by A. C. Bextor
He’s intrigued.
“Last time we had a chat, you weren’t so excited about runnin’ any shipments of mine. That changed?”
“With experience.” I nod. “I was a kid the last time we met. You got what you needed from me back then. I’ve grown up.”
“Looking at us both, I’d say we both have. You’ve got just as much grey as I do.”
“Fuck you,” I return and fake a grin.
Sitting up straight, I wink to the waitress who places a new round in front of us. I wait for Hoss to finish gazing at her with a sickening, lustful look before continuing our conversation. As she turns away to make an escape, Hoss’ hand darts out, reaches under her barely there skirt, and she jumps, then yelps as his hand squeezes the flesh of her ass. She doesn’t turn around before rushing away as fast as she can.
Once Hoss looks back at me, a sinister smile takes up his face.
He hasn’t changed.
“I need money,” I lie again. “I need a woman,” I lie, yet again. “Figured you’d help me with both.”
I don’t have a want or need for either, but if it keeps him believing my feigned interest, so be it.
Smiling, Hoss takes a drink, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says, “Good-looking fella like you sure as fuck doesn’t need help with the ladies, I’m sure. Money, I get, though. What do you need?”
“What do you have?” I ask, hoping he’ll offer me a position. Any spot with his organization which would assist me in getting inside.
His answer blows my hopes to fucking Hell.
“I don’t have a lot of trust,” he states with confidence. “Don’t know that I’ve got any reason to trust you.”
“I’m sorry, Hoss. Other than my good upbringing, I’m all out of references.”
“What are you lookin’ to me for? If I gave you a spot in the club, you’d have to start off as a prospect, ya know. Can’t imagine a man your age takin’ kindly to a bunch of coked-up kids tellin’ him what to do all the time.”
I sit in contemplation, mentally waging war on what I would or wouldn’t consider doing for Emma or Casey, a child I’ve never met and have no proof even exists.
“Tell me what you can offer, how’s that?” I ask.
“To be honest, I’m not sure you fit the bill for what I’ve got. All those years ago, you left, remember? I offered you a chance to be someone, and you turned it down.” He laughs in thought before finishing, “I don’t think you had the stomach for it back then.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“I’m still not sure, although it would be good to have someone outside helping me. Someone who isn’t hell-bent on making rank, or getting a piece of the club profit, or trying to prove themselves to me.”
He’s close to breaking, so I prod. “You have my interest.”
“I need someone who doesn’t make it a priority to kiss my ass, if that makes sense.” Taking another pull from his beer, he taps his fat fingers on the table, looks around the room, and then drags his eyes to mine. “Need a supervisor of sorts.”
“Supervisor?”
“Yeah, someone who can watch my kids run product on the streets for me. These young prospects are worse than horny, hormone-ridden teenagers with A.D.D. When you tell them to do somethin’, they come back and it’s not been done because they saw somethin’ shiny. You know what I’m sayin’.”
Hoss hasn’t entered the next generation gracefully. I’m willing to take anything offered that keeps me officially out of his club.
“I wouldn’t be a club member,” I advise.
“No. You’d get no cut of profit, no privileges inside, but you’d be on my payroll.”
“What kind of payroll might that be?” I ask, still not caring about the money.
“A fuck lot of it.”
Before accepting, I order another beer to give myself a few seconds to think. Men like him don’t take, “Give me a few days to think it over,” as an answer. My decision must be given now or never.
Hoss is a smart man, although experience has taught me not to trust him, I’ve no choice but to take him at his word, though. The smart ones aren’t the threat, anyway; it’s the unknowns who hold all the playing cards. Once inside, I’ll get a grasp on who’s who and I’ll know if I can maneuver around them as I’d need to in order to get to Casey.
“Got a lost love of yours livin’ back at the clubhouse, by the way,” he says on a shrug. “In case you’re interested in rekindling any old pussy flames, I’ll tell you now she’s taken.”
“Who might that be?” I ask, stalling for time to think.
“Dee Dee Richards. We call her Tag now, though, being as she’s tagged just about every member coming and going for the last fuckin’ decade.”
“I was friends with her and her little sister for a time, but she isn’t someone from my past I choose to remember with love.”
“Good to hear, ‘cause she’s Hanger’s ol’ lady. The state she’s in, she probably won’t remember you anyway. I mean it when I say she’s been busy over the years. Every time I see the woman, she’s got a bag of blow in her hand. She snuffs that shit as if she needs it to breathe. Not sure why Hangar wants her, other than he likes to share, if you know what I mean. Half the time, it’s not his cock she’s ridin’. He passes her around to the others when the mood strikes him. Pity, too, ‘cause she was a good-lookin’ woman for a time. Sucks cock like no other I’ve known, and I’d know ‘cause he lets me have her when I want her.”
Jesus Christ, Dee Dee. What have you done?
“Who’s Hangar?” I ask out of sheer curiosity.
“My VP. He’s a little green, I’ll admit, but he’s done enough to earn him the position. I’m not so sure the boys respect him or fear him. But as long as they do exactly what he tells them and he’s telling them exactly what I want done and when, I don’t give a fuck.”
“Puts you in a tough position if they don’t respect him, Hoss. He’s the VP,” I point out with limited interest.
“There’s history between him and me. We’ll leave it at that.”
Referring back to Dee Dee, I tell him, “Maybe he loves her.”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “Loves to beat her. Loves to watch others have a turn at her.”
“Jesus,” I utter under my breath, but am able to hide my concern.
“When I see her around, I’ll tell her you’re comin’. Then I’ll warn her to back off just in case she decides to get any ideas.”
“So, we have a deal here then?” I ask.
Standing up, leaving no money on the table for the tab or a tip, Hoss grabs his jacket from where he tossed it as he arrived. “We’ll see, Max. What I have may be too much for you, and I’ll need to know right the fuck up front before we bond over a deal.”
“Let me know,” I return.
“Will do.”
Chapter Five
Late Tuesday morning is when I finally make my way up Em’s long driveway. When I called her last night and told her I had news I felt she’d want to hear, she explained that her husband was out of town. He won’t be back until Friday. I didn’t ask where he’d gone, but will admit I did feel a pang of relief knowing I wouldn’t have to witness the two of them together.
Although she’s married and I have no rights to her, my memory mocks me like a jealous teenage boy. I knew her first and had I not gotten involved with her sister, things could’ve been different. She could’ve been mine.
Since hearing Tommy’s comment that he thought she’d been waiting for me to come back, I hadn’t let myself think about it. Truth be told, if I had a type, Em would be it. Not only is she beautiful on the outside, but inside she’s pure and untainted by this world’s disgust and darkness.
She and her sister have nothing in common.
Hearing Hoss refer to Dee Dee and the way she’s lived since I left home made me sick. I couldn’t get my mind to stop imagining Hangar and those men doing aggressive and vile acts without her consent. Although
my interest isn’t with her right now, my thoughts still are.
Pulling up near Em’s entrance, the gate opens and I guide my way through. I had assumed the pipes from my Harley had given me away. But it isn’t until I slowly make my way to the house that I note several surveillance cameras set up and lined along the fence, house, and the three-car detached garage that sits next to it.
As I park my bike in front of the garage, I watch as Emma makes her way across the long porch, which wraps around the house. She was waiting for me to arrive.
She stops near a post and leans her body against it. Her tight-fitting tee and yoga pants, along with her dark hair put up in a makeshift ponytail, give away her morning routine. She’s been working out.
I remember it was always important to Em that she stay in shape. Even as a teenager, she would tell me she was afraid she’d take after her mother and end up growing old alone, eating bon-bons and Oreos in front of the television while watching game shows and soap operas. Then she’d get really fucking pissed off when I’d stop over looking for Dee Dee and find her doing exactly that.
“Max, I don’t think your bike could be any louder, could it?” she asks while smiling and crossing her arms over her middle before she takes her eyes off me to look down.
The Emma I used to know was always shy around me. Since she’s grown up and I’ve noticed the changes in her, I still see marks of her younger self come through.
“I hadn’t realized my sweet Em lived in a palace fit for a king and his queen,” I explain, stretching my arms out, insinuating the expanse of her house and the vast land which surrounds it.
The all brick, rich-landscaped home sits on the end of an empty circle. The closest neighbor is so far away they wouldn’t be able to hear a dog barking in the distance. It brings me small relief to know her husband has enough sense to arm the place with video cameras. It doesn’t matter, however, that in the back of my mind I think about being the one lucky enough to love and protect her.
Rolling her eyes at my stated sarcasm, she asks, “Are you coming in to say hello, or are you going to stay out here and play with your bike?”
“Smartass,” I utter, putting my helmet down and taking off my jacket, leaving it on the seat behind me.
I don’t miss the way her eyes roam my chest, neck, and face or how her cheeks turn pink in response. She’s looking at me the way I looked at her as she sat across the table from me. The look is reflective, curious, and a little hopeful.
“How long have you lived here?” I need to break her concentration before I lose mine and find a reason to forget why I’m really here.
“We haven’t been here a year yet. It needs me to make it a home.”
“Kids?” I ask, pointing to the large yard. “You’ll have it filled in no time.”
She doesn’t answer. The look that passes over her face is saddened. I don’t say any more as I follow her around the porch and to the front door.
Once we’re inside, I scan the large expanse of the kitchen first. Black and silver appliances sit on top of hardwood floors. The island and other countertops are done in black granite. Oak cabinets surround the area, and from the ceiling hang wine-glass holders.
The living room is a large, open area. The floor is covered in what looks to be expensive rugs, and above those is black leather furniture with a few throw pillows haphazardly tossed around. The tables are adorned with glass vases filled with flowers and some showcase sculptures of naked men and women carrying baskets and fruit.
Pointing to one, I ask, “Did you grow up and develop a taste for this, or is this your husband’s preference?”
“Oh, that’s all Greg,” she answers. “He really enjoys art. Actually, he collects it, as well. We have paintings put away that we haven’t hung yet.”
“That’s a pity. Greg doesn’t have an eye for art. He should rethink his collection,” I answer quietly, looking at the sculpture of a man cloaked in grapes as a woman sits wrapped beneath him, tangled in his legs. I’m sure this shit means something to someone, but to me, it looks completely ridiculous. I’m not into art, though. What the fuck do I know?
“Rethink it because it’s not Harleys, helmets, and leather?”
“No, because it’s ugly as fuck.”
She releases a small laugh at my comment. “You have quite the opinion, don’t you?”
“I don’t know anything about this shit, Em. But I do know I wouldn’t have imagined you living like this.”
As she tilts her head to the side, she asks, “How would you have imagined me living?”
“On a farm,” I answer honestly. “I figured you’d have animals.”
“That was always Marie.” She sighs. My chest feels her hesitancy. “Your sister would’ve had a small zoo in your basement had your parents let her.”
“Yeah, she would’ve.”
My focus moves to the floor remembering Marie and all her antics. Some of those ridiculous antics included Emma.
“Sit, please,” she orders, taking a seat on the black leather couch across from where she’s offered me to do the same.
“I’m kidding about your place, Em. You’ve done well. I’m happy for that.”
“Thank you,” she replies.
“It’s good, Em. You’ve found someone cultured,” I tell her as I continue to take in her home. Bookcases stacked to the ceiling showcase hardcover classics, law books, and a few family pictures scattered throughout. No children are present in any of them.
“Greg comes from a long line of family lawyers. He’s expected to act as they do.”
Raising my eyes, pointing to the statue, I ask, “Pretentious?”
“Well-defined,” she corrects without amusement.
“As long as you’re being taken care of, he can be whatever he likes.”
Her eyes don’t look confident. “He does. I’m well cared for.”
Biting my tongue to avoid insulting a man I’ve never met, I situate myself in a similar chair across from her and start to explain my purpose for being here. “I met with Hoss.”
Her eyes grow wide and her face pales. “You did what?”
I see the fear in her eyes, so I try to calm her fraying nerves. “Em, I can’t help you or Casey if I don’t know what’s inside. He’s the only man who can offer me an invitation to see things for myself.”
“Invitation?”
“Yeah, Em. Invitation. What’d you think?” I ask, but don’t wait for a response. Her eyes are too wide, so I know she’s processing. “Did you think I was going to knock on their door and they’d send Casey out with her little bags packed?”
I smile, and she sneers. “Don’t make fun.”
“Emma, this is going to take time. I’ll do whatever I can to help, but you’re going to need to have some patience.”
Shaking her head back and forth, she expresses her denial, “This isn’t a good idea. Maybe I can call James.”
“Won’t matter, Em. This shit runs dirtier than James can handle. Besides, I called him.”
“You did? You didn’t tell me this.”
“I’m telling you now.”
She raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to continue. “And?”
“And I got the run-around. You make him nervous.”
She laughs out loud, as if I just made a joke. “How in the world do I make the police department nervous? That’s ridiculous.”
“Not really. You’re an unknown, the one they’re smart enough to fear. If they’ve hidden anything or acted inappropriately at all, it would be you, the unsuspecting housewife, who’d find out.”
“That’s not why I make him nervous,” she tells me.
“This is going to piss me off, isn’t it?”
“No, not at all. When I asked for help, he asked me out.”
I feel my face warm. This pisses me off.
“When I reminded him he was married, and so am I, he still thought he and I were a good idea.”
“Piece of shit,” I mumble.
“It’s okay. I mean, we’re still friends.”
Rolling my eyes, I comment, “Some adulterous buddy you have there, Em.”
Pursing her lips, her face gets serious again. “I don’t think you should get involved.”
“You involved me when you asked for help. It’s too late anyway. I’m already in.”
“Shit,” she mumbles.
Leaning forward in my seat, I rest my elbows on my knees and focus on her face to keep her attention. “I have an intro to Creed tonight. If this goes well, I could have a job. If it doesn’t go well, we will rethink the plan.”
Now she looks completely defeated and we’ve only just started.
“I don’t have a plan, Max,” she states, standing and putting her hand to her forehead. “What I have is a niece who needs my help, law enforcement in this shit of a town that refuses to acknowledge what’s happening in it, and the only person I think I can count on is meeting with the man who’s to blame for all of it.”
“I don’t think Hoss is the biggest problem,” I inform. “If rumor is true, there’s someone else leading this, and that someone is big. Hoss is no one in comparison to who we’re really talking about.”
She gasps. “What?”
“Hoss isn’t running this,” I tell her simply.
Visibly confused, she asks, “Then who is?”
I don’t tell her any more than is necessary; she’s already strung too tight. “That’s what I’m going in to find out. But let me do it. You sit back and do nothing more than you’ve already done.”
“Max!” she exclaims.
“Emma, damn it. Let me work this first.”
Watching her take a step toward me, I stand to meet her in the middle of the open area between us. The soft music playing throughout the house is our only company.
Her hand gently touches my chest as do her words when she says, “A young girl is out there all alone. She’s my niece. I don’t know who else to ask, but if it means you’re out of it, I’ll find someone else.”