by Jessie Cooke
“Okay,” he said, looking up at Dax. “It might do me good to get away from here, for more than one reason.”
16
“So you left the party with a guy on a Harley, I heard?” It had been two days since the party Donna talked Zoe into going to, but it was the first time they’d seen each other since. Zoe was still a little pissed off at her for leaving her alone with a bunch of wasted guys she didn’t know. Donna didn’t know her. She didn’t know how capable Zoe was of handling herself. A woman who was less used to men trying to take advantage of her could have ended up raped…or worse…around those losers.
“Yeah, I left to get away from some creep that wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Zoe was filling glass sugar dispensers and her hand was shaking so hard that she was getting more on the tray than in the container.
“Sorry. Who was it?”
“Some creep named Matt. Where did you go, anyways?”
“Matt Ronstadt?”
“I don’t know his last name. He was a punk.”
“He’s a rich punk. His father is a big-time defense attorney and his mother is some kind of doctor. Matt is in his third year of medical school.”
“Good for him, bad for the patients that will have to deal with him, especially the female ones. He was a pervert.”
“He was probably just wasted. He’s usually a nice guy.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. She’d seen enough substance abuse to know that the substances rarely change your personality, they just take away your inhibitions. The ugly thoughts are already there; the substances just highlight them. “Whatever. I still can’t believe you just left me like that.”
Donna set her face and lips in a pout. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I was in the pool house with this guy I really like and we got carried away…”
“I don’t want to hear the details,” Zoe said. “Just don’t invite me to any more parties, okay?”
“Are we still friends?”
“Work friends,” Zoe said, filling her last container. She put the lids on them and as she carried the tray from table to table, setting them out, she saw a motorcycle pass by outside the window. She stopped what she was doing to watch it. It wasn’t Levi, but he was instantly back on her mind. That morning, after her weird sex dream, she’d had to look him in the eye and even try to make small talk with him as he insisted on feeding her toast and coffee and driving her in to work. She could tell by the look on his face that he thought she was being weird, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she looked at him, she had seen him naked and sweaty…and hard…She felt like a pervert, especially with the photographs of his dead girlfriend watching over them. She couldn’t breathe until they were out of that apartment and since then, she’d done her best not to think about it, or him. Her subconscious still had other ideas. Her dreams were getting so erotic that if she wrote them down, she could probably sell them to a porn company for a lot of money. She told herself that it wasn’t Levi. It was stress and the fact that it had been a long time since she’d been touched by a man. But that didn’t explain the fact that it was always Levi in her dreams; and no matter how hard she tried, he still consumed her thoughts at the oddest times.
“Hey, Zoe, can I get a warm-up over here?” Zoe looked at the man in the booth. He was a regular who talked slowly and had a big scar and indentation in his forehead that looked like he’d been hit with a hammer or something. He was always well-dressed, too well-dressed for their neighborhood, Zoe thought. She didn’t know anything about him, though. For all she knew, he could be a pimp or a john, or even a drug dealer. They didn’t all wear colors, as she well knew. Zoe doubted this guy was into anything like that, though, just based on nothing more than a feeling. The man was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, working on his computer or just looking like he was in deep thought. When he did speak, he was always polite and he was Zoe’s most generous tipper. He usually only had coffee and for a dollar cup of coffee, he’d sometimes leave her a ten-dollar tip.
“Sure Mr. Johnson, coming right up.” Zoe left the tray on the table where she stood and went to grab the coffee pot. She took it back over and as she poured it, she noticed the glossy photos of motorcycles on the table in front of him. “Buying a bike?” she asked and smiled.
He smiled back and said, “A few. I own a motorcycle warehouse. We sell bikes and parts.”
“Oh,” Zoe felt her face color as she thought about wondering if he was a pimp. “That’s cool. Here in Memphis?”
“Yes,” he said with a smile. Zoe was pulling the pot of coffee back when he did and just as his teeth flashed, his eyes changed from a deep, sea-foam green to dark brown. Zoe’s hand shook as she let out a sharp gasp and the coffee shook out of the pot onto the table. Mr. Johnson pushed his chair back and when Zoe looked at him again, his eyes were back to normal…except now he was looking at her like she was crazy.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Johnson. Did the hot coffee get on you?”
He finally took his shocked eyes off her face and looked down at the front of his shirt and tie. “No, it was just on the table. Are you okay?”
Zoe had sat the pot down on the table and was pulling napkins out of the dispenser when Donna appeared at her side with a towel. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.” She looked back at Mr. Johnson. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I got this little shooting pain in my elbow…” She was reaching, but his face softened and he said:
“That’s okay, Zoe, no harm done. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Just embarrassed. I’m so sorry. Let me buy you a piece of pie or something to make up for it?”
He chuckled and patted his middle. “No, dear, my wife would skin me alive. She has me on a strict, low-everything diet. The coffee and occasional pancake is my dirty little secret; that’s why I travel all the way across town to indulge so she doesn’t find out. I’m afraid she might be able to smell pie on my breath.”
Zoe smiled. “Well then, I’m at least paying for your coffee. I’m sorry…again.” She finished cleaning up the mess on his table and gave him a new cup, filling it carefully this time. After she put the pot away and the dirty cup and saucer under the counter she told Donna, “I’m taking my break, okay?”
“Sure, hon.”
Zoe took off her apron and slipped out the back, gulping in the fresh air. Her head was spinning…What just happened in there? She dropped down in the little lawn chair and rested her head back on it, closing her eyes. Things had been so weird lately, starting with the night that she witnessed the accident, and Krissy’s death. First, there was the tingling sensation she got when Krissy touched her, and then the dreams…first about the accident and watching Krissy die…and then about Levi. And then, she’d seen Levi on the porch of that old house on Victory Lane and then again in an entirely different part of town while she was at a party that she never should have gone to…and now this. She tried to tell herself that Mr. Johnson’s eyes changing was her imagination, but she knew it wasn’t. She’d seen it, and not only the color had changed…but they had gone from soft and friendly, to cold and scary. It was unreal…but it was real…wasn’t it? If she was still using drugs, she might think she’d got ahold of some bad stuff. But she’d been clean and sober for over two months, so either weird things were really happening, or she was simply losing her mind.
“Hello there, beautiful.” Before Zoe opened her eyes, her heart began to race. Her body tried to sink down in the chair and become as small as she could possibly make it. She peeked out through her lashes, trying to postpone opening her eyes and looking directly at him, but he was standing over her and his pale blue eyes were locked on her face.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him, sitting up straight in the chair and making sure her legs were underneath her in case she needed to run.
“Looking for you, babe. You disappeared on me.”
“I told you I was leaving, Patrick. I told you I wasn’t going to use anymore and I wasn
’t carrying any more shit for you.”
He smiled. She remembered a time when she loved his smile. Now, it only sent a feeling of dread through her. He’d never laid a hand on her, but she’d seen what he was capable of, more than once. “You’ve said that before. You always come crawling back. I just thought this time I’d save you the trouble and come get you. Oh, and that money you still owe me.”
Zoe shivered. The money was exactly why she’d tried so hard to avoid him. He’d given her a few little baggies of meth to sell on the streets and while she was sleeping, they’d been stolen, along with her backpack and most of her belongings. Patrick insisted she owed him the thousand dollars that he claimed it was worth on the street. “I’m not going back to that life, Patrick. I’m clean. I’ve been clean for over two months. I’m going to meetings and I have a job and I’m starting school soon. I can start making payments to you on the money as soon as I get my student aid…”
His smile grew broader and she knew that she’d made a mistake. “School? Where are you going to school, babe?”
“Don’t call me babe. You gave up that right when I caught you screwing the night manager at the motel. He was cute, but that was no excuse.”
Patrick laughed. “I was wasted and his girlfriend was in the bathroom.”
“Whatever. Please just believe me, Patrick, I’m finished with that life. If you still insist I owe you that money, I’ll pay it, but I don’t have it today.”
“You know what I think? I think you’ll be back, broke and begging me to hook you up with something that’ll make you feel pretty before you ever get that money paid back. I have a proposition for you, though. You can work that money off and I’ll give you your taste for free, the way I used to. Just think about how much money we could make off those college kids…”
“I’m not doing it, Patrick.” Zoe stood up. “I have to get back to work. As soon as I get some money, I’ll find you.” She turned her back on him and he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“I think time is running out on that money, little girl. I think you either bring it to me by the end of the week…or you agree to my sweet deal. The clock is ticking, though…and don’t think quitting this shitty job will make it so I can’t find you. I’ll visit that sweet old grandma of yours…if it comes to that.”
“My grandfather is a cop.”
“Your grandfather is a computer geek, and besides, he won’t be home when I go calling. See you soon, babe.”
Patrick let go of her arm and she hurried back into the restaurant with the sound of his ominous warning in her head. If she was smart, she’d go straight to her papa and tell him all about Patrick…but she’d have to tell him what part she took in Patrick’s business all those years and she didn’t have the heart for that. Papa was just starting to come around. It would break her heart to disappoint him again.
17
Levi sat at the bar in the Skulls clubhouse, drinking a beer and waiting for Dax to get out of a meeting and show him around. So far he’d been hit on by a forty-something-year-old club girl and one that looked barely legal. He’d turned them both down. He already had two women driving him crazy. One he’d never be able to see or touch again, and the other…he just wasn’t sure what to think about his sudden borderline obsession with that one.
“Hey. Who’s winning?”
Levi glanced over at the man that had just taken the stool next to him. He was wearing a kutte like the rest of the guys in the club, but otherwise he looked like he was trying to be Crocodile Dundee. He had on jeans and boots, but his boots weren’t black riding boots like the rest of them wore, his were brown-and-white cowboy boots with bumps all over them…Ostrich skin, maybe? His jeans were Wranglers, not Levi’s, and he wore a black “Croc” hat, like the one worn by the actor in the Crocodile Dundee movies. It even had an alligator skin band…Or maybe it’s snake? He had dark, curly hair sticking out from under the hat and what looked like two or three days’ worth of dark stubble on his face. His eyes were the darkest green color that Levi had ever seen and even though he was smiling, the smile on his face didn’t seem to reach them.
“Hey,” Levi said, looking back up at the soccer game on the TV above the bar. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“S’all right. I hate soccer anyways. Name’s Hunter.”
“Levi.” The guy stuck out a big, tanned hand, so Levi shook it and tried to focus on the television again. He still wasn’t interested in the soccer game, but it was preferable to small talk in his opinion.
“You’re not a Skull,” the guy said, stating the obvious. Levi was wearing his Defenders kutte.
“Nope.”
“Strange, seeing a guy with a different patch sitting up at the bar here.”
“I guess. Kind of strange to meet Crocodile Dundee here too.”
Hunter threw his head back and laughed. “I been called a lot of things in my life, but that’s a new one. So, what’s a kid from...” Hunter made a production out of looking back at Levi’s patch, “Tennessee doing so far east?”
“Waiting for Dax,” Levi said.
“Oh yeah? I’m here to see Dax myself. I’m early. Our appointment isn’t for an hour or so.” Hunter picked up the beer and the shot the prospect had sat in front of him. Levi didn’t hear him order it, but the prospect must have already known what he wanted. Hunter threw back the shot and chased it with a big gulp of the beer before saying. “Thought I might spend some time with one of the ladies while I waited.”
Levi glanced over at the group of club girls in the back of the room, shooting pool. He wasn’t sure if the Crocodile guy was looking for validation, or what. “Okay,” was all he said.
Hunter laughed again. “You’re a big talker, aren’t you, Levi from Tennessee?”
“Sorry, not much for small talk.”
“I feel you,” Hunter said. “Me neither, goes along with my job though. I spend hours, sometimes days, just watching and waiting in silence.”
It was Levi’s turn to chuckle. He’d met the guy all of two minutes before and he hadn’t shut up yet. “Yeah, what’s your job?” he asked.
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
Levi raised an eyebrow and looked at the front of the guy’s kutte. One side had his name stitched on it and the other had a patch that said “Nomad.” He thought it was strange that an MC would have a bounty hunter on the payroll. “You here looking for a bounty?”
“Nah. Dax and the guys are my friends and business partners. They help me, I help them. It’s a win/win situation.” Hunter tapped the bar and the prospect brought him another shot, and the bounty hunter kept talking, practically non-stop about nothing. He talked about soccer, football, motorcycles, and women. Levi had a headache from listening to him, but since he figured the guy wasn’t going to shut up anyways, he decided to satisfy some of his curiosity by asking:
“So, how does a bounty hunter hook up with an MC?”
Hunter’s jovial mood suddenly darkened and for a few minutes as he sipped his beer, Levi thought he wasn’t going to answer the question. Finally, he picked up the bottle and drained it and then he said, “A few years back, I was tracking a murderer. This was one of those dangerous guys that should have never made bail in the first place. My guess is the judge was paid off by the club he worked for. He was a nomad for an MC out of New York and in between jobs for his club, he liked to kill pretty prostitutes, and anyone else that got in his way. They only had enough evidence to arrest him for two, but they think he’d killed as many as thirteen by that time. My boss, who loves his money and wants the fugitives brought in alive so that he can collect it, told my partner and me to shoot this guy on sight. He was just pure evil. So, after almost a year of looking for this dude, my partner Brett and I tracked him to a rundown motel in Connecticut, found out which room he was in, and got a key from the desk clerk. As we snuck up to the room, we heard the phone ring inside. My partner thought that it would be the perfect opportunity to catch him distract
ed. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, though. I wanted to call it off and wait in the parking lot in our SUV until he came out. His bike was parked out front. I figured he’d have to come out that way eventually. My partner was the senior man on the job, though; we did things his way most of the time, and he wanted to go in. We stood on either side of the door and Brett slid the key in the lock. As soon as it beeped, he pushed the door open with his gun ready, but the guy inside was already unloading his weapon. I got off a few shots before realizing that Brett was lying in the doorway with blood coming from his chest.”
“Damn,” Levi said. “Did he make it?”
Hunter tapped the bar again and his dark green eyes seemed to go even darker as he said, “No. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.”
“Sorry, man. I’ve been lucky enough so far not to have to watch a brother die.” Levi thought about Spider…but that was a different situation entirely. Spider had been the target.
“He was my actual brother. Brett and I both worked for my cousin, who runs the bail bonds company. We were the ones that he sent after the badasses, and by the time Brett died, we’d captured a dozen or more of the most wanted men and women on the east coast. We were a hell of a team. I was watching my brother die when I realized the scumbag killer had gone out the bathroom window.”
“Shit.”
He nodded and took a drink of the new beer in front of him. “I got off a couple more shots as he fired up his bike and took off. There was blood all over the bathroom and parking lot, but I found out the day of my brother’s funeral that the fucker wasn’t dead, when another prostitute was murdered.”
