Page 70 of Guarding Glenda

Leigh

Fucking work. Damn. I wanted to just scoop her up and go home, but after all the hot water I was in, I knew that wasn’t possible. My new goal in life was to make her come at least three times a day, and go one full week without Hammer getting to hit or flog me. Jesus.

Manny hadn’t texted me back, but I had to get to work.

I liked working with my hands. The only class I enjoyed in high school was auto shop. I don’t even think that’s what it was called. But after taking that a few years, I knew I wanted to tinker with engines.

I could fix anything with a motor but most diesel shops wanted a certificate now. But it worked out since we own this shop. I can work on whatever shows up. Mechanics were my favorite, but I’d picked up some body work over the years. The shop did bikes, cars, trucks, ATVs, you name it. If it had an engine, we’d take it.

After changing an alternator and starting on a transmission, Froggy told me it was quitting time.

“That went by fast,” I said as I headed to the sink to wash my hands. “Hey, you seen that kid Manny lately?”

Froggy’s wavy light brown hair nearly fell in his eyes and he pushed it aside. “He came by a lot more once he got in trouble at work. But it’s been a couple of days now that you mention it.” He shrugged, then patted my shoulder. “I’ll see ya at the clubhouse. Good to have you back, brother.”

“I’ll be there soon. Gotta make a quick stop.” I’d texted Manny again later in the day and still nothing. I’d swing by because the fact Sam hadn’t heard from him and he hadn’t been by the clubhouse for a couple days didn’t sit well.

After getting as much grease off me as I could, I grabbed my cut from the breakroom. Pulling it on, it hit me: I didn't have my bike. I couldn’t go out later in the truck. I’d have to switch vehicles, then switch them again to get Glenda.

I needed to eat something, and I told her I’d be back, but Manny’s was the opposite direction, and I still needed to run by there. But Bruce needed to be let out, too. I’d figure that out. For now, I waved to the guys still lingering up front with the bunny that ran the desk, then headed out.

It was already getting dark outside and the air was cool. It would still be a nice night for a ride later. I didn’t mind hauling Glenda around in the truck, but a ride always was good for my soul. Selfishly, I hoped she stopped having episodes again so she could ride with me. Of course I wanted her to be okay, but I wanted all of her, in every way. I’d managed to get her into my house, get her under me, and now all that was left was my bike and a patch.

I’d wanted her for so long, loved her almost as long as that. Knowing she burned up Reggie’s property patch wasn’t smart, but it also showed me she’d finally seen him for what he was. She cut the last tether to him, and has been with me since. Now I had to figure out if I should talk to her or Hammer first about it.

Lots of women wanted to be patched. Lots of women wanted to be surprised. But Glenda had already done that song and dance and it didn’t turn out well for her. Plus, any shocks to her system could set her off.

As I headed to Manny’s, I kept pondering how to approach the subject with her without completely giving away my plans to get Hammer’s permission.

Manny was in the opposite direction of the clubhouse from my place. Where he stayed was down a long stretch of country road with no street lights. There were empty, overgrown lots that used to hold houses but they never got rebuilt after the big hurricane came through. The remaining were older houses, small and plain. Folks on state assistance filled most of the homes. It was the type of neighborhood that didn’t call the police, but they still rode through fairly often.

A few of the houses had lights on inside, but they all had the curtains drawn. I pulled onto the short gravel driveway and hopped out of the truck. Looking around, I didn’t see anything out of place. But Manny’s bike was parked under the standalone carport that looked like it was one good rain away from rust taking it down.

The gravel had tire tracks from a car or truck, but Manny could have had visitors. Still seemed odd. He was prospecting, and those guys usually stayed glued to the clubhouse when possible. Plenty of food, drink, and ass. Plus, the more you were around, the easier it was to volunteer for shit for the officers. Manny wasn’t there but a few times a week, usually because of work, but he still made an appearance. Since he’d been suspended, it seemed like he would have stayed around more. And he definitely would answer if one of us texted him.

I got to the side door and knocked a couple times. After no answer, I checked, and it wasn’t locked. That alone wasn’t reason for alarm. Most people wouldn’t break into houses on this street, especially if someone was home.

Poking my head in, I listened but didn’t hear anything. “Manny?”

Stepping inside the small kitchen with my pistol in hand, I turned to close the door and noticed a smudge. Flicking the light on, I leaned down. Looked like bloody fingerprints that dragged across for a beat, probably closing the door behind them.

Straightening quickly, I pulled my phone out and shot a text to Bama to let him know where I was, and that something seemed off. After shoving it back in my pocket, I crept around the house, looking for signs of movement. The drawers in the kitchen were open, and a few bills were strewn across the small two-person table against the wall.

The cushions were pulled up from the sofa and chair in the living room, and the sofa had been moved away from the wall.

What the fuck were they looking for?

After slowly stepping down the hall, I pushed the bathroom door, and the bathroom seemed in order. But a few steps ahead, I looked in the bedroom. It had been torn up. I walked in and stopped when I looked down.

“Shit.” I leaned down to the bloody and motionless body, checking his neck. “Oh, fuck.” I felt a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. I shoved my gun into my pants then knelt down, pulling my cell out. “C’mon, Manny. You awake, man?” I asked, patting his cheek.

I dialed Sam, but it went to voicemail.

Once it beeped, I said, “Hey, need you at the back of the clinic, about fifteen minutes, maybe less. I found Manny.”

I ended the call, then looked him over. His face was almost unrecognizable and his legs were splayed awkwardly. They had to be broken.

I shot a text to Bama to let him know I was fine, but headed to the clinic with Manny.