WIFE FOR A PRICE: A Hitman Fake Marriage Romance

by Thomas, Kathryn

  Thad’s cigarette burns slowly as the little puffs drift my way. It brings me back to the present as I try to think of our next move. By now, the Senators’ riders have either peeled off at Exit 43, thinking we managed to get away—back over to our lines—or they’re still hunting us out on the highway among the wreckage.

  I close my eyes and open my ears to the sounds around me. There are some shouts from a lady as she tries to explain to another driver that it was his fault she slammed into this bumper. Another big rig passes on by in a flash with his horns blaring. And among the chaos, I hear two chopper engines racing to my left and right. They’re smarter than I thought.

  “We gotta get out of here. We’re sitting ducks.” I turn on my engine, this time not caring how loud it roars and echoes off of the brick. “You ride in the front. I’ll take the rear.”

  Thad looks at me with his bug eyes bulging from his sunken face. He isn’t quite sure what I’m talking about. To him, we’ve been free for minutes now. He doesn’t speak “road” as I do. He probably can’t even tell that those engines are Japanese…bikes made for speed racing. But he still trusts my instincts. After riding as my partner for over five years now, he knows better than to question me.

  As soon as he manages to start his, I see the flash of the black tire around the corner of the exit. It’s speeding at us at breakneck speeds. Two faceless riders are hitched on the back of two souped-up bikes. Both of us react by peeling away without any sense of direction or where we need to go. Dirt and gravel flies behind us, snapping at the sides of my legs and back.

  Thad speeds ahead like a racehorse. He doesn’t look back; he just trusts me to cover him. He circles around the highway on-ramp, his massive Harley struggling to speed up the incline. Mine chugs along behind him, nearly matching his velocity. He pulls into the moving cars, past the truck we caused the accident with and the woman still screaming about her car’s busted backend. None of them even notice the chase that’s happening right before their eyes.

  We plow through the cars, following the white center line. We never ride directly in view of civilians typically, but I don’t blame Thad. Riding in public gives us a bit of reassurance. No motorcycle gang member is dumb enough to pull out his weapon in mid-day traffic.

  But the guys behind us aren’t as subtle. As I look behind me, spotting the two men riding up on the back of their bikes, pushing them to go even faster, I see the head rider pull out a gun from inside his jacket. He aims it carelessly at us and fiddles with the trigger. The wind whips at his arm, and he struggles to balance both himself and his bike with just one arm.

  I hear the bang piercing through the roar of the wind against my helmet. The bullet hits at the side of my mirror and ricochets off in a high-pitched bang. I swerve, nearly bursting into Thad’s pipe and the side of a large, black SUV. The driver stares at me dumbstruck as he clues in on what’s going on. I push my hand against the man’s vehicle to straighten myself back up as another shot lands on the ground in front of me.

  Now I can see the shooter’s game. He doesn’t want to kill me, at least not yet. He’s going for my tire. It’s a harder shot than getting at a body, one that I’ve made a few times in my career. And by the sound of the whirling police sirens coming up from behind us, he doesn’t have much time to get it right either. As I see the red and blue flashes, I direct my bike in front of the SUV and out towards my exit. My knee skims the side of the concrete barricade as I can practically feel the skin burn off of my leg.

  The shooter manages to follow me. His shots go wide left, and I drive out even farther to the right. Another shot dings the side of my bike’s body, managing to just miss me by inches. And as I pull down towards the end of the road, he finally makes his target.

  There’s a POW and a bang, as I feel the bike under me lose control. I try to steady it with all my strength, but it’s too much. It pulls out from under my thighs, as I go flying towards a clearing off of the road. There are flashes of yellow, red, brown, and green as my shoulder hits the ground first followed by the rest of my body in a somersault onto the brittle desert grass.

  I don’t have a moment to think about what just happened to my bike or me. I can’t even consider where Thad is. I shake my head with dirt and dust falling off of my black leather jacket. I try to pick myself up, but the pain is too much. Something around my hip is busted…bad, and I can feel the cool trickle of blood soak into my jeans.

  I stop moving altogether when I hear the heavy footsteps of a man approaching me. My eyes can’t make him out with the sun beaming down on me, but I see the outline of his broad shoulders and long neck. His hands are clenched to his side and his boots scuff at the pavement, as he walks with a man who knows what he is about to do.

  “Well, well, well,” he snarls at me as he stands over my body, just feet above my chest. “The Bloody Pagans think they can rob the Senators? Think again, son. No one, and I mean no one, steals from Wilson or—especially—from me!” His voice grows cold and dark, and I hear the distinct metallic click of his safety as I suck in air…possibly my last breath ever.

  And with all the reserves I have managed to save up, all the adrenaline coursing through my body, all the power I have—my arm spins around my chest and dives into the folds of my jacket pocket. I pull out my trusty gun and shoot, aiming wildly at the object above me.

  Everything goes still with the pop of the gun firing. A small puff of smoke replaces where the man was hovering above me. Almost in slow motion, I hear the thud of a body and a shriek of someone wailing. And as I spin, I can make out the gun falling from his motionless hand. I reach around, grabbing it from his space just in case my shot wasn’t fatal. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t even shake or flinch. There is only the roar of the main road on the other side of us and the highway looming just ahead.

  I roll myself over, moving my bruised and battered hip gingerly with my hands. I’m aching, but there’s nothing broken. The blood that stains my jeans is my only visible injury, a tear in my skin from when I fell onto the ground. My bike, however, is in worse shape. It’s going to need a trip to the bike doc before I can ride it again.

  My phone vibrates urgently against my waist. I cough a few times, letting the pain fly out of me. “What’s goin’ on, boss?” I ask Jonah Barber on the other end.

  “You get the job done, Gavin?” He’s not one for small talk, but I’m grateful of that. This isn’t exactly the time to chitchat about the weather.

  “Yes, sir. Everything’s accounted for, including one corpse belonging to the Senators outside of Exit 43. I’m gonna need some backup on this one, along with the crash truck to come get my bike. It’s in worse shape.” Dead bodies in our business are like a missing spreadsheet at others. It happens. No sense getting too bent out of shape over it.

  “I’ll send J.R. and Percy. You send me your coordinates. I’ll see you at headquarters later tonight.” He adds with a touch of humor in his voice, “It’s a big night for us, kid. Long time coming.”

  I answer happily, “Yes, sir. It is.” I hear the sound of the phone click over as I try to contain my excitement. Even a broken bike and a casualty aren’t going to wreck my big night with the Bloody Pagans.

  CHAPTER 2 “Mom, please! Just this once! Just tonight!” I wail.

  “You know the answer, Vanessa,” she snarls, barely giving me a glance. “It’s your father’s decision. Whatever he says, goes. I’m not about to go against what he said.” She’s so focused on stirring the noodles in the pan that she can’t even register that her only daughter is more desperate than ever.

  That’s my mother -- an old woman through and through. Since I was born, all I have known of her is this weak little bird of a woman, who took orders from my daddy as if they were straight from the mouth of God. I’ve never once disobeyed him -- or even spoken a bad word against him. That’s how all the motorcycle club women are around these parts. Once you get married, you’ve lost all of your power. You’re his property to control.

&n
bsp; I know when to give up. I can see it in her eyes that I’ve gone way too far with this. Whenever we talk these days, we come to that fork in the road where I can push her buttons, or I can just let it go. And I’m choosing to let it go.

  Ever since I turned sixteen, I’ve wanted to go to a club party. At that age, all of my other friends with dads and brothers in the Bloody Pagans were allowed to attend. But me? Oh, no, no. I was the lucky exception. I was Bloody Pagan royalty, which meant that I was above all the drinking, drugs, and dancing. I am Jonah Barber’s only girl, the virginal princess to be put on a pedestal next to her daddy and brother. No man, let alone a club member, was allowed to even come within five feet of me without my daddy’s expressed written permission.

  But I’m twenty-four now. I’m long past my prime compared to my other friends. My best girlfriends all lost their virginities at parties just like these nine, ten, even eleven years ago. And while the idea of giving it up in the HQ’s damp basement or on one of the overused couches wasn’t perfect, they still got it done. I couldn’t help but be just a little bit jealous of that.

  I storm upstairs like the little brat I want to be. My feet kick at the hardwood planks as they go until I reach the door to my bedroom, which I slam for extra dramatic effect. Is it childish? Fuck yes, it is. But it’s not as if my mom is going to say anything to me at this point.

  In the quiet of my room, I slump down into my large bed still covered in the princess pink comforter I was bought years ago…just another reminder that I’ll always be twelve years old to my family. I pull out my phone and dial the one person who understands it all, Alice Dugger.

  Alice’s my best friend—and these days, she’s my only friend. She is the one person my parents allow me to talk to currently, but that’s only because her dad happens to be the vice president of the Bloody Pagans. To them, she isn’t a threat because, well, she’s got loyalty and position. Daughters of lower members have something to gain by gathering intel on the Barber family. And now that Alice’s dad is retiring at the end of the year, she’s even higher on my dad’s okay list.

  But what I love about Alice is that she knows what it is like to be the daughter of a high-ranking Pagan. Her daddy wasn’t as strict as mine is. She always got to go to the parties or date some of the younger members, but she also had curfews and chaperones. There was even a date in which my brother Martin followed her around from the movie theater to the restaurant and back home just to ensure that her date didn’t figure out that she was part of the motorcycle club lifestyle.

  Her bright, cheerful valley girl voice instantly springs into my ear as she picks up the call, “Hey girl! What’s going on?”

  My mood lightens just listening to her. She’s got that effect on people, “Hey, Alice. I’m just lying in bed dreaming of what it is like to not be Jonah Barber’s daughter.”

  “He seriously won’t let you go tonight? That’s such a bummer.” She huffs loudly into the mouthpiece. “Doesn’t he know that you’re twenty-four, in college, and totally able to fend for yourself? It’s not like you’ve given him any reason to doubt you.”

  She’s right. My life has been a long list of accomplishments and high marks. I’ve been the captain of my swim team, an honor roll student in high school and now college, and I even volunteer at animal shelters while I’m working on getting my degree in veterinary school. I am basically any father’s dream daughter. Why can’t he see that?

  “You know him, Alice. He’s just trying to protect me. Or something like that.”

  “I wish you would stand up for yourself.”

  “You know what would happen if I tried.” I swallow hard, as I unconsciously pick at the scab on my knee. I don’t want to really think about what happened when I tried to go against his orders last time. I add tiredly, “It’s no use. I’m not getting into that party.”

  There’s a long pause as I can tell Alice’s mulling it all over. She’s always one to try to think of the sunnier side of bad situations, but her answer totally surprises me. “You should just go.”

  “What?”

  “You should just go, Vanessa. Wear a hoodie, come late after the party’s begun, stay outdoors and out of sight of your dad, and don’t tell anyone who you are. It’s not like they would recognize you anyways.” Her voice speeds up as she thinks through her plan. “I’ve got this tight black hoodie that would look awesome on you! Show off those banging curves, girl!”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am! You could do it. I mean, it would be a risk, but you have to live a little. How long do you plan to be locked up in that bubblegum palace of yours? You gonna be that amazing, world-renowned veterinarian and still have to ask your daddy for permission to go out at night?”

  I don’t know how to respond. Everything she is saying makes sense to me. For so long I’ve just gone along with everything my dad has told me, but I haven’t even gotten my feet wet in the real world. Maybe it’s time that I do get myself out there…screw the consequences.

  I can feel my confidence build, as I try to think through the logistics. But one thought stops me. I ask softly, “What about Martin though?”

  “Your brother isn’t going to rat you out. He’s a good guy.”

  “Alice…?” I hold back my words, knowing that she’s been harboring a crush on my older brother for years now. How can I break it to her that he is as demanding and controlling as my dad? “You know that if he saw me, he’d report back to my dad. He thinks my dad knows best on everything.”

  “Dad knows best on what?”

  I spin towards the voice in my room. Dad, himself, is standing in the doorway, his hand resting above his head against the pink walls. I whisper quickly into the phone, “I’ll call you back, Alice,” as I focus on him now.

  “Dad knows best on what, Vanessa?” He eyes me suspiciously, his jet-black eyes peering at me, judging me.

  I drop my phone down by my side, as I slowly explain, “About the party tonight. I was telling Alice that I couldn’t go.”

  The mood changes, as he instantly jumps on my words. “Damn right I know best about that, Vanessa. You have no place at a Bloody Pagan party. You hear me, goddammit? No fucking place.”

  “But what if I went with Vanessa? I mean, she’s been to the parties be--”

  “Quit it, Vanessa!” he seethes. He walks into the room, his stocky figure taking up so much space. “You listen to me when I say this for the last time: I make the rules around here. And when I say you can’t go to a Bloody Pagan party, I mean that you can’t go to a Bloody Pagan party.”

  He leans his body over mine, a finger pointed directly at my face. I can feel his sticky, hot breath on my face as I back off and away from him. My body practically falls into the bed trying to escape. But he knows how to make it clear that he’s the dominant one in this relationship.

  When I don’t answer, he lowers his voice to a dim roar and says, “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” My voice is shaking, as I become aware of just how afraid of him I really am.

  “Good. That’s the end of this conversation.” With that, he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  I take a deep breath and exhale quickly, as I try to move all the negative, horrible energy out of me. He has this way of getting to me, of forcing me to be someone that I am not. But I have had enough of this. I wasn’t going to be his little princess trapped by her evil father. I was going to get out here. I was going to make my life what I wanted it to be. I was going to go to that damn party.

  I waited a few beats before picking up my phone and texting Alice a frantic, angry message: That was my dad. He said no way in hell that I could go to tonight’s party. But I’m going. I’m not going to let him control me anymore!

  In seconds, she replied: That’s right! You go, girl! But how are you going to get there?

  I smile widely, as I type back: You, of course. You got me dreaming of escaping, so you’re going to help me out of here. 10 PM, my place. Park a
long the alley so you don’t wake my mom.

  I pass the rest of the hours leading up to the party by hanging out in my pajama pants, watching some ridiculous talk show with my mom. She cackles away at some celebrity guest star while I roll my eyes and try to focus on the giant textbook in my lap which conceals the phone which I’m using to monitor Alice. At around eight, Dad and Martin sneak out, both of them already tipsy from their dinner beers and whiskey.

  Before he leaves, my dad grabs his jacket and walks towards me. I put the book above my face, hiding the bitter scowl on my face. He kisses me on the forehead, as he says in his sloshy voice, “You’re such a good girl, Vanessa. Such a good girl.”

  “Yeah! A good girl who’s gonna sit at home with her mommy all night.” My brother—with his too tight t-shirt and wild black hair—stares at me with a wild grin on his face. He knows how much I wanted to go to this party, or any party at that. His freedom is like a power trip to him, and he doesn’t waste any opportunity he gets to rub it in my face like a child.