Ride Me Hard (Black Horsemen MC Book 2)

by Sophia Hampton

  In the midst of the group, she caught the eye of the bartender. Casey was one of the few young women Gloria had enjoyed being with. She was always too perky for her own good, but Gloria actually appreciated that kind of optimism. It made Jackman’s actually seem like a place she could call home instead of a spot where she did business and drank.

  Casey smiled at her and grabbed a long stemmed bottle of tequila from the top shelf along with three clean shot glasses from behind the bar. She opened the bar door and headed to her. Weaving her way in and out of the men crowding her area, she finally made it to Gloria and placed the shot glasses in front of her.

  “What’s goin’ on tonight? Some kind of convention or somethin’? I don’t recognize any of these guys.” Gloria had learned quickly in her years of blackmailing that there was only one person who knew more than her about the lives of the tavern drinkers. And that was the bartender.

  “I’m not sure, actually. They showed up yesterday night and apparently haven’t left. Dan said there was a crowd of them waiting for the bar to open at six.” Casey seemed unfazed by it all.

  Gloria, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure about the motives of these men. “Are any of them wearin’ colors?” She had lowered her voice to a whisper. Talking about colors, the motorcycle club’s identifying marks, was a total breach of etiquette for someone not affiliated. It could get her killed if she was thought to be too curious for her own good.

  Casey concentrated on pouring her shots into the glass before looking back at Gloria in the eye. “Yeah,” she said cautiously. “I think they’re Horsemen.”

  The hair on the back of Gloria’s neck prickled. Why in the world would Vinny’s motorcycle cub be basically taking over Jackman’s Tavern? And, more importantly, why were all of the members present staring her down like snakes in a pit? If she were about to get bitten, she wanted, needed, to know more. Gloria leaned in to catch Casey’s ear. She didn’t want to draw anymore attention, “Do you know why they’re here? I mean, this is usually Devils’ territory, ain’t it?”

  “You know better‘n I do that this is. Not a-one of us workin’ here knows why they’re stakin’ claim—or what they plan on doin’. But I’m takin’ the next few days off just in case. Told Dan my ma’s sick. Ain’t ideal, I s’pose, but no way in hell am I gonna be around when the Devils go through with whatever they plan on doin’.”

  Gloria patted her on the hand while plastering a fake smile on her face. She hoped it would throw the men still eyeing her off of her scent, “That’s smart, Casey. Whenever motorcycle club members gather in public, nothin’ but trouble is comin’. I may take your advice and take a few more days off.”

  Casey nodded as she picked up some discarded napkins on the floor. Wiping down the table one last time, she turned to walk back towards the bar where she was needed more. Gloria checked the time on her phone before taking the first shot. It hit her fast and hard. Almost a week away from the bottle and everything was flying through her like fire in a field. She shot the second down rapidly as she let out an audible “Ahhhh.”

  Before she could take the third, Jordan slipped in unannounced in her booth. It wasn’t totally unexpected. Jordan had been Gloria’s employee for a few years now. He was originally a client, but Gloria had shown Jordan something she was unable to give everyone else who crossed her blackmailing path: pity. Instead of ratting him out to his parents, she had taken him under her wings, letting her in on her business. He was paid in a place to live, a roof over his head, and food in his belly. He also got to play lead guitar in her band, which only endeared him to her more.

  But this night, Jordan looked different, almost changed. His expression was dark and brooding. The youthful, smooth face had transformed in the week she had seen him to a man holding in something. Gloria couldn’t help but exclaim, “Jordan, what’s wrong with you? You look like you have been through some hell!”

  “I need to talk to you, Gloria.” He couldn’t bear to look up at her as he spoke, “I made a decision while you were gone, and I need you to hear me out.”

  Gloria swallowed hard as she took the last shot in her mouth. Whatever he was about to lay on her didn’t sound like anything she could handle without a bit of liquid courage. “Lay it on me, Jordan. I’m all ears.”

  “I need you to release me.” He said it so quickly, Gloria asked him to repeat it. “Gloria, I wanna give this up. I need to give this up. I’m in too deep for my own good now. I know too much, and I don’t feel safe.” Jordan twiddled his fingers in small circles as he did not dare to look her in her eye. What he was doing, or wanted to do, was just out of the question.

  “What about our deal, Jordan?” Gloria shouted. She had moved past disbelief and had started in on pain and resentment. After all, who had been the one there for him from the time he walked into Jackman’s? Who had made sure he was eating well, sleeping safely, and protected from his abusive family? She had done nothing but care for him like a big sister would and he was now betraying her by moving on. She could not let him go just like that.

  “I don’t give a flyin’ fuck about the deal anymore. I’m gonna go back home anyways. I got family that’ll take me in, and my uncle Tommy says there’s a job waiting for me with his painting business if I can get home by the end of the month. I need to move on that way. I need to get right, and this is the way I can do it.” Jordan had it all figured out, and he couldn’t help but be a bit boastful of his plan.

  “And Casey? What about her?” Gloria could not care less about his relationship with the bartender. It was simply a stall tactic—the only thing in this world she could think of to get him to stick around with her.

  Jordan looked toward the bar, following Casey’s move as she poured beer from the tap into a large, frosty mug and pushed it to a bearded man at the end of the stools. The pain in his voice arched as he said, “I’m gonna ask her to come with. I know she prob’ly won’t. I mean, we ain’t even datin’—not officially, anyways. But I’m gonna try. If it’s a no—well, at least I tried.”

  Gloria paused. She couldn’t give up so easily, but he looked so determined to go. If he was truly returning to his family, there were no threats she could come up with that would get him to stay, yet still keep him in harm’s way. So, she said the only thing she could think to say, “When?”

  “I’m hopin’ to be outta here end o’ th’ week. I wanna leave earlier, but Uncle Tommy bought me a bus ticket, and I can’t ask him to change it, not after he put the money down for it already.” He pulled a white envelope out of his pocket and slid it across from the table. Inside were a handwritten letter and a printed blue and white ticket with the date printed in black, foreboding ink. His bus departed at two in the morning, the same time he would be packing up from working with her on getting the blackmail money.

  He continued on, guessing at what was upsetting Gloria now, “I’ll still pick up your envelopes and talk to the clients until I leave. I won’t leave you until I have to.” He reached out his hand to take Gloria’s and peered into her eyes. His soft voice floated over the noise of the bar as he pleaded with her, “Gloria, I think you need to do the same thing. I think you need to get out of here. This con, this job—whatever you want to call it—it ain’t no good no more. You gettin’ involved with Vinny and the Horsemen is playin’ with fire. I feel like it’s going to come burn you soon if you don’t find a way to get out.”

  “You son of a bitch—you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gloria could feel herself getting defensive, but Vinny had literally saved her in that parking lot. Jordan was right about the dangerous aspect, but it was a part of his life she was going to have to come to terms with at least for the immediate future.

  “Look around. You see this bar? You see those men? They ain’t here to drink some shitty, watered-down beer and to hook up with some drunk skanks. They’re here for you.”

  “How could you even know that? They’re in a turf war, Jordan. It has nothing to do with us.” Gloria had to bel
ieve that. The alternative was far too horrible to consider.

  “I seen the patches. I know who they ride with. And I know you had something to do with Carl goin’ missing. I mean, shit, Gloria, everybody here knows he’s the sumbitch who knifed you.”

  “Fuck you, Jordan!” She spat her anger towards him, not caring if anyone around was listening. “I had nothing to do with Carl. I didn’t even know he was riding with an MC. If I hear you’re telling people otherwise, that grave will have your name on it, not mine. You hear me?”

  Jordan stood, looking down at her with an expression Gloria was not familiar with—empathy. “I feel sorry for you, Gloria. You’re in way too deep, and you got no idea how to dig yourself out of it. I wanna help you out. I want to make sure you’re safe. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, but if you won’t take my hand, I’m not gonna offer it.”

  Gloria had grown cold. She refused to listen to him anymore. He had crossed a line, and her pride was not about to let his pleas make any impact on her tonight. “Get your things out of my place by Saturday night. I expect you to keep working for me until then.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll leave tonight’s envelopes on the table for you.” With one last promise, he left, heading out to the parking lot to take his place.

  Gloria watched him walk away with complete wonder. He was right. She knew he was. But running away was not in her blood. She may be wild. She may be a wanderer, a vagabond. Yet, Jackman’s was home and her job was a part of who she was. Starting over again in some other backwoods bar was just not going to be possible, not after she had become so involved with Vinny. Gloria was not going to give up that constancy without a fight.

  She stood her ground the rest of the night, almost willing the men to come to her and confront her. If they had an issue with her like Jordan had suspected, she would give them all the opportunity to show her their dissatisfaction. But no one did. Gloria sat alone besides for the few clients coming and going out of her booth. The men kept their distance.

  That is, until she drove off. From her mirrors, she watched as the same men followed her to the parking lot, got on their bikes, and pulled out behind her. They turned when she did. They stopped when she did. They weaved through traffic when she did.

  And when she made the decision not to return to Vinny’s apartment and instead return to her own home, she watched in horror as they, too, pulled into the parking lot of her complex. Each turned off their lights and got off of their motorcycle. The men waited in the still silence of the fall night for Gloria to get out of her car.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Everywhere on Vinny’s body seemed to rattle and shake with each movement of his bike. His legs could barely hold on. His arms trembled in their position. His chest heaved and hawed as he sped up and slowed down. Making turns or passing a car forced him to turn his head awkwardly.

  However, he could not care less. Ever since he purchased his first ride at sixteen, he had not gone a day without riding until this injury. He had ridden through broken noses, crushed hands, and bleeding body parts. Cold wet weather and coming down with the stomach flu hadn’t even kept him away. But now it had been a week since he rode—an eternity, in his book. And he vowed to himself to never let an injury, or a person, prevent him from hitting the open road. Nothing would stand in his way.

  Besides reconnecting with his first and only love, Vinny had other motivations for pushing his body through the wild ride. He needed to get to headquarters in less than twenty minutes. Getting out of his home and onto the bike had taken up far too much time, and he forced himself to drive slowly until he figured out a hand and arm position that wouldn’t have him biting down on his lip in agony.

  He was going to be late, an inexcusable offense for the Horsemen. Unless you’re dead, you showed up for every single meeting on time and dressed for the occasion. There just wasn’t a reason in the world that would fly for Benni. But Vinny had hope that he would forgive him just this once considering the beating he took in the name of the Horsemen.

  To their knowledge, Vinny had killed Carl. That should be enough, but with Benni potentially knowing too much, he was forced to play it cool. He ran over the details and his story in his head. He had to omit every detail about Gloria that may come up. He had to cover every base, every movement. There would be questions; there would be suspicions.

  It was his word against Carl’s reputation, and Carl had risen the ranks of the Horsemen for a reason. People loved his ferocity and his ability to take no shit from anyone. But that was all a rouse, a ploy that Vinny too had fallen for. But no one else except for Vinny had taken his confession in the parking lot before Gloria managed to drive a knife through his back.

  Taking one last deep breath, Vinny steadied himself as he pulled into the parking lot and stacked his bike at the far end of the rows. Glancing at the building, he could see the smoke pouring out of the bottoms of the doors and open windows as it floated magically into the night. Dim yellow lights passed through the peaks of the black curtains and Vinny could just barely make out the lines of the men’s silhouettes in the windows.

  Just inside the front entrance, Vinny knew that at least two or three men were keeping guard. More than likely, one had already spotted or heard him pulling into the parking lot. His only option was to attempt to sneak in through the back exit where they picked up the trash. It was largely unguarded or only looked over by young guns, guys who hadn’t fully earned the right to sit in on a meeting.

  Vinny was right. That night, only one young man stood against the back door. He was smoking a cigarette and checking his phone for texts. He didn’t give Vinny a second glance as he pushed past him and into the hallway. Only when he was a couple feet through the door did the boy turn to him to ask him his name. When Vinny showed his jacket, he backed down again, apparently appeased by his gesture, and went back to writing his message with his thumbs.

  Once he passed the kitchen area and past the few full garbage cans, Vinny was able to see the light of the main meeting hall. He opened the door a crack and waited in the wings for his moment to enter. But the muffled words of the concerned, irritated voices made him stop in his place.

  “—it’s a problem, man. Who knows what that bitch knows.”

  “I’ve heard of her. She’s got info on my old man. He’s been paying her for a year now to keep quiet about sleeping around. If she knows too much, she is going to use it.”

  “She’s a whore. That’s it. She slept with Jamie last month and didn’t do a damn thing afterwards. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal? What if she knows about the routes, the sellers? What if Vin told Gloria about his assignments? She knows more than her life is worth. I say we do something about her!”

  A shout of support rose up among the majority of the men at the words of the last speaker. Vinny cringed to himself as he realized there was a reason why there had been a lack of phone calls or no visits after he had been brought back to his apartment. They knew about Gloria and him. They knew she had found some kind of information from him.

  He opened the door a crack to see the last speaker, the man that the group was applauding. Standing near the front of the room, scanning each corner of the men for support was Quimby, a portly bearded man nicknamed the statesman of the crew. He was older and more experienced than everyone here. He had ridden with legendary groups when he was younger from the Roughriders to the Beasts. And through his associations, he was known as a true 1%er, someone who simply didn’t care about authority or law.

  Now that man was standing up in front of Vinny’s people and preaching about how he may have given into Gloria’s tactics and become another one of her victims. He should have known Vinny better. Every one of those men agreeing with him should have known better. But it was a convincing argument and a pretty big issue. Some sleazy scam artist had compromised their enforcer; who wouldn’t be worried or thrown off by that? Vinny would probably be there, front row center agreeing with Quimby if it
were someone else they were talking about.

  Still, Vinny couldn’t just stand there and let the men talk it over without knowing the facts. He was about to commit near suicide, but at least it would be at the risk of his pride and good name.

  “She doesn’t know anything.” Vinny found himself shouting over the crowd as they settled in from Quimby’s speech. He slid through the doorway nonchalantly like he had all the right to be in that room. And, by his account, he still did. “All she knows is that I am a Horsemen and that Junior needed an introduction to the Devils that night.” It was a half-truth—not the complete story by any stretch of the imagination.

  “Then why are you doing her bidding like some little dog on a leash?” Quimby again was the dissenter, though Vinny could tell he was just vocalizing what everyone else in the room was thinking.

  “That night, when I thought Junior was getting in with the Devils, Gloria figured out who I was based on some rumors from her sources. She tried blackmailing me by threatening to let the Devils know about Junior and our plans. I couldn’t risk getting Junior killed at that time and losing out on our sources. ” That was more of a lie than the first defense. Still, it was innocent enough. Her “sources” were everywhere and she could vouch for that if questioned without compromising anyone in particular.