Page 358 of Devil’s Disciples

“The perfect kind of perfect.”

“How the fuck’d you fit a concrete-encased head in your saddlebag?”

“It’s not as big as you’d think.”

I glanced around the roof deck. I hated the thought of it, but keeping the body pieces at the beachfront home was in the club’s best interest. “Best place, as much as I hate saying it, is up here. Nobody’ll come up here looking for ‘em. Hell, I’ll paint ‘em black and stack flower pots on top of ‘em.”

He laughed. “Sounds like a great idea.”

“You’re carrying ‘em up here, though. This is you and Cash’s handiwork. You get ‘em up here, I’ll keep an eye on ‘em.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

Later that night, just before sunset, I copped a squat on a bench beside the dead cop’s head. I drank my umpteenth cup of coffee for the day. I gazed out at the ocean and drew a breath of the crisp winter air.

The sweet smell of the ocean and taste of salt lingered in the air. The pulse of the waves was rhythmic. Predictable.

Soothing.

The sun folded behind a cloud along the horizon. The sky transformed from a soft blue to oranges and pinks. The bright colors eventually faded, only to be replaced by a deep translucent indigo.

I closed my eyes and let the waves take me away.

My mind drifted to thoughts of Ally. Not of fucking her in the car, but of the first time I saw her. The day her natural beauty caused me to drift off into a sexual daydream.

It was her outer beauty that originally drew me to her. I later learned her lack of fear, outgoing personality, and willingness to challenge me were far more beautiful than her appearance. I’d never met a woman with enough spunk to stand up to me. Now that I had, I realized how valuable of an asset it was.

The sun setting along the ocean’s horizon brought a smile to my face. I’d lived a matter of a few miles from the ocean for eighteen years and had rarely taken time to experience its majestic beauty.

The only sound was of the waves washing ashore. As I let the depth of it all seep into my soul, I realized there was one place on earth that could satisfy all a man’s senses.

I was fortunate enough to have it as my yard.

129

Ally

I surveyed the glass case. It was filled with overpriced knives, throwing stars, and miscellaneous other bullshit that would appeal to angry teens. On the walls, various branches of military uniforms hung, many from generations that had long since passed. I was obviously in the wrong place.

I turned toward the door. A man’s voice from behind me caused me to hesitate.

“If there’s something you’re looking for and it’s not on display,” he said, his tone hoarse and gravely. “I’ve probably got in in the back. If not, it’ll be in our warehouse.”

I turned around, expecting an elderly man. A bearded man in his mid-twenties stood on the opposite side of the glass case. Bits and pieces of his hair went in every possible direction. The buttons on the blouse of his improperly sized uniform were straining the thread that held them in place.

“I was looking for night vision,” I said dismissively.

“Monocular, scope, or goggles?”

“Goggles. I wanted a—”

“We’ve got the PNW-57E Russian-issue night vision for four hundred.”

“That’s a piece of Soviet crap,” I said. “I was looking for the US-issue—”

“We’ve got the PVS-7, which is the current-issue for US and Allied forces. They’re forty-five hundred. What are you going to be using it for?”

I rolled my eyes. “Looking at shit in the dark.”