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Clink. Chk.

_ _

_ _ Dallas sat perturbed in his usual seat at the bar the next afternoon, absentmindedly opening and closing his polished brass Zippo lighter while some of his goons laughed at each other across the pool table.

"Fuck." The cougar swore, and slapped the lighter down on the bar top. He grabbed his beer, downed it, clapped it down on the damp, cardboard coaster and shook his head while Rob poured him his third round. Dallas would be halfway into it before he spoke again.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." He groaned, leaned back on the wooden barstool and rubbed his eyes. He wasn't even mad about his now-useless ten thousand dollars. It was chump change compared to his ill-gotten net worth - Frank's untimely death left him with one fewer option, bringing the toll to zero. He lit a cigarette and scoured his brain for options, casually interested in the conversation going on to his right.

"Man, it just goes to show you that the upper management doesn't give a hoot about anything other than who's kissing who's ass around there, you know? Jim got the promotion that I was lined up for, and now I'm still repairing busted pipelines in this heat. Can you believe that shit?"

_ _

_ _ And the gears began to turn.

***

It was a quiet day at Doghouse when the crew learned of Frank's untimely passing.

Reid sighed, standing at the window of his office and looking out at the track. The fur on his cheeks was still wet with tears, and his eyes were puffy and red. Frank had been a longtime fixture at the shop, nearing his ten year mark with the company. Chris sat on the dyno in the garage, alone, his face in his hands. Vance leaned against the doorjamb of the break room while Hector and Lucy sat inside, morose and quiet as they'd ever been.

"I have to go to the morgue." Reid said when he'd finally collected himself. He wiped his eyes again. Vance nodded. The cattle dog peered through the window at Chris, sitting by himself at the far end of the bay, alone and unmoving.

"I'll be back shortly."

Frank had been mostly covered by a blue sheet. And by mostly covered, his face was the only thing showing. Reid stood idly by in the morgue, his hands shoved into his pockets while the technician re-zipped the black bag containing what the rat had left behind.

"We weren't able to contact or even find any next of kin." He explained, sliding Frank's body back into the freezer, "It's a good thing he had his business cards on him."

"Frank didn't have any family."

"That's unfortunate."

"It is."

Reid made it a point to get back to work as soon as possible. He didn't like the hospital, and besides, with yet another man gone, everyone was going to have to put in overtime, including him. He was just on his way out of the building when he spied someone with whom he needed to speak, and urgently so.

"Thank you Rigo, you've been absolutely wonderful!" An elderly woman said as the stud of a wolf wheeled her husband out of the hospital in a wheelchair.

"My pleasure, Mrs. Brightwell." He said, smiling at her and returning a hug while another nurse helped Mr. Brightwell into a waiting car. Reid stood by, watching the scene unfold. Mrs. Brightwell kissed Rigo on the cheek and patted his shoulders before turning to join her previously sick husband in the car.

"Rigo!"

The wolf's ears pricked and swiveled in the direction of the call, followed by the rest of him.

"Oh, hey. Reid, right?"

"Yeah, how you doing, man?"

"I've been well, and yourself?" He returned, aloof. He seemed busy, so Reid vowed not to take up too much of his time, but they were only a greeting into the conversation and the wolf already seemed more interested in the clipboard in his hands.

"Fine, I suppose. One of our guys, Frank, he was killed in a car accident last night. I had to come down here for some...some stuff."

"Oh, that's tragic. I'm sorry. Excuse me." Rigo said and began a long-legged stride for a nurse's station nearby. Reid kept up.

"Yeah, hey, listen, I wanted to talk to you about Lucy."

Rigo stopped mid-stride and turned to look at the older canine with a look of hurt, tinged with curiosity. Reid started playing a crossword in his head, attempting to organize his thoughts in a manner that would take as little of the wolf's time as possible.

"What about her?"

"Do you have a minute?"

Rigo glanced at his watch and then back to where the other nurses were.

"I suppose I could break for lunch."

***

"I had lunch with Lucy yesterday. She explained everything to me."

"Well, then you probably know more than I do." Rigo replied, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair a little bit. They'd made small talk over a couple of burritos at a nearby Chipotle, and it had given the older dog a chance to organize his thoughts.

"If it makes you feel any better, we were just as much in the dark as you were." Reid started, hoping that it would, "We didn't know, well, I mean..." I did, he thought.

"Forgive me, but that's anything but conciliatory. Lying to your employer is one thing, but I'm her boyfriend. How could she lie to me about something like that? I'm supposed to be the person she can trust more than anyone and I've always tried to be that person for her."

"I know, I know. Rigo, it's something that you have to understand about Lucy, she's got some...I guess you could call them 'issues' that she's dealing with. It's hard for her to trust people because of them, and well, I suppose that once she got the whole act started, she just had to roll with it."

"I feel like a tool." Rigo muttered, picking up his drink as they got up to leave, "I've given her so much, and I almost feel like it's for nothing. Like I don't even know the person I've given my heart to."

Reid walked out first, holding the door for Rigo so he could shamelessly eyeball the wolf's tush as they exited the restaurant, "It's not too late, you know. I know it's been tough. It's been hard on Lucy too, but when she and I spoke yesterday, she really expressed interest in coming clean about a lot of things to you. Things about her past that she hasn't told you yet."

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Look, Rigo, you need to understand how hard this is on her. It wasn't at all easy for her to talk about what she's gone through. I'm not at liberty to disclose it, but all I'm asking you to do is give her a second chance to be honest with you. She really loves you."

The wolf nodded and looked down at the ground, almost ashamed.

"I guess you're right. I'm starting to miss my home, too."

"That too." Reid added, watching the hospital come into view.

"You know, I think it's great that you care so much about Lucy. There aren't many bosses out there who would go to bat for their employees like this. You sure don't see that around here." He added cuttingly, jerking his head in the direction of the hospital.

"Well hey, you know, we're such a small operation. We're like a family around there."

Rigo smiled, "That's good. Well, thanks for the lunch."

"Yeah, you're welcome. Hey, Rigo?"

Rigo turned around.

"Not too long ago I was in a relationship. First one in years." Reid started, faltering, his mouth hanging open, his words suspended in mid-air while the wolf waited for him to continue, "His name was Aiden. And he made me forget about all the bad things I've done in my life. For the first time, I felt like I had a surefire chance to come to grips with it all because I'd finally found myself, and someone I could be myself with, and be happy with in spite of my past."

Rigo dared not ask him what happened to this Aiden, as he feared the worst of answers. So he continued to wait.

"Be her Aiden."

The wolf nodded. Reid smiled poignantly and turned to walk away, but not before sneaking in another look. If only...

***

It had been far too long of a day for Vance to tolerate the sound of his crying daughter in the bedroom when he arrived home. The drone of a shruti box accompanied the sounds of Indian sitar music, and the pit bull walked into the living room to see his wife engaging in the oddest of interpretive dances.

"Blaine."

Blaine waved her arms about rhythmically and slowly, watching her fingers as though they were fireflies in the dark, her eyes glazed over with what looked vaguely like a drug-induced haze. On the entertainment center, incense and candles burned. Sighing, Vance walked over and shut off the stereo.

"Hey!"

"Do you not hear Kaitlin crying?" He asked angrily, gesturing towards the bedroom.

"Oh! Oh, I guess I didn't, I'm sorry."

Vance rolled his eyes, "I'll take care of her. Here, finish...whatever it is you're doing." He slapped the button on the stereo to turn it back on, and strode off to the bedroom where the little one was pitching a fit.

"Vance!" Blaine protested, following him into the bedroom, "Dr. Ramachandran prescribed this practice to me; it's a common post-partum technique to realign the chakras for-"

"I don't care what Dr. Rama-lama-ding-dong said, okay? Do you what you have to do to take care of whatever it is you've got going on, but be a parent first!" Vance retorted hotly, picking up his daughter and laying her down on the changing table.

"You don't care." Blaine said sadly.

"I_do_ care, Blaine. I just have my priorities in order, that's all."

"And you don't think I do?" She asked, watching her husband pitch a wadded up diaper into the pail, "I don't expect you to understand what it's like after giving birth, but you need to understand that I'm doing what's best to create a healthy environment for Kaitlin. I - you know, I-I feed her, and bathe her, and change her all day while you're at work, and you come home and you get on my case because of one unchanged diaper, she can't have been in it for long, I literally just changed her like thirty minutes ago."

Vance rolled his eyes and turned around, leaning against the changing table and tapping his ring against the edge of it.

"I don't want to argue about this. Not in front of her. It's not good."

She nodded and paused at the door for a second, then turned and walked out while her husband finished tending to their daughter. Once the pit bull had gotten the little one down for a nap, he walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where his wife sat nursing a cup of organic herbal tea, also prescribed by her doctor.

"Sorry, it's just hard for me to understand."

Blaine was quiet.

"I mean, where did all of this come from? It's as if pregnancy changed you somehow, you started seeing this healer-dude, and now suddenly you've gone from Victoria's Secret to these...environmentally-friendly, hemp-"

"Vance, this is what makes me happy! Doesn't that mean anything to you? If I'm happy, Kaitlin's happy, that's the environment I'm trying to create for her here at home, an environment of peace and tranquility. The treatments that Dr. Ramachandran prescribed me are warding off stress and post-partum depression."

"Okay." Vance got up from the table. His quiet response was all he could manage in the wake of what Blaine was talking about. She'd subscribed to this quack with such devotion that there was no turning her around by this point. All he could hope for was that she would grow out of it, but like anything, only time would tell.

***

"See you tomorrow, Reid."

"Bye Lucy. Have a good night."

"You too." Lucy called back to him on her way out the door, car keys in hand. She unlocked her BMW and started it up with its uncharacteristic, big-block Chevy growl.

What an exhausting day, she thought to herself as she put it in gear and took off out of the parking lot down the highway, headed to the house she knew was going to be as vacant as it had been that morning. She wondered when Rigo was going to come home. He had to sooner or later, right? And what about Frank? Poor Frank. Thinking about his untimely expiration made her grateful for what she still had left.

A short drive found her in the driveway of her home, parked neatly on the left side of the sloped, concrete drive. She set the brake, turned off the car and headed inside, only to smell something the moment she entered. It smelled like...chateaubriand, and béarnaise sauce. It couldn't be...

If Rodrigo Cabrera had been destined to work in a field other than healthcare, it would have been to work in the kitchens of Gordon Ramsay himself. He was a master chef in his own right, able to take even the most abominable of concoctions Lucy started and turn them around into something so palatable there were hardly ever any leftovers. Chateaubriand was a specialty of his, and something he typically reserved for special occasions, considering the amount of work that went into its preparation.

Lo and behold, as she rounded the corner into the kitchen of their home, there was Rigo, standing at the stove and gently stirring the béarnaise as it simmered in the pot. Nearby was a set dining table, complete with the fine china they never used, silverware, and two tall candles burning, flanking a vase of flowers in her favorite color.

"Rigo?" She choked out, a pained smile crossing her face. He turned around to look at her, smiled, then turned off the fire and took off his apron, draping it over the back of a chair as he crossed the room to hug her.

"I'm so sorry..." She sobbed, burying her face in his chest, dotting his nice dress shirt with teardrops. With every sob-fueling breath she took, she inhaled the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It always complimented his natural scent so flawlessly.

"Shh. It's all right. It's all right; we're going to be okay. Everything is okay now." He cooed, reassuring her as he stroked her hair, its texture rough from being in the sun and the grease she spent all day around.

"What made you come back?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She didn't really care - she was just glad he'd returned.

"Reid came and talked to me at the hospital. He said the two of you had lunch yesterday and you had some things you wanted to tell me. So I'm here. I'm listening. And Lucy, whatever it is, I want you to know that I'll be here to support you. I'll be here, no matter what. I love you. Even if you are only eighteen and from Texas."

She laughed through her tears and apologized for the stains she left on his shirt. He smiled, told her to go clean up and that he would have dinner ready when she got done.

When the sound of the shower started running, Rigo pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, placing his elbows on his knees and hanging his head while he stared at the floor. He wondered what Lucy was going to tell him, and he wondered what she was not going to tell him. He wondered if she was even going to tell the truth. He wondered how he was going to proceed, but he figured that if he believed her, there would be no reason not to follow through with his plans.

Lucy cried her eyes out in the shower, why, she didn't know, but it felt good. Her tears were an odd mix of happy, sad, exhausted, and everything in between. She cried for Rigo. For Frank. For herself. Emotions just got the better of her she assumed, but it wasn't something she was going to dwell on. Not when there was chateaubriand for two to be eaten.

Kitchen sounds could be heard down the hall when she got to the bedroom, sufficiently dry. Dinner was almost ready. Lucy stood awkwardly in front of the full length mirror in their bedroom, and after a moment's hesitation, she let her towel drop to the carpeted floor. Blue eyes scanned her form from head to toe, admiring her features for a few moments. She'd never been vain, but she could see why Rigo was so attracted to her. She bit her lip as she worked up the courage to open that drawer in her dresser.

Buried deep underneath the pile of multi-colored underwear was the product of a tentative and long-avoided trip to the Victoria's Secret store in the mall. It had been an expensive purchase; more than she would ever have imagined she'd spend on one matching bra and panty set, but she'd had a feeling that they would one day come in handy. Lucy cast a glance over her shoulder and with a savage yank; she ripped the still-attached sales tags off of the garments. She'd opted for a color she liked, an aquamarine hue that wasn't too far off from the color she'd had her Chevelle painted - the bra was trimmed with white lace, and its sex appeal caused her to fidget with her hands as she put it on. She frowned. Stupid thing. She put a bra on every day, what was this one's deal? Lucy pulled the aquamarine straps up over her shoulders and adjusted the cups on her modest chest, then turned this way and that in the mirror. So that's what two hundred dollars gets you, she thought, having just watched her breasts go from a B-cup to a full C. Dinner was almost ready. She stepped into the matching panties and pulled them up around her hips before grabbing her nicest pair of jeans, tugging them up around her waist and fastening them. A grey, V-necked T-shirt wasn't anything fancy, but it did show off the results of a bra that cost way too much money.

Everything was ready by the time she appeared shyly around the corner into the kitchen where Rigo waited patiently for her to join him. Lucy blushed underneath her fur. She could feel the sexy lingerie underneath her clothes, and knowing that Rigo very well may see it later was jarring to her, to say the least.

"Dinner is served, madam." He said regally, pulling the chair out for her. She blushed and curtsied, playing along with the upscale, fine dining act he was putting on for her. Dinner consisted of chateaubriand for two complete with béarnaise, fried asparagus, and tuna tartare as an appetizer. Minutes later, Lucy wiped her mouth and looked down at the delicious dinner he'd cooked her.

"I don't know how to start." She breathed quietly.

"Lucy..." Rigo started, locking eyes with her across the table, "I didn't just come home because Reid told me I should. He made me realize that I needed to, not just because I know you need me, but...God, just being away for two days made me realize how much I need you too. I know it didn't exactly happen the way I'm sure you planned it to, but I'm glad that it's out there on the table now. The truth, that is. I know you have things you want to tell me, things you want to get off your chest, and I'm here to listen and support you...but I'm not going to try to force you to tell me before you're ready. I love you, Lucy. Eighteen, twenty-two, forty-three, I don't care. You're my whole world."

Lucy burst into tears for the second time that night, and like a dam breaking, it all came rushing out of her at once. Thoughts were turning into words faster than her tongue could articulate them, and Rigo found himself having to listen unnaturally closely to understand what she was saying. Lucy told him everything about her past. Never having known her biological father. Losing out on her childhood to make sure her half-sisters could have their own. And the abuse. Physical. Emotional. Sexual. All at the hands of Brody Callison. It was cathartic. It was tearful. Even Rigo found himself choked up over the idea that the woman he loved more than anyone had suffered so much at the hands of such an evil person. What she had spent an entire lunch telling Reid had been condensed into the span of a few minutes at the dinner table with Rigo.

It did something to her. She wasn't sure what, but after it had joined the chateaubriand on the table, she felt different. Maybe it was the fact that it was finally off her chest. Maybe it was the look in Rigo's eyes. Whatever it was, she didn't care anymore. Rigo got up from the table. Walked around to her. She stood up. And they kissed. They kissed while the steak got cold. They kissed while the béarnaise congealed in the porcelain dish. They kissed, hardly breaking it while they ambled together off to the bedroom.

Rigo started to unbutton his shirt, but Lucy stopped him, silently insisting that she do it herself. Her petite hands worked the buttons through the holes until the light blue fabric was parted, revealing the fur on his chest and abs, lying smoothly over the toned muscle underneath. Warily, she unbuckled his belt and unfastened the dress slacks, the silk blend falling to the floor in a heap around his ankles, leaving him in nothing more than a pair of black boxer briefs, a designer label repeated around his waist. He was already beginning to swell down there, and Lucy bit her lip while she stared. He gently took her grey T-shirt by the hem and lifted it, pulling it over her head while she lifted her arms, and he grinned when he noticed the underwear she could only have bought for just such an occasion.

"Now where did this come from?" He chuckled, toying with the bra. She squirmed and blushed in his arms, smiling coyly up at him. Her nimble fingers went to work unbuttoning her jeans, and she slid them down to reveal the matching panties she wore beneath them. Rigo's manhood continued to distend the black spandex-cotton blend that covered it, and Lucy decided her bra and panties were nothing to fawn over when there were far more important things beneath them. Her confidence excited her to the point of arousal and nearly beyond, and she wasted no time in shedding the expensive garments. She sat on the bed and lay back, bringing her legs up onto the mattress. Rigo grabbed the waistband of his underwear and slid them down, kicking them off and climbing onto the bed with her, his powerful arms on either side of her, his athletic torso suspended above her petite and beautiful form.

"Tonight's the night, huh?" He whispered, leaning down to kiss her.

"It's the night." She answered, smiling into the kiss while she returned it, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer to her. She could feel the heat from his body on hers. She could feel his hot breath on her neck. They didn't need foreplay. Not that time. The time for foreplay had come and gone, and it was the moment of reckoning. Sure, she was scared. It was by all rights her first time, at least, her first time with a man she wanted to be with. It made her nervous, but it paled in comparison to the fear she felt when the memories she'd been hiding for so long were still bottled up inside her. She wet her lips and watched while Rigo coated his erection in cool, clear lubricant.

"You're still on the pill right? We're out of condoms."

"Yeah, we're good." She said, grinning. She likened the experience to riding a roller coaster for the first time. She was on the lift hill, and the anxiety was growing, but there was no turning back now. She was in the lead car, and she was going to do this. She promised herself she would. Slowly, she crested over the top, and down the hill she went as she felt Rigo push inside her. Instinctively, her mouth dropped open and she gasped, digging her claws into the wolf's back while she tried to accommodate his girth.

"Oh my God. It's really happening isn't it?" She asked, breathing in a staccato mix of panting, gasping, and giggling. Rigo smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, you okay?"

"Yeah...I'm good. I'm good." She repeated, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. She couldn't believe she had waited so long to just go for it. To be as close to Rigo as she was at that moment. He wasn't even moving yet, but she loved the way he felt. The feeling of fullness between her legs. The heat from his erection inside her. She could even feel the pulse of his heartbeat, pushing blood through the veins on that massive member he wielded.

Slowly, he began to move inside her, drawing his weighty shaft out of her and pushing it back in gently, moving with the speed of a tortoise to give her a chance to get used to the feeling of being penetrated. Her grip on his shoulders tightened with every thrust, each one just a tad bit faster than the previous one. It carried with it the awkwardness that often accompanies a couple's first time, particularly when one party was as inexperienced as Lucy was, but it made no difference. The emotional bond trumped the physical one, and that was paramount.

Lucy gasped and moaned with all the fervor of a pornographic actress, and Rigo was no less vocal himself. Vaginal lubricity kept things nice and smooth, and with every thrust inward, Lucy was pushing outward, unintentionally squeezing the wolf's erection with every revolution. She could feel every throb. Every pulse. Every bump as he bottomed out inside of her. She could feel its hardness - it had to be at least a sixty on the Rockwell scale. How could a man's penis even get so stiff? She didn't care. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever felt.

Neither of them was going to last long. Rigo knew - it was the first time he'd had sex in almost two years, the last time having been with a girl he later regretted ever having met. Lucy winced as she felt a feeling wash over her; it felt like she needed to pee. Whatever. She just went with it as Rigo's thrusting into her brought her over the precipice of climax. She let fly with a scream that nearly shook the windows of their home as she had the first orgasm she'd had in a long time, her dripping sex spraying the male wolf with her juices. He continued to pump into her like a piston, his face twisted into the countenance of a man whose crankshaft hips were about to give his girlfriend an oil change.

"Oh God, Lucy...Lucy, Lucy - ahhhhh!"

Lucy gripped him tighter, and her eyes went wide as she felt that cock inside of her harden further, twitching against the silken walls of her passage while he came. A feeling of warmth washed over her, emanating from within as he filled her womb with his seed. Rigo kissed and nipped gently at her neck as he finished, never removing himself from her until the last drop had been expended into her shaking body. She panted and huffed, the aftershocks of her climax still glowing embers in her loins, and she found herself missing the feeling of having him inside her when he finally pulled out.

"How was that?" He whispered, grinning down at her while she smiled back up at him, her eyes half-lidded and glassy.

"Amazing..." She whispered, and Rigo rolled over next to her on his back, panting while the ceiling fan spun cool air around them, their sweat chilled by the air in the room. Lucy rolled over and sidled up to her man, bringing every inch of her body that she could manage into contact with his. A strong arm circled her and pulled her in close.

"Steak's probably cold by now."

"I dunno. That was pretty quick." He chuckled embarrassedly, "Might still be warm."

Lucy snuggled up closer to him, "No...we can heat it up later. Don't get up. Don't leave; just...stay right here with me."

"Okay." Rigo let out a happy sigh and pulled her closer.

***

Paul sat in the dark in his pickup truck, parked on the shoulder of the highway and watching the bikers leave the dirt parking lot of Rotgut Rob's making their usual din on the way out. His only passenger was his rifle, encased in an old canvas bag that had to be as old as he was. At nearly seventy, his eyes were too poor, even with the help of binoculars, to pick out Dallas in the crowd of leather, Levi's, and V-twins.

There were at least forty of them. It didn't seem like much, but armed only with a bolt-action rifle, the opposition would seem innumerable. He closed his eyes. The Tet Offensive came haunting back into his memory. 1968. He was eighteen years old. Barely old enough to drink in the United States (in the sixties, anyway) and there he was, belly-down in the tall grass of Viet Nam, waiting for his target to come into view. The truck, he decided, was a far more comfortable position from which to pick off targets. After all - it was air conditioned.

The Bitten MC began their departure in large numbers. Clusters of bikes and the people riding them slid out of the dirt lot onto the access road, tearing off into the night with their engines revving loud enough to shake his windows, six lanes over. Some of them stayed on the feeder. Some of them entered the highway in grandiose fashion, their numbers still too large. They were the lucky majority. Paul turned his sights back on the bar, where a drunken few were still loitering about, smoking cigarettes and finishing conversations. Among this group was Charlie Killibru, a chap Paul remembered from his riding days. While Charlie was not likely involved in Randal's death, he was a philandering, crude, lying, manipulative, and callous man who cheated on his wife and abused anyone he believed to be under him, which were most people. To Paul, it seemed as though he'd sought refuge in an outlaw motorcycle club because he belonged nowhere else.

Paul sighed with a sense of finality. It felt like an eternity before anything happened. Charlie finally swung his leather-chapped leg over the seat of his Harley and started it up, blowing dust in his wake as he tore out of the parking lot. Springing into action, Paul grabbed the release on the rear seatbacks and lowered them, exposing the hole through which to fire. He unzipped the canvas bag and brought out the rifle, deploying the bipod and resting it on the seat back. From his position, he had a perfect vantage point of the highway entrance.

Traffic was sparse. The night was clear, not a cloud in the sky. Paul did the math in his head, though rusty as it was, he determined that the on ramp was about ninety meters away. It was going to be a tricky shot; more difficult than anything he'd ever fired at in his military career. The target would be moving away from him on the other side of the highway at seventy miles per hour, and he could just barely see over the concrete highway divider separating the inbound and outbound lanes. Sweat broke on his forehead. What if he missed? What if he was off, and the bullet struck some poor, innocent person? He wavered. Charlie Killibru was coming up the entrance ramp to the 210 and moving fast. Paul steadied himself. Half of his field of view was occupied by concrete. He led his target and fired.

The thump of the rifle's report resounded inside the truck with such ferocity that Paul thought his head might explode from the pressure. Inside the truck, the scent of cordite burned his nose, and his ears rang. On Highway 210, the bullet struck Charlie Killibru square between the shoulder blades. The hare went slack, slumped over the handlebars. With no one to control the bike, he went down, skidding across the pavement while his motorcycle raced him. Paul's heart thumped in his chest. Sweat rolled down his face, cool and stinging. He didn't know if it was the nerves or the air conditioning, but whatever it was, he had no time to waste. Re-bagging the rifle, he returned the seatbacks to their upright positions, slid the rifle case underneath them, and started the truck up. Killibru had slid so far down the highway that the bear couldn't even see him in the rear view mirror as he drove away.

Then came the reasoning. Paul didn't need to justify his actions to himself. Still though, he wondered why Charlie Killibru's card had been drawn that night. Killibru was a monster of a man. A terrible person who would do more good to the world dead than he would alive. Perhaps his family would get an insurance payout over it. Maybe the wife Paul had seen cry far too many times in his days of riding would find someone else. Maybe she had already. He didn't know. It wasn't his place. He grinned and acerbic grin. I could get used to this vigilante thing, he thought. While Paul didn't think of himself as a vigilante as much as a bereaved father, he still steeled himself for the next kill. There would be more. He knew there would be more. And he had no qualms about it.