Midnight Obsession: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 4

by Olivia Thorne

Definitely sacrilegious.

  “Can we get down to business?” Jack asked, impatient.

  She sighed and looked at Jack’s crotch again. “I wish we could get down to somethin’ else.”

  Now Jack was getting pissed. “Sloane – ”

  “Don’t worry,” she teased, winking at me. “I’ll share.”

  Now Jack’s temper flared. “I didn’t call you here for a bunch of sex talk.”

  “No, you apparently called me for a bunch ‘a bullshit,” she snapped, and suddenly she was all steel and razor blades. “I’m doin’ 1.5 million a month out of Phoenix in meth and coke, and I’m fightin’ off the Santa fuckin’ Muertes every step of the goddamn way. You show up on my doorstep with a fuckin’ weed operation – and you’re not even close to bein’ a major player in Cali, since the dispensaries can get their shit from Oregon and Washington state if they don’t wanna deal with your second-class hippie operation. So you’re basically a two-bit extra who got kicked out on his ass, and you want my help to topple the guy who done it, at substantial risk to me and my organization, even though you ain’t got nowhere near enough nickels to rub together to pay for my time. Not to mention the fact that you got handed your ass without a fuckin’ bullet fired, which means your weakness? It’s like blood in the water. If’n you do get rid of Lou and take back the Midnight Riders, the Santa Muertes are gonna come eat your ass like Great White sharks makin’ a buffet outta fat people. Now, did I miss somethin’ in there, or do you want to correct my first impression?”

  God DAMN.

  “Apparently we’re not just a weed operation anymore. Lou’s got a meth lab I didn’t know about,” he said.

  “Well whoop-de-doo for Lou.”

  Jack grimaced. “And there’s one more detail you might want to know about.”

  “And what is that.”

  “…I’m working for the DEA.”

  WHAT?!

  I looked over at Jack in alarm.

  There was a split second of alarm on Sloane’s face – and then she pointed her gun right at Jack’s head. “You fuckin’ son of a bitch – ”

  “HOLD ON,” Jack snapped. “I’m not wearing a wire. I don’t want you; I want Lou.”

  “How the fuck do I know that?”

  “If I wanted you, do you think I would tell you I was working for the DEA?”

  She frowned. “I guess that makes sense, in a completely fucked up kind of way…” Then she stared daggers at Jack again. “You stupid son of a bitch – sayin’ shit like that is how you get yourself killed.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t see how I could exactly soft-sell that.”

  “I suppose. Don’t do no good to sugarcoat a turd.” She looked at him sideways, then got a mischievous smile on her face. “I should make you strip buck nekkid to make sure you don’t have a wire.”

  Bitch.

  “No,” Jack said.

  She glanced down at his crotch and cocked an eyebrow suggestively. “I’d give you a little sumpin’ sumpin’ to make it worth your while.”

  FUCKING bitch –

  But Jack still said, “No.”

  Sloane huffed in frustration and looked back and forth between me and Jack. “I thought you two weren’t fuckin’.”

  “Fiona’s got nothing to do with this,” Jack said. “If you and I are going to do business, then I want to keep it business.”

  Sloane looked at me suspiciously. “What the hell’s she doin’ here, then?”

  “Fiona was undercover looking for her cousin’s murderer when she and I hooked up. She thinks Lou probably did it.”

  Sloane’s eyes narrowed, and she shifted the pistol to me. “Undercover for who?”

  I can’t lie, my heart stopped for a second as I stared down the barrel of the Glock.

  “Put the gun back on me, Sloane,” Jack ordered.

  “Answer the damn question.”

  “Put the gun back on me.”

  He said it in a tone of voice that would not be disobeyed.

  And, I have to say, goddamn sexy. Even though I hated him.

  Sloane huffed and snarled, then pointed the gun at Jack again.

  “Thank you,” Jack growled. “Fiona’s a PI in LA. She went undercover to find out who killed her cousin, and the DEA found out and blackmailed her into helping them.”

  Sloane’s eyes grew wide. “That how they got to you?”

  “More or less.”

  “You were fuckin’ her, and you didn’t figure out she was a snitch?” she marveled, then laughed. “God, Jack, you never did have the sense God gave a box of paperclips.”

  My blood started boiling. “It was only for 24 hours.”

  Sloane smirked. “What, the fuckin’ or the snitchin’?”

  It was probably a good thing my .38 was on the bed, or I might have used it right then and there.

  “The DEA blackmailed me Friday night, and Saturday night Lou backstabbed Jack.”

  “Oh,” Sloane said sarcastically, “that makes it so much better.”

  “Lou missed it, too,” Jack said. “Or she wouldn’t be alive.”

  Sloane shook her head in wonder at Jack. “You really did it? You turned traitor?”

  “I prefer to look at it like Lou backstabbed me, so now I’m going to return the favor. But I made a deal: the club is going to get a pass from the DEA, except for Lou, Eyeball, and anybody else at the top.”

  It was a lie – or at least a fanciful daydream.

  Sloane didn’t buy it either. “Riiiight. I hate to break it to you, Jack, but I think the DEA is takin’ advantage of your inherent gullibility.”

  “I don’t care if half the club gets thrown in jail, as long as the rot gets cleared out.”

  “Maybe you don’t know this, darlin’, but even if you pull the turd out of a shit sandwich, what you got left is a bunch of shitty bread. Not to mention you’re gonna have the Santa Muertes knockin’ on your door once you give Lou the boot.”

  “The DEA wants them, too,” Jack said.

  “The Santa Muertes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, hell, who doesn’t the DEA want?” Sloane asked in exasperation.

  “You, for one.”

  “Riiiight.”

  “The main focus is Lou, the Santa Muertes, and the Richards PD.”

  Sloane’s eyes bugged out. “Ho-lee shit. They’re gonna try to take out Peters and clean house?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Well good luck with that. Talk about pullin’ turds out of a shit sandwich – that’s a twelve-foot-long Subway.” She paused. “Let’s say, just for a minute, that I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to help you with what is clearly the most fucked-up enterprise I ever heard of. What the hell do I get out of it?”

  “With the Santa Muertes gone, a lot of territory in Southern California is going to open up.”

  “…yeah…?” she said warily.

  “And it’d be helpful to have an associate to watch your back north of LA, but who wouldn’t care to be involved in the business end of things.”

  She frowned. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you just take it all for yourself? Not that you could, mind you…”

  “What I told you three years ago still holds. If I get the Riders back, I’m staying out of the drug business for good.”

  “Oh, Jack,” she sighed, and she got that misty-eyed nostalgia you see in people who haven’t completely gotten over their exes. “Still too damn dumb for your own goddamn good.”

  “I’m tryin’,” he said with a smile.

  Sloane’s face suddenly darkened, and she looked at Jack out of the corner of her eye. “Wait a minute… you said the main focus is Lou and the Santa Muertes and the PD. I don’t want to be the minor focus. Or any kind of goddamn focus, for that matter.”

  “They’re not even after you.”

  “The DEA’s not after me,” she said, like Pffff, yeah, RIGHT.

  “Not this operation. I have no idea what their field office in Phoenix is cooking
up.”

  “Well, I’m sure your fuckin’ federales wouldn’t mind takin’ me along for the ride, too.”

  “They won’t know about you. Not if we play this right.”

  “And exactly how do you want to do that?”

  “That’s kind of where we could use your tactical help,” Jack admitted.

  “Jesus Christ. Not only do I got to save your ass, I got to wipe it, too,” Sloane griped – but she finally lowered her gun.

  63

  Through the next ten minutes, a rough plan emerged. I have to admit, whatever her other flaws (like the lack of any conscience), Sloane had a cunning and analytical mind.

  Considering she was a drug-dealing outlaw biker, I’m not saying that’s a good thing.

  “I’m thinking we go get the meth guy,” Jack said, returning to the original plan that Sid had pooh-poohed.

  “You mean kill him?”

  “No!” Jack said, offended. “Just get him to talk.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “He can testify against Lou.”

  “Riiiight. He ain’t gonna testify against Lou, honey, just like Zed and Pigpen ain’t gonna tell anybody how I get my kicks every once in a while, cuz they all know they’d get a bullet in the back of the head. ‘Sides, it ain’t gonna do you no good if the cook spills his guts to a buncha bikers. Why don’t you just tell the DEA and get them to go bust him?”

  “…they already know about him,” Jack said sheepishly.

  “And they ain’t picked him up yet?”

  “…no…”

  “Jesus Christ, Jack, then what good is going after the cook? Unless…”

  Sloane went silent and got a far-off look in her eyes.

  “Unless what?” Jack prodded.

  “Unless you blow up the meth lab. That’ll cripple Lou’s operation. He’s gonna need a lot of money to rebuild another lab, so he’ll probably want to sell off whatever he’s got to raise the cash.”

  “How much does he really need?” Jack asked dubiously. “Can’t he just get an RV and cook somewhere?”

  “Not if he’s doin’ any sort of volume. The fact he’s got a permanent set-up big enough to fit in a barn tells me he could be doin’ anywhere from two to ten kilos of crystal a day, if he’s got enough supplies. And if the Santa Muertes are his buyers, he’s probably doin’ closer to ten. They wouldn’t mess around with any penny ante shit. They wanna buy and distribute in bulk, not deal with a buncha little fuckers.”

  “Okay, so we destroy the meth lab, then,” Jack agreed.

  She shook her head. “You can’t do that first.”

  “Why not?!”

  “After two weeks of doin’ nothin’ but holdin’ your dick in your hand – and a very nice dick it is,” she said, with another flirtatious look at his crotch (which pissed me off again), “you’re gonna suddenly waltz in and blow shit up? It’s desperate, and it ain’t the sorta thing you do. You always liked pussyfootin’ around and bein’ all legal ‘n shit. Blowin’ up a meth lab makes it look like you want Lou to come after you, like you’re settin’ a trap. No, we need to make him mad enough to hit you first. Then blowin’ up the meth lab looks like revenge… which means he has to do a major drug deal to get enough money to build a new one. And if he knows you’re still out there gunnin’ for him, he’ll need Peters to provide protection. And then maybe, just maybe, we can get Lou, the Santa Muertes, and the cops all in one big shebang.”

  “How do we make him mad?” Jack asked.

  “Oh, trust me, I can handle that part,” she said smugly.

  “How?”

  “You just let me worry about that. You worry about stayin’ alive.”

  “Can you get me something to blow up the meth lab?”

  “Already ahead of you, hon. You’ll get it in the next 24 hours.”

  “Alright.” Jack paused, then gave his ex-wife a grim smile. “Thanks, Sloane. I owe you.”

  “And don’t you forget it. Come on, bring it on in,” she said, and held out her arms wide. “Hug it out, bitch.”

  Jack sighed and hugged her. She took the opportunity to smush her fake tits against him and grab his ass.

  I felt like I was about to go nuclear.

  “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Jack said, breaking out of her embrace.

  “God damn I miss you sometimes,” she sighed. “You are one fine hunk of man-meat.”

  “Yeah, well, just remember the other things about me you didn’t like.”

  “Oh, I remember, alright. Stupid, stubborn, stuck-up, wantin’ to be poor all the rest of your life just so you could say you were legit – ”

  “Yeah, okay, that’s enough,” Jack said.

  “ – stick up your ass, short-sighted, lost your balls somewhere along the way – ”

  “I got it,” Jack snapped.

  She sighed again theatrically. “But what I wouldn’t give for another crack at that cock. Hint, hint.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” she pouted playfully, then gave him a wink. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  “Yeah,” he said, with no interest in his voice whatsoever. “Let me know when Lou goes on the warpath.”

  “I will. Expect somethin’ in the next 24 hours.”

  “Okay.”

  “Jack?”

  “What.”

  For the first time since we’d walked in the door, Sloane looked one hundred percent sincere – and a little scared. “Be careful.”

  He was silent for a few seconds, then nodded. “I will.”

  Then, at the turn of a dime, she was back to the same old Sloane. “Speakin’ of which, don’t forget your guns,” she said in an Ellie May Clampet voice. “And don’t blow your dick off. I wanna use it again one day.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Jack said as he picked up his pistol headed for the door. I did the same and followed behind him.

  “A word to the wise, Miss Fiona,” she called after me.

  I looked back at her, anticipating something that would make me want to draw my gun on her – and trying to preemptively calm myself down.

  “What?”

  “Whatever he might have done to you… he’s a good man. Trust me when I say that.”

  I stood there, taken off guard and stunned into silence. I couldn’t find it inside me to say anything.

  “Stupid, and stubborn, and stuck-up, sure – ” she continued.

  “Love you, too, Sloane,” Jack said sarcastically as he opened the door.

  She laughed and blew him a kiss.

  As I walked out into the night air, the last thing I heard before I closed the door was, “Don’t let a dick that good go to waste, honey! Keep it in good workin’ order for me!”

  64

  We got back to the car and motorcycle before I let loose. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Yeah,” Jack sighed. “I know, I know.”

  “You were married to her?”

  “Don’t judge.”

  “If that’s what you’re into – ”

  “WAS into.”

  “ – then it makes me doubt your taste.”

  “So?” he snapped. “You hate my fucking guts now, so what the fuck do you care?”

  He had me.

  Why did I care?

  Because I did. I didn’t want to – and I sure as hell didn’t want him to know that – but I did.

  And it was bothering the hell out of me.

  I dropped the topic and went with the only important one. “Can we trust her?”

  “Like I said: to act in her own best interest – yeah. Beyond that, we should handle with extreme caution.”

  “So what now?”

  “Back home,” he said, and got on his bike and fired up the engine.

  I have to admit, as I got back in my car, all I could hear in my head was Sloane’s voice:

  He’s a good man. Trust me when I say that.

  Unfortunately, I could also hear her say, Don’t let
a dick that good go to waste!

  Which fucked with my head – and other parts of me – all the way back to Richards.

  65

  Lou

  It was shapin’ up to be a boring night at the Veils. Hell, with Jack out of my way and everything coming up roses, it was almost fucking boring these days. No more planning, no more scheming, no more excitement.

  ‘Be careful what you wish for’ – isn’t that what they say?

  I was sitting in my office smoking a stogie when my cell phone rang. On the screen was a name I hadn’t seen in forever.

  “Sloane,” I grinned. “What’s shakin’, Sugar Tits?”

  “A whole lot more than usual, Lou. I got the girls done – you should see ‘em.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re gonna get the chance, cuz I’m gonna be in town in about four hours.”

  “Really,” I said, my internal alarms going off. I liked Sloane, but I knew she still carried a bit of a torch for Jack. Yeah, she’d left him because he’d turned into a pussy do-gooder, but still. Sloane was one smart bitch. I never trusted her further than I could throw her, and considering what had happened the last couple of weeks, there was no fuckin’ way I was trusting her now. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “We gotta talk, Lou,” she said. “The shit’s gonna hit the fan, and I’m sellin’ umbrellas.”

  “Well come on down,” I said with a puff on my cigar. “I’m always in the market for a good umbrella.”

  66

  She showed up as advertised four hours later, a couple hours shy of closing time. Peanut knocked on the door, then held it open wide for her.

  Holy shit – she was like a biker’s wet dream.

  “Lou,” she said with a big smile as she walked on in.

  “God damn, Sloane,” I said as I hugged her. “I might just have to hire you as a dancer.”

  She laughed. “You can’t afford me, Lou.”

  “Probably right. Let me look at you – shit, darlin’, you’re lookin’ good.”

  “And you’re lookin’ handsome as always, you silver-tongued devil,” she said in that Southern drawl that always drove me wild. The face and body drove me even wilder.