Motorcycle Master_Bad Boy Angel

by Maggie Carpenter

  When she heard the sound of her front door, she was sure she’d only been drifting for a few minutes. Had she slept that deeply? Groggily opening her eyes she waited for him to enter her bedroom, and when he didn’t materialize, she sat up, blew her nose, then slipped from the bed and wandered out into the living room.

  “Well, well, it’s my lucky night. I was beginning to think you’d slipped away without my man noticing. Hello, Kat.”

  “Jason? What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  “That’s not a very nice welcome. You’ll have to do much better than that!”

  The raid on the mansion was in full swing. The gun-toting agents had burst through the doors and quickly taken control. The guests were being questioned one-by-one, drugs were being uncovered in small rooms around the house, and the laboratory under the guest house had been discovered, but Steve was having no luck finding the infamous chamber of horrors.

  Oblivious to the commotion in the house, Curtis was in the middle of his grisly chore. He had two dismembered bodies stuffed into six trash bags, but there had been so much blood he’d run out of supplies. He was only allowed to use a specially-made cleaning solution to sterilize the room, and he had none left. He’d also used up the many towels and sponges he’d brought with him. The rubber suit covering his clothes was splattered in blood, but taking it off and putting it back on was nightmare, and the thick gloves were literally dripping. He grunted and cursed. He had to finish, and he could only do that if he returned to the supply closet behind the kitchen.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” he grumbled as he walked to the stairs. “I’m going to be here all fucking night.”

  By the time he’d peeled off the ungainly overalls he was sweating from the effort, and gazing at his hands he could see the removal of the suit and gloves had left blood all over his hands. With nothing to wipe them on except his clean clothes, he tried rubbing them against the vinyl covered walls, but that only succeeded in spreading the mess further.

  “Fuck it. I’ll wash them in the powder room,” he grunted. “No-one will even notice me.”

  Standing next to the curved staircase, Steve was on his cell phone. Marco had called in to report on the successful raid of the hooker hostel. The two beefy bodyguards had dropped their weapons and given up without a fight, and the girls were relieved and grateful. Most of them had been there against their will and had been living in terror.

  “What about you?” Marco asked urgently. “What about HH? Did you find him? Did you find the lab?”

  “The lab, yep, it was in the basement of the guest house, but there was no-one there. We also found a communications room behind the library, a helluva setup. The tech boys are still scratching their heads.”

  “But what about HH?”

  “As you know we don’t have a description of him, and it’s going to take some time to sort out who everyone is. There are a bunch of people already demanding to talk to their lawyers and threatening to sue. It’s amazing who’s here, Marco. You’d be shocked.”

  “I don’t care about them, I want to find HH. What about the torture room?”

  “Haven’t found that yet…wait…the wall behind me is literally opening up.”

  “The wall behind you? What do you mean, opening up?”

  “The stairs. The solid wall under the stairs, there’s a door. Holy shit. Hey, you, don’t move.”

  “Steve? What’s going on?”

  “I’m staring at a guy with blood all over his hands. I’ll call you back.”

  “Yeah, do that. Johnny and his guys are still cleaning up here, but I’m going home to Kat.”

  Ending the call, Steve studied the shocked face of the man who was being read his rights and cuffed.

  “What’s your name?” Steve asked gruffly.

  “Curtis Jones.”

  “Hello, Curtis, I’m Special Agent Cartwright. The drug trafficking, and all the other shit that goes on in this house, it’s over, and everyone involved is going down. You can go down hard, or you can help us. You’ve got five seconds to make up your mind. One—two—”

  “Yeah, no sweat, no sweat. Make me a deal and I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.”

  “What’s down there?”

  “Uh, that’s the Red Room, and I don’t mean cos there’s blood everywhere, though there usually is. That’s just what it’s called.”

  “Blood?”

  “At the moment, lots of it, and you’ll find body parts in bags, but I didn’t kill anyone. I’ve never killed anyone. That’s all HH and his gang, and that’s the room where they shoot them, and also where they make people spill their guts…sorry, bad choice of words.”

  “Where’s HH?”

  “I dunno.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “I have no idea, I swear, no idea. No-one ever sees him. He talks through the walls.”

  “Get him outta here,” Steve said, frustrated and worried that the infamous HH was going to be much harder to find than he’d thought, “and tape off that entrance. I’ll get a forensics unit down there.”

  Standing in the frame of her bedroom door, Kat was trying to clear her muddled head. She was looking at Jason Dean! How was that possible? Was she hallucinating? Over the counter cold remedies didn’t make you hallucinate, did they? Rubbing her hands over her face she looked again. It was definitely Jason Dean standing just a few feet in front of the sliding glass doors

  “I asked you a question in the tavern yesterday,” he said, slowly walking towards her. “Do you remember?”

  “What?”

  “In the tavern at the memorial. I asked you why I wasn’t sleeping with you.”

  “Jason, you have no business being here,” she said tersely, then coughed several times. “You need to leave.”

  “I’ll be leaving very soon and you’ll be coming with me, but back to the question.”

  “Piss off. I’m sick, or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “Sick? What a shame. Don’t worry. You won’t stay sick for very long.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll be dead.”

  Abruptly Kat was wide awake. Though her throat hurt and she achy, her mind was sharp and clear. She was in trouble, but she’d been presented with an extraordinary opportunity. Obviously he had no idea the glass mansion and the hooker hostel were swarming with DEA and FBI agents. If she could keep him talking she might be able to get some information out of him, and hopefully Marco would return. She had to stay completely calm, and she had to control the conversation. Though she was sick, she was sure she could do it. Controlling conversations was one skill at which she excelled.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he demanded, then started laughing at his joke. “Cat got your tongue, get it?”

  “That’s not funny, and if you’re here to rape me go ahead,” she muttered, moving to the couch and flopping down. “I’m too sick and doped up on cold remedies to care. I’m on birth control so I won’t get pregnant, and there are condoms in the drawer by the bedside, which you might want to use because I’ve got genital warts.”

  “Such a smart ass.”

  “Fuck me unprotected at your peril, I don’t give a shit. Like I said, I’m drugged up, but that’s probably the only way you get laid, right? Getting girls wasted? Wait! What am I saying? You’re a famous actor so you probably get all the pussy you want. A different story than when you were nerdy Ernie Williams, right? I’ll bet Ernie never got any. I’ll bet Ernie was a pimply, geeky loser.”

  She’d studied him as she’d spoken. At the first mention of Ernie Williams, she had seen alarm in his eyes, and her churlish comments had made him cringe.

  “You’ve got me confused with—”

  “With nobody,” she spat, cutting him off. “Ernie Williams, child prodigy and pharmacist extraordinaire, but then you handed a ton of money to some Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. That must have been challenging for the good doctor, and ouch, so much work!”

&nb
sp; “Who the hell are you?” he growled. “There’s no fuckin’ way you could have found that out. I paid a fuckin’ fortune to have Ernie buried.”

  “Nothing can be completely erased. Don’t you know that? Huh, some genius you are.”

  “Oh, baby, I was gonna have some fun with you, but now I think I’ll just kill you and let Marco find your body. You know what? I’ve never fucked a dead bitch. Maybe I’ll make you my first.”

  “Marco won’t find me,” she replied without batting an eye. “We just had a huge fight. He won’t be back.”

  “Wow, you really are stupid. Thanks for that. Now I can play with you all night.”

  “How did you know I was here? How did you get in?”

  “I watched you get your ass spanked in front of Kratos,” he sneered. “Made me wanna whip you myself, so I made it my business to find out where you live, then I had some keys made. Downstairs isn’t bad, but up here? Not good. Why the hell are you in this dump?”

  “How did you see what happened to me in the office?” she asked, wondering if he’d seen it live on the nanny cam or had watched a video.

  “I had a camera planted in the office,” he said proudly. “I knew what was going on all the time, but seeing you, oh, Kat, when Marco smacked your naked backside, that was something special. You may be a bitch, and you may be an idiot, but you’ve got a gorgeous ass.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been told that plenty of times.”

  “Before I shoot you, or maybe slice your throat,” he said with a maniacal grin, pulling a switchblade from his pocket, “I wanna know about this big empty house. I’m thinkin’ I’ll buy it. It’d be a good place to stash some girls.”

  “None of your goddamned business!”

  “Damn, you’ve got moxie. Most girls…shit…most men, would be blubberin’ and beggin’ by now.”

  “What’s with your accent? You sound like a hick, then you don’t.”

  “Vocal coaching. Sometimes I slip.”

  “You’ve come a long way,” she said slowly.

  Suddenly, a wild thought bounced through her head. Was Jason Dean HH? Should she throw it out there?

  “A long way?” he murmured. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “From geeky Ernie Williams, to Jason Dean, to HH, Hollywood drug lord. Not too shabby.”

  “Whaaaaat? How the hell…?”

  “How much have you made? Hundreds of millions? Where are you hiding all that cash. Wait, let me guess, in the tropical jungle around your house. Is that why all that landscaping is there? Makes sense. Green, right?”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “This is fun. I know who you are, but you don’t know who I am. Interesting turn of events.”

  “No! You can’t! No-one knows who I am, no-one except my team.”

  “I do, I know all three of you. Ernie, Jason, and HH! And I’ve got news for you. So do a shitload of other people. Your time is up. Now who’s the idiot?”

  “Who talked?” he shouted, striding towards her waving the knife. “You’d better tell me or I swear to God you’ll feel pain like you’ve never felt before. TELL ME!”

  “I’m happy to tell you how I found out, but it wasn’t from anyone who works for you,” she said, forcing herself to remain calm, hoping that would settle him down. The man before her was no longer a smug, condescending egomaniac. His eyes were blazing and his face was contorting in rage. “The thing is, it has to be quid pro quo. I’ll tell you how I know all about you, if you tell me what HH stands for.”

  He paused, and though he was still sporting a menacing glare, he seemed less crazed.

  “Please?” she said softly, throwing him a woeful, doe-eyed look. “If you’re going to kill me anyway, what difference does it make?”

  “You’re fuckin’ weird,” he muttered, abruptly turning away and marching back to the slider. “This city is full of fucking weirdos.”

  “Like my ass!”

  “What?” he asked, spinning around. “What does that mean?”

  “Weird. I’ve been called that a lot, like my ass. I’ve been told it’s gorgeous a lot. Remember?” She had the control back. She could feel it. She had confounded him. “Come on, Jason, tell me. What does HH stand for?”

  “Heaven and hell. That’s what drugs are. Heaven and hell.”

  “Cool. How did you come up with it?”

  “Bon Jovi. Their big hit, You Give Love A Bad Name. You know the lyric? You promise me heaven, then put me through hell. That’s what drugs do. That’s what I do. I promise people heaven, then deliver them into hell.”

  “You really are a twisted sonofabitch,” she murmured, slowly rising to her feet and walking over to him, “but I like twisted.”

  “Okay, you crazy fuckin’ cow. Who are you? How the fuck do you know about me?”

  “Me? I’m FBI, and right now your glass palace, and your house up the street, they’re both swarming with DEA and FBI agents. The only reason I’m not part of the action is because I’m sick. Beautiful view out here, don’t you think?” she asked walking past him and out on to the patio.

  She knew she was taking a huge risk, but she was running out of time. She’d told him what he’d been desperate to know, and she could feel her sex appeal had slipped away. Her only hope was get him out on to the patio, duck back inside, and close the slider. It moved so fast she might be able to get it shut and locked, then race out the front door.

  “This is a joke, right?” he muttered as he followed her. “There’s no fuckin’ way. I’d know! I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “Apparently not. You missed all the agents leaving this house earlier. How did you let that happen? And why did you bury your bodies up at the rocks, and why the hell didn’t you wear gloves when you shot those people?”

  “Noooooooooo….!”

  “We’ve got the gun, Ernie.”

  “DON’T FUCKIN’ CALL ME THAT!”

  “Sorry, but like I said, we’ve got the gun. Your prints, or rather Ernie’s, are all over it.”

  “That’s impossible,” he muttered, then abruptly began pacing up and down the patio. “I gave that gun to Tank. He—”

  “He was supposed to dispose of it?” Kat interjected. “Oops! Nope. Kratos hid it in the seat of his desk chair.”

  “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”

  “As we stand here, your empire is tumbling. All of it, and your torture room, and your—”

  “STOP! YOU FUCKING COW, YOU CRAZY SHIT COW.”

  Kat knew too late, that she had pushed him too far, but just as he lunged towards her, Marco’s voice rang through the air.

  “DEAN! FREEZE! I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!”

  Startled, Dean spun around, but as he did he lost his balance and fell backwards against the railing. There was a terrible crunching sound, and as it gave way behind him, his arms flew up in a wild attempt to catch something. He did. Kat’s arm.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Kat let out a terrified scream, and with the speed of Superman on steroids Marco sprinted across the living room and through the open slider. Jason was teetering on the edge of the patio, barely maintaining his balance from clutching Kat’s arm, and his strength was pulling her towards him. Diving forward Marco managed to grab her around the waist just as Jason was losing his battle with gravity, and as Marco pulled her backwards, she furiously wriggled her arm to wrench it from Jason’s grasp. Feeling his grip loosening, Jason made a fatal error; he clutched the sleeve of her nightdress. It instantly ripped apart like a piece of thin paper.

  There was no saving him, and tumbling backwards he plummeted to the concrete below.

  Letting out a mortified cry Kat buried her head into Marco’s chest. He hurried her inside, slid the glass door closed, and hastily moved her back into the bedroom. He knew it took a great deal to unnerve the cool, confident Kat, but her entire body was trembling and he could understand why. When he’d dashed on to the patio, Jason had been clin
ging to her arm for dear life, and seconds later he’d been letting out an inhuman wail as he’d spilled off her deck. He would have pulled her with him, had Marco not arrived when he did.

  “Kat, Kat, it’s okay, look at me, you’re safe, it’s over.”

  Marco’s voice was controlled but intense. She wanted to answer him, but she couldn’t find her voice.

  “Listen to me, I need your keys.”

  “K-keys?” she managed, the unexpected request forcing her to think.

  “I need to lock you in and scout the house. Jason might have someone else lurking around, then I have to check on him.”

  “I…uh…”

  “I think you’re in shock,” he muttered. “Dammit, I don’t want to leave you. Get back into bed.”

  Helping her climb between the sheets he bundled the blankets around her, then pulling his phone from his pocket he called Johnny.

  “Hey, Marco, what’s—”

  “Johnny, you need to get back here now with your medics. Jason Dean fell off Kat’s patio. I walked in on him attacking her.”

  “Holy shit. Is she okay?”

  “Shaken up, and I hate to leave her but I have to scout the house. He might not have come alone. Just get back as fast as you can.”

  “Done!”

  Ending the call, Marco leaned over her, and placing his hands on either side of her face, he softly kissed her, hoping it would help to bring her out of her stupor. It seemed to work. As he pulled back she looked calmer.

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” she whispered, gazing up at him. “I totally lost it there for a minute.”

  “You’re amazing, don’t be so hard on yourself. I need to—”

  “I know. Check the house. My keys are in my jacket.”

  “Listen to me! Don’t answer the door no matter what, no matter who they say they are, and under no circumstances are you to go out on to that patio. Am I clear?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “In fact, don’t leave this room,” he said firmly as he started across to her jacket. “That’s a rule until I get back, and rules are not to be broken.”