Fearing The Biker

by Cassie Alexandra

He lowered his eyes and nodded. “No problem. Just clean up after yourselves.”

  “Asshole,” croaked Todd, trying to pull my arm away from his neck.

  “I told you it was just sex. She meant nothing to me,” I said loudly, and then smiled at the janitor. “My boyfriend. He’s so possessive. Gets jealous over the stupidest of things.”

  Shaking his head, the janitor turned and walked out of the bathroom.

  “Let me go,” demanded Todd, his spittle making a slobbery mess on my jacket.

  Scowling, I changed my position, putting him into a Sleeper-hold until he passed out. I then slid away from him, grabbed my travel bag, and walked out of the bathroom.

  “Where’s your friend?” asked the janitor, who was waiting near the Lady’s Room. “You two make up?”

  “Yeah, we did, actually. He’s coming,” I lowered my voice and smiled. “And that’s why you probably don’t want to go in there yet. He likes to finish without me.”

  The janitor seemed confused and then a look of disgust crossed his face.

  Chucking, I walked away and hurried down the hallway, locating another restroom. I went inside and quickly removed the fake goatee and the blonde wig, I’d been wearing. Then I removed the eye-glasses, the brown contact lenses, and the mole from my cheek. When I walked out of the bathroom, two minutes later, my jacket was stuffed into my travel bag and I wore a pair of gray work-coveralls with a baseball cap. As I made my way to the rental garage, I passed by Barney, who was still waiting for a cab. He didn’t even look my way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Slammer arrived, with the rest of the club, they placed me inside of an SUV, with two of the Prospects, and sent me back to Jensen. Meanwhile, the rest of the club drove back to the cabin, to confront Reaper and retrieve Raptor and Tank’s bikes. I learned afterward that the Devil’s Rangers had scattered, realizing their location had been compromised.

  “Bunch of pussies,” said Tank, several hours later. We were back at Slammer and Mom’s place and I’d just gotten out of the shower. We were standing in the kitchen, where he was making himself a couple of sandwiches. “I knew they’d be gone by the time we got back there. Just fuckin’ knew it.”

  I smirked. “Poor excuse for a biker club, huh?”

  “You got that right,” he answered, licking mayo off of his finger. “But then I wouldn’t expect anything less than from those assholes. It’s one reason why we’ve been rivals for so long. You can’t trust any one of them.”

  I sighed. “So, what now? Did Slammer mention anything more about that guy watching over me? Because, frankly, I’d rather just drive out to Shoreview and stay with Cheryl. I doubt that gang would find me there.”

  “You don’t want to underestimate them,” he said. “And now that Reaper wants you dead, you’re going to need extra protection.”

  “But that guy?” I asked, frowning. “I’m sorry but the thought of him being around scares the hell out of me.”

  “He won’t hurt you. Sure as shit he’d hurt anyone who tried to, though.”

  “Do we know for sure if he’s going to do it?”

  “No. Slammer is on his way back here, though. I guess The Judge didn’t want to meet at the clubhouse, so we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Wait a second - he’s coming here? Now?” I said, looking down at my shorts and top, realizing that I needed to change quickly. The air-conditioning unit wasn’t working properly and I’d slipped on an outfit I’d normally never wear in public. Only because it was too revealing. At least for me.

  “What’s wrong? You look cute,” he said. “It’s about time you wore shorts. It’s got to be eighty degrees in here. They really need to get that fixed.”

  “I know. Seriously, Tank, is he really coming to the house? Today?”

  Tank smiled. “You’re really that frightened of him? You should be worried about Reaper, not Jordan.”

  “Jordan?”

  “That’s his birth name. We call him The Judge, because of what he does, although, his verdicts are usually paid for.” Tank smirked. “Most of the jackasses he’s killed deserved what they got.”

  “I can’t believe you’re talking about death like it’s no big deal,” I said, leaning against the counter. “He’s paid to kill people. What kind of a guy can stomach doing that, whenever asked, without being crazy?”

  He shrugged. “Personally, I don’t think he’s crazy. See, it’s all about how you’re raised. His old man was a cold son-of-a-bitch who used to beat the fuck out of him, growing up. Heard he used to use acid as a way to discipline him. Growing up with a fucker like that would definitely change the way you viewed things. Hell, I don’t think he’s crazy. I just think he doesn’t care about people too much.”

  A noise from the other room startled us both.

  “Slammer must be home,” he said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

  “Or maybe Mom left work early,” I replied, walking out of the kitchen. She’d gone in a couple of hours ago, although she hadn’t wanted to leave my side. The kidnapping had really gotten to her.

  When I saw the stranger, in the living room, staring at photos on the mantle, I screamed for Tank.

  Tank exploded into the room, his gun out. “What is it?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten her,” said the man, his hands in the air.

  “You the Judge?” asked Tank, lowering his gun.

  “Or Jordan. Whichever you prefer,” he said, now staring at me.

  I couldn’t help but be surprised as I stared back at the man standing next to our fireplace. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t the tall, dark, and handsome stranger with the searing blue gaze.

  “Hello, brother,” said Tank, lowering his gun. He held out his hand. “Name’s Tank. Been looking forward to meeting you.”

  As Jordan reached over and shook Tank’s hand, I couldn’t help but to check out the rest of him. He was lean with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and muscular arms. He was obviously very athletic, which was needed in his line of… work.

  “You must be Jessica?” he asked, breaking my concentration.

  “Yes,” I croaked, turning red with embarrassment. “Sorry, dry throat.”

  He smiled. “I’d need a drink too, after what happened to you last night.”

  I laughed nervously, wanting to crawl under the couch and hide. I felt like a young teenager who was having a conversation with the star quarterback from her high school. “It was bad,” I agreed.

  “Well, you’re alive and that’s the main thing,” he replied.

  “Yeah.” I tore my gaze away from those baby blues and a smile that belonged on the cover of Esquire magazine, instead of the FBI’s “Most Wanted” list. It was then that I noticed the scars on his hands, which weren’t half as bad as I’d imagined them to be. “That’s what I keep telling myself.”

  “So, where’s Slammer?” he asked, sliding his hands into his jeans.

  Crap, he’d noticed me staring, I thought.

  “Slammer should be here any minute. You want something to drink? A beer? A soda?” replied Tank.

  “I’m good,” he said, looking at his watch.

  Tank waved his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to finish my sandwich. You’re not hungry or anything?”

  “No. but thank you,” he answered.

  “Okay. You two should probably use this time to get to know each other anyway,” said Tank.

  Jordan frowned. “Oh really?”

  Realizing his blunder, Tank laughed. “I meant, she should tell you about Reaper, since he’s obviously targeting anyone associated with Mud’s death.”

  Jordan looked at me. “That’s probably a good idea. I know his background, but it wouldn’t hurt to know more about his personality.”

  “Uh, sure,” I said, a little anxious that Tank was leaving me alone with Jordan. Although I wasn’t as terrified of him anymore, he still made me nervous. I just wasn’t sure if it was because
of my reaction to him as an assassin or… a man.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tank left the room and we sat down, with Jessica on the sofa and me on a recliner. She then began telling me about the kidnapping.

  “I never expected them to follow me, like that,” she said, after explaining how Stryker had confronted her in front of the house and then how the Devil’s Rangers had cornered her on the street. Her eyes looked haunted as she relived the moment. “And then they shot this guy, in broad daylight. He was just an innocent bystander.”

  “I’ve learned to expect anything and everything,” I said. Although, admittedly, I hadn’t expected a girl like Jessica to be Slammer’s step-daughter. She looked more like “The Farmer’s Daughter”, with her honey-blonde hair, large hazel eyes, and cute splash of freckles across her nose. The fact that she was wearing white cutoffs and a yellow checkered shirt, tied at the waist, emphasized it even more.

  “Believe me, I won’t make that mistake again,” she answered, letting out a ragged sigh

  “So, is that when you met Reaper?”

  “No. That happened after we got to the cabin.”

  As Jessica explained what happened next, she crossed her legs and I found myself staring at her slender ankles and then her feet, which I even found oddly sexy. Especially since I didn’t consider myself a foot guy.

  “Is there something on my ankle?” she asked, as I stared at her red-painted toenails.

  I tore my gaze away. “Sorry. No. I was just thinking about what you were telling me.”

  “Oh.” She laughed nervously and I could tell from her expression, that she was anxious being alone with me.

  “Do I make you nervous?” I asked her.

  Her mouth opened in surprise and then she blushed again. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

  “Don’t be. I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know,” she said quickly.

  The look in her eyes told me otherwise. I decided not to press it. “So, what can you tell me about Reaper?”

  She bit her lower lip. “He’s big, muscular, and has these tattoos.” She described them to me.

  “Skulls and the Grim Reaper.” I smirked. “Not too original. So, what can you tell me about his facial features and hair?”

  “He has long brown hair. He wore it in a braid, down his back when I saw him. Oh, and he has this scar under his eye. His left one.” She dragged her finger down her cheek. “Right here. It’s white.”

  “How tall would you say he was?” I asked, although I knew all of those details. I just wanted to watch her talk. Just watching her lips move was fascinating.

  “I don’t know. Six-and-a-half feet?” She smirked. “The guy was taller and even bigger than Tank. I don’t know, maybe he takes steroids?”

  “Might explain a lot more than his muscles,” I replied. “So, you went after him with your belt-buckle?”

  She shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Yeah. I mean, it didn’t do much other than to piss him off. Obviously. Now he wants to kill me.”

  “I’m pretty sure that he was planning on killing you before that happened. But, you got away.”

  “Yeah. I got away.”

  “Twice.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m impressed. You foiled them twice,” I smiled. “You’re very clever.”

  “I don’t know about being clever. I was just lucky that Raptor and Tank showed up.”

  “Yeah but you still got out of that cabin. If you wouldn’t have gotten that far, I doubt I’d be talking to you now. That was quick thinking on your part.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, looking embarrassed. Jessica, apparently, didn’t like compliments. “Did you hear about Raptor?”

  “No. What about him?”

  “He was shot. In the arm.”

  I hadn’t heard that part of the story. “Is he okay?”

  “Yes.” She explained what had happened.

  “Good to know he’s okay.”

  “So, he’s your step-brother?”

  I smirked. “Apparently.”

  “He’s nice. So is his wife, Adriana,” she replied. “And their son, he’s adorable. Have you met Sammy?”

  “No.”

  “Oh,” she said, smiling. “He’s sweet but definitely a handful.”

  “I hear that runs in the family,” I said, smiling slowly.

  She laughed nervously. “Oh, you have a sweet side?”

  “Me? No. I meant Raptor’s side of the family,” I said, joking.

  Her smile fell. “Obviously, in your line of work, sweet isn’t a good requisite for being a murderer.”

  The way she said it made me wince. “I only kill those who I agree deserve to die.”

  “How do you determine whether or not they truly deserve to die?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “By their history.”

  “And that’s why they call you The Judge? Because you’re the one determining their fate?” she asked, frowning.

  “For the record, I didn’t give myself that nickname. And… I only accept jobs where I feel the target deserves to die,” I answered, wondering why I felt that I even needed to defend myself.

  “In other words, you’re trying to play God,” she accused.

  My eye twitched. “No, but I’m doing what God should do. Getting rid of the scumbags that prey on the innocent.”

  “How do you know that he doesn’t already have a special plan for the people that you are targeting?”

  “How do you know that I’m not part of that special plan?”

  She smiled. “Touché”

  The sound of the garage door opening put an end to the conversation.

  “Sounds like Slammer is back,” she said.

  Tank walked back into the living room and repeated the same thing. Then he sat down next to Jessica and I found myself wondering what their relationship was.

  “How was your sandwich?” she asked him.

  “Good. Could use some dessert. I miss Frannie’s apple pies. Going to have to get her to make another one soon.”

  “I know, they’re delicious,” said Jessica, still watching me out of the corner of her eye.

  Slammer stepped into the foyer, from the garage, throwing his keys into some kind of metal box. “Hey, I’m home.”

  “Hi, Pop. The Judge is here,” replied Tank loudly.

  Slammer walked up the steps, smiling. “I figured. I saw the bike in the driveway. How’s it going, Son?” he asked holding his hand out to me. Although Slammer and I had never met face-to-face, I’d seen him a couple of years ago on the street. He was looking much more haggard and had put on a few extra pounds. Other than that, he still reminded me a little of the actor, Burt Reynolds.

  I stood up and shook it. “Not too bad. I’m a little curious as to why you wanted to meet in person.”

  He smiled up at me. “For one, I think it’s about time we met. I have to say – you are not what I expected.”

  I arched my eyebrow. “Really? How so?”

  “I think he means someone more… ordinary looking,” said Jessica.

  “What she means is that you’re too goddamn good-looking to be a killer,” said Slammer, chuckling. “Am I right, Jessica?”

  Blushing, she shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “Raptor is a pretty-boy, too,” said Slammer. “If there was one thing that Mavis did right by you boys, it was sharing her genes. She was once a very beautiful girl.”

  “You mentioned there was another reason that you wanted to meet directly,” I replied, wanting to change the subject from my looks.

  “Obviously, you’ve met Jessica,” he said, nodding toward her.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  He sighed. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’d like to hire you to protect her.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Protect her?” said Jordan, looking surprised. “As in ‘personal security’?”

  “Yes,” said Slammer. “That’s what I’m talking abo
ut.”

  “I’m by no means a bodyguard. You know what I do,” he answered.

  “You eliminate problems. Right now, we have a big one with that dickhead, Reaper. I’ve received word that he has a major boner right now for killing Jessica. I need to keep her safe.”

  “Can’t the club protect her?” he asked.

  Embarrassed that Slammer was asking him to do something he obviously didn’t want to do, I had to say something. I didn’t want to be forced on anyone. “Wait a second. I don’t want the club to protect me,” I interrupted firmly. “I don’t expect you to be my bodyguard, either. In fact, I think I should go to the police and tell them what happened. They’ll arrest him, once I give my statement, and tell them exactly what happened.”

  “See what I mean?” said Slammer, smirking. “She thinks if we go to the cops, they’ll put him back in prison and life will be rainbows and unicorns.”

  Jordan’s lip twitched. “So, what are you thinking? Did you want me to sit outside of Jessica’s house until they come for her? Then kill them one-by-one?” he asked dryly.

  “No. I just want her out of Jensen until things settle or until we take down Reaper, ourselves. Obviously, he’s not coming for her directly. He doesn’t want to risk getting thrown back into prison. He’ll send his club after her, like he did before. Until then, I need her to be somewhere safe and with someone that I trust.”

  “I can stay with Cheryl,” I said. “Nobody will find me in Shoreview.”

  “That’s not good enough. Cheryl is related to your mother and they’ll check there, sooner or later,” said Slammer.

  “Is Cheryl in danger?” I asked, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. I hadn’t even thought about that.

  “Not anymore. In fact, Cheryl, and your mother, are going on a ten-day cruise,” replied Slammer. “I’ve already arranged it. They’ll both be somewhere safe as well.”

  “Good idea,” said Tank. “Although, I’m surprised Frannie would agree with it.”

  “She has no choice,” said Slammer. “Her life is more important than her job at the nursing home.”

  “Why don’t I just go with them on the cruise?” I replied. “I’ll even pay for it myself.”