The Law of Retaliation Page 5

  “My fault?” Caden repeated in an uncertain tone. “What the hell did I do? I've been keeping a low-profile all year, man.”

  “This year doesn't matter, you fucking idiot. I've told you a million times: one false move can affect your entire life. You've made hundreds of false moves. Now, your business is my business. I've been dragged into your mess and I'm going to have to clean it up.”

  Natalie shook her head and said, “Caden, baby, this is serious. This is no time to be giggling and smiling.”

  Caden dug his fingers into his hair as he stepped in reverse. Although his father's injuries conjured some amusement, he was baffled by the entire situation. His mother's serious tone was particularly worrisome. Judging from his parents' statements, he rationalized his father's injuries were caused due to his past actions. He didn't know who would want to cut a hole in his cheek, though.

  He thought: did I ever cut someone's mouth open? With a rap sheet longer than an overpriced college textbook, he couldn't think of a specific person who would want to hurt him. There were too many potential suspects.

  Vincent and Nathaniel entered the living room with a set of knives. Vincent cut Natalie's restraints while Nathaniel cut the rope around Owen's body.

  As the rope was cut, Owen explained, “The parents of that bastard kid broke into the house and got the jump on us. They caught us by surprise. They did a number on me. They hit your mother a few times, but at least they didn't cut her up like me. Thank God for that.”

  “Parents?” Caden repeated, curious. “Whose parents? What are you talking about, pops?”

  Owen glanced at Caden, then he huffed and shook his head in disbelief. The young man had already forgotten about the crime he committed two years ago. The tragic death of a child, the long court cases, the thousands of dollars spent on attorneys—it was all brushed under the rug, buried deep in his mind and forgotten with the rest of his crimes.

  With the rope falling to the ground, the battered father stood from his seat. He moved his head left-and-right, popping his neck and stretching out. He grimaced as he placed his tongue on the wound on his cheek. It still hurt, but the bleeding stopped. He slapped his son, causing the young man to stagger. Caden rubbed his cheek and stared at his father with wide eyes—what did you do that for?

  Owen wagged his index finger at him and said, “Don't play stupid, boy. I'm talking about the Martins. The motherfuckers who sent you to court. You remember that, don't you? You remember all of the goddamn time and money I had to spend to keep you out of trouble, right? You remember that little girl from two years ago, don't you?”

  The Martins—the young man nodded upon hearing the family name. He remembered the tragic night, he remembered the angry parents. His legs wobbled, his hands trembled, and his heart sank. Unadulterated fear flowed through his veins. His past had finally caught up with him.

  He shook his head and erratically blinked, trying to shrug off his fear. In order to win his father's respect, he had to take control of the situation. He was afraid, but he had to move forward. If he ever wanted to take his father's place in the future, he had to show courage.

  Caden said, “Okay, okay. I remember them. This... This is good, though. They came to us. They broke into our house and attacked you. We have the right to defend ourselves, right? We can get rid of this trash once and for all. Let's kill them, dad. Let's get the rifles, the handguns... everything. Let's get everything and let's kill them.”

  Owen gazed into his son's eyes, trying to find the sincerity behind his words. He huffed and shook his head. He approached his wife and helped her stand as soon as her restraints fell to the floor. He gently rubbed her stomach and patted her shoulder.

  Natalie groaned as she stood from her seat. Alexa's slaps didn't hurt too much, but the hammer to the head took a toll on her. She felt dizzy, her legs limp like noodles.

  In a soft tone, Owen said, “Everything's going to be okay, sweetie. You just have to walk it off. If you feel like you got a concussion, let us know. We'll get you to the hospital. How's the baby? Huh? You okay?”

  Natalie placed one hand on the small of her back and rubbed her moist brow with the other. She said, “I think I'm okay. My head hurts, but... Yeah, I think I'll be fine. That bitch got me good, I'll give her that...” She caressed her husband's beard and cheek. She frowned and said, “It just made me so angry seeing them do that to you, too. I wanted to hurt them so badly.”

  “I know, baby, I know. We'll handle it.”

  Interrupting the tender moment between his parents, Caden asked, “Well, are we going to do this or what? They could be escaping right now. We don't have all fucking day.”

  “Watch your mouth, boy,” Owen snapped.

  Caden lowered his head and took a step in reverse, withdrawing from the confrontation. He wasn't going to bump heads with his father.

  As he walked around the room, Owen said, “They're not going anywhere. No, I could see it in their eyes. They were hungry. They were starving for violence—and we're going to feed 'em.” He glanced up at the ceiling, listening to the creaky floorboards and faint voices upstairs. He said, “Lex Talionis. That is the 'Law of Retaliation.' It's an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth... an ear for an ear. Our punishment should resemble the crimes they committed.”

  Nathaniel asked, “So, what are we going to do?”

  “They tortured us, so we're going to torture them. We're going to gouge out their eyes, pull out their teeth, and rip their ears off their heads. Then, I'm going to crush that bastard's testicles, just like he wanted to do to me.”

  Caden smirked, amused by the idea. Nathaniel nodded in agreement, ready to follow the big boss to the depths of hell. Natalie stared down at her belly, lost in her own thoughts.

  Vincent coughed to clear his throat, then he stuttered, “If–If you do that, wouldn't you end up killing them?” Owen shrugged—so? Vincent clarified, “Isn't... Isn't that going too far? 'An eye for an eye.' You can hurt them, but you can't kill them, right? Right?”

  Owen approached the young man and placed his hands on his shoulders. He said, “I'm an honorable man, so I follow our code—our laws. Right now, we're following the law. They tortured us, so we can torture them. Just 'cause the outcome may be different, that doesn't mean we're not following the rules. Those bastards knocked us out with hammers and wrenches, right? Now, let's say I hit that woman's head with a hammer. That's it—a hit with a hammer. Now, let's say she also gets a concussion, she falls asleep, and she dies. I did the same thing she did to us, didn't I? That's an eye for an eye, right? Just because she died and I didn't, that doesn't mean I'm not following the Law of Retaliation. It just means she was weak... and she deserved to die.”

  Vincent slowly nodded as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Owen's rationale made sense, but he didn't agree with it. He was more concerned with the destination than the trip. He couldn't challenge the man, though.

  Noticing the fear in Vincent's eyes, Owen asked, “Do you have any doubts, son?” Vincent shook his head. Owen smiled and said, “Good. I know you're a little on the squeamish side, so I'll give you a break this time around. We'll handle the dirty work. I need you to go out there and get the rest of the crew. You understand me? Get 'em over here—tonight. Red Laces only. No Fresh Cuts, okay? Tell 'em we're having a boot party.”

  Boot party—the term made Vincent's spine waver. He stared down at his Doc Martens. He could see the blood splattered on his boots already.

  He stuttered, “O–Okay.”

  “Good. Now, get out of here.”

  Vincent clapped at Caden, gesturing his request—pass the keys. Around his father, Caden was happy to oblige. He winked and tossed the keys at his peer.

  As Vincent departed from the lake house, Owen beckoned to the other men and said, “While he's out getting a few more heads, we'll see if we can fish those bastards out. We're not trying to kill them, but... If they die, they die. Let's go up.”

  Natalie tapped Owen's shoulder and asked
, “What should I do, sweetie?”

  “What should you do? Shit, I don't know... Bake some cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. We're going to be hungry when we're done with them.”

  “Alright, sure thing. Have fun.”

  Natalie strolled into the kitchen and the men marched up the stairs.

  Chapter Seven

  Friendly Introductions

  Owen reached the top of the stairs, Caden and Nathaniel followed closely behind him. They examined the hallway. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the light seeping through the gap under the first door to the right—Caden's bedroom. It was safe to assume the couple were hiding in the room.

  Caden tapped his father's shoulder and whispered, “Let me take the lead on this one. I can handle it, dad. You have my word.”

  Owen stared at Caden. His son was a disappointment—an impulsive, deviant, and idiotic teenager. He loved him, though. He couldn't abandon the boy. He sighed and nodded, then he stepped aside—go ahead.

  Caden smiled, giddy like a boy who just hit his first home-run in front of his father. He took a deep breath, then he approached his bedroom. He turned the doorknob, but to no avail. Of course it's locked, he thought, fucking cowards. He leaned on the wall and knocked on the door—thud, thud, thud.

  In a soft tone, clearly mocking the couple, Caden said, “Hey, guys. You remember me, don't you? You remember the sound of my voice, right? Yeah, of course you do. How could you forget, right? We've been through so much together. It's your old pal, Caden. You in there?”

  Inside of the bedroom, Ryan and Alexa stood a meter away from the door. The couple froze, paralyzed by their fear and anger. They couldn't utter a single word. They hadn't heard the voice of the killer since the night of the tragic incident. The young man remained quiet during the entire court case, pleading the Fifth and refusing to self-incriminate.

  Caden gently tapped the door and said, “It's just like old times. You remember that crazy night, right? You were so shy. I mean, first, you were too shy to stop and help. Then, you were too shy to even roll down your window for me. I'll be honest with you: I thought it was adorable. Don't you miss the good ol' days? Hmm? Don't you want to have a... a little reunion? I heard you were looking for me. Well, here I am.”

  As his son tormented the intruders, Owen leaned back and stared down the hall. He stared at the second door to the right. The door led to a neighboring bedroom. He grabbed Nathaniel's shoulder and pulled him closer to him.

  Owen whispered, “Sneak into that room. You can get them through the Jack & Jill bathroom. Go.”

  Nathaniel nodded in agreement. With his shoulders raised, he tiptoed down the hall—walking with slow, calculated lunges.

  In the bedroom, Ryan stared at the floor and gritted his teeth as he listened to Caden's little speech. He clenched his fists and trembled, struggling to control his rage. He wanted to burst through the door and rip the young man's head off of his neck.

  Ryan furrowed his brow and tilted his head, curious. Caden's obnoxious voice became muffled. He heard a creaky floorboard in the hallway. The creaky floorboard was eventually followed by another. Footsteps, he thought. He glanced over at Alexa. To his utter surprise, his wife was already staring at him—she heard the noise, too.

  Ignoring Caden's provocative words, the couple stepped in reverse until they reached the second door in the room. The door led into the Jack & Jill bathroom—a shared bathroom with two doors, accessible from two rooms. Both of the doors were open, so the couple could see into the neighboring bedroom. The same idea echoed through their minds: they're trying to sneak into the room.

  Ryan pushed Alexa and shouted, “Go! Close it!”

  Upon hearing the shouting, Owen yelled, “Get in there, Nate!”

  Alexa stumbled through the bathroom, slipping and sliding on the rug. She stopped in the bathroom's other doorway. At the same time, Nathaniel reached the bedroom. The pair locked eyes for a second—a second that felt like an eternity.

  Alexa's eyes were filled with fear and hatred, Nathaniel's eyes glowed with deviance. As Nathaniel sprinted into the bedroom, Alexa slammed the door and turned the lock—barely locking the neo-Nazi out of the room. She staggered in reverse as Nathaniel banged on the door. The door rattled in the frame and the golden door knob wiggled, but it didn't burst open.

  Nathaniel chuckled, then he said, “You're a fast spic, aren't you? You think you're safe, don't you? Well, you're not. I've got you where I want you. You remember me, right?” He banged on the door and barked, “Right?! Wait until I get in there, you dirty cunt! I'm not just going to suck on your nipples this time, you hear me? I'm going to bite your fucking nipples off!”

  Teary-eyed, Alexa sniffled as she listened to the man's horrific threats. The memories of the sexual assault made her whimper. She hopped as Ryan wrapped his arm around her. She found some comfort in his embrace. At heart, she was absolutely terrified of the neo-Nazis. Her husband gave her the courage to move forward—and she did the same for him. The couple returned to Caden's bedroom.

  Ryan leaned on the wall beside the door and said, “Caden... I remember you, Caden. You're the knock-off Marshall Mathers... Yeah, I remember every little detail of that night. I see you're still a sneaky little bastard, trying to creep up on us just like last time.”

  Caden laughed, then he said, “I'm sorry about that, buddy. We just really wanted to talk to you.”

  “We're talking now.”

  “You're right. You're absolutely right, Ryan. But... we're old friends, aren't we? We have history, man. Let's talk without this door between us. It's friendlier that way, isn't it?”

  Ryan glanced over at his wife, searching for some advice. Alexa shook her head, refusing to open the door for the pack of racists. Without saying a word, the couple agreed: keep the doors closed.

  Ryan responded, “We're not friends. We're not strangers, but we're not friends, either. We're enemies, Caden. You should know that by now.”

  “Oh, come on. Don't be like that. I've had your blood on my hands, haven't I? You can't get any friendlier than that, can you? Let's think about this, friend. I've had your blood on my hands, Nate has had your wife's blood on his hands, and we all have your daughter's blood on our hands... I think that makes us best friends, buddy.”

  Ryan banged on the door, infuriated. As the door rattled, Caden staggered away from the wall and laughed—delighted. Owen squeezed between his son and the door.

  The man said, “Mr. Martin, you're talking to Caden's father, Owen Clark. We've already had the 'pleasure' of meeting tonight. I want to know: how do I get you out of there? Hmm? How do we settle this like adults?”

  “It's easy,” Ryan said as he leaned back on the wall and stared up at the ceiling. “Get out of our way. Like I told you, this had nothing to do with you. You just got in the way. We only want your son. If you give us Caden, we'll let the rest of you go. It's that easy. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

  His hands on his hips, Owen chuckled and shook his head. He glanced over at his son, as if he were actually considering the deal.

  He said, “We've been through this already: I'm not handing you my son on a silver platter. It ain't happening. We're family. I'm not going to sacrifice my family for a man like yourself, Mr. Martin.”

  Ryan chuckled in disbelief. The man spoke about family while disregarding his own son's murder of their daughter. A nervous smile on his face, he glanced over at his wife. Alexa wasn't smiling, though. The hopelessness was blatantly plastered on her face—a set of downcast eyes and a frown. The couple were pushed to a corner.

  Sensing the doubt in her husband, Alexa stepped forward and shouted, “I'm going to call the police!”

  Owen and Caden glanced at each other with deadpan expressions. They burst into a guffaw, holding their stomachs and slapping their knees. Even Nathaniel laughed from the other bedroom. The threat was foolish. Rational criminals wouldn't call the cops during a crime.

  Owen asked, “What are you going to t
ell them? Huh? You're going to tell them that you... that you broke into my house and tortured us? You're going to tell 'em that you cut off my fucking ear and stabbed my cheek?” The couple didn't respond. Veins bulging from his neck and brow, Owen shouted, “Is that what you're going to say?!”

  Eyes brimming with tears, Alexa said, “It... It doesn't matter what we say. They'll come, they'll let us out, and they'll see all of this Nazi shit in here.”

  “No, no, no. They'll come, they'll arrest you, and they won't give a crap about anything in that room. You see, it may not be like this in Mexico or whatever taco-head land you're from, but, in the great United States of America, it's not illegal to be a Nazi. We have rights here.”

  “I'm... I'm an American citizen. I was born and raised in this country, you racist bastard!”

  “I'm sure you were, you dirty anchor-baby...”

  Ryan and Alexa shared a sigh of disappointment. They agreed with Owen's assessment of the situation. If they called the police, they would be arrested and the Clarks would be free to spread their racist bile. They were committed to killing Caden anyway. They couldn't kill the young man from a jail cell.

  Ryan said, “I'm sorry about your ear and your cheek, but we can't leave without your son. We came here to kill him. You would have to kill us to stop us.”

  Caden approached the door and said, “Alright, alright. If you want me so badly, take me. Let's do this, one-on-one. Open the door. Come on, let's get this over with.”

  “If I open this door, you and all of your Nazi friends will rush in here,” Ryan responded. He sneered in disgust and said, “You don't want to fight fair, you bastard. You're a fucking child—a thug, a punk.”

  “You sound very angry, Ryan. You're also very stupid. You realize we can just take this door down, right? We can ram our way into the room. We can even take the door off its hinges. It would be easy—so easy. Don't make me laugh.”

  “Go ahead and try it. Just know: if you come through the door first, I'm going to kill you.”