She laughed, a choking laugh. “When you are locked in a room with no food, and not even allowed to go to the bathroom, you don’t care how much money you have.”
Dirk sat up. “He did that to you?”
“A lot.”
“Why?”
“Various reasons, most of which never made sense. I thought I had done something to piss him off at first, but he’s a sadist. He says it’s to punish me for misbehaving, but then he does things that force me to upset him so he can punish me. So it’s simple. He enjoys making me suffer.” She stopped for a moment, remembering, never having had a chance to tell anyone before. “Once things went to shit, he grew more abusive, hitting me, raping me. I figured out that he liked it when I fought back. But then once he tore my clothes off and slapped me around, he couldn’t get it up. I made the mistake of sneering at him. Partly it was relief. He blew up and after he beat me, he decided to lock me in my room. He left me there for three days.” She shrugged. “Then he decided that was great fun. Bring home some girl or another, fuck her in front of me, then lock me in my room while they went out to dinner or whatever.”
“Shit. This happened a lot?”
“More and more.”
“So you finally decided to run.”
“First I decided to kill him.”
“Really?”
“I had the money I got secretly selling off things he gave me when he was in a good mood. I needed to do something. I heard about your club, your rep and I thought I might hire your gang to kill him.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I guess I thought that if I had him killed his evil would stick to me, like some kind of disease. I couldn’t stand the idea that I’d never be rid of him. That’s when the idea of just escaping came to mind. Your club, bikers… no one like Terrance pays them much attention.”
He scowled. “I suppose that’s right.”
“Trudy told me you are the club Enforcer.”
He looked over at her, and she saw him trying to read her face. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“You cut people? Is that why they call you Cutter?”
“Yeah. I’ve cut people.”
And he had. The streets he grew up in were dangerous and he’d learned that a knife was a great equalizer. He liked knives. They never misfired or ran out of ammunition. They did what you asked of them as long as you kept them sharp and the one he carried in his boot was always sharp.
At some point, under some circumstances he couldn’t recall clearly, he’d been asked to use his skills against club enemies. At first he’d been told to kill a particularly dangerous rival. Later he’d been asked to extract information from unwilling witnesses who had information important to the survival of The Chosen Few. Information on police raids or intentions, or those of other clubs often came from reluctant sources.
Dirk took no pleasure in hurting anyone, but he owed the club his survival and he did his best. When he met a master of the ancient Chinese art of torture called ling chi—death by a thousand cuts—he studied with him. This art made keeping secrets more than difficult—when applied with skill and patience he’d never found anyone who could resist.
He thought that one reason he’d achieve such a level of skill was that it meant nothing to him. He had no ego involved in it. He was given a job and had learned that when dealing with stubborn people, ling chi was the most efficient, most effective way of getting information. Nothing more.
“So you like cutting people?”
“No. I’m good at it though and it can be necessary when people need to be convinced to talk, or when they are unpleasant in some way.”
“So if I’d hired the club, you would be the one who did it? You’d cut his throat?”
She watched Dirk consider it. “If Bart took the deal he’d probably tell me to do it, but he’d be reluctant to take on a straight murder though. I doubt the club has ever done that.”
“Why not?”
He grinned. “Because we are choir boys? The truth is that taking on that kind of work would make the cops look in our direction more than they do normally and that would have a bad effect on business. Also, the real hit men types might frown on us moving into their line of work. It’s heavily unionized.”
“What business do you guys get involved with that the cops care about?”
“Smuggling, selling dope… No one cares unless you get too high a profile and attract attention.”
She looked at him for a moment. “Have you ever done it? Killed a person?”
Angry voices came from the next room. A woman screamed out: “So you think I’m a bitch? Then I’ll just fucking leave.”
Dirk smiled as the neighbor’s door slammed shut. “We seem to have landed in a high-class place. But I wanted to talk about you. You seem pretty at home on a bike. How does that factor in the life of a trophy wife?”
“You’re dodging my question.”
“Am I?”
She laughed. “Okay, I’ll talk. I guess calling what I was a trophy wife is a fair enough call. Not one I expected though. See, I grew up poor in LA. A lot of the guys I knew in school had bikes. They weren’t real bikers like you guys, but the boys loved their bikes and I took a lot of rides. Some of them might have graduated to the big time by now.”
“So how did you make the jump from poor kid to society girl?”
She laughed at the obvious question, at his sincerity. “Basically, my mother pimped me to Terrance.”
“Nice.”
“I made that sound real shitty, but that’s just because it seems that way when I think back. Mom had good intentions. She didn’t really know him, just about him. She worked for him as a housekeeper in his LA house.”
“He has more than one?”
“Five that I’ve seen. LA, New York, Florida, France, and one in Majorca.”
“Okay. Sorry I asked. Hard to imagine anyone wanting more than one.”
Unsure of why she wanted to tell him something she never told anyone, she continued her story. “My darling mother meant well. All she saw was his money, good looks, and charm. When he got divorced, she made sure he met me, and that I was turned out properly. He took the bait and decided I’d be his next wife. I had a job at a fast food place, no boyfriend, and no prospects, so it was an easy sell. Before we were married, he seemed really concerned with making me the perfect mate for him. He hired people to teach me manners, how to dress, and smile at his catered parties.”
“He changed?”
The tone of his voice was tinged with real concern so she kept talking. “He let me see the other side of him. He hates women… as people. He loves them as fresh meat, as toys for pleasure, and doesn’t particularly like the fact that they can speak or have ideas.”
“And no one would help you.”
“The police are reluctant to annoy a wealthy man just because his wife calls 911 screaming of domestic abuse. Especially after he, and his high-powered lawyers calmly explain that she is somewhat deranged and under a doctor’s care. Especially when they trot out a reputable physician for hire to swear to it.”
“So you become an annoyance, rather than a victim.”
That he accepted her story pleased her. “Seems so.”
Dirk was quiet for a time. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I killed him?”
She wondered if he was joking, or maybe testing her. “No.”
“You aren’t sure?”
This man actually made her laugh. “I meant no, I don’t want you to kill him.” She rolled on her side, facing him, feeling that attraction again. “Thanks though.”
He closed his eyes. “Whatever. Now we better sleep. You can use that bathroom first.”
“Toronto is a long way from here.”
“Distance is a good thing when you are trying to get away from someone. Are you in a hurry to be there?”
“Not really. Maybe I’m just anxious to get to the point where I feel like I got away and don’t have to keep lo
oking over my shoulder.” If I ever get there.
“And you have no idea what you will do when you get there?”
“None. Not a clue.”
“That’s lousy plan.”
“It isn’t any kind of plan. It’s just that I can only deal with one major crisis at a time. Once I get away…”
“I’m a realist. If your husband is as vindictive and nasty as you say, and believe me when I tell you that I trust every word you’ve told me, then he’ll put a tempting price on your lovely head, and on mine for helping you.”
The scope of what she had started collapsed on her and she sat down hard, stunned. “You are saying I’ve put you in danger.” She stared at him. “If it’s so risky, why do it?”
“Why take the job? For money, at first.”
The honesty of the answer pleased her. “At first?”
“I’m still in it for the money. It’s a job. But I’m beginning to hate this clown you are running from on my own account.”
“He deserves all the enemies he can get.” Dirk said nothing and she thought about their situation. He was a hot guy, sexy as hell, and she was willing to admit her feelings—to herself. As far as their relationship went, sharing a motel room with him was something she hadn’t considered. It made her uneasy, but he seemed willing to talk straight. If she knew what he intended, she’d know how she should act. She decided to tell him. “Trudy and Meg said you’re a ladies man.”
“I like women.”
“But you don’t have one?”
“Not now.”
She decided not to ask why. Not now. But there was one thing she did want to know… “Tell, me Cutter, do you like women as people, or just as women?”
He smiled. “I like people with spunk. I like women as women—as sex partners, since I’m sure that’s what you meant. But I hate men who are abusive to women. It’s funny to think about. I’m about as far as you can get from a decent human being without being a sociopath, but I don’t like bullies of any kind.”
“I think that makes you a strange and rather complex person, Cutter Beaumont.”
He smiled at her. “If we are going to be friends, you have to call me Dirk.”
“Okay, Dirk.”
As she headed into the bathroom, hoping she wouldn’t find it a totally disgusting mess and that she could take a shower, Audra found herself wondering how friendship played out with a man like Dirk “Cutter” Beaumont.
* * * *
After her shower, Audra came out of the bathroom feeling wiped out. The long day, the meal and wine were all taking their toll and the shower relaxed her. She’d forgotten to take the backpack in the bathroom with her, and the extra set of road clothes Trudy had given her were in it. Unwilling to put her stinky clothes back on, she had wrapped a towel around her and carried the clothes into the room, hoping she wouldn’t give him the wrong idea. Wearing only a robe might make him think she was being seductive.
But he was asleep. He lay just as she’d left him, lying on his back on the bed, sound asleep, snoring.
The lamp on the nightstand illuminated him and she found it impossible not to look, to take the chance to make an inspection of the man who’d been drafted into the role of her savior. The more she looked the harder it was not to admire what she saw. The hard lines of his jaw, his muscular body were vibrant, even asleep, as if he was ready to spring into action.
She dropped her towel, realizing she was holding her breath as if he would open his eyes and see her naked. Then she slipped between the sheets and switched off the light.
Dirk’s steady soft snore reassured her, even as voices from the next room filtered in.
“I paid you to swallow my cum when you sucked my cock, you stupid bitch,” a man was saying. The commercial dispute in the next room didn’t interest her all that much, but curiosity had her lying there waiting to see if there was any sort of followup. But before she knew it, she had drifted off into a sound sleep.
* * * *
A knock at the door woke them. Dirk hopped up, moving catlike toward the door and she saw him smoothly pull a wicked looking knife from his boot. He peeked through the spy hole and snorted. Then he put the knife back and opened the door for two bikers.
One of them was a large man who filled the doorway. He stared in the room, at Audra in her bed.
“Wrench has your bike over at the garage. Bobby is riding to Bakersfield to get the parts now. It should be good to go tonight.”
“There’s a cafe next door to the garage,” the other man said. “Wrench says you owe him breakfast.”
The mention of breakfast made Audra realized that she was famished. “We’ll be over shortly,” Dirk said. He closed the door and smiled at Audra. “Sleep good?”
She rubbed her eyes. “Like a rock.”
He headed for the bathroom. “I’ll grab a quick shower then we’ll get some breakfast and you can meet the troops.”
She dressed as he showered, and when he emerged, still wearing the same clothes, but looking refreshed and smelling of soap, they walked across the street, past a garage and into a small cafe that radiated fantastic smells. Over eggs and bacon and toast and lots of coffee, she met Johnny, and Hank. Wrench was the only one she already knew, and it surprised her that seeing his quick smile cheered her. She wrote it off to the pleasure of a familiar face, but his smile suggested he was truly glad to see her as well.
“We can be on the road tomorrow morning,” Wrench announced.
Audra was impressed. “That was quick work.”
Wrench looked pleased with the compliment. “Teamwork. I pulled it apart yesterday, then called our guys from the local charter of our club in Bakersfield and got them to round up the parts we need. They have them ready for Bobby to pick up and he’ll head straight back. Soon as he’s back I’ll get greasy. The work will only take an hour or two.”
Clearly the prospect of getting greasy appealed to him.
“No serious damage then?” Dirk asked.
“Shit, I could rebuild the entire bike, dude. There ain’t nothing too serious for me to fix unless you total the fucker.”
By the time they paid their check, Bobby was back with the parts. The efficiency with which these men did things amazed her. She had attributed a lot of qualities to bikers, but The Chosen Few seemed to be a well run outfit. As she and Dirk watched, Wrench and Hank did get greasy. Wrench had already torn it apart and by suppertime, Dirk was test riding it.
When he came back, he looked pleased. “Early start tomorrow,” he said.
Wrench smiled. “Got a direction, just for those of us who didn’t pass the mind reading class?”
“We are gonna catch I-40 toward Flagstaff then head over to Four Corners, and up north through Colorado.”
“Sort of the long way, ain’t it?”
“It’s a lot prettier than running up through Vegas.”
And so, after another awkward night at the Black Hole of Calcutta, which entertained them with what sounded like a domestic drama this time, they woke with the early light, had breakfast at the cafe, and hit the road.
CHAPTER SIX
Jack had just settled into his bath when the goon knocked on the bathroom door. “Mister Crawford, we got some news you might want to know about.”
The goon knew better than to bother him unless it was for important business matters. Jack had selected this hotel because of the nice tub. The goon knew that too. Bathing was important. Blood never really washed out, but you could soak it off. Jack got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist, then went into the hotel room. The goon had a laptop sitting open on the table. The screen showed the face of a highway patrol officer. Up in the corner was a map showing the man’s location, just outside of Bakersfield.
Jack walked over and stared at the screen. “You have something for me?”
“I heard you were looking for anything suspicious, that you were looking for a girl who’d run off.”
“And?”
“We got a
report about an accident. A car ran a motorcycle off the road that had a man and a woman on it.”
“A biker?”
“Thing is that the driver of another car reported it. He said some nut passed him and forced the bike off the road. We sent out a car but they didn’t find anything. You’d think someone would report being forced off the road, for insurance stuff. So I went to the nearest town and showed the picture you sent out around. A biker and a woman came in a cab and then other bikers joined them. They fixed the bike and left. The lady running the motel recognized the girl and so did a waitress at the cafe across the street.”
Jack felt tempted to smile. He could smell fresh blood. “Headed where?”
“I don’t know. I just know there were four or five bikes and the one girl.”
That worked fine. “Here’s how this works. You’ve done us a service and I’m sending one of my men to give you the promised reward. If you want to double your earnings, get on the horn with your buddies and tell them that a friend’s wife ran off with some bikers and you promised to track her down for him. Offer a hundred bucks to anyone and everyone who spots them. Relay the reports to me and I’ll get you your money and reimburse you for anything you pay out of pocket.”
The delicious look of greed spread over the man’s face. “Yes, sir!”
Jack clicked off the computer and decided he had time to heat up the water in the tub and take his bath. He called up a map of the area in his head. Jack was good with maps, studied them. Given where the accident had taken place, given the major and minor routes it had access to, he considered the options the bikers had available. As far as he was concerned, only one made sense.
He sank into the water, imagining the possibilities. He’d assumed one person was helping this girl. That she had more than one was wonderful. He’d put them all in one room and they could all watch, bound and gagged, as he took his time with them in turn.
He’d save the woman for last. Last and best.
* * * *
At the end of the third day on the road, Dirk got Audra her own room. He and Wrench shared the adjoining room on one side, Bobby and Johnny shared the room on the other side. Hank had headed back to LA.
I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances Page 79
