by AJ Adams
But the platform heels were dug in deep, “What’s my name?”
Before I could stop myself, I was snapping back. “I’ve no idea!”
“You bastard!” The redhead was yelling, cursing a blue streak. “You used me!”
I was about to throw her out when she turned on her platform heels and stomped off.
Brianne was still standing there, grinning. “Silly cow.”
Honestly, after that come-on just minutes before, I was surprised.
“I want to learn,” Brianne repeated.
“Mitch is the best.”
“All right, I learn from him, but when I get to be really good, I want to be your left-hand girl.” She grinned again, “Seeing Mitch is your right-hand man, that’s okay, yeah?”
It was a relief. “Sounds fair.”
She was nodding. “Terrific.” And then, “Uhm, Rex? That was Frankie Swan. You met her at the Henley Garden Jubilee supper last week.”
“A week ago?” I was punching numbers on my phone, looking for the man who’d fix the Portaloos. “If it’s been that long, it’s no wonder I don’t remember her.”
Brianne was mouthing, but then she saw I meant it. “Right,” she said brightly. “I’ll go and double-check on bar supplies.”
I found the Portaloo man still on the grounds, and as the problem was quickly fixed, I was soon making my way to the kitchen.
Flash, Total, Speed, and DT were sitting at the kitchen table, demolishing garlic bread loaded with slices of sharp cheddar cheese. Flash, Total, Speed work in the garage we own in the village, and DT has his financial firm next door, so if there’s trouble downtown, they’re first to be called out.
By the look of them, they’d been front and centre subduing the overexcited footie hooligans. Flash had a black eye, Total had a grazed arm, and DT and Speed were running ice over their knuckles. But they were smiling, happy to have had a bit of action.
“How did it go?” Crush was drinking a beer, tossing it back in one go, and crushing the can between thumb and forefinger after.
“Just as we thought.” I usually stick to tea, getting hammered during an event is suicide, but with Mitch in charge, I decided I’d enjoy myself. I helped myself to an ice-cold Stella. “He doesn’t like us, and he’s going to be difficult.”
“Fuck.” Crush’s pale blue eyes were thoughtful. “Shall we take him out of the equation?”
“It’s not safe to kill coppers,” Flash twitched. “Unless they’re corrupt, and we know Harding is squeaky clean.”
“Killing is clumsy,” Crush said calmly. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“A man like that is easy enough to get out of the way,” DT mused. “He may be straight, but he’s made a tonne of enemies. The second he screws up, his own men will be gunning for him.”
“We can make mistakes happen,” Total smiled.
“Neutralising him is better,” Crush said. “All we have to do is get him into bed with one of our kinkier girls and take a few pictures. A man like that lives for his squeaky clean image. Once we have him pinned, we can keep him around, and he’ll do as he’s told.”
You’ll have gathered by now that we don’t play nice. We can’t afford to. The Disciples are more than a biker club; we’re a business association. In the past twelve months, we’d put five million quid through the village. Bonnington was more than a home, it was our lifeblood, and anyone threatening that, even a senior policeman, would quickly find himself dealt with. Permanently.
“I don’t think blackmail will work,” I told them. “This is the first time he’s in charge of his own team. He’s going to be super keen and desperate to do everything by the book.”
Crush was nodding. “It won’t last long. Once he realises what he’s up against, he’ll shit himself.”
Although we’d fought off and defeated the Alistairs, a particularly nasty criminal gang, two years earlier, it didn’t mean we were free and clear. There was a constant stream of players trying to get their claws into Bonnington, from the Horde in nearby Lincoln to various gangsters trucking up from London.
DT was shaking his head. “Come on, Crush. It’s not that bad.”
“We need to be vigilant,” Crush replied. “Especially when we have events. Crowds make us vulnerable to trouble.”
“We’ve built Bonnington into a very ripe plum,” Flash mused. “It’s no wonder everyone’s going to have a go at taking it from us.”
“We’re victims of our success,” Total sighed.
“Pooh, we can take care of our turf,” DT shrugged. “We’ve got the place well under control.”
“We certainly do,” Kraken was rolling in. “All the girls are back at work.” He picked a beer out of the fridge. “I brought a dozen with me. If you need extra hands in the beer tent, they’ll help out, Rex.”
“Meaning you want me to pay them while they scout out who’s ripe for pulling?”
“They don’t work for free,” Kraken grinned. “Just be grateful they’re not charging their usual rates.”
I moaned out of habit, but I knew Mitch would be delighted. Regular female staff like Brianne would be antsy around drunken Disciples, especially as late-night frolics included gangbangs and fist fights. As working girls have seen it all, having them work the bar would be win-win.
“Tell Mitch,” I said. “He’s in charge tonight.”
Kraken grinned, “I bet the girls will persuade him to celebrate.”
“As long as they do it on his time and dime, I’m all for it.”
“We need to go over security plans,” Crush said, looking at his watch. “Where’s Zero?”
“Here,” Zero came barrelling in, wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase and looking every inch the successful lawyer. “Sorry I’m late. It took forever to clear all the paperwork. Luckily it hadn’t hit the computers yet.”
“So there’s no record of the arrests?” I asked.
“Not anymore,” Zero grinned.
He’s the best, Zero. A real miracle worker. Keeping a clean sheet is good for business, so that was good news.
“Brilliant,” DT sighed. “That’s a bunch of red tape avoided for me as well.”
As I said, we’re an association. There are dozens of Disciples clubs, and hundreds of members, but the Bonnington chapter has an executive made up of Crush, Flash, Kraken, DT, Speed, Zero, Total and me. As we’re also business partners, owning a garage, a club, and several other businesses, it means we’re super tight, working together on club and work matters.
With Zero arriving, we were ready to get to business.
“Now we’re all here,” Crush said. “Let’s call the meeting to order.”
“Oh good, money,” Flash sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of making the stuff.”
“With the party attracting ten thousand people, we’ll be coining it,” Crush grinned. He raised his beer to me, “Thanks, Rex.”
I should have been happy because my music fests had become iconic. When I’d held my first one, the English Indie Music Fest, we sold half our tickets and gave the other half away, just to ensure a decent crowd.
Now I held a music fest every quarter, and all of them were smash hits. Even after tripling the prices, we had to turn the punters away in droves. The next three days would make us a fucking fortune, but it just wasn’t exciting me. I wanted new horizons.
Although I was taking a rare night off from running my own events company, the Disciples association were providing security. As a part of the executive, I had to check in on arrangements. Also, we’d be supplying extra services, by which I mean sex and drugs. You know, to go with the rock and roll.
“We’ve got Poison and the Durham chapter running security tonight, and Snake and the boys from Skegness on tomorrow,” Crush began. “But I want us to keep an eye out for trouble. Rumour has it that the Horde is sending in uncover dealers, hoping to sell cut-price ecstasy and dope to the punters. We don’t want them creaming the top off our business.�
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It was nothing new; we were always fighting off competition. As he went on, I zoned out. I snapped back when my phone buzzed.
“Rex,” David McCullough, chairman of Laurie Brothers Investment bank, blasted in my ear. “You owe me a big one, mate! My price is a date with Emma Watson.”
Instantly my palms were wet. My heart was banging away as well. “It’s a go, then?”
The executive were staring at me, all of them holding their breath.
“I’ve secured you twenty mil,” David said cheerfully. “If you get me that date, I’ll bring the paperwork with me. It will save you a trip to London.”
“I’ll have VIP tickets waiting for you at the gate.” I sounded cool enough, but I was sweating so much that the phone was about to slide out of my hands. “Thanks, David. I owe you.”
“I’m with you a hundred percent. You’ve got a great investment record,” David assured me. “But Rex, some of my partners are a little worried, and our chairman, Kennard Wilton, particularly so.”
I knew what was coming. “Oh?”
“They don’t like your association with that motorcycle gang,” David continued. “It doesn’t look good, you know.”
There was no point in arguing. Few people understood the challenges we faced, and I wasn’t going to argue with the man who was gifting me with my dearest wish. “They’ll be happy when they see the returns.”
“A luxury marina in Bonnington,” David laughed. “It’s a wild idea. But as you have a way of making shitloads of cash, we’re in.”
That’s bankers for you. Don’t let the suits and ties ever fool you. Bankers are bandits, legalised pirates who live for money and power. As I’m a robber baron, David and I got on well.
Our friendship was why I approached him to talk to his board. I’d known they’d turn me down flat if I went myself, Kennard Wilton was a particular stickler for what he called Christian values, but by asking David to represent me, they’d focussed on the business rather than the man who’d be running it.
I got my breath back. “David, come down to Perdition tomorrow. But, as Emma is a bright girl who won’t be fooled by your act for a second, I’ll arrange a backup date that will blow your socks off.”
“Awesome!” David laughed. But then I heard him shutting a door and then he was talking privately, “Rex, listen,” David was serious. “You must keep your nose clean.”
“I understand.”
“No biker fights, no scandal of any kind.”
“Absolutely.”
“Great,” he sighed. Then he perked up again. “I’m in the mood for wild monkey sex. You know what, I might pass on Emma and go straight for your bird. I’m assuming she’s a nice dirty girl?”
“Filthy!”
When I hung up, there was a moment of deafening silence. The executive were waiting, but I was suddenly at a loss for words.
“They said yes.” Crush can read me like a book. “Congratulations, Rex.”
They were all grinning at me.
“Your dream project,” Kraken smiled.
“The cove is perfect for a deep water marina,” Flash murmured.
“They’ll come flocking,” Zero agreed.
“Luxury condos, nautical shops, and fancy boutiques,” DT sighed.
“It’s fucking awesome,” Kraken said warmly.
Crush was eyeing the others. There was another split second of meaningful silence, and then he was saying, “Rex, do you want out of the MC?”
I was gawping at him. “What?”
“We know you want this badly,” he was looking into the distance, not looking me in the eye. “You want a project of your own, right? To build up a luxury marina complex, and ask Caden to swap it for the estate?”
It was precisely what I’d longed for. “It would be worth ten times as much as Perdition,” I heard myself say. “And Caden doesn’t really want the house. He always thought he’d live at Stony Farm.”
“Yeah, we know,” Crush sighed. “Look, we’ll miss you. You’re the best banker we’ve ever had. But we understand you’ve got other commitments.”
I just stared at him. “When we met, I was teetering on the edge of disaster. I was broke, and they were about to pull the rug from under my feet. You lent me your own money, believed in me. And on top of that, you and the MC have had my back ever since.”
Crush shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Those banker wankers won’t like you associating with us.”
We’d been in the most desperate of situations together, we were as close as brothers, and now they were going to step back, just because my pride was at stake. “I know what it is,” I tried to be cool, but my voice was rough. “You bastards don’t want to be holding the bag for twenty mil.”
“Damn straight,” Crush cracked back.
“You rumbled us,” Kraken was grinning.
The others just laughed. They all knew the facts as well as I, but I said it anyway, “The loan runs through Parley Enterprises, my private company. You are individual investors with a contract that guarantees a percentage of the returns but with no liability should it go pear-shaped.”
“So we bet and we may lose our stake but that’s it,” Flash was the least comfortable with finance.
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“We’re going to be stinking rich,” Flash sighed.
“Exactly.” I looked around the table. “We’ve built up Belial’s Disciples MC Bonnington chapter from a small enterprise to a respectable seven figure business. But this is different. From this moment on, we’re in the big league.”
Crush raised his beer, “To making shitloads of cash!”
We were on our way.
Chapter Five
Lacy
“You were in lock-up?” Rachel worried. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Absolutely. It was just a few hours, love. I’m fine.”
But Rachel was nervous. “I went round to your cottage, just to check on the builders, and they said some people came round asking for you.”
Hell. “What kind of people?”
“Bikers,” Rachel said bleakly. “Lacy, what kind of trouble are you in?”
Shit. “Don’t worry,” I lied instinctively. “It’s nothing.”
I don’t usually fib, well apart to questions like, “Does my bum look big in this?” but with Rachel I’m always a bit careful. You see, we’re sisters, but we’ve lived very different lives.
My mum died when I was born, so my dad brought me up. He was a wild man, in and out of jail for fighting and being drunk, so I was never a sheltered blossom. He also screwed more than Black and Decker. By the time I was ten, I’d seen it all at least once.
Rachel was the result of one of his flings. Her usually teetotal mum got totally plastered one Christmas and was unfortunate enough to meet our dad. They had it off in the pub loo of all places and apart from wrecking the sink, their condom split.
When the poor woman sobered up, she ditched dad pronto. Later, when she found herself up the spout, she had Rachel but made it clear she didn’t fancy taking on dad and me. Instead, she married the local vicar.
While we never made it to a blended family, Rachel and I liked the idea of having a sister. We’d met at Dad’s funeral and kept in touch afterwards. Over the years, we’d become good friends. But with her growing up with a bible in her hand and me swigging tequila with Dad’s bad-boy friends, we had very different perspectives on life.
In fact, as Rachel was extremely straight laced, I’d never told her the true story about Mia’s birth. Rachel had simply accepted my pregnancy as an outcome of my unmentionable job, and by the time I realised she’d picked up on the fictional loving daddy story I’d told Mia, it seemed easier to let it slide.
“I had a dispute with one of my clients,” I said carefully. “I’m on my way to sort it out now.”
“Oh.” Rachel was nervous, but as always she was kind, the darling. “Well, we’re off to Butlins in Skegness tomorrow for a mini break. Mia is we
lcome to come along.”
“Rachel, you’re the best.” It came from the heart because that would give me time to fix everything. “I’m sending you some cash, okay?”
“Any time,” then Rachel was calling Mia, “Mummy for you, sweetie.”
I’d promised to be home for dinner, and as I never break my promises, not ever, I was terrified that Mia would be upset. That evil thought died a death the second she picked up the phone, “Mummy, can I go to Butlins with Sue and Rose, pleeeeeease?”
“Well, does Aunt Rachel say it’s okay?” Because I’m teaching my little one to be respectful of her elders.
“Yes!” Mia was singing in excitement. “There’s a pool, and a beach and Uncle Alex says we can go pony riding!”
If she could, she’d swap her feet for hooves. “All right, love. I have to work so I can’t come. But you’ll phone me every day, won’t you?”
“Every morning and every night, Mummy.”
Thanks to lots of sleepovers with her cousins, Mia was well into the routine. We chatted about her day, and by the time we sent each other kisses, I was ready to face lean and mean. More than ready, actually. Knowing that Jason and his MC buds were tracking me to my home fuelled my determination to get this problem fixed.
Perdition lay ten miles outside the village, and as the country lanes were narrow and winding, and busy with bikers on their way to the party, it was by no means a snap to get there.
As modelling sessions are often followed by a night out, clients want their models to help out with promotion, I always carry my official clubbing outfit with me. I took advantage of the journey to exchange my polka dot summer dress for a skin-tight little black number, a wide silver chain belt, and a spiked BDSM collar.
“Blimey,” the driver was pop-eyed watching the transformation. “They’re going to love you at Perdition.”
“I hope so!” I was putting on my party face, lining my eyes, adding some bronzing powder and topping up my super-stay Beso Red lippie. “Perdition is party central, right?”
“A regular Sodom and Gomorrah,” the driver assured me.
