by AJ Adams
“Bad?” I asked.
Crush just nodded. Then he stared pointedly at Lacy.
Of course, she eyeballed him right back, “Don’t mind me.”
“This is business, and private,” I told her.
“Call Jason and I’m gone.”
“For God’s sake! I called him already!”
“Then do it again.” She spoke sweetly, but her eyes were hard. “I don’t want you haring off to Durham or wherever and leaving me here, twiddling my thumbs. I have a life to get back to.”
The executive were coldly eyeing Lacy except for Crush who grumped, “Isn’t she supposed to be submissive?”
“Fuck off,” Lacy snapped.
As Crush stiffened and reached for her instinctively, Lacy raised her Muesli spoon threateningly. “Whack me, and I’ll whack you back.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try it, and see!”
She was half his size, and she was ready to take him on. Worse, he was about to let her push his buttons. Fed up, I gave them have both barrels. “ENOUGH!”
They backed off, glaring at each other.
“You!” I snapped at Lacy. “Take your coffee and go outside.”
“But -”
“Out, or I will have you thrown out, and our deal’s off!” I was so damn mad that I meant it. “Go!”
She left, grumbling furiously. Crush was fuming as well, but he kept his trap shut.
“How bad is it?” I asked again.
“The Horde burnt down the Durham pub last night,” he growled. “Three of the staff live upstairs. Two bartenders and a waitress.”
My guts were churning, and it wasn’t hangover; two years before, my warehouse had been the focus of an arson attack. “Did they get out?”
“Yes, but they’re in ICU. Smoke inhalation but no burns, thank God.”
“And Skegness?”
“Warehouse raid,” Kraken spat. “They stormed the place ten minutes after the last shift left.”
“So the staff are safe?”
“Yes, but they beat down the guards. Crowbars. A dozen against two.”
Jesus, it had been brutal. “And?”
“One didn’t make it, the other won’t walk again,” Kraken said bleakly. “Also, they came across two office girls, working overtime. Raped and beaten.”
“Fucking bastards!” We’re men, and we take on anyone at any time, but only an animal rapes. I know. I sound like a hypocrite. Thinking of the night before, “I get you, all night long,” I ignored the sliver of ice that lanced through me. I just didn’t want to deal with it. “Do we have names?”
“Yes,” Crush nodded. “Poison and Snake want to take care of this, and it’s their turf, but we’re offering support.”
That may sound odd to you, but it’s how we work. You see, all Disciples are brothers but each chapter functions as an independent business association. Most own a clubhouse, pub, garage and maybe a delivery service. And of course, we’re all into alternative revenue streams, meaning sex, drugs, smuggled booze, and fags.
When it goes pear-shaped, the chapter is responsible, but we all pitch in and help. We’re egalitarian but the way it is, the Bonnington Disciples are a bit more equal than others. It’s partly because we’ve lots of experience but mostly because we’re turning over seven figures a year easy whereas the others are lucky to hit six.
“About that support,” Flash mused. “We could take a ride to Skegness and then mosey over to Durham.”
“There’s still a couple of dozen associates on the lawn,” Kraken pointed out. “Once they hear what’s gone down, they’ll ride with us.”
“We’ll form a posse,” Flash agreed.
“That’s probably a bad idea,” Crush countered. That was so unlike him, he loves a scrap more than anyone, that we all stared. “We’ve got ten thousand visitors coming today,” he reminded us. “If I were in charge of the Horde, I’d use that distraction and attack.”
“Fuck, yes,” Flash groaned. “Jesus, why can’t I think like that?”
“’Cause you’re all heart,” Kraken grinned.
“And no head,” DT deadpanned. “Apart from the little one, of course. It rules, right?”
Flash didn’t miss a beat. “Yours may be little, but I’m hung like a damn mule.”
Crush rolled his eyes, “Talking about dicks; we can’t rely on Harding to back us up. The new inspector doesn’t like us at all. If we’re attacked, he’ll watch and laugh.”
“We’ve got extra security lined up in the village already,” I reminded him. “It should cover anything the Horde throw at us, but we’ll tell them to keep a sharp eye out, just in case.”
“There’s plenty of members staying over for the Bonnington Music Fest,” DT said. “They can act as backup troops if we need them.”
“That will be enough to safeguard Perdition and the village,” Crush agreed.
“Then we’re good to go,” Flash mused.
I was ready to ride. “There’s six of us, and we’re all seasoned. That should be enough to help Snake and Poison.”
But Crush and DT were shaking their heads.
“I have to be here for the opening and tonight’s show, but for the rest, Mitch and my team can deal,” I pointed out.
“You’re forgetting the banker wankers,” DT sighed. “You need to be squeaky clean, remember?”
“They won’t hear about it.”
“They will when we break their arms and legs,” Crush snapped. “We’re going to send a message, and it will be heard in every corner of the country.”
“I should be part of it.”
“You don’t need to prove anything. You need to be here when David comes,” Crush pointed out. “One of the executive has to be here. And anyway, you have to fix that shutter-fuck.”
“He’s not answering his phone.” I called Barrows again. Still straight to messages. Annoyed, I texted him. No double blue tick.
“Rex, what does that woman have on you?” DT was troubled. “I was too pissed last night to take in the details.”
“Yeah, me too,” Flash said. “Remind me, who is she?”
I’m not a legal eagle like Zero, but I’d picked up enough in my time with the MC to know you don’t involve your mates in your shit. Especially if it’s well after the fact.
“She thinks she’s got me on some dodgy dealing,” I said carefully. “It’s nothing.”
There was a dead silence. They knew I was lying and as I’d never done that, they were concerned.
“She mentioned Goxhill,” Flash mused.
I hoped he’d remember the dozens of runs we’d made to pick up smuggled booze and fags rather than that one night we went for revenge. We’re not shy of beating our enemies into hospital, but Disciples don’t kill. Well, they don’t. I’m different. I’m a nasty bastard. But I protected them to keep them safe. Also, to be honest, I wasn’t sure how they’d react if they knew the truth.
“Rex is quite capable of dealing with that kinky tart,” Crush neatly provided a distraction. “If he can steer clear of her cuffs and focus on the job.”
Of course, the executive were riveted.
“Kinky? Cuffs?” Flash asked. “God, yes! I forgot. She was wearing a spiked collar, right?”
“She’s Lacy Desire, an adult model,” Kraken was openly letching.
“Queen of kink!” Flash was laughing. “Fuck me. I didn’t recognize her without her cuffs and ball gag. She’s famous.”
“Is she blackmailing you into doing her?” Kraken grinned.
Unexpectedly, a flash of shame shot through me, but I didn’t let it show. “She’s got some arsehole photographer after her because she backed out of a shoot. She wants me to fix it.”
“Should be simple enough,” Kraken shrugged.
“He’s hooked up with some heavies,” Crush continued. “Best find out who, first.”
“It won’t be a problem.” Oh lord, the arrogance of it! I had no idea what I was getting into.
> “Know your enemy and know yourself -” Crush started.
“- and you can fight a hundred battles without disaster,” we chorused.
“I guess I’ve mentioned that before,” Crush grinned.
“As if we could’ve missed you and Caden endlessly quoting the Art of War,” I sighed. But I knew he was right. “If I can’t get the photographer on the phone today, I’ll go and see him - with support, okay?”
“Take Fred and Drew,” Crush ordered. “Now, about the Horde, it looks as if they’re making a push to invade. We’d better put the lid on that.”
“They’re straightforward types,” DT sighed. “Brutal, straightforward and not too smart.”
“About the same membership size as us but not as well funded,” Crush mused.
That was my province. Although DT is an accountant, it’s me who manages the revenue stream. I come from a long line of robber barons, so it’s in the blood. “Actually, they’re doing quite well,” I corrected him. “They’ve been expanding into bootleg films, music, and software.”
“And weed, bouncing powder and more,” Crush pointed out.
“We should put them down fast before they get too big.” Flash isn’t daft.
“Or we should go and parley. The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” Crush, of course.
“We have had a truce for a while now,” Kraken pointed out.
“And they used it to marshal their forces and build up their war chest.” That was my inner robber baron coming out. “I bet that they’ll refuse a truce because they want to expand their territory.”
“Well, we’ve lots of money, and so there’s bound to be bandits hoping to get lucky,” Crush said philosophically. “Either way, we’ll settle them.”
“Coldplay go on at ten tonight.”
“We’ll be back well before that.”
After they trooped off, I ignored my pounding hangover and Googled Jason Barrows. It didn’t take me long to find his website, and for a moment I was mesmerised.
Lacy was splashed all over his landing page. She was nude, suspended in a web of ropes. Her arms were twisted behind her back, and her body was arched, and yet, it wasn’t clear if she were in pain or flying free. It was terrifyingly beautiful.
When I finally pulled myself away, I found nothing on Barrows beyond an email address. Magazines talked about his work, not the man.
Frustrated, I used my back door entry into the Police National Computer database to run a basic background check. Seeing the results, I wasn’t too happy. He had no criminal record but over a dozen arrests for grievous bodily harm, blackmail, and intimidation. It never came to convictions because witnesses recanted or disappeared. I knew the pattern; this was a dangerous bastard.
As for Lacy, Googling her was revealing - and I do mean that literally. Her website and Twitter feed were so hot that I thought my phone would go up in flames. After drooling over her photo gallery, I read my way through an illustrated blog post Rope Slut 101, panted over My Spanking Good Weekend, and picked up on why she was carrying her kit with Know Your Rude Ropes.
Then, with a hard-on rivalling Big Ben, I got back to business. Checking Lacy’s record, I found she had an outstanding warrant for theft, a complaint filed by Barrows, and a series of cautions for soliciting, public indecency and public drunkenness. There was also some kid stuff, shoplifting in supermarkets. A note in her police file mentioned her mother died in childbirth and her father having more form than a Derby winner.
Looking at her record, knowing she must have had a rough time growing up, I was on the point of feeling for her. My childhood was amazing, a fantastic home with loving parents, a big brother who was always there for me, and everything my heart desired. Even though it had come crashing down on me, I still treasured those days and I felt for anyone who hadn’t had my luck.
That fleeting compassion died a death when she walked in. “You fixed Jason yet?”
“No.” I didn’t want her to see I had access to the criminal records database, so I quickly closed that tab. Unfortunately, it threw up my previous search.
Gazing at herself posing for My Spanking Good Weekend, Lacy drawled, “All play and no work makes Jack a toy boy.”
“Oh, shut up.”
We might have gone at it, but Mitch pitched up with Brianne in tow. “Good morning!” Mitch is cheery before his first coffee, a dreadful character flaw as far as I’m concerned. “Drew and Fred are on their way.”
Drew and Fred went into security because they value a steady pay check but scratch lightly under their respectable bouncer exteriors, and you’d find they’re lawless at heart. They grew up in Bonnington and were Disciples by the time they hit fifteen.
They never attended event post-mortems, sales analysis is not part of their portfolio, and so I knew there’d been trouble at Perdition. I also knew they wouldn’t talk in front of Brianne or Lacy. I would have to wait.
Mitch put his phone in front of me with a flourish. “We didn’t meet our targets,” he said solemnly, and then, with a grin that stretched to London, “We blasted through them and netted an extra twenty thou!”
“Jesus, what did you do? Sell the house?”
“Beer sales were massive,” Mitch exulted. “Adding vegan and vegetarian stalls was also a surprisingly popular move.”
“Really?” I had invited two suppliers as the national trends indicated it would be mega, but in my heart, I’d had my doubts. Offer bikers ribs, sausages, chip butties, basically a heart attack slathered in fat, and they’re all over it. However, they tend to have a fundamental distrust of healthy food. “Real men eat salad?”
“Nah,” Mitch laughed. “But their dates do.”
“Excellent!”
“The girls went wild for it, especially this morning when they offered a breakfast special of organic fruit juice and chocolate waffles,” Mitch enthused. “I told them to double output for the Bonnington Music Fest.”
“Excellent.” Then, noticing Brianne looking a little left out, I included her. “Any input?”
She shook her head, “No, I’m just watching and learning.”
“Brianne did an excellent job.” Mitch is a firm believer in empowering staff with encouragement. “We’re going to start silver service training on Tuesday.”
Lacy was inspecting the girl with open interest. “That’s waitressing, right? It’s a nice, steady job.”
It was a casual remark, but Brianne took it as a put-down and stiffened. “I think so.” That would have been okay, but then she added cattily, “But I suppose you think it’s too much like hard work.”
“I’ve done a bit of hostessing,” Lacy said brightly. “Topless work for a gentlemen’s club in the West End.”
Of course, Brianne decided she was just another slapper. “How fascinating,” her tone was icily polite. “Seeing it’s getting on for lunchtime, want me to call you a taxi?”
“No thanks,” Lacy replied with exquisite politeness. Then, with narrowed eyes and a sugar sweet smile, she added. “I’m staying.”
“A second night?” Brianne snapped back. “What, are you offering a two-for-one?”
Forestalling World War III, Mitch hastily handed her the storeroom keys. “Do me a favour, love, and do a quick count? I have the feeling we need to order more Chablis.”
Recollecting she was staff, and mouthing off about the boss’ choice in sleeping partner, Brianne went beetroot red. She took the keys and forced a friendly professional smile. “Sure thing!”
The second she buzzed off, I thought Lacy might throw a hissy fit, but she just shrugged. “That didn’t go well. Is she one of your squeezes, Rex?”
“No.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, and I knew Mitch, Drew, and Fred were wondering who she was. Only the executive had been in the courtyard the night before, and they’d know not to gossip.
I was resigning myself to having to pretend Lacy was a girlfriend when Fred exclaimed, “Hey, aren’t you Lacy Desi
re?”
“I knew you looked familiar.” Drew was on it as well. “We have one of your posters in our club.”
“Oooh, I hope you don’t chuck darts at it,” Lacy rallied instantly.
“No way!”
“We’re huge fans.”
Mitch looked blank. He can recognize fine cognac and truffles at sixty paces but dangle hot totty in front of him, and he’s Mr. Magoo. But he smiled, “Rex is a lucky man.”
As the other two knew nothing of the circumstances, they agreed - and loudly.
“Love your work.”
“We drool over your Twitter feed.”
“You do? How sweet!” Lacy flirted away. “I’m staying for the day. I don’t know anyone, but with you here, I’m going to have a blast.”
“You should dump Rex and date me,” Fred said seriously. “He’s just sexy, successful and rich. I’d be really, really grateful.”
As Lacy giggled, Drew lowered his voice, “Rex, a word? In private?”
To my surprise, Lacy took the hint. “I’m parched, okay? You can gossip while I put the kettle on.”
The kitchen is from the time of the Tudors, which means it’s the size of a ballroom. The outer reaches are a bit gloomy because my ancestors felt servants don’t need windows, but we have a cast iron range that’s a medieval marvel. It blasts out heat, but it also roars, crackles and bangs. In other words, she’d be ten feet away and not hear a word. Perfect.
As Lacy messed about with the kettle and tried to work out which hot plate to stick it on, Drew was filling me in. “We had some trouble last night.”
“Tell me.”
“Three unauthorized dealers,” Fred said. “Sent in by the Horde.”
“We were expecting that.”
“But they snuck in as Disciples pledges,” Drew frowned.
“What the fuck? Who brought them in?”
“The Grimsby chapter,” Drew said.
“We spotted them, but frankly, we were lucky,” Fred sighed. “Drew recognized one of them.”