She was almost where I needed her.
“Just like that,” I said, smiling wide and enjoying the show, then handing her another double shot.
“Are you're try'n to get me drunk?” she laughed, snatching the shot glass out of my hand and spilling half the tequila on the bed. With wobbly hands she tried to drink but ended up mashing the glass into her cheeks, then slowly rolling it to her lips.
At this point I was just buzzed, but Gingger was very much done. Any more tequila and she'd hurl all over the place.
She slumped down on the bed, letting the shot glass roll off her fingers and onto the carpeted floor. I rolled her onto her stomach so if she threw up she wouldn't choke to death, and left.
“I'm going to take a piss, then I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, Gingger,” I announced loudly with the door to the hallway open. I wanted anyone who might be listening to know who I was with and what I had planned to do. Despite being almost completely passed out Gingger murmured something unintelligible in response. I didn't bother answering here, instead I closed the door and enacted the second phase of my plan.
I was going to find Sarah and make sure she was alright.
To do that I needed an alibi. Gingger was a mess so as long as I left her some cash when I got back tomorrow morning she'd assume we fucked and would tell Patrick as much.
I doubled back for Sarah's room first. None of the doors were numbered, but I'd counted them when I left last time in case I ever came back. Fortunately there was no one in the hallway. Everyone that had made it upstairs was already in the rooms. Most of the doors I passed had either music or just sex sounds – moans, slaps, and the usual over the top porn star talk.
I pushed open Sarah's door and found it dark and empty. I knew I couldn't stay long so I just did a quick inspection of her room, looking for any clues to where she was or general signs of struggle. It was lived in, and mostly empty. On my way out I happened to look down and caught a few spots of brownish stains on the floor. The blood was dried and at least several days old.
Was this her blood?
I had to find her.
I dipped out, deciding to check all the quiet rooms on that floor before heading downstairs to search some more. Working my way down the hall, most of the doors were unlocked and empty. Finally I found one that was quiet and locked. Pressing my ear to the wood I heard a light scuffling inside. She probably wouldn't be able to make much noise so that had to be her!
I thought about kicking the door in, but at the last second, seeing what kind of knob it had I decided against it. Fishing around in my pocket I pulled out a paperclip. This place was built for privacy not security. The knobs they used were standard bedroom and bathroom models. I had the lock popped in ten seconds.
Pushing open the door, I braced myself for whatever I might find. Who knew what kind of trouble she'd be in.
What I saw wasn't Sarah at all. It was Yoga. He was completely naked and was bent over at the waist with his hands against one of the walls. That same clean cut dude who Patrick dropped off at the motel was drilling him from behind. It'd been a while since I'd seen Yoga naked. He was in such ridiculously good shape that it made me want to start doing crunches again. I needed to get my cardio up.
“Wreck? What the fuck?” Yoga said, catching me momentarily lost in thought.
“Shit, sorry, bro! Just looking for the bathroom.” I shook my head and started closing the door then paused. “Huh. I never took you for a bottom.”
“Power-bottom,” he replied immediately.
“Yeah, he's fucking the shit out of me right now,” the whore said, sounding a little stoned and generally along for the ride. The haze of smoke was mostly gone but there were some lingering whiffs of it here and there.
“Shut the fuck up, Tony. I didn't say you could talk.” Yoga snapped, then turned back to me. “You mind?”
I put up my hands and ducked back out into the hall, closing the door behind me.
Well that was a bust. I'd gotten lucky that it was one of MC I walked in on, if it was anyone else there might've been more repercussions. I'd be more careful with the rest of the doors.
The last locked door I came across was at the very end of the hallway. Dark and quiet, but this time with a keyboard clacking away. None of the rooms had much more than a bed. This had to be some kind of office. Was someone working there? This late at night?
It could only be either Sarah or Patrick. The last time I'd seen him, Patrick was downstairs. There was nothing keeping him down there while I was in Gingger's room though.
Fuck it. I'd already come this far. I'd deal with the consequences.
This door had an actual key lock on the outside, so it took an extra few seconds for me to get through it. This definitely wasn't just another bedroom. I pushed the door open carefully and saw someone sitting at a computer desk. It was dark, but the monitor's light showed the person working was small, at least much smaller than Patrick. That was a relief. He and I were already on rocky ground. The last thing I needed was him finding out I was sneaking around and having him take it out on the rest of the club.
Regardless how much I didn't like the guy the MC needed the money from this job or the truck was never getting fixed. We were in a tough spot and I had to play ball this time or we were fucked.
“Hello?” I asked in a low voice once I was inside. The person in front of me perked up, but didn't turn around. The purple scarf gave her away. “Sarah, is that you?”
Her head lulled in disappointment, but she still made no move to look at me. I walked up beside her to make sure it was really her, but again she turned away. What was going on with her?
Finally she clicked open a notepad on her computer and started to type.
“You shouldn't be here,” she typed.
“I needed to make sure you were alright,” I replied. My eyes drifted to the other tabs she had open in the background – Maryland criminal law, accounting excel spreadsheets, tutorial videos, and bank accounts.
Whatever she was up to it needed some serious research. Looks like she was much more than just Patrick's secretary. Was she his partner?
If that was the case then why'd she whore? It seemed like an incredible misuse of her talents and education. I was beginning to put the pieces together, but there was still so much I didn't know.
I hated being left in the dark.
“I'm fine. Go away,” she typed.
“I haven't seen you in a week.”
“I'm not for sale anymore.” She paused as if seeing herself type it had startled her. After a brief hesitation of what to type she continued. “Everything is fine.”
“I don't believe you,” I replied coldly. “Look me in the eyes if you mean that.”
I grabbed her chin and turned her head slightly before she shook free and let her hair cover her face. In the harsh monitor light I caught a glimpse at some darkened areas on her face.
“Did he hit you?” I couldn't keep the growl out of my voice. The thought of Patrick beating on someone as small, beautiful, and brilliant as Sarah filled me with rage.
“Leave now! I don't want you here!” she typed furiously fast.
“Like hell,” I replied, trying and failing to keep my voice in check. “I'll be damned if I let—”
Sarah cut me off by abruptly standing and darting to the door. She picked up a thick text book on the way and began slamming it against the hallway wall as hard as she could. The thuds were loud and rapid.
I chased after and caught the book mid swing.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Someone is going to hear that and tell...” It dawned on me that that was what she wanted.
She pointed a finger into my chest, then down the hall. Leave, she warned.
“Why? I just want to help you?” I asked in hushed tones, grabbing her shoulders. Why couldn't she understand that?
In a flurry of hand movement Sarah signed something at me but I didn't understand, then she went back to doing the only thing
she could to make me leave her alone. She started stomping on the ground and banging the walls with her balled up palms.
“OK, fine. Stop. Fuck. I'll go!” I freed her shoulders, threw my hands up in defeat and backed away. It was only then that I saw the color of the bruise over her cheek and eye. In a twisted coincidence it was almost the same shade of purple as her scarf.
She slipped back into the office, closed and locked the door.
I could take a hint.
It didn't happen often, but sometimes I heard the word no. Some girls just weren't interested. I get it. Fucking whatever, I'd always move onto the next girl and fuck her instead. Didn't bother me, because I never went home lonely at the end of the night.
With that display Sarah made it perfectly clear that she wasn't interested in me.
8
Jezebel
“You told him you weren't for sale anymore?” Patrick replied after I signed to him exactly what had happened upstairs with me and Wreck. Patrick had learned how to read sign language when he found out I'd been learning it as well. He didn't want me to be able to speak in a fashion without him knowing what I was saying and to whom. He looked at me with hard eyes that said in no uncertain terms that he was the one who decided whether I was for sale or not.
I nodded, then lowered my gaze.
“I'll allow that for now.” He'd dropped a week's worth of groceries on one of the several broken washing machines. We didn't have a kitchen in the building so each week's food haul was microwavable or could be heated up on a hotplate. Patrick generally bought the same things for me each week- those styrofoam cups of noodles, mac and cheese, eggs I could boil and a bushel of apples. Day in and day out for years it was the same thing over and over again.
I missed my mother's cooking.
“You did good telling me all this.” Patrick laid a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed. He used just enough pressure to ensure it was uncomfortable for me. I had to suppress the urge to recoil. His touch was like a thousand spiders crawling across my soul.
“Is there anything else you need from me?” I asked with my hands. It was all I could think of for a reason to pull away from him.
“Yes. After we wrap up the Five-Five-Seven gang tonight, we'll be moving on the geriatrics running the Italian mob. Billy's grandfather, Don Accardo turns seventy eight tomorrow night. I want you to get the schematics on his mansion where the party will be held. You have three hours. Email it to me.”
I hesitated but nodded before he lost his patience. I'd never had to do research on a family so connected before. Some of their official documents might not even exist considering the mob connections. I'd always come through before.
Fear was a terribly efficient motivator.
“One more thing.” Patrick added like with the casualness of someone ordering at a fast food window. “You're coming with us tomorrow so overnight yourself a nice cocktail dress online. Two-hundred dollar limit.”
I stood agape. Going with them?! I'd never gone on one of their missions before. What use could I possibly be in the field?
“What do you want me to do there?” I asked.
“What you're told,” he said sharply, then turned to walk out.
My eyes burned holes in his back as he left. I hated that man more than I ever thought a person could hate another person.
Grabbing the bags of groceries, I headed back upstairs. One, two, three, four. I counted the hidden cameras as I passed them in the hall and unlocked the door to the office. Number five was at the far end of the office past the computer aimed at the door, and camera six was mounted above the door frame pointed at me and the computer watching me while I worked.
Patrick had never told any of us girls about the cameras, and I was pretty sure I was the only one who'd noticed them. It took years of incredibly passive inspection to find those six without letting Patrick know that I found them. If he knew that I'd discovered them he'd have either punished me or moved them and neither of those things had happened.
Dropping the grocery bags on top of a filing cabinet, I crumpled into the chair. It had been such a long, lonely week. All I could think of was Wreck, the only man who'd shown me any kindness in the years I'd been imprisoned here, and how I drove him off...
My heart sank into my stomach and a mild nausea came on.
I wished I could explain myself! I wished I could tell him that no matter how stealthy Wreck thought he was sneaking around picking locks like that, that we were being watched. If I didn't force him to leave Patrick would've known and he would've been furious with me. There was nothing I could do, and now I've driven away the only person that might've been able to help me.
The deadline loomed in the back of my mind and I knew I didn't have time to wallow.
Three hours to do the impossible. This was the mob we were talking about... I sincerely doubted their info was going to be easy to find. That bastard’s demands became more and more unreasonable as time went on!
I looked up public records and building ordinances, but none of the government sites had anything on Don Accardo's mansion. After some more digging and still coming up empty I realized that the house schematics weren't just missing they might never have been submitted in the first place. Their corruption went really deep in the local government so I wasn't too surprised what bribes could buy. I changed up my tactics and started looking into the long dead architect that designed the place in the first place. After some online sleuthing I found a grandson of the architect and it just so happened that he was continuing in his grandfather's career path. I emailed him as a wealthy, prospective client asking him if he had any plans done in a very specific style-something in the vein of an eighty-year old Italian mansion. Within a half hour he responded.
Something like this? The email header said. I opened the attachment and found exactly what I was looking for.
Don Accardo's mansion.
Just in time too because all my searches came up negative!
After careful studying of the building layout and with the looming deadline buzzing in my head I emailed Patrick. I included the attachment and offered my thoughts on the best way to enter the house and navigate to the main ballroom where the party was likely to be held. I knew I wouldn't be getting any kind of reply, but I relaxed a little knowing my job was complete.
Finding the unfindable. I'd never get any praise for my hard work, only less abuse. Mom would've been proud of my ingenuity. Mom... I missed my family. Home was less than two miles away, I could walk there in an hour! I knew the way, but it might as well be on a different planet for all the difference it made.
My prison didn't have bars. The doors weren't locked here, I could run away anytime I wanted. That was the worst part of it all. I chose to be here. I could just walk away, but if I did... I knew exactly what Patrick would do to my family and he would make it look like an accident.
I forced away the tears of the home I couldn't have and the pushed down the useless longing for a biker who saw me for who I really was deep down inside. Instead I focused on the one thing that gave me hope and kept me sane.
One of the girls I liked smuggled in a memory stick for me which I kept in a hidden pouch I'd sewn into my scarf. I didn’t have any real friends here but there were a few girls who weren’t afraid to interact with me. Some had even shown me some kindness. Monica was one of those girls.
Careful to hide what I was doing from the cameras in the room I plugged the stick into the computer and added the recent documents of Patrick's criminal dealings to it. I couldn't ever email it to the Feds on his computer because of how closely he monitors the activity so I saved it all until I had enough to put him away forever and then I'd find a way to use another computer to upload everything.
Secretly compiling evidence against Patrick was the only joy I had left in life, that and fantasizing about seeing his face when the feds arrested him. Now all I had to do was survive long enough to use it.
Come hell or high water, I would save my fam
ily from that monster, no matter what.
9
Wreck
Once midnight struck my brothers and I had slipped into the back of the mafia estate compound. Now we were waiting in the wings for the signal to rush in.
The plan for all its nuances was pretty simple when you got right down to it. Sarah and several of the other whores were shuttled into Don Accardo’s mansion for some post party entertainment. Apparently this didn’t raise any red flags. It turned out that the Italian mafia even had an account with Patrick. He boasted to us that the prostitution was basically tax deductible because he billed them as a delivery service. Having some idea how much Sarah was involved on the back end of all his business dealings made me wonder whose brilliant idea that really was.
“Lucky bastards,” Buck grumbled behind his binoculars as he looked into the windows of the mansion at the raucous birthday party. Laughing, naked girls were being chased around, and booze and drugs lined every table.
Say what will about the Maryland mob, but they sure knew how to fucking get down.
That sure as hell made our job tonight a whole lot easier.
“Keep that sad panda dick in your pants, little brother,” Yoga chimed up as he put away his binoculars and pulled both of his pistols from his lower back holsters.
He didn’t have a bike yet, so he had to ride bitch on his brother’s bike. They gave each other shit about it like only biological brothers could, but neither of them really minded the arrangement. It was just good having him back on runs with us again. It didn’t feel right to any of us without the full crew together.
“Eat a dick, Yoga. You’re just jealous that—” Buck replied in the latest round of their endless back and forth jabs at one another but was quickly cut off.
“Eyes up. We’ve got movement,” Dunk snapped, pointing to a hidden door opening in the yard. It was the house’s original wine cellar that had apparently become a derelict storage room. Over the many decades it was abandoned and ultimately forgotten about.
Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance Page 6
