Midnight Deceit: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 3

by Olivia Thorne

  The voice was very country, and very male.

  I’d seen the night manager a couple of times. A chubby Hispanic woman.

  Whoever was outside that door, it wasn’t the night manager.

  SHIT.

  Pull myself out the window, or get behind the bed?

  If I started pulling myself out of the bathroom window and he broke in, I was entirely exposed.

  Did I trust Eddie to do what he said he would?

  FUCK –

  I ran out of the bathroom, ran around the bed, and hunkered down on the floor on the other side.

  “MA’AM,” the country voice shouted. “Open the door.”

  “Go away, I have a gun!” I shouted back, cowering in the darkness.

  WHAM!

  He was breaking in.

  I cocked the gun.

  WHAM-CRACK!

  The cheap lock splintered open and someone burst into the room.

  “Who the fuck was in here?!” the voice shouted.

  “Get out of here or I start shooting!” I yelled back.

  There was a pause. “You’re lyin’.”

  “Try me, asshole.”

  “You stupid biiiIIIAAAAAGGHH – ”

  There was an electrical tzzzzzzt sound, then the sound of 200 pounds of dead weight hitting the floor.

  “It’s okay, you can come out,” Eddie said.

  I peeked over the top of the bed. Eddie was standing over a face-down shape on the floor.

  The guy, whoever he was, had long, scraggly hair. In the dim streetlight from the doorway, I could see the outline of the Midnight Riders logo on the back of his leather jacket.

  “Stun-gunned him,” Eddie explained. “This is Roach. Say hello, Roach.”

  There was a muffled groan from the floor.

  Eddie bent over and checked the biker’s pockets, then flipped him over and patted down his jacket. “Where’s your cell phone, Roach?” he asked rhetorically.

  Roach just moaned again.

  “Fine, be that way.”

  Eddie picked up a gun off the floor and a wicked looking knife from Roach’s jacket, then set them neatly on the dresser. I shuddered as I looked at the razor-sharp edge gleaming in the dim light.

  Eddie ripped the keys off the chain attached to Roach’s pants. “Good thing I parked my bike a half mile away; looks like I’m going to have to clean up after you.” Eddie stood back up and looked over at me. “Lou must really hate your guts, because he sent one of the most fucked-up assholes in the club after you. Multiple rapist, five suspected murder charges – never proven, mind you. And never fully investigated by the Richards PD, either.”

  My stomach turned.

  Rapist.

  Five suspected murder charges.

  Jesus, what had I been thinking when I came here undercover? Just how stupid was I?

  Suddenly a car rrrrRRRRed into the parking lot.

  “Shit – ” I cried out, pulling my gun.

  “No – stop – they’re with me,” Eddie said, holding out his hand.

  The car stopped smoothly in front of the room, headlights off. It was a black sedan – non-descript, with tinted windows.

  Two guys in polo shirts and sports jackets jumped out. They left the engine still running.

  “Eddie,” one of them said in a casual sort of greeting as he leaned over Roach and rrrrrClick cuffed his hands behind his back. The other bagged the gun and knife separately in plastic evidence bags.

  “Thanks for the backup, guys,” Eddie said. “And you can tell them they can stop jamming.”

  “You got it.”

  “You happen to see a bike when you drove up?” Eddie asked.

  “Yeah, there was an old piece of shit parked by the side of the road as we drove in.”

  “Where, south of here or north?”

  “South, about a tenth of a mile. It’s not yours?”

  “Hell no,” Eddie said. “I ain’t livin’ on my salary – I got undercover funds.”

  The two men laughed as they lugged the still-quivering biker out like a sack of potatoes and dumped him in the back seat of the car. One gave Eddie a flippant salute as he opened the driver’s side door, and then the sedan was gone as quickly as it came.

  “What the fuck just happened?” I asked, still in shock. It had taken less than 60 seconds.

  “You got the best protection Uncle Sam has to offer,” Eddie replied. “Which you will continue to get if you work with us.”

  I was slightly horrified that the government could just do that – yank you off the street and make you disappear in less than a minute flat. “Where’d they take him?”

  “Secure location.”

  “They didn’t read him his Miranda rights or anything!”

  Eddie frowned. “He was about to kill you, and you’re worried about his Miranda rights?”

  “No, I’m worried about you and your friends!”

  “Me and my friends just saved your life.”

  “Probably after you endangered it in the first place!” I said angrily.

  “I understand. Believe me, I do. This has been intense. But you’re better off having me as an ally than a pissed-off enemy.”

  I seethed inwardly.

  “Say I work with you. What do I have to do?”

  “Nothing right now. Just do your normal thing – see Pollari, go to your job. Act normal.” He reached in his jacket pocket, brought out a piece of paper and a pen, and wrote down something. “Take these numbers and memorize them, then flush the paper down the toilet.”

  He handed me the slip of paper. There were two phone numbers on it.

  “One’s to a burner I keep on me. The other’s to the command center. It’s set up as a 24-hour answering service for a doctor’s office. If it’s an emergency and you can’t reach me, text them or leave a message saying you’re having a medical emergency, and they’ll get back to you immediately. Do not put either number in your contact list. Do not ever identify yourself by name in a text, and do not ever address me by my name. Never mention anything about the other number other than they’re a doctor’s office. Any time you call or text me or call the other number, immediately delete the record of it in your phone. Any competent hacker could get it out, but the Riders don’t have anybody remotely that good.”

  “Don’t you need my number?” I asked. “To know it’s me?”

  “We already have it.”

  Duh. Of course you do.

  Suddenly there was a vibrating BRBRRR, and something lit up under the dresser.

  “That yours?” Eddie asked me.

  “No.”

  “Must be Roach’s. Must’ve dropped it when I tased him.” Eddie bent over, reached under the dresser, pulled out a scuffed-up iPhone, and looked at it. “Aha.”

  “What do you mean, ‘aha’?” I asked.

  He held up the phone so I could see.

  The word ‘LOU’ was on the cracked screen.

  “Oh God,” I breathed out.

  26

  Jack

  Lou and I sat around in silence for two minutes. I finally got impatient and called again.

  The phone rang five times, then went to voicemail.

  I hung up without bothering to leave a message.

  “Huh,” Lou said, as though he were only mildly interested in the whole situation.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, then turned to Lou. “You think he’s… questioning her?”

  “Not really.”

  “So you think something happened to him?”

  “Who knows?” Lou said, but there was an I told you so glinting there in his eyes.

  27

  Fiona

  “He knows,” I whimpered. “Oh God, he knows…”

  “No he doesn’t,” Eddie said forcefully, trying to calm me down. “He might know you had somebody in here, but he has no idea it was me. And he has no idea what I do.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve been here an hour; they would have jumped
me sooner if they suspected.”

  “But they suspect me, or they wouldn’t have sent somebody!”

  “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. Put your gun in your purse. Go to the diner up the road and order breakfast. Act calm the entire time. Keep the receipt so you have an alibi. Make sure you do something memorable so the waitress remembers you.”

  “If you’re talking about Charlie’s, I worked there for a couple of days.”

  “Even better.”

  “Why do I need an alibi?”

  “So you can prove you were somewhere else when this happened.”

  I understood what he was getting at. “Jack…”

  “You call him all freaked out when you get back here, say your room got turned over and it’s all fucked up. I’ll do the turning over, you just go.”

  “What if Lou tells him? What if Jack doesn’t believe me?”

  “You’re an actress, right? So act. Make him believe.”

  Suddenly the phone rang again.

  Lou.

  Eddie silenced the ringtone and let it go to voicemail.

  This was too much.

  I turned around and pulled at my hair. “I need to get out of here…”

  “Fiona, I need you to stay on this case.”

  I turned around, furious. “What if I leave? Are you going to charge me with all that shit you threatened me with?”

  He breathed out heavily, and for the first time, he looked halfway compassionate. “…no. I’ll understand if you bolt, and I won’t fuck with you. But you came here and put your life in jeopardy to find out what happened to your cousin.” He held up the phone, which was now showing a voicemail from Lou. “Seems like you’re that much closer now.”

  “That much closer to getting killed.”

  He swept his arm towards the door. “So leave. I won’t stop you.”

  I gritted my teeth. “You’re not going to help me if I do that, though, are you.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll never know what happened to my cousin.”

  “Then stay. The kitchen just got a little hotter, that’s all, but I think you can stand the heat.”

  28

  Jack

  “I’m going over there,” I said, and headed for the door.

  “Bad idea.”

  “Your handling of this has been one bad idea after another,” I snarled.

  Lou shook his head like I was the biggest fool he’d ever seen. “Said the idiot she’s been playin’ from day one.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “You need to get the truth out of her.”

  “What, if Roach doesn’t?”

  “My bet is, Roach isn’t even part of the equation anymore. My bet is you’re walking into a trap. Either that or Roach sprung it for you, and when you get there, she’ll give you some song and dance bullshit about what happened.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “If you don’t – ”

  “I said I will.”

  “But if you don’t, I’m using every hard, pipe-hittin’ motherfucker in the club on that bitch, you understand me?”

  I stared Lou down.

  He wasn’t joking.

  The stakes couldn’t have been higher.

  “I got this,” I said quietly.

  “You better, motherfucker. You better.” Lou shook his head, then held out his hand. “Now gimme my fuckin’ phone back.”

  29

  I left the Seven Veils sixty seconds later.

  I knew it was stupid beyond belief – idiotic, moronic, a sucker’s play – but I headed straight for her motel.

  Probably right into a trap. But I had to know. I had no choice.

  I thought of what Roach might be doing to her at this very moment, and I couldn’t stay away.

  Even if she was the mole… I didn’t want him to touch her.

  I’d deal with her myself.

  I parked about a quarter mile down the street. My Harley’s pretty loud, and I didn’t want to telegraph my arrival.

  I jogged to the motel in almost complete darkness. There were only a couple of street lights, and the horizon was just beginning to show the first hint of sunrise.

  On the way, I passed something that made my heart skip a beat. Roach’s 1970 Triumph Bonneville, parked by the curb.

  It’s a classic bike – if kept in good repair. Roach’s was a piece of shit, barely hanging together with duct tape and spit.

  Well, he was still here.

  I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  I slowed down as I got to the parking lot and pulled out my gun. All of the motel windows were dark. Any lights out in front of the rooms had burned out long ago. The neon VACANCY sign was about as dim as could be, and the fluorescent lights in the office offered no help at all. No one could see me coming, which was an advantage.

  On the other hand, I couldn’t see much going on, either.

  I was fifty feet away from her room when the door opened.

  My stomach turned as a man walked out of her dark room.

  I couldn’t tell much about him – he was wearing a black hoodie pulled tight over his head – but I could see what he wore over the hoodie.

  A Midnight Riders leather jacket.

  Oh God no.

  “Roach!” I hissed as I quickened my step. My gun was down by my side, but still in my hand.

  The hooded figure looked over at me – and immediately pulled his gun and aimed.

  Holy shit –

  I dove behind the closest car as two gunshots rang out.

  BLAM BLAM!

  “ROACH, CUT IT OUT!” I yelled. I would have yelled out It’s Jack! but in a gun battle, it’s not exactly a good idea to shout out your name in front of potential witnesses.

  I heard work boots clacking on the asphalt. I looked over the Ford Fiesta I was hiding behind and saw the hooded figure running, his gun in the air, still pointed at me.

  He was heading in the direction I’d come.

  Towards his Triumph Bonneville.

  Shit – I couldn’t exactly shoot at him. How the fuck was I going to explain that one to the club? Yeah, I knew he was there at the motel, and I knew it was Roach… but since he shot at me, I decided to plug him in the back.

  I could follow him, but that just invited more shooting. And I didn’t exactly want to take friendly fire.

  Besides, I didn’t give a shit about Roach right now.

  I only cared about who was back in that room.

  I let Roach get far enough down the street until there was no fucking way he could hit me, then I ran for the motel.

  Her room had been forced open. That was the first thing I noticed – the splintered frame, the cheap, cracked door. I flung it open and reached for the light switch, dreading what I was about to see.

  Her naked body, bloody and bruised, still as death, lying in a pool of red.

  I held my breath and flicked the switch.

  The place flooded with dim light.

  Nothing.

  Well, that’s not exactly true. The place had been tossed like somebody was looking for drugs.

  The dresser drawers were pulled out and scattered on the floor. Every bit of cheap carpet was covered with Fiona’s clothes.

  The bed sheets and ratty comforter were balled up in a corner. The mattress was halfway off the box spring, and the mattress itself was slit all to hell with stuffing spilling out of it.

  But she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  No blood, either.

  “Fiona!” I yelled, and made my way into the bathroom.

  The ceramic top of the commode lay broken in pieces on the tile floor, but other than that, nothing. Nobody in the stained, yellowed bathtub/shower.

  What the fuck?

  I pulled out my phone – and, strangely enough, felt the first stirrings of hope.

  30

  Fiona

  I sat there at Charlie’s Diner toying with my hashbrowns and toast, alternating betwee
n memorizing the two numbers that Eddie had given me and watching the horizon just begin to grow light outside the glass windows.

  I could barely get any food down, but that wasn’t really the point. I made sure to chat with the waitress – Judy, one of the women I recognized from the night shift. She’d always left when I got on duty. When she asked me where I’d been, I told her about the Seven Veils and the shooting. She gasped and clutched her chest and Bless your heart-ed me over and over, then told me I needed to leave that den of sin and iniquity and come back to Charlie’s pronto.

  She would remember me, alright. Alibi secured.

  I thought about everything that had happened.

  I had nearly been shot in a holdup…

  I had sat for hours in Jack’s kitchen, waiting for news…

  Then had crazy, mind-blowing sex…

  Then was accosted and blackmailed by an undercover DEA agent posing as a biker…

  And then found out a rapist-murderer had been sent to kill me.

  Not to mention I now had to go back to a ransacked room and place a fake emergency call to Jack, panicked out of my mind. All as a ruse to try to keep myself from being killed by Lou.

  God, this had been the night from hell.

  Well, not all of it. The sex had been fucking fantastic.

  … so just most of it was the night from hell.

  I was utterly exhausted… and yet I still had hours to go.

  I was about to leave when my phone rang.

  Jack.

  I thought about whether I should answer or not. Then I realized that was stupid – the whole plan was for me to call him as soon as I got back to the motel, right? He had just beaten me to the punch.

  But I was still terrified to see his name on my screen.

  For almost thirty minutes, I had had a time out.

  But now I was back in the midst of the mostly deadly game imaginable.

  Answer the call, or not?

  I decided to answer – but I had to remind myself that I hadn’t seen the room yet, that I had just stepped out for breakfast, that the last time I had seen him I was inviting him inside my room for sex.