Jerry's Passion: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 6) (15 page)

The following evening,
Axe and Jerry met with Rodney in a warehouse off old Highway 85. It was a moonless night, and the shadows covered them as they rolled their SUV behind the locale. Rodney, a nervous, small guy who was always sniffing, confirmed that the Skull Crushers were dealing meth in Insurgents’ territory. For the moment, they were confining themselves to Pinewood Springs proper.

“Set up the buy. I’ll meet with them,” Jerry said.

Shaking his head, his mop of curls moving all over the place, he said, “That’ll never work. They’ll make you as a biker the minute they see you. None of you guys can do it. You all look like bikers, and not one of you could pass for a user of crystal.”

“You got a point there,” Axe said. “We’ll figure this out. Just set up the buy for Sunday night. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“Dudes, I’m risking my reputation by doing this.”

Jerry snorted. “
Reputation
?”

Rodney darted his eyes back and forth between Jerry and Axe. “Yeah. I can’t be known as a snitch. I won’t be able to help you if I’m found out.”

“You’re not gonna be found out. We don’t leave fuckin’ evidence.” Jerry lit up a joint. “Want one?” he asked when he saw Rodney’s hungry eyes. He handed him a roach.

“So, what’re you getting at?” Axe asked.

“I need more than the usual five hundred and a couple of pounds of weed.” He licked his lips continuously, shoving his hands in and out of his pockets.

“Go on.” Axe’s voice was steely.

“I been good to you guys, right? We been working together a long time now. I’ve always been straight with you.”

“How fuckin’ much?” Axe said.

Blinking rapidly, he blurted, “A thousand bucks.”

Axe looked at Jerry. “Do you wanna beat the shit outta him, or should I?”

“Let’s both do it.” They took a couple steps closer to Rodney.

“Okay. What about seven hundred?” They continued to walk to him. “Six…?” Closer. “Okay, five hundred sounds good.” They stopped in their tracks.

“Sounds fair,” Axe said, as Jerry stared at the sweating man. “Sunday night at nine o’clock in the back of the alley by Wesley’s Ironworks. Got it?”

Bobbing his head up and down, Rodney wiped the sweat from his face. “I got it. I’ll set it up. Thanks, guys.”

The two bikers left the trembling informant in the middle of the room, holding the bag of weed they’d brought him as a down payment. Driving back to the clubhouse, they discussed who they could trust to execute the buy.

“What about your sister?” Axe asked.

“No way do I want Kelsey mixed up in this. Anyway, I wouldn’t trust her to keep her mouth shut. Besides, having meth around her is like giving an alcoholic a bottle of booze. It wouldn’t work.” Jerry looked out at the inky blackness.

“Let’s see if Hawk or Banger have any ideas.”

Back at the clubhouse, Banger pulled at his beard as he, Hawk, Jerry, and Axe discussed possible buyers for the transaction.

“We can’t get a user ‘cause users can’t be trusted,” Hawk said.

“Maybe an old lady?”

Banger shook his head. “Don’t want the old ladies knowing the club’s business. Anyway, something could happen, and most of us seem to have old ladies who don’t come from biker backgrounds.”

“It could work if we use an old lady who’s tough and been around,” Axe suggested.

The four of them fell silent until Hawk said, “What about Emma?”

Emma was the manager of the club’s strip bar, Dream House, and she was Danny’s old lady. She had been a hoodrat for years before hooking up with him. She didn’t put up with any bullshit. Emma had also been a meth user about eight years before, so she could play the part well.

Banger nodded. “That may work. I’ll talk to Emma and Danny. If they’re good with it, we’ll take a vote tomorrow. Then we’ll get ready to smash some skulls.”

The following day, the vote came in unanimous. Emma and Danny had agreed to the setup the previous night when Banger had paid them a visit. Axe contacted Rodney to confirm the Sunday night buy. All the brothers had to do was wait and make sure their weapons were in order.

E
very time Ricky
saw Kylie, he’d get excited, and he went out of his way to talk and spend time with her. He thought about her too much, and if he didn’t see her or speak with her, his day would seem pointless. He liked her a whole lot and was more than dismayed that she didn’t return the sentiment.

Each time he tried to take their friendship to a different level, she’d give him one of her smiles that made his pants tight, and then remind him that they were really good friends. Problem was he didn’t feel like a friend anymore; he wanted much more from her, but she kept rebuffing him. Ricky knew she had the hots for the muscle man who’d shown up to the spring festival just by chance. He never believed that flimsy story, but from the way Kylie looked at the biker and the way he looked at her, he knew it’d be a long haul to steer her away from the tatted guy and over to him.

How could he compete? The guy lived in Pinewood Springs and could see Kylie every day. Ricky lived in Denver, a good three-hour drive away. And he was almost positive she’d slept with him the previous weekend. He’d asked his buddy, Jonas, to keep an eye on Kylie while he was in Vegas. When he came back, Jonas told him a tough-looking guy in leather, denim, chains, and tats spent the weekend in her room. It was like Jonas had shoved him into a brick wall. He was crushed and jealous that the badass had a love session with her, and he, the nice guy, only had a friendship.

Shaking his head, he realized he was doing
it
again: thinking about her. He rushed across the street to Lot C, swearing he was done with all that for the rest of the day. A dentist was waiting to fill a couple of cavities, and he was already running late. He hated parking in Lot C; it was too far when he was in a hurry. The night before, he’d come back to campus too late and the other lots had been full, so he’d had to park in No Man’s Land.

As he approached his car, his face fell and he groaned: the rear passenger’s tire was flat. He didn’t need this. Now he’d never make his appointment. With his remote in hand, he pressed open the trunk and rummaged through it, retrieving the jack then rolling out a spare tire.

Upon closer examination, Ricky realized the tire hadn’t gone flat on its own—it’d been slashed. Standing up, he looked at the other cars to see if any other tires had befallen the same fate. He spotted a few. Figuring someone had gotten his jollies by vandalizing the cars, he crouched down and began to loosen the lug nuts.

Faint music punctuated the stillness of the afternoon. A warm, dry breeze curled around him as he cursed under his breath. Concentrating on placing the jack in the right spot on his car, he wasn’t aware of thumping bass and hard, loud beats until they were almost right on him. Ricky tilted his head up and saw a purple Corvette slowly cruising the lot. Relief washed over his face and he rose to his feet and waved the car over. The sports car stopped in front of him, heat emanating from the engine.

“What’s wrong?” a guy with a baseball cap pulled low asked.

Ricky noticed the driver had on a pair of gold-framed sunglasses with mirrored lenses. They looked like something people would’ve worn in the 1970s. “Someone slashed my tire.”

“That sucks. Need some help changing it?”

Ricky glanced at the time on his watch. “Damn, I’m going to miss my dental appointment.” The dull ache in his mouth reminded him that he couldn’t concentrate for finals without having his cavities filled. “I was getting ready to change the tire, but I really have to keep my appointment. What year are you?”

“I’m a senior. Where’s your dentist at?”

“On Thirteenth and Washington.”

“I’m going right by there. I can give you a lift, if you want.”

Ricky beamed. “Cool. That’s a big help. Let me just put the spare and jack away. I’ll deal with it when I get back.”

A couple minutes later, he was settled into the passenger seat of the Corvette. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the ride.”

“No worries,” the driver said as he looped around the parking lot. “You have a ride back?”

“I’m texting a friend right now.” Ricky looked down at his phone.

Kylie:
Hey.

Ricky:
Hey. Can I impose on u? I need a ride back to campus. My tire was flat and I got a ride from a senior to my dentist. U cool with picking me up?

Kylie:
What time?

Ricky:
Bout 4:30.

Kylie:
Sure. Where?

Ricky:
1340 Washington St. On the west side. Brick building. Second floor.

Kylie:
Got it. Be brave. ;)

Ricky:
Thx. :)

He put his phone in his pocket, laughing.

“What’s so funny?” his ride asked.

“My friend cracks me up, that’s all.”

“Is your friend gonna pick you up?”

“Yep. She said she’ll be there.”

There was a long pause. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Kylie. Why?”

Ricky heard the guy suck in his breath. “Kylie. I know a Kylie. Beautiful, blonde, perfect pair of tits. Is that the same Kylie?”

Ricky jerked his head back. “What?”

“Is that the Kylie you’re talking about? She’s a sophomore and her roommate is Taylor.”

He detected a hard edge to the guy’s voice, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “How do you know Kylie?” Ricky asked.

“We go back a while. Her dad is someone I’ve known of for a long time.” He glanced in Ricky’s direction, and he noticed the guy was clenching his jaw real tight. Ricky was definitely getting a weird vibe from him. He stared back, his face reflected in the man’s mirrored lenses. “You fucking her?”

“What?” Ricky gasped. “I don’t like the way you’re talking about Kylie. She’s a nice person.”

“I didn’t ask if she was nice. I want to know if she’s nasty.” He rounded the corner at Thirteenth Street. “While you were in Vegas, she fucked her brains out with an asshole Insurgent. I’m sure you know that. I didn’t think she’d do anything that slutty, did you?”

When the driver passed right by Washington Street, Ricky looked behind him. “You just missed the street you were supposed to turn on.”

The man kept driving. “Did I? Huh.”

As the Corvette sped further away from where his dentist was, Ricky turned to the man. “What’s going on here? How do you know Kylie?” Then snippets of Kylie’s conversation about the creepy guy who’d been stalking her came to the forefront of his mind. “Are you the one who’s been creeping her out?”

A dry laugh filled the space between them. “Is that what she said? I don’t know if I like that.”

“You
are
the jerk.”

Without warning, the guy punched Ricky in the side of his face. “Have respect. You’re in my car.”

Ricky, rubbing his face, searched for the door handle. He had to get out of the car. He felt around the door, and when he couldn’t find the handle, he looked down. It was missing.

“I’d say that right about now, you’re thinking you’re fucking screwed, and you’d be right. I don’t like you hanging with Kylie. You’re so damn transparent. All you want is to shove your pathetic dick in her. I’m making sure that doesn’t happen.”

Cold sweat broke out all over Ricky as he tried to figure out what to do. He settled back, pretending to give in to the idea of going with the crazy jerk, and it seemed to have calmed Kylie’s stalker. Ricky could see him loosen the grip on the steering wheel. By now, the Corvette was well out of the small county and heading further into the countryside.

When they turned down a dirt road leading to the state park, Ricky lunged at him, punching him and trying to throw the car into neutral. The guy, taken by surprise at first, shoved him aside. Ricky was startled by his powerful arms. From underneath his seat, he saw the guy bring out a large security flashlight, and he tried to wrestle it away. Slamming on his brakes, the driver swiveled around and pounded Ricky in the head with the weapon. Black spots floated in front of his eyes and he slumped back into the seat.

“Don’t fucking try that shit again.” He clobbered Ricky again, then pushed down on the gas pedal and sped down the road.

Dizziness accompanied a mind-numbing pain in Ricky’s head, traveling down to his stomach where nausea consumed him. Everything was closing in on him, and he couldn’t breathe; it was like all the air around him had been sucked into outer space. He couldn’t think straight, his mind a foggy mess of blurred images. Ricky was pretty sure his skull had been cracked.

The car came to a sudden stop. The driver jumped out and ran around to the passenger side, opening the door and dragging Ricky from the car. He couldn’t fight back, his head was like a balloon that had been blown up too much then popped. He could barely keep it upright. The man threw him on the ground and pummeled his fists against his helpless body, adding kicks to his sides, head, and face. Ricky knew if he didn’t pretend to be a goner, the man would beat him to death. And all because he was friends with Kylie—it was incomprehensible.

“You weak asshole. I knew you’d be done in no time. Kylie deserves a man, not a fucking mama’s boy.” He delivered an incredibly forceful blow, and Ricky felt himself slipping away.

His attacker dragged him across the dirt, the sharp pinecones and stones scratching and ripping his skin. Ricky didn’t think he would survive. He didn’t even know where the hell he was. Strong arms picked him up, and for a few seconds he felt like he was soaring in the wind, the breeze cooling his aching body. Then he rolled down a small hill, feeling every bump until he slammed against a large rock which ended his short ride. The way the pain shot up his arm and rippled through his body, he knew it was broken. Then deep, maniacal laughter echoed in his ears before he heard the man’s crunching footsteps retreat, leaving Ricky’s bruised, bloodied, and broken body to wither away.