Beyond Redemption: Joker (Serpents MC Las Vegas Book 1)

by Barbara Nolan

  Gun leveled, Joker took up most of the foyer as the two guys spun around, hands automatically reaching for their guns.

  Joker raised his gun higher. “Nice and slow, and nobody gets hurt.” He waved his gun toward the carpet. “Guns on the floor, easy like.”

  The two exchanged a look and said something in Spanish.

  “That’s right, you are in deep shit.” Daisy removed their ankle weapons and collected the guns on the carpet.

  Joker edged them into the living room and pulled out the two chairs by the table. “Sit.” He pushed them down, then looked at Daisy. “Get the duct tape outta my duffel.”

  She lifted out the silver tape, and he cocked his head.

  “Never leave home without it.”

  While Daisy secured the one guy’s wrists and ankles to the wooden chair, Joker trained his gun on the other one. When she was done, he looked them over.

  “You working for Rico? Come to end me?”

  When they stared back, Daisy translated his words into Spanish. They hesitated and then nodded. Joker pressed his gun against one guy’s temple, then did the same thing to the other guy. Their eyes widened, and they pushed back in the chairs. No language barrier where a .45 was concerned.

  “I should blow your fuckin’ heads off, but I’m a little OCD and don’t like messes, so my girl here is gonna tape your mouths shut, and you’re gonna stay nice and quiet.”

  Daisy stretched the tape over their mouths and around their heads. Making it impossible to break free. They’d have to wait twenty-four hours for the maid, and by that time, he and Daisy should be long gone from South Beach. Joker threw their guns in the bedroom safe, stuck his gun into his waistband, and shoved the duct tape back into his duffel. Such a useful tool.

  The two guys wriggled against the tape, but she’d done a first-rate job of strapping them down. Looked like they’d be pissing themselves and getting damn hungry over the next few hours. As a final precaution, Joker hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, which made Daisy laugh as she pushed through the metal stairwell door.

  Down in the garage, he found his bike in the area designated for motorcycles. Joker ran his hand over the chrome. He hated leaving it behind, but the pipes of his Harley made sneaking up on anyone impossible.

  He unlocked his saddlebag, retrieved another gun, and handed it to Daisy. “I’m sure you know how to use one of these, right?”

  She held up her palms. “No, I don’t like guns.”

  “All the jobs you’ve pulled, and you don’t know how to use a gun.”

  “A good sting is about finesse, not violence. If it’s done right, the mark never knows he’s been hit.”

  “Fine.” He stuck the gun into his duffel. “This oughta be interesting.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fifteen minutes later, they were in a back alley that separated Club Mambo from an old-school Art Deco building that faced the ocean. The salty air, the stink of garbage, and the breaking waves all conflicted with the deep bass of the house music coming from inside the club. Halfway down, they spied a late, late model Toyota Camry.

  Joker eyeballed the dented fender and the corroded door panel. “Good thing I brought the duct tape.”

  “Darius has a few of these beaters he uses to transport product up to Fort Lauderdale. I called him earlier to have one ready so I could stash the money.”

  “And you could’ve just run out then?” A twinge of guilt for not believing her jetted through him.

  “After I secured the money, the guilt hit along with an unusual amount of blood from my nose.” Daisy smirked over her shoulder before she pulled on the dented back door. He came up behind her and watched as she pushed aside the carpet and jiggled the floorboard to reveal the money. “This new conscience of mine is going to kill me.”

  Joker straightened and stepped away from the car. A second later, something hard hit him at the base of his skull. The second blow knocked him to his knees. He braced himself against the brick wall. Cage fighting had conditioned him, but the element of surprise screwed with his bearings.

  Daisy spun away from the car as Joker pushed himself to his feet.

  “You lied to me, Charlie.” Darius swung a tire iron at his side.

  Joker rubbed at the back of his head. Son of a bitch clocked him with a goddamn tire iron. Fuck that.

  He reached behind his back for his gun, but Daisy shook her head. “No, don’t.”

  Darius peered at her. “You said we would be together.”

  “I never said that,” she said softly.

  “You said this money would be ours.” The slight whine in Darius’ voice told Joker he was desperate. Not good.

  Daisy kept her cool. “I said I needed your help but—”

  “You always need my help, like the other night,” Darius shouted and waved the tire iron at Joker. “Trying to set him up.”

  Ahh fuck, this stupid prick had fallen for her. Just what he needed, a two-hundred-pound block of cement with a tire iron and a broken heart. Fuckin’ wonderful.

  “You need to calm down.” Daisy moved closer but kept a safe distance.

  Darius peered at her closer. “Why did you dye your hair?”

  Daisy waved off the question. “Not important.”

  Joker surveyed the situation. Darius was slightly shorter than him, but his thick neck was barely contained in the white shirt and tie, and his huge hands handled the tire iron like it was a piece of plastic.

  “I was going to leave my wife for you.” Darius’ voice shook with the sound of a man out of control.

  “I never wanted you to do that. You know we were just friends,” she reasoned.

  Joker banked on Daisy’s calming voice to keep the situation under control for a few more minutes. The car took up most of the alley, leaving only a few feet on each side. Darius and Daisy faced each other, and as long as Darius focused on her, Joker could slowly move around the back of the car and come up behind him.

  Darius barked out a laugh. “Friends. You’re nobody’s friend.”

  Joker needed split-second timing with a guy who was unraveling right before their eyes. He timed his moves with the cadence of Daisy’s voice.

  “You’re wrong,” Daisy countered. “I was your friend.”

  “No, no, no.” Darius swung the tire iron, and Daisy swayed away from him. “You used me. You led me on.”

  When Joker reached the other side of the car, he hunched down and crept to the front, keeping low so he could pop up and take Darius from behind. He had no illusions about all the fucked-up ways this could go wrong. One swipe of that tire iron could smash in Daisy’s head.

  “I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  Daisy’s apology distracted Darius long enough for Joker to round the front of the car and swoop in behind him. The karate kick to his kidneys made Darius drop the tire iron and should’ve immobilized him, but instead he spun around in full fight-mode, flashing a six-inch blade.

  “Ahh, fuck this.” Joker reached around for his gun seconds before Darius lunged.

  Daisy watched in horror as Darius rushed Joker and slashed through his bicep.

  Joker pulled his gun, his eyes cold and deadly. “I will end you right here if you don’t put that fuckin’ knife down.” Joker leveled the gun, ignoring the blood seeping down his arm. She watched in awe as he transformed into a hardened criminal, and she had no doubts about him pulling the trigger.

  “This is all your fault.” Darius waved the knife at Daisy. “I didn’t want to hurt him, but you made me do it.”

  Darius was right. She had told him what he wanted to hear for her benefit, but he played around with a lot of the girls at the club, and she never expected him to take her seriously.

  “I said, drop the fuckin’ knife,” Joker growled.

  “You played me,” Darius whined.

  “And I’m so sorry about that.” She truly was sorry. “But please, put the knife down.”

  His eyes darted between her and Joker se
conds before he dropped the knife and raised his hands in surrender.

  “She deserves better than you,” Darius shouted against the brick walls of the alley.

  “You’re probably right,” Joker mumbled, then slammed his fist into the side of Darius’ head, sending him straight to the ground.

  “Was that necessary?” Daisy asked.

  Joker stuck the gun into his waistband. “Yeah—it was.”

  Then he pulled his t-shirt up and over his head. “Second fuckin’ time I’ve been slashed on the same arm,” he grumbled as he ripped the t-shirt up the center with his teeth. “What is it about nut jobs and knives?’

  “Be glad he didn’t have a gun.” She secured the floorboards into place, and they looked at each other over the back seat of the car.

  “Been shot and been slashed, babe, and I’ll take a bullet any day.”

  Daisy cocked her head. “You are an outlaw, aren’t you?”

  “We can discuss my rap sheet later.” Joker collected the knife and tire iron and threw them into the back seat of the Toyota.

  “Be careful with that garment bag; it’s got our clothes for meeting up with Esteban.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the clothes ’cause right now we should get the hell outta here.” He slammed the back door. “You drive.”

  Daisy slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the car came to life.

  “I guess he thought it would be you and him riding off into the sunset.” Joker tore another strip off the t-shirt, then began to wrap up his arm.

  She maneuvered the car out of the alley and onto one of the narrow side streets behind Ocean Avenue, where the traffic was light and the sidewalks were quiet. Somehow, she would’ve welcomed the craziness of South Beach. It would’ve distracted her from the guilt that slithered through her stomach, leaving an uneasy sense of remorse.

  “I know you could’ve taken him out at any time, but you didn’t.”

  “In a way, I felt sorry for the dumb fuck.”

  “It’s my fault.” She gripped the steering wheel. “I made him believe something that wasn’t true for my own advantage.”

  “All right, so you fucked up.”

  “It never used to bother me but—” She tightened her fists around the steering wheel.

  “We’ve both made a shitload of mistakes, but that don’t mean we can’t be better or try to do better in the future.”

  “I can’t help thinking that because I led Darius on, you could’ve gotten seriously hurt.” She glanced at his arm. “Bad enough, you’ve got a huge gash in your arm.”

  “Eh, it’s little more than a scratch.” Joker adjusted the t-shirt around his arm. “When we get to wherever we’re going, I’ll patch myself up. Believe me, I’ve had way worse shit happen to me.”

  “Right, but we’re supposed to be on the same side.” Daisy concentrated on her driving as she headed west over the MacArthur Causeway. The last thing they needed was to get pulled over with a bloody knife, unregistered guns, and two hundred thousand dollars stashed under the floorboards. She pictured herself in an orange jumpsuit, and it wasn’t a look she wanted to see anytime soon.

  “So you fucked up with Darius. Not the end of the world. This playing it straight is new to both of us, so maybe we gotta learn as we go along.” Joker flashed her that scary, sexy grin.

  Daisy played the words over in her mind as she focused on the windshield wipers that swept the sudden light mist off the windows. Maybe she could learn to trust. Put her faith in one person and believe that something good could come to her. No, that’d be much too hard, and definitely, much too dangerous.

  They drove in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. He’d made a makeshift tourniquet out of the t-shirt, and although Daisy knew it would have to be cleaned and dressed properly, it wasn’t a serious injury.

  She shifted a glance at him, and like every time before, her heart caught at his imperfect perfection. Joker was filled with contradictions: so rough and hard that getting whacked in the head and slashed in the arm didn’t even affect him, yet he was willing to give up the only life he’d ever known for his son, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

  Daisy tricked her mind into ignoring his bloody arm and, instead, imagined they were a young couple in love, heading for some glorious vacation. Not two criminals on the run, both with a price on their heads, and both in deep shit with the people they’d sworn their loyalty to. Risking everything for their freedom, they were preparing to pull off the biggest, most dangerous con involving people who only played to win.

  Thirty minutes later, they hit the South Dixie Highway. The main route leading to the Keys was empty on a Monday night, and she concentrated on the white line until his soft chuckle snapped her out of her thoughts.

  “Still can’t believe you never handled a gun before.”

  “It’s the truth.” Daisy glanced over at him. “And if guns are used, it’s part of the act, and they’re usually filled with blanks.”

  “Total opposite of my world.” Joker’s laugh was humorless. “We’re more about smashing everything in our path with guns blazing. And the bullets are real.”

  “If we take a little of both worlds, maybe we can make this work.”

  He rubbed at the back of his head. “I’m getting a fuckin’ headache from your friend and his tire iron, but I guess I should be glad he’s got lousy aim. A couple inches higher, and I’d be paralyzed.”

  That uncomfortable thought made her shiver and lower the air conditioning. First, she was hot, now she was cold. This having a conscience played havoc with her body temperature.

  “Getting whacked at the base of the neck or the throat can be deadly. Another fun fact I learned fighting dirty in the cage, but believe me, I would’ve had no trouble pulling that trigger if he didn’t back off.”

  She believed him. The way his whole demeanor changed sent a chill through her, reminding her that what they were about to pull off might not end well. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure, just want you to know that I got no problem keeping you safe.”

  “Good to know.”

  But also a little terrifying. Yes, she’d pulled many scams and swindled people out of money, or persuaded them to do things against their will, but it usually never resorted to physical violence. Joker’s revelation made her wonder how receptive he’d be to the plan she had bouncing around her brain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A lighted sign with a colorful carved fish welcomed them to Islamorada, Village of Islands. Joker hoped this was their destination because even with the seat jacked all the way back, his legs were cramped after the ninety-minute drive. Daisy pulled into the first convenience store, where they bought pre-made sandwiches from the day before, bags of chips, water, and two burner phones. Not too much of a selection after midnight. Joker snagged a large bottle of Advil for his pounding headache, and peroxide and gauze for his arm. He’d eyed the bottle of Jack on the shelf but didn’t think his head could stand it.

  The kid behind the counter stared. Couldn’t blame him. Joker’s shirtless, tatted body with an arm wrapped in a bloody t-shirt, along with Daisy’s hooker outfit had the kid's eyes popping out. They paid, and the kid sighed in relief.

  Back in the car, they passed bait shops, a few marinas, restaurants, hotels, and souvenir shops.

  “You do know where you’re going, right?” Joker shifted in the seat.

  “Yes.”

  “How much longer?” He rubbed the back of his head and wished he hadn’t. The lump, now the size of a golf ball, throbbed under his skull. He wanted to get out of the car and lay down.

  “You sound like a child.” She turned toward him. “Are we there yet?” She mimicked a little kid’s voice.

  “Not a fan of driving in a car.”

  “You mean letting a woman drive?” She challenged.

  “Rather be on my bike. Feel too closed in.”

  They passed another whole row of bait-an
d-tackle shops wedged in between marinas clogged with different sized boats.

  “I guess fishing is big down here.”

  “Islamorada is known for sport fishing, turtle sightings, and drug smuggling. Probably one-quarter of all the boats in those marinas have been used to transport drugs.”

  “Huh, that’s impressive. In the North, most of our imports come from Canada.” He smiled. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

  “Right, how would an outlaw biker know about that?”

  “Ex-outlaw biker. I fulfilled my deal with the MC, even though Digger thinks I’m dead. Either way, I’m still technically out of the club.”

  She made a few more twists and turns, and the generic, touristy buildings disappeared. A few more turns, and it looked like they were dumped into the heart of the Everglades. The street lights and colorful billboards vanished, and any minute he expected to see an alligator waddle across the road.

  “Sure you know where you’re goin’?” he asked again.

  Daisy nodded while she kept her gaze fixed on the dark, narrow roadway. “I’ve used this place before when I’ve met up with Esteban. It’s inconspicuous and out of the way.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  The dark road had trees with moss dangling from the branches. Fuckin’ weird looking with the shadows from the car lights. On the other side, he saw a swamp of underbrush and stagnant water. Joker didn’t wanna think about what slithered around in that slimy muck. This was probably the place they found all those thirty-foot boas.

  Finally, Daisy pulled off the road. His relief was short-lived when he saw the crumbling row of motel rooms and the flashing neon sign announcing the Pink Flamingo. With the P and the F blown out, the ink lamingo looked like it had definitely seen better days. Or maybe not.

  She drove over the weed-ridden, cracked blacktop to another broken neon sign that advertised the office.

  “This is it?”

  Her weak smile confirmed it. “I’ll be right back.”

  A few minutes later, she returned with an old-school motel key with a plastic disk attached to it, advertising the name of the motel on one side and the room number on the other.