Jester

by Lilly Atlas

  Jacko nodded and rose from his post. The metal folding chair he sat on, guarding Emily, wouldn’t even be comfortable if it came with a free blow job, but such was the life of a prospect.

  “Hard to believe, ain’t it?” Jacko asked with a shake of his head.

  It was. But Acer had learned the hard way that even those you trusted above all others could shove a knife between your shoulder blades without blinking an eye. “Here’s your free lesson of the day, prospect. Never take anyone at face value. That way, when they stab you in the back, you won’t give a shit.”

  Jacko raised an eyebrow. “That what you do, man?”

  “It is now. Stop asking me stupid questions and take the fuckin’ break.”

  Jacko grunted and jogged out of the garage.

  Acer fisted the doorknob. He was a cautious bastard, and never let anyone slip past his defenses anymore. But he liked Emily. Not the way Jester did, thank God. The ass beating that would accompany any interest shown in her direction was not worth it. But he felt brotherly toward her. She reminded him of someone from his past, someone sweet and kind, someone who life handed a raw deal when she didn’t deserve it. Was it the same for Emily?

  He tugged the door open and peered inside the closet-sized room. Emily sat on the cot, her back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Her normally gorgeous baby blue eyes were bloodshot and bore the dark rings of the sleep deprived. The combination gave her an appearance of exhausted devastation.

  The sound of the metal chair dragging across the concrete floor rivaled nails on a chalkboard, as Acer pulled it into the room. The screeching seemed to pull Emily out of whatever daze she’d been in and she scurried back on the cot until she hit the wall, reminding him of a frightened wild animal cornered by a predator.

  He turned the chair around and straddled it, sitting with slow, controlled movements so as not to spook her. “Emily, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  Wide, terrified eyes full of suffering and regret stared back at him.

  “Wh-what do you want then?”

  “The truth. The story, whatever the fuck happened that led you to spy on us for Snake.” Shiv trusted his judgment when it came to reading people’s bullshit, which was why he’d ordered Acer to feel her out.

  She looked down at the cot and rubbed a nonexistent spot. Just when he was going to ask her with a bit more force, she spoke.

  “My parents died when I was eighteen.” Her voice hitched but she took a breath and continued, not making eye contact with him. “My brother, Johnny, was thirteen at the time.” Tears trickled down her cheeks as words poured from her mouth, so fast he almost had trouble keeping up with her.

  “Please,” she whimpered after telling him about her brother’s drug problem and entanglement with the Grimm Brothers. “You have to believe me. I could never do anything to put Jester in harm’s way. I lo—”

  Acer pursed his lips and waited for her to continue, but she seemed to catch herself and, with a shake of her head, she changed statements.

  “Snake will kill my brother. He’s all I have left. We’ll leave town, immediately.” She’d moved to her knees on the cot and folded her hands together in front of her chest. Now she looked him straight in the eye. “Please,” she choked out again. “I’m begging you, Acer. I don’t expect Jester—or any of you—to forgive me for my part in this, but please help save my brother.”

  Acer straightened in the chair and replayed her story in his head. Maybe she told the truth. His gut was about eighty percent sure it believed her, but it had failed him before.

  “Acer,” she pleaded. “You have to help me.” Her tears had slowed, but she remained in a kneeling positing on the cot. Nothing about her in this moment indicated deception.

  He sighed. “Here’s the thing, hon. I have one loyalty here. To my club. And right now my club thinks you sold them out. Even if they believe this story, even if it’s completely true, your brother is the reason for this whole clusterfuck. The club won’t—and I can’t ask them to—put lives at risk to save him.”

  Her face crumbled before his eyes, and sobs were torn from her throat. He didn’t move to comfort her. That wasn’t what he was there for, even if a large part of him wanted to. But he waited until she settled before rising from the chair.

  “For what it’s worth, Emily, I think I believe you and I will pass on everything you shared with me.”

  She turned her face up and the intense sadness he saw nearly made him promise to save Johnny. It wasn’t his decision, and if the club didn’t want to take the risk, he’d support that.

  “What—” She cleared her throat. “What about Jester? Will you tell him?”

  Acer cracked out a sharp laugh. “Jester’s passed out, spooned around an empty bottle of Jack.”

  “What?” Emily gasped and stood. “But he needs to be able to function tomorrow.”

  She looked sincere. It wasn’t easy to fake the panic that crossed her face. No matter the reason she entered Jester’s life, Acer believed she loved his brother.

  “His hatred for Snake trumps a hangover anyway. He’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about Jester.”

  Emily nodded and sat back down. Defeated was the only word he could think of to describe her.

  He lifted the chair to avoid a repeat of the bone jarring screech and opened the door. He hadn’t taken two steps out of the garage when he encountered Striker standing in the parking lot, the glow of a cigarette in one hand and a half-full bottle in the other.

  “Your woman know what you’re out here doing?”

  “Nope. And there’s only one possible way she could find out, so I’m coming after your ass if she gives me grief.”

  Acer chuckled. Lila rode them all constantly over their smoking. She might as well try to convince them to sell their bikes while she was at it. The chance of either happening were about the same. Slim and none.

  “Talk to me.” Striker commanded as he handed off the whisky.

  Acer took a drink and told Emily’s story, including how he was pretty sure she was in love with Jester.

  “Shit.” Striker snatched the bottle back and took a long drink. “You believe her?”

  Acer nodded. “I think I do.”

  “Christ, if this is true, that girl’s been through hell the last few weeks.”

  Acer held his hand out for the bottle. The burn of whisky was a welcome distraction from the mess of the day. “Not to mention that she could have sold us out at any time, but she put her ass on the line to protect us. She got on her fucking knees, cried her face off, and begged me to save her brother.”

  Striker tossed his cigarette down and ground it under the heel of his boot. “Reducing her to begging like that?” He shook his head. “This shit turns out to be true, Jester will kill Snake for that alone.”

  “You gonna tell him?”

  Striker snorted. “Man’s dead to the world right now. He’s not ready to hear it yet. One more mind fuck and he might not be useful tomorrow. It’ll keep until after we hijack the money.”

  “What about the brother?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. Goddamn junkies.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

  Being VP of the MC was a position filled with burdens and tough decisions. Acer didn’t envy Striker one bit.

  “I guess we can snatch him when we take the money. What’s one more body in the van?”

  Acer stared at his VP in shock. “You do realize all this shit is his doing, right?”

  “Yeah, brother, I do. But that’s Jester’s woman in there, and if he has any chance of fixing this fucked up mess, saving her brother would go a long way toward getting it done.”

  “Well, look at you, shooting heart shaped arrows. You sprout wings and I’m outta here.”

  Striker took one last hit of the whisky and held it out to Acer. “Fuck you.”

  Acer laughed and palmed the bottle.

  “I’m heading in. I’ve wasted enough time with you when my woman is in there, wa
rm and willing. Sorry you gotta make do with your hand tonight, brother.” Striker laughed as he walked toward the club house, his form disappearing into the dark of night.

  “Good luck getting any from your woman smelling like a tobacco factory.”

  “Shit,” Striker muttered and Acer laughed.

  With one last glance at the door that kept Emily at bay, he turned and sauntered toward the clubhouse. He hoped his gut was right about Emily. Last time it failed him, life-altering horrors followed shortly after.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Emily paced the minuscule room, growing dizzy from the frequent changes in direction. The walls seemed to inch closer with each passing minute.

  How much time had passed since she’d been locked in here? At least a prospect had brought her some pizza last night. She couldn’t stomach it, but it was a mild comfort to know they didn’t plan to starve her.

  Under normal circumstances she would have found the irony of being the No Prisoners’ prisoner amusing. Normal was so far gone she might never experience it again.

  Were they at the mountain pass yet? Was Johnny there? Was there a chance they would try to help him? “Please save him.” No one was around to hear her, but maybe putting the plea out into the universe could somehow make it come true.

  She loved Jester. Despite all the vile hatred he threw at her yesterday, she loved him, and the idea of him believing she betrayed him was almost more than she could stomach.

  The door few open and smacked against the wall. “Oh my God,” she cried. She backed up to the wall and stared at the colorful face of an unhappy Colt. The bruises weren’t as grotesque as they had been immediately after the fight with Jester, but it was still obvious he’d been in a physical altercation not long ago.

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose. He bore the glassy, wide-eyed look of a man who wasn’t playing with a full deck. “Um, Colt, what are you doing in here?”

  He smirked and stepped into the room. “You’ve caused me a lot of problems, bitch.” He moved closer and was now mere inches away. “But I’m a nice guy. I don’t want you to be all alone in here, so I figured I’d stop by and see if maybe I could help.”

  Emily tensed, her heart pounded, and the space in the room shrunk to the point of suffocating.

  “What happened to…um…to the prospect outside the door?”

  “Had to take a piss. I got here just in time.”

  The smell of sweat and booze assaulted her as he stepped close enough to her that a piece of paper would have had a hard time sliding between them. In her effort to remain untouched by him, her shoulder blades and elbows ground into the wall so hard there’d be bruises tomorrow.

  If she made it to tomorrow.

  Emily counted to ten in her mind, forcing herself to remain still until an opportunity presented itself.

  Colt placed his palms on the wall, on each side of her head and pressed toward her. Before he had the chance to make contact, Emily rammed her knee into his groin. The combination of his forward momentum and her upward thrust was powerful. A high-pitched wail flew out of his mouth and he collapsed to the floor clutching his family jewels.

  A second of triumph flared in Emily before she shoved his writhing form away, sprang through the door, and slammed it closed. The padlock that had held her captive lay on the floor, so she secured the door, ignoring Colt’s screams of pain and hatred. Someone would find him eventually and he’d be their problem to deal with.

  She sprinted toward her car, relieved to find her purse sill lying in the dusty gravel. The clock on her phone read eleven fifteen. If she hauled ass, there was a chance she could make it to the mountain pass in time to help Johnny.

  Everyone was in position, awaiting the Grimm Brothers. Jester’s blood hummed with nervous energy and the anticipation of seeing Snake’s face when the bastard realized he’d been had. Visions of taking the man apart had been playing in his mind since the moment Jester saw him with Emily. Each man had been briefed on the possibility of increased threat and they were all poised and ready for action.

  He forced himself to push Emily out of his thoughts. He needed one hundred percent focus on the task at hand. Glancing around, he scanned all the places No Prisoners were hiding, loaded for bear, waiting to rid Snake of a fuck ton of money.

  The day was almost unbearably hot. Directly overhead, the sun beat down, blistering everything in its path. Jester and the other No Prisoners were drenched with a salty sheen. Dust blew with the soft breeze, and mixed with the sweat to form a layer of clay-like muck on any exposed skin.

  Jester, Striker, and Acer stood behind the cover of two black panel vans. One of the vans—the one supposed to contain nine hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars of drugs—really held three poor sweltering prospects and their weapons, ready to burst out at the precise time.

  “You good, Jester?” Acer asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Sorry about how it all went down with your girl, brother,” he continued despite Jester’s glare, which would have made a lesser man back down in a heartbeat. “I’ve been thinking—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Acer,” Striker said. “I hear pipes.”

  The rumble of motorcycle pipes grew in the distance. Striker whistled, alerting the men that the Grimms were nearing.

  “Fuck, it’s hot,” Acer complained to no one in particular.

  “First time you ever sweat, trust fund baby?” Jester asked, grateful for the normal banter to take the edge off his anxiety.

  “Nah man, sweat my ass off when I banged your sister.”

  Unable to hold it in, Jester laughed. “That was a fail. Don’t have a sister.”

  “Worth a shot.”

  The noise grew deafening and Jester peeked through the front side windows of the van. Within seconds, ten Grimm Brothers rolled into the mountain pass with their own van in the rear position.

  Interesting, they’d expected Snake to arrive with more men. He was a paranoid bastard and should have been traveling with an army.

  As soon as the engines cut, Jester gave the signal, and twenty No Prisoners rose from their cover along the mountain, training their assault rifles on all the Grimm Brothers.

  Jester, Striker, and Acer slipped from their spots behind the van as the doors opened and the prospects spilled out with their weapons directed at the Grimms.

  The Grimms were out manned, and outgunned, but that wouldn’t prevent Snake from striking. They stood, weapons readied on each other for a full minute before someone finally spoke.

  “Send him out,” Snake called back to the van behind him.

  Jester exchanged a look with his VP. Neither trusted the slimy creature and both were prepared to shoot if necessary.

  A guy who looked like he been to hell and hadn’t yet clawed his way out, stumbled from the back of the van. Jesus, he was a kid, looked no older than twenty. He was skin and bones, trade mark of a junkie and bore multiple bruises. His legs wobbled as he staggered forward.

  “Jesus Christ,” Acer muttered. “Is that—”

  Jester shook his head and spoke in an equally low tone. “Shut it.” He called, “What the fuck is this, Snake? We don’t give two shits about your prisoners.”

  Snake snarled. “I was supposed to leave this at Emily’s house for her. Last part of our deal. You know, since she ratted on you. Told me you’d be waiting to ambush me back at our clubhouse.”

  Shit. She told the truth?

  Despite the fiery heat of the day, Jester’s blood froze in his veins. His trigger finger twitched. One more millimeter and Snake’s worthless life would be over.

  “Hold your shit together, Jester. Bullets start flying and we’re just as dead as they are.” Striker warned at an almost imperceptible volume.

  “Turns out she was a lying bitch. Guess that means I can dispose of him.” Snake’s jaw was clenched and anger gave his lifeless eyes a spark. He aimed his gun at the bloody man just as a cloud of dust rose up and moved toward the group. Everyone froz
e as a dark pickup truck rolled to a stop.

  “Snake?” A man completely hidden from view called out from the bed of the truck.

  Not being able to see him meant they weren’t able to shoot him either. What the fuck was Snake up to?

  “What you got there, Casper?”

  “A little something I think you’d love to have,” he called to his president.

  A body fell from the tailgate and landed on all fours on the ground. The same voice gave her instructions in a low but still audible tone. “Walk around to the side of the truck. Don’t try anything heroic, girlie. I’ll put you down before you get two steps away.”

  Jester watched, not breathing as a filthy and disheveled Emily rounded the truck and came to a stop next to the driver’s door. In a knee-jerk reaction, he lunged forward. Striker and Acer both grabbed him, their muscles bulging as they fought to hold him back.

  “I told you to hold your shit together. You charge out there you’ll be dead in two seconds and that won’t do shit for Emily.” Striker’s voice was hard and authoritative.

  Jester locked eyes with Emily. The panic and fear in her gaze refocused him. “I’m cool. I’m not gonna charge.” He shook off his brothers’ hold but kept his attention on his woman. How the hell had she escaped from the clubhouse?

  “Well, well, well. It’s a real party now. Welcome, Emily. I was just telling your lover here how much of a lying bitch you are.” He stepped closer to Emily and every fiber of Jester’s being itched to take him out, but Casper would put a bullet in Emily for sure.

  When Snake reached Emily, he slid an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. Body rigid, her gaze pierced Jester’s.

  Snake leaned in and whispered something to her. She shook her head and struggled against him, but the effort was useless. He towered over her in height and strength, holding her next to him as easily as if she were a small child.

  Snake lifted his weapon and pointed it directly at Jester.

  Despite everything that had happened today, he’d take the bullet if it would spare Emily, but it wouldn’t.