Faster (Stark Ink, #3)

by Dahlia West

  “Fuck off!” someone yelled from inside.

  “I— ” Ava started to shout back, but hesitated. What should she say? ‘Special delivery’ seemed somehow entirely inappropriate. She banged again on the door. “Hook sent me,” she replied and held her breath.

  As she stood in front of the door, she realized that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. It wasn’t exactly bulletproof.

  She glanced around nervously. There were cars here and there throughout the neighborhood, but no one out and about. No dogs, either. She raised her hand to knock again.

  Before she could, the door swung open. A tall, thin guy with a scraggly beard and matching hair blinked out at her. He squinted, then smiled at her.

  “Heeey,” he drawled.

  Ava glared at him. She slid the pack down her arm and swung it at him. It hit his chest with a light thud.

  “You’re supposed to take this,” she informed him. “And... and...” She glanced around again. This time she lowered her voice, “And give me the money.”

  He sniffed and looked down at the dingy backpack. “Well, come inside.”

  Ava frowned at him and bit her lower lip.

  He rubbed the back of his head lazily. “I don’t keep it all in one place, baby girl,” he told her. “I need some time to get it.”

  Ava bristled. “I don’t have time!” she snapped. “I need it now!”

  He grinned at her. “You need something now. That’s for sure.” He opened the door wider. “Come on in. Hang out.”

  Ava didn’t want to, but she realized that this guy needed supervision. If she let him take the pack without giving her the money, she might be here for a long, long time. Too long. Or, she thought with a shudder, he might take the pack and then just lock the door.

  Reluctantly, she stepped inside the darkened house.

  Once inside, he closed the door after her and locked it. When she looked up at him questioningly, he merely shrugged and grinned. “Can’t be too careful,” he told her.

  Thankfully, he wandered away, toward the kitchen off to the right.

  Ava hovered near the door, prepared to bolt if she had to. If she didn’t get the money, though, could she risk going back to the warehouse empty handed? Maybe it was better to go the police.

  Ava chewed her lower lip nervously as she considered it. The problem was, only a few Buzzards were even at the warehouse. She wasn’t sure just how big the MC was, but she knew it was fairly large, having seen them riding as a group around town occasionally. So what if RCPD arrested just those few? There were still a ton more, and who was to say that Hook (or even Clint—dirty asshole) wouldn’t send some guys to her house in retribution?

  She glanced worriedly into the kitchen again. She needed this to happen. Fast. Not making the delivery simply wasn’t an option.

  In the dim light, despite the dark sheets hung over all the windows in place of actual curtains, she could make out the messy kitchen table. There were baggies strewn all over it and even a scale in the middle of the flat surface.

  She stifled a groan. She couldn’t even be surprised, really. She’d known she wasn’t delivering Girl Scout cookies.

  Ava watched in horror as he opened the pack and pulled out a huge block, saran-wrapped. The glint of green through the clear plastic was unmistakable. She had just delivered a block, or a ‘brick’ she supposed, of weed.

  Make that two, she realized, as he pulled out a second.

  Ava shuddered. If she’d been pulled over, or been tagged by that SUV, where would she be right now? Handcuffed and waiting for Pop and Adam to bail her out, that’s where. Would they, even? Or would they leave her in jail indefinitely to teach her a lesson?

  She watched as he rifled through cabinets, drawers, and even the damn refrigerator, gathering up wads of cash. He grinned at her. “Green for green,” he told her.

  Ava couldn’t manage a smile.

  He counted, slowly, as she danced back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I’ve got to get back,” she declared, inching toward the front door.

  “What’s the rush?”

  She didn’t answer, preferring not to think about the image of Hook holding a knife to Clint’s throat. Or the fact that her throat might be next on the man’s To-Do list.

  He re-packed the bag, carefully, which was almost comical given the Disaster Area-like status of the rest of the house. The living room was littered with beer cans and overflowing ashtrays. Ava chose not to look too closely at what kind of cigs had been stubbed out.

  He came back out of the kitchen, holding the pack out to her. She tried to take it but at the last second he pulled it away playfully.

  “I have to go,” Ava told him, more than a little irritated.

  “Stay a while. Got some Kush, just cleaned my bong. Take a load off,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “Take a toke.”

  Ava reached for the money but again he moved it out of her reach. She glared at him. “Hook wants the money. Now. And if I don’t get right back to him, he’s going to come looking for me.” She looked at this scrawny, dopey dude and figured his association with the MC began and ended with what he called ‘green for green.’ This guy couldn’t handle himself. Hell, even Ava could bring him down with a well-placed kick and a couple of jabs.

  She leveled her gaze at him. “Do you want Hook to show up here?”

  Her impression of Dopey was that he was an idiot, probably just trying to earn enough to cover his own habit. It probably just so happened that the MC had access to Dopey’s product of choice. Ava’s first impression of Hook, however, was that he was more than a little bit unstable and definitely violent. He was a creepy douchebag, too. She hated even saying the man’s name, but she hoped it was enough to convince this guy to give her what she came for.

  Dopey hesitated, then shook his head vehemently. It was the first time since she’d knocked on the door that he looked actually concerned. He finally held out the pack. “No,” he grumbled. “Definitely not.”

  Ava slung the backpack onto her shoulders as she whirled for the door. Without waiting for Dopey’s assistance, she flipped the deadbolt and surged out of the house. Her boots thudded on the warped boards of the porch.

  “Next time you’re staying a while!” Dopey called after her.

  The screen door banged behind her. She hopped back on the Honda and brought the engine to life. She didn’t have time to count the money, which didn’t really matter since she didn’t know what the going rate was for that much weed anyway. She sped off, back the way she’d come, and prayed that it was all there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ava skidded into the small lot outside the warehouse and nearly overturned her bike trying to jump off. The heavy pack slammed against her back as she sprinted for the front door. She twisted the knob and yanked hard. Inside, she was relieved to see that Clint was still in one piece. So were Tweedledee and Tweedledumb, though neither one looked particularly comfortable. Clint actually sighed loudly as she stumbled inside.

  Before she could say anything, Haze grabbed the strap of the pack and lifted it off her shoulders. Ava didn’t struggle. She was glad to be rid of the damn thing. In fact, she’d have liked nothing more than to turn around and leave all these assholes far, far behind. One look at Hook’s face told her that wasn’t going to happen.

  “You’re a minute-and-a-half late,” Hook announced as Haze rifled through the pack.

  Ava bristled. “Traffic in midtown is horrible!” she argued. “I nearly wiped out getting back here! I hit a parked car! And you should tell your dealer to just hand over the money, not waste time making small talk!”

  Hook paused and cocked his head at her. “Dealer,” he repeated slowly.

  Ava pressed her lips together for a moment. Clearly, she wasn’t supposed to know too much. Hook hadn’t even told her what she’d been carrying. “He invited me inside,” she replied. “There was shit all over his place.”

  She felt a large hand on her arm and she jerked her head
around, startled. The largest one, Haze, was glaring down at her. He raised his other hand, finger in her face. “You don’t ever go inside,” he growled. “You got that? You stay outside, make the delivery, get your ass back. Do not go inside.”

  Ava raised her chin. “I— ”

  “Late is late!” Hook declared loudly. As everyone watched, he grabbed Clint and raised the knife.

  “No!” Ava screamed. She started to move forward, but Haze grabbed her from behind.

  “Stay back,” the large man whispered in her ear.

  The knife sliced through the air and then through Clint’s pasty white skin. He doubled over, bellowing in pain. Blood splashed onto the concrete floor. “Fuck!” he yelled, clutching his cheek. He struggled to right himself. “What the fuck?” he shouted at Hook.

  Hook merely shrugged and wiped the dirty blade on his jeans. “Just showing you, all of you,” he said, glancing around the warehouse, “that I’m a man of my word.” He looked back at Clint and grinned. “You needed a little edge anyway. This is a tough business. It’s not for pussies.” He jerked his chin at Ava. “Even the pussy’s not a pussy, are you, peaches?”

  Ava was pressed against Haze as his large arms were wrapped around her. She couldn’t move. She could barely catch her breath.

  “Here,” said Haze as he pressed something into her hand. It was a wad of bills. He pushed the stack into her palm and closed her fingers over it gently. “It was a good run,” he told her.

  “She’ll do,” Hook declared as he put away his blade and started for the door. As he passed Haze, he took the rest of the cash and pocketed it. He winked at Ava. “Rest up, peaches. We’ll have another run for you soon enough.”

  Ava watched as the Buzzards filed back out of the warehouse as quietly as they’d entered in the first place. The last one, Haze, glared at her, though, on the way out the door.

  She frowned back at him.

  What the hell was his problem? If he wanted someone else for the job, he should just fucking hire one. She didn’t want this job, anyway. She’d never asked for it. She’d had it sprung on her with no possible way to say hell no.

  She couldn’t rail against the Buzzards. That was most likely a one-way ticket to the hospital, or maybe even a shallow grave. She loved the Badlands, but she didn’t want to end up getting her bones picked clean by actual buzzards. When the door clicked closed, Ava turned instead to the one person she could blame. The one who’d set her up for this bullshit.

  She whirled and glared at Clint. Fury rose inside her as she looked at his bloody face. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted as she picked up a wrench and hurled it at him.

  He ducked while still holding a dirty rag to his cheek. “Hey, don’t get all high and mighty with me! We needed another driver and you owe me, Ava!”

  She gaped at him. “Owe you? I don’t owe you shit! Half that money was mine, Clint! I mapped out those canyons for you. I taught you how to drive on loose terrain like that.” She shot daggers at The Wolf standing just a few feet away. “I told you which assholes to watch out for. Your wins were my wins, Clint. I just didn’t have a bike to do it myself.”

  Clint snorted. “So, you helped yourself to my fat stacks and bought your own. Typical of a low-rent bitch.”

  Before she could stop herself, she shouted, “You helped yourself to a lot more than that!”

  “Oh, boo-fucking-hoo. I popped your cherry and you got all pissy about it. Frankly, I was surprised it was your first time. I’d have figured a bunny like you got around a lot.”

  She seethed at him. “I am not a bunny!”

  “No, as of today, you’re the fourth driver on our team.”

  “Team? Clint, this is not a fucking team. It’s a loose assemblage of complete douchebags! Drug runs? For an MC? Are you insane? What the fuck is going through your head?! They nearly killed you today! Maybe I should have let them.”

  Clint rolled his eyes at her. “It wasn’t like that.”

  Ava’s jaw tightened so hard she was giving herself a headache. “Look in a fucking mirror, Clint,” she bit out. “There’s blood on your shirt.”

  Clint rolled his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. They’re just testing us. To make sure we’re hard enough.” He glanced at the others and they nodded in agreement.

  “Hard enough?” she asked, incredulous. “Hard enough for what, Clint? To be a drug mule? That’s crazy.”

  “Hell no!” Clint cried, bristling. “This is just how it starts, Ava, how you get in. Like I said, they’re just testing us. We pay our dues and in a few months, they’ll patch us in.”

  Ava shook her head, staring at him. She could barely process what he was saying. She took a deep, steadying breath and swallowed hard. She was wrong, apparently. Clint wasn’t a mule. He was a complete jackass. “Clint,” she said as calmly as she could, “I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but have you ever seen a Buzzard on anything but a Harley?”

  Clint frowned at her. He hesitated, but only for a second, then shrugged. “So? With all the money we’ll be making, we’ll each get a Harley.”

  A laugh bubbled up from Ava’s chest. She couldn’t help herself. She could more easily see Clint on a tricycle than on a Harley like Jonah’s. His scrawny ass probably wouldn’t be able to keep it upright. And the other two weren’t much better. Now that Ava had seen them with their helmets off, neither of them seemed to be particularly bright. It probably hadn’t been too difficult for Clint to convince them of this bullshit.

  “You will never be Buzzards,” she told them.

  Clint snorted again. “Well, you won’t. That’s for sure. They don’t patch in bitches,” he told her gleefully. “You can keep driving for us, though. You can even keep some of the money. Once you’ve earned back what you stole from me first.”

  “She can be your bitch,” said The Wolf. He sneered at her.

  “She can be our bitch,” Clint declared. “MCs share everything, right?”

  The third asshole laughed like a hyena. “Damn right.”

  Ava pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She wasn’t the least bit threatened by them, not the way she’d been when she was nose to nose with Hook. That was one scary sonofabitch. These were just amateurs who’d watched too much cable TV.

  She shook her head at them. “Whatever. If you want to get yourselves killed, that’s your business. But I’m out. I’m not doing this. There’s no way.” She turned to head back outside.

  Clint grabbed her by her hair and dragged her backward. One arm locked around her belly and he held her up against them.

  As the tension in the space ratcheted up, the other two moved closer.

  “There is no out, Ava,” Clint growled in her ear. “They know where you live and I do, too. I also know where that wetback you’ve been spreading for lives. We’ll pay him a visit. He’ll be the one in pieces.”

  Ava didn’t struggle. With three of them, there wasn’t much she could do. She could take out Clint, but not before the other two got to her. And no matter the outcome, Emilio would be the next target of Clint’s wrath. Emilio might have better luck with these odds, unless Clint showed up with a few Buzzards in tow.

  Clint had never struck her as stupid but he did suffer from an overabundance of cockiness. His parents’ money had greased the wheels for Clint to get pretty much whatever he wanted and he’d gotten used to it.

  “If you want money, Clint, just ask Mommy and Daddy.”

  Clint didn’t respond, but he let go of her hair and pushed her away. She slammed into the worktable against the wall.

  The other two backed away. Both looked disappointed.

  “They cut me off,” Clint muttered darkly.

  Ava ran a hand through her hair, massaging her throbbing scalp. “You mean you graduated and now they want you to get a fucking job. Jesus Christ, Clint, you’re that lazy?”

  Clint glared at her. “I don’t take orders from them anymore! I’m a goddamn adult.”

>   She snorted. “So, you’re going to take orders from the Buzzards instead? They’re going to put you on a leash, like a dog.”

  Clint shrugged. “I’ll get more booze, drugs, and pussy with them.”

  “We’ll get more,” The Wolf interjected.

  “Yeah, we’ll get more,” Clint amended as an afterthought. “We’re going to be Buzzards.”

  As Ava searched Clint’s face, she wondered if the Buzzards had actually told them this or if Clint had just imagined that wearing a cut would be the natural result of going to work for the club. It was never going to happen, but there didn’t seem to be a way to convince him, or any of them.

  “I don’t know who the bigger idiot is,” Ava finally replied. “You... or me for not seeing it. You’re going to get yourself killed. Probably them, too,” she said, waving at the Tweedles. What she didn’t say was that Clint and his ridiculous idea just might get her killed, too. Or raped. Or cut up. Or squashed like a bug between two large trucks.

  There were a hundred ways this could all go sideways. Hell, maybe thousands. And, Ava was certain, there were ways she couldn’t even imagine yet. She could see it was useless to argue about it, though. Clint was convinced, and somehow he’d managed to spread the delusion to the other two.

  She sighed and turned away from them, toward the door. “This is fucking crazy,” she muttered to herself.

  Clint came up behind her again and grabbed her arm. She tightened her grip on her helmet and seriously considered swinging this time. “You’re in this now,” he growled into her ear. “You’re with me. You’re mine now.”

  She jerked away from him and made for the door. “I am not with you!” she shouted over her shoulder. “And if you touch me again, I’ll cut pieces off you!”

  For a moment, Clint looked as though he would argue the point, but he seemed to think better of it. “Keep fucking your spic boyfriend,” he finally told her. “I don’t give a shit. You just answer your fucking phone when I call you! And I will be calling, Ava!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ava had already called everyone in her family, making up stupid excuses for doing so, just to check on them, really. Everyone had seemed fine—happy, even. But she didn’t have Emilio’s cell number, and so she’d driven straight to the garage instead.