him?” I demanded, and Louie nodded, his eyes a little wide and showing just a little bit too much white around ‘em through the eyeholes in his mask. I nodded, handed him my gun, which he took automatically, and waded into the fray to make quick work of him.

A few heavy blows to the back of his head and he went down and out.

“Git him in the van,” I ordered, holding out my hand for the gun I’d passed off to Louie. He handed it to me and handed me his, then waded in to grab the fucker’s legs without hesitation.

“You ain’t supposed to be liftin’ nothin’!” Saint scolded.

“We got this,” Col affirmed.

Louie backed off an’ Col and Saint took the fucker out the back and down the steps to go down around the house. I clapped Louie on the back of the shoulder and said to ‘im, “C’mon, brother. You did what needed doin’ – it’s time to go home.”

He nodded a little too quickly, and jerked in my grasp but I resisted him, steering him out the back after Saint and Col with their burden.

“You ain’t gotta go back an’ see dat,” I told him. “Ain’t no good here.”

“My brass,” he said. “You told me to remember to police my brass.”

I nodded.

“I got it. You go on around the outside.”

He nodded and did as he was told. I went out front to the living room and found his shell casing, and with one last lingering look at his momma’s ruined face and the dripping gore down the yellowed wall behind her head, all I could do was shake my own.

“We’ll do right by him,” I promised her. “Better ‘n you ever could.”

I walked my ass out the wrecked front door and down the steps. The van was already gone but Louie? Loyal fuckin’ Louie still waited, his bike runnin’ and ready to go. I tossed him the shell casing, and he pocketed the damn thing and then we was out of there.

Back at the club, Louie was given a rowdy hero’s welcome and his colors were waiting. Well, sort of. The bourbon and whiskey flowed and all too soon, the rest of the guys had the prospect face down on one of the pool tables, wriggling under his cut as they ironed on his colors patch as he was wearing the damn thing.

Hex wandered over as I tossed back the rest of what was in my glass. He eyed me.

“He did the deed then?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Told his momma sorry and blew her eyes out the back of her head,” I said dryly.

He pitched a low whistle. “Ain’t that some shit?” he asked, staring out into the crowd. “What about the one that stuck him?”

“I’m about to head out and take care of him,” I said. “Saint and Col are on their way back.”

“You ain’t goin’ by yerself,” Hex declared, and I looked over at him.

“I’d planned on it.”

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