Midnight Obsession: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 4

by Olivia Thorne

  But she hadn’t just come here on a social call. I was playing along, yeah, but I kept that fact first and foremost in my mind.

  “How’s Tyler?”

  “Tyler’s just fine – but I didn’t come to talk about him.”

  Okay, so we were getting down to it.

  “Sit down,” I said, gesturing to the chair opposite my desk. “Want a drink?”

  “Why the fuck not, wash the dust out of my mouth.”

  “It’s a long way to come from Phoenix,” I said as I poured us two glasses of scotch. “How’d the hell you make it in four hours?”

  “Cuz I didn’t come from Phoenix, I came from Joshua Tree,” she said. “And guess who I was meetin’ there.”

  I handed her a glass. “I hope it wasn’t who I think it was.”

  “Like my momma said, ‘Hope in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first.” She clinked her glass against mine before taking a sip. “Mm, that’s gooood, Lou.”

  “Only the top shelf for you, darlin’.”

  “Amen to that.”

  I sat back in my chair. “But tell me more about your meeting.”

  “So. Jack calls me up, says he wants to talk.”

  Shit.

  “And?”

  “And he shows up with a two-bit slut named Fiona. I understand she was a key part of your little change in management a couple of weeks ago.”

  I sat up a little in my seat.

  What the fuck is Fiona doing back in the picture?

  “Nicely played, by the way,” Sloane said. “I heard all about it through the grapevine. You’re a regular fuckin’ Abraham Lincoln when you get to speechifyin’. ‘Four score and seven years ago’ and all that shit.”

  “What did Jack and Fiona say?” I asked, perturbed.

  “Well, Jack had a little business proposition for me,” she said with a smile. “Seems he’s got it in his head he’s going to take you down.”

  I relaxed. “Good fuckin’ luck with that.”

  “Yeah, well, he wasn’t dumb enough to think he could do it on his own, which is why he asked for my help.”

  I locked eyes with her. “And what did you say?”

  “I said I’d think about it. ‘Course, about 30 minutes after he left, I decided to come have a little talk with you before I made any final decisions.”

  “Why the fuck would you help Jack? You’re not the sentimental type, Sloane.”

  “And Jack knows that. Which is why he offered what he was offerin’.”

  My internal alarms were blaring red.

  “Which was…?”

  “Entire control of Southern California,” she said, her eyes never wavering.

  “The Santa Muertes might have something to say about that,” I said drily.

  “Jack says his plan includes takin’ them down, too.”

  I laughed. Now that was funny. “Jack’s been smoking something, and you have, too, if you think that washed-up son of a bitch can take me on, much less the Santa Muertes.”

  “Normally I’d agree with you… except you missed somethin’, Lou.”

  The confidence in her voice gave me pause. I personally knew a dozen men who had underestimated Sloane. Thought that because she was a good-lookin’ bitch with tits out to here, they were smarter than she was. Those men weren’t breathing anymore.

  But I wasn’t about to tip my cards. “Oh yeah?” I asked contemptuously.

  “You found out Fiona was a PI from Los Angeles, sure. What you didn’t know was that she’d been turned out by the DEA 24 hours before you held your little pageant at the Roadhouse.”

  Shit.

  Shit, SHIT, SHIT.

  The problem was, I should have known… but a certain asshole had lied to me.

  A dead asshole, now. But still.

  FUCK.

  “Whatsamatter, cat got your tongue, Lou?” Sloane taunted.

  “Not at all. So the DEA is involved?” I asked, my heart beating faster.

  “Oh, I ain’t finished yet. When you let Fiona walk, she told Jack all about it… and now Jack’s teamed up with the DEA to take you and the Santa Muertes down, as long as he gets the club back.”

  Goddamn son of a BITCH!

  I stood up in shock, not even realizing I had done it.

  “Kinda need to work on your poker face there, hon,” Sloane said.

  I struggled to regain my composure. “That’s – that’s bullshit. The DEA would never let him walk.”

  “Well, according to Jack, they were willing to cut a deal. I doubt his pride would’ve allowed him to say he was a rat unless he really was a rat.”

  “What makes you think they’re not after you, too?”

  “Well, as Jack put it, if he wanted to get the drop on me, why the fuck would he tell me he’s workin’ with the DEA in the first place? I kinda believe him on that one.”

  My mind raced through the possibilities.

  Is the DEA really going after the weed?

  How would they get the Santa Muertes on that, though?

  Why would they let Jack walk?

  And did they cut the deal because of what happened two weeks ago?

  “So what are you telling me all this for?” I asked coldly.

  “Because I want to hear your counter-proposal.”

  “Counter-proposal to what?”

  “Like I said, control of the entire SoCal drug trade.”

  “Which you’re supposedly getting in exchange for what?”

  “Jack said he needs the Bastards’ backing. He said it might involve a head-to-head with the Santa Muertes, although if the DEA delivers on their part, it won’t come to that.”

  “You’re willing to go toe to toe with the Santa Muertes?”

  “With the DEA on my side and all of Southern California in the pot? I’m all in, Lou. You can bet the family jewels on that.”

  “I don’t understand – why the fuck would the DEA let you walk?”

  “Cuz Jack’s not tellin’ ‘em about me. He only cares about fuckin’ you.”

  Goddamn it…

  That sounded about right.

  That hypocritical, motherfuckering pussy – selling out to the goddamn DEA –

  “And what’s your take on all this?” I asked.

  She laughed. “To tell the truth, I think Jack’s about the losingest horse I could back. I don’t trust him to wipe the shit off his ass, much less take down you and the Santa Muertes. Be that as it may, the longest bets do have the highest payoffs.”

  “…but?”

  “But I’d be willing to trade a 50-to-1 longshot for a sure fuckin’ thing.”

  “Like?”

  “Talk it out with the Santa Muertes. Get me a slice of California – the Arizona border all the way to Riverside. Say, everything bordered by the 15 and the 40, ‘cept San Diego.”

  Riverside was a city an hour east of LA. The 15 and the 40 were Interstates. Altogether, she was talking about 40,000 square miles. “That’s a shit-ton of territory.”

  “Yeah, but San Diego and LA are the diamonds. I’m only askin’ for rhinestones, and you know it.”

  “Well, unfortunately, I don’t have any dealings with the Santa Muertes,” I lied through my teeth.

  Sloane then proceeded to knock out my teeth.

  “Well then how come they gave you those jackets for that fake-ass rip-and-run you organized three weeks back?” she asked with a coquettish smile.

  My guts went cold. “Who told you that?”

  “Jack. Seems he and that PI slut figured it out.”

  God DAMN it.

  Jack wasn’t dangerous enough to actually worry me… but it might be a good idea not to underestimate him.

  So I tested the waters on negotiations. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Santa Muertes are gonna give you shit, Sloane.”

  “Tell them it’d be in the best of both of your interests if they give me somethin’. Otherwise I’m gonna have to put my money on the underdog.”

  I glar
ed at her. “You walk in here and threaten me?”

  “I walked in here to make a deal, Lou,” she snapped. “If you can’t make that happen, why don’t you tell me who I should talk to instead of you, and stop wastin’ my fuckin’ time.”

  I grinned. I couldn’t help myself.

  What a woman.

  “Jack doesn’t know what he gave up when you guys split.”

  “Yeah, well, I never did like that ‘for poorer’ crap they make you say when you get married. It was supposed to be ‘for richer’ all the way.”

  “And taking the Riders legit wasn’t ‘for richer.’”

  “Damn skippy.”

  “What’s Jack planning?”

  She shrugged. “I have no goddamn idea.”

  “You want me to sell this to the Santa Muertes, you gotta do better than that.”

  “He wouldn’t tell me – said he needed the Bastards’ ironclad guarantee before he spilled the beans. All I know is it’s supposed to go down seven days from now.”

  Seven days?

  “Alright. Say I can get Arizona to Palm Springs for you – ”

  “Riverside, Lou.”

  “Don’t push it. What do I get for my money?”

  “You mean the Santa Muertes’ money, don’tcha?” she asked saucily.

  “Time is money, and I’m spending my time. So what do I get?”

  “I’ll tell Jack I’m in, and then I’ll pass along the entire plan to you. When the critical juncture hits, well… I’m afraid me and Tyler and the rest of the Bastards will just be off at spa day in Phoenix somewhere.”

  I grinned. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

  “Good. When’ll I hear from you?”

  “As soon as I talk to the Santa Muertes. Give me till noon tomorrow.”

  “Alright.”

  “Where are you gonna be staying?”

  “I think I’ll keep that to myself, Lou,” she said with a smile. “Sure would hate for somethin’ unfortunate to happen to me.”

  “Wouldn’t be from my end, Sloane.”

  “I hope not. Would tend to put a damper on our relationship. Pleasure doin’ business with you, Lou.” She got up from her chair and headed towards the door. “By the way – if you do end up talkin’ to Jack before you kill him, don’t mention I told you all that shit about the DEA. Don’t blow my cover.”

  “Dead men can’t tell secrets.”

  “Yeah, well, live ones can’t neither, long as you don’t mention it to them in the first fuckin’ place.”

  “You just want to make sure you can play both sides in case I don’t deliver.”

  “I am a girl who likes to hedge her bets, Lou. You should know that.”

  I chuckled. “We should hang out some time, darlin’. After this is all over with.”

  “You get me what I want, Lou… we’ll have ourselves a real good time,” she said with a smile and a wink, then walked out of my office.

  67

  I sat there thinking about it.

  There was no way the Santa Muertes were going to go for it. Even if Hector Reyes was on board – which was not gonna happen – there was no fucking way the Mexican cartel would give up even an inch of land to Sloane and the Bastards. Not without bloodshed.

  And the DEA!

  Deep down, I guess I’d always known it was coming. I just didn’t expect it to come through Jack Pollari.

  That fucking traitor –

  The DEA was going to do what they were going to do. Nothing I could do about that but wait for the hurricane to hit and hope to God I could weather it.

  But if Jack and Fiona

  (that fucking whore, I should have shot her when I had the chance)

  were a big piece of the DEA’s puzzle… well then, it made sense to get rid of that piece as soon as possible. Maybe then the puzzle couldn’t be finished.

  If I did it soon enough, there’d be no need to give Sloane an inch of land.

  And something told me that Sloane might be playing both sides of the fence. If that were the case, then taking Jack out early removed the possibility of her double-crossing me.

  In fact, if we hit Sloane, too, then the Bastards would fall apart. Tyler was a fuckin’ puppet. It was her hand up his ass, makin’ his mouth move. Without Sloane, he’d fall to pieces. Arizona would be easy pickins. I could do the Santa Muertes a solid, increase territory for sales, and remove a competitor, all in one fell swoop.

  Get Einstein a real goddamn lab… put it somewhere in Richards and have Peters keep his cops away from it… hell, we could be pushing a couple hundred pounds of crystal a week.

  All I had to do was get rid of Jack Pollari.

  I picked up my cell phone and dialed.

  “Yeah?” Eyeball answered.

  I could hear music behind him – the same tune that was thumping dimly through my office walls – so he was either somewhere in the club or outside having a smoke.

  Excellent.

  “Get in here. Who’s with you that I can trust?”

  “Cowboy, Chuck, and Wild Bill.”

  “Bring them, too. I got a little errand for you.”

  68

  Jack

  The first thing I did when we got back to the house was to call Kade and fill him in. I told him all about the meeting with Sloane and what we’d planned.

  There was a long silence from him before he answered. “I think from now on, you should check with me BEFORE you go do crazy shit.”

  “Next time, I’ll get you in on the ground floor. But for now, this is the play.”

  “Alright. How was it seeing her again?”

  “Spent more time keeping her hands off my crotch than actually talking business.”

  “So… same old Sloane.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. Same old Sloane.”

  To tell the truth, it had been complicated. She was looking good, although I wish she hadn’t got her tits done. I liked her all natural. But she was still the same sex bomb as always, and I couldn’t help but be affected by it. Sloane radiated sex like a car engine gives off heat on a hundred degree day.

  On the other hand, I remembered all the fights when I decided to take the club legit. All the screaming, all the plates thrown at me and smashing against the walls.

  And all the fucking manipulation. The act in the motel room had only been half real. Yeah, she wanted to fuck – she always wanted to fuck – but she wanted me under her thumb, too. That was the thing about Sloane: she wanted to control men, and she’d do it any way she could, whether through sex, money, or pure fucking intimidation. Knowing that took a lot of the hotness out of the situation.

  Plus, I’d had Fiona standing right there next to me.

  That was a weird situation. It was over between me and Fiona; I’d accepted that. After she found out I’d paid off Peters to stall Ali’s murder investigation, there was no way she’d ever touch me again.

  But I still wanted her. Sleeping with her last night had been a mistake… but god damn, what a way to go out. And now that I couldn’t have her, I wanted her all the more.

  That was the thing: I could have Sloane whenever I wanted, and that made her less appealing. I couldn’t ever touch Fiona again, and now she was all I could think about.

  Not to mention that what I’d had with Sloane wasn’t real. Or, at least, it was based on sex and drinking and drugs and blood money and power. That was fine when I was an outlaw biker – but once I decided I didn’t want those last three things, Sloane lost interest, and I saw how little we really had in common.

  But what I’d had with Fiona… it felt real. Realer than anything I’d ever had with a woman before.

  And now that it was gone, I felt like a part of me had been cut off, but I could still feel it. An itch I couldn’t scratch, a pain that wouldn’t go away.

  Back there in the motel room in Joshua Tree, I’d never had a clearer picture of what I wanted versus what I had. On one hand was Sloane – my old life, the one I didn’t want anymore. On the other hand was
the woman and the life I desperately wanted, but that was out of my reach forever.

  I hung up with Kade and went out and saw Fiona. She was sullen and withdrawn.

  That was another thing that stuck in my craw: she didn’t want me to touch her, and yet she was acting like a jealous bitch about Sloane. She was trying to hide it, but she wasn’t very good at it.

  At first I thought she was crazy, but then it started to make sense. After that night at the Roadhouse, when I hated her for lying to me, there’s no way in hell I would have touched her – but if I saw her with another man, it probably would have driven me insane.

  So maybe she wasn’t so crazy.

  Or maybe we both were.

  We were made for each other… with no fuckin’ way it was going to happen.

  I told her I was going to bed, and then I went in, got undressed, and laid there in the dark, unable to go to sleep. I could still smell her on my sheets from the night before. The scent of her body was driving me crazy.

  I thought about last night… the way I’d seen her out in the kitchen… how she’d looked… that wifebeater… her bare legs… the way she’d cried out when I first slid inside her…

  I was hard as a rock when my phone rang, startling the shit out of me.

  I checked the screen: Sloane.

  Strangely enough, my hard-on just about died on the spot.

  “No booty calls,” I said when I answered.

  “This ain’t a booty call, this is a ‘get your ass the fuck outta Dodge’ call.”

  I sat up in bed. “What?”

  “I just left the Seven Veils five minutes ago.”

  “Damn, you work fast.”

  “No sense fuckin’ around.”

  “Did he buy it?”

  “Oh, he bought it, alright. In fact, I’m a little afraid I oversold it. I could see the wheels turnin’ in his head. Now I’m gonna be lookin’ over my shoulder till you take care of business.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is, I asked for a finder’s fee for fuckin’ you over.”

  “…and?”

  “If Lou gets rid of you first, no need to pay the finder’s fee. And I’m guessin’ he’s thinkin’ there’s no sense fuckin’ around, too.”