“Take all the time you need.”
“Do you have wi-fi?”
He nodded. “Sure do. Password’s go home.”
I laughed. “Cute. Uhhm. Can I get. Can I get a Budweiser?”
I reached for my purse. He looked at me like paying was an insult. “On the house.”
“Let me just--”
“It’s on the house.”
I raised the bottle. “Thank you.”
I sat down at the same table Navarro and I had shared a few days prior. After logging onto the wi-fi, I began sipping my beer and searching through the documents of my old case. In no time, I was buried in legal facts and needed another beer.
The unmistakable sound of approaching motorcycles made my heart race. Expecting Navarro, Pee Bee and maybe more, I tore my eyes away from my laptop and peered through the window.
Much to my surprise, Whip, Panda, and several other Savages pulled into the parking lot.
Fuck.
My eyes shot toward Pete. I felt the need to warn him, just like Navarro did. “Savages coming in,” I shouted.
He shifted his eyes toward the back door. “Go out the back.”
I shook my head and reached for my recorder. “I’m staying.”
I was almost sick from the excitement. I turned on my recorder, wedged it between the cushions of the booth’s seat, and then slumped in my seat.
Whip, Panda, and two others came through the door and walked directly toward the bar.
“You got some of our shit,” Whip growled. “And we need it back.”
“I’ll give it to you when go, and you need to go.” Pete pointed toward the door. “Now.”
“We’ll leave when we’re good and god damned ready,” Whip responded. “Give me our shit.”
I considered getting my phone and after sending Navarro a text message, recording video of the debacle. So far, I had gone unnoticed, and drawing attention to myself was the only thing that prevented it.
Standing directly in front of Pete, but on the other side of the bar, Whip checked over each shoulder, and without any further warning, thrust his head into Pete’s face. Instantly, blood burst from Pete’s nose. After Whip threw a few sucker punches, he climbed over the bar and began to rummage around.
While he did, one of the other bikers – a tall lanky man with long strands of filthy hair – scanned the bar. Upon seeing me, our eyes locked.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Whip handed Panda his pistol and then a shotgun, which I suspected was what Pete used to protect the bar. My heart sank at the thought of Pete not being able to defend himself – or me for that matter – from the Savages.
The lanky biker pointed toward me. “See this?”
Whip’s eyes met mine. “I’ll be god damned. That’s Crip’s girl. The one that lied in court this morning.”
Please. Let me live through this.
That’s all I ask. Don’t let them kill me.
Let me tell this story.
He shoved his knife into his pocket and began walking toward me. Two of the other three men followed.
I considered doing a lot of things, but only managed to do one. I turned toward him, blocking my right arm from his view. And, like a true journalist, I swept my purse and the recorder onto the floor. My only hope was that he didn’t find them, leaving the recorder to capture the event in its entirety.
I stood up. “He’s on his way. We’re meeting here.”
It was all I could think of, and was well worth a try.
He stepped directly in front of me, stopped, and eyes me from head to toe. “Better get this over with before he shows up.”
Before I could react, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me to his side. A sharp pain shot through my scalp and along my spine.
I looked down, saw the toe of his boot, and stomped my heel into it as hard as I could.
He spun me around. “You little bitch,” he seethed.
His hand slammed against my face. It wasn’t a slap. Not even close. He hit me.
With his fist.
I stumbled, but didn’t fall. “He’s gonna kill you,” I said through my teeth.
He pulled off my blazer, ripped my shirt, and pulled my bra up over my boobs. I fought against him at first, but it did little good.
His hand shot up my skirt and ripped off my panties.
“Don’t you dare rape me,” I said clearly and concisely.
I wanted the recorder to catch every word.
“Shut the fuck up. We’re all gonna get some of you, you lying little whore.”
He shoved me against the booth, bent me over, and pulled my skirt over my hips.
I refused to become a victim. Shedding a single tear wasn’t an option. While the sound of the other men’s voices either cheered him on or claimed their place in line, I felt his filthy skin against mine. The smell of gasoline, beer, and filth filled my nostrils, and I fought not to vomit.
I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes. I mentally struggled with him, the other, and what – if anything – I could do. Eventually, my mind gave up and drifted away.
While he pounded himself into me, my body may have been in the bar with him, but my mind and spirit were far away.
On a ski slope in Wyoming.
So high I could almost touch the clouds.
Chapter Sixteen
Nick
Sitting in jail wasn’t something I ever yearned for. Each time it happened, however, it caused me to appreciate the small things in my life that I had been taking for granted. It seemed having them stripped away – along with my freedom – was a bit of a reality check.
“So she didn’t even hesitate?” I asked.
“I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya.” Pee Bee grinned and shook his head. “She just kinda volunteered.”
I shook my head. “She’s a good woman.”
“Best one I ever met. Smart bitch, too. She was tellin’ me about laws and what they could and couldn’t do to you. I’m tellin’ ya, she’s got her shit wired tight.”
I leaned against the work bench. “I’m thinking about taking her to dinner. Doing something nice with her. Letting her know how much I appreciate it.”
I didn’t need Peeb’s approval, but I wanted it. I took a drink of beer and waited.
“You should probably take her to dinner and then throw her some dick. Maybe instead of fuckin’ her in the shop, you should do it at your house.”
I chuckled. “You think dicking her at the shop’s a bad idea?”
He shook his head. “Givin’ her some cock in the shop ain’t no big deal, Crip. But chicks want dicked on somethin’ soft every now and again.”
“On something soft?”
He finished his beer and got another from the fridge. “A bed, in the yard, on the couch. Hell, even in the back seat of a car. They like it. Take her out to eat and then give her some cock on somethin’ squishy.”
“Something squishy.” I laughed. “I’ll look into that.”
Pee Bee – which stood for Pretty Boy – was a former USC football player. Although he had a college education, one would never really know it from talking to him. It was obvious that the mainstream idea of an education was not what he walked away with during his tenure as a student.
His heart was huge, his devotion to the club was undeniable, and he was – if anyone was – my best friend. He was a very handsome man. So handsome, that immediately following college he was chosen to be on a reality television show.
From time-to-time, he was recognized by someone in a bar – generally a woman. The conversations seemed to always start with do I know you from somewhere, and ended with Pee Bee balls-deep in yet another stranger.
Obtaining his advice on what women wanted seemed out of place. But he was one of the few men I trusted.
His eyes dropped to his boots for a moment. After some thought, he met my gaze. “I need to do somethin’ for her too, just haven’t decided what.”
“Why’s that?”
�
�Told her if she got you out of jail, I owed her one. A big one.”
“Well, aren’t you fuckin’ sweet.” I said sarcastically. “Just remember--”
I paused, and tried to decide whether or not to continue my thought. Before I had a chance to do so, he read my mind.
“I ain’t gonna touch her.”
I nodded. “Last fuckin’ thing I need is some split-tail hangin’ around. She’s uhhm. She’s pretty entertaining, though.”
My phone beeped, indicating a text message had been received. Although I had a phone, I never really used it, nor did I have a desire to. If someone was sending me a text message, it was generally regarding being late for a meeting.
With no meeting scheduled, I was left believing the text must have been from Peyton.
Eager to see what she wanted, I grabbed my phone. After opening the text message screen, I saw one unread message.
But it wasn’t from Peyton.
It was from Pete.
Sabages got thr girl htfu bring forepower. Whip here now Sorry they got my gun
“Motherfuckers!” I screamed. “God fucking fuck…”
“What?”
“I’m gonna kill…I’m going to kill all those motherfuckers!” I kicked the bench, sending shit flying everywhere.
My vision blurred, my ears started to ring, and I began to shake. “Fuuuuuuuuck!”
“What?” Pee Bee shouted.
I’d brought her into a world that she had no business in, and if something happened to her, it was on my shoulders.
I fought against the rising lump in my throat and tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I turned toward the safe. While I poked the tip of my finger against the keypad, I tried to explain the text to Pee Bee.
“Text’s from Pete. Can’t tell for sure, but it looks like the Savages are at Pete’s bar. They’ve got Pete’s gun, and they’ve--”
I swallowed heavily, pulled the door of the safe open, and grabbed two pistols – one of which was fitted with a silencer.
I pursed my lips and inhaled a long breath through my nose. My hands began to shake. “They’ve got the reporter.”
“Motherfuckers.” He grabbed the silenced pistol. “If they even touch her, I’ll kill the whole fucking club.”
You’ll have to beat me to it, Brother.
Chapter Seventeen
Peyton
More than anything, I wanted to scrub myself with soap and water. I needed the filth washed away. All of it. I feared I would never be clean again, regardless of how hard I scrubbed.
“Let me call an ambulance,” Pete said. “Please. You need…you need to be checked out.”
I fastened my bra and tried desperately to button my shirt, but there were no buttons. My eyes dropped to the floor. Scattered about, the small pieces of faux shell littered the floor surrounding the booth.
“I’m okay.” I rubbed my hand against my swollen lip. “I’ll be okay.”
I knelt down, picked them up, and stood. I gazed blankly into the palm of my hand, wishing they were where they belonged. I noticed my torn panties on the bench where Navarro and I had been sitting just days before.
I clutched the broken buttons and reached for my panties. “Do you have a trash can?”
He nodded. “There’s one by the bar.”
I walked to the trash can and dropped my panties inside. When I returned, I crawled under the table and retrieved my purse. After dropping the broken buttons inside, I grabbed the recorder and turned it off.
“You’re in shock,” Pete said.
“No. I’m okay, really.” I wanted to rewind the recorder and make sure it recorded everything, but I wasn’t ready to listen to it. Not yet.
The sound of a motorcycle’s exhaust caused me to flinch. It seemed something I had yearned to hear only hours before had somehow become repulsive, and I didn’t like it. I peered out the window just in time to see Navarro and Pee Bee pulling up to the front of the bar.
“Navarro’s here. I uhhm.” I tugged against the sides of my shirt, attempting –to pull them together, but couldn’t. I held the two pieces of material, concealing my bra from sight, and then remembered I had worn a blazer.
I searched the floor, found my jacket, and slipped my arms through it. Remarkably, it was unharmed. Methodically, I fastened the buttons, yet still felt slightly undressed when I was finished.
I brushed the lint from my skirt and tossed my hair. “No ambulance. I’ll be fine. I need a drink. Maybe get us three beers?”
Navarro and Pee Bee came rushing in. Pete turned toward the door and met them halfway. Navarro ran past him, and came where I was standing. Pee Bee stood at Pete’s side and talked to him while Navarro looked me over.
I gazed at him, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, and then realized I didn’t have my heels.
He pressed his hands against my shoulders and held me steady. “What happened?”
I wished I didn’t have to tell him. Sooner or later he’d find out for sure, but I just didn’t want to have to talk about it. Not to him.
“Peyton,” he squeezed my shoulders in his hands. “What happened?”
“Four of them. Whip, Panda, Lowbrow and Taffy. They uhhm.” My eyes began to well with tears. I pointed to the portion of my shirt that the vest didn’t cover. I fought to swallow, eventually did, and continued. “They…”
I pointed to the trash can. “I put my panties in the trash.”
He pulled me into his chest and held me tight. “I’m sorry. Believe me, they’ll…I’ll make sure that they…” His voice faltered, then he cleared his throat. “Did Pete call an ambulance?”
“I don’t need one.”
He looked into my eyes. “You need to see a doctor.”
I nodded. “I will. I’ll get checked out. But I’m not calling the police. I don’t want them involved. I want…”
I wanted to tell him to take care of it, but couldn’t put the responsibility on him to do so. I wished he would volunteer, and explain to me in detail how he would make them pay for what they did to me.
Pee Bee walked to Navarro’s side, inhaled a deep breath, and exhaled into the palms of his hands. “Pete said it was Whip, Panda, Taffy, and someone else, but he wasn’t sure.”
“Lowbrow,” I said flatly.
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Positive.”
“Already called Ryder,” he said. “Cholo and a bunch of the fellas were at his place. They’re on their way now. You stay here with her.”
Navarro released me and turned to face Pee Bee. “I’m going. I’m gonna kill every motherfucking one of ‘em. Real god damned slow.”
Pee Bee shook his head. “Somebody’s got to stay with her.”
“This is my fight, god damn it. Mine,” Navarro seethed. “And I’m gonna fight it.”
“You want him to stay?” Pee Bee asked. “Here with you?”
I nodded. “Uh huh.”
“You don’t want him to leave?”
I wrapped my arms around Navarro and pulled him into me. “I’d rather he stay, please.”
Pee Bee folded his massive arms on front of his chest and sighed. “I’m the Sergeant-At-Arms of this club. It’s my job to protect what’s ours, at any cost. Like it or not, she testified for you, and this is the price she’s paid for it. The club owes her. The club needs to protect her. I’m goin’ for these motherfuckers, and I ain’t stoppin’ till I got ‘em.” He turned around until his back faced us. “Either let me get ‘em, or cut off my fuckin’ patch.”
Oh, wow.
“You know good and god damned well I’m not cuttin’ off your patch,” Navarro growled.
“It’s settled, then. You’re stayin’, and I’m goin’.”
Navarro leaned over and rested his head on my shoulder. His warm breath on my neck made me smile. His strong arms provided assurance that I was safe from harm as long as he was near.
“I want ‘em to pay.”
Pee Bee nodded. “They will.”
“Be careful,” I said. “Panda’s got a gun.”
He laughed a dry laugh. “Me? Shit. Make me up one of those cranberry drinks. A double. I’ll be over to drink it before the fuckin’ ice melts.”
I lifted my head. “Promise?”
A thunderous rumble rattled the windows of the bar. The sound continued for some time, almost resembling a passing train. I peered outside. Side-by-side, motorcycles pulled into the lot, one row after another. A string of headlights as far as I could see filled the road leading to the bar. It seemed it was never going to end.
In no time, the lot was filled with bikes.
Completely filled.
And, it wasn’t just FFMC’s men.
Pee Bee bent down, looked through the window, then stood up. “We’re gonna roll, Boss.”
Navarro cleared his throat. “Who else you call?”
“Hell On Earth and The Dragons. We’re rolling about fifty deep, Boss.”
“God damn you,” Navarro said with a laugh. “We didn’t need to--”
“You want my job?” Pee Bee interrupted. “Start wearin’ my patch. Until you do, you be the President. I’ll be the Sergeant-At-Arms.”
The door opened and twenty or so men came in, all wearing leather vests. Two massive men came to our side and stood, each crossing their arms in front of their chests as they positioned themselves beside us.
“What’s shakin’, motherfuckers?” Pee Bee asked.
Each of the men hugged Pee Bee and patted him on the back. “Good to see you, Brother,” one said.
“Tiny.” Navarro nodded to the man on the left. “Big Frank,” he said to the other.
“Crip,” they said in unison.
Pee Bee turned toward the door.
“Pee Bee,” I shouted.
He turned around.
“Promise me you’ll be careful?”
He turned around, clenched his fist, and extended his arm.
I pounded my fist into his. “I’ll have that drink waiting.”
He walked away, and Navarro held me in his arms. As the walls and windows once again began to shake, I watched through them leave. Two at a time, fifty motorcycle’s taillights rode away from the bar and into the street. Each stood as a reminder that someone was going to pay dearly for what happened to me.
HOT as F*CK Page 11