by Adair Rymer
“Poor dear, It's okay, you're safe. That's over now.”
I needed desperately to believe her. So I did.
The conversation became lighter and easier as I finished breakfast. We were even able to joke a little bit. It felt like I was having tea with a friend I hadn't seen in forever and that was such a good feeling. The hotel dining room was starkly different than that terrible bar. It was so normal. Maybe it was going to be okay after all. I even managed to not think about Remy, at least for a little while.
She said that the nearest town was an hour drive and that she'd be able to drive me there in a few days when she picked up produce for the hotel. The thought of being stuck out here that long scared me a little, but she said she'd be able to put me to work cleaning the rooms for some money in the meantime if I wanted. I didn't have anything with me, no phone, money or ID.
Although Mercy didn't know for certain, she figured that the bikers would probably be gone tomorrow, anyways. Most of them had civilian jobs and had to be back home for the work week. If I just kept my head down for another day or so I'd be fine.
“Excuse me a moment, little bird. I can't have an employee wearing soggy jeans and a t-shirt.” Mercy winked at me and waved down one of her girls that walked by. They talked over by the concierge desk as I finished my tea. I'd never cleaned rooms before, aside from my own. I'm sure it couldn't be that difficult. There's an art to folding the blankets that I was genuinely curious of. They always get them so neat and tight.
Mercy came back with a housekeeping outfit—a pair of khakis and a brown collared shirt. It looked dry, I wasn't picky at this point. I thanked her again, changed and followed my, I guess, mentor upstairs to my first room.
Gloria was the woman's name. She was an older Latino woman that didn't speak a word of English. My pitiful high school Spanish was about to be seriously put to the test. Gloria was super sweet, though.
All smiles, she patiently listened to my butchered attempts at words like bano and limpio, where she nodded emphatically and acted out the scene. She'd hold up a finger and then make the vacuuming motion, then run off to the bathroom where she would hold up a second finger and feign scrubbing. “Mira. Mira,” she repeated.
From what I gathered she wanted me to watch the way she did everything first and that was fine by me. The woman was so efficient and clearly took some measure of pride in her work. Not being able to speak my language didn't stop the wonderful woman from making very simple jokes about smelly customers. She'd plug her nose and wave away the fake stench, and then she would laugh and laugh which in turn caused me to laugh. I wasn't laughing at her I was laughing with her.
It was the first time during all this insanity that I was able to laugh sincerely. God, it felt so uniquely normal. Like I had just woken up from a coma.
Gloria had a little radio with her that played very cheerful salsa music and used the melody to dance around the room. She swept and dusted and mopped and made the bed, which I immediately had to touch. She was quick to playfully slap my hand and make the tsk tsk sound as she cocked one finger back and forth.
My smile beamed as I backed away, apologizing. She palmed her forehead and gave me an exaggerated sigh before bumping me with her butt and dancing back to work. It was so nice to see someone so full of life in a miserable place like this. Begrudgingly, it gave me a little hope that yes, this would all be over soon and yes, everything was going to be okay.
Gloria's seemingly fixed, pleasant smile eroded and her dancing stopped. There was a figure leaning in the doorway. It was Remy, immediately my pulse began to quicken.
“¿Qué quieres? Estamos trabajando.” She stepped between me and him.
His presence alone seemed to darken the room. Seeing him there was the slamming of a door that held a room with my normal life. It felt like someone sucked the very air from my lungs. He wore his black denim pants and a dark grey button-up shirt with half the buttons undone. His red rimmed eyes and lazy posture spoke volumes to what was probably a severe hangover.
“Sal un momento, necesito hablar con Star.” Remy knew Spanish?!
“No. Ella está trabajando y no tiene tiempo para desperdiciar con motociclistas.” Gloria sounded really defensive. I could tell she was trying to protect me.
Remy pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “No te preocupes, sere buena. Seguro que a Muse no le interesará. Después de todo, el cliente siempre tiene la razón. Y ahora mismo yo soy el cliente.”
Gloria turned back to me with upturned eyes, looking worried. I gave her a weak smile and nodded to her that it was okay. She was such a beautiful woman.
“Diez minutos.” She regarded Remy with the eyes of a mother bear facing down a hunter, then slapped away his outstretched hand. “No quiero tu asqueroso dinero. Dáselo a la chica.” Gloria brushed past him with a considerable amount of disdain, just before she stepped out she tapped her wrist and held up both hands, fingers stretched wide. I think she was telling me that she'd be back in ten minutes.
Remy took me in for a long moment before advancing. If my face hadn’t betrayed my worry, my legs certainly did, because before I knew it my butt hit the wall behind me. I was finished retreating, apparently. He didn't say a word, he just advanced. I wasn't willing to let him drag me away from my normal life, at least not without a fight. I remembered that I still had that paring knife on me.
“Stay back!” I waved my knife at him. Remy was unfazed, even after the long, shallow slice I put on his chest. He just coolly grabbed my hand and discarded the knife as if he was removing a child's play thing. With deceptive speed, he'd bound my arms to my sides. His chest blossomed red but he didn't seem to notice.
Those piercing black eyes tore through me with laser precision. I was paralyzed by his strong grip and hypnotized in his gaze. He said nothing. After an agonizing silence he leaned in, the stubble from his chin grazed across my cheek. Goosebumps. His hot breath prickled my ear as he finally spoke. “Don't trust Muse.” His throaty voice rumbled into my ear, then worked its way through my entire body as a full shiver.
My body lit up at the points we connected. His knee on my outer thigh, his bicep pressed into my breast. The heat that emanated off him was almost enough to make me swoon. Damn this man and what he can do to me. “She helped me.” All the strength I had left poured from me to keep my voice from cracking.
He hadn't showered yet, his scent was thick and manly. I should've been repulsed, but I drank it in. My eyes closed, I let it—him—permeate me. He reeked of raw, carnal masculinity. Thankfully, I couldn't smell her on him.
“Then why did she send one of her girl's to fetch Top?” Remy whispered.
My heart smashed into the back of my teeth. The horrible pressure of Top's hand greasily sliding down my clit crept back into my muscles. It vividly burned in my mind. Nausea bubbled inside of me. Panic shot through me with such urgency that I started shaking. Please no. Not him, not again.
“Relax,” he said. “I took care of it.”
“Oh my god.” First it was frenzied horror, then the betrayal. Mercy... that raging cunt! “Muse, how could she? She fed me, clothed me... She gave this job.”
“Simple economics. Top is Muse's best customer.” Remy drifted away to lock eyes again. Then he released one of my arms to hold up that hundred he'd tried to give Gloria. “The customer always gets what he wants.” Bill in hand, Remy dragged his fingers between my tits. One of the two things I didn't get from Muse was a bra.
Through the strained fabric of the work shirt, I could feel the meandering path his calloused fingertips took in explicit detail. His cracked, uneven nails took over when he hit the waistband of my khakis. I lost myself in that descending sting. He abandoned the folded money in the tighter part of the waistband but ever lower did his nails venture.
Panties were the other thing I didn't get from Muse. Not that it would've mattered. Through my prickles, I felt him slide between my lips to gently flick the tip of my clit. “Last night I had the strangest dream, an
d this morning, when I woke up in my room, I began to wonder. Was that girl with the glasses really a dream?” He turned his hand around. I bit my lip and closed my eyes. He continued. “And did I hear that girl softly moan?”
His weathered fingertips, rapidly getting wetter, explored the outside of my pussy, tracing every ridge, every curve. I wouldn't give him what he was after. I'd die before I moaned for him. Unfortunately, I felt an unstoppable deathly urge swelling inside me. I bit harder.
“What I wouldn't give to hear that sound again.” I couldn't—no. I wouldn't open my eyes. I knew he was watching me. Reading me. I could see his cruel eyes burning through my eyelids. He toyed with me. I wanted to feel him inside of me, even just his fingers. I wanted it more than food this morning. More than dry clothes. More than every fucking indie graphic novel. More than the goddamn Merrimack River. More than my entire, boring, fucking NORMAL life.
Sirens? Like a distant bobbing raft in my sea of lust I noticed the sound. Definitely sirens. I heard it before Remy did, so when my eyes flicked open I witnessed the eruption of change in his features. His eyelids shot wide. That sensual gaze burned away leaving only a glare of abject anger in its charred remains. I have never been more terrified in my entire life.
“Please tell me you're not stupid enough to have called the fucking cops?” he asked.
“I—I—” All my strength gone.
His hand rocketed out of my pants, wrapped around my throat and slammed me into the wall with brutal force. I could smell myself on him. “Tell me!” My god, he's going to kill me. I'm going to die smelling my own pussy. But as quick as it happened it was gone. He broke off from me and checked the window. Red and blue lights from two cruisers pulled into the main lot then circled around back to the biker's lot. “You are making it so goddamn hard to keep you alive.” He picked up my paring knife and roughly slapped it into my hand. “Hold onto this. You will need it.”
And with that, Remy ran out of the room.
Chapter 4
Remy
I tore through the hall with the callousness of a charging rhino. Guests were shoved violently when they were too slow on their feet. With every footfall my brain told me to stop. To let it play out as it should. I didn't owe this girl anything, she was nothing to me. Just another disposable piece of ass that littered the side of my road to hell.
Except that I knew her name. Star, it shined brightly in my mind. There was something behind those defiant, hazel eyes that, as much as I pushed away, they always pushed back. She'd been on my mind too much, an itch on my brain that I couldn't scratch.
Yeah, I won't kid myself. She looked a hell of a lot like Maria but I buried that pain a long time ago. If anything Star was even prettier.
My life was simpler before she showed up. Ride, fight, fuck. There was a beauty in that simplicity. No one had any expectations as to the kind of man I was— a smoking gun, and a damn good one at that. The best. I knew I was a bad man, I could accept that. These are the decisions I've made. The stones I've cast.
There's always been a curtain of darkness in my soul, but with her... I could feel these pin pricks in that black fabric. Star's innocence and fiery defiance threatened to unravel me.
I brought the fingers I used on her to my nose. Goddamn if she didn't smell even better on the inside.
Before I knew it, the bar room door loomed before me. I'd been so lost in thought that I hadn't bothered to slow down. Fuck it. I threw my shoulder into it and smashed it damn near off the hinges. I came in like a battering ram. Cries of surprise rang out between everyone that was awake and the thunderous clap of the door woke everyone who wasn't. I knew how to make an entrance.
The room had turned into a fucking armory. Our stash of reserve weapons were dumped unceremoniously across the bar. Shotguns, pistols, riffles, bats, knives. More death was littered atop that shattered glass and booze strewn mahogany slab than was locked up at the GPD. Good. When the uneasy tolerance between us and the pigs goes ass over teakettle, we're going to need every last piece of hardware.
“Where's Top?” I barked, not seeing the big bald bastard anywhere.
Crutch was the only one that didn't look like old shit, warmed over. “Outside with the cops,” he said. I started for the biker's door immediately. I needed to get out there before the cops let slip that it was Star that called them. If Top had any reason to suspect her, he would walk back inside and break her in half. I couldn't let that happen. “But he told us to wait inside!”
I slowed enough to whistle to Tee. My handgun was already sailing toward him when he looked up. I made damn sure I wasn't going out strapped. The cops would be looking for any reason to open up on us. Part of me was looking forward to that day, but not this time.
“—many of these bikes belong to the Steel Veins?” I caught them mid conversation. It didn't sound like they got to why they were here yet, which was good. I wouldn't have to back peddle. “Stop!” Someone cried out. “Stay where you are!”
“Easy, easy. Just grabbing some aspirin outta my bike, that's still legal, right?” I walked up beside Top with my arms spread wide. It took a herculean effort to suppress the shit-eating grin that I wore behind my face.
There were two, well out of arms reach from us, and two further back using their car doors as shields, just in case things got hairy. The two in the back had their guns drawn, but lowered. These boys were rookies but they knew who we were and knew not to fuck around. Infamy made me smile.
“I told everyone to stay inside,” Top said in a low voice.
I shrugged. “Y'know I'm hard of hearing in the morning. Haven't had my coffee yet.”
“The fuck happened to your chest?” The cop closest to us asked. Fresh from training, he was so green, I could swear grass was about to sprout any second.
“Cut myself shaving,” I stated matter-of-factly. I'd completely forgotten about that ragged little love tap. With that lusty memory cascaded the rest. Her up against the wall. My hand making its way down her stomach. The heat that came from her cunt as I worked my fingers—I had to clear the whole, hot mess from my mind. As much as I loved making cops squirm I didn't feel like explaining a raging erection.
“You shave your chest?” The suspicion was blatantly apparent.
“Sometimes. The girls love it.”
Top interjected. “Why are you here?”
“We received a distress call about an hour ago. I'll tell you right now, once back up gets here we will be walking through that building. Now, are we going to have trouble with you, or your thugs, or are you going to let us do our job?” The cop asked in as stern a voice as he could muster when talking to the unarmed giant. It was great to watch the by-the-numbers police work. Body shifted to the side, front hand out in a calming gesture while his back hand reached for his pistol. This kid was a delight.
“Not at all, officer.” Top put up his hands in disingenuous submission. I bet he didn't even realize he was doing it. A lifetime of solving problems internally and generally being on the wrong side of the law made it incapable for Top to obediently respond to cops, and the cops sure as hell saw that. They would be very very careful when dealing with this outlaw. “Who was it that called?”
“Fuck you, that's who. On the ground, both of you.” The cop's confidence was immediately bolstered by the familiar wailing of more incoming sirens.
“The fuck is Muse? Why isn't she out here?” I asked Top. I completely ignored the cop's order. He had a better chance of getting us to dance the Macarena.
“I told her, I'd handle it.” Top was equally unfazed.
I shook my head. Top was a prideful sonofabitch to a fault. Muse would've had them eating out of her pussy by now. She also would've had them give up more details on exactly who called them. I guess it's a good thing she's wasn't here. Granted, the likeliness of us getting our asses shot just skyrocketed.
“I said get on the fucking ground! Now!” The cop had his gun out and pointed at us. Like dominoes, the others followed suit
.
Captain Jeffries' souped-up police pickup screeched in. He was a fat fuck with a mustache who always wore a cowboy hat and boots. “Stand down, Tavares,” Jeffries huffed. “Got a call from Muse. False alarm.”
“But, Captain, it's protocol to search—”
“What part of stand down did you not understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Tavares and the rest lowered their guns.
Jeffries made a shooing motion. “Now get on back outta here.”
The painstakingly concealed shit-eating grin broke through my impassive facade. Fuck them, we won. There was nothing quite like seeing cops walk off all tail between their legs.
“Top. Remy.” When the patrol cars pulled away he addressed us a lot less formally.
Top cut right to the heart of it. “What happened, John? Who put in the call?”
“Nah, it was nothing. Just some whispers. Probably some kid got scared around all the big, tough bikers.” He took his hat off, wiped his brow and fanned himself before putting it back on. “I was on my way over to see Muse, anyhow.”
“The caller. Sound like a girl in her early twenties?” Top was fishing.
Jeffries looked unconcerned with the whole ordeal but was about to speak regardless so I cut in and beat him to it. “Probably my fault.” There was a mangled box of cigarettes in my pocket that I fished out. Couldn't find my lighter, though. “I grabbed some bitch's ass this morning. Her boyfriend got in my face so I put him into the wall. Not a big deal, I let him go right away but she did run back into the room and probably called you.” Plausible enough, it seemed to stick. I wanted to change the subject but I couldn't keep laying it on or it'd look like I was covering for something.