by Jackson Kane
I never locked the fucking door last night. Any one of the bangers, dealers, or junkies outside could’ve rolled in here while I was passed out, but none did. Not that it mattered too much as the locks were a joke anyways. Management here didn’t even bother taking the busted ones off the wall because they just bolted on new ones above them. Lazy fucks.
Katya swept off a spot on the bed and put her purse down before she began to unzip her dress.
“Seriously?” I scoffed. Yeah, I was obviously not bashful and she was pretty enough, but not even my dick was in the mood for this. I cocked an eyebrow and held out my blood stained arms. Undeterred, her dress dropped to the floor, then her bra. I had to hand it to the Russian girls. They just didn’t give a fuck.
She looked at me and leaned forward. Gravity hung her full tits perfectly. They swayed and jiggled as she worked the black cotton panties down over her pale, two-handfuls ass. Katya straightened up and slid her hands between her pillowy mountains, over her smooth stomach, and down to an appetizing pussy. She had her pubic hair expertly groomed into a landing strip.
Didn’t take long for what little blood I had left to start flowing down to my cock.
Still, as hot as this girl was, thoughts of Star kept creeping in. I felt stupid for even thinking that way. Star was gone. I gave her up, and she was outta my fucking life completely. I should fuck this whore because of that fact alone! Katya was hot, smooth flesh. All tits, ass, and fuck-me. And Star…
Star was just another ghost to me.
At Katya’s grasp, my cock hardened fully. She spat on my swollen head to use her saliva as lube and slowly stroked her hand over the top, then back down the shaft to the balls. It felt so damn good. The girl knew how to handle a dick.
Completely unfazed by the bloody warpaint I was wearing, she leaned in to kiss me. This girl was a freak like I’d rarely seen. I turned my head at the last moment, so she kissed the side of my face instead. I never had any qualms about being kissed by whores before. I never sought it out, but if it happened, it happened.
This time, though, it felt extremely wrong.
Katya didn’t smell right either. Not bad. I just hated her perfume. The rings she wore were round and smooth, but I didn’t like their pressure as they crested the head of my cock. She wore her makeup way too heavy, and it made her already sad eyes look sleepy.
I was being critical, and I didn’t know why.
Her makeup? I’ve never even noticed makeup on a whore I was about to fuck before.
Her jerking quickened. She leaned back and squatted down in front of me. Her pussy lips separated, revealing the hidden pink folds beneath. She swallowed a finger just to pull it out in a kiss, then dragged it down the length of her curvy body. I could feel the heat from her pussy on my thigh. She rubbed her clit a moment then plunged the wet finger inside.
It was a hell of a show, but it still felt wrong and I didn’t know why.
But I knew why. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.
I hated getting bogged down by the past, and Star Keller was solidly in my past. So why couldn’t I just fuck the shit out of this hot-ass Russian whore? I would fuck her. I needed to.
You never get over your fear of heights while standing on the ground.
This was happening, I decided. Man the fuck up and get over her.
I grabbed the Russian girl’s waist tightly.
Those sleepy eyes opened to reveal a little life. Not fire, but just enough to show that she was here and wanted it. She let my rigid cock go and placed both hands on my shoulder.
I should wear a condom, as she was a whore. Fuck it.
I jerked her forward, and she hovered expectantly over my ready dick. Her pussy was wet, full, and waiting... but I stopped.
She looked confused and motioned for us to continue.
For all my bluster and bravado, I just couldn’t do it.
I pushed Katya up until she was standing on her two feet. My dick started to sag right away. Fuck! I couldn’t ignore the hold Star had on me.
My mind swelled with odd, crazy thoughts. If I could get out of all this, shake the kill teams, and hook up with the Lobos... maybe I could find Star again. I’d never been to New England. She could show me those changing leaves. It was an interesting array of feelings. Concern. Anticipation. Hope. Thinking about Star made me feel alarmingly human like someone removed me off a forgotten shelf and dusted me off.
Katya didn’t understand, and she tried coming in again, taking a dominant role this time.
The girl was good, but I was stronger. I ejected her away. Cute girl, but I was completely over her and this whole situation.
I needed to stop moping and get off my ass.
“Stop,” I ordered, but she didn’t. Yet to her credit, I’m sure she didn’t hear the word often, so I repeated it forcefully. “Stop!”
Katya looked utterly dejected. I forced myself not to smile at that, but the show was almost worth the blue-balled ticket price. She awkwardly stood up and dressed. She would remember the time she walked into a naked biker’s destroyed hotel room and left unfucked.
I finally found my legs and made my way over to the sink, bringing only my gun with me. I wasn’t bashful, and my pants couldn’t shoot me in the back so I left them. The TV was set aside, and the sink cleaned out in short order. I could see it in the glass shards littered about everywhere.
I was a fucking mess. To my surprise, I wouldn’t need stitches, as most of the cuts were shallow. There were just a shitload of them. What I needed was bandages. The warm water felt nice, though. Felt like I was washing off not just the layer of blood, but some of my grief as well.
“Steel Veins?”
I stopped cleaning my arms and turned to see the Russian girl across the room. Comprehension that I wasn’t Los Lobos was dawning on her as she held my vest.
The gun was in my hand like it was magnetized.
She staggered backwards and dropped my vest when she saw me staring at her. Katya threw her hands up and apologized.
I should have shot her right then.
Regardless of my current affiliation, she was the only one that knew a Steel Vein was at this hotel. If I let her walk out of here, I’d have fifteen minutes at most before the Lobos showed up. I drew down on her.
She screamed and fumbled to find the doorknob but was too terrified to break eye contact with me and look for it.
“Cut off their feet,” Bren’s memory whispered into my ear. He was right. The gears of a plan rotated in my head. I didn’t want to kill her because she was just doing her job. I smiled instead, realizing there was a better way to get what I wanted.
“Tell them all I’m here, darlin’. Every last one of them.” I lowered my gun and motioned for her to leave.
Katya didn’t hesitate. She found the door and left. Had she moved any faster, she’d have left a smoke trail.
When she was gone, I glanced back into what was left of the mirror.
The dark reflection was gone. It was just me in the mirror now.
“Let’s give ‘em a show.” I grinned. I was back in control.
The alarm clock was miraculously spared and was even still plugged in. Nine-seventeen a.m. read the digital display. Not enough time to escape. I could run out to my bike and bounce, but the Lobos would easily catch up with me. A running gun battle with a dozen bikes behind me was suicide. If I stayed here, I might actually have a chance, but only if I played my cards extremely well.
What other choice did I have?
I threw on my clothes, checked my boots for glass, then tossed them on as well. There was going to be plenty of bloodshed soon, but what I really dreaded was the next thing I had to do. As much as I really didn’t want to talk to him yet, I had to hope Top had his cell on him.
The handset of the hotel room phone was snapped in half, but the base looked otherwise usable. A dial tone. Excellent, considering that I had left my cell in my room back at Muse’s. I never brought it with me to the bar when we s
tayed there because I never needed it. I knew all my numbers by heart, and everyone I wanted to talk to was usually with us already.
“Yeah?” Top skeptically answered, not recognizing the number.
“It’s Remy,” I said, holding the speaker in one hand and the microphone in the other. Man, I really did a number on this room…
“Wonderin’ when you’d call,” he grumbled, both relieved and angry.
“Yeah, Top... been a busy few hours.”
“It sure as fuck has.” He started to rev up.
“How’s Tee?” I diverted.
“Well, he’s pretty pissed that you shot him!”
“Tell him to stop being a pussy. I knew he was wearing a vest.” I’d seen the vest straps through his shirt. Otherwise, I’d never have done that. Tee was probably the closest person I had to being a best friend.
“Yeah?” Top scoffed. “And Skinpipe? Rio?”
“Scum,” I spat. “Fuck em.”
“Doesn’t matter, Rem. They’re still Veins, and you know that! You don’t get to just walk away from that. What the fuck has gotten into you?” Top was intent to drag the conversation back on topic.
“This path...” I started slowly, rubbing my forehead with the speaker part of the phone and building up the nerve. “What we’ve become. It’s hollowed me out, Lawrence. Ever since Maria, I haven’t been able to find meaning in any of the shit we do. And now with Bren gone…”
Top didn’t say anything. It had been a long time since anyone had referred to him by his real name. I don’t know why I said it. It just slipped out. I know the whole Bren thing had been eating him alive as well.
“Club business,” Top swallowed hard before continuing. “It always comes first.”
“Still towing that line, huh?” I shook my head in disgust.
“I’m the chapter prez! All our guys look to me for answers!” He roared. “What the fuck do you want me to do?”
“Burn it all down!” I barked back immediately. “Fuck club business! Our brother died because some stupid, old fuck at a gas station out in the middle of nowhere owed us a couple grand! Was that worth it for you? Was it?”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought,” I continued. “I needed to get away from it all.”
“You picked a really, shitty fucking way to do it,” Top replied finally. “Deadeye’s raging over what you did to his son, Rio. And even more so because he vouched for you against the club. You went too far, little brother. That bitch has got you all fucked up. If you’d just let us deal with her—”
“Goddammit, Top! That’s exactly what I’m fucking talking about! Star wasn’t the problem. She didn’t kill Bren. We’ve gotten so fucked up these past few years that what? We kill everyone who’s inconvenient to us? For fuck’s sake, Lawrence!” I tried to rein it in, but I was too pissed. “You sent that dog, Rio, out to finish her off behind Deadeye’s back. How was that following the club’s bullshit rules?”
“It was for your own damn good, you stupid sonofabitch!” Top huffed incredulously. “She’s a witness to your murder! How do you not fucking get that?”
“Yeah, well, maybe I should’ve been put away for that.”
“There’s no way in hell I was going to stand by and watch my only flesh and blood get hauled off to prison for killing the fuck that killed Bren!” he ranted.
Through the phone, I could almost feel the spittle and protective anger flowing off the man. “It was my fault that Bren died because we shouldn’t have been there at all. All I wanted was to do one good thing and just deal with whatever consequences followed. And you – you and the rest of the club fought me tooth-and-fucking-nail at every turn.”
A long silence followed.
“The Steel Veins have lost their way,” I continued. “There was a time where I’d have taken a bullet for every last one of our brothers, but now? Shit, man! Would you take a bullet for Rio? For Skinpipe? Lorenzo? Twisty? What’s happened to us, man? I used to be so damn proud of the SV tattoo on my chest. Now I just wanna burn it off.”
I sighed, calming back down.
“Goddammit, Remy...” Top’s tone filled with resignation. Top knew my mind was made up. I knew he felt the shift, too. We’d never talked about it because some things were easier left unsaid. We were too proud to recognize it. Top still couldn’t face it fully. “Word went out that a convenience store went up last night in Vegas. Even out there, Deadeye’s got a few cops on the payroll.”
Hearing that made me apprehensive for Star. Shit, I knew they’d be chasing me up to this area, but I had no idea Deadeye’s reach with cops extended this far.
“They didn’t give him a name, but he’s convinced it’s you. It’s that damn Jap bike of yours that gave you away. He’s got a KT en route. Hell, they’re probably already in town. I can’t call them off, Rem. I’m sorry.”
That was the first bit of good news I’d heard all day.
“I don’t want you to call them off. Let Deadeye know that I’m at the Super 8 on Business Route 25.”
He howled with indignation. “Why would I—”
“Top. You gotta trust me this time. Who are they sending?”
“They tapped Kael first, but once they told him how it all shook out and that it was you, Kael told them to get fucked. Unfortunately, I think they settled on Lorenzo.”
Kael was an old friend who led one of the other kill teams. Lorenzo was just a bastard.
“Call Lorenzo directly and tell him where I am,” I said, quickly forming a plan in my head.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Top’s voice was filled with incredulity like I knew it would be. Lorenzo was a sadist of the purest form. Neither of us liked the man, but we were forced to respect the patch. He was a brother in strictly the most technical of senses.
“You gotta make sure he gets here as fast as possible. If Deadeye’s as pissed as you say, he’ll be looking to make it mean, and that’s Lorenzo’s team’s specialty.” Lorenzo’s team was no joke. They were the worst we had to offer. The nuclear option. Deadeye only called them when whole clubhouses had to be purged.
“Fine, I’ll call that piece-of-shit... But I’m tired of burying brothers! You’d better know what you’re fucking doing,” Top grumbled then hung up.
Yeah, I’d better.
I let the phone pieces drop away, then grabbed the rest of my shit. Checking the front window, I realized I needed to move fast. That call took too long. The front hallway and parking lot appeared empty. I saw the Russian whore hobbling out of the main check-in building. She must’ve snapped a heel and fell which would look like I beat her up. A rival club member on their turf getting rough with their working girls? That was probably going to get the Lobos here even faster.
I rolled up my vest, left my room, and headed toward the check-in area but stayed on the second floor.
Eight rooms over was the closest room to the fire stairwell that led to the back of the building. I tapped on the door.
Nothing.
I moved to the next one and tapped a little louder. With my ear pressed against the wood, I could hear mumbling inside.
Good. I knocked again, louder. I could break any of these doors in, but that wouldn’t help me. I needed to be let inside so I could lock it behind me.
“Fuck off!” the voice behind the door warned.
I knocked again.
The door opened to the length the slide-bar would allow. “What’ya want? Who—”
I threw my shoulder into the open door, popping the slide-bar off its screws, and knocked down the fat fuck behind it. As long as the door worked fine, I didn’t care about its back-up restraint.
A woman screamed and covered herself with the sheets up to her nose.
I already had my gun out, oscillating between them so they got real quiet real quickly. I closed the door gently behind me.
“Take whatcha ya want,” groaned the fat man on the ground.
I ignored him and peeled back the curtain. The ma
nager was just outside the check-in building on his cell phone, looking at the room I had rented. There were only two ways this was going to go down, and it all depended on who was on the other line of that call.
“Whatcha want?” he pleaded, waddling his way back to the bed like a turtle after he’d righted himself. Mustering a spine and with some indignation, he demanded, “Do you know who I am?”
I frowned, turning back at him, then gave the room a once-over with my eyes. His briefcase leaned against the wall. There was also a pressed suit draped over a chair and empty bottles of cheap wine filling the small waste basket. A wedding band sat on atop his wallet on the nightstand so he could look at it while he fucked his whore. His wife and kids were probably at home waiting for him to come back from some bullshit conference.
Everything about this guy screamed middle management. He wasn’t going to be a problem.
“A cautionary tale.” I returned my attention to the window. “Now shut the fuck up and get in the bathroom! Both of you!”
“How dare you—” he started but was easily interrupted.
“And if that door isn’t locked when I come over there and check—” I gave them a half-glance back, squinting slightly out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t have time for his false bravado. “—I’m going to fuck you both to death with this gun.”
The man huffed but allowed himself to be dragged away. The woman wrapped the bedsheets around her to preserve some laughable modicum of modesty.
The irony forced the corner of my mouth up into a sliver of a smile. I rolled my gun in a hurry-up motion, and they found a little hustle to get into the bathroom.
All I could do now was stay by the window and wait.
I riffled through the man’s wallet and pocketed all the cash he had. When I came across the picture of his smiling wife and two little girls, I decided to snag the man’s wedding ring as well. I wasn’t planning on taking it originally. Pawning rings like these were usually more trouble than they were worth. Many places checked them against the stolen items registry. If I had the time, which I didn’t, I would be better off melting it down. Either way, this cheating fuck sure as hell didn’t deserved to keep it. I pocketed the ring and took out the book I’d snagged from the convenience store. I was through Hercules’ Seventh Labour, the Cretan Bull, when I heard motorcycle engines approach. Music to my ears. If it was the police that showed up, I was fucked.