by Kara Parker
“We could ride across the country together. We could drive down to Mexico, drop off our goods and then spend days drinking on the beach together,” he whispered as his fingers traced the edge of the robe and sent fireworks cascading over my skin. “There’s a resort in Cancun I like. They have ocean view rooms and private beaches where waiters will bring you fresh cold drinks in a pineapple as you lie in the sun. We can make love on the balcony with the sea below us.”
“Hmmmm,” I moaned with my eyes closed. I could easily imagine the two of us on the beach; I wanted it more than anything.
He leaned down and kissed me gently on my lips and I smiled up at him. “So is that a yes?” he asked me, kissing me on the neck.
I sighed and closed my eyes and focused on the sensation of his lips and scruff on my skin. It felt so light and rough at the same time and I never wanted it to stop. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get anything out there were three short knocks on the door. Both Julian and I turned to look at the door in annoyance as if it would apologize for interrupting us.
He groaned and looked down at me. “Did you order something?” he asked with a sigh.
I shook my head. I had never ordered room service in my life and would have been way too worried about the cost to order it at this hotel. It was strange for me to be in such a fancy location and I wasn’t quite sure what the right way to act was. But Julian was confident; he acted as if he spent all of his time in one fancy hotel after another. He grumbled and pulled his jeans on and took a moment to adjust himself as he walked over to answer the door. He glanced into the peephole and then said to me, “It’s just the housekeeper. I’ll tell her to come back later.”
“Why would the housekeeper be bothering us this late?” I asked, but I wasn’t that concerned with it. Who knew how places like this operated. I was stretched out and exposed on the bed my arms above my head. I moved the robe so it was covering me up, but it was untied and the slightest movement would make it slip right off of me. I felt so relaxed and content and I wondered if this is what it would be like to ride with Julian. When I went on long hauls for The Bandits I usually stayed at safe houses and crashed on sagging mattresses. But this was definitely better, a just reward for a hard day’s work.
Julian opened the door a crack and then I watched in horror as it swung open hard, slamming against the back wall and a teary-eyed maid was pushed into the room. Behind her and holding a gun to her head was Paul.
“Paul!” I shouted, without even thinking. He turned to look at me and he took me all in. Me resting on the bed in nothing but an untied bathrobe. My hair was a mess and my clothes and Julian’s were tossed about the room. In a second his eyes took in everything around him and in that second he understood everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Let her go,” I said to Paul, sitting up and closing my robe around me. I didn't shout or scream. I was still hoping there was some way we could get out of this without anyone getting arrested or hurt. The chances of that happening were rare. Paul looked furious and that was never a good sign.
He stared daggers at me and I remembered the other Paul, the one with the temper he couldn’t control. When Paul was mad, he was dangerous. Paul in a rage didn’t think. He would throw plates and cups and once he even smashed his car right into a tree. There was no calming him down when he got like this. Back when we were together I would leave at the first sign of his rage. He would get red in the face and start yelling about things that didn’t matter and I would know it was time to get out of Dodge and I would slip out the first chance I got. I would stay with a friend or at the clubhouse for a couple of days until he came crawling back, promising it would never happen again. But it always did and, eventually, I stopped forgiving him.
I remembered the broken plates and windows and screaming matches and threats and my eyes flicked to the unarmed and barely-dressed Julian. Paul was dressed in black boots, black jeans and a black leather jacket. I knew he had another gun in his holster and a knife on him somewhere. This was bad; this was going to be very bad and I needed to do something to stop it.
“Bathroom,” he instructed the maid and sobbing the woman rushed to the bathroom and I heard the door lock behind her.
“Bad idea,” Julian said. His voice was low and dark and even though he was standing there barefoot in a pair of jeans, he still looked intimidating. “Turn around and leave,” he ordered. Julian looked relaxed his hands were still by his side, but I knew better. He was in a relaxed fighting stance, one foot slightly in front of the other a shoulder’s width apart. He was fast and I was sure he could block any blow Paul might deliver. But Paul didn’t need to punch Julian. He had a gun; he just needed to pull the trigger.
Paul looked terrible. The once handsome features of his face were now bruised and swollen and there were small cuts on his cheek and his lips. His eyes were red and bloodshot and his hands were covered in bandages. Julian had given him a solid beating this morning and I was amazed he was able to stand up, let alone track me down.
“Paul, don’t do anything stupid,” I said, retying my robe and then holding my hands up in an appeasing gesture. It was useless; there was no calming him down and trying to calm him down only made him angrier. The muscles in his face were working as he tried to control his rage as he got angrier and angrier. He was dangerous when he got like this; he was liable to do anything. His eyes were fixated on my black bra that had been tossed onto the floor and I wanted him to look at me or at anything else.
“What the fuck is this, Daniela?” he said looking at my robe and around the room. “You’re sleeping with him?” His voice was angry and hurt and disgusted all at once and I didn’t know what to say. “I’ve spent the last twelve hours searching for you,” he continued, gesturing violently with the gun. “I’ve been chasing down leads since this morning. I finally found out he was your guard, but then I had to find you. I knew he wouldn’t take you back to the clubhouse; it’s still not safe there, and the whole place is a wreck. I’ve been following leads all day with my face smashed to nothing only to find you here like this. Tell me he forced you; tell me that at least, Daniela!”
I shook my head. “He didn’t...it’s not like that...Paul, it’s not what you think,” I stammered. But that wasn't quite right. This was exactly what it looked like. I was sleeping with the enemy and I had been enjoying it. But now Paul was here and I wished I had never come here with Julian. I wished I could have been stronger. I wished I hadn’t wanted him so badly.
“You fucking slut,” Paul spit at me and I opened my mouth to argue with him, but he just kept going. “You’re a traitor. You were nothing when I found you. Nothing! You were just another trashy girl with a foster care sob story. The Bandits taught you everything! They gave you a home and they made you their lead driver and this is how you repay us?”
“I was kidnapped. I tried to escape,” I explained at I couldn’t bear to look at Julian as I spoke. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but I needed to end this before anyone got hurt. “I tried to get away but I was caught every time.”
“Yeah?” He swung the gun around and it wasn’t faced at Julian anymore; he pointed it right at me. “Because you don’t look like a girl who’s trying to come home. You look like a whore. Fancy hotel room and a bathrobe, is he paying you, is that it?”
“No,” Julian said. He had been silent this entire time and I finally looked over at him. He was breathing deeply and his muscles were tense. He was struggling to control himself, his arms shaking and his fists clenching and unclenching. But he was unarmed and if he tried anything he would die. “She wants to be here,” Julian said. “So you should leave now before this gets very, very bad for you.”
“Is that true?” Paul asked me.
The gun was pointed right at my chest and Paul was only about five feet away. There was no chance he would miss. I should lie. I should say whatever I needed to say to keep myself alive. I should say Julian had dragged my here against my will. That I was
so happy that Paul had come to save me. But at that exact moment I knew I couldn’t lie. I just couldn’t.
“Yes,” I said to Paul. “I came here with him. I...” but I stopped, not knowing what else to say. I loved Julian; that was why I had done it. It had been less than a week, but I knew it already. I loved Julian in a way I had never loved Paul. When Paul had found me I had been a mess and he had been the older guy with his life all figured out. I had been desperate and he had been available. But it was different with Julian; he and I were equals.
Paul wore a look of disgust like nothing I had ever seen before. It cut straight my heart. He shook his head at me and then he turned around and pointed the gun at Julian. “You did this,” he hissed. “You kidnapped her and you messed with her head and I’m gonna make you pay. You think you can fuck with The Bandits? You think you can take our women and we won’t hunt you down? You think-” But before he could finish Julian made a sudden jump to the side.
Paul fired, but he missed and in the instant it took him to pull the trigger Julian had overturned the desk and was hunched behind it. I jumped off the bed and ran over to Paul to stop him, but he saw me coming and he instantly spun again and pointed the gun at me.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“No,” I said shaking my head.
“What did you just say to me?” he demanded, gesturing at me with the gun. “Either you come with me, or you die.”
“I can’t,” I said shaking my head. I had made my choice; I was staying with Los Desperados. I couldn’t go back to The Bandits now. They would think I was a traitor; they would kill me and Paul knew it. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Julian hunched behind the desk. But he was still unarmed and there was nothing he could do for me.
“Bitch,” Paul screamed at me and he started towards me, the gun still pointed at me.
He was focused solely on me and Julian took the opportunity. Like a shot he jumped out from behind the desk and launched himself at Paul. Grabbing the paperweight he hurled it at Paul as he ran headfirst into him.
The paperweight hit Paul on the shoulder and he spun around to point the gun at Julian, but the hit had thrown him off and Julian grabbed the gun and pointed it towards the ceiling as the two men wrestled for control.
“Stop!” I screamed. But neither one of them were listening to me. I ran towards them, but I couldn’t get too close.
They were still fighting over the gun and it was swinging wildly above them, and I knew it wasn’t safe for me to get any closer. Julian was taller than Paul and stronger, and Paul was still recovering from their fight this morning. Julian kneed Paul in the stomach and Paul bent over in pain. Julian shoved Paul over to the wall and slammed his hand on the corner sending the gun skittering across the spotless hotel floor where it stopped next to my bra.
Julian’s eyes followed the gun and Paul took the opportunity to slam his fist into Julian's stomach. Paul scrambled for the gun, but Julian recovered quickly and he grabbed Paul by the collar of his shirt and wrenched him back and sent him flying across the room. It seemed to happen in slow motion. I heard myself screaming the word no, but it was too late. Julian spun and kicked Paul right in the stomach. Paul, a look of surprise on his face, was pushed back and as he fell backwards the base of his neck hit the coffee table and a sickening crack echoed through the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“No!” I screamed, running over to Paul and falling on my knees next to him.
“Daniela, we have to go,” Julian said grabbing me by the arm and attempting to pull me up but I managed to tear my arm away from him.
I searched Paul’s neck for a pulse, but there was nothing. I placed my hand on his chest to feel for any movement but there was nothing. I bent over and pressed my ear against him as tears began to spill from my eyes. This couldn’t have happened. Paul couldn’t be dead; he just couldn’t be. We weren’t together anymore, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care about him. I had never wanted this to happen. This was everything I feared would happen if I made the wrong choice. Choosing Los Desperados was supposed to end the fight, not get Paul killed.
I had lost my virginity to Paul. He had been my first real boyfriend. We used to lie in bed together and talk about anything and everything late into the night. Sometimes we would smoke up and he would make me waffles at two in the morning just because I wanted them. Paul had taught me how to ride a motorcycle; he had helped me pick out my first bike. Paul was the person who pushed for me to be a driver with The Bandits and helped me study to get my trucker’s license. He wasn’t perfect, but he hadn’t deserved to die in a hotel after seeing me like that.
“Daniela, we have to go!” Julian said, but he didn’t try to touch me.
“He’s dead,” I said as I looked at Paul’s body splayed out on the floor and even though I said it out loud I still couldn’t believe it. His eyes and mouth were open and he looked surprised and confused, as if even in death he couldn't quite comprehend that he was gone. I put my hands on his still warm face and neck hoping against hope that he might come back. “You killed him!” I said, my voice rising higher as sobs began to wrack my chest. “You killed him!” I screamed. He had killed Paul, my Paul. The only man I had ever loved and been loved by.
How could I have thought I could ever join Los Desperados? Big Mike had been right about them; they were nothing but thugs and murderers. They were thieves who stole and never worked for anything. Julian had blinded me. He had been handsome and good in bed he turned me into a lovesick fool, a girl who threw everything away for some guy. I had become the worst kind of person.
It all worked out so well: Julian as my guard, the two of us alone together, and the sex. It was all a trap, a ploy to suck me in; it had to be. The plan from the beginning had been to convert me and Julian had done exactly that. Less than a week with him and his charms and I was ready to give up everything. I was a fool. Had he ever wanted me at all? Or was this all part of some sick ploy to keep me here?
“He was going to shoot you, Daniela. He had a gun on you and he was trying to take you away from me. What was I supposed to do?”
“You didn’t have to kill him,” I sobbed.
“It was him or me. Would you rather I had been shot instead?”
“You didn’t need to kill him,” I repeated. I didn’t want to listen to his excuses or his reasons. He had killed Paul, a man who had come here to save me. He wasn’t my enemy and he wasn’t Julian’s enemy. He had just come to the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn’t fair that he had to die because of this. Paul was still so young; he had his entire life in front of him. He had driven fast and played hard and his life couldn’t just be over. His life couldn’t end like this, a broken neck in a hotel fight over his ex-girlfriend. Paul was too good for that.
“He shot at me!” Julian said. “You’re fine with that?”
“I loved him,” I sobbed. Tears were rolling down my face and I was shaking all over. My hands were wrapped around Paul’s and his skin was still warm. From certain angles it looked like he was still asleep and I would have done anything to wake him up. I would go with him. If he would wake up right at this moment I would walk out of here with him and never look back. I would forgive him for cheating on me. I would move back in; we could have our old life back. Please wake up, I thought desperately, please, please wake up. But he didn’t move.
Julian grabbed my arm again, but this time his touch wasn’t gentle and he wrenched me to my feet. He had a white sheet in his hand and he threw it over Paul’s body. I could still see the outline of his face, that look of surprise still etched there. His skin was still flushed, and his eyes still shone and I still couldn’t believe he was really dead. I wanted to rip that sheet off him. It was an insult. It was too soon to cover the body and declare him dead. There might still be a miracle; there might still be a way that this worked out.
Back when we were dating Paul had this habit of paging me at two or three in the morning. He said he was an insomniac. He wo
uld page me that he needed to see me. He would wait outside, in the yard under my room and I would sneak out the window of the foster house and climb down to the ground. Paul would be there waiting for me. He would catch me as I made my last jump. I remember the way he used to smile when he first saw me, like he was really happy just to see me. There were no expectations or grudges, just his honest joy at seeing me. We would hug, just stand in the cool front yard and wrap our arms around each other and just stand like that for what felt like hours.
I would never hug him again. We would never meet under the stars again. He would never call me Danny, or tell me a joke, or lie on the couch with me and just watch TV for hours. Paul hadn’t been perfect, but neither was I. Didn’t I have my flaws? Didn’t I have a temper? We had a lot of good times, more good than bad.
If the roles were reversed I would have done the same thing. I would have found Paul; I would have tracked him down. And if I found him in a hotel with some chick from a rival gang, I think I would have acted just like he had. He was dead and blameless.
Julian was digging through his pockets and he pulled out a huge wad of bills. He walked over to the bathroom where the maid had been hiding this entire time. He glanced over at me and put a finger to his lips as he opened the door.