Road to Nowhere: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blacktop Blades MC) (Beauty & the Biker Book 1)

Home > Other > Road to Nowhere: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blacktop Blades MC) (Beauty & the Biker Book 1) > Page 7
Road to Nowhere: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blacktop Blades MC) (Beauty & the Biker Book 1) Page 7

by Paula Cox


  She cleared the table as he loaded the dishwasher, then he showered and dressed. When he got out, she was waiting, dressed in the same clothes she had on yesterday. He frowned; they were going to have to do something about that, and soon.

  When they arrived at Doc’s practice, Desert Sun Family Medical, they were immediately whisked to the back. One of Doc’s nurses drew Quinn’s blood without so much as a glance at Quinn’s bruised and battered appearance. That raised Arsen’s eyebrows. He made a mental note to ask Doc if he’d given the woman a head’s up of what to expect. He’d hate to think that the nurse wouldn’t have commented on Quinn’s condition otherwise.

  Quinn was a trooper throughout the procedure, though she gripped Arsen’s hand tightly at the prick of the needle.

  When they arrived at the clubhouse, she was his shadow. She didn’t interfere, but she also didn’t let him out of her sight as he went about his business. It was normal, routine stuff, so he didn’t mind . About ten, he picked up the baggie with two tablets he’d gotten from the Advocates and waved his arm, calling her to him. He was going to the plant to test the pills.

  They went out the back of the clubhouse and walked the couple hundred feet the large prefab metal building. The Blacktop Blades empire also included a legitimate business enterprise, Botanical Bath Beads, or B3. Arsen had figured out a long time ago that the best way to conduct illegitimate business was to cover it with a legitimate one.

  She followed him into the large building full of busy, large, stainless steel machines, tended by men she recognized from the clubhouse yesterday. He turned right just inside the door and trotted up a set of steps to a small glassed area on a mezzanine. She followed him into the room and her eyes widened in amazement. The room was full of expensive looking machines, none of which she recognized, so she stood by the door. Arsen moved about the room with practiced ease.

  He entered the quality control lab and started the gas chromatograph with an attached mass spectrometer heating as he prepared the samples by removing a small section of each of the two tablets and liquefying it, being careful to keep the samples separate. By the time his samples were prepared and inserted into the autoloader, the machine as ready. He selected his detection profile and started the machine working.

  He pulled out a chair and sat down, kicking another across the floor to her. “You might as well sit down. Unlike on television, this takes a while.”

  They sat for almost an hour, Arsen occasionally checking on the machine as it whirred and sighed. He tried to engage her in conversation a couple of times, but finally gave up when she would either not answer or simply nod or shake her head.

  The attached computer bleated, and he spun in his chair and typed a moment. “That’s one,” he said, pushing his chair back. “Seven more to go. It’s almost lunch time. We’ll come back and check on this later.”

  She followed him back to the clubhouse where he headed straight to the bar, and she blinked in surprise when he popped up with a pair of sodas. He handed one to her, opening the other for himself. He moved off, taking a pull from the bottle before flopping into an oversize leather chair and putting his feet up.

  She sat down beside him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice low.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Their cans were about half empty when men and women began arriving through the back of the clubhouse. Only moments after that, food began to appear, being placed on three large tables. “Time to eat,” he said standing and walking to the tables in a room adjoining the kitchen.

  The tables were large enough to seat at least twenty people each, so there was plenty of room to spread out. She sat down next to Arsen, while Zane and Michelle sat down on the other side.

  “How are you this morning?” Michelle asked.

  “Better,” Quinn replied, staring at the table, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

  The four people close enough to hear her looked at each other. “That’s good to hear,” Michelle continued.

  When she didn’t answer, Arsen filled in. “Her name is Quinn Nettleton.”

  “Nice to meet you, Quinn.” Michelle said. Quinn continued to stare at the table and Michelle looked at Arsen.

  “I think she just needs some time. She’s trying.”

  Toni sat a plate of broiled chicken with a side of squash in front of them. All members and old ladies had to work for the club in some manner, and Toni’s was helping with the clubhouse and meal preparation. It was tradition in the Blades that lunch was provided by the club during the week. When the clubhouse was built, they were well outside Tucson, with little option for grabbing a quick lunch. Especially once the plant was established, the club decided to feed the members working in the plant. In the twenty years since, the city had grown closer to their door, but the tradition continued and nobody wanted to change it. It was a time of fellowship and laughter all the members enjoyed.

  “Thank you,” Quinn said softly as Toni placed her plate in front of her.

  Toni paused, then realized what Quinn must have said. “You’re welcome.”

  She said nothing else during the meal, keeping her eyes on the table as she ate, something Arsen made note of. She really closed down in the presence of others, even more so if there was a large group, like now.

  “You have the results back on the…sample?” Zane asked, obviously changing what he was going to say at the last moment.

  “Running them now. I still have to do the comparisons, but if the samples hold, I can tell from the number of spikes. Those tabs are loaded with shit that shouldn’t be in there.”

  Zane nodded. “About what we expected.”

  “Yeah. It pisses me off they are trying to pass that shit off as ours.”

  “I’m surprised it took them this long.”

  “Yeah, I guess, but it still pisses me off.”

  Zane grinned. Arsen was the club’s chemist. He had designed the production process for the MDMA, and he took great pride in the fact their molly was safe, pure and consistent. “Maybe we should change the dye concentration, so it looks different.”

  “No. We’ve built our reputation on that color blue and those stamps. I don’t want to change that. We’ll give the Advocates some time to find out who’s counterfeiting, then we’ll pay them a visit and explain a few things to them.”

  Zane nodded. While Arsen designed their products and oversaw production of both their legal, and less so, products, he ran the business side, making sure their suppliers were paid and their permits were in order. As far as the world knew, the only thing that came out of their production facility was bath oil beads, soaps and salts, and it was his job to keep it that way. If anyone of a legal persuasion suspected something different, Zane disabused them of that notion.

  “Just tossing the idea out there,” Zane said.

  “I know. I’d already thought of that, or changing the stamps, but damnit, those are ours. If we change it now, the assholes that are copying us will just change with us. So we change again. Then pretty soon, nobody will know our stuff because it could be anything. Better to find out the source and give them the option of having their nuts cut off or not.”

  Zane grinned. “I know what I’d choose.”

  Arsen grinned back. “Yeah, but not everyone is as smart as we are.”

  ***

  Quinn watched as Arsen worked in the lab. It was close to six and the last of the results had come in from the machine. As he worked, he explained what he was doing, but the only thing she got from it was he ran four samples of each pill to reduce false positives, the pills were of slightly different makeup, and they weren’t pure. The rest of it went right over her head. When he was finished he asked her to wait for him outside.

  “Jason? Arsen. I’ve finished my analysis on the two tablets you gave me.”

  “What do you have?” Jason asked, his voice tinny sounding on the phone’s speaker.

  “First off, they are nowhere close to a 150 hit. One was 72 milligrams and the ot
her was 60.”

  “That’s good to know. I can use that. Anything that will make you grow two heads, make you shit your asshole out, your dick fall off, anything like that?”

  Arsen snorted . “No, but both samples had methamphetamine and ketamine contamination, and one of the samples had a synthetic cathinone in it.”

  “In English?”

  “In English, this isn’t ecstasy, it’s a fucking drug cocktail. This was from just two samples. The dosage is all over the place and it’s loaded with containments. Because their quality control sucks, you don’t know what you’re getting. If I had a larger sample size, who knows what other shit I might find. Doses too. There is no way in hell I would I take this. Shit, I wouldn’t give it to somebody I hated. This is crap, even for street drugs.”

  “On a scale, if yours is a 10, where would you put this?”

  “Three to four.”

  “Okay,” Jason said. “I’ll put the word on the street. Some people are going to be pissed off. I might be able to use that to track it back to its source.”

  “You find out who, and where, I’ll take it from there.”

  “You got it brother. It continues to be a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Arsen smiled as he hung up the phone, then opened the door. “My day is done. You ready to go?”

  Quinn looked at him, then smiled slightly. “Yes.”

  Chapter 14

  They stopped at Walmart on the way home. Arsen purchased four pairs of pants and shirts, underwear, and when he saw her looking at them, a few basic makeup items. Quinn was obviously uncomfortable while inside, holding his arm tightly, sticking close to his side, and glancing around nervously as they moved through the store.

  When they arrive back at his house, she had relaxed again, and he wondered how long it would be before she would be able to be calm around other people.

  They fixed dinner together, Arsen searing pork tenderloin in Jalapeño pepper jelly, chili powder and lime, while Quinn prepared corn on the cob, seasoned with butter, garlic, and chili powder.

  As they ate, she loosened up a little bit at a time. When they were alone, just the two of them, she let her guard down a little, but the only time she seemed to truly relax was here, in his house. “You did better today. I think you said, what, ten words to other people,” he teased.

  She looked at her plate. “I’m sorry.”

  He grinned at her. “No need to apologize. You’re doing better all the time. I know you’re trying.”

  She smiled, her eyes still down. “This is the only place where I don’t hear the demons.”

  “Demons?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know what else to call them. The voices…the voices that make me afraid. Not real voices, not like someone talking, but…” She paused, then shrugged.

  He nodded. “I know those demons.” She looked up, her brow wrinkled as her mouth twitched into a quizzical look. “I was married,” he said.

  “Where is she now?”

  “Dead.”

  “How?”

  “Murdered.” He watched as her eyes widened in surprise. “The club has a place up in Summerhaven. That’s on Mount Lemmon, about an hour from here. We were up there for the weekend and…” He let his voice trail off, not wanting to think about it. The wound was healing, but talking about it made it ache.

  “How long?”

  “About eighteen months.”

  “Was her name Holly?”

  He breathed out a single chuckle as his lips twisted. “Yeah. You heard that, huh?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He stood up and picked up his plate. “They say time heals all wounds, and I guess it does. I don’t miss her as much now as I did, but some wounds heal slower than others.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “More than you can know.”

  She nodded. She could see that in him. In the past couple of days, she had glimpsed the man. Strong, determined, unwilling to take a lot of shit, but also kind and gentle. She wondered what it would be like to be in love with, and be loved in return, by such a man. Holly must have been a lucky woman.

  “Did they find who did it?”

  “No. Whoever it was killed my mom, dad, and wife. A triple homicide. No clues, no nothing, but I have my suspicions. If I ever find proof, they’ll pay dearly.”

  She stared at him. So much loss, yet even with all he had suffered, he still was able to reach out and rescue her. “What happened?”

  He looked at her. The club knew the details, and the police, but he rarely talked about what had happened that afternoon. Like her, he found talking about it only made the pain worse, so he bottled it up, taking the dark mass that was his pain out occasionally to examine it, then locked it away again. The darkness was getting smaller, but slowly, so very slowly.

  He began to load the dishwasher so he didn’t have to look at her. “We were in Summerhaven to celebrate Dad’s fiftieth birthday and to get out of the heat for a while. Mom and Dad, me and Holly. The cabin was low on sugar and Mom wasn’t sure there was enough for his cake, so she sent me to the store. I fucked around while I was there, shooting the shit with Winston. When I got back…” He paused as he clamped down on his emotions. “When I got back about an hour later, Dad was lying outside, Mom and Holly were inside. All three were shot in the head.” He paused again, then gave her a sad smile. “I’ve often wondered what would have happened if I’d been there. Could I have saved any of them, or would I be dead too?”

  She stared at him. His eyes had gone distant as he talked, and she could tell he was once again in Summerhaven, seeing the bodies of those he cared about. “I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes focused on her again. “Yeah, thanks. It was tough for a while. It’s how I ended up as President of the Blades. I was the VP at the time, and Dad was grooming me to take over from him, but I didn’t realize it would be so soon.”

  “You said you know who did it?”

  “I know who I think did it, but I don’t have any proof.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have no proof, and telling them what I suspected would open a can of worm I could never put back. If I find out I’m right, though, the Blades will take care of it on our own.”

  He was keeping something from her; she wasn’t sure what. She dropped it. It was none of her business and she didn’t want to upset him.

  “What do the Blades do?” she asked.

  “What do you mean? Don’t forget your antibiotic.”

  She opened the bottle and shook out two capsules, but left the pain pills. She was still hurting, but nothing like she was, and the pills made her feel loopy. “The factory. Your obviously make something. What?”

  He grinned at her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said as she washed the pills down.

  “Try me.”

  “Soap.”

  “Soap?”

  “We make soap, bath oil beads, and bath salts.”

  She stared at him a moment, blinking. “You’re serious.”

  “I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “That’s how the club makes its money?”

  “That’s it. We make and distribute high-quality scented soaps, beads and salts, and sell them over the internet.”

  She smiled at him. Arsen, and the Blacktop Blades, were just full of surprises. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would have never guessed.”

  “What about you? You’re obviously comfortable on a bike.”

  She felt her smile fading. “Yeah. I was in a club.”

  “Which one?”

  “Desert Riders, out of Flagstaff.”

  “I’ve heard of them. They moved weed didn’t they? What happened to them? They went dark about a month ago.”

  “Yeah. I was the VP’s old lady. We weren’t married, but…”

  “We have a couple of members with old ladies
like that. Is the reason they went dark and you were walking on the interstate related?”

  Though she didn’t answer, she didn’t have to. She went pale, her pupils dilated, and she began to shake. As he watched he could see the walls going back up as she began to retreat back into her private hell.

  “Hey! Hey!” he barked, snapping his fingers. “Quinn! Don’t go there, Quinn! Quinn!”

 

‹ Prev