Enforcer's Price

by Sarah Hawthorne

  “So, your whole transmission is shot.” He shrugged and handed me an invoice. “Or you sell us the car for scrap. We’d pay you two hundred for it. You could walk out with a little cash in your pocket.”

  I would have tried to fix it myself, but I couldn’t even afford the parts. Tate would probably pick up the tab for me. But I didn’t want to lean on the club. I would do this on my own. I might have to give up a little bit of freedom, but I would keep my integrity.

  I signed the title over.

  My shoulders were heavy as I left the auto shop. My first paycheck wasn’t gonna begin to cover the cost of a new car and my rent. Even with my new job, loan payments would leave me in negative numbers at the end of the month.

  I dragged my feet four blocks to the bus stop. There was no bench, so I sat on the curb next to the sign. I leaned my head against the post and waited.

  A Harley rumbled behind me and my stupid heart jumped just a little. I knew it wasn’t Colt, so I didn’t bother looking up.

  “Hey.” Roach sat down next to me on the curb. “Where ya headed? I can give you a ride. Or get Tate’s little truck?”

  I shook my head. “No thanks. I’m just gonna go get the money that’s owed to me.”

  Robby. I had an idea of where he had been staying before I went to the hospital. This would be the perfect opportunity to show up at his doorstep and get back what was mine. I was gonna demand that five grand he took from me.

  Roach narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “What do you mean? What money?”

  Before I could explain, the bus rumbled up and Roach had to hurry to move his bike. I scrambled up the steps and the bus left Roach in a cloud of exhaust. I didn’t need the prospect to fight my battles for me. I could do this on my own.

  It took over an hour and three buses to get to the little trailer where Robby was staying. I knocked on the door.

  A brunette answered. “What do you want?” She was in tattered pajamas and her left eye was twitching. This was definitely Robby’s kinda place.

  “I’m Robby’s ex. I’m looking for him. Got something for him.” I smiled. “Have you seen him?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Don’t know him. The chick who lived here before, she used to rent rooms, but she overdosed a couple of months back. He must have been one of hers. Either way, he’s gone now.” She slammed the door.

  I had no clue where he could be. Turning to head down the steps, I saw a Harley and a brown truck. Of course. The prospect had followed me, and this time he brought Tate as well.

  Groaning, I walked over to them. Might as well get this over with.

  “Hey.” Tate jogged up to me. “What’re you doing on this side of town?”

  I shrugged. “Robby owes me money, so I thought I’d come looking for him.”

  Running his hand through his beard, Tate looked around. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Robby is dead.”

  “What?” I frowned. I didn’t remember much from what went down in the warehouse, in fact I was trying to forget most of it. I remembered telling Becky to run, but Robby had been very much alive then. “What happened?”

  Tate patted my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Robby’s dead. That’s all I can really say.”

  It hit me like a blow to the chest, and I knew. “Colt killed him, didn’t he? At the warehouse?” I was surprised to discover I was crying.

  Tate grimaced. “It’s club business, that’s all I can say.”

  Which meant yes. The man I loved had killed my ex-husband.

  I started walking back toward the bus stop. I had loved Robby at one point. It was a stupid, childish, teenage infatuation, but it was still a form of love. When he started doing meth, I moved out and I mourned his life then. Now I was mourning the idea of, what? My ex reforming himself into a decent person? Even without drugs, Robby hadn’t been very nice.

  “Krista?” Tate caught up to me. “Look, I know you don’t want any help. But it’s getting dark and this is a shitty side of town. At least let me give you a ride home. Okay?”

  I looked around. The sun had already set and it would be dark soon. The trailers and low-income housing looked menacing in the remaining shadows. One ride home wouldn’t be leaning on the club too much. I nodded and climbed into the truck with Tate.

  Colt had killed Robby. Did Colt feel sorry about what he did? Truth be told, I was a little relieved. I was sorry that Robby had lost his life. I was sorry that Colt had to kill someone—that must have been emotionally heart-wrenching. But I wasn’t sorry that Robby would be gone forever. I didn’t have to fear that he would show up unannounced somewhere, like Becky’s school, and try to shake me down for money. Or hell, use me as collateral for some sort of drug deal.

  We pulled up in front of my apartment and I got out. “Hey, Tate,” I said through the open window. “I don’t care if it’s his call—no more prospects. Okay? I’m out.”

  Turning my back to him, I headed home. Alone.

  * * *

  Two days later, I’d just picked Becky up from Señora Lopez’s house when I noticed a well-dressed man sitting on our front porch. I tightened my grip on Becky’s hand and considered my options. But then Roach stepped out onto the porch and waved to me. The two men met us in the parking lot.

  “Hi, ma’am. I’m Adam from Evergreen Auto Dealership. Congratulations on your new vehicle.” The guy smiled and handed me a key. It was sleek, with buttons and a fob with more buttons. I ran my fingers over them.

  I turned to Roach. “Why is Colt doing this?”

  Roach shrugged. “Because you’re his old lady. That’s what guys do, right? They buy their old ladies things. You needed a car, so he bought one.”

  I fingered the key. I wanted it so much. I wanted to put the key into the ignition and hear the purr of an engine that was reliable. That didn’t burn oil, that didn’t overheat in the summer.

  “He has to ask me, Roach. Don’t you get it? He has to tell me that he loves me, or at the very least talk to me before I can be his old lady.”

  The prospect shrugged and Adam shoved his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t fair to be frustrated with these guys, when Colt was the one who was doing all of this. I looked down that the keys.

  “Is there paperwork for this vehicle?” I asked the man from the dealership.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s in the vehicle. Would you like to take a look?”

  Adam opened up all the doors of a small yellow SUV. Becky climbed in and began to crawl around. I tried not to look, but it was fully loaded. Power everything, even a sunroof. He popped open the glove compartment and took out a title and bill of sale.

  The owner of the vehicle was listed as the Law Offices of Gerald Englestein.

  Not even his name. He didn’t even care enough to put his name on the title. I just wanted one tangible thing that said it was from him. One thing that said he cared. Money magically appearing in my account and a car showing up were all nice. But they weren’t personal. They weren’t him.

  I shook my head. “Becky, come on out of there.” I handed the keys back to Adam. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out.”

  “Oh, um, there’s one more thing.” Adam retrieved an envelope from the glove compartment.

  It was a letter, on official stationery from the lawyer’s office.

  Ms. Forrester,

  My client hopes you approve of the color. However, he enjoys when you change your mind. You may exchange it for anything of your liking.

  Sincerely,

  Gerald Englestein, esq.

  Yellow. Right before we made love the very first time, I had told him I changed my mind and my favorite color was yellow.

  The signature on the letter started to blur. He’d thought of me.

  I smiled as tears ran down my cheeks. “I’ll take it.�
�

  * * *

  Forty thousand dollars was now on hold in my account, courtesy of anonymous wire transfers. It was just sitting, available if I needed it. After the car, the only logical thought was that the money belonged to Colt. But he wasn’t there. There was no personal contact, no phone calls. Not even a text. I used to check my phone every hour, hoping for something. But now I put it in my desk at work and only answered if I heard the ringtone for Becky’s school.

  I put away the last file and shoved the filing drawer closed. Quitting time.

  “We’ll see you at the restaurant soon, right?” Karen, the office manager, always invited me out for drinks. She was newly divorced and drank a lot. I went once on my first week, but I liked to go straight home. I would spend the evening with Becky and be in bed by ten. Tonight I had decided to let my hair down and go out with Karen.

  “Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.” I smiled and waved goodbye to the rest of the girls from the office.

  It wasn’t that my life was boring, it was just different. I worked Monday through Friday, which was new. When Becky was out of school on the weekends, I was able to play with her and take her places. I wore flats to work—never high heels—and no one said a word. Robby never stopped by to shake me down for cash. The only thing missing was the club.

  The guys had laid down their lives when I was in trouble. I knew that now. The club was real. The guys drank, they whored, they had contests farting and burping, their laundry was downright scary, but they were real.

  Most of all, I missed Colt. I had some pretty stupid dreams where I was Cinderella and he, the handsome prince, would show up at my apartment and the glass slipper would fit and we would live happily ever after. The worst dream involved both Colt and Robby. Robby had just shot me up and I was starting to go under, but through the fog, I would hear Colt tell me he loved me. He always sounded like he cared. But it was just a dream.

  My pencils rattled in their little cup as I cleaned up my desk. I got off work at five o’clock on the dot every day now. I picked Becky up from Señora Lopez’s at half past. Becky was now in the later dance class, but she didn’t seem to mind. I made dinner at night and tucked Becky in. I guess the biggest adjustment was that my daughter got to sleep at home every night for the whole night. There was no more picking her up from the sitter at three in the morning when I got off a shift.

  I didn’t dread the job conversation with Becky anymore. At some point she was going to grow up and ask me what my job was. Now I wouldn’t have to lie or give a huge explanation justifying my actions. Things were easy now.

  But they were hard too. The hardest part was the loneliness. Sometimes, after Becky went to bed, I would pretend that Colt was coming to pick me up on a date. Once I even went outside and stared at my yellow car. I stroked the yellow hood and remembered the words from my dream. “I love you, babe.”

  Janice tried to take me out dancing or drinking at bars to meet a guy. She’d never done that before I quit the club, so I knew she was taking pity on me and wanted me to go out, have a life.

  I picked up the phone a million times to call Colt. Once, after a night out with Janice, I called him after my third appletini. He didn’t answer; I didn’t leave a message. He never called back.

  Every time I heard the pipes on a Harley, I looked. Roach and the other prospects gave me my space, but they were always there. Never him.

  I put away my last file and grabbed my purse. Karen and a couple of the other girls would be meeting me at a bar tonight. Janice was watching a movie with Becky until I got home. Everything was perfect. Except for me—I was walking around with a big hole inside me.

  Slinging my purse on my shoulder, I waved goodbye to the janitor and left the office. I headed out to the parking lot, where my yellow SUV was parked under the oak tree.

  My phone buzzed. Probably Janice asking if she could order pizza. Glancing down, I saw a familiar number. Tate.

  Party tonight. Be our guest.

  I almost dropped my phone. It was the first time Tate had texted me since I left the clubhouse. I wondered if he had found a replacement yet. Probably not, if he was texting me. But there was no way I could do it. The thought of turning a trick made my skin crawl. I had thrown out all of my dancer costumes. Now I was just a plain old suburban single mom, with a wardrobe of sensible slacks and black flats to prove it.

  Bettes says hi.

  I sat in my car and stared at my phone. Bettes wanted me there. Tate’s old lady. Now that I was no longer a whore, had I somehow been accepted into the realm of old lady? Although it would be a pretty weird status since I didn’t have a man.

  Well, I did have a man. He just lived in California and didn’t care enough to even talk to me. Sure, he sent me gifts because he felt guilty about what had happened between us, but he’d probably already found someone to date. A nice girl who wasn’t a retired hooker.

  After backing out my car, I drove through the parking lot. If I turned left, I could go out with Karen from the office and go home to cold pizza. If I turned right, I could go visit the guys at the club and pretend I was Colt’s old lady.

  I turned right.

  On the drive there, I kept telling myself that I only wanted to see the guys, catch up on what I had missed. I would just go, say hi and leave. That was it.

  Because it was just past five o’clock, I got stuck in the famous Seattle traffic. All the commuter traffic was fleeing downtown, so I sat in stop-and-go on the freeway. I thought about texting back, telling them I would be on my way, but I didn’t. If I chickened out just before I got to the clubhouse, I didn’t want anyone to know.

  The parking lot at the club was packed. Row after row of shining chrome parked in orderly lines. One thing I’d learned in my time working at the club was that bikers were fastidious about parking their bikes. It always made me laugh, until I figured out the reason why. They often needed to make a fast getaway. Lining up their bikes facing outward in almost military precision was a must.

  But this was more bikes than I’d ever seen at the clubhouse. This was more like a rally or a run, not that I’d ever been to one.

  The big metal door was propped open, so I walked in. It was a sea of black leather. The bar was basically standing room only. There had to be nearly fifty guys, all crammed in, and I didn’t know a single one of them. No one really noticed me as they drank and smoked and laughed.

  The patches on their backs all said Demon Horde. This was Colt’s club. My heart dropped. What the hell was going on?

  I looked around and spotted a bit of red among the black. Bettes. Fighting my way through the crowd, I found all of the women gathered around a table in the back.

  “What’s going on?” I had to yell. There wasn’t any music playing, but with so many conversations, it was hard to hear.

  “It’s a patch-over,” Bettes said in my ear as she gave me a hug.

  Theresa, Mule’s old lady, stepped up to hug me as well. It was a surprise. I guess now that I was no longer a whore, all was forgiven? I hugged her back. No matter what had caused the change, I was glad for it.

  Holy shit. The women were all wearing their Property Of vests. I looked around at the throng of people and back to the ladies. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen one of them wearing their vests. It was just a black leather vest, but on the back was a patch declaring that they were property of their man. Whatever was going on, it was big.

  “Who is patching in?”

  Theresa looked at me, confused. “You should know. It was the whole reason Colt came up here. Didn’t he tell you?”

  I narrowed my eyes. What was Theresa talking about? The wives and old ladies had always given me a cold shoulder. Were they playing a trick on me?

  Bettes slung her arm around me. “I don’t think they had much time to talk. All of their alone time was spent d
oing something else.”

  The girls laughed and I looked around, confused. If Colt was in town, Tate or Skeeter or someone would have told me. What was going on?

  I should find one of the guys and ask what was up. But I had worked at the club long enough to know that you don’t ask a biker his business. There were a lot of other bikers here, from the Demon Horde—something official was going on.

  I craned my neck around and searched the crowd.

  “You’re not gonna find him. They’re having church right now,” Bettes explained. “They’ll all be out in a minute. The Kings are patching in to the Horde.”

  My knees went weak. I would see Colt again. If the Kings were patching into the Horde, Colt might be up in Tacoma from time to time. I caught myself before I could fall over. Damn, I was a pathetic idiot. It had been four months since he left without a word. If he wanted me, he would have told me by now.

  A huge roar went through the crowd and I turned to look. All of my friends, the guys I missed so much, were walking out of the meeting room. Each one wore a brand-new cut. The black was dark and not faded, the leather wasn’t creased. Most of the guys looked happy, a few were stone-faced.

  A smaller man was out in front. He jumped up onto a barstool and threw his arms in the air. The crowd quieted instantly. Whoever this small man was, he was important.

  “Let’s hear it for the newest chapter of the Demon Horde!”

  The cheering began, long and loud. Bettes gave me a hug.

  After a minute, the crowd quieted again, but I couldn’t really see what was going on. I strained to see over heads, but my view was totally blocked.

  “I’d like to introduce the new VP of the Tacoma chapter of the Demon Horde, Bart Coulter.”

  Who was that? I strained to look.

  Colt.

  His name was Bart?

  We were in the same room together, but it was so fucking crowded, I couldn’t see a thing. I stopped jumping and replayed the stranger’s words. Colt was the new VP of Tacoma. He was going to live here. In Tacoma. With me.