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

by Barbara Nolan

  Daisy pulled into the slot in front of room five, handed Joker the key, then got out and opened the back door. She shifted the floorboards and stuffed the money into her Gucci bag.

  He jiggled the key a few times and contemplated booting the splintered wooden door when it finally opened. A wave of musty mildew and stale cigarettes hit him in the face. Definitely not his five-star room in Miami. He flipped the light on and half expected to see a herd of cockroaches running for cover, but thankfully it seemed like he and Daisy were alone.

  Joker hefted his duffel bag onto the sagging, full-size bed, then bent down, moved the bedspread, and glanced under the bed.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Just making sure nothing is slithering under there.”

  She laughed out loud, but he didn’t care. Joker hated snakes—wouldn’t even watch those jungle shows on the television. He stood up and the room tilted. Gripping the headboard, he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the spinning. The back of his head as well as his bicep had developed a heartbeat, and he wished for some of the heavy-duty pharmaceuticals that floated around the clubhouse.

  “Are you all right?”

  He nodded as the dizziness subsided.

  “Maybe you have a concussion.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” Daisy moved closer, examining the blood-stained t-shirt wrapped around his bicep.

  Joker turned away from her and unzipped his duffel. He rummaged through it until he came up with his surgi-kit, then grabbed the peroxide and gauze out of the plastic shopping bag.

  “Do you want me to help you with that?” She reached out to him.

  He shrugged away from her. “Nah, I got it.”

  “It’ll be hard to do by yourself, let me—”

  “I said, I got this.” He pivoted away from her and headed to the bathroom. Joker wasn’t used to anybody worrying about him. He … liked it, and it bugged him that he did. For him, getting banged up was just another day in the life. And that bothered him too.

  Joker slammed the bathroom door, but that didn’t straighten out his confused emotions. He dumped everything into the chipped sink, unwrapped the gauze and broke the seal on the peroxide, then wet one of the thin towels he found on the rack behind him. He cleaned off the dried blood and doused the cut with peroxide.

  “Shit!” He hissed into the mirror over the sink, then stared at his image. Same rough, scarred face that had been staring back at him for years. Even the faded mirror didn’t soften his dark, shady features and ragged hair. No one would ever call him a pretty boy. What the hell did a woman like Daisy even see in him? Fuck if he knew.

  He tore his gaze away from the chilling image in front of him and focused on his arm. He’d done this enough times to know that the slash was a surface cut. A few butterfly strips, and he was good to go. No big deal, right? What kind of fucked-up world did he live in when being slashed with a knife and whacked on the back of the head with a tire iron didn’t faze him.

  After wrestling with the tamper-proof cap on the Advil, Joker shook out four tablets and gulped them down with water from the faucet. He eyed the grimy shower in the corner, but splashed water on his face from the sink instead, purposely averting his eyes from the mirror.

  When he emerged from the bathroom, Daisy had her back to him, smoothing out the faded polyester bed cover and plumping the pillows. “I don’t think anything can help this room.”

  He flipped a few of the knobs on the ancient TV that balanced on a metal stand. A grainy, snowy picture appeared, then it started to spin. He banged it on the side a few times but gave up and shut it off.

  “I know it’s a freakin’ dump, but it’s only for a few days.”

  “How come you never curse?” Most of the women at the clubhouse had a worse mouth than him.

  Daisy uncapped one of the water bottles they’d bought at the convenience store. “One of my language professors once said, ‘Cursing is a lazy way of speaking.’”

  “Shit, I must be the fuckin’ laziest person on this goddamn earth.” He grinned, enjoying the way she rolled her eyes.

  “Your smile is frightening.”

  “I even scared myself looking in that bathroom mirror before.”

  “I’m sure everything about that bathroom is scary, but staying here keeps us way under the radar.”

  She headed for the bathroom and retrieved a towel, then filled it with ice from the bucket on the bureau.

  “Where’d you get the ice?”

  “While you were performing surgery in there, I found an ice machine.” She wrapped up the towel and handed it to him. “Unlimited ice, consider this the deluxe room.”

  “Thanks.” The flimsy mattress dipped as he eased his body against the rickety headboard.

  “I didn’t mean to push you before.” Daisy uncapped the other water bottle. “It’s just that you took care of me, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

  “I’m not used to anybody—”

  “Doing anything for you?” She handed him the water. “Or caring about you?”

  “Something like that.” Joker adjusted the ice pack, then pointed to the dysfunctional air-conditioner as it rattled against the window frame. “We’d be better shutting the damn thing off. It makes the room feel wet.”

  “Sounds like you got a little too used to that five-star hotel in Miami.”

  “Just pissed off that I let that guy, Darius, get so close to me.” He motioned to his arm. “But I’ve stayed in worse places.”

  “That’s not possible.” She sipped from the water bottle.

  “My cell in Rikers.”

  Daisy bit at her bottom lip but stayed quiet.

  “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I was in for?”

  “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “Possession of an illegal weapon.” He toed off his boots, and they hit the floor with a thud.

  “How long were you in?” She opened her overnight bag and pulled out cotton pajama shorts and a t-shirt.

  “Fourteen months.”

  “Long time for carrying a weapon.” When she sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced her combat boots, his dick twitched. Banged up head, slashed arm, and the damn thing came to life at the sight of her taking off her boots. Un-fuckin-believable.

  “Gun had some bodies on it, but they couldn’t prove I was the shooter.”

  “Were you?” She pulled off the boots, then stretched her legs out so he could see her painted pink toenails. There wasn’t a part of this woman’s body that didn’t turn him into a pile of mush. Embarrassing.

  “Not according to the club’s high-priced lawyer and the State of New York.”

  She gave Joker a long look, but he knew that some stories should be kept to himself.

  “Got out early for good behavior.”

  Her eyes widened, and he laughed.

  “I know, hard to believe, but I was a model prisoner.” He shrugged. “Not a problem when you’re locked up with crazies and psychopaths. Compared to some of them, I was like a Disney character.”

  Her gaze traveled over his bare chest. “I’m sure you had no problem holding your own.”

  “Prison is its own little community. I had support from other clubs on the inside, and them knowing I was a Raider kept the bullshit down.” He adjusted the pillows behind his back. “And just so you know, I got no problem pulling the trigger if it keeps us safe.”

  Daisy had no doubts about Joker keeping them safe or pulling the trigger. His glazed, cold-dead stare in the alley spoke volumes about his abilities. He morphed from a hot, sexy biker to a dangerous thug in seconds, and she almost felt sorry for Darius. Almost.

  “You said you’ve been here before. Alone?”

  “No, I usually came with one of Rico’s muscle.” She wiggled her toes, happy to be free of the boots, and she couldn’t help the smirk when he adjusted his jeans.

  “The ones from the other day by the pool?” His lips thinned, and the intimidating
biker returned.

  “Rico liked to have eyes on everyone.”

  Joker silently stared at her, and she could see his brain working overtime. Considering his injuries were mainly her fault, Daisy took pity on him and answered his unasked question.

  “No. I never slept with either of them. They had their room, and I had mine.”

  “Hey, it’s not my business what you did.” He tried his best to sound all cool and detached, but he didn’t fool her.

  “Right.” If she wanted to be mean, she could torture him with a little striptease.

  “Can’t wait to see those on you.” He pointed at her pj shorts and t-shirt. “Maybe do a little strip for me?”

  Creepy, had he read her mind?

  “I don’t want to torture you.”

  “Too fuckin’ late for that.” Joker pushed at the bulge in his jeans again. “This sucker has a mind of his own.”

  Daisy stood in front of the mirror that hung over the bureau and removed the blonde wig, then the pins, and her hair flowed down her back.

  “Shit, this is like some 3-D porn show.” Joker’s eyes burned into her reflection, his body tense on the faded bedspread.

  “I’m going to use the bathroom.” She grabbed her bag of toiletries and her pj’s, and escaped the room like a virginal teenager. Daisy hadn’t been virginal even when she was a teenager, so this reaction mystified her.

  She braced her hands on the chipped porcelain sink and drew in a deep breath, surprised by her reaction, although her mini anxiety attack could also be the result of their upcoming job.

  Daisy didn’t doubt they could pull it off because she’d planned it out perfectly. A plan she briefly outlined to Joker in the car. A scheme so precise, so exact that there was no room for error. A scam within a scam, and if keeping part of it from Joker meant success, then so be it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Daisy finished in the bathroom, changed her clothes, and took one last look at her reflection. The person that stared back at her had secrets, and Joker had learned most of them, but it was hard to expose herself, and sadly, a little part of her brain still didn’t trust him. Sure, that made her a horrible person, but trusting someone petrified her. Daisy wasn’t sure she’d ever trusted anyone in her life, and if she had, she’d most surely been let down. It was easier to not trust Joker and save herself the disappointment.

  When she entered the room, he smiled. Naked from the waist up, Joker’s glorious body stretched across most of the bed as his head rested against the ice-filled towel.

  “Didn’t see you as the type to wear rainbows on your t-shirts.”

  “I always keep them packed in my getaway bag.”

  “Getaway bag, I like it.”

  Both their gazes tracked the Gucci full of money on the floor.

  “Bring it over here.” Joker motioned to the floor beside the bed. He’d already laid his gun on the bedside table, and although she hated guns, somehow seeing the two together calmed her.

  She shivered. “You’re right about that air-conditioner.”

  “Piece of shit, but if we turn it off, we’ll sweat to death.” He reached out to her. “You want me to get up so you can pull down the covers?”

  “No, you really don’t want to see those sheets. I usually sleep on top.”

  He shifted on the bed and made room for her. “Get in here next to me, you’re shivering.”

  She slid in next to his solid body. When the bed frame rattled, she laughed and pulled her knees to her chest. Joker draped his muscled arm around Daisy and pulled her into his side, the heat from his bare chest instantly warmed her.

  Other than the drone of the malfunctioning air-conditioner, there were no other distractions. No TV, no music, and definitely no cars on this deserted road at this time of night. He laid his head against the ice pack again, and she nestled into his shoulder, enjoying his taut skin under her cheek.

  “This is nice.” Her voice seemed far away, distant.

  “First time we’ve been in bed and not—”

  “I like it.”

  “Me too.”

  “You’re so different than what I ever expected.” Daisy held his hand in hers. “Even though your hands are huge, you have the lightest touch. You would’ve made a great car thief or pickpocket.”

  “Just what I need, more crimes to add to my rap sheet.” He tugged at the high ponytail she’d wrapped in a scrunchie. “I like your rainbow t-shirt better than all that designer shit. No makeup, hair all messy. Sexy as fuck.”

  “Really?”

  “Shit yeah, only problem is between my head and my arm I don’t think I can take another part of my body throbbing.”

  He pulled her legs over his, and she snuggled in deeper. The sagging, lumpy mattress, and the crummy room disappeared. She closed her eyes and reveled in the security of Joker’s strong arms. For the first time in her life, the protective layers fell away. It left her exposed, a complete contradiction of everything she’d known in the past. He held her legs across his body, and she relaxed. The very man she’d wanted to take down and destroy became her savior, letting her experience emotions she never even knew existed. Two people so damaged, so beyond redemption, that they were intrinsically drawn together.

  Daisy tilted her head to find him staring down at her, and she froze. His eyes were filled with a look so caring and tender that it made her heart hurt, an actual pain in her chest, and an ache for something she’d never experienced and morbidly feared.

  Life taught her never to wish for anything because you would be disappointed, and yet, Joker’s eyes held so much promise. Did she dare give in to the raw, naked passion that threatened her better judgment, and cast off every defense and put her heart in jeopardy?

  He shifted and nuzzled his face into her hair before placing a gentle kiss against her forehead. He stroked her thigh and over the edge of her hip, then settled in the hollow where her leg met her body.

  “I love just holding you.” Joker kissed the top of her head.

  The word love sent a chill down her spine. There was no love in her world or his. What had made him use that word? A word so power-charged, so potent that it sent countries to war and made people steal and lie and commit murder. A word that had no meaning in any context or in any part of her life, and here, this hard, edgy biker spit it out as if it was nothing—as if he said it all the time.

  He stroked her thigh. “Relax.”

  He sensed even the slightest shift in her emotions. Freakin’ mind boggling and wonderful at the same time. The peaceful, mindless sensation made her eyes feel heavy, and all the tensions of the night began to dissipate. There was no blame for leading Darius on, no guilt for setting up Joker, no escaping in the dark—just the two of them, here and now, melded to each other. Daisy peeked up at him and saw his eyes were closed so she joined him. She slid down a bit and rested her head on his chest. His steady heartbeat thumped in her ear, and the rhythm soothed and lulled her off to sleep as she drifted away on a perfect cloud.

  Joker startled awake. Light shown on the other side of the thin drapes. Morning. His mouth felt like cotton, and his good arm was numb where Daisy had fallen asleep. He wiggled his fingers, and when she shifted, he slowly released his arm to let the blood painfully tingle through his veins. He reached for his phone, and Daisy’s eyelids fluttered then squeezed shut, like she wasn’t ready to see another day.

  The good news was his head stopped throbbing, and the pain in his arm downgraded to a dull ache. But the bad news? He must’ve been in such a deep sleep that he hadn’t moved, and now his neck, back, and legs were cramped and stiff. What Joker needed was a nice, hot shower, but what he’d probably get was a trickle of lukewarm water dripping down the moldy tiles. Better than nothing, and right now he couldn’t afford to be picky.

  He tried to ease himself away from Daisy without disturbing her, but a pair of sleepy arms reached out and clutched him, needing him next to her. He hugged her, then gently laid her against the bed and slipped
off the mattress. The ancient bed frame groaned and creaked as he shifted. Good thing they hadn’t had sex last night. They probably would’ve broken the damn thing.

  Joker raised his hands over his head and stretched out his spine, and then separated the drapes and squinted. The blazing sun attacked his pupils, and he blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden light. Daytime didn’t improve the concrete parking lot, overgrown with weeds and patches of moss, or the surrounding area around the shitty motel. The Pink Flamingo was definitely not listed in the travel brochures, and yet it was the first time in a long while that Joker felt like he could breathe.

  He glanced down at Daisy, lying on her side with both hands cupped under her face, her sleep shorts high enough to see the curve of her slender thigh. Amazing how in only a matter of hours everything he thought he knew about her changed. The deceit and the lies that bound them had turned into something far more dangerous. Concern, caring, and all the emotions he couldn’t identify swirled around him. In a day or two, it wouldn’t matter. Joker had to get back to his son, and she had to … do things that didn’t involve him. He moved away from the bed and focused on taking a shower.

  In the bathroom, he opened the ripped plastic shower curtain, turned both faucets on full blast, and was rewarded with a weak stream of water from the calcified shower head. He stripped off his jeans and stepped in, careful to keep his arm away from the spray.

  Turning his back to the warmish water, he bumped his elbows and knees in the cramped space. He’d forgotten to bring in shampoo, and since this wasn’t the kind of place that supplied it, he wet his hair as best he could, massaging the bump on the back of his head. When the water bordered on chilled, he turned off the faucets and got out, then dried himself off with the skimpy towel and wrapped it around his waist. It barely covered Joker, exposing most of his thigh. He looked like a reject from a Roman toga party.

  “Like the towel.” Daisy teased, sitting up in bed.