BABY FOR A PRICE

by Kathryn Thomas

  As Thad finishes his work, I stand and brush off my pant legs. Turning back to him as I place the jacket over my arms, I say, “That’s why tonight’s so important. I’m inviting the entire road crew out to the Sunset, including Barber’s new butt boys. Martin Barber would never do that, let alone buy ‘em a couple rounds. I’ll get them good and sloshed and then convert them over to the Gavin side. That little bitch won’t know what hit him when they stop following his orders.”

  My plan isn’t exactly foolproof. To make it work, I need to have Martin go along as well. Not inviting him now that he was the new, official captain would be akin to mutiny. I wasn’t about to get even more retribution over this. Instead, I had to do this slyly and under his very own nose. Revenge done in broad daylight is always that much sweeter.

  “Well, I just hope I’m still invited now that they are making me corporate.” Going ‘corporate’ was the label we gave to the guys who worked background, inside jobs for the club. They were the guys answering media calls, or coordinating with our inside men in the police force. And, for Thad, they were accountants.

  “Dude, just because they benched you doesn’t mean you’re not still part of the team. Hell, you’re even more valuable now that you are on the inside. You’re going to see the inner workings of the club.” I pat him on the back heartily, as I walk out back towards the empty parking lot.

  After the big drama between Martin and me, he announced that Thad’s former background as a math wiz meant he would be replacing our old man Bernie, who just retired out. He’d be handling the incoming cash flow and our paychecks. While I didn’t pity him, I was a bit excited to see if he could find anything suspicious in the Barber family business. That’s why they always say to never mess with the moneymen.

  Thad calls after me a bit disappointed, “Eleven then? The Sunset?”

  I look back to him and nod. It’s my way of avoiding the glare of the man riding with me now. I think Martin said his name was Brock or something ridiculous like that. He’s been waiting on me for some time now, and I can tell his patience is growing thin by how he’s checking the clock on his phone like a teacher with a truant student.

  Still, there’s no need to be rude to him. I need all the friends I can get, and this man would have to be my new partner for the foreseeable future. The last thing you want is to ride with a guy who doesn’t have your back. “You ready to ride, brother? You know the routes?”

  “I’ve been ready to ride for fifteen minutes now.” He jumps on his bike, an old beat up, firetruck-red Harley with not much life left in her.

  “My apologies. When I get jumped, I try my best not to ride with blood coming down my face.”

  It’s the last words I say to him the entire night. I take the lead riding from pick-up to drop-off points like the professional I am. I handle everything from talking to the suppliers and dealers to placing the deposit envelope in the lock box at the train station. Brock, or whatever his name is, just sits back, observing, waiting.

  At the end of the night, we head back to the headquarters and clock out by signing on a piece of paper with the time. It’s a new measure under the regime of Martin Barber, but I don’t mind. It gives me enough time to round up the newbies to let them know about my get-together over at the Sunset. Most are game while Martin’s enforcers seem more suspicious than anything.

  When I get to the final guy, the man who held my arms behind my back as Martin took his swing at me, I add a twist, “Hey man, can you send a message to the captain. I want to make sure he gets my invitation to join us. His old man too, if he’s with him.” The man peers at me for a long moment in an awkward silence he doesn’t break. But as I’m about to give up and leave, he takes out his phone and pulls up his messages.

  “Hey! Gavin!” Someone pulls on my jacket, as I spin defensively. I was just about out of the door and on the way to the bar when I’m pulled back in. He blindsides me enough to manage to drag me into the coatroom near the front of the building. The door slams before he turns to face me, but I’m already on him, pinning him to the door. His body slams against the sturdy wood.

  “Woah! Woah! It’s me. It’s Moses… Moses Hawks. We’ve met before when I was training to be a runner. I work with the armory guys now.”

  I know Moses. I know just about every Bloody Pagan in this chapter. But his name rings even more bells when I remember him from Vanessa’s lie to her father about her friend Alice and him. I put him down slowly, but I don’t back away. I am not about to get jumped again.

  “What do you want?” My voice crackles, as it goes low.

  “I…I…shit, man. I have a message for you from Alice. She told me to not get caught giving it to you, so I thought I’d pull you in here.”

  “Alice? Alice Dugger? What the hell does she want?” My blood races through me, as I feel a strange sense of dread and excitement wash over me.

  “It’s not really from Alice. It’s from Vanessa Barber. I was to tell you that she wanted to see you tonight at the Sunset. She’s going to be there in the backroom. There was something else… ugh. I can’t remember. Alice told me it in a hurry.” He reaches down quickly to his pocket and pulls out his phone. I watch him scroll through the lit up screen before adding nervously, “Oh yeah. Vanessa said that she wanted to ‘make good on her promise.’ I don’t know what that means. That’s all she said.”

  I go blank. Every part of me just stops operating like a machine on the fritz. I’m unsure what to say or do. So, with a dry mouth, I ask the kid, “When?”

  “When, what?”

  “When is she going to be at the Sunset? Did she say?”

  “Oh yeah, at midnight.”

  The plan that I had—to destroy Martin Barber with drinks—was slowly falling to pieces before my very eyes. If Vanessa was going to be there, I couldn’t have Martin there. And if Martin wasn’t there, I’d be called out worse for just messing with his sister or being a smart ass. I had to manage this, but I had no idea where to begin. All I knew was that I needed to be at that bar to beat her there before anyone spotted her.

  Without another word, I push past Moses and open the door to the empty headquarters. The only people left were few runners who worked the graveyard shift.

  But before I go, I remember one important part. I head back into the room and shut the door slowly behind me. In one grand motion, I grab Moses by his collar and lift him off the ground so his feet dangle. His face meets mine, as I growl, “I don’t know you, Moses, but I do know this…you’re one of my boys now. You’re not in Martin or Jonah Barber’s pockets. And if you tell either of them or any of their men about what Alice, Vanessa, or I had to say, I will hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands. Are we clear about that?”

  Moses’s eyes bulge out like an insect, as he squirms in my hands. Breathlessly he replies, “Yeah, man. I get it. I’m no snitch, okay?”

  I toss him down, and he lands on his hands and knees. I reach my hand out as a peace offering. Our eyes meet, as I study them one last time. This snot-nosed kid could be the difference between life and death for both Vanessa and I, but he seemed harmless to me. He didn’t even seem to know the importance of the message he gave to me. To him, it was just a favor for the girl he was doing. But to me, it was much, much more.

  The ride to the Sunset Bar isn’t a long one, but to me, it’s a race against the clock. I knew that I didn’t have any time to stop back home to change, let alone slow at lights. Back alleyways are the fastest way, as I ignore pretty much every car, truck, and pedestrian in my path. All I can focus on is getting to that backroom before she does.

  Just as I suspected, the parking lot for the Sunset is already packed with bikes with our patches along with a few stragglers and riders from other clubs. The noise of the jukebox playing old Johnny Cash songs, along with the voices of men shouting wildly, fills the late night air. The bar seems to be electric tonight, as if it knows it’s about to be the center of my universe.

  I walk in quickly, taking the b
ackdoor and doing my best not to be spotted. I head straight toward the end room where the door is closed tight. We used to use that room for meetings years ago when the club was just about thirty or forty of us. It wasn’t until after the recession hit, when men started to get desperate enough to ride with patch holders, that the Bloody Pagans burst at its seams. The room back at the Sunset was still Pagan property; it was to be used for smaller meetings or retirement parties. But tonight, the doors are locked up tight, and from the crack in the door, it looked like there wasn’t even a light on inside.

  I head out towards the front of the bar where my men are already gathered around, waiting for me to buy the first round. A loud shout goes out as Thad spots me. “Our man, the buyer of beers!” he screams joyously. I nod an acknowledgement at him before heading to the bar.

  The old and gray bartender, Silva, is already prepared: he has seven large pitchers and a row of whiskey shots on trays. As soon as I give him a quick click of my head, he brings them to the five or six tables our men are occupying. He’ll keep them coming the rest of the night until I say stop, which could mean hell for my wallet. But tonight, it’s worth them being distracted for as long as possible with free booze.

  “Drinks are on me, boys!” I yell, trying my hardest not to look suspicious. “I’ll be back soon. Gotta take care of some, uh, business. Save a shot for me in the meantime.” To my luck, no one is even paying attention to me. They’re all focused on getting the first few pours. The men are served by rank with the oldest runners getting first dibs while the newbies wait their turn with mouths wide open.

  While Silva isn’t looking, I walk over to the back of the bar and grab the key hanging from a hook under the swinging service door. No one seems to notice as I walk quickly back to the room, its key pocketed in my hand. That is, until someone in a black hoodie grabs me around by the arm.

  One look into her eyes, and I say hushed, “Vanessa Barber, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Before I can answer Gavin’s question, he has his large hand wrapped around my mouth and another arm against my hips. He drags me down to the room I told him to meet me at and unlocks it quickly. As he pushes me inside gently, he turns and looks back at the bar suspiciously, as if we’re being followed.

  Despite the darkness of the room, he finds me. A hand wraps around the back of my neck and pulls me in close to him. Though I can only make out the powerful shape of him, I can feel the enveloping warmth of his body just inches from mine. Suddenly, it feels like I can’t breathe.

  “Vanessa—” he starts.

  I cut him off, unafraid of what I need to say, “I had to see you. I’m sorry. I know this is dangerous, but I couldn’t not see you.”

  He whispers lowly, “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do, Vanessa. Your father and brother already have it out for me for some reason. This is just giving them more reason. Your brother jumped me at today’s meeting and then threatened to have me killed if he caught us. This is serious shit.”

  I want to fall apart as he explains. I should have known that what happened in the dining room wasn’t over. Nothing with my brother or my dad is ever over…not until they get complete and utter satisfaction. And for my sadistic dick of a brother, that meant Gavin Wren’s head on a platter.

  Gavin continues, “You know that your brother, maybe even your dad, are coming here tonight? I invited them as a peace offering.”

  “I…I…I didn’t know. Alice told me that you go out drinking with the rest of your guys. I didn’t think that would include them.” Fear is washing over me the deeper we get into this. When I arrived all cloaked and hooded with Alice hiding me at a corner booth, every bit of me was fired up and ready for whatever may come. And while I don’t regret doing this, I, too, am wondering if it’s going to be worth the risk.

  “I know you didn’t. But you can’t be that stupid anymore. You’re Barber’s daughter. We can’t keep doing this.” The tone of his voice sounds unsure, even disbelieving. He may be saying one thing, but I know another larger part is saying something else.

  “Doing what?” I ask as innocently as possible. I place a hand on his rock-hard chest, the lines of his muscular abs making an indent through the thin t-shirt. I run my fingertips up the line of his sternum towards his neck, my nails slightly pushing into his flesh as I make a ring around his neck and up towards his the line of his hair.

  “Vanessa…” He goes quiet as my other hand places itself low along his hips. A fingertip slips under the waist of his jeans and tugs slightly to pull him closer to me. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  My voice lowers, deep and thick. “I know what I am doing. I know what I want. And it’s you.”

  “I’m not going to be a gentleman or some fucking knight in shining armor.” His arm wraps around my hips and lifts strongly around my ass. My feet and legs go up and around his hips as he hoists me off of the ground. “You sure you want this?”

  I swallow hard as I answer, “Yes, Gavin.”

  Our lips meet first, both of us grasping for the other. His taste is sweet and sour, almost dry, but I love it even more because it’s him. No dream could make this kiss more real or precious to me. And as we dive in—head first—I can feel our bodies synch up. He pushes forward, and I move back, I’m still grasping onto him, holding on with all my might, but he never lets go, never adjusts his hold on me. We just remain locked, our lips and mouths doing all the work.

  Eventually, he moves farther into the room. He navigates it expertly—without even having to break or look up. I see his eyes blink open for a second, as he lifts a hand out to find the tall end of a wooden bar. Rocking me backwards, he lowers me down slowly onto the high tabletop so I am level with him.

  He stands back for a moment to admire me, and I watch as his chest caves in and out as if he can’t catch his breath. A hand reaches out and finds the zipper on my hoodie. It lowers slowly, revealing the tight, black tank top with the lace edge along the low-cut neckline. I shimmy out of the sweatshirt before making my intentions to him clear. Slowly, letting him see every centimeter of my skin, I inch the tank top up my torso, past my bare breasts, and above my head so that I am completely and totally exposed to him.

  He follows my lead, taking off of his shirt. And just how I imagined him in my dreams, the first thing I notice in the slight light of a shuttered window behind the bar is those tattoos. But they aren’t black and white, but a vibrant tapestry covering every inch of his skin from the sunrise on his lower abs to the Bloody Pagan’s crest upon his chest. I reach out and touch my hand to it, covering it up.

  Gavin is quick to grab my wrist and bring it to his mouth. He plants a small kiss on the sensitive skin and then another and another until his mouth and head begin to travel the length of my thin arms. When he reaches the curve between my arm and chest, I feel him inhale my scent, taking in the natural parts of me. The nuzzle of his scratchy face against my skin, so close to my breasts, sends me reeling.

  He only lingers a second before moving up to the base of my neck. Little, light kisses spin around me, as I cock my head back to give him even more of me. But he’s already lowering his head down the centerline of my body towards my chest. Before I can have a second thought about what we are about to do, he touches me where no one else has. Two strong, large hands push at the C-shape sides of my breasts. The mounds push together around his face as again I feel his breath suck in the smell and feel of me.

  With his head still in place, the hands begin to gently massage. The sensation is almost comforting or relaxing, as I lose all sense of myself. His fingers travel down towards my nipples as he goes, brushing over them as they alternate. When he gets to his pointer fingers, they curl around the bare tip and slightly pull. Immediately, my body responds by pushing towards him, begging him for more.

  He moves his hands to focus just on my nipples. One finger becomes two while he tweaks gently at the center of my pink nipples. They are already hard, but
they become tiny mounds under his care, and I find myself wanting that gentle pain that comes from him touching me.

  While Gavin works at my chest, my hands have wandered towards his loose jeans. I place a hand inside his pocket to feel his hips against me. But by doing so, I brush up against his package. It’s thick and stiff, and I know from just a touch that it’s primed. My finger slithers up the base through the thin fabric, tentatively exploring what he has to work with.

  But it never ends. I can’t seem to find where it starts and finishes. So I do something I thought I never would. I grab at his belt, pulling him forward into me. He stops his work and looks down as I unhook his belt buckle. The button and zipper come undone easily so that his pants practically slide down his legs. Before I lose my confidence, I pull the fabric of his dark-colored boxers down as well so that his cock comes in full view.

  I haven’t seen many dicks in my life…I’ll admit that. But as a teenager, I couldn’t help but be a bit curious of what I was missing out on, so I would occasionally sneak on my brother’s computer to see a few of his saved “special” videos. The men in those movies had pretty average-sized penises…nothing to write home about.