A Leap in the Dark (The Assassins of Youth MC Book 2)(8)
Luckily no one saw me. I righted myself quickly and jumped back on my scoot, panting heavily, gulping clean air.
Motherf*ck. Motherf*ck.
Ladell Pratt was not Zelpha’s dad. He was her uncle.
He was one of the men who’d kicked me in the ribs when I was down, defenseless.
Without thinking it out in defined linear terms, I started thrashing it back to the dingy hotel.
Avalanche, and all the other little towns in the county, employed many men who were sympathetic to the Cornucopian cause. Some Lost Boys in my age group had actually been driven out of town by policemen and county sheriffs. Postmen, bartenders, businessmen, you name it—they were all on Allred Chiles’ payroll.
But why did this asswipe come back to taunt me? Didn’t he get what he wanted fifteen years ago—me gone, Zelpha married to some pervy elder?
He obviously wanted something more from me. Had I met him before? Had he come to Liberty Temple before to wrap his depraved, polluted lips around my cock?
My mind flew quickly, jumping from one conclusion to the next, discarding each verdict just as quickly. He’d never been to Liberty Temple before because we scanned each client’s driver’s license and new clients put up a red flag for a background check—unless he had a fake one. Of course my IT guy had done a background on Ladell Pratt before letting me go to a motel to meet with him. We didn’t just meet with any moron off the street. He’d used a fake name, but the credit check was all Pratt.
Why has he developed a sudden need to swallow another man’s sword after fifteen years? The answer, of course, was that he hadn’t.
He’d probably been doing this all along, with unsuspecting, na?ve Cornucopia boys, and the more I thought on it, the angrier I got. That was hypocrisy of the worst sort—fondle a boy to orgasm in some twisted rite of release, then throw him to the wolves as punishment for the sins he’d committed. Pratt got off scot free, in the eyes of their warped God at least.
Well, not in mine.
I was going to take down that twisted pedo if it meant getting arrested for assault. I must’ve been doing seventy in a forty zone when I turned into the hotel parking lot. I was so pumped to get in a few front kicks and eye gouges, I could practically feel my fingers sinking into the slime of his eye socket.
So when I cut my engine and saw no sedan parked out front—the windows of the room dark with no activity behind them—momentum just carried me forward. I strode to the door, wrenching and rattling the handle. I pounded and shouted to no avail. I even stormed into the office demanding to know where Pratt had gone. They must’ve thought I was a hit man sent by the ATF to put a bullet in Pratt. And they wouldn’t have been too far off.
Of course they could tell me nothing, and I stormed with impotent rage back to my scoot, kicking a concrete block with my steel-toed boots on the way. I angrily dialed my IT guy who could tell me nothing other than Pratt’s Avalanche address from his license and that he needed corrective lenses. Almost insane with my powerless inability to do anything to this creeper, I thumb-punched my phone to dial Deloy Pingree.
“Deloy.”
“Levon! How grand to hear from you! You wouldn’t believe how dinky this town is. We just pulled into Avalanche—”
“That’s great, Deloy, listen. I need Gideon Fortunati’s phone number.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I had never met Gideon, and I had had no plans to do business with Gideon, up until now.
And this is how we met.
“Gideon. This is Levon Rockwell. I run the Liberty Temp—”
“No need for introductions, my man. My old lady just gave me a glowing review of your premises up there in Bountiful. You’re doing a great service for the Lost Boys of Cornucopia.”
“Well, thanks, although I don’t think her sister would agree with you.” I paused, because I really, deep down, wanted Gideon to comment on Oaklyn. I was rewarded for my patience.
“Oaklyn? Don’t let her get to you. She’s going through some rough times with some jackoff boyfriend. Hopefully he won’t be around too much longer. I’m trying to convince her to move down here to help get the local Urgent Care facility into my back pocket. Be good to have a clinic like that.”
“No doubt, no doubt.” I wondered at the heft of the guy who had recently arrived. He was already consolidating his power base around him. Smart move. “Looks like one of my boys, Deloy Pingree, will be joining you soon. He wants to go to dentist school.”
“Hey, the more the merrier, Levon. This is a spanking new chapter of the Assassins of Youth, so I’m building it from the ground up. I pulled a couple of guys from my Bullhead City chapter, but they couldn’t really spare any more, and I got one guy from a local riding club. The rest’ll have to be Prospects, starting off shining hubcaps.”
I was grateful to Gideon, although I couldn’t really picture Deloy sporting a leather cut, much less steering his own Harley around town. He’d probably be wearing black high-top Converses under his American Eagle Outfitters jeans, vaping on his e-cig. He probably couldn’t resist ironing a patch that said “Does this bike make my ass look fat?” onto his jean jacket vest. And his scoot would probably be a rice rocket. But I should talk. I often drive around with my dog in my sidecar.
“I really appreciate that, brother. I hate to lose Deloy, but I can understand that he wants to move on. Listen. I want to know what you know about a Ladell Pratt.”