Shooting Dirty

by Jill Sorenson

  Instead of voicing this fear, she smoked and stayed silent. His friends arrived, two on motorcycles and another driving her car.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, stubbing out her cigarette.

  “To say goodbye to Skye.”

  She searched his eyes and saw nothing. He’d put his game face on, and it was impenetrable. “I guess this is it.”

  He leaned in, touching his lips to her cheek. The gesture was polite and impartial, as if he had no feelings for her. As if he hadn’t used her body like his personal playground and practically demanded that she worship his cock. She fought the urge to sink her fist into his stomach. Instead she staggered him with the last weapon she had.

  “I love you,” she said.

  He straightened abruptly. She imagined the twist of her phantom blade, sharp and triumphant. He stared at her for a long moment, and his eyes weren’t flat or emotionless now. They blazed with something she couldn’t identify. Pain, perhaps.

  “I love you, too.”

  Janelle’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “I love you,” he said, seeming irritated by the complication. But brutally honest, as always.

  “You can’t love me. You hardly even have a heartbeat.”

  He smiled in wry agreement. “Somehow I managed to fall for you anyway.”

  She glanced at the men in the parking lot, who were waiting for them to finish their conversation. This was un-fucking-believable. She shouldn’t have confessed her feelings. She’d wanted him to know what he meant to her, and how much he was giving up. Her attempt to leave him shaken had backfired.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” she said, more to herself than to him.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll get over you.”

  “Yes, you will. You’re a cycle-breaker, just like I said.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “I’m a realist.”

  Her eyes flooded with tears, because she wasn’t a cycle-breaker. She wasn’t. She’d fallen in love with another criminal who’d used her up and left her in shattered pieces.

  “You’re better off without me,” he said, grasping her upper arms. “But if I had my choice, I’d never let you go. I’d hunt down my enemies and bleed the entire desert for you, and no one would ever come between us.”

  She wrenched her arms from his grasp and walked away, defiant. A man with a full beard and a Dirty Eleven vest was standing by her car. He gave her a look that said he’d be ribbing Ace about her chilly departure. She accepted her keys from Ace’s friend and got inside. Someone had filled up her gas tank. Her purse was in the passenger seat. She started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, fighting tears.

  Damn him. Damn her, for falling for him.

  She drove to her mother’s house in Niland. The two men on motorcycles followed her to make sure she got home safely. They pulled into the church parking lot across the street and stayed there to keep watch. Her mother was at a doctor’s appointment, and Jamie wouldn’t be out of school for another hour, so Janelle was all alone.

  Feeling numb, she nibbled on a toasted bagel and warmed up a cup of coffee. After she ate, she took a long shower, washing Ace’s smell from her skin. She felt deliciously sore. Her body was still humming from his touch. He’d used her hard, but she wanted more. She had a rough-sex hangover and there was only one cure.

  Unable to stop herself, she soaped her tender clit, stroking the sensitive nub. Although she longed for a sweet escape, she didn’t drift. She didn’t know if she could drift anymore. Lucidity was a double-edged sword, cutting too close to the heart of her.

  Tears burned her eyes as she rubbed herself harder, punishing her already-abused flesh. She cried out in pain or pleasure, leaning one hand against the shower wall. The climax left her shaking and empty. She curled up on the floor of the stall and wept.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, she got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She looked like she’d been on a two-day bender, so she applied makeup with a trembling hand. The doorbell rang as she finished.

  It was Tiffany.

  Janelle greeted her friend with a big hug, getting weepy again. Tiffany seemed a little choked up also. They sat side by side on the porch swing and waited for Jamie’s bus. The day was warm and bright, the sunshine too harsh for her tired eyes. Ace’s motorcycle friends were still across the street.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Tiffany asked.

  “I can’t.”

  “Did they rape you?”

  “No.”

  Tiffany’s shoulders relaxed at this news. “I roofied the guy who took you.”

  Janelle stared at her in surprise. “How?”

  She smiled, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “After Ace...questioned him, I stayed behind to make sure he didn’t call anyone. I found his drug stash, so I gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

  Janelle remembered the way the man in the skeleton mask had pressed his erection against her. The White Lightning members had been planning to rape her. If Ace hadn’t come to her rescue, they would have.

  Tiffany went on to tell her about Pigpen’s roommate, Rex. “He was different from the others. He was a gentleman.”

  “No one in White Lightning is a gentleman.”

  “He was.”

  “Are you high? Did you sample some pills, too?”

  Tiffany didn’t laugh at the joke. “Don’t judge me, J. Look at your boyfriend.”

  “Exactly. Look at him, and look at me, and then tell me it’s a good idea to date a motorcycle club member.”

  Tiffany studied Janelle’s face, reading the pain etched there. But she had her own pain to deal with, and it drove her to do reckless things. She turned her crystal-blue gaze to the church parking lot, her mouth thin. “He said I had a nice voice.”

  “You do,” Janelle said, putting her arm around Tiffany. Supporting her. “You sing like an angel.”

  “Why are men so shitty?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We’re awesome, and they suck.”

  “Yes.”

  They moped together and commiserated, rocking back and forth on the swing. Janelle was glad for Tiffany’s company and grateful for her help last night. Tiffany was a true friend and Janelle would always love her.

  When Jamie’s bus pulled up to the corner, Janelle walked down the block to greet him. Two boys and a girl hopped off. Her stomach sank when the doors closed and the bus surged forward again, releasing exhaust.

  Her son wasn’t there.

  * * *

  Ace had only one stop to make before he turned himself in.

  He went to King’s Castle to see Skye.

  Jigsaw dropped him off at the entrance. A handful of Dirty Eleven members waited for him outside. They would escort him to the police substation as soon as he was finished. It wouldn’t be cool if Ace got shot on the way.

  He approached the reception desk and requested a visit with Shawnee. One of Bill’s goons directed him into the elevator, where Ace submitted to a weapons search. He’d left his Colt with Jigsaw, so he was clean.

  After checking him over, the guard entered the security code for the penthouse suite. They ascended in silence. Ace exited the elevator and proceeded down the hall, steeling himself for a difficult talk with Skye.

  Shawnee opened the door to let him in. Her mouth was pursed with displeasure, as usual. She waved him inside with an impatient hand.

  He’d never been in their suite before. He preferred to keep his distance, and Shawnee didn’t want him in her personal space. It wasn’t the extravagant living quarters he’d expected. Instead of razzle-dazzle, the décor was minimalist. Sort of Japanese style, though he had only a faint idea what that meant.

  Shawnee w
asn’t her usual dolled-up self, either. She was wearing a tracksuit with no makeup and flip-flops. Maybe she’d just gone to the gym, or gotten a massage. Upon closer inspection, she appeared tense. Or sick.

  “Skye’s in her room, but Bill wants to see you first,” she said.

  Fuck.

  Ace didn’t have any choice, so he accompanied the guard to Bill’s office, resigned to one last visit with his nemesis. Bill had helped him last night, and Ace needed to consult with him anyway. Nothing Bill said would make a difference, though. Ace’s mind was set.

  He entered Bill’s office and took a seat across from him. Ace had never been here before, either. Bill wasn’t the type of man who invited his criminal associates into his home. He always conducted casino business downstairs.

  Bill didn’t ask about Janelle or Jester. Perhaps his sources had kept him notified. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, blunt as ever.

  “I’m getting out.”

  “You can’t get out.”

  “I’ll say I was working with Gonzo.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  Bill leaned forward, his eyes hard. “Don’t you dare fuck with me, you meth-freak loser.”

  Ace tensed at the insult, which was harsh and inaccurate. Courtney and Rylan had been the meth addicts, not him. He was an alcoholic, plain and simple. But he didn’t bother to defend himself against the charge. Courtney’s parents had always believed that Ace was the villain in their relationship. He certainly hadn’t been a saint.

  “The cops know the two clubs were collaborating,” Bill said. “You implicate him, you implicate me.”

  “I won’t mention your name.”

  “You won’t have to, numbnuts. My relationship with you isn’t a secret. They’ll question me based on your involvement alone.”

  “So what? They’ve got nothing on you.”

  “Why can’t you just eliminate the problem and be done with it?”

  “Because I’ll never be done with it. If I take care of one problem, another crops up. That’s why they call it a vicious cycle.”

  “And what do they call prison, a cakewalk?”

  Ace didn’t answer. He hadn’t expected Bill to applaud his decision, but this wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated. The heat was far more likely to come down on Bill if Ace got arrested for killing Jester. Maybe Bill had a contingency plan in place—one that prevented Ace from being able to speak at all.

  In Bill’s scenario, there were two choices. His way, or death.

  “What the fuck is wrong with this generation,” Bill muttered, rising to his feet. He strode to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. “First Shank, and now you. No one’s got the balls for blood anymore.”

  Ace bristled at the criticism. It was easy for Bill to talk tough when he paid others to do his dirty work. But he’d earned that right, Ace supposed. Bill had come from nothing and reached dizzying heights. He was one of the richest, most powerful men in Indio. Some of his success had been achieved through backstabbing and bloodletting.

  Apparently it was lonely at the top.

  Ace felt no sympathy for him. Bill was a ruthless, conniving sellout who deserved to reap what he’d sowed.

  “You’ll die in prison,” Bill said.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s a fact.”

  Ace might be able to get a better plea deal if he pointed the finger at Bill instead of Gonzo, but it didn’t matter. He needed Bill’s help. Without his Dirty Eleven connections, he’d be an easy target for the Aryan Brotherhood. Ace figured his chances of surviving in prison were about fifty-fifty, unprotected. Betraying Bill would reduce that number drastically.

  “I’m not negotiating with you,” Bill said. “You do this, you’re on your own.”

  “Fine,” Ace said, playing his last card. “I’ll have a chat with Shawnee on my way out.”

  Bill’s fingers tensed on the glass tumbler.

  Jackpot.

  Ace had found Bill’s weak spot: his unfaithful wife. Bill didn’t want Shawnee to know that they’d discussed her affair. He didn’t want Ace running his mouth about it, period. He’d lose face among his friends and enemies if those tawdry rumors circulated. The MC world and the casino world both revolved around male power. Bill could cheat on Shawnee with every whore, maid and waitress in the Coachella Valley, but he couldn’t allow her to do the same. He couldn’t let his own nephew out-cock him.

  “You’re not bluffing,” Bill said.

  “No.”

  Bill placed his drink on the desk and sat down again, his brow furrowed. He could have Ace dragged out of the casino and silenced forever, so this was a risky move. Now wasn’t the time to play it safe, however; Ace was fighting for his life. He was also counting on cooler heads to prevail. Bill didn’t want an ugly scene in his home or his place of business, and there were Dirty Eleven members in the parking lot who supported Ace.

  There had been a shift in club dynamics lately, and stirrings of discontent. Bill wasn’t as popular as he used to be. He’d have to tread lightly.

  “What do you want?” Bill asked.

  “I want to live. For Skye’s sake.”

  Bill dragged his hand down his face, sighing. “You have to swear allegiance to Dirty Eleven and act like you never left the club.”

  Ace nodded his agreement. He could be down for Dirty Eleven in prison, if they were down for him.

  “I don’t have much influence with AB. If you go out of your way to piss them off, I wash my hands.”

  “I understand.” The Aryan Brotherhood was a powerful force in the joint. Bill was offering him a shield, nothing more. Ace would still have to watch his back.

  Bill dismissed him with an irritated wave. He didn’t say good luck, but he didn’t tell Ace to fuck off, either.

  It was a draw.

  Ace walked out of the office, his thoughts in turmoil. He had to trust Bill, a known liar, to hold up his end of the bargain—despite the fact that Ace had already told Shawnee everything. Basically Ace had been playing with a busted hand, and the house of cards he’d built could come tumbling down at any moment.

  Bill’s security guard led Ace to the kitchen, where Shawnee was using the blender to make wheatgrass juice or some shit. She was into health fads and alternative medicine. “You can’t keep dropping in unannounced,” she said.

  It was his first time, and it would be his last.

  She poured herself a green smoothie in a shot glass. Then she sashayed down the hall with Ace following close behind. Skye’s room was on the left. Her name was embossed in pink letters on the door.

  Ace stepped inside, clearing his throat. Skye was sitting on the floor with a picture book. She had a television playing a Disney movie at low volume. She looked up at him, blue eyes wide with excitement.

  Hi Daddy, she signed, scrambling to her feet.

  His throat tightened with emotion. She was his sweet little angel. This was already hard, and he hadn’t said a word.

  Shawnee didn’t come in. She frowned at the security guard, who was hovering in the doorway. He’d obviously been instructed to keep Ace in his sights. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I don’t need you breathing down my neck.”

  The security guard retreated down the hall.

  “Can you stay?” Ace asked her.

  Skye pulled Shawnee into the room. Then she picked up a piece of paper from her desk and showed Ace. It was a drawing of three stick figures, holding hands.

  Shawnee, Skye and Ace.

  “That’s a beautiful picture, baby,” Shawnee said, smoothing Skye’s hair.

  Ace made the sign that meant good.

  Skye beamed up at him. There was a gap between her bottom teeth.

  “You lost a tooth,�
�� he said.

  She touched the spot shyly. Then she went to her bed and lifted the pillow. There was a baggie underneath with a tiny little tooth inside.

  “Can I see it?”

  She gave him the baggie with pride.

  Ace inspected the enamel as if it was more precious than a diamond. “You’re all ready for the tooth fairy tonight.” His voice was gruff and he felt tears welling behind his eyes. He’d been able to stay in control with Janelle, but Skye was a different story. She’d always cut straight through him. He needed to say his piece before he broke down. “I have to tell you something,” he said, sinking to his knees.

  Skye realized that this was important, and serious. Her face went quiet with concern.

  He wished he could leave without hurting her, but it wasn’t possible. As difficult as it was to say goodbye, saying nothing would be worse. He wanted her to know she was his main priority, and she always would be.

  He also had to accept that she might not want to see him when he got out. An extended separation could sever their relationship permanently.

  “I’m going away for a while,” he said.

  Where? she signed.

  “I’m not sure yet, but it might be far away. I won’t be able to come visit you anymore.”

  Her brow furrowed. Why?

  He searched for the right words, but there weren’t any. “Has your grandma ever put you in a time out?”

  She nodded.

  “I did something wrong, and I’m going to a long time out.”

  “No,” she said out loud, surprising him with her rusty speech. She vocalized on occasion, and it sounded strange and unfamiliar, like a foreign language.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” he said, his chest aching. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

  Her face crumpled with sorrow.

  “I can’t visit you here, but maybe your grandma can bring you to see me on special occasions.” Ace glanced at Shawnee, who nodded her agreement. He didn’t like the idea of Skye seeing him behind bars, but he’d take what he could get. Even one visit a year, under stark circumstances, was better than nothing.

  Ace hugged Skye close, savoring their last embrace. She felt small and warm in his arms. She was everything he wasn’t, so full of love and life and joy. He hated taking away a piece of her happiness. When he let go of her, his heart clenched tight.