What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  There were murmurs of agreement.

  When they got to the warehouse Gauge drove around to the back. He pointed the truck towards the sheet metal wall and the headlights lit up the dirt lot and the water faucet and hose.

  The men piled out and immediately began to strip. They smelled of smoke, gunpowder and death. They tossed all their clothes into a big pile until they were all naked. The four nude, muscled, tattooed killers huddled around the water faucet. Jase grabbed it and sprayed each of them with the cold water until they were soaked, before turning it on himself.

  “Fuck that’s cold.”

  “My balls just disappeared.”

  “I never would have signed up if I’d known about this shit!”

  The complaints were good natured and they laughed. Jase handed each of them the odor-removing soap and a wash cloth, and they got to work, covering their bodies in a soapy lather.

  “Do your hair real good,” Gauge warned in a voice that sounded like a growl, vigorously rubbing his own bald head and goatee beard in demonstration. “It absorbs smell like a motherfucker.”

  Jase rubbed the suds all through his hair, hoping it would remove any taint of smoke or gasoline. When he was done he held the hose over his head and ran his hand through his hair repeatedly to remove the soap.

  He shivered violently as he held the hose for each of the other men in turn, running his eyes over their bodies for anything that would give them away.

  Gauge walked off, striding confidently as if he walked around balls-out all the time. A minute later he was back with the giant ice-hockey bag they’d stashed their regular clothes in and four big towels.

  They dried off under the bright lights of the truck, and quickly pulled their clothes back on. They piled back inside and Gauge opened the glove-box and pulled out a bottle of whisky.

  “Fuck yeah,” said Lonnie, his face still stretched wide by his never ending smile.

  Gauge made to hand it over then paused a moment. “Get out a minute, everyone.”

  “Why?”

  They were already doing as he’d requested. They’d agreed to trust Gauge today and he hadn’t let them down so far.

  “Your hair. You guys have all got wet hair. Why the fuck would you all have wet hair at a wake. Pretty suspicious.”

  “Should we cut it off?” asked Bottle.

  Lonnie laughed. “And that wouldn’t be suspicious? Use your noggin, Bottle.”

  “Nah.” Gauge grinned. “Whisky showers. It’s the only answer.”

  Everyone laughed as Gauge proceeded to pour whisky over each of their heads, except his own.

  “Now go smoke some cigarettes. Get the smell of that fuckin’ soap off. We’re supposed to be dirty bikers not English princesses.”

  “Hey—” started Lonnie.

  “Except you. You’re an English princess. An English princess with shitty, smoky, whisky-reeking hair.”

  Lonnie laughed. “Like Princess Margaret?”

  “Who?”

  “What?”

  Lonnie sighed. “Never mind.”

  They piled back into the van, closed the windows, lit four cigarettes and did their best to make themselves smell like a bunch of dirty bikers.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Nicole

  When it was almost time we drained our glasses and stood up from the table.

  “What’s that?” asked Lucy.

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  Then I heard the sirens. I gulped. I had been hoping I wouldn’t have to talk to the police. Maybe I wouldn’t have to, but it seemed increasingly likely. For the thousandth time that week I wondered what I’d gotten myself into, and for the thousandth time I remembered Jase.

  I watched as Lucy pulled off the t-shirt and dropped it onto the table. Together we both kicked off our shoes and wriggled out of our jeans.

  The sirens got louder and then we heard the thumping of boots flying up the metal staircase. As we heard footsteps rapidly approaching I prayed it wasn’t the police.

  The door swung open and Bottle and Jase came flying in.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Jase was beaming and his only response was to push himself against me, giving me a kiss that left me shaking. Why does he taste of cigarettes? And he’s reeking of whisky.

  “We’re good. It’s done.”

  I looked at Lucy and she was smiling. It wasn’t exactly a smile of happiness, in fact it was kind of scary. But still, she was smiling.

  Jase and Bottle both quickly removed their boots, and then Jase pulled off his jacket and shirt. I pressed my hands against his torso and then welcomed his embrace. I felt him undo the clasp of my bra and then our bare chests were pressed together.

  Outside I heard thumping on the stairs again.

  “Quick.”

  Jase pushed me hard and I flew onto the bed, the shock of the movement making me gasp. I saw Bottle stare at Lucy confused, before she gave him a shove and he lay on the bed beside me.

  Jase pulled his jeans and underwear down while I wriggled out of mine. A moment later he yanked me forward so my ass was at the edge of the bed, and lifted my legs onto his shoulders. He entered me roughly sending a shudder to run through my body. Will we ever do this slowly?

  I looked to my side and I saw Lucy had pulled open Bottle’s jeans. My eyes met hers as she took him in her mouth and the trailer door burst open.

  I let out a scream. The law enforcement officers were pointing handguns at us. Lucy lifted her head up and looked over her shoulder with an annoyed look.

  Jase held himself inside me as he turned to look behind. “Ever hear of knocking? We’re busy.”

  They didn’t laugh. Soon we were re-dressed and heading to the sheriff’s office.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Nicole

  The soft paper cup yielded under my fingers as I squeezed it tighter and tighter. Across from me the sheriff sat, staring at me, watching as I tortured the cup.

  I don’t know how long he’d kept me in the cell. They’d brought me a breakfast and a lunch. At first Lucy had been with me, but she’d soon been taken away to be interviewed and she didn’t come back. They said they’d released her.

  I’d heard motorcycles and laughter from outside earlier. It was clear everyone had been released. Everyone except me. Now, finally, it was my turn.

  The sheriff’s liquid brown eyes bore into mine. “Are you a prostitute?”

  What the hell? “No!” The sound of my voice shocked me. I’d hardly spoken a word since the night before and that solitary word spit out sounded alien to me.

  There was a twitch in the corner of his lips. “This isn’t Nevada, Nicole. And that was not a licensed bordello.”

  “I’m not a prostitute!” I can’t believe this.

  The sheriff’s eyes didn’t break their gaze as he lifted his own cup and drained the contents. He crumpled the paper cup into a ball and dropped onto the table that separated us, a small trail of bad coffee leaking out of the mess. “I was there Nicole, I saw you,” he paused as if searching for a word, “working.”

  What the hell is the matter with this guy? “I am not a prostitute! I was not working!”

  “So you were giving up that sweet little ass for free?”

  Can he say speak to me like that? I locked my gaze with his. “I was having fun with my friends. We were trying to forget about a recent murder which you failed to solve.”

  “Having fun? That’s what you call being used as a biker fuck toy? A fuck toy for a bunch of degenerate assholes, no less?”

  Bastard. Bastard, bastard, bastard.

  A smile twitched across his lips before he started to recite from memory, “3519, Billington Avenue—”

  The hell? “Where did you get that?”

  He ignored the question. “That’s your daddy’s address right? The famous attorney? I was thinking we should call him up and invite him down. I’m sure he’d love to make a six hour drive to hear about how his
darling daughter is offering up her sweet little snatch to the entire local MC instead of studying for finals.”

  “No! Please!” Fuck. He’ll kill me. Or worse, he’ll be disappointed in me. I shuddered at the thought.

  “No, no, I insist. While you may technically be an adult, and even old enough to drink, I think it’s my civic duty to inform him.”

  “Please, I’ll do anything!”

  “Wait here sweet-cheeks. Back in a moment.”

  The chair squeaked as it slide backwards. I lunged forward to grab the sheriff’s arm, hoping to stop him, but I couldn’t reach it in time. He was already up and heading to the door. He gave my lunging arm a derisory look before heading outside.

  I leaned forward and let my head drop to the table. It hit with a thud. The pain that flashed through my skull was a welcome relief. I sat there, head on the table, unmoving as tears slowly trickled down my cheeks.

  I don’t know how long he left me there simmering. It felt like an hour. No, it felt like a day, a year, a life time. But he came back whistling, closing the door gently before sitting down across from me and stopping his tuneless melody.

  I didn’t even look up. I wanted to keep my head buried under my arms forever.

  “Look at me Nicole.”

  I didn’t move.

  “Look at me. I didn’t call him. It’s okay.”

  Relief flooded through me as I raised my tear streaked face. “Really?”

  “Really. But I’m worried about you, Nicole.” His voice was softer now. It had lost the nasty streak that had run through his every word earlier.

  “Why are you worried about me? Who am I to you?”

  He reached over and patted my hand with a gentle touch. “I dug into your background before. Just a little. I wasn’t prying, I was investigating the case; it’s my job.”

  “Uhuh…”

  “So I know about you Nicole. I know this isn’t really you. You’re not some party chick for bikers to use up and toss away. You’re one of us Nicole.”

  I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my shirt. “Us?”

  “Yeah. Intelligent. Law abiding. Someone who doesn’t throw their whole goddamn life away joyriding on motorcycles—or their owners. You’re a college student, Nicole. You’re not a middle-school-dropout like their usual skanks. You’re not cut out for that life. You’re better than that.”

  I sniffed again as his words ran through my mind. Sitting in the chilly air-conditioned room I suddenly felt lonely. He squeezed the top of my hand.

  “Come on, we should get you back to your college. I’m sure you’ve never been picked up like this before, you must be shocked, right?”

  I nodded. “A little.” His sudden change in demeanor had me reeling. Before he’d come back I’d been furious with him—furious and terrified of him calling my father, that is. Now? I didn’t know what to think.

  “I’ll call you a cab. Here.” He pushed a business card across the table. It was his. “If you need help, if those bikers try and make you do anything you don’t want to do, you give me a call, okay?”

  Make me do something I don’t want to do? Like what? I nodded as I took it and slid it into my jeans.

  He left the room again and this time I felt more at ease. When he returned it was to announce that the cab had just pulled up. I pushed back the chair, wiped my eyes and headed outside. I hope they’ve all gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jase

  She better not have said anything. She wouldn’t have, right? She doesn’t know anything anyway. Jase paced back and forth outside the sheriff’s office. He’d been questioned and released in no time. Everyone had. There was nothing to link them to the crime, and as much as they loved to harass the MC the sheriff’s office had better things to do today. Apparently they wanted to ‘solve’ the crime, or find someone to blame, before the Feds arrived.

  A taxi pulled up behind Jase’s parked motorcycle and idled outside. A rare site in Farmington, there was only one taxi firm and he doubted they even had a dozen cars. Most of their work was driving old people around for the local government because they were cheaper than using ambulances. There were no old people in the sheriff’s office.

  Jase took aim at a rock, and with a powerful boot sent it hurtling down the dusty road. It’s a strange feeling when intense stress and worry is competing with boredom for attention. Why the hell is it taking so long?

  Everyone else was back down the clubhouse now. With the wake over it was back to business, and there was a lot of shit to sort out with their first shipment of the Koreans’ product imminent. This shit better move easily or we’re screwed.

  We do a lot of debt collection around the trailer parks. I bet we could…

  Just as Jase was formulating an idea to move more product the door swung open and a familiar and welcome face appeared. He ran over. “Hey! Are you okay?”

  She didn’t look okay. She’d been crying. “I’m fine. I’m going back to my dorm.”

  “Alright, hop on.” He patted the back seat of the motorcycle.

  She shook her head. “They called me a taxi.” She made toward the back door of the beat-up old car.

  What the hell? Jase grabbed her arm. “Fine. Take a taxi. But, should I be worried?”

  He stared into her eyes and was relieved when a look of confusion crossed it. Thank God. “What? No. Just… leave me alone for a while, okay?”

  “Why? What’s the matter?” What the fuck is going on? I don’t like this.

  “Nothing. It’s just. Y’know. It’s been fast, too fast. I need to think. I’ve got finals coming up soon.” She gently pulled her arm away from his grip and it slid between his fingers.

  “What?”

  “Final exams. I’m a student, remember?”

  Exams. Shit, it’s been a long time since I had to worry about exams. “Right. Okay. Finals. So let me give you a ride.”

  She shook her head and gestured towards the waiting car. “The taxi’s here now. I’ve gotta go.”

  Jase stepped towards her for a kiss, or a hug, or something, but she was already turning away. He stopped himself awkwardly as she got into the taxi and closed the door behind her. This is weird. Why’s she acting like this? It’s not just exams is it?

  As the taxi pulled away he looked at her through the window. She was staring dead ahead, her eyes vacant.

  What the hell did they do to you in there? Jase let out a sigh and as he turned to the only female that had never let him down, his bike, something caught his eye. Or someone, rather.

  The sheriff stood by the door of his office staring at him from behind mirrored sunglasses. He chewed on something, his jaws working up and down in a methodical fashion as he seemed to stare at Jase. He turned his head down and spat, before staring back in the biker’s direction. The corners of his lips seemed to raise, but not into a smile. It was a smirk.

  Jase shook his head and clambered onto his bike. There’s something wrong with that one. He pushed the starter and the bike greeted him with a happy thudding and a pop from the exhaust. He stroked the gas tank for a second before releasing a sigh and heading back to the clubhouse. He took the long way there.

  The main room of the clubhouse was a wreck. Where the fuck are the prospects? Empty bottles skittered across the floor as he stormed through the debris. The doors to the meeting room were closed, but he knew everyone would be inside. Before entering he took a deep breath to try and clear his head. Inhaling the reek of stale smoke and spilled booze didn’t have the desired effect though. A sigh passed between his lips and he pushed the door open.

  For fuck’s sake. The Doctor was sitting in Bigfella’s chair. That ain’t right.

  “With some help, I can do it—” Bottle interrupted what he was saying as Jase entered and all eyes turned to him.

  His eyes scanned the room. Everyone was there. “Sorry I’m late.” As he made his way to his customary seat he stared at the Doctor coldly. The man sitting at the head of the table looked down, a
s if embarrassed.

  The Doctor looked down the table, not looking directly at Jase as he explained, “We were just working on some strategies. We’ve got a lot of product to move if we want to earn big.”

  Jase nodded, it was time for business. He’d deal with the seating arrangements later. “I was thinking. My boys have got a lot of contacts out in the trailer parks and other shit-holes…”

  There were nods of understanding around the table. The security company that Jase ran also did debt collection, and the people they tended to collect debts from were usually those who were least able to pay them. They had a surprisingly large number of big screen TVs, video game systems and expensive smart phones though. And appetites for drugs.

  Jase continued, “I figure most of these places have some small time dealer. We persuade the dealer to buy his supplies from us. We don’t have to do the small time distribution, just supply the supplier. And,” Jase paused for a second, “I happen to know, a lot of these guys get their shit from a certain Mexican gang.”

  There was laughter around the table. “Not anymore,” said Lonnie.

  “I heard those guys are toast,” said Eag.

  There was more laughter around the table. Is this it now? Is this how it’s going to be? His immediate rage quenched, Jase now felt an emptiness inside. He thought wiping out the people who’d whacked Brodie would make him feel better, but it didn’t, not really. The overwhelming urge to kill had gone, but now there was a quiet ache instead. Does anyone else feel it?

  The Doctor banged the table for quiet, the same way Bigfella used to. Used to, it’s only been just over a week. “Jase, you manage that. Bottle has an interesting idea too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We went over it before you got here,” he said. Was there some recrimination in that? Because I was late? “But basically, we’re planning to take over the whole distribution network the Mexicans built up.”

  Jase nodded. “Sounds good. Fill me in later, Bottle?”