Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(51)

We went back into Dingo’s room where he proudly played us the video of Pipkin threatening me with a gun, Chiles taking my mine deed, me accusing him of marrying off an underage girl. Dingo had omitted the part where I was making time with Allred’s “wife.”

“Edited for plausible deniability,” was what Dingo said proudly. “The dramatic black moment is when Gideon here brings up the dead bodies.”

“What dead bodies?” asked Sledgehammer.

Dingo continued, like a film critic. “The tension, the crescendo, the way Chiles tweaked and bellowed ‘we will be avenged!’ is Oscar-worthy.”

Sledgehammer offered the joint to Dingo. He declined. “Yeah, but the big question is, how are you gonna use this to blackmail the polyg? If he calls your bluff, he goes telling this fed about you selling him Russian ladies.”

“Among other things,” added Dingo. “Well, that’s the thing. I can always edit it so that the only thing mentioned is the dead bodies.”

“That’s the best card I’m holding,” I said. I slapped Dingo on the shoulder like a chum. “You did good, Prospect.”

Dingo beamed widely. “You know, my mother never once hugged me or told me I did good. The only people allowed to make a child feel worthwhile are the father and The Prophet.”

Sledge said, “The more I hear about this motherf*cker, the more I want to bury him.” Sledgehammer liked to bury people. He was a proud member of the “Filthy Few” club, allowed to wear the patch because he’d buried someone. I supposed I could wear that patch now, if I wanted to. I didn’t really want to. “Have you heard from Mahalia since all this shit went down earlier?”

I cringed inside. That she hadn’t responded to my text meant Chiles had taken away her phone and most likely seen my text telling her to join me. “No. Really, we need to move on this dead body thing.” I explained it to Sledgehammer, who nodded sagely throughout.

He said, “Sounds like we need to take a drive to this mine and document this shit. If you want to try to get ownership of the mine back, you don’t want these bodies on your hands.”

“Yeah, before he locks you out of the mine, too,” said Dingo.

I pulled out my phone. “We don’t need to. Dust Bunny already took photos.” As I went to find the dead body photos on my phone, Mahalia’s return text came in.

“It’s Mahalia!” I fled from the room like a star-crossed lover electrified into action. I could hear Sledgehammer and Dingo laughing at me, but I didn’t give a flying f*ck. I went onto the front porch so their moronic voices wouldn’t bug me.

We made it out. We’re having a drink at the High Dive. I am thanking the powers that be for blessing me with you. Please tell me how to proceed.

“What the f*ck?” I murmured. Striding back in the house, I texted, walked, and talked at the same time. “Guys! They’re at the High Dive!”

“What’s that?” Sledgehammer asked, emerging from Dingo’s room. “Some kind of athletic club?”

My fingers couldn’t fly fast enough on the f*cking keyboard.

We’re coming to get you. Stay put. Don’t let that * bartender scare you.

Dingo was right behind me. “I’ll take my own scoot in case she needs to ride on your * pad.”

“Good idea. Sledgehammer, you take yours too. I don’t know how we’re going to ferry them all here, if she got her sister-wife with her.”

Sledgehammer chuckled. “Sister-wife. Man, Fortunati, you’re living in some reality show.”

I wasn’t in the mood to laugh, although Sledge was right. “What I f*cking wonder is, why is she having a drink?”

Dingo was already mounting his ride. “Kimball must be with her. I used to watch her gardening in front of her house. She is very beautiful.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got a traitor for a f*cking kid,” I said. I didn’t feel bad about calling a twelve-year-old a traitor. He had it coming to him. “Hope the others have more loyalty to their moms.”

I sped away, thrashing it around the potholes on the street.

The main drag of Crosstown Street was only about half a mile away. Strangely, Mahalia’s pickup truck was parked around the back. I wondered why she took the time and risked coming here for a drink when she could’ve come straight to my house. I proceeded with caution, making sure there was a bullet in the chamber of the weapon I’d borrowed from Sledge.

I waited for the other two before entering the bar, just in case. Dust Bunny, currently working at the mine, had been able to give Dingo a few lessons at the outdoor range. Dingo swaggered with the weight of his Smith and Wesson stuck into his waistband. He was still a weird amalgamation of biker and nerd. He wore the Assassins cut with the PROSPECT patch, but his piece was shoved into a pair of khaki cargo pants with a thousand pockets.

“Okay,” I said, “this could possibly be a setup. Who the hell knows who got ahold of Mahalia’s phone?”

“Right,” said Dingo. “Could’ve been Chiles texting.”

“We’ll go in like a SWAT team,” said Sledgehammer. He was always eager to reenact the glory days with his Marines special ops unit. “Gideon, you kick in the door.”

“It’s a swinging door,” Dingo pointed out.