A PRICE TO PAY: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Zoey Parker

  That, or maybe I'd even inadvertently told the truth when I told Jewel the Mancusos could buy off the cops and judges. Again, Chucky hadn't been able to confirm or deny that. But if it was true, they wouldn't need to waste time and manpower combing the highway for us. They could just let it drop, and if Jewel ever did come forward—which she hopefully wouldn't do—they could deal with her then.

  I wanted to believe there was more that Jewel could tell me to help me find Jester, but I was positive I'd gotten everything I was going to get from her. Part of me wondered if I just wanted to convince myself otherwise because she was so fucking hot.

  I'd caught myself starting to think about what she might be like in bed, or even out of it. Most civilian chicks who'd been through this kind of nightmare would have completely fallen apart, but she'd kept it mostly together despite the one panic attack, and she'd even managed a joke last night. That was impressive.

  Then again, I'd been in prison for seven years with no one to fuck but myself. I hadn't even treated myself to some tail at my coming-home party. I was probably just hornier than I wanted to admit and it was making me drool over the first hot girl I spent any real length of time with. Once this was over, I told myself I'd find someone slutty to lay for a night or two just to clear the cobwebs. After that, I'd probably never give Jewel another thought.

  Yeah, an unexpected voice in my head smirked. Right. Sure. You'll just forget all about her. Just keep telling yourself that, stud.

  While Jewel was still asleep, I snuck out of the room, closing the door gently behind me. I walked back to the main office, keeping one eye on the door to our room at all times. Before I reached the door, it opened and Chucky poked his head out.

  “Restful night?” he asked.

  “Hardly,” I chuckled. “See anything weird?”

  “Nope,” Chucky said. “No cops, no Mancusos. Only other folks we had show up last night were a couple newlyweds, too drunk to make it home from a party. Good thing they pulled in here 'fore they caused a wreck or somethin'.” He hocked and spat, then dug his pinky in his ear and twisted it around. He pulled it out, looked at it expectantly, grunted with disappointment, and wiped it off on the seat of his overalls. “So now what, boy? You stayin' on the lam with the girl?”

  “Nah,” I said. “Looks like the stuff with her has blown over. I'll get her home and then go try to finish this thing with Jester.”

  “An' that's it?” Chucky asked disbelievingly. “You ain't never gonna see her 'gain after that?”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “Why? You gonna call dibs if I say yes?”

  Chucky cackled. “Yeah, maybe 'bout twenny years an' a hunnert pounds ago,” he said. “Naw, it's just when you been runnin' a motel as long as I have, ya start to get a sense of these things, is all. I saw you two show up, an' yeah, clearly there was some kinda shit hittin' some sorta fan an' things was tense. But there was more to it between you, too. Almost gave ya a room with one bed 'steada two, that's how sure I was.”

  “Well, good thing you didn't,” I smirked, thinking of what a bummer it would have been to spend the night on the fucking floor. Suddenly, I remembered something. “Hey, by the way, do you know if Jester's got any places up in Milwaukee? Clubs he's a silent partner in, or fronts to launder money, that kind of stuff?”

  Chucky scratched the stubble on his chin, thinking it over. “Well, nothin' I've heard of,” he mused. “He mostly sticks to Chicago fer that stuff, since it's easier for 'im to keep an eye on.”

  “Shit,” I said. “That's what I thought. Thanks, though, Chucky.”

  “Now, that fella Maggot, he's a different story,” Chucky added. “You remember him? Nasty little piece a' work, always nippin' at the heels of Jester an' them other Mancusos an' tattlin' between 'em every chance he got.”

  Maggot again. That was interesting. “What about him?” I asked.

  “Nothin', 'cept that settin' up shop in Milwaukee was his thing. Soon as the Mancusos promoted that slimy fucker to soldier 'steada piss-boy a couple years back, it was all he could talk about. He was gonna open a place for 'em in Milwaukee, he was gonna make 'em a shit-pot fulla money, an' blah blah blah. They finally gave 'im some scratch to set up a nightclub up there. The Flytrap, he called it. Pretty much ran it into the ground. Fuckin' asshole.”

  If Chucky hadn't been Chucky, I think I might have actually kissed the bastard. Finally, a solid lead. Whatever Maggot had that Jester wanted, he'd almost certainly stashed it at The Flytrap. Maybe I could find a way to grab it and use it to draw Jester out.

  I quickly considered my options. I needed to get to Milwaukee, but I couldn't drag Jewel along with me. But time was against me since Jester's men might already have passed us on their way to Wisconsin, so if I took the time to bring Jewel back to Chicago, there'd be no way for me to beat them there and I'd be back to square one. So unless I could snap my fingers and magically transport myself to The Flytrap...

  That gave me an idea. I couldn't make myself suddenly appear there ahead of Jester's boys, but I could do the next best thing.

  “Chucky, can I use your phone?” I asked.

  “Go right ahead, boy,” he replied. “I'll keep an eye on yer room.”

  I walked into the office, picked up the phone, and dialed a Wisconsin number. The War Reapers' main chapter was based in Chicago, but there were a few smaller chapters scattered around the Midwest. There wasn't one in Milwaukee, but Madison had one. Their chapter weren't as badass as ours was, since Madison wasn't particularly rough territory. Still, we'd been on a couple runs together years ago, and they'd usually do us favors when we asked them to.

  A voice answered, “Snoops here.” I remembered Snoops as a chubby, cheerful Reaper with a long red beard and a cartoon dog tattooed on the side of his neck.

  “Hey, Snoops, it's Rafe Logan. Dunno if you remember me, it's been a while...”

  “Sure, I remember you!” Snoops exclaimed. “You went on a run with us about nine, ten years ago, right? You were the guy who did all those crazy stunts and shit. Man, we still talk about that!”

  You guys must get pretty bored, I thought, smiling. “Yeah, that's me. Listen, I know we ain't talked in a while and I hate to hit you up for a favor...”

  “No problem, pal!” Snoops said. I couldn't remember if all of the Madison War Reapers were this chipper. I guessed that they might be. They spent most of their time riding around on weekends and doing charity runs. The most hardcore thing they did was deal dime bags of pot to college kids.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I fuckin’ appreciate it. There's a nightclub in Milwaukee. It's called The Flytrap. Can you ask your guys to ride over and stake it out, just until I get up there? Keep your patches hidden and try to stay out of sight. It shouldn't be more than a day, tops.”

  “Yeah, that doesn't sound like it'd be a problem,” Snoops said. “What kinda stuff are we looking for?”

  “Gangster stuff,” I answered. “Specifically, anything that looks like someone coming to hold up the place and steal something from it. I realize that sounds pretty vague...”

  “Nah, I get the picture,” Snoops said. “I'll grab a couple guys and head out there now. If we see anything, we'll give you a call. Is this your number?”

  Fuck, I thought. I forgot to pick up a burner phone. I'd better get on that after I drop Jewel off. “I'm between phones right now,” I told Snoops. “I'm gonna grab one in the next couple hours, though. When I do, I'll give you a buzz.”

  “Cool. See you soon,” Snoops replied. “Oh, and say hi to Bard for me, okay?”

  I felt a stab of guilt as Snoops hung up. He'd naturally assumed that this was official Reaper business, and I hadn't said anything to make him think otherwise.

  Still, I was relieved. With Snoops and the Madison Reapers holding things down up there, I could afford to take my time a bit.

  I walked out of the office and headed back to the room to wake up Jewel. Just a quick ride back to Chicago with her, and I could get back to getting rev
enge.

  Hell, I was feeling so good, maybe I'd even take her out to breakfast first.

  Chapter 14

  Rafe

  I grabbed the duffel bag from the room and we rode Rosie up the road to Ham's Diner. It was a squat brick building that used to be a filling station and convenience store until the bigger gas companies drove it out of business in the '90s. When it re-opened as a restaurant, the owner had erected a giant fiberglass fist over the door holding a knife, fork, and spoon. Since then, weather and road dust had steadily soiled the fist, and now it was almost black with grime.

  Lots of people told Ham he should take the ugly thing down, but after seven years upstate, I was happy to see that he'd kept it up anyway. When I used to come here before my stretch in Potawatomi, I'd fantasize about the big fist coming loose and squashing some asshole who left without paying his bill. The thought still made me smile.

  The rusty old bells above the door jangled as I opened it for Jewel. I usually wasn't big on the whole chivalry routine, but it looked like she was finally starting to chill out, and I figured she'd appreciate a nice gesture or two. Part of me was still half-tempted to ask for her phone number after dropping her off, but I knew that was crazy. Since meeting me, she'd been chased and shot at. I doubted she'd be into going on a date with someone who reminded her of all that.

  Besides, I thought, since when am I the kind of guy who asks women out on dates? I'm usually more the random hook-up type—those are a lot less complicated. There isn't much room for romance in an outlaw's life.

  Still, now that the bullets had stopped flying, it was nice to think about.

  I followed Jewel into the diner where the smells of bacon and coffee filled the air. Ham stood behind the counter like he always had, wearing his stained apron and his little paper hat. He used to love playing old doo-wop songs from the '50s on the shitty little radio he kept in the kitchen, and from the sound of it, that hadn't changed. Between crackling bursts of static, the Big Bopper was chortling about the wiggle in Chantilly Lace's walk and the giggle in her talk. There were no other customers.

  Ham was a short man with greasy black hair and arms so hairy it looked like he was wearing a thick brown sweater under his shirt. When he saw me, he spread his arms and smiled, revealing every pearl-white tooth all the way back to the molars. “Rafe!” he exclaimed in his thick Greek accent. “You're free at last! It's been too long!” He stepped out from behind the counter, hugging me.

  That was the funny thing about getting released from the joint. The days that followed started to seem like a never-ending parade of greetings from people who were thrilled to see me and claimed they'd missed me a lot, even though they'd never visited me while I was inside. I'd seen guys get pissed about that before, but not me. I just found it funny.

  “Good to see you too, Ham,” I said.

  “And who is this lovely lady?” Ham asked, eyeing Jewel. “You meet her in prison? Was she a guard who succumbed to your charms, eh?”

  Jewel smiled uneasily, and I remembered that this was the second time she'd heard someone mention that I'd been in prison.

  I tried to deflect the tension with a joke, raising my eyebrow at Ham. “You pegged her for a prison guard, Ham? You'd better get those eyes checked before you start mixing up the salt with the sugar.”

  Ham laughed. “Same old Rafe, always with the jokes! Go on, have a seat. I'll be over in a minute to take your order.”

  I led Jewel over to a booth next to the window and we sat down across from each other. Out of habit, I took the seat facing the door. The Big Bopper gave way to The Five Satins crooning about what happens in the still of the night.

  Jewel's eyes were filled with curiosity as she looked at me. Now that the immediate danger was over, she seemed a bit bolder. I tried to pretend I didn't notice by studying the menu, even though I still had it pretty much memorized from seven years ago.

  “So why did you go to prison?” she asked suddenly.

  “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die,” I answered glibly. I hoped she'd laugh and that would be the end of it. Instead she just kept looking at me.

  “What? You've heard that one already?” I asked, trying to be charming.

  “Many times,” she replied. “I still might have found it funny if it weren't for the giant gun you've got in the duffel bag.”

  Goddamn it, I thought. So that's what she was doing last night when she stubbed her toe. I should have guessed. “So you saw that, huh?” I said, trying to sound casual. “Must have freaked you out.”

  “A little,” Jewel answered. “Not as much as being shot at and rescued by some random biker, though. Come on, tell me why you went to Potawatomi. I want to know.”

  “Why?” I shot back. “So you can feel superior to me when you go back to your nice, safe office job?” I wasn't in the mood to discuss this, least of all with her. I knew she wouldn't understand anyway. She was a secretary, for Christ's sake.

  Suddenly, I didn't feel like asking for her number anymore. All I wanted to do was forget about breakfast and take her back to Chicago so I could get on with what I had to do, but we'd already sat down and Ham was bringing us cups of coffee.

  Jewel looked hurt for a moment, then smiled. “I almost asked if you really think I'm that kind of person,” she said, “but then I remembered that you know absolutely nothing about me. Which is kind of the point, because I want to know more about you. That's all. I'm curious about the person who saved my life. How long were you upstate?”

  I sighed. It looked like I'd have to talk about this shit whether I wanted to or not. “Seven years,” I answered. “Got out yesterday.”

  Her eyes widened. “Seven years? Jeez! What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” I said flatly. “I was innocent. End of story.”

  I expected a look of disbelief from her, but instead she nodded encouragingly. “That's horrible. What did they say you'd done?”

  Before I could answer, Ham walked up to our table. “Do you know what you want to order?” he asked. I could have kissed the bastard for interrupting at that moment.

  “Yes, I'd like an omelet with Swiss cheese and green peppers, please,” Jewel said. “With hashbrowns on the side, and a glass of grapefruit juice.”

  “Coming right up,” Ham said, taking her menu. “And for you, Rafe?”

  “Flapjacks,” I said. “Heavy on the syrup.” In Potawatomi, we'd never gotten enough packets of syrup to put on the dry, powdery instant pancakes we got most mornings. I'd often had to trade with the other guys for extra. I'd once even agreed to break another inmate's jaw to keep him from snitching on someone else, just for four little packets of the fake maple crap.

  Was that the kind of story Jewel wanted to hear? How much could she ever really want to get to know someone like me?

  Ham took my menu and returned to the kitchen where on the radio, The Skyliners were whining that they didn't have anything if they didn't have me. Somehow, I doubted it.

  “I guess the food in there was probably terrible, huh?” Jewel asked.

  I thought about the sound the snitch's jaw had made when I smashed it against a concrete step. Half of his teeth had been busted out, and his mouth was wired shut for over two months.

  “You've got no fucking idea,” I grunted.

  Before she could ask anything else, the door jangled again. A man and a woman in their early thirties walked in, bleary-eyed, with their arms around each other. Even though they looked hung over, they were still laughing and joking. They paused for a kiss every few seconds. I figured these must be the hard-partying newlyweds Chucky had mentioned this morning, which made sense. Most people who stayed at The Hidey-Hole Motel ended up coming to Ham's for breakfast the next morning. It was one of the only restaurants off this exit.

  Ham greeted them and pointed them to a table near ours. The woman looked at me and Jewel, then leaned over and whispered something to the man. He looked at us too and nodded, and they laughed again.

  Great,
I thought. They're probably giggling about asking us for a foursome or something. Getting hassled by a couple of horny married drunks is the last thing we need right now.

  Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and looked out the window. Chucky was crouched in the bushes, trying to get my attention without being obvious about it. Jewel hadn't noticed yet, and neither had the man and woman.

  I raised an eyebrow at him and shrugged. What could he want?

  Chucky pointed at the married couple, looked into my eyes intensely, and mimed a gun with his hand.