Hidden Secrets (Satan's Prophets MC)

by Jones, Jacqui Leigh

  “Hey, little lady,” he smiled at her, “you look like you could use a drink. How about having one with me?” He walked over closer and gave Jaz an introduction. “My name’s Thomas and you are Lacey. I saw your name on the billing.”

  Jaz was surprised he knew her stage name. Looking him over up close, Jaz thought he wasn’t bad looking, with his thick brown hair neatly slicked back and his face clean shaven. She must have a thing for brown hair, she figured when a picture of JD popped into her mind. Closing her eyes, she gave her head a little shake to erase his image from her brain. At least this guy was dressed in a tailored shirt and dress pants, not a tee shirt and grimy jeans. Now here’s a true gentleman, Jaz thought. If she was ever going to get over JD, she guessed she had to start somewhere and this guy was as good as any. She allowed him to lead her to a table and she sat down.

  Thomas was really hoping to draw this one into his business venture. The men seemed to really like her when she was on stage and Thomas knew, it was that innocent look she had about her that appealed to them. Funny thing, he thought to himself, how we men like innocent when we’re thinking of doing the down and dirty with them.

  After talking to him for a few minutes, Jaz was starting to have doubts and wondered what the hell she was doing. Getting a good look at this guy’s face, there was something about it that screamed at her to be wary. She didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to be raping her. When he started talking about her going into a little business venture with him, Jaz finally got his meaning. She couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. She felt like clubbing him in the head, but instead she got up and just about ran over to the bar where Mick was.

  Mick really enjoyed working behind the bar at The Den. He liked talking with the customers and meeting new people. Plus, this bar was more upscale than a lot of bars he’d been in. The booze was top shelf and although Danny hinted about watering it down, Mick wouldn’t. He believed in giving the customer what they paid for. Besides, he’d seen many a bar fight start over watered down drinks. He didn’t want that bullshit here.

  When Mick noticed Jaz weaving her way through the crowd rather quickly, he wondered what the fuck was wrong now. By the time she reached the bar, he noticed her red face and pinched mouth. Grabbing her face in his hand, he studied it and asked, “Jaz, what’s wrong? Did someone upset you?”

  Jaz didn’t want to cause any problems for Mick on his first night. She knew he needed this job so instead of complaining about that jerk, she told Mick she was just tired.

  “Can you take me home now? I just want to get out of here,” Jaz pleaded.

  Not really believing her, Mick looked around the bar, but didn’t see anything that looked suspicious. He had an idea of what had happened and if he was right, he’d have to talk to Danny about girls and the back rooms.

  “Sure. Let me get Danny out here to cover for me and we’re outta here.” Ten minutes later, Mick hustled Jaz out of the bar.

  Jaz couldn’t sleep, as tired as she was. She laid there wide awake, her mind spinning with all different thoughts about where her life had taken her so far. She realized now how foolish she’d been in college, thinking partying was so cool. If she hadn’t been so stupid back then, maybe she would have a nice job today and have met a decent guy. Not some wild biker, who used her and then tossed her aside like rubbish. And stripping in a bar? As much as she denied it to herself, deep down she knew it wasn’t what she wanted to be doing. Sure, she would earn enough money to buy the motel eventually, but having that jerk of a man thinking so little of her—that she would sell her body? Now that really stung. Is that what she had become? A cheap thrill for men? And Mick—not judging her for how low she had sunk. She knew he was just hanging around to pick up the pieces of her totally messed up life when she crashed.

  Tears flowing freely down her cheeks, Jaz swore she was done with men and was seriously thinking of going back to finish college. But she was committed to the motel now. What had she gotten herself into? She couldn’t just leave Sam and Sara hanging and Lori couldn’t afford to buy the motel on her own. Oh, hell! Her head began to ache as she tried to rest. She got up and took two aspirins with a glass of water. Lying back in bed, she tossed and turned. It was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

  Lila was riding a euphoric high, thinking she had the world by the balls. Her little business with Thomas was bringing in more money than she’d ever earned. Of course, there were times that she had to do some sexual acts that even she wasn’t comfortable with, but there was always a little something extra in it for her so she went along with it. Usually, she worked at his apartment in town which she liked much better. The men she met there were just driving through and just stopped in for a little romp. A more decent type: business men, tourists, they treated her respectfully.

  The customers she had in a back room at The Den were mostly crass and usually a lot rougher, after being excited by the dancers on stage. Thomas was always extra careful to treat her like a fine lady and she loved that about him. She knew she was in love with him, but he didn’t seem to return her feelings. She hoped in time, he would. After all, how could he not? She was doing all that was expected of her. Plus, he was taking in a large amount of the money she made.

  Thomas seemed to have an addiction to watching her perform with a client. At first, she was somewhat uncomfortable with it but some clients didn’t mind and actually enjoyed being watched. After time, Lila became more comfortable with it, too. It was when Thomas tried to talk her into doing threesomes that she drew the line. There were some things she refused to do—threesomes and anal sex included. His face would twist with a cruel smile at her refusals and sometimes it worried her a little.

  One night after a client had left, Lila was enjoying a drink with Thomas in his apartment. She had once again refused to perform a sex act that Thomas wanted her to so he could watch. Lila noticed he had a dangerous glint in his eyes and seemed to be in a strange, quiet mood. Puzzled, she looked directly at him and asked, “Thomas, you’re not upset with me—are you?”

  “Of course not, Lila my dear. Quite the opposite,” he replied in a cheerful voice and fake smile. “In fact, I have a nice surprise waiting for you.”

  Warning bells started going off in her head at his chilled tone of voice. She always suspected he had a violent side, but he kept it well hidden.

  “Lila, I warned you upfront that I call the shots here. You are to do as I order. You disappointed me. Now you will have to pay for your little defiance of me tonight and in the past.”

  “I don’t think so.” Shaking her head from side to side, she tried to hide the tremor in her voice. Her heart was pounding with fright as she stood up and started backing up slowly, towards the door, still shaking her head no.

  “Oh yes. I think this will be the best performance I have seen you in yet,” he said with a cruel, savage tone to his voice, as he slowly stalked after her.

  “How did I not notice what a sick, perverse man you are?” With a trembling hand, she made a grab for the door knob.

  Thomas jeered at her and moved in quickly. He put his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it. “I think not, my dear.” Thomas grabbed her by her throat and pulled her back, away from the door. When Lila tried to knee him in his balls, he was expecting it and turned to the side. Her knee hit his thigh instead. Yelling out in a rage, she swung her fist and connected with his cheek. Lila was fighting for her life, but her slim body was no match against his stronger one.

  When his fist struck her nose she prayed she would pass out, but no such luck. Finally—after what seemed like an eternity to her—he was done. He left her lying on the floor, a battered mess when he walked out the door.

  Lila didn’t know if she would be able to stand up after the beating she endured, but she managed to crawl to the sofa for support. She was very wobbly as she managed to stand. Every bone in her body hurt when she moved, but she knew she had to get out of there before he returned and possibly killed her. Hal
f walking, half crawling, she slowly and painfully made it to her car and somehow managed to drive to the one place where she hoped she would get help.

  Striker, Roach and JD had their heads together, talking about Carlo and his gang of cut-throats. They knew he and his crew would eventually make their way into Fulton. In fact, Striker was surprised Carlo wasn’t there already. Striker had already sent word to the Satan’s Prophets Support club in Ohio to be on-the-ready, if he needed some back-up. He was thinking of giving a shout-out to their New Jersey sister club, also. Striker, Roach and JD were in total agreement: if Carlo came to Fulton, there was only one way he and his boys were going back out. Dead.

  Suddenly, the clubhouse got as quiet as a mouse. The music stopped and bottles of beer could be heard hitting the bar as they were put down.

  When the three of them turned around, they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Lila’s face looked like someone had used it for a punching bag. Both her eyes were turning black and blue and her cheek had a nasty gash on it. She was crying with big, fat tears running down her cheeks. Sherry came out of her shocked state and went running over, to help her sit down.

  Striker’s eyes were opened wide and his hands were clenched into fists as he walked over to her and asked in a low, fierce growl. “Who did this to you, Lila?”

  She started crying harder now and tried to talk, but could only mumble through her bloody, split lip.

  All that kept running through Striker’s mind was if this happened to his old lady, fucker would be dead already. No questions asked.

  JD’s insides were shaking with rage and he could only manage to spit out one word. “Who?”

  Lila started to mumble out her story as best she could. JD’s teeth clenched together harder the more she talked. Lila told them about meeting Thomas at The Den—his pimping out the dancers in the back rooms. How Joe gets a cut for letting him use the rooms and the reason she got beat up, for refusing to do certain sexual acts.

  After giving out the directions to Thomas’ apartment, Lila heard a soft, soothing voice whisper, “You’ll be just fine, honey.” Sherry started rubbing her back lightly. “You did right to come here. Come on—let’s get you over to my place.” Sherry’s hands were shaking as she helped Lila stand. “One of my friend’s is a nurse. We’ll take good care of you.”

  “Prospects!” Striker bellowed. Digger and Jock came walking over. “Digger, you go with Sherry and Lila. Stay there until I send word you can leave.” Nodding at Striker, Digger picked up Lila gently and carried her out to Sherry’s car.

  “Jock, you get over to the shop. Spokes is there. Tell him to pick us up here with the van.” Nodding, Jock took off.

  JD was pacing, feeling guilty. If they hadn’t put Lila on that stage this wouldn’t have happened. He looked straight at Striker with a murderous gleam in his eyes.

  “You coming?”

  “You know it, brother.”

  JD and Striker were dropped off at the apartment just as Thomas was opening the door to go in. Walking up behind him, JD pushed him into the apartment. Thomas turned with a surprised look on his face just as JD’s fist connected with his nose and knocked him to the floor.

  Shaking his head to clear his vision, Thomas looked up to see two savage looking bikers looming over him with a deadly glare in their eyes.

  “Who are you?” Thomas yelled, still looking up.

  “We’re your worst nightmare,” JD answered with a few kicks to his ribs. Thomas groaned in pain, clutching his side. “What do you want with me? I don’t even know you.”

  Grabbing him by his hair, Striker hauled him to his feet. “You don’t know us, but I’m sure you remember Lila?” Striker hit him again, sending him spiraling back down to the floor. Thomas’ face got as white as a sheet as he rose to his hands and knees.

  “Lila is just a whore. She worked for me and she knew what was expected of her. I just wanted to teach her a little lesson, that’s all,” he said, trying to make them see reason.

  “Yeah, well—we’re here to teach you a little lesson,” JD hissed, kicking him in his belly this time.

  “How does it feel, you sniveling coward? You afraid? You should be, you mother-fucker.”

  “Please,” Thomas was begging now, “I’ll never hurt anyone again.” By this time, he was a sniveling ball of tears and piss on the floor.

  “Up on your knees, you fucking little scumbag,” Striker ordered. When Thomas saw Striker had his gun drawn, he started crying harder and begging louder for his life.

  Striker showed no mercy when he put the gun to Thomas’ temple.

  “How does it feel to know you’re about to die? You remember this feeling.” Striker made a loud clicking sound with his tongue and Thomas fell to the floor.

  “Now you listen and you listen up good. We see you within a hundred miles of this town, you’re a dead man. Only warning you’re gonna get, you hear me? You tell anyone what happened here, we’ll find you.”

  Thomas nodded-yes. Those were the last words he heard before Striker hit him in the head with the butt of his gun. Spokes helped JD load his unconscious body into the back of the van. They drove a good hundred miles out of town and dumped his body off in the woods, on the side of a deserted road.

  “So much for that piece of shit, let’s get the fuck outta here,” Striker ordered.

  Big Daddy reported back to the club about some new guy tending bar at The Den. This news didn’t sit well with Striker. “Who the hell hired him without coming to me first? And where did he come from?” Leveling a hard stare at JD, he scowled, “You head on over to the bar and see what the story is with this new bartender. It was your screw up that caused that ass-wipe owner to run for his life. I want to know what the fuck he’s doing here, in our neck of the woods. Take some back-up with you and get me some answers, don’t care how you do it.”

  Looking around at his brothers, he continued barking out orders. “Anyone find me a bookkeeper for the bar yet?” Striker needed to find someone to take over the books fast, someone who wouldn’t ask any questions. When Striker was in one of his pissed off moods, no one dared joke around.

  Drifter spoke up against his better judgement. “I figure one of the girls that owns the motel must know that shit. How else could they manage it on their own?”

  Striker nodded at Drifter. “Good. That’s your job. Go over there and talk her in to doing the bar’s books. Make her an offer she won’t be able to refuse. They must need the extra cash flow. Work it around her schedule if you have to, just make it happen.”

  Drifter nodded back. “Sure thing.” Or so he hoped.

  Mick caught Danny as he came out of the office. “Hey Danny, what’s up with these bikers hanging here all the time?”

  “Satan’s Prophets. They have a clubhouse a few miles outside of town. I’m not certain, but I think they own a large part of the bar or something. Just watching out for their investment, I guess. I know Joe always got nervous when they came in. Pretty good idea why, too,” he murmured that last part under his breath. That was all he would say about Joe. He didn’t need those damn bikers asking him questions.

  Mick had just walked back over to the bar when he noticed more bikers coming in. Usually their presence didn’t bother him, but tonight they seemed different. More menacing and tense. From the serious looks on their faces and the way they walked in, they acted like they owned the place. Especially the one whose patch said JD. He couldn’t put his finger on the strange feeling he got.

  JD walked right up to the bar and calmly sat down. When Roach and Drifter approached, some guys jumped up and gave them their seats which caused Roach to smile. This happened a lot and never failed to amuse them.

  Mick walked over to take their orders. JD asked in a steady, lethal voice while staring him in the eyes, trying to intimidate him. “You’re new to town, mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

  Mick bent his six foot one frame over the bar and sized this biker guy up. He thought he could take
him, but he didn’t know what the deal was with his brothers’ jumping into the fray. Mick decided to play his little game.

  “Just passing through, trying to earn some money so I can keep on moving.” He stared back, clearly showing he wasn’t intimidated. “What are you guys drinking?”

  “Just a bottle of Bud for now,” JD replied, holding Mick’s stare. Roach and Drifter ordered the same. Mick nodded finally and went to the cooler. JD continued on probing as Mick set his bottle of beer down in front of him. “Hear you’re staying at the motel in town.”

  “Yeah. I am.” Mick didn’t like this cocky son-of-a-bitch and wondered how this conversation would end up. Just then, someone sitting further down the bar hollered for a drink. Mick used it as the perfect excuse to walk away before his temper got him into trouble he didn’t need. He felt JD’s eyes burning into his back as he walked away. JD wasn’t amused by this guy’s short, clipped answers.

  Roach was as aggravated as JD and he couldn’t help snickering, “That went well, wouldn’t you say? Really got some answers out of him. You had him shaking in his boots.”

  “Shut the fuck up, jerk-off.” JD was pissed. “What the shit you want me to do? Beat his face in, right here in the bar?”

  “Well, at least we would’ve got some answers out of him,” Roach bitched back, shaking his head at Drifter, who wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Feeling much better about herself (thanks to her girlfriend cheering squad) Jaz let Lori talk her in to going out tonight. It was a special night because Susanna and Renee were coming along. It seemed like forever since they were all together. Jaz desperately needed this fun night out.