Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set

by Hildreth, Scott

  “He’s a tattooed meathead that--”

  “He wasn’t a tattooed meathead when he was here a few weeks ago. You were going on and on about him. He’s so nice. He’s so handsome. You’re a hypocrite. You’re going to apologize to him.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “I’ll leave. I swear. If you get between us, I’ll leave.”

  “You don’t have anywhere to go,” she coughed.

  “Try me,” I said. “I mean it. Apologize to him, and don’t put your nose in my relationship business again.”

  “Lex. Seriously,” she pleaded. “This is textbook stuff. You’re attaching yourself to him because he saved you from those--”

  “Jesus, mother. Really? Do you have that little faith in me?” I flopped down on the couch and buried my face in my hands. After a few deep breaths, I continued. “I haven’t attached myself to him. I find him attractive because he’s nice, and he treats me like he cares about me. It has nothing to do with him saving me.”

  “He doesn’t care about you,” she said.

  “And you know this how? You don’t even know him. You were neighbors. You weren’t even friends. And you hadn’t seen him for ten years when you went and asked him to find me. Think about it, mother. You asked him to find me, and he did. Why? Because he’s nice. Would some asshole do what he did? I don’t think so.”

  She sighed and sat down beside me. “I just don’t think he’s--”

  “Have some faith in me, and give him a chance. But don’t wreck something that has the potential of being good for me.”

  She looked at me. “Do you really like him?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “And you don’t think he’s just doing this to, you know. To--”

  “To get in my pants?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “For sex.”

  “No,” I said adamantly. “I don’t.”

  She gazed down at the floor and let out a sigh. After a long pause, she looked up. “Okay.

  “So, you’ll apologize?”

  “If you want me to.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay. I suppose I’ll have to, then.”

  “Thank you.”

  I wondered exactly what she said, and how Adam felt about it. Hopefully he’d accept her apology and we’d move on as if it never happened.

  I turned to her with every intention of telling her how I felt about him, and when I did, the doorbell rang.

  “That’s probably him,” I said.

  She stood. “I doubt it.”

  She walked to the door, peered through the peephole, and then looked at me.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  She shrugged and pulled the door open.

  “Good morning, Miss Hart. I’m detective Watson with the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department. How are you doing today?”

  My stomach knotted into a ball.

  “I’m uhhm. I’m good. Is there something wrong?”

  “Wrong? No, there’s nothing wrong. I’ve just got a few questions,” he said. “Trying to close a case. Have you got a minute?”

  Oh shit.

  I hoped this day would never come. I wanted to go somewhere and hide, but there was nowhere I could go that he wouldn’t be able to see me. I buried my face in my hands and hoped she’d somehow convince him to leave.

  “Uhhm. Sure. What can I do for you?”

  “May I come in?”

  No. Don’t let him…

  “Sure.”

  He stepped into the living room and immediately made eye contact with me. He was muscular, and had short hair like many of the Marines in town. “Hi. I’m detective Watson.”

  I nodded. “Hi.”

  He turned toward my mother. “You filed a missing person’s report about your daughter, Alexandra. She was abducted at the 7-Eleven, and…”

  “She turned up,” she said. “She’s right there.”

  He didn’t act surprised. He simply glanced at me, nodded, and then looked at my mother. “I suspected that might be the case.”

  “Okay. Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked.

  “Well. As you may imagine, I’ve got some questions about her disappearance, and about her reappearance, for that matter.”

  He looked at me. “Have you got a few minutes to answer some simple questions?”

  “Do I have to?”

  He shrugged. “You sure don’t. But, if you don’t, I may have to draw something up for interfering with a murder investigation. Then, I’ll have to arrest you, take you in, and you’ll be forced to answer questions in an interview, or in a court of law. I’ll let you think about that for a minute.”

  “Murder!” My mother gasped.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Murder.”

  “What do you want to know?” I asked.

  “Everything,” he said. “Who abducted you? Where’d they take you? How’d you get free? How’d you get home? I need descriptions of the abductors, and of any and all events that transpired during your time in captivity.”

  He looked at my mother. “And, Miss Hart, I have a few for you as well.”

  She returned a worried look. “Like what?”

  “Why didn’t you report that your daughter had been found?”

  “Some guys in a truck took me,” I blurted, hoping to get him to shift his focus to me.

  He turned toward me and pulled a notepad from his back pocket.

  “They blindfolded me, and took me somewhere, but I don’t know where. They kept me and some other girls locked in a room. Then, one night, the door opened, and they blindfolded us and led us outside. The next thing I knew, we were on the back of a bunch of motorcycles leaving. It was weird, really.”

  As I spoke, he scribbled notes onto the pad. When I stopped, he looked up. “That’s it? That’s your story?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He lowered the notepad and stared. “You were gone for what? A week?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, probably.”

  “And that’s your entire story?”

  “Yep.”

  “So, let me get this straight. Blindfolded, driven somewhere, and then taken in a room. Kept captive in the dark. Then, blindfolded, loaded on the back of a motorcycle, and hauled out?”

  I nodded. “That’s pretty much it.”

  “Get a look at any of the men who abducted you?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “None of them?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Not once?”

  “Nope.”

  “When they opened the door and handed you the blindfolds, you weren’t able to see what they looked like?”

  “There weren’t any lights in the room or in the hallway.”

  It was true. There weren’t. If he was there, he’d have noticed for sure.

  “When they fed you?” he asked.

  “Dark.”

  “And then, blindfolded and loaded onto what? Motorcycles?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  He chuckled. “With blindfolds on?”

  “Yep.”

  “And taken where?”

  “I don’t know. We were taken to a van, loaded into it, and driven home.”

  He shook his head. “Let me guess. Blindfolded?”

  “Yeah. Weird, huh?”

  “Would you recognize their voices?”

  I shook my head. “I doubt it.”

  “Let me ask you this. When you left. When you were led away to the motorcycles. Was there anyone else in the house other than the bikers that hauled you out?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I was blindfolded.”

  “Right. The blindfolds. Did you by chance keep the blindfold?”

  “No,” I said. “I threw it away. Have you talked to any of the other girls?”

  He put the notepad in his pocket. “I’m not at liberty to say. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

  I could tell by the look on his face that he had, and that he was frustrated wit
h all of us. The story was simple, and we’d rehearsed it several times. I suspected the other girls said the exact same thing.

  We didn’t hear anything. We didn’t see anything. It was that simple.

  “When you were at the 7-Eleven getting gas, you weren’t blindfolded, were you?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “So, from the time they grabbed you until the time they blindfolded you, you were able to see them, were you not?”

  “I was.”

  “Can you give a description?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Everything happened so fast.”

  “Bald, blonde, shaggy hair, crewcut, short, tall, tattoos, Hispanic, African American, White--”

  “It was a big blur.” I shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

  “Appreciate your time, Alexandra.” He nodded and then looked at my mother. “I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”

  She followed him to the door and shut it behind him after he left. As she turned the lock, I slumped into the couch cushion.

  “Jesus. That was nerve-racking.”

  “Do you think he believed you?”

  “No. I’m sure he didn’t. But there’s us, the girls who were there, and them, the guys who saved us. We’ve all got the same story. The rest of the people involved are dead. He can wonder all he wants, but he’s never going to find out the truth.”

  If he did, we were all screwed.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Cholo

  I felt like I was walking into an ambush. I came over the hill and glanced toward the house. As always, Alexandra was standing on the porch with her hands in her pockets, facing in my direction. I twisted the throttle back and sped toward the driveway fighting not to show up wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

  I hung my helmet on the handlebars and pulled my cap from between my legs. After tugging it down on my head, I stepped off the bike and brushed the wrinkles from my jeans.

  Halfway to the porch she met me with a kiss.

  I’d never enjoyed kissing women. Although I had, it was primarily something I either did while drunk, or immediately prior to their departure after a weekend fling. There had never been any meaning behind the kisses, and certainly no feelings attached with them.

  Kissing Alexandra was different. I fully understood, even after the first kiss, how powerful a kiss could be. The emotion that rushed through me when we kissed was reason enough to do it again, and again.

  As our lips parted, I wondered if she felt the same emotion.

  I glanced toward the front door and noticed it was pulled closed. I looked at her. “Is she here?”

  She nodded. “She’s inside.”

  “Do uhhm. When we…when we kiss,” I stammered. “Does it make you feel rubber-legged?”

  She dragged her fingers through her hair, pinning it behind her ears. Her head tilted to the side. “Rubber-legged?”

  Her hair looked good behind her ears, but I tried not to stare. I looked down at the tips of my shoes. “Yeah.”

  “You’re cute.”

  I looked up. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  She shoved her hands back into the pockets of her shorts and twisted her hips back and forth. I grinned at her nervous behavior as I continued to watch her with eager eyes.

  “It makes me feel wonderful,” she said. “My knees quiver and goosebumps come up on my arms.”

  “Good. I was hoping I wasn’t alone.”

  “You’ve never felt…are you not a big kisser?” she asked.

  “Never have been, no. I like it, though. I mean, with you. It’s pretty cool.”

  “Pretty cool? Yeah.” She chuckled. “You’re cute.”

  I shrugged.

  She held out her hand. “C’mon. Let’s go get this over with.”

  I followed her into the living room and sat down on the couch beside her. Since we had dinner together, it seemed that she was much more comfortable being in my presence. Seeing her comfort allowed me to relax a little, but everything was still new to me, leaving me feeling inexperienced and awkward.

  With her, every day was like the day that preceded a big fight, the day before Christmas, or the day before a big family gathering.

  I was apprehensive and excited at the same time.

  I liked it.

  “Nobody laugh,” her mother said as she walked into the room. Still angry about her visit to the clubhouse, I looked in her direction with a tight jaw and my fists clenched.

  Carrying a platter of cookies, she stepped in front of us. “Fresh baked. Have a few.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing?” Alexandra asked. “Cookies? Really? Are we twelve?”

  “You like my cookies,” Lucy said.

  Alexandra rolled her eyes and reached for the platter. Upon seeing the cookies, her eyes widened. “Ooh. Macadamia nut and white chocolate. Okay. I’m twelve again.”

  She grabbed three cookies and placed two of them on her bare leg. While nibbling the one she held, she motioned toward the platter.

  “Seriously. They’re awesome.”

  My mother made cookies infrequently when we were kids. When she did, my sister and I would devour them in no time.

  I followed Alexandra’s lead and grabbed three cookies. “Thank you.”

  She set the platter on the coffee table, grabbed a cookie, and sat down in the chair across from us.

  I bit into one of the cookies.

  Holy shit.

  I had to commend her on her decision to bake cookies and propose them for a peace offering. They were that good.

  Alexandra looked at me. “Good, huh?”

  Almost done with the second cookie, I nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “There’s no sense in rehashing what I said this morning,” her mother said. “But there are some things I want to say.”

  I poked the rest of the cookie into my mouth, looked at her, and nodded. “Okay,” I said over a mouthful of cookie.

  “I reacted like any mother would react. I was protecting my daughter, or so I thought. I realize now that there’s nothing I need to protect her from.” She looked at me. “Is there?”

  “Mother!” Alexandra hissed.

  I wiped my hands on the thighs of my jeans, and then set the last cookie down on Alexandra’s leg beside the other.

  “I’m not going to hurt your daughter,” I said.

  Her eyebrows raised. “That’s reassuring,” she said in a sarcastic tone. “What else would you say?”

  “Mother,” Alexandra snapped. “You said you were going to apologize.”

  She shrugged. “I did.”

  Alexandra glared. “You haven’t.”

  I reached for my cookie, took a bite, and began my half-assed explanation of how I felt.

  “Listen. I can see your reluctance to accept a 31-year-old biker as a good match for your 21-year-old daughter. I’ve never been in a relationship, because I’ve never wanted to be in a relationship, so I can’t give you any kind of statistics on how well I’ve done in the past, or how good I am at doing this.”

  I took another bite of the cookie. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know this: I took the time to consider how I felt about her, and whether it was based on anything but pure intentions or not. After a lot of thinking, a lot of being honest with myself, and some talking with the other fellas who are in relationships, I decided to tell Alexandra how I feel.”

  I poked the last bite of cookie into my mouth.

  Lucy leaned forward. “Have you ever hurt a woman?”

  She wasn’t going to like my answer, I was sure of it.

  “I’m sure I’ve hurt a lot of them, yeah. Like I said, I’ve never been in a relationship. That doesn’t mean I’ve never had sex. So, for me to sit here and tell you that I had sex with some chick, and then told her I never wanted to see her again – and that she went home happy – would be some pretty wishful thinking on my part.”

  “You’re a player,” she said.

  “A what?”

  “Player.
” She folded her hands together and leaned forward. “Someone who plays games with girl’s heads to get them to have sex with them.”

  “Listen. I’m not perfect. Hell, we’ve all made mistakes, you included,” I said. “But what I’ve done in the past doesn’t define me as a person.”

  “It sure does,” she said.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Both eyebrows went up. “What does?”

  I clenched my fist and pressed it to my chest. “What I feel right here.”

  “Good answer,” Alexandra whispered.

  “And this is a new feeling?” Lucy asked. “Something you’ve never experienced?”

  “It’s new, yeah. And don’t even ask me to explain it.”

  She stood, walked to the coffee table, and picked up two cookies. After she sat down, she took a bite, and then studied me as she chewed.

  She finished the first cookie without speaking, and then started on the second. I felt like I was on trial, waiting on the jury to decide what the verdict was. After exchanging a few looks with Alexandra, I reached for the coffee table and grabbed two cookies.

  I handed Alexandra one.

  Lucy let out a sigh, alternated glances between Alexandra and me, and fixed her eyes on mine. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

  “I won’t.”

  She stood up and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning. I’m anxious to see where this ends up.”

  “That makes two of us,” I said.

  “No,” Alexandra said. “Three.”

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Lex

  Adam’s attire was the same every day. He wore his jeans, black and white Van’s sneakers, a stark white tee shirt, and his black hat. Day in, day out, it was the exact same thing, every day. After a little begging on my part, he’d agreed to add some clothes to his wardrobe.

  Standing in the middle of the living room, he turned slowly so I could inspect him for change.

  Other than his face being cleanly shaven, I came up with nothing.

  “I’m not seeing it,” I said. “Even your watch is the same.”

  “My arms are bare.” He turned to the side and raised his eyebrows.

  I don’t know what I expected, but the subtle change he’d made had gone unnoticed until he mentioned it.

  “Your arms are always bare.”