Motorcycle Master_Bad Boy Angel

by Maggie Carpenter

  “When this is done I’m taking a month,” he muttered as he rose slowly to his feet. “A month with absolutely nothing to do but eat great food and have a woman at my mercy. Hopefully a woman like Kat. What am I saying? Not a woman like Kat, I want it to be Kat.”

  Across town in the large crumbling house, unable to sleep, Kat had pulled a chair on to the balcony and was sipping on vodka as she gazed out at the mesmerizing city lights that stretched into infinity. A part of her wanted to laugh out loud with sheer joy. She’d met a hunky, muscled dominant who was, underneath his gruff exterior, as sweet as an angel, but another part of her wanted to cry. What if he was involved with the distribution of the drugs for Kratos? He was the number three guy. He had to know about it. That alone made him guilty.

  “Why the hell did I jump into bed with him so fast?” she muttered, then taking another sip, as the thought tickled through her slightly inebriated brain, she knew exactly why.

  Her initial flirtation might have been her way of getting Marco’s attention, but the heat had been there from the moment he’d walked into the gang-leader’s office. Had it been the spanking that had sparked the glowing embers into the fire that had consumed them?

  “Dammit Why? Why did I have to meet him there? The last thing I need is to fall for a bad boy. What am I saying? I already have. What the hell do I do now?”

  A heavy yawn rose up through her body, and thinking she might be able to fall asleep, she rose slowly to her feet and wandered back to her bedroom, closed her curtains so the bright Southern California sun wouldn’t wake her, and crawled into bed.

  “I can’t let myself get carried away, I just can’t,” she murmured as she closed her eyes. “I have to keep an emotional distance. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to do that, but I will. Somehow I will.”

  Swept up by a second yawn, with Marco’s handsome face inside her head, she began to drift off.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kratos was sweating, and it wasn’t because of the hot Southern California sun. He was riding his bike into the hills above Hollywood towards an exclusive gated community. He’d been to the house only once, and he’d hoped he’d never have to be there again. The property itself was spectacular. It had walls of glass, polished stone columns separated the seamless living areas, gleaming white furniture filled the rooms, and chrome accents were littered everywhere. Bizarre metal sculptures sat on tall pedestals, huge paintings that boasted artfully placed blobs of splattered paint lined the walls, and black leather rugs were strewn at odd angles looking harshly dark against the gleaming white porcelain floors. The pristine cold of the home was awe-inspiring and freakishly frightening, but Kratos couldn’t care less about the bizarre interior decor. It was what he’d witnessed there that was filling him with dread.

  Many months before he had received word that HH and his associates were willing to meet with him. The message had been delivered by a famous actor, Jason Dean. Jason liked to ride with the bad boys, and he’d become chummy with the gang. Kratos had assumed Jason would introduce him to HH, they’d sit down over drinks and talk out a deal. When he’d rolled up to the glass castle, though the sight of the glitzy home had been somewhat daunting, he’d sauntered in with the swagger befitting the leader of a notorious motorcycle gang.

  An hour later he had left trembling in his heavy boots, wondering what horrors might be in his future. He’d just visited hell, and made a deal with the devil.

  When he’d arrived he’d been met by group of well-dressed, clean cut men, all of whom were wearing demon masks. It was initially unnerving, but he’d seen it as nothing but theatrics and refused to be intimidated. After placing a black hood over his head, they’d led him down a steep flight of stairs, and when they’d pulled it off, he’d found himself in a red room. Completely red. Red walls, red floors, red lights, red was everywhere, and he could hear someone sobbing. A chill had suddenly shuddered through his body, and once his eyes had adjusted he was able to see a naked man tied to a post behind a table. That’s when Kratos had felt fear. True fear. Fear that churned inside his gut and made it difficult to breathe.

  “Before we do business with anyone, we like to make sure they understand how we deal with traitors.”

  None of the men had spoken; the voice had come through speakers. Everything in Kratos had told him to get the fuck out of there, but he knew it was too late. He’d crossed a line he’d not even seen. There was no turning back. Not from these people. Not ever.

  “The man tied to the post, let’s call him John Doe, or perhaps John Dead might be more appropriate,” the voice continued. “He took something that belonged to us. Not a good idea, and now he’s going to die a most unpleasant death.”

  “Please, you don’t have to kill me,” the man shrilled. “I’ll do anything. Please.”

  “Kratos, do you see that wooden box on the table?” the voice continued.

  “Uh, yeah, with the hole in the end?”

  “There is only one box,” the voice said sarcastically, “but yes, with the hole. Lift the top and look inside.”

  Barely able to control his quaking fear, Kratos had walked across to the table, and with the terrified man crying and squirming in front of him, Kratos had slowly lifted the lid; letting out a cry of shock he’d staggered backwards. The lid had a spring hinge and had snapped down, and though petrified, Kratos had summoned his courage and spun around to challenge the men in the masks.

  “What the fuck?”

  “You’ve not seen a rat before?” the voice in the air asked. “It is an excellent specimen don’t you think? Huge, yes, and ravenous.”

  The man tied to the pole had let out a howling screech, and as Kratos had looked at the hole in the box, then the naked man, he’d realized what HH and his men were planning. He’d felt the need to vomit, but had somehow managed to swallow it back.

  “Ah, yes, Mr. Dead, you now understand the manner of your excruciating death. Kratos, you must witness how we deal with those who dare to betray us. It’s called an ounce of prevention. You should also know I asked John Dead to tell us who put him up to the thievery but he refused, hence, the rat. Had he cooperated we’d have simply shot him. Bad choices, bad consequences.”

  “It was Amos,” the man screamed. “Amos. He’s in debt to the Aldo brothers. He needed the money. I’m sorry, I swear, I’ll do anything.”

  “Mr. Dead, we told you upstairs you had only one chance to answer our questions and you claimed you didn’t know anything. However, since you have now given us the information, we’ll let Ronny the rat feast on your cock for only a short time. I was going to let him devour you for at least an hour. Go ahead boys.”

  Filled with horror, Kratos had watched one of the masked torturers push the guilty man’s penis through the hole. The screams that reverberated through the red room had continued to echo through Kratos’s head for months, and the horrendously gruesome scene had left him paranoid beyond all reason.

  Now a delivery had disappeared, and he’d been summoned.

  The elite community sat behind tall iron gates with a guard shack monitoring all who entered, and as Kratos spoke to the guard through an intercom, he saw the overhead cameras studying him. The gates swung open, and he followed the road past the immaculately landscaped gardens and magnificent homes to the cul-de-sac at the very end. The grisly experience had convinced him that he needed to extricate himself from the clutches of the HH organization, the question was, how? He’d often thought of simply calling the police and telling them about the house, but it was entirely possibly HH had people inside the force who would give HH a heads-up, then track down the caller. It was a risk Kratos wasn’t prepared to take.

  The house had no neighbors on either side, and was surrounded by what appeared to be a tropical forest. With the constant water shortage in Southern California, Kratos wondered how they had managed to create such profuse vegetation, but the Kings had made decent money from the drugs HH supplied, and they were a small distributor. Kratos cou
ld only imagine the huge sums HH and his organization were raking in. As he drew closer he noticed the motor court was packed with expensive cars. He spied several Rolls Royce’s, Mercedes sports coupes, a few limousines, a Ferrari and a couple of Maserati’s.

  Heart thumping, he switched off his bike, removed his helmet, dropped his gloves inside it, and looped it on to the handle bars. Striding up the path he could hear rock music, and as the front door opened, fully expecting to be met by the men in the demon masks, he was shocked to walk in and find the house filled with beautiful girls in skimpy dresses, attractive young guys, and older, immaculately groomed gray-haired men. He’d walked into a party.

  “Hi, Kratos.”

  Turning around he saw Jason Dean approaching him with a happy smile. What the hell was going on?

  “Hi, Jason. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  Kratos didn’t trust the festive scene. Were they going to torture him in front of the crowd? No, surely not.

  “What is this?” he asked as Jason shook his hand.

  “A party, what do you think it is?”

  “I wasn’t expecting—I mean—did I get the day wrong?”

  “No, you didn’t get the day wrong. What do you want to drink?”

  “Drink? Uh, bourbon.”

  “Sure, follow me.”

  Head reeling, Kratos walked with Jason through the throng of merry people towards one of several bars, and as Jason ordered his drink, Kratos tried to make sense of what was happening. Was Jason working for them, or was he just a party guest sent to welcome him? Did he have any idea that HH and his team were evil barbarians?

  “Here you go,” Jason grinned, handing him a heavy crystal tumbler. “You look a bit shell-shocked.”

  “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting to walk into a party,” he replied, taking a gulp and hoping it would settle his nerves.

  “You see anyone you know?”

  “Should I?”

  “Take a look.”

  As his eyes scanned the room, a sick feeling began through the pit of his stomach. Who was he supposed to find?

  Then he saw her.

  His heart leapt in his chest!

  Nancy! The love of his life!

  The only person he’d ever truly, deeply madly cared about!

  Trying to control his panic he turned his shocked eyes back to the actor.

  “I invited her,” Jason said casually. “She must have told you we constantly run into each other at the coffee shop by the beach.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Kratos stammered, “when she goes surfing.”

  “She didn’t tell you about the party today?”

  “Cut the crap,” Kratos growled. “Obviously, but I can guess why. You told her not to.”

  “She thought it would be a lovely surprise, a party like this in the hills, but none of this was my idea. I’m just the messenger.”

  Kratos took another long swallow of his drink as he stared across the room at his precious woman.

  “What’s the message?”

  “You see all the suave, mature men here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How many would you say? A dozen or so?”

  “What about ‘em?”

  “They’re all members of the more-money-than-God club.”

  Jason paused. Kratos knew it was for affect, but that didn’t stop him fixing the actor with an icy glare.

  “Tell me!”

  “Kratos,” Jason said patiently, “you must control yourself. I’m about to tell you something you won’t like, and if you do something stupid…”

  Downing the last of the bourbon, he placed the tumbler on the bar, took a breath, and steeled himself.

  “Okay, go ahead. I’m cool.”

  Grabbing his upper arm, Jason began moving Kratos away from the bar.

  “If you don’t tell the absolute, one-thousand percent truth,” Jason murmured, lowing his voice as they walked, “Nancy will be sold to the highest bidder, and I don’t just mean for a night.”

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Kratos snarled. “That’s—”

  “That’s the message,” Jason said sharply, cutting him off. “Now you need to come with me, and remember, Nancy is having a great time. Answer the questions honestly and she’ll continue to have a great time. If you don’t, she’ll disappear—forever. Do you understand?”

  Kratos couldn’t speak. His throat had frozen, and trying desperately to control the rage boiling through his body, all he could do was nod his head. Jason’s fingers were tight around his arm, and as the actor led him through a door, Kratos was worried his knees would buckle. All he could think about was Nancy. His precious Nancy.

  “Just tell the truth and everything will be fine,” Jason declared, then releasing him, he moved quickly from the room .

  The door closed with a bang, shutting out the noise of the party, and Kratos realized he was in a library. He knew he was being watched, and he waited, sucking in the air, trying to calm the terror moving through every part of him. Finally a voice filled the empty space.

  “Take off your jacket and sit in the chair at the table in front of the machine.”

  Not surprisingly the voice had come from an unseen source, and fighting his fear, Kratos glanced around, spotting a machine on a table in a corner. As he neared he saw it was one with which he was very familiar; it was a polygraph.

  “A gentleman will be joining you to run the test,” the voice proclaimed. “Remember, if you do not cooperate you’ll never see Nancy again. Tell us the truth and you will both leave unharmed, and we can continue our very lucrative business arrangement. Are we clear?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Take your seat.”

  Grateful he’d downed the bourbon, wishing he could have another, he paused.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “Any chance of another drink? I’m not exactly calm. I don’t wanna fuck up.”

  “Go to the cabinet against the wall on your right.”

  Turning his head Kratos saw the stunning antique. It looked like something from a centuries-old palace, and taking long deep breaths, he walked across the room, opened it up, and found a bottle of expensive bourbon. He took his time, drinking the alcohol slowly, focusing on its soothing qualities as he did, then leaving a last swallow at the bottom of the glass he carried it with him as he walked back. Sitting down he placed it on the table, and a moment later a casually-dressed man entered. As he placed the various cables on his body and fingertips, Kratos didn’t look at him, but sat completely still, his eyes on the floor.

  “Answer all questions yes or no,” the man said as he sat down, his voice monotone. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is your name Kratos?”

  “No.”

  The man looked up, and though he could feel the operator’s eyes on him. Kratos didn’t shift his gaze.

  “Tell me your name.”

  “Kirk Thurston.”

  “Ah. Is Kratos what people call you.”

  “Uh…”

  “Is Kratos what some people call you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Kirk also what some people call you.”

  “Yes.”

  The man asked him several more mundane questions, then started with the ones that mattered.

  “A delivery of important merchandise was left at a storage facility on Fifth and Broad. Are you aware that it has gone missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have taken it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure this person took it?”

  “No.”

  “You are guessing this person took it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you strongly believe this person took it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us the name of the person you believe took it.”

  It wasn’t the operator asking the
question, it was the voice of the invisible man. Kratos remained motionless.

  “Dennis Goddard.”

  There were moments of utter quiet, then the operator rose from behind the table, removed the cables from Kratos’s body, and walked away. Kratos heard a door softly close, and reaching for his glass he downed the last of his bourbon. The unbearable minutes ticked by. Kratos focused on his breathing. He was sure he’d passed, then he wasn’t, then he was…

  “Thank you, Kratos. I’m sure that wasn’t easy and we appreciate your cooperation,” the voice suddenly declared. “Your loyalty must be rewarded. Reach down the right side of your seat cushion. You’ll find an envelope. It contains one-hundred thousand dollars. You and Nancy may leave, or stay if you wish and enjoy the party. We’ll be in touch regarding the next delivery.”

  Staring down, Kratos could see the edge of the envelope, and pushing his fingers into the tight space he pulled it out. It was fat. Briefly closing his eyes he said a quick prayer of thanks, then grabbing his jacket he stuffed the payment into one of the zippered pockets. He took a minute to steady his nerves, then with a measured step he left the room.

  Returning to the party was surreal. It was boisterous, the music was blaring, and frantically searching the crowd he finally saw Nancy at the buffet table. Forcing his best smile he hurried across to join her, and as she saw him approach she rolled her eyes.

  “Where have you been? Jason told me you were on your way, and that was ages ago.”

  “Sorry hon. Listen, we need to go.”

  Though the smile stayed frozen on his face, his eyes flashed down at her. She knew the look and slowly nodded.

  “How did you get here?”

  “Jason picked me up, in a limo no less.”

  “Do you have everything?”

  “Yeah, assuming my helmet is still attached to the back of your bike.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Clutching her hand he led her outside, and donning their helmets they climbed on board. Had he pulled it off? He believed he had. They were safe, at least for the moment.