by Zoey Parker
“What are you doing?” she hissed to her friend.
“I have to try this! I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t,” Georgia whispered back.
They hastily stopped talking; Spike had come close enough to hear them, even over the din of the bar.
“Ladies,” he said, approaching them. “Might I ask what you’re doing here?”
Georgia was five feet five, wearing four-inch heels, and yet she still barely came to his chin. “We’re with The Black Scorpions from northern Chicago,” she said.
Stacy was surprised at how confident Georgia sounded, but she carefully kept her face blank.
Spike smiled patronizingly. “That’s nice, but it doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, and looking for me, no less.” He turned to nod to the blonde woman behind the bar, who had been blatantly watching their interaction.
Georgia looked around. She saw a lot of faces staring back at her, faces that quickly resumed drinking or talking when she looked at them. Maybe Stacy was right, she thought, panic once again rising in her chest, maybe we should bail.
“We need to talk to you about Ivan,” Stacy blurted out.
There goes that chance, Georgia sensed, judging by Spike’s face. He looked like he had just bit into a lemon. He wasn’t going to let them go anywhere anytime soon.
An incredibly attractive, olive-skinned woman came up to stand behind Spike. “What do they want?” she asked, nodding towards Georgia and Stacy.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he replied slowly, not taking his eyes off of Georgia.
Cleo followed Spike’s gaze, her face hardening when she noticed where his focus was. “Bring ’em over to the table and we’ll get it out of ’em soon enough,” she said shortly, abruptly turning and striding away.
Spike continued to stare at Georgia, who was becoming extremely uncomfortable with each passing second. “Well,” he said after a long moment, “you heard her.” Spike stepped to the side, gesturing for the two women to follow Cleo.
Georgia turned to Stacy and gave her a look that was unreadable to Spike—a fact that strongly piqued his interest.
Spike trailed behind the ladies, musing to himself. It was interesting enough that these two had come in to talk about Ivan of all things, but they had an air about them that Spike couldn’t figure out. The shorter one with the great ass, which he was able to openly appreciate as he walked behind her, looked like a biker babe, but her eyes…there was something about them he couldn’t place.
Spike was pulled out of his reverie as they approached the table.
“Who are they?” Tiny asked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“That is an excellent question,” Spike said, sitting down and turning to look at the two strangers expectantly.
Georgia looked around the group and cleared her throat carefully. She had practiced what she was going to say here, repeating it to herself a hundred times over.
“My name is Georgia, and this is Stacy.” They had decided to go with their real names; their story was already thin enough without adding the difficulty of remembering what they were called. “We’re members of The Black Scorpions from up north. Our men dropped us off here to talk to the leader of Satan’s Disciples about a serious matter that affects us all.”
“I’m sure whatever you señoritas need help with, the Satan’s Disciples can handle it, no problemo,” Hector said, grinning wickedly at Stacy, who suppressed a terrified whimper.
“They’re here about Ivan,” Cleo said loudly, staring hard at Georgia, her hazel eyes boring into Georgia’s blue ones.
“What do you two want to do with Ivan?” Tiny asked the girls worriedly.
“They want our help getting rid of him,” Vince correctly guessed, finally speaking up. His deep voice reverberated across the table as he addressed Georgia and Stacy. “Don’t you?”
Georgia tore her eyes from Cleo to look at the rest of the group. “Ivan has been slowly picking away at everyone’s territory. His reach is far, and strong. The Black Scorpions know the only gang left strong enough to take him out is Satan’s Disciples.”
“You’re not wrong!” Hector cried, whooping loudly.
“Hector,” Spike snapped, “shut up.” Hector glared at his leader, sipping his beer sullenly, but Spike ignored him. Instead, he carefully scrutinized Georgia, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Cleo. “I’ve never heard of The Black Scorpions before. Who did you say sent you?” he asked curiously.
“Stinger is the highest ranking member we have left. He’s the one who brought us to come find you,” Stacy said casually, though she had rehearsed this line several times.
“Why didn’t Stinger come in and speak to me himself?”
“It’s not safe for our men to hang around so close to Ivan’s territory, so Stinger and another member dropped us off here,” Georgia answered.
“Are you his ol’ lady?” Spike asked her, surprising himself. He didn’t know why he said that. He tried to ignore the fact that his gang was watching him very acutely, especially Cleo, and look as though the question was important.
Georgia’s heart froze mid-beat. This was off-script; she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to wait too long to answer—that would be suspicious—so she blurted out the first thing she could think of. “Yes, I’m Stinger’s old lady.”
Stacy shifted next to her. She thought they should be keeping things simple, not adding details. On the other hand, perhaps if Georgia pretended to be the leader’s girlfriend, it would offer them extra protection.
Spike couldn’t figure out why it was odd Georgia had claimed to be Stinger’s property, but something about the entire situation was bugging him. He sat back in his chair, once again ignoring the rest of the gang’s stare. He was trying to focus and work whatever was bothering him to the front of his mind.
“Interestingly enough, we were just discussing Ivan ourselves,” Vince said, standing to offer one of the women his chair. Hector immediately jumped up to also offer his. Georgia and Stacy sat, much to Cleo’s displeasure.
“They don’t need to know that, Vince,” Cleo said, glaring at him. She looked to Spike for help and got nothing.
“They are right,” Vince pushed. “Ivan is a problem to us all. Weren’t you just saying that exact thing a few minutes ago, Cleo?” he calmly reminded her.
“That doesn’t mean we start spilling our guts to strangers about Satan’s Disciples’ issues! Spike!” she cried, pulling him away just as the answer was on the tip of his tongue. “Some back-up here?”
He bit his lip in anger—he almost had it! “Everyone knows Ivan is a problem, Cleo,” he said impatiently. “It’s not a secret people are looking for a way to push him out. Even Ivan knows it.”
“So you have a plan?” Georgia asked, hope beginning to fill her chest. “You’re going after him? When?” she demanded.
Spike sighed tiredly and turned back to Georgia, and was instantly struck by her clear blue eyes. The innocence in them—it was what he had felt earlier when he first saw her. It had been a long time since he had felt innocence, so long, in fact, he hadn’t even recognized it when it walked right in front of him with its tight leather vest that threatened to burst open any second.
He realized uncomfortably that he was starting to get hard. He quickly picked up his beer and took a long sip to give himself a few seconds to collect himself. As a man who had done his share of sexual activity, her innocence was arousing, but something still bothered him.
“We don’t, and…we’re not,” he said finally.
Cleo’s body went rigid with anger. Spike ignored her. He knew she was furious with him for revealing more information about Satan’s Disciples business, but he also knew she respected the chain of command far too much to say anything. Until later, anyway.
“What?” Georgia said in shock. She knew it might be difficult to convince Spike to go after Ivan in the next couple of days, but she had at least expected him to have a plan. Felix made
Spike sound incredibly competent, but apparently he had overestimated him. Her shoulders drooped.
“I’m sorry,” Spike began. “I understand all too well the difficulties The Black Scorpions are going through, but Satan’s Disciples can’t get involved. We don’t have any kind of a plan, and I’m not willing to risk my neck over it,” he finished with a shrug. “You’re welcome to stay and have a drink on our tab while you wait for Stinger to come get you.”
Georgia just wanted to leave, but Stacy quickly butted in to accept his offer, ordering another Hawg Ear. Figuring she might end up dead in a few days, Georgia ordered one as well, slamming the remainder of the one in front of her.
Spike eyed her. She was obviously upset, and Spike genuinely felt bad. He knew what it was like to worry about your people.
“Maybe you should talk to Joe, the owner,” he said to her quietly, nodding towards the bar where Joe was now replacing an empty keg. “If anyone knows anything, it’s Joe.” Spike looked fondly at the frizzy, blonde-haired woman he’d come to consider a surrogate mother.
Georgia glanced up and took another sip of her drink. “When he comes back, I will.” She gave Spike a small smile. “Thanks.”
Spike tipped his glass to her and drank deep, frowning. Something was bothering him again—what was it, dammit! Wait a second…Him? Realization slammed into him like a brick, and he choked on his beer, spraying it everywhere. Everyone scooted back quickly to avoid getting misted.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Spike!” Cleo cried out, disgusted. “Drink much?”
“Sorry!” he gasped. “Sorry…wrong tube.”
Georgia looked at Spike concernedly. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Spike took an enormous breath in, and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”
Everyone settled back into their chairs and resumed their conversations. Georgia saw Hector was delighting Stacy with an endless stream of compliments, and Cleo was arguing with Tiny over riding tactics.
“You know, I, uh, just remembered Joe is probably in back doing inventory,” Spike said, leaning in close to Georgia. “If you want, I can bring you back there to talk to him.”
“Really?” Georgia exclaimed, her eyes brightening. “That would be great! Let me just get Stacy,” she said, turning to grab her friend.
Spike reached out to stop her hand. “It’s a really small back office, and Joe doesn’t like lots of new people in his space. It would be better if it were just you. You are the leader’s ol’ lady…right?” he asked slyly.
“Right,” Georgia said confidently.
“Then you’ll do just fine.” Spike grinned widely at her.
Georgia didn’t know what to do. She felt uneasy about going anywhere without Stacy, but she had already come this far, and there was no turning back now. “Let’s go,” she said firmly, standing up and following Spike.
They wound through scattered pool tables towards the back of the bar where a small door stood marked Office. Spike held the door open for Georgia, and she hesitantly entered. Georgia saw several rickety shelves filled with dusty liquor bottles and a rusty desk, but no Joe.
She whirled around to see Spike closing the door behind him. Georgia rushed at him, hoping to catch him off balance, but he caught her easily and grabbed her arms to keep her from hitting him.
“What are you doing?” Georgia panicked. “I’ll scream!” she threatened.
Spike snorted. “Go ahead. No one is going to hear you over the noise out there,” he said, letting go of her.
Georgia stepped as far away as possible from him, rubbing her wrists where he’d grabbed her. She opened her mouth to scream, watching him to see if he was going to try and stop her. But Spike did nothing except sit on the desk and look at her. Georgia closed her mouth slowly, confused.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her simply.
Georgia thought her wrists might beg to differ. “Then why are you keeping me in here?” she demanded to know.
“Why are you lying to me?” Spike countered. “I know you’re not from The Black Scorpions, if there is such a gang in northern Chicago.”
Georgia opened her mouth heatedly, then faltered. She didn’t know what to say. She was clearly busted. “How did you know?” she blurted out.
“There were a lot of clues; the leader didn’t come himself, no property patches, though you claimed to be the leader’s ol’ lady. The giveaway was when you called Joe a guy, though. Joe’s a girl.” Spike laughed. “You bought your drinks from her.”
Georgia moaned. They had been so stupid. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, suddenly terrified.
“What?” Spike said, shocked. “No! I already told you I wasn’t going to hurt you. Though it is an exceedingly bad idea to come into a biker bar and pretend to be bikers just to get your rocks off. Someone else might not be so lenient with you. Surely you girls can find safer ways to have fun.”
Georgia stared at him in total disbelief. “You think I did this for fun?”
“Well, now I don’t,” Spike muttered self-consciously. “So if not for kicks, then what?” he asked her. “Why did you come here asking about Ivan of all things?” His face hardened suddenly. “Are you with Ivan?” he asked dangerously.
“No!” Georgia cried. “The opposite. Stacy and I, we really did come for your help with Ivan. Well, mostly me,” she admitted. “Stacy came for moral support.”
Spike relaxed a little, but he was still confused. “What could a girl like you have done to cross paths with a man like Ivan? Who are you?”
“My name really is Georgia,” she said desperately, “Georgia Lewis. And you’re right. Normally, I would never be in a situation like this. My little brother, Felix, got tangled with up with Ivan, and now that man is hunting him down as we speak. I just…” Georgia trailed off halfheartedly. “Felix said you were the only one around who would be able to give us a chance against Ivan. I know it was dangerous and stupid, but I had to try. I never would’ve been able to forgive myself if I didn’t try.”
She seemed to be speaking to herself more than him, Spike noticed curiously, trying to convince herself this hadn’t been a complete waste of time. He also noticed, now that they were in better light, Georgia had several cuts and bruises. Her left eye looked puffy, like she had used make-up to cover a shiner.
“Please,” she begged him, her blue eyes bright with tears. “Please help us. Ivan’s going to kill my brother, and he’s all I have.”
Spike walked over to the door and put a hand on the knob. “I’m really sorry about your brother, but there’s nothing I can do.” He opened the door and took a step out.
“Liar.”
Spike looked back to see Georgia staring at him defiantly. “Excuse me?” he said with a disbelieving chuckle.
“I called you a liar,” Georgia repeated challengingly.
“You’re the one who came into a bar pretending to be someone else!” Spike cried.
“You can do whatever you want,” Georgia continued, ignoring him. “You’re choosing not to help me.”
Spike shrugged. “You’re right. I could help you, but like I said before, it’s not worth risking my neck over.”
“What is, then?” Georgia said, seizing his words. “What would make it worth it? Money? How much?”
“Something tells me that if you had that kind of money, sweetie, Ivan wouldn’t be a problem for you,” Spike drawled.
Georgia looked down, avoiding his gaze. “I could get money, a lot of money. I just need a few days to get it, and, well…”
“Ivan’s not willing to wait,” Spike finished. “Where are you getting that kind of money that you can’t get it now?” he asked.
“My dad,” she said simply.
“Wait,” Spike said, confused again. “I thought you said your brother was all the family you had left.”
Georgia sighed. “It’s…complicated. We don’t talk to our dad much.”
Spike snorted. “If he’s still alive and willi
ng to give you potentially thousands of dollars, how bad can he really be?”
Georgia sank down on a rusted, metal folding chair. “He isn’t…or, he wasn’t. Something happened after Felix was born and Dad just started to lose it.” Georgia stared ahead, looking at a memory. “So slowly we didn’t even realize what was happening until one day he was yelling at Mom and he punched a hole in the wall right next to her head. He’d yelled and punched walls before, but he’d never come that close to hitting her.” Georgia shrugged, coming back to Earth. “Mom was gone the next morning. After that, Dad didn’t yell when he was drunk anymore, but he didn’t do anything else either. I left for college as soon as I could, but I had to stay close because of Felix. I couldn’t leave him.”
