Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection

by Parker, Kylie

  On Route 66, somewhere between Oatman and Kingman, as the telltale sounds of their Harleys tore through the night silence, Bruce spotted a large vehicle from a distance, heading their way. He turned his head to the left and glanced at Matt, but his friend did not return the glance. Bruce pulled in the clutch lever, pressed down on the shifter, let the clutch lever back out and rolled on the gas, leaving Matt behind. He was curious as to why a vehicle like that would completely disregard the rain and run like that in the middle of the night. An uphill stretch of road blocked his view. Just when he made it to the top though, the vehicle in question was much closer. It was a dark-colored van, swerving left and right. The driver had clearly lost control. Bruce had to remain calm, even though the van was still moving quite fast and could end up crashing into him or Matt. More than a hundred yards down the road, the van driver stepped on the brakes, as it swerved right. They squealed and the front tires of the heavy vehicle screeched, picking up smoke. It rolled onto its left side; the bang that it made reverberated through Bruce’s skull. He opened his eyes wide, watching it as it drug itself along the road. Bruce and Matt had no choice but turn their motorcycles right and get off the road altogether. The muddy soil was not an ideal alternative; they could easily slip and get seriously hurt. However, both men were experienced riders. They gently stepped on the brakes, just before they left the road, slowing down considerably.

  Debris from around the van flung itself sideways. Sparks flew as the metal scraped along the asphalt. The glass on the driver window was smashed and its rear door opened, before the van was brought to a complete halt. Bruce turned his motorcycle to the left and returned to the road, looking down at the battered vehicle. He stopped his motorcycle a few feet behind the van, put it on the main stand and got off of it in a hurry. Large shards of glass gave way underneath his feet, as he approached the cab. A quick glance in it disappointed him. The overweight driver could not have been more than forty years old. His head was on the steering wheel. Blood was dripping down his temple. The sleeve of his white t-shirt was badly torn and there was blood flowing down his chest, as he had a gushing wound on the base of his neck. Bruce sat back on his feet and put his arm through the broken window. He placed his hand on the left side of the man’s chest. His heart had stopped. Then, Bruce took his hand off of the man’s chest and checked his wrist for a pulse, only to confirm his worst suspicions: He was dead. Before he could verbalize though, he sensed Matt’s big hand on his shoulder. Bruce slowly turned around. His friend was holding a big, gray bag of money in the air and had a broad grin on his face.

  “It looks like we got lucky.” Matt said. “Really lucky.”

  Bruce couldn’t believe his eyes. Intrigued, he ignored his friend and ran to the back of the van, eager to explore the interior. Three more, smaller bags had fallen out of the vehicle, but those contained coin rolls. A few of them had been ripped; coins were spilled all over the road. Bruce snuck a peek into the van. There were more than a dozen bags of money piled on top of one another, similar in size to the one that Matt had in his grasp and a few smaller ones scattered around them. Both of them suspected where it had come from: A Las Vegas casino.

  “Give me some light.” He urged, grabbing the bag closest to him. Matt pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket and pointed it at the blue, mechanical seal on top of the bag. The gold logo left them no doubt. It read:

  Platinum Gate Casino

  “Holy shit.” Bruce whispered. “This can’t be good.”

  “Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” Matt squealed. “We’re rich!”

  “Rich?” Matt snorted, turning to his friend. “Casinos don’t use ordinary vans to move their money, brother. They use armored trucks and they always go in twos. One of them is bait. This money’s stolen, which means that the casino owner is probably looking for it as we speak.”

  “Bruce, we found it!” Matt cried, his voice echoing in the emptiness. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to take at least some of it!”

  “We’re legit now, man!” Bruce yelled. “Do you want to start looking over your shoulder again? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

  “This money is going to help us expand our business.” Matt lowered his tone. “I’m not going to gamble it.”

  Bruce did not have time to speak his mind. His ears picked up the rumbling sound of a car engine. Neither of them could see any headlights in the vast straight in front of them, but Bruce did not want to risk an encounter with an angry casino owner or his staff.

  “Speak of the devil.” He murmured. “Let’s get out of here.”

  It soon became clear to him that Matt was not going to let this opportunity pass him by. He crawled into the back of the van, as Bruce made his way back to his Harley. As he started the engine, his friend emerged out of the destroyed vehicle, with two of the smaller bags of money in his hands. He sprinted along the road and handed one of them over to Bruce.

  “Take it!” He urged, panic lingering in his voice, as the sound of the approaching car got louder. By now, Bruce could see headlights at the far end of the road. The car in question was not alone; two more cars were right behind it. Unfortunately for him, he did not have time to argue with Matt. One car showing up in the middle of nowhere so late at night was weird enough. Their numbers forced him to believe that his theory was correct. They had to leave that place and fast. Bruce snatched the bag away from Matt. He eased it down on the right footrest.

  “Do what I did.” Bruce advised. “Keep it out of sight.”

  A smile spread across Matt’s face, upon hearing his friend’s words.

  “Ok.” He said with a nod, as the unique sound of Bruce’s Harley ripped through the cool, late night air. In a matter of seconds, Bruce Harris and Matt Miller were back on the road, on their way to Sin City. The three cars that he had spotted passed them by, more than half a mile down the road. As much as he wanted to, Bruce could not risk a glance at them. Even though his helmet concealed his face, such thing could draw suspicion.

  Knowing that neither of them could show up in Las Vegas with a bag of money with a casino logo on it, Bruce pulled over again more than ten miles away from the spot where the accident had occurred. They used pocket knives to cut through the mechanical seals. Bruce’s bag contained $90,000, whereas Matt’s contained $110,000. The two men took the money and agreed to burn the bags and the seals alike. They could not leave any evidence behind.

  “Damn you for making me do this, Matt. I hope I don’t regret it.”

  2

  Bruce Harris and Matt Wilson arrived in the sparkling city of Las Vegas well after 1am that night. The long ride had exhausted them, but neither of them could even consider going to bed, for different reasons. Bruce was too tense; deep down, he knew that the money they had stolen would get them into trouble. On the other hand, Matt was blissful. In his mind, they had done nothing wrong. He couldn’t wait to go out and have some fun. Bruce was ok with the idea of going out. Having a few drinks would help him relax and take his mind off of things, but he categorically rejected Matt’s suggestion to gamble. After checking in their hotel “New Mexican” on Las Vegas Strip, the two friends went out.

  Two hundred yards down the busy road, a large picture of a black, vintage Harley on the glass façade of a nightclub caught Bruce’s eye. The equally big, blue, neon sign over it lured him like a magnet:

  Java Jack’s

  Next to that club was a massive, modern bar, with an ordinary glass façade that allowed people to take a look inside. It was crowded; many men and women were on the right and left of the entrance, dancing around. The huge, red, neon sign read “Happy Jane’s.”

  “Here I come, Jane.” Matt spoke, smiling to himself.

  “I’m not going to a chic club, buddy.” Bruce disagreed. “It’s ‘Java Jack’s’ for me.”

  “Dude, a biker club? Really?” Matt squinted at him.

  “It just feels better, Matt. More manly.” Bruce explained. “Besides, do you
see any other bikes here, other than ours and that Softail over there?” He asked, pointing at the electric-blue Harley, a few yards to the right.

  “Nope. That’s an amazing bike, brother.” Matt commented.

  “My point exactly.” Bruce winked at him. “You can visit that chic club some other time. Now, let’s go have some fun.”

  The two men walked into the nightclub, under the sound of Metallica’s “The Unforgiven”. It served as a welcome surprise to both of them, especially Matt, who was still upset about his friend’s choice. Bruce scanned the club. The wall across from them and the one on the left were lined with every major Harley Davidson ever made. The one on the right was smaller and featured big posters of rock and heavy metal bands, like Guns ‘n’ Roses and Metallica. Next to that wall was the bar of the unexpectedly crowded nightclub. Despite the fact that there were more a hundred people there though, the bar was almost completely empty. A young brunette was sat on the stool in the far corner and an elderly man five seats away from her. Bruce loved her looks. She had long, dark-brown, curly hair, but something else on her really made him want to go talk to her. She wore a black, leather outfit, similar to the one that he and Matt had on.

  “Sweet.” Matt remarked, staring at the blonde barmaid.

  “Go get her tiger.” Bruce gave him an elbow jab, before starting towards the bar. The brunette turned her head to the right and faced him. Her almond-shaped, light-brown eyes sparkled in the dim light. She couldn’t have been more than 5’6”, but Bruce did not like tall women anyway. He liked to tower over women; his 6’3”, imposing stature allowed him that.

  “Nice outfit.” He spoke in his deep baritone, with a cunning smile on his face, taking a seat next to her.

  “Nice try.” Her voice was high-pitched and very attractive indeed, but her words disappointed him. She hopped off her stool, glaring at him. Bruce had no reason to even look at her anymore and averted his gaze from the brunette altogether.

  “Shot down in a blaze of glory.” He said to himself, quoting the famous Jon Bon Jovi song “Blaze of Glory”, fixing his gaze on the bottles across from him. Meanwhile, Matt and the barmaid had already started talking to each other. She would not smile at him, but it appeared to be going better than his miserably failed attempt.

  “Too bad. I really liked that one. Oh well… Vegas is a big city and I’m going to be here for a week. I can meet someone else. She’d better look a lot like her, though. I loved that curly hair of hers. Oh, crap! She’s the first girl that said ‘no’ to me in ten years! What’s going on? Snap out of it, Bruce. She’s clearly upset about something and I don’t think it’s you. I mean, what did you say to her? You just paid her a compliment.”

  “For the last time, I’m twenty-eight years old! I don’t need my father to call me every few minutes and ask me when I’m going home!” She yelled, her voice audible over the loud, rock music. Bruce looked up at her over his left shoulder. She was really upset; she put her phone in the pocket of her jacket, as she ran her left hand through her hair, sighing. He would not address her; opening his mouth at that time did not feel like a good idea, as she could well take her frustration out on him. The brunette hopped back on her stool and then took her empty glass in her hand.

  “Jenny, I need a refill.” She said, looking up at the blonde barmaid. Then, out of the blue, she returned her gaze to Bruce. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m Melissa Smith. Thanks for the compliment.”

  “Bruce Harris. Pleasure.” He introduced himself with a faint smile on his face, trying hard to hide his surprise, offering his hand for a handshake. “Don’t worry about it. I take it the Softail outside is yours. That’s a beautiful machine.”

  “Well, thanks again.” A big smile spread across her face, as she shook his hand. “It is. Do you ride?”

  “Yep. A 1200 Custom. My friend rides a Seventy-Two. We’re from Boston. We’re on a road trip. We just arrived.” Bruce replied, feeling the skin of her soft palm into his.

  “No kidding!” Melissa exclaimed. “You mean you rode all the way here from Boston?”

  “That’s right.” Bruce nodded.

  “Let me guess. You guys came here because you saw the bike on the façade. Am I right?” She asked.

  “Yeah.” He admitted. “It looks really great. The place is pretty good, too. It’s got a nice vibe to it.”

  “Well, it should.” Melissa laughed. “It’s a vintage bar. I’ve known the owner since I was a little girl. Jack used to be a Black Sabbath roadie, back in the day.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Bruce commented.

  “He’s got like a ton of stories. You should ask him. He’s the guy talking to your friend.” She stated, throwing a rapt glance at the elderly man at the bar. “What about you? What made you decide to cross…” She paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Seven states?”

  “My friend and I are mechanics.” He claimed. “We spend a lot of time fixing motorcycles, but we never get the chance to enjoy our own. We just ride to the workshop and back. It’s pretty sad if you think about it, but it’s true.”

  “No.” Melissa waved her hand in front of her face. “That’s today. We all work to death. Trust me, I’m a lawyer. I know how that feels.”

  “A female biker lawyer?” Bruce sounded surprised. “I’m impressed.”

  “I was wondering when you were going to say that.” She laughed once more, making his heart flutter. “Men think that…”

  “Let me stop you right there.” He interrupted her. “I don’t care what other men think. I think it’s hot, kind of. I’ve never seen a woman ride a Harley before.”

  “Hot?” She wondered, leaning towards him.

  “Yeah.” Bruce spoke, his voice firm. “Harleys are absolutely gorgeous. What’s better than seeing a beautiful woman like you ride one of them?”

  “Thank you. Again.” Melissa made her voice sound sweeter. “Are all bikers good talkers where you come from?”

  By all means, Bruce should be thrilled that she was flirting with him. After all, he liked her very much. But, her obvious interest in him did not seem to matter. Her question had brought back terrible memories of things he had been trying to forget for years. He dropped his gaze to the floor, as his smile disappeared.

  “Not really.” He groaned. “I’m sorry, Melissa. I got to go.”

  “Go? What are you talking about? You just got here!” Frustration was lingering in her voice. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing. I just…” Bruce faltered. “Remembered something.”

  The quick ride back to his hotel felt like an eternity. He wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth. Bruce had just lost a very good opportunity to have some fun on his first night in Las Vegas. Melissa had reminded him of the money that they had stolen that night and theft was only a part of the life that he put behind him, when he and Matt left the motorcycle club.

  Later, in his hotel room, Bruce was having second thoughts about his decision. However, if he had stayed, he would have to explain why he was so upset.

  “You’re a great-looking girl Melissa, but I couldn’t pour my heart out to someone I’ve just met. I wonder what Matt’s up to. Nah, who am I kidding? He’s probably going to sleep with that barmaid. Sometimes, I wish I could take things lightly like he does. I could do that tonight; I wouldn’t worry about the money we stole and we’d have a great time. Stealing from a bank is one thing. Stealing from a casino can become very messy.”

  Indeed, Bruce had regretted his decision to take the money. At some moment, he even thought of flushing it down the toilet. He had a very good idea about what would happen to him and Matt, should the casino owner found out. There have always been rumors about the numerous holes in the Mojave Desert. He didn’t want to end up in one of them. The money that they had stolen was not worth that risk, but, even if it was, they had promised to each other to lead a quiet life, after leaving the motorcycle club.

  Bruce lay in bed, exhausted by the long ride and the night’s events. As
fate would have it though, he did not stay there for more than just a few seconds. His phone rang; it was Matt.

  “Hey, man.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, I was just about to crash. What’s up?”

  “Do me a favor. Look out the window.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  Bruce lazily sat up and got out of bed. He went to the window on the right and looked down at the road, only to see Matt on his motorcycle, with Jenny sat behind him and Melissa on her motorcycle, pulling over on the right side of the road.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yeah.” Bruce whispered, still trying to wrap his head around what he had just witnessed. Melissa was there, but he had no idea why.

  “Sorry man, she insisted. She said she wanted you to see her riding that bike. That chick’s crazy.”

  “It’s alright, brother.” Bruce smiled. At that moment, Melissa dismounted her motorcycle and walked up to Matt. “Give her the phone, will you?” Bruce requested. Matt indulged his friend. She looked up and slightly to the left, before she waved at Bruce.

  “Hi there.” Melissa said in a sweet tone.

  “Hey. I’m sorry I left.”

  “Meet me at 3320, Bonanza Road, tomorrow night at 8pm. It’s a pretty big supermarket. It’s kind of hard to miss. Let’s see how fast that bike of yours really is.”

  “What?!” Bruce couldn’t believe his ears. “You want to race with me?”

  “No, silly.” She chuckled. “I’ll explain when you get there. Goodnight.”