Hanging up, Ape shoved the phone into his pocket and looked at the stars above his head. Virginia wasn’t so far away that they couldn’t get there tomorrow. They’d find the asshole eventually.
Ape smiled. With those fucking tats, Ape had turned Indian into a fucking bull’s-eye, hadn’t he? It sure did make him happy.
Goddamn, I’m smart.
OceanofPDF.com
12
Sore and painfully sober now, Clay spent the early morning hours scouring the town of Blackwood for Sultans and finding nothing. Nothing still.
He remembered the shrink had listed hypervigilance as one of the many possible symptoms of PTSD.
Had there even been bikes in town the other night, or had he imagined them?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was he losing it entirely?
Probably, he decided. Probably.
A month. Four whole fucking weeks until his next laser treatment. He should go do something while he waited. Maybe head elsewhere so as not to remain in one place too long. Four weeks. After that, there’d be just over five months until the trial date. Couldn’t go by fast enough.
Rather than hole back up in the hotel, peeking out from behind the curtains, or parking himself outside of the doc’s house like a messed-up guard dog, he needed distraction. Something. Anything.
A good fight would do it.
But as soon as he walked through the front door of the gym, he wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake.
Something was off. The noise, first of all, was at a volume he hadn’t experienced here before. Kids, it sounded like, and a quick glance around proved that to be the case.
He should have turned and walked out right then and there. He should have, but he didn’t actually have anywhere else to go, so he stayed. The tickly, wrong sensation only intensified when Steve approached him, big smile on his face.
“Good to see you, Mr. Andrew Blane,” the sheriff said, and on that note, Clay did turn. He didn’t wait to find out what was afoot but took four strides and almost made it to the door by the time the other man caught up to him and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Need a favor, son.”
Clay stilled. “What?”
“Got an instructor out today. Need someone to teach the class.”
“Well, then you teach it.”
“Can’t. Got someplace I gotta be.”
“Yeah, well, me too.” He shook off the older man’s hand and walked outside.
He’d made it a few more steps when the man’s voice rang out, too loud. Too damn loud. “Just hold it right there, young man.” Clay stopped, recognizing that law enforcement tone for what it was, knowing it inside out but obeying it nonetheless. Steve drew closer and planted his body right beside him. “Told you I needed a teacher.”
“I’m not a teacher.”
“Yeah, well, give it a try.”
“No. Kids hate me.”
“You think I haven’t looked into who you are?” Steve whispered. “Read about a case last night. Some big multi-agency biker club takedown up in Maryland.”
“No, you can’t tr—”
“Shut it.” This was serious Steve now, not the jovial old man, and this guy had the kind of authority you didn’t ignore. “I’m letting you camp out here because the arrangement suits me, got it? All I need is one little sign of trouble from you, and I’ll make a couple phone calls to some folks I know up near Baltimore.”
“You’d give me up?” Clay asked, shocked.
