by CM Genovese
Smack. Black Mask reached over the counter and slammed the barrel of his shotgun against her cheek. Carla went down with an “Umph.”
“Motherfucker!” I snapped and started toward Black Mask when all of the robbers straightened up, their weapons focused on me.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Black Mask warned.
“And you didn’t want to go to the club because there was too much noise and drama,” Rain whispered.
“I just wanted my whiskey and Coke… maybe with some warm peach cobbler,” I reminded him. “Instead, I get this bullshit.”
Carla stood up from where she’d been leaning against the register. She already had a welt growing under her eye.
“You motherfuckers might wanna go get back on your bikes and cruise the fuck away from here,” Red Mask warned.
“We ain’t leaving you alone with Carla,” Rain muttered.
Green Mask walked toward Rain and held his pistol close to his neck. “You got a fuckin’ problem, tough guy?”
“They haven’t heard about the curse,” I said.
“Fuck you and your—” Green Mask started but was interrupted.
“What curse?” Blue Mask asked.
I chuckled. “You want to tell ‘em?”
Rain shook his head.
“Fine,” I said, “I’ll tell ‘em. They say there’s a curse around here. Anybody who tries to rob this place comes to an untimely demise.”
“Untimely demise, huh?” Black Mask asked as he turned to point his gun at Carla. As the barrel passed the counter on its way to the cash register, Black Mask’s elbow bumped the glass bowl full of peppermint candies.
The bowl toppled over, candies went flying, and the glass bowl shattered on the ground.
Black Mask, who was already nervous, jumped and accidentally pulled the trigger while trying to turn back toward the bikers. The barrel of the shotgun was pointed directly at Green Mask when it went off.
A hole punched right through Green Mask’s chest, blowing chunks of his flesh out the other side.
Black Mask panicked and dropped his gun.
Blue Mask stood in place with his hands at his sides. An agonizing groan started at a low volume from inside his mask but increased in pitch as his feet shuffled forward. It stopped, and it sounded like the man was hyperventilating. “Oh, my God,” he mumbled. “What the fuck?”
“It was an accident,” Black Mask said.
Blue Mask dropped to his knees beside the dead man, lowering his gun to the floor. A wail was caught in his throat. It was clear he was close to the man wearing the green mask. The man who was now bleeding out on the diner floor.
Nobody’s eyes were on us. Rain glanced at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. If we were going to make a move, now was the time. Yet, neither of us did. It was too risky. If one of the guys got spooked, he might pull the trigger in Carla’s direction. We couldn’t let that happen. I shook my head “no” to make sure Rain didn’t act.
It was Rain who noticed the guy’s tattoo. He nodded at the man in the Blue Mask, the one mourning the death of his friend, and I followed his line of sight. I didn’t get it at first, so Rain slowly reached over with the fingers of his left hand and touched his right wrist. I looked down at the man on the floor again and there it was. Bright as fucking day. A tattoo I remembered from the night I killed two men with a hammer.
“Help me get him,” Blue Mask said to Red Mask, but Red Mask wouldn’t budge. “Please. He’s my brother. I can’t leave him here.”
Red Mask finally nodded. Blue Mask grabbed hold of the dead man’s wrists and Red Mask took his ankles.
“Keep your gun on these fucks,” Red Mask yelled at Black Mask. “Don’t fuckin’ shoot anybody else unless you have to. You, bitch behind the counter, give him the cash out of the register.”
Carla didn’t argue. She reached into the register and fished out every bill. She handed it over to Black Mask. For no reason at all, Black Mask whipped his shotgun over the counter and nailed Carla in the face again.
My voice flew from my throat before I could even think straight. “Hey, you fuck!”
With his itchy trigger finger, I should have been more careful, but I couldn’t stand seeing an innocent woman, especially one as kind as Carla, get hurt for no reason at all.
Black Mask wheeled around and pointed his gun at me.
“You shoot me,” I warned him, “and it won’t be an old Irish curse you have to worry about. Every Royal Bastard in Anchorage will rip you, your gang, and your family apart.”
Black Mask laughed. His voice came out cold and with no semblance of remorse or care in the world that he’d just killed a man. “We will see about that.”
He was going to pull the trigger, but Carla pulled hers first. Nobody had even noticed her duck down behind the counter to wherever they kept a pistol, but Black Mask now stood with his back arched and a puddle spreading across his chest. He hit his knees, and this time when he pulled the trigger, it was more out of confusion. That or a twitching of his finger, but the blast hit the ceiling.
Carla stood with her pistol still pointed and watched as I yanked the gun out of Black Mask’s hand. It was like I’d given him permission to collapse because as soon as I relieved him of his weapon, the man fell onto his chest and sputtered there beneath his mask like a car running out of gas. He spit out the remainder of his life and with that mask pulled over him, nobody got to see his final, desperate expressions. His soul would soon be gone to wherever it deserved to flee.
“I’ll get the ones outside,” Rain whispered as he turned toward the door.
The pistol shook in Carla’s hands until I walked over and carefully took it from her. Our eyes locked and it hit me, not for the first time, that she was a beautiful lady. I’d often joked about hooking up with her, but all joking aside, she was pretty. Her blonde hair was up in a disheveled bun, her cool granite grey eyes stared back at me, and her bottom lip trembled. She looked like she might pass out if she didn’t sit down soon. The welts on her cheek and at the corner of her left eye were going to hurt like hell tomorrow.
I smiled at her to help relieve the tension.
“You ever shot anybody before?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“You did good,” I told her. “You saved our lives.”
Her eyes welled up with tears. Killing a man for the first time is tough. The night I went berserk on the Samoans, I sat in the dark shadows beside that dumpster and wept. Not only for Holly, but for the fact that I knew my innocence was gone. Even if I never served a day in prison for it, I was a killer, and that would never change. Carla would suffer some rough nights because of this. She’d probably see a therapist.
Rain returned from outside and whispered, “The other two drove away with their buddy.”
“What is Pani Popo?” I asked. I don’t know why it had been bothering me so much not knowing what it was. One of the guys had compared the bread pudding to Pani Popo.
“It’s a dessert,” Carla said, holding her hand over the spot on her cheek where she’d been hit.
“Samoan,” I said. “It’s a Samoan dessert.”
Carla nodded.
“PSK,” I replied. “The one with the blue mask had their tattoo.”
“PSK?” she asked, unfamiliar with the initials.
“Psycho Samoan Klan,” I informed her. “Not a great group to get tangled up with.”
“Not this one,” came Rain’s raspy tone.
He was crouched down next to the dead man. He’d removed the black mask. Under it was the face of a white man with tattoos that reached up from his jacket collar and onto his neck.
“Russian,” Rain said.
“Russian,” I said softly. “What the fuck are the Samoans and the Russians doing together?”
I threw both hands to my hair and massaged my scalp. Anxiety threatened to make me come apart in front of everybody.
“You two okay?” Carla asked. She’d set her bag of ice o
nto the counter.
Even after all she’d been through, she was concerned about others. This was a good woman. She should have never been through anything like this.
“We’re fine,” Rain said. “You look a bit shaken up though.”
She took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m okay. I don’t understand though. Why would Samoans and Russians want to rob my diner?”
“Your diner?” I asked.
“My diner. Callum, Paddy’s grandson, is leaving it to me in his will.”
3
Carla owned Paddy’s? Rain and I had been stopping by the diner for burgers and drinks for years. It was our quiet place when we wanted to get away from the wild parties at the MC, the old vets at Cubby’s VFW joint, and all the young punks at the local bars and nightclubs. Sometimes you just want a fucking burger and some peace and quiet. Paddy’s was that place. Yet, we’d never known Carla was the owner. It made sense now that she’d stick around all the time. Not only was she the owner, she’d blown a fucking hole in the back of one of the Russians.
I wasn’t crying over any Russki blood, but I was concerned for her safety. If this wasn’t just some group of reckless thugs looking to score some extra weed money, then this could get nasty.
And if they’re related to anybody important…
Oddly, we hadn’t heard much from the Russians since those pieces of shit tried to run a human trafficking ring right in our backyard and we’d had to shut them down.
The best part about us having nothing to do with the body on the ground was the cops could actually come in and do their damn jobs without us having to get our hands dirty. In fact, Rain and I sat in the back of the diner and had a drink while the boys in blue did whatever it was they did.
“What do you think?” Rain asked as we sat and watched the cops talk to Carla.
They’d already asked us a few questions and wanted us to stick around a bit longer in case they had more. They would have more. There wasn’t any way in hell two bikers, especially two Royal Bastards, could get out of this situation without some serious questioning.
“This ain’t good, brother,” I replied, taking a sip from my Coke can. Next to it sat my whiskey glass. I liked them side by side like that, never mixed. “If the Samoans and Russians are hanging out together, that means shit’s getting really local. Ain’t just women getting snatched up and moved around. It’s gotta be drugs or guns. Either way, BP ain’t gonna like it.”
“Fuckin’ Russians,” Rain said. “Maybe this was just some video-game-playin’ assholes that couldn’t pay their WiFi bill.”
I hoped he was right about that WiFi bill, but I knew he wasn’t. This might have been some random stickup, but I had a sick feeling in my gut that this was going to turn into something bigger. The Royal Bastards had no stock in this diner. Paddy’s had been around for a long time and was a respected establishment, but we weren’t on their payroll, so unless it was something that really got under BP’s skin, we wouldn’t be getting involved.
Carla sat in the booth nearest the door. The body was already being carried out in a bag and it seemed the cops were done with the scene, so I made my way over to her.
“You mind if I join you?” I asked, startling her by accident. She flinched and then chuckled as she put a hand to her temple.
“Sorry. I guess I’m a bit shaken up.”
“You have every right to be jumpy.”
“Thank you for staying.”
“I’m surprised the cops didn’t have more questions for us.”
“Why’s that?” she asked. “You told them what you saw.”
I had to laugh at that. She knew who Rain and I were. She’d been serving us dinner and drinks for a long time. If she knew anything about the Royal Bastards MC, she’d know we always seemed to get wrapped up in trouble.
Shaking my kutte, the black leather vest I wore with my patches and colors, I said, “One-percenters seem to get caught up in the shit. This time it was somebody else’s shit, but of course, we were right there in the thick of it.”
She lifted her cup of coffee with both hands. Her fingernails, which appeared to have been polished recently, were chipped and seemed to have been chewed on. She was a nervous-fucking wreck right now. This one was strong though. She didn’t sob the way a lot of others would following a situation like this.
“One-percenters?” she asked.
Her glass shook in her hands, so I reached across the table and placed my fingertips over her knuckles. The trembling seemed to die down. She smiled and breathed deeply. Her eyes settled on mine and remained there a second before she shifted her gaze down to the table. I’d caught her checking me out before, so I was pretty sure she was into me.
She smiled and let me keep my hands over hers. When she lowered her forehead to our joined hands and rested her head there, I wondered if she was only thankful for the gesture and my attempt to calm her down or if she was hoping I’d take her home.
“I’ll let you Google it,” I told her, not wanting to ruin the conversation by telling her how bad of a guy society considered me to be.
“Google what?”
It seemed she’d already forgotten her question.
“One-percenters,” I reminded her.
“Sorry… again… shaken up.” She smiled. “Too difficult to explain?”
“Too unsavory,” I replied.
“You’re gang members,” she said.
“Motorcycle club,” I corrected her. “The un-fuck-with-able. Let’s just say that.”
“You didn’t seem scared at all. I was terrified, but you and… Rain… you two could have been talking to a hostess waiting to seat you instead of robbers in ski masks with guns.”
“It’s not the men in masks who scare me,” I informed her.
“I don’t suppose much scares you.”
She didn’t know a thing about me. If she did, she’d know she was wrong. None of my brothers knew the truth. BP knew some of it since he’d been the one to rescue me the night of Holly’s murder, but the other guys only knew I’d killed a couple of thugs.
The truth was, I’d felt evil that night. It was there on that street. In the black car. That was the only time in my life I’d felt real fear. That wasn’t a man in a mask. But I couldn’t tell this woman about supernatural shit I’d seen years ago.
“When a man puts a gun to your head and he’s not wearing a mask,” I said, “that’s when you might want to worry.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her fingers wiggled beneath mine and she lifted her cup, my cue to let go so she could take a sip. Her grey eyes looked wiser than any I’d ever lingered on before, and I found myself fixated on them. Her blonde hair kept falling in front of them and rather than push the strands away from her eyes with her hand, she continuously blew them away. Watching her lips purse like that had me fidgeting in my seat.
This was never anything I would admit out loud, but in a strange way, there was a motherly quality about her. A sense of peace, like she wanted nothing from me I wouldn’t be willing to give. She expected nothing. Her face was wrinkled in pleasant ways, leftovers from so much laughter, so many smiles, and surely some pain. She’d lost a husband at one point. I vaguely remembered her mentioning he’d had a heart attack a decade ago.
I bet she’d been single ever since. Without knowing much about her, I knew she was the loyal type. She probably still felt connected to the man she’d once shared vows with.
‘Til death do we part.
With this one, death wasn’t the end. She was beautiful, so I didn’t doubt she’d fallen into bed with someone since then, but she would be the kind of woman to call off any potential relationship out of fear she’d be dishonoring her husband.
She took another drink and the way her lips parted slightly to accept the cup between them made my cock stir. I wanted her. Not the way a man wanted a stripper or one of those chicks at the nightclub with the mini-skirt that barely covered her shaved twat. That was a burni
ng desire to fuck. That was all it was with chicks like that. A fuck. A dirty, nasty, bent over the clubhouse pool table fuck.
Then there was the relationship kind of love making. The raw and real sex that was sometimes pure, hard fucking and other times soft and slow.
Carla would be somewhere in-between. I imagined she’d be quite needy after all this time, but I could also see her being very in tune to her body and her lover’s.
“Look, I’ma say somethin’ that might come across as crass,” I warned her.
“Crass,” she repeated as if she had never heard the word before.
“Tactless,” I told her. “Insensitive maybe.”
She laughed. “I know what the word means. I just haven’t heard anyone use it in a long time.”
“Sorry, Ma’am,” I told her, “but I can’t leave here without saying you were braver than hell tonight, and I find that pretty damn sexy.”
“Sexy?” Her eyebrows lifted. A laugh threatened to burst forth from her and I wondered if she was making fun of me. “Pipe, you’ve been coming in here forever. I’ve been flirting my ass off and you’ve thrown a little bit of that back in my direction.”
“I have,” I admitted.
She leaned forward. Her nerves seemed to have melted away.
“You’re sweet,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Sweet? I’m not sure anyone’s ever called me that before.”
“What do they call you?”
“Dirty… filthy… take your pick.”
“I think there’s more to you than that,” she said before draining the rest of her cup. “You’ve just been left alone too long, left to screw around with too many trashy women. Somewhere out there is a woman who will tame you.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.” She leaned forward and lightly tapped my cheek with her fingers, a playful slap that left me somewhat stunned. My eyes were drawn to the front of her uniform where the V-neck, at this angle, showed more of her cleavage than I’d ever seen. The crease between her tits was soft and slightly wrinkled. This was a real woman, and again, my cock reacted to the sight.
“Baby,” I said, trying the word out on her. Usually I said it without a second thought.