I answer the unknown number, and at first I don’t recognize the voice.
"Is this Paisley?" a male voice asks.
"Yes," I say in a questioning tone, waiting to find out what this call is about.
"Your car is ready. Should I bring it?" Oh, now I remember. It’s that guy from the shop, the hot Asian that sold me a real car. There is something interesting about him. He keeps proving he doesn’t belong here at all, and yet there must be a reason he is not harassed by the locals for who and what he is. He fits in with someone somewhere. Could it be the MC? I hate to think someone who seems so honest is involved, but these gangs have been known to have the kind of resources to use as a bribe to bring people in that might not be involved otherwise.
"Yes, please. I am at the address I provided," I say to him, glad I won’t have to walk out of here in the dark with that check in my possession. The last one I have left from my previous employment. Hush money. I don’t want to cash it or put it in an account, but I will probably have to soon. Not only is it dangerous to have on me, but I will need the money to fix this place up. I just don’t like the idea of being traceable. In fact, I hate the idea at this point.
"The old, theatre?" he asks into the receiver, making me realize he is still there.
"Yes, that’s right," I say. "I own it now."
"Be there in a few," he says and hangs up. Good, it would soon get around that it’s what I am here for. I can give this guy my lame story about a dead husband whose dream I am fulfilling with the beau coups of money he left me, and it will seem like I am here to just blend in and start a life. Nothing suspicious at all. Then, I will find my actual in.
My brain knows that Jade would be a great in, considering that even if he isn’t in the MC, he likely works with at least one or two members. But my heart begins to ache as if it knows what I am thinking. I can’t let it get to that again. I would rather die than risk my heart getting involved. If only it was so easy to turn the damn thing to ice so thick no one could ever chip their way through.
But that is the cruelest joke of having a loving heart, it doesn’t stop even when it’s been ripped to shreds.
It isn’t too long before I see him pull up outside, and I am suddenly conscious of my sweaty hair half tied back and half falling in my face as well as my now ratty clothes from everything I have been doing in this theatre all day. I shouldn’t care, but some old habits die hard, I guess. I look forward to the day men don’t matter to me like this anymore. It’s not like they did so much before him either, but he did something to me long before I could have noticed it. He wrecked me.
"So, what's a gal like you doing all alone in a dusty old theatre like this?" he asks me, and I smirk at his accent. He has been here long enough to pick up the twang and slang, but there is still that hint of his heritage in there too. Something unique in a one-horse town is hard to come by.
"I am fixing it up, making it new again," I answer him, taking the keys from his hand as he looks around.
"I guess you're right. It already smells nicer than what I remember as a kid," he tells me with a chuckle.
"So, you grew up here, then?" I question, trying to dig a little while still sounding like I am just naturally making conversation. If he has been here this long, he might actually prove to be useful like I thought. But dammit, it’s going to take all of my willpower not to go too deep into this.
"Moved here when I was about nine or ten, something like that," he says, his hands in his pockets. "Do you, uh, need any help around here? I mean, no offense to you or any woman, but I don’t know that you can move all the heavy stuff by yourself," he offers, and I smile at his offer. Hmm, really oddly nice guy for this town. I wonder if it’s an act. If it is, he’s going to be damn sorry when he finds metal pressed to his skull one day.
"You know what, I actually could use help throwing out some of the old furniture and fixtures," I say with a shrug, leaving it out there for him to take or leave.
"Go ahead and put me to work," he says with a sexy smirk.
Oh, I so will, and I will enjoy every minute of it with that white tee of his getting drenched in sweat. I may have had my heart broken, and I may be here for unsavory reasons, but I am still a warm-blooded female.
Chapter Four
Jade
As I walk into the clubhouse, I feel like a grade A idiot. I don’t know why I offered to help Paisley with the theatre she purchased...purchased with her ex-husband’s money to fulfill his dreams I might add. Even if I was a regular guy, I still shouldn’t be interested in her. Being a rebound from a dead man is not exactly the way to go. But the fact that I am in a motorcycle gang, a viscous, dishonest one. A criminal one. The kind that people actually had to fear, is enough to keep me away from any potential relationship. Or at least it should be. Even a damn friendship is risky.
Yet, here I am all covered in sweat after I offered to help the new woman in town. I am not supposed to do nice things for pretty women because it gives the wrong message; that I might be available to them. And no nice woman, hell, not even a bitch deserves to have to deal with my baggage.
I hear the buzz of Texas, our tattoo artist, giving someone their tat, and I remember we are having a big party tonight to give a cut to a prospect and brand his ol' lady as well. At least it is an opportunity to get shitfaced and forget for a moment about all my troubles and my dreams. Those are the worst; the little bits of hope in the back of my mind that linger and cause me to daydream about a life outside of this town and away from these monsters.
But I know it will never happen.
The wuss is getting his teeth and chugging back some vodka while Snake, the prez, watches from the side lines with a chuckle. I join the rest of the boys nearby to pretend like I am watching the action, but I don’t really care. I don’t know this new guy well, and I don’t really care to. I know who I have to know. I do what I have to do. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Besides, this whole ceremony is a sham. These men choose ol’ ladies all the time, brand them like cattle, but then, by the end of the night, he’ll have a clubwhore in his bed, almost guaranteed. But that’s okay because he always comes back to his ol’ lady. Never mind the fact that if she was caught with that behavior, she would be out the door, bloody and bruised, if she was lucky, that is.
Speaking of jumping between women, I look back over at Snake and see that he yet again has a new woman on his arm. Not that I can call her that, simply because, compared to him, she looks so young. She has long, dark hair, and she is tiny, like half his size. She looks transfixed by him as he holds her there next to him, not even looking at her once while he watches this new member’s ol’ lady come up to the chair.
Snake still hasn’t strapped himself down to anyone, and I doubt he ever will. All these poor girls and women cling to him for dear life, and they all end up thrown in the trash in the end.
Texas doesn’t take too long on this woman in his chair. He has always had a soft spot, a real southern gentleman, at least sometimes. He is one of the men I get along with the best.
Then, when she hops off the chair, a wild cheer rings through the place, and I grab my beer and raise it, joining in wholeheartedly. That’s what we do. We celebrate new members and new relationships, even if it’s a load of shit.
I think back to when I first joined and how amazed I was with everything. I was only 14 when I began prospecting, and I was living here full time by 16, but something was different. I don’t know if I was just naïve or if I was kept in the dark or maybe that things were different. Snake had just taken over then. He was new to being prez and proud of it. Now, he was cocky. There is a fine line between the two attitudes, and yet a whole mountain of difference sits on that line it seems. The drugs, the money, the women, the guns, the power, those are the things Snake cares about now, and one day, it’s going to get him killed. Maybe if I survive to see that day, I can get out alive.
Snake steps up in the center of us all like he is going to give a speech,
and he leaves his new chick over on the side, looking like she is just a dead doll without him. He tends to have that effect on a lot of people, not just women, I am likely one of the only ones that can see through his mask, that could leave and not feel like I am in withdrawal from him. He has a way with words; charisma, I guess. His father had it too, but he didn’t seem to use it like a weapon. Not that I knew him as anything but an old man, but still, he may have been a criminal but not in this same way as Snake. He had his name for a reason.
Snake has this smile plastered on his perfectly angular face as he looks at everyone. If we weren’t in our cuts, you would think this is some corporate toast or some shit. I wonder if this is what the mafia is like with all those men in suits, blood on their hands.
"It is good news all around today, boys," he says, and my eyes shoot up to his. He has my attention, because usually these announcements are the kind that make me sick to my stomach, the kind that let me know even if it means a bullet to my brain it’s time to leave. "I have brokered a deal with a new trafficker, one that is going to pay us top dollar and really help us build the empire we want. I will be choosing my best man to make the trades on the women."
Everyone hoops, hollers, and puts fists in the air, but I am horrified. I know that Snake has considered diving into the sex trafficking business before. He didn’t make much from it, and the person he was working with became a liability the last time. I had hoped he would just give up. This could not be good.
Fuck, it is the most despicable thing a club can do for money in my opinion., Having hookers is better than this; at least it's generally a willing situation. But this is too much, and what if they go for children? Don’t they get the most money? No, I can’t stand for this.
Everyone breaks up, going their separate ways to get more drinks, women, or dance and fuck. Who knows, and who cares. I plan on grabbing a few more drinks and then calling it a night because I just can’t stand to be around these men all of a sudden, but my arm is grabbed by another. It’s firm but not harmful, and I turn my neck to find that Snake himself is just a couple of inches form my face.
“Need to talk with you for a minute, friend,” he says. I try not to scoff as the word he used. The thing is, he has no reason not to trust me, though my lack of enthusiasm as of late may be noticed. There is no other reason, and for my safety, I guess I better keep it that way. But I have no idea what he could want with me. I don’t have a high rank here. Once I learned the truth, I decided I didn’t want to try to get one. So, I have flown under the radar doing just enough for a couple years now. I get the feeling this is going to come to an end now, though.
We got off into a corner where there’s no one else but a couple who is all over each other. Snake taps them, and they slide down the wall to the other side as Snake smirks at them like it is some beautiful thing happening when in reality it’s a couple of sick drunks sucking face and soon to be other parts.
“What is it, Prez?” I ask, addressing him with respect even though my insides are boiling at being so close to this obvious sociopath.
“Jade, you’ve been here since the moment my father began training me. I know I have overlooked you for a lot, but I have been struggling to find just the right position for you here; something worthy of your loyalty,” he says.
I cock my head to the side and say nothing, more than curious for him to spit it the fuck out.
“I need you to be my man for this job, Jade. I need you to see the women to their destination and take the enforcer with you, make sure they pay up,” he says. “You’ll get a cut,” he offers, as if this is going to make the act less deplorable.
I stand there in shock, not knowing what to say to this. I know what could happen if I say no, but if I say yes, there is no more saving my soul.
“This is a big job, Prez,” I tell him, trying not to make it obvious that I am disgusted at this, that I don’t want any part of this. Maybe if he thinks I doubt my ability he will set me free and find someone else. But as I look into his eyes and they get hard, I know there is no such luck.
“I trust you on this one. You’re my guy. You’re the only one I want,” he presses, and I know what he means. It’s a threat. I take it or I am as good as dead. So, I do what I have to, stick my hand out and shake on it.
Fuck, I am going right to hell when I leave this planet. There is no way but down now.
Chapter Five
Paisley
It has taken me two weeks to get this place just right, but now I have flyers out at every local business, even that seedy mechanic shop and gas station, about opening night. Yes, this should have taken me months to revamp and old theatre, but it's amazing what the right dollar amount will do. And I don’t have time. I need to do this as soon a possible before my cover is blown; either because of this MC here or because of the government that can still track me. They can easily discover I am not in the new life they wanted to give me, and then it would be all over.
Now, it is time to do what I came here for.
I pull up my laptop in my apartment, something that is suffering from all the time I have spent in the theatre getting it ready, and start doing some research. There is one thing this tiny town is not lacking in, and that is bars. Bars, pubs, clubs, this town has it. Of course it does. Where there is organized crime and nothing to do, there will be partying, alcohol, and drugs. I just need to find the right one to plant myself at to see what I can see and hear. I need to get a handle on who the members are of Red Crows MC. I need to hear the rumors to determine what to do next. When people are inebriated, that is the easiest time to get them to talk or to overhear something.
I happen to notice there's one right by the trailer park, quite a large one. That is likely the right location, and the original layout is available on the city website; public record. Looks like there is a huge basement and an apartment up above. Oh yes, this has to be it. Red Steel....well that’s just perfect too, since they are the Red Crows.
I slam the lid down with a smile and go into my closet. There’s not much there. A woman whose identity and place of residence changes this often has to travel light, but I do have some of the right things. I go for something tight that shows cleavage but a pair of tight ripped jeans instead of a skirt. I don’t plan on coming off like a clubwhore. I don’t need that kind of attention. I want to blend but not that well. And I certainly don’t want these men harassing me for something I am not selling.
I tuck my cell phone and just enough cash to get some drinks in my pocket and head out, making sure to take my new car with me. It has been pretty reliable so far. Engine sounds good, and I have had no issues at all. So, that Jade guy didn’t sell me a dud.
The thought of him in my brain is enough to make me think of that damn well sculpted chest of his as I drive off towards the seediest part of town. There is a part of me I attempt to bury deep that kind of hopes I will find him there. Then again, that is a horrible hope as it will likely confirm his involvement in Red Crows MC as a member. However, a nice dance with him won't harm anything, right?
I shake my head as if it will erase him from my mind like an Etch N Sketch as I pull up into the almost full parking lot of Red Steele; the sports bar that is likely home to this MC.
My boots scrape against the cement as I strut my way in, ignoring the men like they mean nothing as they look my way. Though, I can see them all out of the corner of my eye. A lot of them are in leather jackets, and I almost bet of I pay close attention they will have the Red Crows' logo on them.
Right now, my focus is on the bar as I lean over it, my cleavage giving a nice show to the bartender that is now coming my way. A woman, actually, she must be someone’s ol' lady and thus a full-fledged member, though the way she drinks me down, I can tell she likely swings both ways.
"Hi darlin'," she says with quite a twang. It’s almost cute. I suppose if I swung that way, I would totally be into her. So, I pretend I am, being sure to flirt in case it'll get me something, anything. "What ca
n I get for you?"
"You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart," I tell her, the Okie coming out of me so easily like it was yesterday that I was still in my home state. "I am damn thirsty and looking for a good drink. I will take whatever you recommend."
She winks at me and begins to mix me a drink, something girlie but strong. She passes me the drink, and I find myself beginning an easy conversation with her.
I get through a good four drinks in increasing strength, chatting off and on with her. Her name is Clara, quite the southern name for sure, but she has nothing of use to me. I am about ready to move on when I feel a new body come up next to me, and then I recognize the voice.
"I just keep finding you in places I would least expect you to be."
I follow the tan muscles of his arms all the way up to his amber eyes, and he smirks at me.
“I think you are overestimating me,” I tell him, choking down my ridiculous reaction to his presence, including my heart up in my throat. I mean, how fucking old am I? I am not some school girl with a crush, and I need to pull my shit together and be boss bitch, not this little fan girl that my fluttering heart is trying to get me to be.
“I would look at it like underestimating you,” he says before turning to the bartender. “I’ll handle the rest of her tab tonight. Get her a drink for the road,” he says, and I scowl at him openly.
“What the fuck do you mean for the road?” I ask, letting my inner sailor pop out of my tipsy, tingly lips.
“You shouldn’t get drunk in a place like this. It isn’t safe,” he says, leaning down to my ear, and my fucking panties almost fall off of their own accord.
“Are you insinuating that I can’t take care of myself?” I raise my eyebrow and turn to face him, pressing myself into him like a challenge. Two can play this game, and I am a little bit too far gone on my drinks to resist the shenanigans. Even as our drinks are put in front of us, I do the shot without moving my eyes from his amber orbs. He locks his with mine as well as he enjoys his whiskey; a fine drink for a man.
One Way Out (Red Crows MC Book 1) Page 2
