Chapter 56

 

 

Ron was hungry and he was mad. Dammit—why hadn’t he thought to stock the house with more food? He’d eaten so much delivery pizza he ought to be speaking Italian by now. And why had he run from those goons, straight into the traffic?

From his semi-permanent position on the sofa, he bent his left leg and gingerly pulled off his sock to have a look. The foot was dark purple, nearly black in places—that couldn’t be good. And there were red streaks radiating from the cut on his calf. He should have taken the priest up on his offer to go to the ER, but those kinds of things always got tricky. They wanted his insurance card—he didn’t have any—or they would take a Medicaid card. Didn’t have that either. Life off the grid was great, until it wasn’t.

From the way the entire limb was throbbing, though, he knew he’d better see somebody. There was an urgent care center a few miles away. He could manage to drive himself there, get some antibiotics, and pay in cash.

With a plan in mind, he pulled on a pair of jeans. Even his loosest pair of shoes wouldn’t go on over the swollen left foot now, so he bundled it in extra socks. From his cash stash in the closet he pulled out enough to cover the doctor visit, stuffing bills into his pockets.

The car took a couple of minutes to warm up. He rubbed his hands together briskly; it felt like more weather was on the way. When he raised the garage door, he felt a momentary stab of fear that one of those female agents would be out there, somehow knowing he was about to show his face again. But a glance in each direction told him their vehicles were not nearby.

The urgent care center he’d planned to visit was closed. He cursed his luck, but he knew of another one a bit farther away. He imagined going back home and then having to talk himself into going back out. With more rain on the way, he might as well get this over with, grab a bucket of chicken to last awhile, and get back home where at least he could be warm and comfortable.

The Superstition Creek Urgent Care looked jammed. The entire front parking lot was full; he even cruised through it twice in hopes that someone would vacate a space. No such luck. The lot behind the building had a few empties and he took one. The walk to the front door would be agony, but he told himself to buck up.

“I’ve been through more pain than this,” he muttered, although he couldn’t honestly think of an example. He opened his door and swung the tortured leg out.

A shadow fell across the open door. “Thought that looked like you,” said one of the goons. “You clean up real good, homeless guy.” He had a grip on Ron’s car door and looked as though he was contemplating slamming it against Ron’s leg. The mere thought made Ron want to throw up.

“Let’s take a little walk,” said the second man. “We got something to discuss.” He grabbed Ron’s left arm and yanked him to stand up.

When Ron nearly collapsed, the guy who had him by the arm chuckled. “Boss said to teach him a lesson. Think he’s learned it yet, Pete?”

Pete shook his head. “He’s a slow learner.” He looked toward the clinic and saw a couple coming out to the parking lot. He stared hard at Ron. “Not doin’ so good walking, huh? Well, we’ll take a little ride then.”

Like two helpful buddies, they each took one of Ron’s arms and guided him toward the car they’d left sitting a few feet away. They shoved Ron into the back seat, and Pete got behind the wheel while the other one climbed in beside their prisoner. Pete began to drive.

“Boss don’t like people helping theirselves to his money,” said the guy beside him, his voice low and almost seductive. “We’re supposed to share that message and make sure you don’t do it again.”

With that, he grabbed Ron’s right hand and wrenched violently at the fingers, twisting them until the bones crackled.

“You gonna promise not to take money that ain’t yours now?”

“I promise! I promised last time.”

“Yeah, but we wasn’t sure you got the message.”

“I got it, already! I got it!”

Pete was eying him in the rearview mirror as he drove. “Promises come cheap. We gotta make sure you remember.”

Ron never saw the uppercut coming. Pain shot through his jaw and felt as if it were coming out his eyeballs. He gasped and tears ran down his cheeks.

“Just let me out,” he begged. “I’ll never go near that place again.”

“Damn right you won’t,” said the one beside him.

From the front seat, Pete was smirking. “Bet you will.”

“No! I swear I won’t! Never!”

“Oh, like not even now?”

Ron looked out the window and saw they were arriving at the Temple of the Rising Moon. Shit! What would their boss do to him?

“I think we performed our duties, don’t you, Kurt? I say we hand deliver him and see if this ain’t worth a little extra bonus.”

Kurt gave an evil chuckle. Pete pulled the car around the side of the building and came to an abrupt stop.

“What the fu—! The bus is gone.”

“And the trailer.” Kurt looked a little pale.

“Oh, man, we’re screwed. Quick! Dump him and let’s get the hell out.” Pete was already out of his seat. He yanked open the back door and grabbed Ron’s left arm, twisting it up behind his back as he landed on his bad foot.

“We can’t give him the chance to talk,” Kurt said, joining in and dragging their victim toward a clump of cactus.

His arm swung back, preparing for another of those uppercut punches. Ron’s last thought was that he’d probably just wet himself, right before everything went black.