Page 47 of Duke

Placing a paperweight on top of the invoices, I log off my desktop. I need the quiet of my house in Malibu to calm me down and strategize. There’s no way I’m gonna let that fucker put my future in jeopardy with his illegal bullshit. I’m gonna find a way to rescue those girls and put an end to Zach’s favors once and for all. Shanna’s safety is paramount, and I won’t bring her here until it’s safer than a school zone.

Smith walks beside me as we head out. Each of us instinctively scan the lot for threats. Like me he served, but he was army. Our training to be alert has been engrained in us. It’s served me well on more than one occasion.

I’m on auto-pilot as I drive down the PCH passing Malibu. I custom built a fucking fortress, it’s not overly large, but my home is carved right into the rocky hills with a view of the Pacific. It’s nestled in a small gated community where a guard stands 24/7. If that wasn’t enough, I had my whole property fenced off complete with a heavy gate across my driveway. I like my fucking privacy, and I always felt uneasy dealing when handling “favors” for the club. It was always the plan to sell my shop up north and live here full-time. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.

I only slept for three hours. I grip my coffee in one hand while watching the sun come up on the horizon, savoring the thick, rich flavor of the Costa Rican beans that I ground myself. The small things in life make me happy, and gourmet coffee is one of them.

The ocean stretches in front of me and the cold smell of morning fills the fall air. It’s a mix of dew and salt water with a tinge of chimney smoke. I breathe it in confident in my decision.

I’m no snitch, but I fought for this country—for freedom and the rule of law.

I can’t look the other way this time.

Maybe a few years back I would’ve. But now, all I want is to be a man worthy of Shanna’s love. I’m not a criminal; I’m a prince on a Harley. I’m gonna ride to rescue the Cortez girls, with the help of law enforcement.

I scan through my contacts and find her number. Even though I was a Marine, I’m still wary of some cops. Especially since around here, a few of them are on Creed or some other gang’s payroll. But I’ve known Christy for years, and I trust her. When we first met, I could tell she wanted to be more than friends, but I had just finished my last tour of duty and was in no place to be in a relationship especially with a good girl like her.

Her brother served, and when I met her jogging on the beach; we clicked. I fix her cars at no charge giving her tips whenever I hear shit on the street that needs telling. She’s a federal marshal now and making a name for herself.

“Duke? Where have you been, haven’t seen you in weeks? I almost filled out a missing person report on your ass.”

“My old man died. He was up in Oregon in a nothing of a town called Springdale.”

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, listen—I need you. Zach’s gone too far. He kidnapped some girls from Cortez, and I’m not sure what he’s doing with them, but it can’t be good. He also wants me to “upgrade” some hot merchandise he jacked. I’m not willing to do it. I’m not a felon, Christy.”

“No, you aren’t. You are one of the good ones, Duke.”

“I’m supposed to meet him at the pit at 10.”

“Alright, we’ll have the place wired and monitored. Thanks for the tip.”

“What about the girls?”

“Get him talking, maybe cut a deal?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

“Be safe.”

“Always darlin’.”

The sound of grunts and panting reminds me of sex. The pit’s crowded with a bunch of meatheads showing off for the tourists today. It’s like watching a damn circus, but instead of animals parading around a tent, the pit is an outside weightlifting gym in the sand full of oiled up dudes lifting way more than they should, hoping to score with a California girl.

Through the lenses of my aviators, I carefully watch the crowd looking for anything out of place. But there’s nothing unusual so far, just the usual number of joggers, roller-bladers, and bikers getting their work out in along the paved path next to the beach.

My Glock sits in its holster under my arm, my leather jacket concealing it from view. Even though, I never pledged to Creed, I still grew up in it. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned—it’s never to have a meeting without protection and always watch your back.

Zach’s bulky frame emerges from the crows with his VP and Sergeant at arms beside him. I don’t need a wingman. He’s such a pussy.

“Zach.” I acknowledge casually lighting up my cigarette.

“Duke? Where have you been, man? You’ve been ignoring my calls. We have important business to discuss.” He motions over to an empty basketball court behind us.

“I had shit to do.”

“I heard.”

---