“You think that’s good enough for me? You think I’m gonna release you just because you say you’re gonna kill her? I ain’t gettin’ fooled by that bullshit o’ yours again.” Benni lowered his weapon and placed it into his pocket. The rest of his men followed him. He got up close to Vinny’s face and commanded in a calm, low voice, “Not only are you gonna kill that fuckin’ whore of yours, you’re gonna bring her back here so I can see her die myself. You got me, kid?”
Vinny nodded slowly, his head filling with anger, regret, and remorse. His fists curled at the knuckles, and he bit his lip to distract himself from the pain he was feeling in his healing wounds. All he could think to say was a simple, “I got it, Benni.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Now that’s what I call a dress, girly!” Max slapped Gloria’s butt as she walked past him sitting on his perch at the bar. “I knew I made the right decision givin’ you a trial. Even if you can’t sing, I know you’ll at least look good doin’ it.”
Gloria gritted her teeth. This wasn’t her first time dealing with the bar owner. Just last week, she had walked into his bar with nothing but a backpack and a turned up smile. She asked him if he had a stage, a microphone, and one night a week she could perform. Gloria was new to town. She had just arrived from Florida and was residing in the rundown shack of a hotel called the Arch View. The woman at the front desk had written her out a list of bars she knew had live bands play.
But although Max was desperate to liven up his dive bar with some entertainment, he hadn’t exactly taken her seriously. She was just another pretty face looking for some five minutes of fame. Nothing about her came across as an experienced and skilled performer. She was timid and coy, and she didn’t talk enough for his liking.
But he liked the way she looked when he talked to her. She had that glean in her eye like she knew way more than he could ever. And when he spoke, she leaned in like he was telling her all the secrets of the universe. Max had never met a woman like her, and without even bothering to listen to her or try her out, he offered her a spot on his bar’s stage that Friday evening.
After dealing with Max, Gloria returned to her hotel tired and worn down. She quickly walked to her bag and counted her bills. No matter how she counted it, she was coming up short. Her last blackmail had gotten her just enough cash to make it out of Florida and up through the southern states.
But the road was not kind to her. Her beat down car drew its last breath somewhere along the Georgia border. She had no choice but to drop a thousand on a new vehicle. As she waited at the local hotel for the call her new car was ready to be picked up, she caught the glimpse of the same men who were checked in at her old Florida stay.
The men and a gang of motorcyclists followed her from state to state, town to town. Wherever she checked in, they checked in. If she dared to pull over to grab a bite to eat at a diner, they were almost always there, as well. Danger was stalking her. She could feel it breathing down her neck. And sleeping with the chair propped up against the doorknob was just not working for her anymore.
Gloria resigned that she needed to set down roots and hope that her seeming to resign her life away from the action would appease the Devils. But in order to do that, she had to figure out a way to make a living. Singing was her only skill outside of blackmailing, and she was lucky she was so damn good at it.
Tonight, she walked to the stage with a guitar strapped to her back. She had spent her last two hundred dollars on an old brown Fender from a pawnshop a few blocks down. It was a bit beat up with stickers still stamped on its side from the previous owner, but the old guitar would have to serve her well tonight.
She hooked it in to the small speaker Max had provided her and strung some chords as a quick sound check. The ten or so men who had showed up turned their bodies slowly to face her. One by one, she could see their eyes looking her up and down in quiet suspicion. Her blue and silver mini-dress, the only one of her stage clothes she had managed to grab when she made her leave from her townhome, looked so out of place against the red velvet décor and the smoke in the air.
“Thank you all for comin’. I’m…” Gloria paused unsure if she was willing to share her identity. “I’m Delilah from Florida. I hope you enjoy this.”
The room grew silent as she played her first few chords rapidly. She launched into an old blues song about a woman looking for love and finding it in all the wrong places. It was a song she never sang at her old gig at the Jackman’s Tavern. She had previously refused to sing anything about love and romance, but now that she was here, as Delilah from Florida, she was free to play what she wanted to play and sing what she wanted to sing.
And, tonight, she wanted nothing more than to sing about love lost. After all, the last time she was on stage, her bodyguard, Vinny, accompanied her. He had watched her eagerly from her favorite back corner booth – the first time she could feel a member of her audience understanding her through the notes she sang and the lyrics she had wrote.
But, tonight, she was singing to a faceless crowd. There was no one there to know who she was or what she had done. Gloria had killed a man with her own hands. She had watched a woman get dragged down to a basement of torture as she sat concealed in a closet. She, herself, had been stabbed and beaten. But that didn’t matter when she was on stage at Max’s Pub. She didn’t know anyone. No one knew her.
That was until Gloria watched the back door slowly open a crack. The light from the street lamp shone through as a shadow of a large body passed through the entrance. And then another. The men walked slowly through the rows of tables and chairs as they took their place at the third row of seating.
The Devils had found her again. And, this time, they were as bold as ever. While they had simply followed her on the road and in her hotel rooms, now they were presenting themselves to her. Gloria only had moments to think of what her angle was—just five minutes to figure out how to make the most of this.
She strummed the final chord as she lifted her arm high above her head. The reverb echoed through the empty spaces of the club and was absorbed by the carpeted walls and the large, tired bodies in her audience. Gloria quickly thanked those who had stayed and acknowledge the bartenders and Max himself. She then packed up her guitar and headed to the bar. Running out would only mean being followed.
“Girl, that was amazing. I knew when I first met ya that you had somethin’ in ya, but I sure as hell didn’t know it was that.” Max beamed as he slapped her back and then rubbed it gently, tracing his fingers along the indent of her bra straps and hooks.
“Thanks, Max. It was an honor to sing here. I hope I can do it again sometime soon.” Gloria was actually being honest. Being back on stage had relieved her from the cloud that had followed her on the run. She finally felt more than just a pawn in some motorcycle club’s war. Instead, she was her own person.
“Tomorrow. I want you back tomorrow. Can ya do it?” He was seeing dollar signs.
“Well, I’m not really sure—“
“I’ll pay you triple, plus tips,” Max interjected. “And if you wanna come in earlier, I’ll let you bartend and make a bit more money. What do you say? You’ll take the deal, won’t ya?” He clasped his hands together in a pleading motion.
“Sure, Max. I’d love to, but you have to buy me a drink or two to seal the deal.” Gloria needed all the liquid courage she could get.
“Right away, girly!” He turned his head to get the attention of the older woman behind the bar, “Hey, Eileen! Shoot me down two shots of tequila. Put it on my tab.”
Gloria toasted with her small shot glass. “To new deals,” she said as she clinked the glass against Max’s.
He then excused himself to greet an old companion who had just headed in. Gloria sat alone at the bar, waiting and anticipating. She played with the corner of the cocktail napkin as she thought about her old band member, partner, and roommate Jordan and his girlfriend, the former bartender of Jackman’s. By now, they would have made it to Colorado an
d had hopefully found some peace and quiet away from the hazardous life Gloria had thrown them in. Jordan would certainly not have approved of how close to the fire she had been getting as of late.
And to her dismay, the flames had come to her tonight. The two men had not taken their eyes off her since she ] finished her set, and now they sat across the bar staring at her with questioning eyes.
For the first time, Gloria had a moment to take them in. The older of the two had a bright red beard that stood out against the porcelain color of his skin. His hair was dingy and stringy, and his gray beady eyes drooped downwards. His partner looked just as tired, but he still had a youth about him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five with his jet-black hair slicked back tightly into a small ponytail.
Gloria became bold. If she were going to be a captive, she might as well have a bit of fun with it. She held up her second shot of tequila towards them, catching their eyes. The younger of the two smiled at her as he joined her in lifting his own beer mug towards hers. The older kept the untrusting scowl upon his face. He whispered into the younger’s ear as he shot daggers at her.
When he finished, the young man led the way, walking quickly to join Gloria in the empty chairs surrounding the end of the wooden bar.
“That was quite a set, Miss…” He held out his hand to her for her to take.
She caught it quickly and said without hesitation, “Delilah. It’s great to meet you.”
“Delilah, eh? I like that name.” The young man snickered, not even bothering to play along.
“It fits me, don’t you think?” She asked the question to the older man standing behind his friend with his arms crossed stiffly across his chest.
“It fits you just like that dress.” The young man’s eyebrows lifted up as he studied her. The blue lace of the dress left nothing to the imagination, clinging to every one of her curves. The silver tie around the bust only brought attention to her best assets.
“This old thing?” Gloria cooed, “It’s the most uncomfortable thing I own. I just wear it to get attention from men like you two.”
“You’ve certainly got mine. I’m Bob and this is John.”
Gloria could tell that those were certainly not their names. She had known no biker who went by “Bob” or “John.” “Well Bob and John, how about you buy me another round? I’m feeling hot tonight.” She wiped back her head, letting her hair springing wildly. The motion made her slip into Bob’s lap. She gently rubbed her hands along the seam of his pants as she brought herself back to standing. She watched as his tan skin blushed from the motion.
John raised his hand to grab the attention of the bartender, but Gloria caught him. “Don’t bother. I’ll serve ya.” She dropped to her feet as she ducked behind the bar. The bartender only giving her a passing look of disapproval. “What are you drinkin’ tonight, John?”
He ordered another two shots for Gloria and a beer for both of the men. Gloria teased him, “Beer? Such a weak drink. Real men drink tequila.” Gloria took two glasses down from the shelf and walked to the tap, her billfold purse in her other free hand. She sat the glasses down on the drain and poured the brown liquid from the spout.
“I don’t do fruity drinks, ma’am. I stick to what I like.”
John was certainly the unmoving one of the two, but he stumbled back as Gloria whispered to him, “If you don’t try new things, how would you ever find anything you like.”
“I know it when I see it,” he answered, tersely.
“Do you see it now?” She shot back the newest drink before her and slammed it down on the table. The man’s road worn face cracked into a smile as Bob laughed at the two of them.
“How about you come back with us and we’ll talk. I may like it better when I can see it up close.”
Gloria was taken aback at how bold these men were, but she couldn’t miss this opportunity. “Finish your drink and it’s a deal.”
The three swallowed their drinks quickly and walked out of the dark bar into the city lights of the night. The men led the way on their motorcycles while Gloria followed behind in her car. To no surprise, they led her to the Arch View Hotel, the same hotel she was checked into.
The hotel room was identical to hers. Decked out in puke green carpets and cream-colored bedding, the décor had not been updated or thoroughly cleaned since 1990. Gloria sat down on the bed, running her hands over the rough comforter. Bob sat down next to her as he pulled out a cigarette to offer to her.
“Ya know, you look just like a girl I knew from my hometown.” He laughed to himself manically, “Singer and all. Dumb as hell, though. She got mixed up in the wrong gang, ain’t that right Conn—I mean John.”
John had sat in a chair across the room, staring at the two with glossy eyes. He had not even registered Bob’s obvious mistake. He just sat silently, letting the scene play out before him.
“Just like me, huh? Did she do this like me?” Gloria slipped off one of the straps of her dress, letting it fall over her bra. “How about this?” The other one came off next.
Bob chuckled like a much younger and inexperienced man. He reached out both hands to grab at her breasts. He bounced the weight up and down as he sighed loudly. He drew himself closer to where she sat, letting himself feel more of his body in his warm hands. He fumbled wildly with the zipper of her dress and the clasp of her tan colored strapless bra.
Gloria took pity on the young man as he grew frustrated with himself and her outfits. She offered gently, “How about you lie back, honey. I’ll do all the rest.”
He drew himself up on the bed towards the pillows, stumbling drunk as he crawled. He flopped down on the mass of bedding as she straddled his hips quickly. She twisted up against him, allowing her naked legs to rub up on his waist. His head fell backwards hard on the bed as Gloria leaned in to kiss him.
But instead of willing lips, he had gone cold. His eyes closed as his head turned to one side. A small speckle of drool pooled at the corner of his mouth as his breathing eased. She could hear a tiny snore. His partner was just the same. Sleeping pills when slipped into alcohol had that effect on even the strongest man. Gloria was thankful she had always kept a couple in her purse for nights when her mind wouldn’t shut off.
She slipped her dress back on as she got to work by slipping her hands down the pants pocket of Bob. She pulled out his white cellphone and began searching the emails and messages. A common, unnamed number popped up several times in the text listings. She opened the first one. It was a mass text sent to at least thirty others. It read, “New spot: Jr at Larson’s. Will be held there till next Sat. Call Devin for info. Goin’ dark.”
Gloria took out her notebook and wrote down the text word for word. No doubt the “Jr” was reference to Calvin Junior, the man who was wanted by the Horsemen for traitorous action. He had been the catalyst of the back and forth battles between the two gangs and now it seemed like he was about to start the war. And if that war turned out to be anything like what they had planned for the Horsemen the last time, she knew it meant nothing but trouble for the one person she had an interest in with this fight: Vinny. If he had made it out alive from the ambush at the quarry, he would still be a very wanted man with the Devils.
Gloria continued to scroll through the messages. She caught her name several times along with some pictures they had taken. One was a shot of her sleeping at night taken through her hotel window in Florida. Another caught her sunbathing in her bikini. Her bare chest had gotten tens of comments from those following along.
But along with each picture was a message about her whereabouts and what she had done that day. Yesterday’s read, “G still in St. Louis. Dinner at Huey’s Burgers. Breakfast and lunch in room. Talked to front desk staff at 4pm.”
Anger overcame Gloria as she tossed the phone angrily to the ground. The stalking, pictures, and invasion of privacy was what she had expected it would be, but seeing it in person made it more clear that she was not just a person of interest. Gloria’s move
ments and actions meant something to them. She just was not sure what.
Gloria walked over to the leather chair that the older biker now slumped over. He was breathing hard and heavy, but occasionally stirred or twitched. His phone was clutched in his hands as Gloria carefully tugged it out of his firm grip. The messages he stored were a treasure trove of information and intel. It was clear to Gloria that John, or whatever his real name was, worked in distribution. He scheduled each shipment of merchandise from dealer to seller and arranged for one of the gang’s members to work in the middle. His calendar app contained a full schedule of each and every transaction, including the name of the man, the location, and if it was a successful drop or not.
Gloria spent the hour taking diligent notes and using her own phone to take pictures of the man’s screen. Her followers, the ones who were not about to let Gloria get away, had given her the best way out possible. They had become her saviors.
As Gloria giddily placed the cellphone back in the lap of the older Devils member, she crouched down to face level. His eyes were still shut tight and she could feel the warm, gentle breath against her face. She reached into his pocket and grabbed his bike’s keys and then whispered into his sleeping ear, “You may not have liked me, but I certainly love you right now.”
Reckless Abandon (Black Horsemen MC Book 3) Page 4