by Vivian Gray
Tats had already filled me in on the phone. He and Bear had gone together for a drug pickup and discovered the no-name was skimming some off the top and overcharging. Though the Jagged Jackals were our biggest rivals, finding top shelf drugs was no easy task, and we usually put away our differences in the name of a good high.
No one wanted to make deals with an unknown, in case they were an undercover cop, and making a deal with our enemy was better than being locked up. But nothing could sour a working relationship faster than cheating someone out of what they paid for. And based on the bizarre angle of his nose, the no-name clearly hadn’t counted on Tats bringing his own scale and on Bear being a former boxing champ.
“A misunderstanding,” he said around broken teeth, blood dribbling down his chin.
Tats snorted. “A misunderstanding? The only thing he misunderstood is that we aren’t idiots he can fool into paying full price for half the product.”
Honestly, Tats was an idiot, so no-name had that right. No-name had, however, failed to understand that Tats was an addicted idiot. Tats didn’t know much, but he knew his drugs.
“It won’t happen again,” he said. “Let me go, and I’ll give you a discount. Twenty-five percent. Fifty-percent!”
“How long have you been cheating us?” I asked, keeping my face neutral, not giving anything away. I needed to keep the man calm if I didn’t want anyone in the restaurant to overhear what was happening less than twenty feet away from them. The office had great insulation, but I still didn’t need to deal with a man screaming for his life to be spared.
“This is the first time,” he said. “It was an accident, and it will never happen again.” When that failed to get a reaction, the man continued, “All Hellions buy at a deep discount.”
“All Hellions?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
The man nodded furiously, bloody saliva dripping from his fat lip.
“That’s very generous,” I said. “But unfortunately—”
“Please, no,” he said, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “I have a family.”
“Don’t interrupt.” I leaned across my desk, lip pulled up in a snarl. “It’s rude.”
I couldn’t let Tats, Bear, or anyone in my club see me disrespected. Leading the Hellions meant demanding complete and total obedience at all times. I took care of problems, and I made tough calls because I had to. If they thought for a minute I was going soft, I’d be dead, and someone else would be at the helm.
I leaned back in my chair, the springs squeaking under my weight. “We all have families,” I said to no-name, picking a fleck of dirt out from under my fingernail. “But we all don’t make bad deals. That’s just you.”
I turned to Bear, who was standing next to the door, a grin spread across his face. If Tats knew drugs, Bear knew violence, and he was eager for it. “Take him out back.”
No-name crumpled onto the floor, his face downturned, a stream of indecipherable pleas pouring from his lips. Tats and Bear moved to either side of him and hauled him up, though his legs refused to bear any weight. It didn’t matter. Tats and Bear carried him out the door as though he weighed nothing.
“Bear,” I called. Bear turned and popped his head back through the door. “Send his body to Angel. I’m sure he’ll be wondering what happened to his drug guy. We need him to understand that the Hellions won’t be taken advantage of again.”
Bear nodded and pulled the door closed.
No sooner had the door closed than a knock came from the inner office door, the one connected to the restaurant.
“Come in,” I said, knowing who it would be before the door even opened.
Joy popped her head in, her red hair hanging in limp strands around her face. “Hey, J,” she said. “Good to see you again.”
“Yeah.” I nodded, though I didn’t share the sentiment.
Joy had always irritated me. The way she fawned over me and the rest of the Hellions, hungry for even a sliver of attention, made her seem desperate. Sure, the waitresses did the same thing. Truthfully, most women acted similarly around me, but they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know that I’d ordered people to be murdered, that I straddled the line between good and evil. But Joy knew, and she didn’t care. Joy wanted this life, and despite being the leader of one of the toughest MCs around, I couldn’t imagine why any respectable woman would choose this.
I needed Joy though. It was nice to have someone managing the restaurants who knew about my double life. It made it much easier for me to come and go as I pleased, and to ensure I wouldn’t be bothered with the mundane day-to-day operations.
“Have you seen the numbers this quarter?” she asked, nervous eyes flicking towards the floor.
I grimaced and gave a terse nod. The numbers had been dropping steadily since the first news report had been published. It was mostly conjecture, gossip that had been run through the rumor mill so many times it passed only the vaguest of resemblances to the truth. Still, that didn’t stop people from believing it.
Apparently, I headed up an arm of the mafia and ran a sex trafficking ring. The article had been pulled and a clarification issued in the next day’s newspaper, but the seed had been planted. Families don’t want to take their children to a Jasper’s Grill if there is even a hint of a possibility that it could be part of a crime ring.
Even as that news began to fall into disrepute, my name was still driving traffic online. Gossip sites questioned my sexuality, pointing out that I’d never been seen with a woman and close-up pictures of my hands showed no wedding ring. The proverbial “they” wrote that I was arrogant and confrontational, that my “quizzical brow spoke to a world of secrets behind my pretty face.”
That line was a particular favorite of mine. Petitions were being passed around online for my restaurants to be closed because they were bad for the community and for business. My public image, while more popular than ever before, was taking a real beating, and so were my profits.
Joy handed me her phone, the screen illuminated with a new article only a few hours old:
Jasper Black Gay; Linked to Crime Ring
“It’s Texas,” she said, taking her phone back and shaking her head. “It’s still a very conservative area. Maybe being seen around with a... girlfriend... would help?” She hesitated over the sentence expectantly, her eyebrows rising so there was no misunderstanding her intentions.
But the day I was seen on the town with Joy would be the day I completely lost my mind. I’d rather go bankrupt because a mob of social conservatives burned my restaurants to the ground than have anyone think I would date a woman like Joy. It wasn’t just because she was unattractive –though she was. It was more because she embodied everything I hated – a desperate need to be liked and validated by those around her, no initiative to improve her circumstances, and no backbone to speak of.
“Thanks, Joy,” I said, my tone finite, dismissing her.
“Of course,” she said, half-bowing before she thought better of it and left.
I rolled my eyes, unable to refrain even though there was no one in the room to see it.
Joy had made a good point; being seen with a woman would solve at least part of my problems, but between the restaurants and the Hellions, I didn’t have time for a steady relationship. More than that, I had no patience for it.
The convenience of bedding any woman I wanted, in whatever town I happened to be in at the time, was too good to consider letting go of. The woman who finally convinced me to give up my bachelor lifestyle would have to be one hell of a woman.
Chapter Three
Marin
Despite the slow afternoon, the dinner rush came in hot and heavy. I was running back and forth between the kitchen and my tables non-stop, and I knew my arms would be sore the next day. One table with four men kept asking for beer refills before their glasses were even empty. I think they liked watching me bend over the table to set the glasses on their coasters. And while it was slightly demeaning, the tip I received made it all worth
while.
My shift ended at seven, and I was scheduled to meet up with the student from the mentorship program at seven-thirty; however, when I checked my phone on my last break, the student had texted to cancel. So, picking up an extra shift felt like the next best thing to volunteering. At least I’d have a little extra money at the end of the month to put into savings.
The closing shift was one of my favorite shifts to work anyway. The restaurant mostly cleared out by nine, so I could typically put on my headphones while I cleaned the tables and floors. I was alone in the main dining area listening to a mind-numbing techno playlist and mopping under the tables when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jolted, dropping the mop and ripping my headphones out of my ears.
Shelly stood there, her face pulled up into a wince. “Sorry, Marin.”
I laughed, although my heart rate was still decelerating. “It’s fine. What’s up?”
“Now I feel bad asking for a favor. I practically gave you a heart attack.”
“Really, it’s fine. It’s what I get for listening to my music so loudly.”
She smiled and looked up at me from under her lashes, hands held in front of her chest in a prayer. “Is there any way I could leave and you could close up on your own? I wouldn’t ask except I have a date with this really amazing guy, and I would love to go home and wash the ‘Grill’ stink off of my clothes.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, though Shelly didn’t seem to hear me because she kept talking, her hands waving wildly to further articulate her point.
“There is nothing worse than getting frisky with your date and then having him whisper in your ear that you smell like a hamburger. Smelling like a dead cow is not sexy. So, taking a shower and changing my clothes is imperative. I mean, I brought a change of clothes with me, but they are probably wrinkled by now.”
“Shelly!” I said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “I’ll close up. It’s not a problem.”
Her face broke into a huge grin. “You are an angel, Marin Wagner. A beautiful, generous angel. God bless your darling soul.”
“Oh my gosh, save some of the sweet talk for your date,” I joked.
Shelly thanked me approximately one thousand more times before she finally left. I waited for her car to pull out of the gravel parking lot and onto the frontage road before putting my headphones back in, the steady bass and persistent beats drowning away every bit of stress I had.
I finished mopping the floors, wiped down the bar, flipped off all the lights, and was moments away from leaving when I saw a bag of trash sitting by the kitchen door. Shelly told me she’d take it out on her way to her car because she parked in the alley behind the restaurant, but clearly, she’d forgotten.
I grabbed the bag, heavy with uneaten salads and enough paper napkins to fill the Grand Canyon three times over, readjusted my earbuds, and headed for the back door through the dark kitchen. The bass was relentless in my ears, and I walked to the beat, which was as close as I ever came to dancing.
I faintly heard the back door close behind me as I stepped into the dark alley. It wasn’t really an alley, but that’s what everyone called it. Really, it was more of a strip of gravel that ran behind the restaurant, separating the building from the open field behind it.
One light – a dim bulb hanging from an electrical pole – illuminated the space. Inky black shadows crept in the corners and crawled up the sides of the brick structure. Trash duty didn’t bother me the way it did the other girls, as I was usually more afraid of running into a possum or a raccoon than a person. But when I heard a second bang, not dissimilar from the sound of the door slamming shut, my heart lurched in my chest.
I dropped the trash bag, the loosely tied knot coming unwound, trash and spoiled food spilling onto the gravel, and ripped my earbuds out of my ears. The techno music played on, but I could only hear the distant beats as I spun in a circle, looking for the source of the noise. The back door was still closed, and I didn’t see anyone creeping up behind me. Had I imagined it?
Then, a second bang rang out. This time the noise was not muffled by the sound of my music, and I recognized it for what it was.
A gunshot.
It took several seconds for my body to react to what my brain had already figured out. Someone nearby had a gun. I needed to run. By the time my feet were finally ready to move, a large shadow separated from the shadows at the back corner of the restaurant. As the shadow moved into the circle of light created by the lamp, I was able to see it for what it was: two men carrying a limp, bloody man by his arms and legs. They were headed in the direction of the field.
At least they were until they saw me.
“Hey!” the bigger one shouted in my direction, dropping the head and shoulders of the man he was carrying, his smaller companion left holding the legs. “Stop!”
I didn’t listen. I took off at a sprint around the building, though I had no idea where I would go. My keys were in my purse, which was sitting on the bar. I’d never have time to get my keys and get back out to my car. The men would have caught up with me by then, blocking my path.
I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket as I rounded the front corner of the building, knowing the police would never arrive in time. Then, I saw his car. Jasper Black’s car still sat in the corner of the parking lot.
It had been so long since he’d arrived that I had completely forgotten he’d visited the restaurant at all. I didn’t know Jasper Black, but he was a large man, and we lived in Texas. Surely, he had a gun. I momentarily forgot about calling 9-1-1 and focused on getting to Jasper.
I heard the large man’s footsteps behind me, and as I neared the front door, the smaller man came tearing around the corner in front of me. He had gone around the building the other way to cut me off. I yanked the heavy wooden door open and pulled it closed, fighting against the door closer. Finally, it shut, and I turned the lock, knowing it wouldn’t keep them out for long. The large man collided with the other side of the door, his entire weight slamming into it, and I yelped.
“Jasper!” I screamed. I no longer cared that I’d never spoken to Jasper a day in my life and that he was a complete stranger to me. As my only hope of escaping the night with my life, he had just become my closest friend. “JASPER!”
His office door flew open. His eyes were wide, scanning the room until they landed on me.
“Two men. A gun. They killed someone.” The words poured out of my mouth in a flood I couldn’t control. I felt entirely numb, as if I’d momentarily vacated my body and was watching the horrifying scene from above.
Confusion flitted across Jasper’s face, and then he clenched his jaw. It made his jawbone even sharper, and I chastised myself for paying attention to how handsome he was when two inches of wood separated me from two murderers.
He walked over to me more calmly than I would have imagined. I thought he was coming to protect me, shield me from the two men. But then, he stepped around me and to my horror, unlatched the door.
The two men burst into the room, all heavy breathing and sweat, but when they saw Jasper, they stood to attention. What was going on? Why weren’t they attacking us?
“Is it done?” Jasper asked, his voice sharp as nails.
The men nodded, and then the smaller one stepped forward. “We still need to load up the body.”
The larger man cleared his throat. He had a bushy beard that grew down most of his neck with long hair to match, so he looked more like an animal than a human. “We were interrupted,” he growled out, gesturing to me.
Jasper made a small noise in the back of his throat, and both men went silent. “Finish it, and leave,” he said.
The two men nodded slightly, tossed me deadly looks, and left.
My brain had gone to mush. Nothing was happening the way I thought it would, and I really needed to lie down and drink a glass of water. A pitcher of water. A gallon. My mouth felt so dry, and my head felt like it had been emptied and stuffed with cotton.
Jasper l
ooked more handsome than ever, but I could see something darker in him now, a threatening note I hadn’t previously picked up on. Before I had time to think about it, though, my vision went black, and my knees hit the floor.
Chapter Four
Jasper
The girl was a complication. One massive complication. The restaurants acted as a great cover for my less than legal businesses, and keeping my two worlds separate was imperative to both of them being successful. I couldn’t just kill one of my waitresses, especially when the last place she would have been seen was working the late shift at my restaurant.
My image had already taken a massive nosedive in recent months, and having waitresses turn up dead would certainly not help the situation. Police would investigate, and though I did well to cover my tracks, I couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t find something. The local police could occasionally surprise me by being remotely competent.
The girl looked more like a cartoon princess than a waitress – a peaches and cream complexion and bright blonde hair that tumbled around her shoulders in shampoo commercial style waves. Even in her Jasper’s Grill polo and grease-stained jeans, her curves were obvious.
She was unconscious. That’s what I needed to focus on. Not her face or her body. She’d fainted, and I now had a very limited amount of time to decide what I wanted to do with her. Letting her go felt like a non-option, even if by some miracle she didn’t immediately go to the police, she would certainly quit her job and explain to her waitress friends what happened. That gossip would spread quickly, and the police would end up on my doorstep regardless.
Likewise, killing her was a non-option for obvious reasons. What option did I have, then?
A soft moan alerted me to the fact that I no longer had any time to think or plan. The girl was waking up, eyelids fluttering, pouty lips pursing as she stretched. Her limbs retracted in and then stretched out as she finally opened her eyes and looked around. I saw the exact moment when she realized the last half hour had not been a dream, but a horrible reality. Her eyes flicked from fatigue to confusion to horror, and she was on her feet and pressed against the back wall of the small office within seconds.
