Bad Road to Nowhere

by Linda Ladd

  Mariah

  When Mariah Murray walked into the Triangle Club for the first time, she was more than wary about what was about to go down. Jeff Mason was with her. Phil Carson was outside, armed and watching and waiting for trouble. Novak was already there. They’d spotted the Ram truck outside. He was going to be livid when he got a glimpse of her. And Will Novak’s livid was not a sight anybody ever wanted to see. She had dressed the part and looked as slutty as she could possibly make herself. The black kid at the door had searched them, taking liberties under her skimpy top. She had to cozy up to him a bit to get admittance, but now they were inside.

  They found a table and sat down together. Mariah located Novak where he sat at a table across the room and in the back. He had his back against the wall. He didn’t show any surprise when he first laid eyes on her, just glanced away and ignored her presence. He wasn’t her problem at the moment. She wanted a job in this place, as unsavory as that would be, and she had to get it in a hurry. Searching the tables, it didn’t take her long to find the guy in charge. He was sitting at the bar by himself. Everybody else was giving him a wide berth. Everybody else was watching him. He was the one, all right, and he was the one whom she needed to talk to.

  She got up and walked up to the bar, where her target was still leaning back against it and watching the customers. Once he noticed her, he looked her up and down in a crude manner. Mariah smiled at him, leaned in close, while she ordered two beers. Then she looked straight at him. He was still scorching her body with his small black eyes. He looked like a biker, but something seemed off with that. Well, good. He liked her already. And if Emma was associated with this sleazy bar, she was going to find out why. When she looked back at the biker, he wasn’t ogling her anymore. He was ogling Will Novak. So Novak had already gotten himself onto this guy’s radar.

  “You the boss around here?” she asked him.

  “That’s right, doll.” He had a thick Southern accent. Mariah was trying to disguise her Australian one. She had tried to do that before without much luck. But he hadn’t noticed it yet.

  “I’m looking for a job out here. I’ve got experience working in this kind of place. How about giving me a chance? I’m good at it.”

  “Yeah, I can see that by that cute little top you got on. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Mariah Murray. What’s yours?”

  “Mr. Boyer to you.” He searched her face and she made sure he didn’t see anything she didn’t want him to see. “What kind of job you lookin’ for, Mariah? You do any stripping?”

  Mariah took another swig of the beer. “Whatever you need. I’d rather start out as a waitress and work up to that, but I figure you’ll tell me what to do.”

  The whole time she was speaking, Boyer kept his eyes exclusively on Novak. He was very interested in what he was doing. Novak was ignoring him.

  “You good at turning men on?”

  Mariah laughed a little. “What do you think?”

  Boyer gave her a slow grin. “You think you can get to that guy over there in the corner? The big guy? See him? The one in the black jacket. Think you can get him to go back behind that curtain with you?”

  Mariah glanced behind them at the blue curtain that he was indicating. It was hanging on a rod across a door located behind the bar. It was probably where the girls took men for more pricey favors, the ones that required privacy. Then she looked back at Novak. Now he was staring right back at her. The look on his face made her want to shiver. He was not happy. She shifted her gaze back to Mason. He was watching her, too. Then she picked up the beer bottle, took a slow drink, and tried to appear as relaxed as a cat in the sun. She wished she was, but inside she was tied up with nerves.

  She looked at Boyer. She laughed. “That guy? No problem.”

  “You might feel differently after you meet him.”

  Well, that was the understatement of the year. Mariah kept her attention on Novak, wondering how much this guy knew about Novak and about Mariah’s association with him. She could not take a chance on lying, not yet, and not considering the keen interest the biker was showing in Novak. She used the story that she and Novak had agreed upon while driving north. “I already know him. A little bit. He picked me up when I was hitchhiking, right outside Montgomery. We hit it off pretty good for a while. He’s easy enough to convince. Trust me on that.”

  “Well, now, that’s interestin’. Wouldn’t have thought that. He appears the unfriendly sort.” Boyer grinned some more. “Okay, why don’t you go over there, give him a sexy lap dance, and then bring him back through that blue curtain. You do that, you got a job here. Doin’ anything you want to.”

  “No problem.”

  But it was a problem. One hell of a big problem. Novak was not going to cooperate. But he was just going to have to see reason this time and play along. But he only saw reason when he wanted to see it, and he usually didn’t, not with her. She slid off the bar stool and wended her way through the tables toward him. This time she was going to have to force the issue, whether he liked it or not. And he sure as hell wouldn’t like it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Novak had not been expecting Mariah to show up. Not inside the Triangle Club. He had been expecting the big boss to show up, flanked by half a dozen or more paid henchmen to let Novak know why nobody ever turned down his invitation to come meet him. But it sure as hell wasn’t the boss who had walked through that door fifteen minutes ago, dressed like a prostitute.

  Mariah wasn’t wearing much more at the moment than the girls performing on the runway poles. Very tight white tank top without a bra and a good amount of noticeable cleavage, short black skirt, very short, black hooker heels, the whole works. Damn her. Novak cast down his eyes and pretended not to notice her or what she was doing. But he was the only one who didn’t notice what she was doing. She might very well be older than the other women working in the place, but she was the most beautiful. By far. Not as beautiful as Sarah had been. Sarah hadn’t had to work at it, not the way Mariah did. On the other hand, Mariah was a woman any man would notice. A woman who made it hard for a man to drag his eyes off her. Especially dressed in that provocative little outfit. Anger began to rise up inside him again, fast and hard to control. What the hell was she trying to do? And who was the guy with her? The guy she’d picked up at the bar?

  Mariah had glanced around the room first off, seen him at the back, pretty much ignored him after that, as if she had never laid eyes on him. Thank God she had that much sense. Then she had sought out Novak’s new friend, Sandy, where he had been sitting on a stool, leaning back with both elbows on the bar and staring a hole through Novak. At least he had been until Mariah had walked in. Sandy had given her a lot of attention, just like all the other men.

  Then Mariah had gotten up and left the guy with her, whoever the hell he was, and joined Boyer at the bar. Novak had watched her sit down on the stool beside him, press her back up against the bar, cross her long bare legs, and look damn sexy doing it. She was about to mess up Novak’s plans big time, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Not now. He muttered a few choice curses to himself and watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was talking to Sandy, smiling at him, leaning close, flirting, and the guy was responding, interested, attentive, hanging on her every word. He was also watching Novak and not shy about Novak noticing it.

  After they talked together for a while, Mariah left the bar and mingled with the other customers. Novak watched her work the tables, trailing her fingers across one man’s chest, stroking another customer’s cheek, parading herself for all to see. It was making Novak damn uncomfortable. God, he’d been right about her. This was the Mariah he remembered. The Mariah who constantly came on to him even after he had married her sister, the Mariah who picked up strange men whenever and wherever she could find them, the Mariah who hurt Sarah over and over again with reckless behavior and hateful talk. When she finally worked her way back to his table, she leaned down very close a
nd put her lips on his ear. She pressed a wet kiss there and started whispering instructions.

  “Sandy, that guy over there at the bar, the one dressed like a biker? He told me I could have a job here, if I came back here and gave you a lap dance. So, lucky you, Novak. Try to pretend that you like it.”

  “Find somebody else.”

  “If I work here, I’ll have an in on this place and to the other girls. Think about that. That’s exactly what we need right now. I can get them to talk to me. I can get him to talk to me. I’ve done this before. I’m good at it.”

  Novak didn’t doubt that. “Like I just said, find somebody else.”

  Mariah suddenly turned and straddled his lap before he could stop her. She slid both arms around his neck. Novak set his teeth. “Get off me. I mean it, Mariah.”

  “Just grit your teeth some more and take it like a man,” she whispered, leaning up against him and rubbing her breasts against his chest. It occurred to Novak that she’d sure as hell had a lot of practice doing lap dances. She fit right in with the girls working this place, all right.

  “C’mon, Will. Try to look like you’re enjoying it.”

  “I’m not enjoying it. You do know what these girls working here do for a living, right, Mariah? Are you actually ready to prostitute yourself to get a story?”

  “No, I won’t be here long enough for that to happen. But I can talk to the girls tonight. See what’s going down around here. See if any of them know anything about Emma. You’ll thank me in the morning. Now look turned on.”

  “I’m not turned on. I’m just disgusted. Who’s that guy you’re with?”

  “That’s Sam, the guy I met in the bar. He was good enough to bring me up here, since you wouldn’t. Now you need to loosen up, live a little. You look like you’re going to kill me with your bare hands.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Okay, forget that. Just stand up and let me take you through those curtains that lead into the back. That’ll get me the job. You don’t have to touch me anymore after that.”

  Novak pushed her off his lap, stood up, and followed her across the room and through the blue curtains. He wasn’t doing it for her. He wanted to know who was back there besides the girls and their johns and if the big boss had an office in there. He ducked through the curtain and found out real quick what was back there. There were four guys back there. With four big guns. Springfield XDs. Nine millimeter. And they were pointing them at Novak. His new friend, Sandy, walked in right behind him and jerked Novak’s gun out of his back waistband. He handed it to one of the other men.

  “Thanks, honey,” Sandy said to Mariah. “You’re hired. Get out there and make me some money.”

  Novak didn’t waste time worrying about Mariah’s betrayal. He didn’t know if she planned his takedown, got him back there on purpose, or not. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had. He’d been expecting her to pull something on him, sooner or later. So he just stood still, said nothing, and waited for their next move. He could probably handle them, if he was lucky, but he was more curious about what they had in mind.

  Sandy came overand got up close in his face. Trying to act tough again. Silver chains jingling. He was pathetic. “I told you the boss wanted to talk to you. You don’t get to say no. So we’re gonna have to do this the hard way. Time to take a little ride with Joe and Mike here.”

  Novak said nothing, estimating how fast he could take their weapons and turn them back on them. On the other hand, his goal had always been to meet their boss face-to-face. But meet him on his own terms, not summoned like some lackey. Novak wanted to know where their boss was and what he wanted and who the hell he was. But he couldn’t act too eager. So he stood there, wary and ready, not moving an inch, but muscles loose and ready to strike. The guy on his right, the one with Novak’s .45, jabbed him in the back with Novak’s own gun barrel. Novak allowed him that. He’d get his weapon back soon enough.

  Then he moved as they directed him, through a back hallway lined with six closed doors and out through the steel back door. Looked like Biker Sandy was staying behind. So were two of the four guys. Two against one. Even better. The door shut behind his two new friends, Joe and Mike. Novak heard a slide bolt scrape back into place. Then a second one. He was pushed at gunpoint to a black Jeep Cherokee and prodded to get into the backseat and move across until he sat behind the passenger seat. One guy got in and sat beside him in the back, his nine mil pointed at Novak’s head. The other guy walked around and got into the driver’s seat.

  The driver said, “Keep that gun pointed right there where you’ve got it, Joey.”

  “So? Where are we going?” Novak inquired politely.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Mike the driver.

  Novak wasn’t worried about it. He wouldn’t be in the car with them long enough to be worried. At least, not while they were still conscious. They were hoods who traveled in pairs to do their dirty work. Only cowards needed a backup to escort one unarmed guy. All he had to do now was to wait for the right moment.

  Mike started up the Jeep, backed out, his tires making lots of crunching sounds in the gravel, and drove around to the front of the club. The parking lot was still full. No one was outside; all getting their jollies inside, one way or another. Mostly another. Joe was the bigger of the two guys and the one who sat beside Novak in the backseat. He was turned in the seat toward Novak, facing him, his back against the window. They both appeared calm enough and in good control and sure of themselves. The guy named Mike seemed maybe a little jittery; the one holding the gun on Novak, not so much. It didn’t matter to Novak.

  Nothing else was said as they drove down the bumpy dirt road and hit the highway. They turned back to the right, away from Sikeston. Going north. Novak sat very still, wanting to know where they were taking him and who had given the order. He considered briefly going along with them, but then decided that wouldn’t be prudent. Not until he knew this outfit a little better. So he looked straight ahead at the road, waiting. He had learned a long time ago to wait for the right moment, and it had served him well and most of the time.

  When they reached the next wide curve in the highway, one off to their right with wide graveled shoulders, he exploded up out of the seat, turned, knocked the guy’s gun hand up with his left arm, and then hit the guy with a quick right jab in the nose, giving the punch everything he had. The gun went off, deafening all of them, and grazing the driver’s head just above his right ear. He grabbed his temple, swerving all over the place as Novak went after the guy beside him again, hitting him with another devastating punch to his left temple. Joe collapsed against the door and didn’t move, and Novak took his gun away as the Jeep careened toward the opposite shoulder. He lunged over the seat and got Mike in a stranglehold, pressing his forearm hard against his throat. The guy slammed on the brakes, and Novak hung on as the Jeep screeched to an abrupt halt right in the middle of the road. Both of them were thrown forward, but Novak continued the pressure, cutting off the driver’s air until he went limp.

  Novak left Mike to slump forward against the steering wheel, unconscious, and then reached forward and jerked the transmission lever into park. He got his gun back from the guy still gasping for breath on the backseat and clubbed him hard on the forehead with it. Joe stopped groaning and lay still. Novak got out, checked their pulses, pushed Mike over into the passenger seat and left Joe sprawled across the backseat. They were still breathing, at least for now. Neither one would probably die.

  Novak disarmed them, stuck their weapons in his waistband, got back into the SUV, and hung a big U-turn in the middle of the deserted road. He pressed the accelerator to the floor and drove hard back to the club. Once there, he pulled up at the front porch, got out, pulled both guys out of the Jeep, and left them together in a heap at the bottom of the steps. The big black basketball bouncer just watched without saying a word. Novak looked up at him, waiting to see if he wanted to try to take him on, but the guy just stood there and did nothing. />
  Novak left the Jeep sitting there, still running, and headed across the lot to his truck. There was a guy standing near it, dressed all in black. Customer? Or one of Sandy’s men? Novak stopped at a standstill about ten yards from him and watched him, ready to take him down, too. Novak was releasing a lot of pent-up energy and anger, and he hoped the guy would try his hand. But the guy in black just faded into the shadows and disappeared behind a line of cars. Novak listened a moment, and then got back into his truck and headed for the Avalon.

  But it wasn’t over, no way was it over, not by a long shot. Now Novak was pissed. He was going to find out who they were and then he was going to smash up their little band of tough guys. But first, he was going to deal with Mariah. She was going home. Bound and gagged, if that’s what it took.

  Mariah

  Twenty minutes after Novak had been walked out the back door with two armed guards, Sandy showed up and crashed through the front door. Everything inside the club stopped. His face was flushed dark with rage. There had been some kind of altercation out front. Sandy and several of his men had rushed outside earlier to deal with it. Mariah wasn’t sure what had happened yet, but it probably wasn’t anything good. And it probably concerned Will Novak.

  Sandy Boyer looked around, found Mariah, and headed straight for her. He grabbed her in a painful grip, his fingernails digging deep into her arm. She went along because she was on her own now. She’d instructed Mason to follow Novak because Sandy had disarmed him and he was headed for trouble. Sandy meant business; he was leaving bruises on her upper arm. She tried once to jerk out of his grasp but he was too strong. Mariah stopped resisting, and he dragged her through the blue curtains and down the back hallway. She assessed the situation quickly, and she knew it would be best to act cowed and afraid. Which wasn’t all that hard.