Kings of Asphalt

by Alexx Andria

  “What you want?”

  “I'm sorry to bother you but I wondered if I might ask if you know Jax Traeger and Hunter Ericksen? This house was listed as their address when they turned 18 and I just wondered if you knew them.”

  The woman stared, sizing her up. “Are you a cop?”

  Zoe shook her head. “Just a friend.”

  The woman shook her head, disbelieving. “Those two ain't got no friends. Now get off my porch.” She went to slam the door but Zoe stuck her foot between the door and the jamb seconds before it slammed shut. Zoe yelped as pain rippled up her foot and the mean-faced woman took the opportunity to shove Zoe’s foot clear and then slammed the door again. Wow, friendly folk around here. Ouch, that was brilliant. And the award for stupid goes to Zoe Delacourte. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting but she surely hadn't expected to be assaulted by the grizzled old woman. Egad, was that Jax or Hunter's mother? Scary thought. Something told Zoe that vicious shrew didn't spend all day baking cookies.

  She started to return to her car, irritated with herself for thinking it would be as easy as walking up to an old address and finding all the answers when she found a woman leaning on her car watching her, with a small smirk.

  “You asking questions about Jax or Hunter?”

  “Why? Did you know them when they lived here as kids?”

  “I knew them good enough. They was foster brothers here together. That’s how they got their start running together. What you want to know?”

  Good question. “I just wanted to know what they were like as kids. I'm trying to get a picture of who they were before they became who they are now.” She paused and then extended her hand in a show of friendship. “My name’s Zoe…what’s yours?”

  The woman ignored Zoe’s outstretched hand, demanding, “What's in it for me if I give you a little info on the bad boys?”

  “Oh, um, we could go to that little coffee shop I saw around the corner and get something to eat, maybe a hamburger or something,” she suggested, eyeing the woman and trying not to judge though it look like she hadn't had a good meal in days. Or months. When the woman’s expression flattened with disinterest and looked ready to walk, Zoe threw in, “I have $20 I can give you.”

  The woman stuck out her hand and Zoe pulled the money from her back pocket to put it in the woman’s greedy palm. Hopefully, her hard-earned cash wasn’t being wasted. “Okay, so tell me what you know about them and how you know them.”

  “Not here,” she said going around to get into the passenger side of her car. “I know place where we can talk.”

  Oh, okay. Now she was a taxi? Well, if the woman was willing to share information Zoe supposed it was okay to drive her wherever she needed to go.

  “Go to that stoplight and take a right,” the woman instructed, climbing into the passenger side, “and then pull off the road into the parking lot. Don’t need a bunch of eyes staring at us while we do our business.”

  Eww. That sounded all sorts of wrong. Ignoring her misgivings, Zoe did as she was told and then put the car in park, turning to her to ask, “Okay, first off, what’s your name?”

  “Name’s Paula…” She paused then cocked her head to the side and said, “Let me guess you're the newest girl they’re screwing? Are you a club whore or something?”

  The fact that Paula dropped the word whore so easily made Zoe want to cringe. “No, I'm not a prostitute,” she answered stiffly. “I'm just a friend and I'm looking into something that might affect them.”

  “They don't need no bodyguard. They can take care of themselves. Word to the wise steer clear of them, they’re bad news.”

  “Yeah, I'm sure they've led their fair share of ladies down a dark path but I think I'm different,” she said, wincing as the words left her mouth. How many women said that? And how many women stupidly thought that they were the ones who could change a man? Zoe shook her head and clarified her statement. “I'm not trying to change them. I'm not trying to be anything to them, I just want to try to understand why they are the way they are. I mean, they weren't always involved with The Kings, right?”

  “The less you know, the better off you'll be. Here's the deal; girls like you don't have no business messing with Jax or Hunter. You don't know how to handle what they got. And even more so than that, you don't know how to handle the heartbreak when they walk out on you because they will. They don't stay with no one.”

  “Speaking from experience?” Zoe couldn't help but ask. “Did you date one of them?”

  “Nobody dates them. If you're lucky you get a few nights in their bed before they toss you out and replace you with someone else. That's the way they operate. And the way they always have. Dumb girls like you get it in their head that they got a heart of gold but it's all a lie Those boys ain't got a heart of gold and they don't need saving. So, go one back to whatever cush life that you live and forget that you ever saw those two boys.”

  Zoe stared the woman, her cheeks burning. What was she doing? Poking around into the back story of complete strangers and for what? She was incredibly naïve to think that she’d been different or special. Chances were after she’d left, Jax and Hunter had screwed girls into the night. She blinked back unexpected tears but held them back, refusing to let Paula see the raw nerve she’d poked. Paula was right maybe she had been hoping to save them in some way. But what if they didn't want saving? Was she going to chase after them like some sad, sorry sap who didn’t have the sense to know when the guy couldn't care less about her? Hell no. That was the old Zoe. The new Zoe didn't let anyone push her around like that. No matter how hot and sexy they were. She had to get back on track. William Simms’ murder was what’d started her on this chase in the first place and that’s where the real glory remained. Refocusing, she looked to Paula and said, “Look, here’s the real deal. I could care less about Jax and Hunter. I'm here for information between the two rival motorcycle gangs. Word on the street is there’s a turf war. A few weeks ago a man was murdered who was one of The Kings and a few weeks before that, a woman was killed from the Road Dog crew. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that more bloodshed is coming but why? The truth is, I'm a reporter. And I want to write the story — the true story about the turf war between the Kings and the Road Dogs.”

  “A reporter?” Paula shook her head as if confirming her suspicions. “People asking questions end up dead. Do yourself a favor and forget about this story. There’s nothing but bad times waiting for you at the end of that information.”

  Zoe ignored Paula’s dire prediction because it seemed everyone was a broken record when it came to this topic and by now she was becoming desensitized to the potential threat in the message. She pressed on stubbornly. “The question I have is why would the Road Dogs have Simms killed? Was it a retaliatory hit against The Kings for Juanita Sanchez? Before these two murders, things have been pretty quiet between the two gangs. Both living in their respective territories with minimal scuffles. And then all of a sudden, BAM, this woman and guy end up dead. What’s going on out there?”

  “You really want to know what's going down in this place? Same fucking shit, different day,” Paula snorted, casting an annoyed look Zoe’s way. “Why don’t you go ask someone with the Road Dogs what’s going down? But before you do, let me tell you what you’re walking into —they're a bunch of mean sons of bitches who don't care about no one. They dope kids up to get them hooked as young as ten years old because they know that mommy and daddy are already hooked as well. Might as well get the family discount. At least The Kings, they keep their shit clean.”

  “The Kings are moving drugs on the streets?” she asked, her heart sinking. Why did she think Jax and Hunter would be above that stuff? Naïve girl strikes again. “Okay, so what are they fighting over?”

  “Listen, I've already giving you more than $20 worth of info. The questions you're asking — they ain’t worth dying for. Go pester the Road Dogs if you want to know why they're killing people. But do yourself a favor,
stop asking questions and just go home before the next body in the morgue ends up being yours.”

  Before Zoe could say anything, Paula exited the vehicle and was already walking quickly away from her. Great, that went well. She was $20 lighter in the pocketbook and she had virtually nothing in the way of usable leads. Aside from the realization that Jax and Hunter had grown up in a shit hole and were generally thought of as assholes, she had nothing to go on. Well, this was a wasted trip. Sighing, she pulled back onto the road and backtracked her way to the freeway. Then she groaned, realizing she'd completely forgotten to write her latest assignment. McMurphy was going to freak out when he realized she'd screwed up again. Maybe if she got to the office before layout began, she could slip the article in at the 11th hour. Never in her life had she forgotten any

  assignment. Seems being bad was contagious.

  Jax, Hunter and Dimas were deep in discussion about the latest situation brewing between The Dogs and The Kings when one of the club girls they trusted sauntered into the back room with a sweet smile on her face. “I got some info you might like to know,” she told them, tossing back purple-tipped, dyed-red curls, looking giddy with something to share. Dimas patted his lap and she promptly put her little ass on it like a good girl.

  “Yeah? Whatcha got, Cricket?” Dimas said, giving her tiny nipple a pinch

  through the thin crop top showing off her middle. “What kind of trouble have you been stirring up?”

  “It’s about that girl that was here last night. I got the 411 on her,” she said, giggling and wiggling on Dimas’ lap when his fingers stroked her tight snatch. Jax exchanged a look with Hunter, irritated that Dimas had sent Cricket nosing around when they’d plainly told him to forget Zoe had ever been to the club but since Cricket had

  already done the fieldwork, he was curious to know what she’d dredged up. “You know that cop friend of mine? The one who has a thing for bad girls with tattoos? Yeah, that one…he said she’s a reporter over at the Courier and she’s been nosing around, asking questions about The Kings and The Dogs, getting people all riled up.”

  “Riled up how?” Hunter asked. “Well, she went down to your old neighborhood and went asking questions,

  saying she’s gonna write the real story between the turf war going on. Seems she slipped Paula D’Anne some cash and the little crackwhore sang like a dirty canary.” The nosey little shit. He told expressly told her to stop poking around and what did she do? The exact opposite.

  Dimas looked to Jax and Hunter immediately called them on the carpet. “So this is the girl you were fucking with the other night? A reporter? Have you lost your damn mind? That’s the last thing we need…a reporter sticking her nose where it don’t belong.”

  “I said not to concern yourself with our visitor. We’ve got it under control. You just worry about what Bronx is doing. He’s starting to creep up on our borders and I wouldn’t put it past him to try and fuck with the delivery that’s coming next week. I want extra men on the warehouse, got it?”

  Dimas nodded. “Yeah, sure, but what are we going to do about Simms’ murder? People are starting to talk, man. You gotta do something about it. The Dogs, they got it coming, you know that.”

  “Where does it stop?” Hunter asked, irritated. “We kill one of theirs, they kill one of ours? It’s a fucking circle that never ends. We start bringing the heat down on us for that retribution shit, we’re going to end up spending most of our time dodging cops instead of doing business. You feeling me?”

  “Simms was our boy,” Dimas insisted, shifting Cricket off his lap. She realized the growing tension in the room and went to leave but Dimas barked at her to stay. “Don’t go nowhere. I want to know more about this reporter bitch.” Then to Jax he said, “Simms was a piece of shit on his best day but he was still a King and he deserves vengeance. You don’t deliver and people are gonna start wondering if you two are the right fit to keep leading The Kings.”

  “Fuck that,” Jax said sourly, just as irritated. “You want a bloodbath in the streets? Will that satisfying everyone’s lust for revenge over something we don’t even know what it was about? I don’t know jack shit about why Simms got shot in the head but I’m sure as hell ain’t gonna put this club and everything we’ve worked for on the line without any facts to support the action. You feeling me?” “Yeah, yeah, calm down, Jax. I’m on your side, man.” “Yeah? Sure doesn’t feel like it,” Jax shot back. “I told you to lay off the girl and

  you sent Cricket out after the information. What the hell is wrong with you? Last time I checked, you weren’t the boss of this organization and I don’t like being ignored when I give a direct order.”

  Dimas shrugged, caught but not the least bit sorry. “Listen man, I have mad love for ya but if you’re not thinking straight, I got to think for you. This girl…she’s bad news. A reporter splashing our business all over the front page of the Courier is the last thing we need to deal with. We got real problems, you know? And I got the club to think of if you’re not. There’s a shit-ton of money on the line with that shipment, money that’ll set us up for life, man. Nothing’s gonna get in the way of my pay-day. Not even my friendship with you.”

  “That’s how you feel?” Jax asked in a hard tone. Dimas nodded, standing his ground. Well, fucccccck. “Fine. I’ll take care of the girl. You keep the shipment free and clear.”

  “I can do that,” Dimas said, nodding. “How you gonna shut up the girl?”

  “Hey, let us worry about the girl,” Hunter interjected sharply. “You just do as Jax said. We’ll do the rest.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Dimas returned, smiling as he rose. Immediately Cricket scampered to his side and his beefy, tattooed arm went around her tiny frame. He glanced down at his girl and said, “Let’s go find someplace private, darling’. You done earned yourself a little treat.”

  A few moments later the roar of Dimas’ Harley rumbled down the road and he was gone, no doubt to Dimas’ dinky single-wide trailer so he could bang the shit out of Cricket before he turned her loose for the night. Jax swore and snapped a beer cap out of his hands, watching as it bounced and skidded along the cement floor.

  “We have to talk to Zoe,” Hunter said with a short, irritated exhale of breath. “Damn girl, why didn’t she just leave well enough alone?”

  “Because she has a nose for news and she’s out to prove herself,” Jax answered with a grim smirk. “Don’t you remember being hungry for validation? She’s no different.”

  “Yeah, well, her hunger is going to get her killed. What are we going to do? You know if we don’t handle this, Dimas will find a way to shut her up and then we’ll be forced to put Dimas in the ground.”

  “You think it would come to that?”

  “Dimas wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her,” Hunter said flatly and Jax realized Hunter was right. They’d known Dimas for years, even called him a friend, but they didn’t think for a moment that Dimas wouldn’t do what needed to be done in order to protect his cash flow. “Shit…fucker would enjoy it, too.” He shared a look with Hunter, then said, “All right. Let’s go pay a visit to our little nosey girl and set her straight.”

  “And how exactly are we going to do that?”

  “I have no fucking clue. Guess we’ll just have to wing it.”

  “Great plan,” Hunter muttered as they stalked from the bar. “Great fucking plan.”

  #

  Zoe was supposed to be going over police files and making notes but her thoughts weren’t cooperating. Unfortunately, her brain seemed far more interested in reliving her one night with Hunter and Jax. To be fair, it was probably the most amazing sexual adventure she would ever have in her life so it was only natural to dwell a little, right? She leaned back in her chair and tossed her pencil to the table with a sigh. Her apartment, exactly what she could afford, was neat and tidy — and as boring as her sex life had been previously. Everything matched. Everything had a place. She was tired of everything being in its place. Wasn’t tha
t what’d happened to her? She’d been the bookworm, the girl with her nose always in a book so it’d been perfectly acceptable for her to get an English degree and later a job in journalism when the thought of getting her teaching credentials had given her hives. And when she’d originally applied for the city beat, Mr. McMurphy had taken one look at her and laughed saying she’d be eaten alive on that beat and instead had given her the features position. A fluff position. The most controversial topic she’d been able to pass by McMurphy’s desk had been a tongue-in-cheek column about modern dating rituals — completely sanitized, of course; Courier readers weren’t looking for Cosmopolitan-esque reads — and after that it’d been a succession of vanilla stories that bored Zoe to tears. She wanted drama. Danger! She wanted —

  A loud knock at her front door stopped her inner tirade. Frowning because she rarely had visitors, she went to the door and peeped through the peephole. Egad! She clapped her hand over her mouth but not before a tiny squeak had escaped. They were here! Jax and Hunter! How’d they find her? What should she do? Casually open the door with a big smile as if she were welcoming old friends? Or pretend she wasn’t home and hope they went away? The coward in her begged for the latter but the part of herself that was thrilled to death that her sexual liberators were outside her front door, practically propelled her to fumble with the latch and let them in. “H-hello?” she offered as they pushed past her without offering a simple greeting. They seemed too big in her tiny apartment. Suddenly the air seemed in short supply. Biting down on her bottom lip, she glanced out her front door to make sure the hallway was empty and then hastily locked the door again, turning to face them with a shaky but unsure smile. “Can I offer you a beverage? All I have is water or juice,” she said. “Sorry…no whiskey. But if I’d known you were coming…”