Page 8 of Kiwi

"A small mom and pop gas station just outside Baton Rouge."

"They touch her?" I ask and pray like hell, for their sake, that they didn't.

"Piper says, no. Either way, I don't give a fuck." Nova pauses a beat, and I can tell he's fighting mad and struggling to contain it. "She found her tire slashed when she came back out of the store."

"The fuck!" I growl.

"I know the place, but I want to see the bastards' faces."

He doesn't have to say it twice. My ass is in the chair, staring at the computer screen. The longer it takes me to trace down the location, tap into the system, the more pissed I get. "There." I stop when Piper's vehicle pulls up to the gas pump. We watch her climb out, then walk inside. One of two ugly-ass motherfuckers who was standing by the corner of the building makes their way over. He squats, hiding his body between the car and the trash bin nearby, so we can't make out in detail what he is doing. "He slashed the tire," I state, as the dirtbag walks away, shoving his hand into his pocket. Piper exits the store several minutes later to find the two men are already standing beside her car when she walks up. They strike up a conversation with her, then point out her flat.

"I've seen enough," Nova grits.

"What's the plan?"

"You up for a ride?" he asks.

After a quick word with Riggs, Nova and I slip out the back. An hour later, we roll up to the gas station. After talking with the older man, who owns the place, he was more than happy to help us identify the men we are looking for, saying the two do nothing but cause him problems. The older man points toward the rundown trailer park across the street. "The Thibodeaux brothers. They live there, Lot number 32, I believe. Nothin' but two sorry pieces of trash if you ask me. Fuckin' grown-ass men still livin' with their momma, who, I heard, is currently in the hospital. They steal every penny of that poor lady's disability check every month to feed their alcohol addiction." The old guy shakes his head.

"Appreciate your help, old man," Nova says.

"You got it." He shuffles behind the counter. "By the way," he catches us before walking out of the store, "Those boys are gun owners. They won't hesitate to shoot," he warns. Pulling my cut open, he catches a glimpse of my weapon strapped in the holster at my side.

"I wish a fucker would try," I state, then walk out of the door. "We should leave our bikes here," I suggest to Nova once we are outside and scan our surroundings. We are damn near in the middle of nowhere. There's not much to this little town if you can even call it that. I hear a buzzing, and Nova pulls his phone from his pocket. He shakes his head as he taps at the screen. "Everything okay, mate?"

"Just Prez checkin' in." He shoves his phone away. "Let's get this shit takin' care of so I can get back home to my family."

Night has fallen and it's dark as shit once we enter the trailer park. Not one damn streetlight works, only the soft glow from a few trailers with porch lights. Rocks crunch beneath our feet as we travel down the unpaved road, stopping once we reach lot number 32. A couple of broken-down trucks are sitting in the short driveway, and noise from a TV coming from an open window—Nova motions for us to check the perimeter. Circling the small single-wide trailer, I peer into the windows, then meet Nova at the porch. "One of those assholes in the back bedroom gettin' his dick sucked," I tell him.

"The other asshole is passed out in the living room," Nova says, retrieving his gun. I do the same, walking up the rickety steps to the front door. He wraps his hand around the knob, twisting it, and pushes open the door. The stench of stale beer and rotten food hits us. Quietly, I close the door behind me as Nova crosses the room. He presses the end of his barrel into the guy's open mouth, stifling his snoring, and the fucker gags as he pries open his eyes. Nova warns the guy as he becomes aware and tries to reach between the couch cushions. "Move again, and I'll blow your fuckin' head off." The guy raises his hands, and his eyes dart over to me, then back to Nova. "Hey, brother. I've got this one. What do you say you bring the other one to the party?"

I move through the kitchen to my left, then down a short hallway toward the back bedroom and open the door. The filthy son of a bitch who slashed Piper's tire is sprawled out on his back, still getting his half-hard dick serviced, and never hears me enter the room. The woman who is bobbing on his knob stops, causing him to open his eyes. He rises on his elbows to look at her.

"Bitch, did I tell you…" his words fall short once he sees me, then shoves the woman, causing her to scream. I have to give the bastard some credit. His reaction is swift. Jackknifing from the bed, he reaches for a revolver I spot lying on the nightstand. Unfortunately for him, I'm quicker and plant my heavy boot between his legs. Holding his dick, he screams in agony. I lift my gun, aiming it at his head.

The guy looks down at his crotch, lifting one of his hands, sees blood, and judging by the unnatural angle his manhood is currently in, I would say his day just went from bad to worse. "I need a doctor," the asshole screeches at the sight of his broken dick.

I look at the woman, who has slunk off the bed and frozen in fear. "Out," I bark. Scrambling, she snatches her bag from the floor and runs past me. I turn my attention back to the guy. "Get up." When he doesn't attempt to move, I grab a fist full of his greasy hair and jerk him off the bed. Still holding his dick, he stumbles out of the bedroom door.

Upon entering the living room, I shove the naked asshole to the floor. He falls to his knees, blood trickling to the floor from between his legs. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" The brother Nova has at gunpoint spits.

Using his weapon, Nova cracks the guy across the face. "Let's see if we can jog your memories. This morning, a young woman stopped for gas across the street, and you slashed her tire."

"What fucking business is it of yours?" The skeezy brother kneeling in front of me on the floor spits as he shoots daggers between Nova and me.

His attitude earns him a blow to the head, and he falls to his side. "You picked the wrong woman to prey on, motherfucker." I don't stop there and begin stomping the fuck out of him, burying the toe of my boot in his ribcage numerous times, until he's spitting blood and coughing for air.

"Shit, man. Stop before you kill him," his brother pleads.

"You're lucky we don't shoot you dead," Nova growls.

"Consider this little visit a warning. You and your brother are on our shit list. Prey on another woman again, and all you'll have to worry about are the maggots eating your corpses." Nova knocks the fucker out cold, his body falling to the sofa. My brother glances at my feet, where the other cocksucker lays in the fetal position, moaning. "Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

The following morning,I'm in the barn working on a bike. The fat orange tomcat that has been hanging around since I moved into the place jumps from the overhead rafters. He swats at the sweaty bandana draped on my knee, stealing it as I tighten a frame bolt. "What the hell, Tom?" The cat looks at me like I've offended him in some way. He picks it up in his mouth, then totters away with his goods. "Damn thief. That's the fifth one you've stolen this week." Using the back of my hand, I wipe the sweat from my brow. "My cat is a damn klepto." I shake my head. Not only that, but the damn cat also brings me dead mice—only the heads. He leaves them on the front porch, right on the welcome mat, so that I won't miss them. I'm convinced he's part of some feline mafia or some shit. I don't know if he's plotting my murder or it's just his way of being nice.

Standing, I wipe my palms down the front of my jeans and walk outside. The goats make noise the moment they see me. Yep. Nubian Goats, to be exact. They came with the property and the house I bought. I was getting such a good deal on the house that the animals being part of the asking price didn't deter me. The only problem is, now that I have them, I don't know what the hell to do with them. Leaning against the fence, I watch the two babies climb around on the old barrels and tires. The roar of a Harley causes me to turn my head. Wonder what Riggs is doing out here this morning? He rolls his bike right up to the barn, where he parks it. "How's it goin', Prez?"

"Good. How about yourself?" He gets off his bike and stretches his back. "I see you're makin' progress on the bike." Riggs walks in through the open barn doors. He takes a bandana from his back pocket and wipes his forehead. "Even Satan's sweatin' today," he remarks.

I stride over to the cooler beside my toolbox, lift the lid and grab a couple of cold beers from the ice bath. "It's the hottest day of summer yet," I agree with him and hand him the beer.

"Thanks, brother." He pops off the top and takes a swig. "Goddamn, that hits the spot."

"What brings you out here?" I ask, taking a drink of my beer.

"I've got a proposition for you." Riggs leans against the old tractor. "I got a call from Jake this mornin'. He would like to expand Kings Custom, and possibly open a shop here in New Orleans."

"That sounds like a great idea," I tell him.

"Exactly. And we would like you to manage the place."

I drop the beer from my lips. "You're shittin' me?"

Riggs grins. "No bullshit." He gestures to the bike I'm working on now. "It's already a side job for you anyway. You are a great mechanic, Kiwi. There's no one better qualified than you." Riggs downs his beer. "So, what do ya say, brother?"

"Hell yeah, brother. Where and when do we start?"