Wyatt paused. “Punched in the face? You’re supposed to be acting, Ash, playing a part. What do you mean, punched in the face?”
“You ever hear of method acting? You know, like Daniel Day Lewis or Robert De Niro? They don’t just perform their roles, they become them.”
“Who would punch Robert De Niro in the face? Everyone loves that guy.” After trailing off, he added, “You shouldn’t be punched in the face.”
“Boxing match. Don’t worry, it was enough to start a bruise. The rest of it was makeup magic.”
“Stop screwing around, Ash,” Wyatt growled over the line.
As his anger simmered, I looked ahead. The long road seemed to never end. It cut through the desert, sparse brush on the sides of the road, some cacti, but mostly barren earth with red mountains on the horizon. Heading deeper in, closer to the Mojave, heat lines waved in front of my hood, clinging to the asphalt like a dire warning. A hub to California and Arizona, with all the illegal activities that came with two border states, this area was the ideal grounds for a motorcycle club. Long stretches of desert to hide in, few neighbors, and a lot of trafficking.
The Blessed Bastards laid low, like a crocodile in a swamp, most of the time spent preserving energy, soaking up the heat. When the opportunity arose, it attacked. Carnage. Lots of it. Messy carnage that got the public’s attention. That was one reason they chose a woman for the job, and not another man, because these guys were good. The last agent who tried to go undercover in their group paid for it with his life. These guys got away with murder. Murder of an FBI agent.
Wyatt interrupted my worrying, “You’re tough, but are you able to cry on command? You’ve got to be good. Real good. I don’t want to get a bad phone call about this job. I really don’t.” He reminded me, “This was your idea, remember?”
“Sounds like someone is getting cold feet.” Please, Wyatt, stop worrying about me. Your worrying is contagious.
“It’s a good plan. If you’re confident about following it.”
“This is how it has to be. I know that and I’m doing it. I appreciate the warnings, but we’ve been through this before.”
Prickly Mojave yucca popped into view. Hitting the brakes, I stopped at my designated spot. The yucca thrived there like a patch of green desert spears that had grown out of control and couldn’t be stopped, a good place for me to remember. The plants grew all over the state, but not to this degree. Yucca in full bloom, like these were, exposed red flowers among thorns...a fitting metaphor for what I was about to become.
“I’m at the spot,” I told Wyatt. “I’ve got to go.”
He got in one last warning, “Be careful. Call me soon.” He knew the Bluetooth would be disposed of according to plan.
“Gotcha. Bye.”
I pulled over, sending a cloud of dirt in the air. I turned the car off then grabbed my tiny disposable kit that I packed for the job. First thing I did was walk far away and smash the phone with a small yet functional hammer.
These guys were good. Taking chances wasn’t an option. If they found a burner on me, I was as good as dead. My paranoia went as far as scattering the pieces around the desert floor.
I came back to the car and threw open the hood. A popped tire wasn’t dramatic enough. No, total destruction was required. Leaving it out in the sweltering heat, which now began to beat on my neck to the back of my heels, might do the trick, but there wasn’t time. Any second they could come rolling down the highway like a swarm signaling the apocalypse, each one clad in dark leather on black steeds.
Oil already spent, I took the next item out and dumped it in the engine as instructed. It was designed to destroy the engine in record time, faster than pouring sand, without leaving a trace. It was some serious spy shit. I was happy to use it. That might not be very professional, but there, I said it. Getting into my car again, I put it into neutral and slammed on the gas, making sure I kept the windows open to let a breeze in.
Admittedly, it was a little fun screeching the tires and going until the engine blew, but I also felt a little sad that I couldn’t hand the car over to someone else, or maybe take it myself after the job was over. I wasn’t rich. The government was.
Sufficiently screwed, my tiny car turned over. I let it sit and cool off while I headed into the desert to dig a hole and bury my disposable packet. Brushing dirt over it, it seemed paranoid, but with my life on the line, and these guys being one of the biggest one percenter clubs in the nation, I had a right to be.
A black dot emerged on the horizon, quickly getting larger, forming into a black streak that threatened to swallow the blue sky. I hurried to my place on stage, leaning helplessly against the destroyed car. Crying would be too much. Teary eyed, disheveled, that I could handle.
Covering the entire road, the pack made sure no intruders could sneak through their motorcade. It occurred to me that my plan would be a major failure if they simply rode past me, but I didn’t expect them to leave a sad, pathetic-looking girl on the side of the road. These guys were all about proving they were alpha. A sweet thing like me would be an easy catch for these predators.
I don’t know what I expected, but seeing the President slow and wave them to the side of the road snapped my spine straight at attention. I never expected the President, King Jr., otherwise known as King, to be there, even though his daily ritual was to get a pot of coffee and a whole cow to slaughter at The Long Road. Having his towering, threatening self walking toward me was quite different than serving him breakfast in a booth.
He would look like Santa Claus if it weren’t for all of the black leather and the grey in his mostly white beard. His jacket was adorned with patches. Above all, my attention was directed to the “President Patch” and then the “1%” patch right next to it.
“Looks like you ran into some trouble here,” he said, his voice like a bear waking from a long hibernation.
More men got off their bikes. They filed behind my car. Some waited, but others, too interested in a wholesome, stranded girl, approached.
King recoiled, his lips wavering into a snarl when he saw my bruises. An ocean of worn leather surrounded me when they also noticed my swollen face.
“Who hurt ya, sweetheart?”
I took some steps back. They were getting too close.
King held a hand out, stopping them all.
“You’ve got a nice bruise there. How’d that happen? Now don’t go telling me it was from falling down stairs. I’ve seen bruises like that before.”
I bet you have. Maybe given some yourself?
Standing my ground, I knew if I threw myself into their arms right away it would be too obvious. It would look phony. Besides, fear gripped me, not allowing me to move.
“It’s nothing. I called for a lift. I’m fine,” I said, saying it like I believed it, because I really wanted to.
Surveying my car, he grunted. “Shoulda bought a bike.” He grinned and slapped the hood. “Care if I take a look?”
I nodded slowly.
King popped the hood, letting the others emerge as he inspected. I saw one of them, a lanky, weather-beaten man as tattered as his leather, grin at me.
“Look at the sweet ass on her,” I heard him say to his friend. “Wouldn’t mind bringing that home with me.”
His friend grinned. The man who looked like a long-lost member of The Stones waved me over. I peered back to King, busy inspecting the engine.
The ragged one gave me another wave then nodded, like I was a disobedient pup. There was an underlying threat if I didn’t follow.
Taking careful, fearful steps, when I got close, he swung his arm around me and grabbed my ass with bony fingers. He pulled me close to his oily leather. I struggled, trying to sway my ass out of his hands, knowing I shouldn’t make too much of a fight.
His teeth, the color of a harvest moon, intruded my personal space as he breathed, “You want to come back and play with us? Bet you’ll have an orgasm before we even get there.”
A defia
nt, heavy voice cut through the air, making me shiver. “Hands off, Lee. I know her.”
Lee, the creep who held me, jerked toward the voice. His eyes bulged with rage. I thought for sure I might see a fight between the bikers. It had only been a few minutes. Already, I would witness a murder.
The man who approached me wore his auburn hair in a ponytail, his face rugged with a five o’clock shadow, the rest clean, his eyes hazel flecked with a ring of gold. He was one word...intense. Okay, maybe another...sexy. Muscle hugging leather, on a wide, powerful frame that led up to a beautiful face, and below, well, I didn’t want to stare at his crotch, but his jeans were just tight enough, not enough to reveal everything, but enough to show he was the complete package. His tall black mountain boots were the epitome of a capable man. I wanted to run into his arms and wanted to run away from him at the same time. He was a good-looking guy, if he wasn’t wearing the enemy’s uniform.
Lee sneered at the intruder. “Know her? She’s not your old lady, is she?”
The handsome brute blocked Lee’s view, standing in front of me with that leather-clad, plump ass. I’d never been an ass girl, but he could make me one. My hero.
As I swooned over this hot man running to help me, I also wanted to shove him out of the way. He was complicating things. Stirring up trouble.
“She works at the diner.”
Lee flipped. “Works at the diner? Since when is someone who works at the diner off limits? You’re outta your fucking mind, Red.”
I leaned over Red’s massive back to get a look at Lee. Would they fight? I hoped not. Lee was pissed, but Red remained cool. He smelled like oil, just like Lee, but he also had this spicy, woodsy cologne on which I wanted a closer inspection of. Who gave that brute cologne advice? Probably one of the ten girls he had on standby.
Red had no right to claim me. I didn’t want to trade one dictator for another. He might look better than Lee, but who knew how cruel he was? They were like two rabid dogs fighting over scraps. Scraps. Me? No. Not going to happen.
“We go to the diner all the time,” Red said, crossing his arms as he stood his ground.
“You’re out of your fucking mind, Red,” Lee said again, this time pointing him down. The others readied to make a move.
King, the big white bear, shoved Red out of the way. He stood between them, somehow making Red look small while making Lee look even thinner.
“Knock this stupid shit off. This girl gets me my breakfast every morning. We’re going to treat her right. We’re not complete animals, are we?”
Lee kicked the dirt then joined the others. “I still got a right,” Lee seethed. Red didn’t respond. He let Lee fall back in line.
King pointed to me. Why did I want to hide behind something? “Red, you know this chick?”
He glanced my way. I looked nervous, I’m sure, which helped my acting. Red nodded and said, “Yeah, I know her.” He gave me a glare that said “You better not say anything.” I shut my mouth.
“All right,” King said. A small smirk appeared on the corner of his lips, one that was purposely not pointed in Lee’s direction. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said, standing his ground. A breeze brushed the sides of his hair back. He slipped his fingers over the edge, running to his ponytail, making me want to snap it free and let it fall. He would look like a viking, like a sexy viking, with his hair down to his shoulders.
Did he just do that to me on purpose? Make me ogle over him so I wouldn’t say anything?
“Take her wherever she wants to go, or stay with her until her ride gets here. I don’t care. We’ll be at the clubhouse.”
Hey wait, Mr. President, I’m not with this guy! But the words wouldn’t leave my lips. They were sealed shut. Dealing with these tough-looking guys, and getting a little fondled, had been more than enough for the time being. Being close to Red seemed like the smartest choice. For now.
Red nodded. The wind picked up again as their engines roared. They moved as one, leaving me with only one target, Red. His hair was a slick, shiny auburn with some blond thrown in, so I wasn’t sure what his nickname meant. Maybe at the right angle on a cloudy day it might look slightly reddish. It seemed like my fate now rested in this man’s hands. Red. I couldn’t even understand his nickname.
“Where you headed?” he asked.
Good question. I was hoping to get taken back to the clubhouse, where I would begin to infiltrate, working my way up to an old lady, an untouchable girl, instead of some low-life whore they kept for parties. But Red screwed up that plan. This guy was already a huge pain in my ass...as handsome and protective as he was.
“I was headed to work,” I said.
“Sorry about Lee. He can be an asshole.” He shrugged. He shifted away, getting distant.
I nodded. I didn’t want to say anything bad about another member. Who knew how this guy’s brain worked? If he was part of The Bastards, one thing was for sure, he was a psychopath. He checked under the hood of my car and sighed.
He waited for me to look inside with him. When I came closer, he startled me, brushing a strand of hair away from my eyes. I recoiled. I brought a hand up to my cheek in defense. I expected to be hurt, not to be touched in such a gentle way, alarming me more.
“Who did this to you?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” His touch lingered. His touch would not go away.
“I’ve seen you at the diner. You can really work. You’re a tough girl, so tell me, what kind of monster could make you this scared?”
He saw me at the diner? I didn’t remember that. Could he have been checking me out? Maybe he was waiting outside for his brothers and spotted me through the windows. Creepy, but I liked it.
My body betrayed me, drawing heat to my cheeks. It would help the show anyway. I stopped trying to fight it. I settled into my role, damsel in distress.
“I’ve got a ride coming soon,” I said, turning away from him now.
He gripped my wrist, turning me to look into his wild eyes. He demanded to know the man’s name. They were eyes I could get lost in for days. Too bad that wasn’t part of my plan. Sorry, Red.
“Tell me his name. You can stay with us until he’s gone. Just tell me his name.”
The look in his eyes told me that he would kill for me.
Did he care about women that much to avenge me? I didn’t think so. No, this guy just wanted to fuck me. Death meant nothing to him. Killing was a stroll in the park. He was sly, much better at manipulating than his counterparts. He was the type to suck me in and then spit me out all while claiming he was the good guy.
No, thanks.
“I can’t tell you. Now let me go,” I said, pulling my arm free.
He sneered. I slammed the hood shut. Leaning back against the car, I stared at the long road, waiting for my ride to appear. It had been a fabrication. There was no ride.
Red stood in front of me, blocking my view, forcing me to look into the spreading molten gold which ringed his pupils.
“Whoever did this, he’ll fucking pay.”
“Thanks,” I said. I left it at that.
It seemed like the longer I waited to tell him a name, the more frustrated and angrier he got. He tore away. The points of his boots dug into the ground. He stared off like he could strangle the mystery man with his mind.
“Look, I might’ve just met you, but you seem smart. You need to run. I offered you a way out, but if you’re not going to take it, at least get out some other way.” He waited. When I didn’t respond, he walked away.
Wait, I almost screamed.
Maybe I was playing too hard to get.
His engine roared. When I turned to him, I expected to see him driving away, instead he pulled up beside me. He signaled for me to hop on.
“Get on. I’ll give you a lift.”
I heard some horror stories about these guys. If I got on that bike, he would be in complete control. Maybe he would take me to the middle of th
e desert, meet up with his buddies, and they would have their way with me. They would use me. Leave me for the vultures.
He signaled again. His fierce eyes honed in on me.
“Put that sexy ass down. The bike won’t bite.”
Sexy ass? Really? And I wasn’t so sure that it wasn’t going to bite. It looked intimidating. I had never been on a bike before.
“Where are we going?”
“Where would you like to go? I’ll be your driver for the evening.”
Turning back to the direction where the rest of the gang departed, I noticed they were far gone. Not a wisp of black leather in sight. To the diner it was.
“All right,” I said with a huff. “Take me to the Long Road.” Why did I want to give him my apartment address? That shouldn’t be happening. I approached the back. As soon as I got there, my inexperience became apparent.
“I’m...uh...not quite sure—”
“Get on right behind me, wrap your arms around me, and hold on tight.”
“Okay,” I said, thankful for his bluntness for once. The bike was already running, so when I sat on it, I knew exactly why Lee threatened orgasms. The rumbling was strong. I tried to fight the excitement, telling myself to act professional, but I had to stifle a giggle.
The thought of giggling didn’t last long. Vibrations tickled my inner thighs. Rumbling broke me down until I was slick and panging, wanting to rub myself against the seat, or even Red, to get off.
“Go on. Arms around me,” he told me again, seeing how shy I was.
I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my crotch against his lower back. When we connected, my excitement swelled.
“You’re going to want to really squeeze tight or else you’ll fall off.”
“Here I go,” I said, not believing how timid I was being.
Frustrated, I squeezed him, giving him a tight embrace.
Be a grown-up, Ash. This isn’t a big deal.
Before I could situate myself completely, the bike sped off. I pressed against him, using his solid, wide frame to block the whipping wind. As soon as we hit high speeds, the uneasiness left me. Excitement rushed in.
Lucas (A Billionaire Bad Boy Novel) Page 19