by Bella Knight
“I have three letters for you, Ace. F.B. I.”
“Shit,” said Ace, as he helped his uncle clean up.
He caught the highway, and took the 95 south to Arizona to visit with his brother. He got there in the evening, the sun casting shadows out over the lake behind the school.
Keiran was learning sculling, pulling in time on the open water of the lake behind the school. Ace waved, and left a care package at the front desk. When he went back out of the office, Keiran ran up to him and hugged him, still wet from the boat.
“Ace!” his brother said, clasping his arm, “I saw you on shore. No one else would be wearing that jacket!”
Ace laughed, “True! Saw you sculling out there. You were awesome!”
Keiran ducked his head, embarrassed with the praise, “Got my grade from a C to a B in trig, and I’m going to get it up to an A!”
Ace laughed again, “I got tutored the whole semester when I took it. Nearly failed, but something clicked, and I got it.”
“What was it?”
They left the school, going to the front of the school and out to a little bench. And Ace thought about how to answer his brother.
“I saw that geometry shapes, right? And algebra is finding missing information. Trig is… well, it’s about making sense of shapes. Dad builds buildings, right? If the shape wasn’t right, or the lines and angles were wrong, the building would fall down.”
Keiran flashed a look at his brother, “Wish he wasn’t such an asshole.”
Ace laughed and touched his brother on the shoulder, “Me too. At least you’re out of it, here.”
Keiran looked at Ace for a long moment, then he said, “Something’s wrong with the company. Bad wrong. Last time I visited, there was yelling. More than usual. About money.”
Ace held on to his brother’s shoulder, “They didn’t start swinging at each other, did they?”
Keiran’s eyes tore, “She left before it got that way. I called Damian, and I went over to his house to play video games. Stayed there three days. Nobody noticed. That was before you came back from your ride and took me to your house.”
Ace narrowed his eyes, “I’m not telling you to lie,” he said, “a man’s word should be real. But don’t go back. Join a club if you have to, do extra homework. But stay busy enough with something they can check on and say you can’t visit.”
Keiran nodded, “I can do some extra credit,” the bell rang, “that’s me. I’ve got a computer lab. They’re letting me code a game.” The brothers hugged.
“Learn new things,” said Ace, “and keep it real.”
“Always do!” said Keiran.
On the ride back, Ace put on his ride music; Whitesnake wailing about going out alone again. His mind spun. FBI? He could cover Keiran’s tuition, he thought. If people go to jail, the money will go to lawyers. Depends on who’s going down. One? Two? Or the whole deck of cards?
Primrose
Ace took Ivy to meet Leticia. It was on a new corner from the last one, where two apartment buildings met. People drove up to her boys and girls on all four corners. The kids stuck their heads in the cars. Sometimes, someone got in the car. Some of the cars were directed elsewhere.
“Leticia, this is Ivy,” said Ace.
Leticia glanced up, then back at her people sticking their heads in driver's side windows, “What chew wan’? Here to co-lect on you favah?”
“No,” said Ivy, “but we’re here to do you one. That Claw guy, been sent up for dogfighting and murder and running some meth lab out in the desert. He’s a fish trying to get free. He says the meth lab is yours, says he can prove he’s doing business with you.”
“He mentionin’ my boot huh?” asked Leticia.
Her head started moving, and her braids started to clack together. Ace knew that was a dangerous sign with this cobra woman.
“No,” said Ivy, “he never mentioned your brother. Just you.”
“How you know?” asked Leticia.
“One of ours got picked up. He was selling where he shouldn’t have. He’s been punished. He wanted to make me happy, told me about this,” said Ace, “he knew I could get a message to you.”
“You want ‘nother favor?” asked Leticia.
“No,” said Ivy, “we all peaceable with you. We want it to stay that way. Ghost is doing great. We wanted to tell you-you got another girl, needs a new family, we give her to Ghost.”
“Be thinkin’ ‘bout that,” said Leticia, “nobody just yet. But sometime, somewhere I might ‘ave one.”
“We be ready,” said Ivy.
“What Ghost be doin’?” asked Leticia.
“Raising dogs. For protection.”
Leticia nodded, “You'll go on now.” They took the hint and left.
They got some shakes and hash browns at Sonic, and ate them at a picnic table.
“These would be good at the club,” said Ivy.
“Nah,” said Ace, “people associate hash browns with breakfast. They’ll want bacon and eggs and toast with it.”
“You’re right,” said Ivy.
Ace looked at Ivy for a moment, “You know they’re going to take him out when they put him in general pop,” said Ace.
“You know he has a lawyer that just might get him out,” said Ivy, “they’ll pop him, when he’s in Mexico raping some senoritas and sending meth up over the border on bikes.”
“Yeah,” said Ace. He looked away, at his bike, then back at her.
“If my fiancé Arsenal isn’t enough for you to remember, you know? That guy you taught how to fix a Harley? The one who liked what you taught him so much he went to school to learn it. He was gonna marry me,” said Ivy, her voice very low, barely able to be heard above the cars all around them and the desert breeze.
“I know, Ivy.”
“If he’s not enough, remember the dogs,” said Ivy.
Ace flinched, “Damn, Ivy. I just worry about how you…”
“How I sleep at night? I don’t. We run a club. I dance until the last one leaves, then there’s side work and receipts. I have money to count.”
“I know.”
She stood, “Let’s go make some more!” They threw their trash away and rode out to the club.
Ivy lost weight, even with eating nothing but bar food and Sonic. Her friends worried.
They got the call midway through the initial push. Ivy slung the loaded fries behind her, said “Order up!” and pulled the phone out of her pocket.
Ivy listened as Ghost spoke into her ear, “Escape attempt. Prison riot. Claw, was shot by a guard. Also, he was shoved really bad during the riot. He’s dead.”
“Thanks,” said Ghost, “how are the dogs?”
“Primrose be healin’ up nice. Buster not gonna walk right again. He is limpin’ ‘round. Harley and Washoe be ‘dopted.”
“Great,” said Ivy, “you use the card we gave you to buy stuff for the dogs, you hear?”
“Word,” said Ghost, and hung up.
“Primrose?” said Ivy, shaking her head. She grabbed plates of sliders and put them in the window. “Order up!” she said.
Boulder City Ride
The Nighthawks took Lily on her first long ride the next Sunday, heading out at dawn to Boulder City and on to Lake Mead. Lily rode behind Ace, as she was extremely tired from working two jobs. Ace loved having a beautiful woman at his back, someone who remembered to lean and who loved the open road like he did.
They hit up their usual haunt, a campsite on a promontory where you could see the whole lake. They cooked breakfast on the provided grill, ate hash browns and bacon and drank coffee and colas in the light. They laid out blankets and talked. Lily fell asleep on Ace’s shoulder.
Numa leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Keep that one just that close, brother. You let her get away, I’ll chop you up with my kitchen cleaver.”
Ace smiled. Numa couldn’t cook if you paid her and gave her lessons to boot.
“Have to be able to cook first,” he said. She laughed, and swa
tted at him.
Lily woke when Ace just had to shift. His arm had gone to sleep hours earlier, and they had to get lunch and get on the road to be back to the club on time. She woke up with a start, then looked lazily into Ace’s eyes.
“I spent the whole time asleep?”
“’Fraid so,” he said. She reached up, touched his face, and then leaned in to kiss him.
The camp erupted in war whoops and applause. Ace ignored them all, hoping the kiss wouldn’t end. She was Memphis dry rub all right, sweet and smoky and spicy. She tasted like Mountain Dew and warm, willing female and something hot, like cinnamon candy.
She pulled back and smiled up at him, “We’re putting on a show!” she said.
“Yes, we are,” he said.
“Let’s give them something to look at, then.”
She rolled over on top of him and kissed him like he was leaving for war the next day. The whoops turned to cries of “Get a room!” She rolled off of him, pulled down her top, picked up her gray leather jacket covered with studs, and slung it over her shoulder. She sauntered off to help with lunch, leaving him breathless and more than a little… obvious. He had to lie there for a bit, thinking of his brother’s trigonometry test, until he was able to stand up.
Once he had himself under control, he went to help with lunch too; a huge spread from coolers of salads and a hot box of chicken. They ate in the early afternoon, the breeze coming off the water tinged with just a hint of wetness in the rapidly warming air.
Ace, Lily, Ivy, and Adam left early, needing to get to the bar on time. The ride back took on a dreamy quality as Lily circled her arms around him. Adam and Ivy peeled off, and Ace found himself heading to Lily’s apartment a little faster than he should have.
They barely made it in the door when she walked around him, slammed the door shut and locked it, and reached out to grab the back of his head and draw him to her. She reached up and took off his leather coat, reaching above her and hooking it, still kissing Ace, on one of the hooks above the door.
He touched her shoulders, and slid off her jacket, hanging it next to his on the hook over his own head. They kicked off their boots as he kissed his way down her neck. She grabbed the waistband of his jeans and pulled him into her. She was wearing an Aerosmith T-shirt; he had Guns N’ Roses. The shirts hit the couch a few minutes before they did. She kept up the kissing, probing with her tongue, and he found the front hook on her black bra and drew it off her perfect shoulders. She had his jeans unbuttoned before he could unbutton hers.
He held onto her naked back and slid his finger over her scars. He decided not to react, he kept sliding his hands up and down her back. She groaned into his mouth, unzipping his jeans. She stopped kissing him when she stopped to take off her jeans. She had tattoos on both shoulders, a blue rose on the right, and a blazing, wavy sun on the left. He kissed them, and then she was kissing his, the Nighthawks tattoo on his chest, the jeweled dagger on his shoulder, the tribal tattoo around his bicep, and the intertwined brambles on his forearm. She abruptly pulled him to her by his waistband and helped him shimmy out of his jeans. They both took off their socks, and Lily turned to pull down the Murphy bed.
He saw them, then. Crisscrossed, ropy scars, from years of abuse. She had them covered in tattoos, a stunning one of a waterfall falling on the right and a river flowing off to the left. Then a lily bursting out, shining with dew. A tramp stamp of delicate filigree, marred by what some monster did to her. He felt a surge of hope, of desire, of the need to protect her from anyone and anything. And he was going to find out who did that to her. If they still lived, they wouldn’t be alive for long.
He stroked her back in long strokes, pressing against her. He reached down into the pocket of his jeans and brought out two foil packets of different colors. She turned and laughed, “How long have you had those in your pocket?”
He threw the condoms on the bed, on top of her fuzzy blue blanket, “Ever since the day I met you. I had hoped…”
She kissed him to stop his words. She stroked her hands down his chest. He felt himself rise to meet her.
She looked down and smiled, “It looks like someone wants to play.”
She stroked him. He reached down and drew down her panties. She stepped out of them, into him. They kissed, stroked, nibbled, and grabbed each other’s necks and pulled into kisses like the sun. Before he knew it, he was on his back and Lily was opening a condom packet with her teeth.
He groaned. She laughed, stroking his balls as she put the condom on with her other hand. He groaned again. She rose up, sliding down on him, slowly, slowly. He held himself still, ready to let go anytime she was ready. Then she leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders. He stroked her very fine ass, finding more scars. She rode him, deep and dark, and the need rose in him to let go, crying out into her mouth as he kissed her. She laid down on him, gasping.
He kissed and stroked her, holding her in his arms. He got up, disposed of the condom and washed, and brought back a warm, wet cloth for her. He cleaned her and put the cloth back in the bathroom. Then, he held her, and kissed her hair, the bridge of her nose, her pouty lips. She stroked his arms, traced the outlines of his tattoos. He traced hers, with his fingers sliding over the scars.
“My dad. He’s dead. Smoked and drank himself to death.”
“Good,” he said, “I won’t have to hunt him down and shoot him.”
She looked into his eyes, “I would have, was going to. Was trying to save up to get a gun. Cancer got him first. We ended up in foster care, got separated most of the time. Stupid Devlin turned out like him, with the drinking, smoking, and now the drugs.”
“He’s in rehab. You never know, it might take.”
She snorted, “He’ll be high, five minutes after walking out. He isn’t doing it to get sober. He’s doing it to save his skin.”
He looked down at her, “Isn’t that the same thing?”
She shrugged, then caught a glimpse of the wall clock, “We have about half an hour before we need to shower,” she reached out and stroked him, “whatever shall we do with the time?”
He smiled at her and went in for a kiss. Looking into those eyes, going purple with lust; he found himself sinking into something, a dark warm pool of feeling for her in his heart, pooling in his spine, sliding into his belly. He needed her. He wanted her. He was beginning to think it, when she tore open another condom packet open with her teeth, that he may have found the one biker woman who could be his storm cloud, like Lydia. Only Lydia was gone, and Lily was here, right here, right now. He kissed her, held her, and felt the thunder in his mind.
“An open road with open dreams.”
6
Murder’s Ripples
Murder Scene
“Actions and consequences, it’s the way of it.”
Lily spent the next week in a haze of work —the insurance office, the bar, and what Daisy termed, “the investigation of the soulless creeps.” She helped with Daisy Chain’s investigation of dozens of emails and text messages from Braden Dolan, Daniel Dolan, Dolan Premiere Construction, and Braden’s partner, Ciaran Donal. It took them nearly no time to find out that Papa Braden had not one, but two mistresses. One a high-class call girl, the other one an obvious social climber seeking to become Mrs. Dolan Number Two. There were hotel charges, charges for the call girl services, and a stream of little things from one of the top jewelers in the city, probably going to all three women. They scheduled a Friday Skype after Lily left early, during a mostly salesman exodus.
Daisy Chain, real name Daisy Chaiprasit, went to business school with Lily to learn how to help run her business properly. Daisy Chain loved to understand money and utilized hand over fist in financial data that flipped back and forth between Los Angeles and Thailand. She had a flat face and nose of her Thai ancestors. With cinnamon skin, and a love of both data and money, preferably together. Thursday after work, Daisy Skyped Lily, hopping right in with the analysis.
“Papa Braden may be humpin
g a lady of the night and a yoga instructor with Big Gazing's, but Mama Bitch has been humping Ciaran Donal, their business partner. She owns her own 3D printing business and a third of the construction one, too. And, get this… Ciaran isn’t buying her presents. She bought him a Camaro.”
“Fucking shit,” said Lily, “they have two businesses to run. You would think they wouldn’t have either the time or the energy for hopping in and out of bed with half of Las Vegas.”
“It gets better, or worse,” said Daisy, typing faster.
The video fuzzed a little, then focused, as Daisy bopped to the beat of the ear-bleeding mix of rock/house music they both enjoyed. Daisy flipped her braids, two of them flowing down past her ears, back and forth as she typed and scanned.
“I’ve got money marching out of the company like ants right towards…” she drummed her hands on her metal table, making it sing. The three screens of her rig remained immovable, “wait for it… the Cayman Islands!”
Lily sucked in a breath, “That’s nefarious.”
Daisy nodded, pigtails flying, “Girlfriend, these are people you do not want to cross. And what we’re doing ain’t kosher.”
Lily nodded, “Agreed. This is deep background.”
Lily took a swallow of Jolt Cola. Daisy heard her and popped the top of a Monster energy drink, “Have you seen the police reports?”
Daisy swallowed and answered, “Papa Braden’s foreman on the Boulder City job accused him of throwing a beer bottle at him. Mama Daniel threw an ashtray at an assistant, required stitches. I know my makeup, and some photos of her have her in dark glasses a lot, and you can see dark shadows. And Papa Braden works construction and wears long-sleeved shirts a lot. That’s really weird in Vegas in midsummer.”
Lily almost fell off her bar stool in front of her tiny kitchen counter, the only spot that could hold the Alienware, the keyboard, and the flat screen.
“Mama and Papa go at each other?”
Daisy nodded and typed more, “Insinuated, not proven.”
Lily thought it through, “That’s why Ace’s brother is in Arizona, going to some private school there. His parents wanted him out of the way.”