CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “I can’t figure out what he does to make them all fall down like that,” Bev said as she stuffed more popcorn into her mouth.

  “It doesn’t look like he does anything to them. They just pass out,” Yvette suggested.

  “Yeah, but look. Preston knows it’s about to happen. See how he comes out of his fighting stance and just stands up straight, just before they all collapse? It’s really weird.”

  “Weren’t you going to get some work done?” Yvette asked.

  “What are you, my mother?”

  “I just don’t want this to not work out, because I really want you here.”

  “Shit, baby, I’m not going anywhere. So, let’s set up my WiFi router with your connection and we can both play on the computer at the same time.”

  “Sweet,” Yvette agreed.

  Half an hour later, they were settling back to their computers when Bev said, “I’m supposed to call him and ask him to go to the range with me today.”

  “Who?” Yvette asked without looking from her computer screen.

  “Him. You know, HIM.”

  She turned to look at Bev. “HIM him?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s married, you know.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that already. But Leo told me it would be a good idea after last night. So, I’m going to call him. Would you like to come with us to the range?”

  She thought about that. “Could I ride behind him?”

  “He’s married, you know,” Bev laughed.

  She sighed. “Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to be married. They should be national treasures, and open like national parks. It’s really a shame I like Kim so much. She’s such a great person.”

  “So, is that a yes? Or a very whiny no?” Bev asked.

  “It’s a whiny yes, and I really don’t like to shoot guns. They scare me too much. But it would be nice to get out. Maybe we could get some lunch after?”

  Bev picked up her phone and dialed the number Leo had given her last night. “Sounds good. We can stop off at Maison’s Hall as well and check it out.”

  “Hello?”

  “Um, Preston? It’s Bev. Leo gave me this number and suggested that I call you. I hope this isn’t too forward.”

  “Not at all, Bev. What can I do for you?”

  Oh god, you could do whatever you wanted with me, that’s what you could do.

  Bev pulled herself together. “I asked Leo for a gun, and he gave me one on the condition I hit the range and get familiar with it. Then he said that you knew where one was close by, and that you could perhaps give me some pointers.”

  God, I sound like a robot!

  Preston was quiet, and she pictured him snickering with his phone muted. “Yes, I’ll do that for you if you in turn do something for me?”

  “For you? Um, sure. What?” she asked, surprised.

  “Spar with me three times. Maybe more if we enjoy it,” he told her.

  Her mouth went dry, and her eyes rolled, and her brain was absolutely blank for at least five seconds. “Yes?” she managed.

  “Perfect! Where are you?”

  “Yvette’s. She would like to come, just to get out of the house, if you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. It would be good for her. I can be there at three?”

  “That sounds good,” Bev said automatically.

  “Great. See you then, and thanks for calling.”

  Then he broke the connection.

  “What did he say? You went white. I don’t mean that like an expression. I mean, you went white!” Yvette said with true concern.

  “He said yes, he’ll be here at three, so we’ll go get lunch before he arrives,” she told her in a breathless voice.

  “That’s not all he said,” Yvette pressed, coming to sit with her on the couch.

  “He said that he wants me to spar with him three times, and more if we like it.”

  “Spar? You mean, like, fight him?”

  “Yes, but not to hurt each other, just to improve our skills.”

  “He wants you to help him improve his skill,” Yvette said slowly. “Won’t that mean a lot of body contact?”

  Bev felt her eyes go wide, and she stuttered quickly, “Um, well, but not like that, you know, nothing sexual or familiar or anything like that. He’s married, you know.”

  “He’s just going to throw you to the mat and pounce on you a few times, is that it?” Yvette asked.

  Bev grabbed a pillow off the couch and threw it at her. “You’re horrible! Why do I like you?”

  Yvette batted the pillow away and danced out into the room, laughing. “You don’t, you love me, and that’s a whole different thing.”

  “Got that right, brat!”

  “Slut.”

  “Oohh, come here!”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Preston arrived at three. Yvette chickened out, and she got on Bev’s bike with her instead of asking Preston. The ride was only two miles, and they pulled into a strip mall that had a liquor store, a Mexican food place, a church, and the gun store.

  Yvette looked at the selection and said, “Perfect, really, if you’re a hick.”

  “Welcome to Lakeside,” Preston smiled. “It is a good range, though. So, how long has it been?”

  “I think I was nineteen the last time I fired a gun.”

  “Did your dad teach you this as well?”

  “How did you—?”

  “Your style of fighting is obviously Recon Marine: very aggressive and powerful with the absolute goal of ending the fight quickly in an undisputed fashion. I’ve fought enough Marines to recognize the style. Since I doubt you were a Marine, and you fight too well to be taught by a brother or sister, that leads me to father. Yes?”

  “Yes, and he remembers you from your gun tournaments,” she told him.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Richard C. Wallace, Master Sergeant.”

  “The hand-to-hand instructor out at Camp Pendleton! Yes, I have serious respect for your father. What a small world.”

  “He has the same for you,” she told him.

  “That’s very flattering to hear. Thank you,” he said. “So, did he teach you combat style?”

  “No, not really. He taught me the knife and some basic hand-to-hand, focusing on larger, more aggressive opponents, but for guns — just how to fire them and clean them, really.”

  “He focused on the knife? That’s interesting. You know that is one place I’ve never been good at. Perhaps we could begin there with our sessions?”

  She nodded, feeling much more comfortable picturing herself with a blade in her hand against this man. “That would be good. Yes.”

  “Then I’ll start you on combat training.”

  Once they were in the range, Preston told her, “Ok, first of all, aiming sucks. Fuck aiming. Forget the gun even has sights.”

  “Ok?” Bev replied.

  “Your hands and your eyes work together and will improve with practice, but they will also adjust rapidly if the eyes see where the hands have to move. So in combat, you practice for three-round bursts. The first shot is your marker, and the second and third shots will adjust your hand from the mark point without being asked to. They’ll just do it, if you give them the chance. So, this is how we fire,” he said. He pulled his gun and fired three shots so rapidly the blasts melded into each other.

  “You can fire that fast,” Bev asked, “and your hand will still adjust?”

  “Faster,” Preston agreed. “The brain is incredibly fast.”

  Bev looked at the target that was only about fifteen feet away, and the center looked like it had one hole. “Wow.”

  “Don’t be too impressed. Anyone can kill paper,” Preston said with a smile. “Now, your turn.”

  Preston taught her for nearly two hours. His hands were all over her, adjusting her stance, her arms, and her waist, but his demeanor was so professional, and what he was saying was so valuable, she forgot to get turned on.

&nbs
p; At the end of the session, Preston said, “You really catch on fast. I can’t wait to see you with a knife. That, I believe, is going to be a treat. I’ll pick up some practice knives on my way home. Friday? Is Friday good?”

  “Friday sounds perfect. About one-ish? Where?” she asked.

  “Hmm, that’s a good one. How about my house? We can use the garage. I have mats. Kim will have lunch, so don’t bother eating. Just arrive a little early. Trust me, she’ll make it anyway,” Preston said with a warm smile.

  “Would you mind it if Yvette came along?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then we’ll try to make it by noon so we don’t waste food,” Bev said with a grin.

  “Good. I’ll see you then.”

  Preston walked toward his bike, and they watched him get on and drive away.

  “His hands were all over you,” Yvette said with such jealousy Bev had to grin.

  “Yes, they were, and it felt amazing. I think I got off three times. The fourth didn’t really count, I don’t think. Too small,” she said casually while getting on her bike.

  Yvette was frozen, looking at her dumbstruck.

  “Come on, brat,” Bev told her.

  “Really?”

  “No! Now get on. I was so tuned in to what he was teaching me, I didn’t even think about it until we were done, and then I felt cheated.”

  They pulled into the driveway of Maison’s Hall and walked inside. At the front desk, Bev inquired about the reservation for that Saturday, and they were led down the hall to the doors of a large room.

  “There will be twenty tables set up, not counting the three long tables for food. I know the bars were ordered, but nothing about food.”

  Bev nodded. “We’ll do a potluck, thanks.”

  “You got this for Crash?” Yvette said.

  She looked at her friend and decided it was safe to tell her, “Actually, Leo did. Is that alright? He won’t be coming, he has to work, but he wanted to do this much for you and Crash.”

  Yvette bit her lip. “He really was with you, that night? No phone calls?”

  “Yes, Yvette, he really was. I couldn’t stand it if he was the one who did that to you, no matter what the reason. Alright?” Bev told her, deciding that adding that Leo really wished he was the trigger man wouldn’t be helpful right now.

  Yvette looked around the room. “Well, we can’t put up a notice at the club, since he didn’t die as a member. So, we have a lot of phone calls to make.”

  Bev gave her an enthusiastic hug. “Let’s go!”

  Bev worked like a demon to catch up for the day, and she then helped with the phone list.

  The first number Bev called was for someone named Big Marty, who she didn't remember meeting before.

  “Yes?”

  “Marty? Big Marty?”

  “Sometimes, who is this?”

  “This is Bev. I’m calling about Crash’s wake on Saturday at the Hall in Lakeside,” she offered.

  “Bev? I’ll be damned, I was just talking about you. I want to say I’m sorry about that. Never should have happened. You were dead right, and no hard feelings,” Big Marty told her.

  She hesitated for a moment, finally remembering meeting him, and then said, “Accepted. It’s been rough on all of us.”

  “Thank you. And can I ask where the blood on your clothes came from?”

  “Well, Marty, about an hour before I arrived at the club, three men came into my house and tried to rape and kill me.”

  “Where are they now?” Marty said with a low growl in his voice.

  “They’re dead, Marty. They’re all dead,” she told him flatly.

  Marty let out a long breath. “Not club, right?”

  “No, not club. I’m not sure who they were, but they weren’t club, though club took care of the cleanup for me. Danny helped with that.”

  “Good call getting him involved. And sorry to pry. I’ll see you Saturday. Thanks again,” he said and broke the connection. As Bev lowered the phone, she noticed Yvette staring at her. “Ah shit,” she said, looking down at her hands.

  “You didn’t tell me,” Yvette said quietly.

  “No, I didn’t tell you. You have too much now, and it was taken care of. I got a little scratch on my neck, that’s it, alright? And I wish you didn’t know about it now,” she said softly, near tears.

  “You didn’t know them?”

  “No, I didn’t, and they didn’t know me. They just came in and … and … I fought, but I wasn’t strong enough, and god, I was so scared Yvette,” she told her friend, tears coming down her face. “The one, he was so fucking evil.”

  “Is that why you wanted to be roomies for a while?” Yvette asked.

  Bev nodded, wiping her eyes with her hands. “Yes, some of it. I haven’t been back to my house since, except to pick up some stuff to come here. The couch is ruined, and so is the coffee table. There are blood stains on the carpet. I can’t sleep there. Not yet. I’m afraid, alright? I’m really scared to sleep there alone.”

  “What happened? I mean, to them?” Yvette asked.

  “Leo came over. He just stopped over, and he killed two of them. I killed one as they were coming inside.”

  “Did it change you?” she asked softly. “Killing him? Did it change you?”

  Bev nodded. “Yes. I thought it didn’t. I didn’t think about it at all, except to wonder how I could have done the same thing to the other two. But this morning, after Leo left, I was getting ready to come over here, and it hit me really hard. I puked. I barely made it to the bathroom. I know the guy was going to kill me, and rape me, and he didn’t even see me as a human being, just a body, but I can’t see him that way. I just can’t.”

  Yvette came over and sat down beside her, hugging her close. “I know what you mean. I don’t want to talk about it, not now. But I know exactly what you mean.”

  Bev nodded, and she wiped at her eyes again. “Well, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, so let’s get back on the phones. I’m alright now.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Leo had already accepted the fact that he was going to murder someone. It was Thursday, about six in the evening, and he was holding his gun to the back of the head of a man who had been running one of the distribution chains for the Nomar cartel. Apparently, he took a little more than he should have. It was strange to Leo that this was such a common problem.

  Nomar is talking to him, mostly in Spanish, which Leo is fluent in, though he hasn’t let Nomar in on this information. Nomar’s monologue is tedious and, in Leo’s mind, a flagrant waste of time, because Leo can tell that Nomar is going to order him to kill this man. It is all over his body language.

  It is a test to see if Leo will hesitate or act when given a command.

  After another minute of talking, Leo realizes that he is wrong, this isn’t Nomar wasting time. Nomar is trying to see if Leo will lose his cool under this kind of pressure.

  Leo allows himself the slightest of grins, since he doesn’t feel any pressure from the situation at all. The pressure left him when he decided that yes, he was going to murder this man. From that point, he’s been calm.

  The man under his gun, however, is feeling the pressure. He is quaking at this point, shaking so badly that the sweat pouring out of his forehead is being flung off by the trembles.

  “So you understand, Marlon. I have to do this,” Nomar said in English, and then to Leo, “Kill him-”

  The gun went off before Nomar could quite finish the command.

  Leo straightened up, checked the room, and then put his gun into his side-holster. “Do you need anything from his desk? Perhaps his laptop?”

  Nomar studied him. “Actually, yes, bueno. His laptop, please.”

  Leo strode over to the desk and found the travel case for the laptop. He packed it all up and looked around again. “Yes?”

  “Si, we go now,” Nomar agreed.

  Outside, two enforcers fell into step behind them as they went down
the walk to the waiting limo.

  Once inside, Nomar gave Leo another appraisal. “You did not drive the truck today?”

  “It is at the body shop being repainted. It will be done by next Tuesday, they told me,” Leo said.