I lowered my boot onto the foot peg. “No sudden movements. Got it.”
He relaxed a little. “You always ride that fast?”
“How fast was I going?”
“Clocked you at one-oh-three. That’s ‘go to jail’ speeding, not ‘traffic ticket’ speeding.”
“Sounds about right,” I said. “Hard to tell, I ain’t got a speedo on this little fucker.”
“Is there a good reason you were going that fast?”
I spit out a laugh. “Is there such a thing? A good reason?”
He widened his stance. “None that I can think of, but I’m always up for a good story.”
I detested cops. Talking to them, looking at them, listening to them, or receiving a ticket from one of them was a reminder of their existence. At that moment, I was guilty of all four. Considering that every decision I’d made throughout the day had produced shit results. I decided to go against the grain of normal.
“Met this gal at a little bar north of town,” I said. “She’s got a smart mouth, and a little pussy that fits my cock like a glove. Light brown hair with blonde streaks in it that rolls over her shoulders like a shiny little waterfall. Her eyes are cool as fuck. They’re kinda green and kinda brown.” I glanced to my left. “Ever seen a gal with true hazel eyes?”
“My wife’s got hazel eyes.”
I didn’t give a fuck about his wife. I wanted to see Gray. “Well, hot damn,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “Isn’t that something?”
“Where’s this story going?”
“Well, I turned forty nearly a year ago, and I’ve never met a woman that could keep my attention longer than it took her to suck my cock. Then, I met this gal. Ever met a guy that has a walk that makes you think twice about fucking with him, based on nothing but how he walks?”
He gave me a blank stare.
“She’s got a walk like that,” I said. “And she’s a chick? Craziest damned thing I’ve ever seen. Hell, she’s got me so awestruck that I hate the thought of leaving her bar. I want to stay in there all night and talk to her, and as hard as it may be for you to believe right now, I’m not a talker. We like the same music, same foods, and she’s just got this way about her that makes me want to sit and stare at her. It’s like I want to figure her out, but there’s nothing to figure out. She puts it all out there for everyone to see.”
“If we’re making this very long story short,” the officer said. “You’re running to see her?”
“That’s where this story gets sticky,” I said. “I can’t go see her. That’s the problem. She’s missing. She didn’t show up to work, and no one’s seen or heard from her.”
“Has she been reported missing?”
“That’s kind of the point of this conversation,” I said. “Took me a minute to get to it, but that’s the punch line. She’s missing. I’m pissed. I’m reporting it to you, right now. Lost my phone and had to go get a new one. Was hoping she’d called, but she hasn’t. I was headed to my office to see if I can find anything out from the fellas I run with. Considering this gal’s got that tight pussy and those eyes I told you about, I’m a little overeager to get there. I damned sure wouldn’t be speeding in excess of a hundred if she wasn’t a dime piece.”
He smirked. “Your office?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You’ve got an office?”
“Across the street from Tanya’s Taqueria, off the old highway. Price Partners, LLC. It’s a sole proprietorship, but I put the ‘partners’ in there because a few of the fellas help me with shit.” I smirked. “Kind of a play on words. Get it?”
“Do you have a copy of your license, insurance card, and your CCW?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” I said. “You gonna shoot me if I reach for them?”
“As long as you don’t reach for that boot, everything will be just fine.”
“I’d like to trust you, but I don’t trust cops,” I said. “No offense, but I’ve seen first-hand how shit can go south in an instant.”
“YouTube videos only show one side of the story.”
“In case you missed it, I said I know first-hand,” I said. “I watched the cops murder my parents when I was eight. Ask around. I’m sure you can hear a few different versions of what happened down at the station. I’m the only one that knows the truth.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re serious?”
“You think I’d sit here and lie about something like that?”
“You’d be surprised at what people will do to get out being thrown in jail.”
“Jail doesn’t scare me,” I said. “I’m trying to keep from being shot.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “More comfortable now?”
It was a pretty solid gesture in the right direction. At least his hand was away from his gun. “A little.” I reached for my wallet, slowly. I retrieved the three documents and handed them to him. “Here you go.”
Information in hand, he returned to his car. I watched his reflection in my mirror as he spent an inordinate amount of time on the radio. I prepared for the cavalry to arrive, have my bike impounded, and to be hauled to jail for speeding.
He got out of the car and returned to my side. He extended his hand. “Here you go. Everything checks out.”
“Where’s the reinforcements?” I asked. “Or, are you going to take me in on your own?”
“Taking you to jail requires getting a flatbed to haul your motorcycle to impound. Tow services require paperwork, and paperwork takes time. You’d have to be processed, and processing takes time. I haven’t eaten lunch yet and if I arrest you, I won’t eat for another three hours.” He peeled off his sunglasses and gave me a serious look. “Slow down a little. Especially if you’re not going to wear a helmet.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “I’m free to go?”
“Not all cops are bad cops,” he said.
I chuckled. “Just because a dog doesn’t bite you the first time you pet it doesn’t it mean it won’t bite you the next.”
“Some dogs only bite when they’ve got no other option.”
I glanced at his name tag.
C.L. Perry.
“Have a nice afternoon, Officer Perry.”
“Were you serious about that girl?” he asked.
“She’s got a smart mouth, shiny hair, hazel eyes that’ll drive you crazy, and a pussy so tight she made me come in sixty seconds.” I gave him a sharp nod. “All true.”
He didn’t seem amused. “Is she missing?”
“She is.”
“Come down to the station and fill out a missing person’s report,” he said. “We’ll see what we can do.”
“No offence,” I said. “But I’d rather handle it myself. I wasn’t lying about hating cops.”
“Understood,” he said. “Good luck. I’m here if you need me.”
I’d never needed a cop in my life. I doubted that would ever change. I gave him a nod of appreciation for saving me a trip to jail on a day that I felt I really needed to be elsewhere.
I kept my ride to the clubhouse at ten over the marked speed. Brisco, Carp, and Panzer were all parked beneath the awning. I situated my motorcycle beside theirs and meandered to the donut shop.
Clutching two-dozen mixed treats, I sauntered into my crowded office. Panzer, Carp, and Brisco were discussing theories regarding the benefit of charcoal barbeque grills versus propane.
“Make yourselves at home,” I said in a snide tone. I tossed the box of donuts on my desk. “Can a motherfucker get some peace and quiet around here?”
I sat down, grabbed a maple glazed and propped my feet on the window ledge. Panzer stood, leaned over the desk and pointed at the box.
“By all means,” I said. “Help yourself.”
“Still nothing?” he asked.
I swept a wad of jelly away from the side of my mouth with the edge of my index finger. “Been everywhere I know to go. Got nothing.”
“She’s not at the bar.” He pulled a maple
glazed Long John from the box. “Just stopped by a few minutes ago. The fellas are kicking ass at getting the job done, but she hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Something stinks about this deal,” I said.
“Why you say that?”
I stared blankly at the taco shop. “Got a feeling.”
“Your gut’s always right,” Panzer said.
“Generally speaking,” I said.
“Think she’ll turn up?” he asked.
I reached for another donut. “I’m beginning to have my doubts.”
“After spending fifteen grand on kitchen equipment, it’d suck if she never came back.”
“You did what?” Brisco howled. “You spent fifteen—”
“What I spent is none of your business,” I snapped back. “It was a donation to the bar, so she could get the kitchen open.”
Brisco scowled. “Fifteen grand of the club’s money without a vote?”
I glared back at him. “Fifteen grand of my money.” I tossed the donut in the trash. “My fucking money. Mine. No need for a vote.”
“You spent fifteen grand on kitchen equipment for some bitch you don’t even know, and you won’t buy a new bike?”
“Don’t need a new bike.” I sucked the sugar from my fingertips. “The fellas all want something other than eggs and sausages, and she was keen on cooking. So, I donated some new equipment.”
“Dumbest fucking thing I ever heard,” he muttered.
“Pffft.” I rolled my eyes. “Dumber than a cat that cost damned near eight grand? Who ever heard of a one-percenter with a baby leopard cat? That’s some dumb shit, right there.”
“Cat’s a different story,” he insisted. “Cats provide comfort, companionship, and they—”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Brisco,” I said. “I’m not in the mood. My money. My decision.”
I reached for another donut. I really didn’t want to sit and talk about barbeque grills, cats, kitchen equipment, or new motorcycles. I felt miserable.
“You get a new phone or find your old one?” Panzer asked.
“New.”
“Why the fuck’d you buy a new phone?” Brisco asked.
“Because I lost my old one.”
“You lost that fucker a dozen times and never replaced it.”
“Well, smartass, if she needed to get ahold of me, how do you propose she do it if my phone is elsewhere?”
He rubbed his bald head with the palms of his hands. “What the fuck’s the deal with you and her, anyway?”
“There’s no deal.”
He squeezed his temples with the heels of his palms. “Seems like there’s a deal.”
“Well,” I said, taking half the donut in one bite. “There’s not. Just enjoy being around her. Never had that luxury before now. Keeps me from wanting to wring someone’s neck every time I get pissed off.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re telling me that gal fixes your PTSD?”
I ate the other half. “Seems to help.”
“Bullshit,” he spat.
I reached for another donut. “Haven’t snapped in two weeks.”
“Kinda snapped at the prospect,” Panzer said. “The other night.”
“That wasn’t a snap,” I argued. “You and that little turd were whispering sweet nothings when I was talking. It was a matter of teaching him—and reminding you—about respect.”
“Suppose so,” Panzer said. “She seems to be a good little ol’ gal. I can imagine she’d calm a man’s nerves. She suck a good dick?”
“Don’t know.”
“She ain’t smoked your pole?”
“Nope.”
He laughed. “You fucked her the first night we went in there, and she ain’t sucked your cock yet?”
“Nope.”
Panzer chuckled. “How’s a gal play hard to get after she gives it up on day one?”
“She didn’t give it up,” I said. “I took it.”
While Panzer mulled over my statement, my phone buzzed. I shot from my chair and snatched it out of my pocket. “Hello.”
“This Price?”
I didn’t recognize the voice. “Sure is.” I tossed the donut in the trash. “Who’s this?”
“This is uhhm. This is Rooster. You said to call Brisco if I knew anything, but…we uhhm. We asked around, and…Fuck, Price. I don’t know if you really want…Man, I don’t know what to do here. Kind of got me…us…we’re between a rock and a fuckin’—”
“You motherfucker.” I stormed into the garage. “I’ll ride over there and pull your fucking teeth out one by goddamned one with a pair of fucking pliers. I swear it, you prick. Tell me where she is.”
“Don’t know for sure where she is,” he replied. “But I know who’s got her.”
My temper was rising and rising fast. “Who?”
“You sure you wanna know?”
“God damn it, Rooster. I’ll—”
“Brisco,” he said. “Brisco’s got her. Sounds like they’re gonna kill—”
“What kind of a fucking game you playing?” I snarled. “Do you think I can’t find out in about ten seconds if you’re lying? Giving me information like this is going to get your dumb ass killed.”
“I ain’t lyin’, Price,” he stammered. “Word is Brisco had Shady and Chivo swipe her from the bar. They got her out at Brisco’s place. Shady said Brisco told ‘em to kill her. He’s all fucked up about it. Been texting and called a couple of times, thinking it ain’t right—”
He continued talking. Angry to the point I was numb, I lowered the phone and glanced toward my office. A wide-eyed Panzer was standing in the doorway. I stomped past him and glared at Brisco.
He looked up. His face was as white as a sheet.
“You want to tell me something?” I asked.
He swallowed heavily. “Nope.”
“Panzer, Carp, take a walk,” I growled. I gestured toward the door. “Now!”
“Listen, Boss.” Brisco stood. “She’s—”
“Fix what you’ve fucked up,” I insisted. “Right fucking now. Make the call. Do whatever you—”
“That gal’s no good, Price,” he said. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but this is what’s best for—”
“The club?” I snapped back. “You’re telling me this is what’s best for the fucking club?” I took a step in his direction. “My fucking club? You running my club now? You calling the fucking shots?”
“Boss—”
“One hair, Brisco.” I stepped so close I could taste the whisky on his breath. “One hair on her head’s out of place, and I’ll put wounds on you that time won’t heal, Brother. Undo whatever it is you’ve done. Right fucking now.”
A look of extreme concern washed over him. He swallowed heavily. “I can’t,” he said. “It’s too late.”
17
Gray
I tossed a shovel full of sand over the edge of the hole. Most of it blew back in my face. The mouthful of dirt absorbed what little moisture remained on the surface of my swollen tongue. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. I tried to wipe my face with my forearm, but it only made matters worse.
The charade had gone too far. I’d been driven to a remote location in the desert and was forced at gunpoint to dig my own grave. I was at my breaking point and wondered how much longer it would be before I was reduced to a blubbering mess. It was coming, I simply didn’t know when I’d snap.
Verbally, I hadn’t lost my composure. Maintaining the “I knew nothing” mantra wasn’t a difficult task. It was the truth. I’d reached the point several times that I wished I knew something. Had I, I certainly would have told them. I’d gone so long without food, water, or a bathroom break that I was delirious.
The hundred degree-plus desert heat wasn’t helping matters. Soaked in sweat and my own urine, I stood shin-deep in a shallow grave, wishing the game would end. I feared, however, that it wasn’t a game. Somehow, I ended up asking the wrong person the wrong question at the wrong time. My punis
hment?
Death.
I hadn’t been given any water since I tried to loosen my blindfold in the garage at sunrise. Based on the sun’s position in the sky, I knew it was late afternoon. I glanced at No Name. Of the two men, he was the compassionate one.
“Can I get a…drink…of water?” I asked.
Hearing my trembling voice reminded me of the men who were often found wandering the desert in the old western movies. Dry and cracking when I spoke, it made me sound like I was moments from death.
Tattoo waved the barrel of his gun in my direction. “Dig, bitch, dig.”
He was a horrible-looking specimen of manhood. Dressed in a filthy wife beater, baggy jeans, and a pair of lace-up boots, he was peppered from his fingertips to his chin in rudimentary tattoos, many of which were half-finished.
When my hood was removed, I was relieved—at least initially. That relief only lasted a few moments. A nagging fear soon replaced it. In the movies, seeing the faces of your abductors meant death was imminent.
The two men were either doing a good job of playing the part, or I was truly going to spend my last living moments digging my final resting spot.
If my initial thoughts were correct and what was happening was some sort of initiation, it was easy to see why so many people chose to ride solo. A club that required such mental and emotional sacrifices for an Ol’ Lady to be trusted had to require much more from their male members to earn a patch.
“Got anything you want to confess?” Tattoo asked.
I leaned against the shovel’s handle. “It doesn’t matter how many times you ask. I don’t know anything.”
“Keep digging, bitch,” he snarled.
My arms were too tired to plant a flower, let alone toss shovels of sand over my shoulder and onto the bank of a make-shift grave.
“I’m too tired to dig,” I said, lowering the shovel. “I’m done.”
Pacing the edge of the grave with his pistol in his hand, Tattoo surveyed the hole. He looked at No Name. “Is it deep enough?”
No Name shook his head adamantly. “Nope.” He glanced at his watch and then scanned the horizon before looking at Tattoo. “Twice that deep, at least.”
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