HANDS OFF MY WIFE_Black Cossacks MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “Nor should they, considering what he told you,” Adam said.

  Andre scoffed in agreement and continued, “He lives with his mom on Second Street, but he can normally be found at the Black Mark, you know that bar?”

  Adam nodded. He had drank at the Black Mark before. It was a workingman’s bar, cheap beer and they didn’t sell food, so smoking was allowed. Adam had stopped going when he quit the temptation had been too strong.

  “He’s a tall, skinny guy, over six foot, with shaggy brown hair, and a fucking mermaid tattoo on his right arm. My advice, just sit down next to him and shoot the shit, guy can’t keep his mouth shut. He’ll start talking and you can take it from there.” Andre said.

  “Thanks for the info,” Adam said, “your money’ll be at the door.”

  Andre nodded, but didn’t move. “This stays between us, but I hope you get them. These Soul Stealers, they’re a mess. They’ve got no idea what they’re doing. It’s causing some real problems in the city, messing up everybody’s business.” Adam nodded and with a heavy sigh Andre stood finished his drink and walked towards the door. Joey had been instructed to give Andre the money while Dakota waited.

  “Who’s Lance Declor? Let’s go to that bar,” Dakota said the second Adam walked into the office. Joey was standing next to her his arms crossed. “Have you ever been to the Black Mark?” she asked.

  “We’ve been,” Adam said, “but it’s pretty seedy.”

  “I can handle it,” Dakota said.

  “Not dressed like that you can’t,” Joey said.

  “I’m in jeans and a t-shirt,” Dakota said. And she was, but her jeans were clean and fit perfectly, the t-shirt she was wearing blue and white striped. Nobody was going to think she had bought them from Walmart. There was something about them, they were too nice, too clean, and they fit too well.

  “You’ll have to change. I have some shirts you can wear,” Adam said, aware that nothing would help. Dakota was too beautiful. There weren’t enough bad clothes in the world to hide that.

  “So I can come?” she asked. Adam looked at Joey who shrugged. One of them needed to stay and watch the club and a beautiful girl like Dakota might get farther with Lance with than Adam would.

  “You can come if you promise to listen to me and do as I say,” Adam said.

  “I can do that!” Dakota answered, pumping one fist in the air.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Dakota took a deep breath as she looked at The Black Mark Tavern. She was in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city. The streets were lined with row homes, but every other one seemed to be boarded up, teenagers on their bike sweeping passed her, but they paid her no mind. In dirty jeans, a ratty black shirt, and messy hair, Dakota had never stood out less. She and Adam had ruined her appearance. Her jeans had been dragged through the dirt, she was wearing one of Adam’s shirts, she had no makeup on, and her hair was in a messy ponytail. Had her father never been attacked, Dakota would have never left the house looking like this. But now, standing on a random corner in the city, it was nice to be unrecognized. People looked right through her. It was different, and not entirely bad.

  Adam had entered The Black Mark five minutes ago. He would be sitting near Lance Declor. Dakota was instructed to sit right next to him and engage him in conversation. If everything went well, he would tell her everything he knew. Dakota took a deep breath and marched towards The Black Mark shaking and nervous. This was not a safe place; her father would have a heart attack if he knew she was there.

  She swung the door open and gave her eyes a second to adjust. The Black Mark was dark, the windows covered in paper so no sunlight shone through. It was a decent sized place with a long U-shaped bar, a handful of tables, and a pool table in the back. There were about fifteen other people there, the place reeked of cigarette smoke, and Dakota could see the smoke itself wafting around her. She and Adam had seen Lance enter the bar about fifteen minutes ago and she spotted him instantly, sitting at the bar with a beer in one hand, the fingers of his left hand drumming impatiently against the bar.

  Dakota took her seat next to him and gave him a half-hearted smile as she did so. Even after being “dirtied up,” she was still doing something right and she resisted the urge to make a nasty face as Lance Declor looked her up and down. She hated it when men did that.

  “Lager,” she said, saying it just as Adam had told her to, and she watched as the bartender dutifully poured her a glass. She needed to find a way to engage Lance Declor, something natural and not-specific that she could say to pull him out of his shell.

  “Hey there, early day for a lady to get a drink,” Lance said and it took all of Dakota’s efforts to not laugh, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

  “Well, I never proclaimed to be a lady,” Dakota said, taking a gulp from her drink and putting it back down, “and you’re drinking, too, so it can’t be that early.”

  “Fair enough. I’m Lance, by the way, and if you don’t mind me saying, you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen in this bar,” he held out his hand and Dakota took it and firmly shook.

  “I’m Amanda, and I worked two overnights, so today is my day off and I thought I’d try somewhere new. Everybody talks about his bar, but I’ve never been before.” Over Lance’s shoulder she could see Adam slumped in a stool, his eyes on the television over the bar, but Dakota knew he was listening to them.

  “You picked a good bar. We have a lot of fun here. I hope to see you around more often, or at least a little longer today. You know I hate to drink alone, Amanda.”

  “Me, too,” Dakota said, “but if you’re drinking with me, you need to keep up. Can I get a shot of Jameson?” she said to the bartender.

  “Make it two, and put them and the lady’s beer on my tab,” Lance said.

  “Well thank you very much,” Dakota said, giving him a sweet smile.

  She drank her shot and forced herself not to shudder as the burning sensation cascaded down her throat. Dakota hated whiskey, but Adam told her it was the only shot worth getting. Adam had her eat a big, carb heavy meal before coming to bar. He was hoping it would help her hold her liquor, and Dakota was just hoping she wasn’t going to throw it all up later.

  “So, what are you doing in the bar in the middle of the afternoon?” Dakota asked.

  “Well, my job is mostly nights. So that leave’s my day wide open,” Lance answered.

  “What do you do?” Dakota asked.

  “I work for some people, let’s leave it at that,” Dakota tried not to roll her eyes as Lance’s sudden pompous nature.

  “Mysterious,” Dakota said, letting herself start to get bored. She looked around the room, as if there was someone else there she would rather be talking to.

  “And what do you do?” Lance asked, moving his bar stool closer.

  “Walmart, I work in the back, dealing with receiving and overnight orders.”

  “Girl as pretty as you, you should be in the front. You could be a model.”

  “Ha! Not me, and I’m better in the back, not so good with customers.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had that problem myself,” Lance said.

  “It’s hard to find good work in the city,” Dakota said.

  “Don’t I know it? I’ve been bouncing from job to job for a while now. It’s hard to find people you can trust. But I think I got good thing going now, making some money and connections. Plus, no more working for the man.” That last part was said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Ugh, don’t get me started,” Dakota said. “Time sheets, day off requests, I feel like I have to fill out a form to go to the bathroom. We have all these meetings about values and moral. All I want to do is go to work, put my time in, and get paid. Why do I care about Walmart’s values? They don’t concern me. I got written up the other day for a bad attitude. Can you believe that? All of my work was done perfectly, but I didn’t have smile on my face, so it wasn’t enough. I work in the back; nobody needs to see me smile. I don’t know how much lon
ger I can take it there, but I need the money, you know?”

  “Listen, if you’re looking for work, I know some people who are hiring,” Lance said quietly.

  “Oh really, who?” Dakota asked.

  Lance looked around the bar, peering up and over the taps, looking incredibly conspicuous. Again, Dakota resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his antics. Andre was right; this guy was a joke.

  “The Soul Stealers,” he said finally said to Dakota.

  To their right, Adam scoffed loudly, and she and Lance both turned to look at him. Slowly Adam turned away from the television so he was facing Dakota and Lance. He looked them both up and down with a look of disappointment and said, “The Soul Stealers are a joke. No one takes them seriously. Don’t quit your day job, honey.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The Soul Stealers have gone legit. They have real work and real contacts now. They’re making a lot of money.”

  “Says who?” Adam asked.

  “Says me,” Lance responded.

  “You a member?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working my way into the ranks, and let me give you a piece of advice; you should get in now. There’s a lot of money to make for people who show their loyalty early and often. Now’s the time to get in; they got more work than they can handle.”

  Adam pulled his stool closer to Lance. Like Dakota, he had dirtied himself up, his hair and face hiding under an ancient and grease-stained Phillies cap. “What kind of work?” Adam asked.

  “Protection, moving things, connecting people. The usual sort of work,” Lance answered.

  “You think you could get me a meeting?” Adam asked.

  “Well, I was kind of talking to Amanda here, but you’re a big guy. I’m sure they could find something for you to do. Tell you what, I’ll talk to some people here tonight. Meet me here tomorrow and we’ll see what they say.”

  “Great,” Adam said hitting Lance hard on his back. “Bartender, can I get some shots for me and my friends here.” The bartender was only too quick to respond, pouring more Jameson shots onto the bar. The three of them downed their drinks quickly as Adam asked for another. Dakota’s head was already spinning; she didn’t think she could take much more, so she followed Adam’s advice: a shot and then a swig of beer, only instead of drinking, you spit the shot back into the drink. It was a little awkward, but as long as Lance wasn’t looking right at her, Dakota was able to skip most of her shots.

  Across the bar, Adam was having better luck. As the bartender continued to pour shots, Lance got less and less steady on his stool, but Adam remained sharp. His firm hand was on Lance’s shoulder keeping him upright. Dakota had lost count of how many shots Lance had swallowed, but by the way he slurred his speech and his eyes seemed unable to focus, she imagined they were close.

  “So come on, tough guy,” she said to him, pressing her leg against his under the bar. “Give me some stories of life with the Soul Stealers. It sounds more fun than stocking shelves, that’s for sure.”

  “Okay...all right...” Lance slurred. “But it’s a secret; you can’t tell nobody.”

  “We promise,” Dakota whispered in his ear.

  “You know the Kanes?” Lance slurred in a whisper.

  Dakota’s heart stopped, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I mean, I don’t know them, but I’ve heard of them,” she said.

  “You, me, and everybody else in this city, sweetheart. You heard about the old man that got shot in his bed?”

  Dakota and Adam nodded, and Lance stopped and gave them both a look before he continued. “Soul Stealers did it. Somebody hired them, some guy wants the Kanes out of the way – daddy and the hot daughter, no offense,” he said, that last part to Dakota who was desperate to point out the irony.

  “Why would someone want to kill them?” Dakota asked. Her heart was pounding, she couldn’t breathe, was it really going to be this easy?

  “No idea,” Lance said with a shrug.

  “Who hired the Soul Stealers to do it?”

  Again Lance shrugged, “that’s above my pay grade, honey,” he said. “But I’m going to do some work for them tonight. Maybe after...maybe tomorrow, I meet you here and we talk about it some more. Oh yeah, and I get you a job,” he said pointing to Adam.

  Dakota wanted to scream. She already knew that someone had hired the Soul Stealers to kill her, but she needed to know who it was. If they couldn’t figure it out, Dakota would never be able to relax again; she would have to spend her entire life looking out for attackers and assassins.

  “Speaking of work, I gotta sober up,” Lance said, shaking his head and arms as if that would help. “Gotta get to work.”

  Dakota opened her mouth, not entirely sure what she would say, but she saw Adam give a quick shake of his head and she stopped herself.

  “I hope you’re not driving,” Dakota said sweetly,

  “Nope...gotta ride, going to work down at the pier tonight,” Lance said as he stood and then nearly toppled over. Adam caught him and pulled him back onto his feet. Lance laughed and threw three twenties on the table before stumbling out into daylight.

  “We have to follow him,” she hissed to Adam.

  “We will; give it a minute,” he said, throwing some more money down onto the bar. “I’ll go out first and look for him. You give me five minutes and then head to the car. I’ll meet you there.”

  Dakota nodded and Adam headed out the door while she anxiously watched the clock. She was suddenly aware that she was alone in a bad neighborhood in a dive bar, and she was one of only two women here; the other being a chain smoker with a bad dye job and acid washed jeans in the corner. Adam had left. He trusted her enough to leave her alone in this dangerous place. Dakota was determined to make him proud; she pretended to be relaxed, to sip from her beer until a full five minutes had passed. With a nod to the bartender, she walked out into the blinding light and towards her car.

  She heard footsteps behind her, but knew they belonged to Adam. She turned down a side street to see her car undamaged on the corner where they had parked it. From behind her, Adam remotely unlocked the door and got into the driver’s seat.

  “Are you okay to drive?” she asked.

  “I only had one beer. The rest went back into the empty bottle,” he said.

  Dakota wished she could say the same. The world was spinning a little, and here she was about to go spy on a gang down by docks; she would only have a few blocks to sober up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Adam quelled his embarrassment at being behind the wheel of a Prius, not that it was a bad car, but if anyone at Scarred Angels saw him he would never live it down. But the car was doing what he needed it to do, drive quietly and inconspicuously. Adam caught up quickly with Lance; the man stumbled outside and waited for his ride, a crappy old Chevy. They kept a few cars back and followed the car as it travelled down Delaware Avenue farther and farther south.

  The cars around them thinned out and Adam allowed more room to come between him and the Chevy, following it closely with his eyes. He was all too aware of Dakota next to him, her thin frame and delicate features. He wished she were at home, tucked away safe in his bed behind a barrage of locks. She was sitting forward in her seat, craning her neck to see the car better. She had no idea the danger he was placing her in, the people she might meet on this dark night.

  The Chevy made a left turn off the road and towards the river. Adam turned to follow it, turning off the car’s lights as he did so. He could see the taillights of the Chevy a few hundred yards in front of him stopped. Adam slowed down until he was going less than five miles. The only danger now was hearing the wheels on the road. He inched his way closer to the taillights of the Chevy, finally pulling the car to the side, hiding it behind a building.

  Just a few more yards away were the docks with thousands of shipping containers stacked on top of each other. Everything from silk to toilet paper was stacked up beyond them. The docks were well-lit except for th
e places where they weren’t, the dark slits between the containers where all sorts of nasty things could happen, something Adam knew about first hand.

  Then a low roar from behind them that grew in intensity until it was painfully loud as a phalanx of motorcycles roared past the car and over to the Chevy. Adam counted eight bikes and rolled his eyes at their tactics. They were loud and obvious, and subtlety was clearly not something the Soul Stealers understood.

  “What do we do now?” Dakota whispered.

  “Hand me the bag,” Adam said. Adam had stocked up before he left Scarred Angels, his gun in its holster. From a black duffel bag, he pulled out two black facemasks and a pair of binoculars. “Put this on,” he said to Dakota, “and make sure that your hair is hidden in it.” He watched as she swallowed nervously and took the mask from him, pulling it over her face and tucking her hair up into it. No one here could know who she was, or who Adam was; it would be too dangerous.