Taming The Biker - A MC Biker Romantic Suspense Story (11 page)

“No,” I whispered, imaging the horror. It made me sick to my stomach. 

“So, you see, those are the kind of people you’re dealing with. The kind that join these ‘gangs’,” she said, her face darkening.

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“You were only twelve and he didn’t want you to know. Didn’t want you to be frightened.”

I sighed.

“Adriana,” she said, grabbing my hand. “There are so many good boys out there. Don’t waste your time with this guy. You’ll regret it later. You’ll be hurt, in one way or another.”

“Mama…”

“Just, please…” She squeezed my hand. “Think about it, okay? For your father’s sake, at least?”

I let out a ragged sigh. “Yes. I will definitely think about it.”

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “You are all I have,” she said, her eyes shining with tears. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“You won’t,” I said softly.

“Remember what you father used to say? You can’t predict your own destiny, but you’re responsible for choosing the path that leads you to it.”

“I know, Mama. I know.”

After I left Adriana, I took a cruise on my bike to clear both of my heads, and then headed to Griffin’s. I met up with Tank in the parking lot; there were shadows under his eyes and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

“Hey, man,” I said, shoving my key into the front of my jeans. “You’re looking pretty rough.”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Even after I called you?”

He opened the door to the bar and we went inside. “Fuck no. I heard Krystal’s phone go off right after we hung up, and when I read the text message sent to her, I was too jacked up to sleep.”

“Message? What message?”

“Some douchebag named Gary sent her a message. It said,  ‘Thanks for everything’.”

“Oh yeah? Did you ask her about it?”

“No.”

“Why not?” I said, thinking the message could have meant anything.

“I was too pissed off. I mean, what kind of asshole sends a girl a message at four in the morning? Like he can’t get her out of his mind.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I needed time to think.”

“Could be nothing,” I thought, knowing that it could also be a lot. After getting screwed over by Brandy, I wasn’t sure what to believe myself. “She ever mention a guy named Gary?”

“No. Not at all.”

“You know you gotta ask her.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m almost tempted to just say ‘fuck it’ and find some new pussy. I don’t like this feeling jealous kind of shit. Too many girls willing to keep me satisfied, you know? Without the baggage or the worries.”

“I feel you, brother. I wish I’d have never met Brandy. She was bad news. ”

Two of the club whores walked by us as we sauntered over to the bar.

“Hey, Raptor, looking good,” said Cheeks, who I’d banged a couple of times. “You need some company later, let me know.”

“Will do,” I said, staring at her ass as she walked away. I had to admit – it was as nice as fuck, hence her nickname, but it didn’t compare to Adriana’s. Not from what I’d seen in those tight jeans of hers or felt under my fingertips. I imagined her wearing a G-string and my dick perked up again.

“Fuck,” I muttered, adjusting myself.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Tank tapped his fingers on the bar impatiently. “You know, I should just go and fuck the shit out of the new chick,” he said, eyeing the curvy blonde on stage with the big plastic tits. She was in her thirties and not much to look at above the neck, but even I had to admit, she knew how to work the poles. She’d shown me just how well, the week before. “Take my mind off of all the shit for a while.”

“Just don’t be late for the meeting, or your old man will have your balls,” I said as the bartender, Misty, set two icy-cold beers in front of us.

“No shit. Last time I was late, I thought he was going to have a fucking heart-attack, he was so pissed off. Wasn’t even my fault that I got a flat tire.”

“That’s because it was flat the night before, and he knew it,” I reminded him and then winked at Misty. “Thanks, darlin’”

Misty tossed her jet black hair over her shoulder and smiled. “Anytime, Raptor. Just so you know, the kitchen is open. You boys want me to put in an order for you?”

Tank’s lip curled up. “I’ll take an order of you, lovely lady.”

Misty laughed. “Really? And what about your pretty little blond, Krystal?”

“What about her?” he asked, reaching over the bar to grab a toothpick. “You thinking about a threesome?”

She giggled. “You are so bad.”

“Baby, you have no idea.”

Still smiling, she turned to me. “So, you hungry or what, Raptor?”

“I’ve already eaten,” I said, taking a swig of beer. 

“To be honest, I haven’t eaten yet,” said Tank, wiggling his eyebrows. “And what I’m craving isn’t on the menu.”

She leaned forward on the bar, her tits bulging out of her halter top. “And what is it you’re craving?” she asked seductively.

“Whatever you’re serving,” he said, staring at her chest.

Misty lowered her voice. “What if I’m willing to serve you both? At once.”

Tank chuckled and looked at me. “You game? I’ll take the front and you can have the back.”

“No thanks. She’s all yours.”

“You sure?” pouted Misty, grabbing my hand. She put it on her left tit. “I’ll let you fuck me in the ass.”

Laughing, I removed it. “Tank, you’ve got your hands full.”

He took a swig of his beer. “Does that offer stand for me, too?” 

She winked at him. “Honey, I’ve had you inside of me and I know what you’re made of. I don’t need any trips to the E.R.”

Slammer walked out of the back room and scowled. “Put your dick back into your pants, Tank, and meet me in my office. We need to talk. You too, Raptor.”

Tank straightened up. “Can’t it wait?”

“Nope. Misty, can you put an order in for a burger and onion rings?”

“Sure thing, Slammer,” she said, hurrying toward the kitchen.

He stopped next to us. “You two should stay away from Misty,” said Slammer in a low voice. “Girl’s crazy. She even fucked that asshole, Breaker, last night.”

Tank’s eyes narrowed. “No shit? What the fuck?”

“She told me she only did it to see if she could get some information. Like she’s some kind of secret agent on a mission.” He pointed to his head. “I admire her loyalty to the club, but the girl’s not all fucking there.”

“He could have messed her up pretty badly,” I answered.

“She probably wouldn’t care. In fact, she likes it rough,” said Tank, smiling grimly. “Asked me to choke her once.”

Slammer grunted. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Did you?” I asked, as Tank leaned against the bar again and watched the stage.

He shook his head. “Honestly, I tried and then stopped when she kept begging me to do it harder. I just felt too weird about it. I like rough sex as much as the next guy, but the choking thing, that’s fucked up.”

“She’s one loony bitch. You want your dick waxed, stick with Bunny, Shy, or Cheeks. They won’t kill you in your sleep,” said Slammer as Misty walked back out of the kitchen.

“The order is in. You want me to bring it back to your office when it’s done?”

Slammer looked around the bar. It was dead. “That or send Blue back with it. I know he’s here somewhere.”

“He took a magazine into the bathroom,” said Misty, nodding toward the restrooms. “He’s been in there for a while.”

Slammer scowled. “Fuck. Okay, you bring me the food,” he said, walking back toward his office.

“You want to meet up later?” Misty asked Tank, as we were preparing to follow him.

“No. Gonna head out to the club after this. We’ve got church at three.”

“I know. Text me later tonight if you change your mind.” She looked at me and winked. “Either of you. I’m game for whatever you want.”

Disturbed by the fact that she’d screwed Breaker, I grabbed my beer and followed Tank into Slammer’s office.

“Close the door,” said Slammer, sitting down behind his desk.

Tank did. “What’s up?” 

I sat down across from Slammer and noticed he had a file on his desk.

Slammer lit a cigarette and waited until Tank was in the other chair. He leaned back. “Mud still isn’t backing down.”

“I didn’t think he would. Breaker’s his nephew,” said Tank.

“I know, but what’s right is right. Letting Breaker get away with raping my future stepdaughter, is a punch in the face. I know he did it. Mud knows he did it. I need vindication.”

“So, you’re absolutely sure it wasn’t one of the other Devil’s Rangers?” asked Tank.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” said Slammer, who was looking every bit of his fifty-seven years. He rubbed the gray stubble on his chin and sighed. “Jessica saw the patches on his cut. It was theirs.”

“She remember anything else?” I asked.

“To be honest, she won’t even talk to me. Just to Frannie. But, the description she gave fits. And we all know what a fucking whack-job Breaker is.”

“This was personal,” said Tank, staring at his beer bottle. “I know it was. He must have known who she was.”

“I agree,” said Slammer. “And I’m not letting that sonofabitch get away it.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I’ve ordered a hit on him,” he said, opening up the folder. Inside was a picture of Breaker and a sheet of paper with his address and other personal information scribbled across it. “I need you to deliver this to our guy.”

“Why don’t we just do it ourselves and get it over with?” asked Tank.

“That’s what they’re expecting. We do this out in the open, there will be an all-out war. It has to look like something else.”

“So what?” he said, his eyes hardening. “We need to send them a fucking message. All of them.”

“I agree, son. You know I do. But,” he blew out a cloud of smoke. “I’m getting married soon, and I promised Frannie that I wouldn’t land my ass in jail. I don’t want either of you going, either. Not for that bozo.”

“So, who’s going to do it? The Judge?” I asked.

He nodded. “I don’t want anyone else to know about it, though. Not even the rest of the crew.”

“Why not let them in on it?” asked Tank. “They’re going to figure out you had something to do with it anyway.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Why?” I asked. Slammer never made any decisions like this without letting the others know about it first. Of course, he didn’t order many hits on people, either. This was only the second one I’d heard of.

“I think one of them is an informant.”

“A cop?” I asked.

He grunted. “No, not that. A stoolpigeon. For Mud.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” asked Tank.

“Information has been leaked. Information that neither of you even know about.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” asked Tank, looking pissed.

“Mud asked me how to get in touch with Jordan Steele. He shouldn’t even know that we’re connected. That I’ve ever had any business with him.”

“Who is this Jordan Steele?” I asked. I’d never heard of him.

Slammer looked me straight in the eye. “Your brother. The Judge.”

My mother went back to the shop to check on business, and I took a shower. When I was finished and blow-drying my hair, Tiffany called me.

“Holy crap, I just heard what happened,” she said. “That fucking asshole.”

I walked into my bedroom and started searching for something to wear. “I know,” I replied, pulling out a black cashmere sweater from the dresser. I threw it on the bed next to my new white denim skirt, and decided they’d look good together.

“Did you call the police?”

“No,” I replied, rifling through my underwear drawer. I held up a white silk thong, one that I’d purchased one a whim, and decided to pair it with a black and white pushup bra.

It’s not for Trevor
, I told myself.

In fact, I’d decided not to meet with him later. No matter how sexy and sweet he’d been, I didn’t need to get involved with someone who had admitted that he was some kind of an outlaw. Especially after what my mother had told me. Even if it was just for sex. Amazing sex.

“Why not?” she screeched. “That guy should be locked up!”

“It’s going to be taken care of,” I said, remembering Trevor’s words.

“What does that mean?”

I sighed. “I think he’s going to be roughed up.”

She was silent for a few seconds and then laughed. “You can’t be serious? By who? Oh, wait… by Tank and his biker friends?”

“Something like that.”

“I doubt that’s going to help. It might scare him, for a while, but only really sick fuckers do that kind of stuff. He’ll start up again eventually. Seriously, Adriana, Jason needs to be locked up before he rapes some other poor, unsuspecting girl.”

“Easier said than done. I don’t have any real proof that
he
did anything,” I answered.

“You were drugged. That’s evidence enough.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t see him do it, and I’m sure I don’t have any more of it in my system. I don’t know if you heard, but I threw up all over him before he could even get my sweater off.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, I know it’s not funny but… I’m just picturing his face when you puked all over him. That must have been priceless.”

I smiled. It was scary at the time, but thinking back, he deserved that and so much more. “He was pretty pissed. Great timing on my part, though.”

“Obviously it couldn’t have been any more perfect,” she agreed.

“I just wish it would have happened before I got in the car with him. He dropped me off in the middle of nowhere and I had to call Tank’s friend for a ride.”

“Tank’s friend?”

“Well, I tried calling you,” I replied, not ready to tell her too much about Trevor yet. After the conversation with my mother, I wasn’t too sure about him myself anymore.

“I know, I’m sorry. I actually ended up going over to Jeff’s. I told Krystal, but she forgot.”

Jeff was a guy she sometimes hooked up with after clubbing. They used to date in high school.

“It’s okay.”

“You know, I wonder if the other guys were in on it,” said Tiffany, sounding angry again. “Gary and Brian. And… what was that other guy’s name? Lucas?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I don’t know if they knew about it.”

“Fucking assholes.”

“Have you ever seen any of them before?” I asked, knowing she hung out at the clubs frequently.

“Not that I remember. I mean, it’s possible, I guess. I may have just never noticed those guys.

My phone vibrated. “I gotta go,” I told her. “It looks like my mom’s trying to get ahold of me.”

“Okay. Call me later.”

“I will.”

I hung up and called my mother back.

“Can you come in a little earlier?” she asked. “Gerald’s got a migraine and we’re swamped. I need you to take customers.”

“I’ll be there within the hour,” I told her.

“Thanks, Adriana.”

“No, problem.”

We hung up and I exchanged the sweater and white skirt for a short-sleeved black dress, knowing that my parents had always preferred their salespeople to dress more formally. 

As I was putting my hair up, I thought about my father and how much I missed him. He’d been our rock and had spoiled me rotten growing up. The thought of someone shooting him and then laughing about it brought tears to my eyes.

How could anyone give such little regard to a man’s life
?

Especially someone who was so much more than what those robbers had been. My father had been a kind man. A decent man. He’d been involved with the community and had given to charities. He’d even volunteered his time at the local shelter during the holidays to remind himself that anyone could fall into hard times.

“It could happen to any of us,” he once said to my mother when she’d first complained about him leaving us on Christmas Eve to volunteer. “One day you have everything, the next, you lose your job and struggle to put food on the table for your children. Look at the presents under our tree, Vanda. Imagine that there’s nothing there.
Nothing
. Or nothing in the refrigerator. No ham. No turkey. Not even a piece of bologna. Then, imagine what it’s like to have to look into your child’s face and tell them that there is no Santa Claus because you can’t afford to buy them a gift, let alone a full meal.” Then she said he’d grabbed the credit card and went to buy as many toys as he could carry to the shelter after purchasing a Santa Claus suit. It became a tradition, and the following year Vanda began to help him while I stayed behind with my grandparents, not having a clue as to what they were doing. Then, when I was old enough to understand, I helped wrap presents and even went with to deliver them. It wasn’t until we moved to Iowa, after they’d been robbed, that things changed and the volunteering stopped. Dad was diagnosed with lymphoma and his health began to deteriorate rapidly. Despite chemotherapy and trying other kinds of homeopathic treatments, he had died within eighteen months.

Remembering our last moments together, I went into the safe under my bed and took out the necklace my mother had given to me when I’d graduated high school. The one that my father had designed for the occasion, but hadn’t lived to see it. It was chunky, with white-gold chains, and a round pendant that contained a large dark blue sapphire. My birthstone. The gem itself had to be close to ten karats, and worth more than my new car. 

I put the necklace on and blinked away the tears in my eyes. I decided to wear it to work. Not only in honor of my father, but as a reminder to why I needed to stay away from Trevor, no matter how hard it was to resist that sexy, blond biker.