by L. Loren
Dean walked back over to the window and stared out. Five people were standing in line outside the food truck, waiting to be served. Why couldn’t they take their asses to a brick and mortar establishment and sit down to eat, like normal people?
“Miriam may like you, but I don’t,” he mumbled as he stared at the long line of people waiting to eat at the pink food truck. “If I was the old me, I would’ve blown that truck up by now, with you in it.”
But, he wasn’t the old him. And he didn’t blow shit up now days unless he absolutely had to. He would figure out another way to get rid of her. Dean sat down at his desk and picked up his phone. He punched in his contact’s phone number and waited for him to answer.
“Rufus, hey. I need you to look up a permit for a food truck. Yeah, a food truck. The name of the truck is Pink Rain Delights. It’s usually parked on the corner of Jackson and Tillman. Yes. Oh, you’ve heard of it? I don’t care if she can cook. I need everything you can dig up on the owner. The dirtier the better. Yeah. Thanks.”
Dean ended the call. He was done asking nicely. Now, it was time to force her off his block. He stared at the digital calendar on his desk. Carlos Sanchez would be in the States in two days.
When he got there, he expected to have a private meeting with both Dean and Garrett. The safest place for that meeting to happen was at the P.I. Firm. He’d taken special precautions to keep his business safe.
Whenever he had a meeting that required extra security personnel, he hired look-outs and stationed them at the abandoned buildings surrounding the firm. The back alley was harder to guard.
There were too many nook and crannies back there. Dean had security cameras in the look-out buildings so he could see who entered and exited them from his office and from his home.
He had an inside man who worked down at the police station. For the right price, he kept his guys off Dean’s block. He’d had a sweet set up here, until she showed up Monday morning. With her, came a flood of people who wanted to eat what she cooked.
This week, people had been showing up every day, about an hour after she arrived. How had they even heard of her? How did they know she was parked in the parking lot of an old grocery store?
Dean pressed the intercom button. “Hey, Miriam.”
“Yes sir?”
“Have you heard any radio promotion or seen any T.V commercials for that food truck?”
“No sir. I haven’t.”
“Then how the hell are people finding her?”
“Probably social media. That’s what the young people use these days.”
“Social media, huh?” He didn’t know shit about social media. But he knew someone who did. “Is Garrett back yet?”
“Not yet.”
“As soon as he walks his ass through those doors, tell him I need him.”
“Yes sir. Wait, Dean. He’s coming in now.”
Perfect timing.
“He’s on his way up sir.”
Dean leaned back in his chair. He stared out the blinds to the truck parked across the street. The Pink Rain Delights. What fucking type of name was that? Who would eat at a place with a screwed-up name like that?
The elevator dinged. He faced forward as the elevator doors opened. Garrett exited the elevator carrying a pink bag in his hand. No, this motherfucker didn’t. The logo on the front of the bag confirmed the motherfucker had.
Garrett popped a fry into his mouth while entering the office. “Miriam told me you were looking for me. What’s up?”
Dean told himself to remain calm. “What are you eating?”
Garrett stared into his bag then back up at Dean. “Food. You know, that shit humans eat?”
“You ordered food from that fucking pink truck?”
Garrett shrugged. “It was the closest place to eat at.”
“Yet, you’ve been gone for an hour.”
“She has this little table area set up on the other side of the truck. If you stay and eat, you get free drink refills.”
Dean couldn’t believe his ears. “Motherfucker, we’re supposed to be trying to get rid of her ass, not bring her more business.”
“I’m glad you brought up her ass…”
“I didn’t bring…”
“It’s a nice one. Plump and round…”
Dean shook his head as Garrett continued describing the female. “Are you done?”
Garrett sat down in the chair across from Dean’s desk. “Yeah. But, only because I’m eating my chili-cheese fries.”
“That shit is going to give you a heart attack.”
“I know. But, you’ve got to try this.”
“No thank you. I actually care about my arteries. Did you learn anything while you were over there? Anything that’ll help us get rid of her?”
Garrett took a sip of his soda, which was also in a pink cup. “I learned that she’s making good money over there. I think we’re in the wrong business. She stayed busy the whole hour I was seated at the table. Plus, she’s not alone. There’s this kid, a teenager, he helps her out. He’s the one who kept coming to refill my cup.”
“So, she has a son?”
“Nah, I heard the kid talking on his cell. He was asking his mom’s permission to stay out late if customers kept coming. She’s probably his aunt.”
If he threatened her family, that would keep her away. If he kidnapped the boy until she moved that truck and promised to stay away, that would definitely keep her away. Shit, he was thinking like the old him.
“Did I mention she’s thick as hell?” Garrett asked.
“What’s with you and big girls?”
“Fuck one. I promise you’ll see why I’m obsessed with them. Once you go thick, everything else aint shit.”
Dean chuckled. “That thick chick, needs to be gone by Friday.”
Garrett ate another fry. Talking with his mouth full, he said, “I know. I did ask the kid if they’d be there Friday. He said yeah, from lunch until people stopped coming.”
“Shit.” Dean stared out the window and saw more customers pulling into the parking lot across the street. “It’s like these motherfuckers are multiplying.”
“She has nurses coming from Ingrams Hospital to eat lunch at her food truck. The women from that nail shop on Dixie Hwy came to her truck for lunch.”
“Yeah, this shit has to stop.” Dean turned to Garrett. “Miriam said she’s probably advertising on social media.”
“Two steps ahead of you.” Garrett dug into his bag. “Her napkins have her social media info on them.”
“You’re on social media, right?”
“My alter ego is. My name on there is Mr. D.”
“That’s dumb as hell.”
“It’s clever. The D stands for dick.”
“Pull up her social media profile for me, Dick.”
Laughing, Garrett pulled out his phone. It was actually good to see his friend laughing and joking. It wasn’t too long ago that they were killing and hiding. Now, they ran a somewhat respectable business. They’d come a long way.
“I can pull up her business profile. For her personal, I need to know her name.”
“It’s not on her napkin?”
“No. Bingo.” Garrett handed him his phone. “Pink Rain Delights.”
“Dumb ass name,” Dean mumbled as he stared at her business page. He scrolled down her page. “She’s had this business for over a year. Why is she just now parking that truck over there?”
“No idea.”
“She posts her daily specials each day. She has all five and four-star reviews.”
“The food is good.”
Dean read some of the comments on the page. “She gives local businesses discounts. No wonder they’re flooding down here, crowding up my block.”
“She didn’t give me a discount. I’ve got on a button down. Surely I look like a professional.”
“Dude, you’re covered in tattoos. You look like a former hitman. Which you are. Plus, it says here you have to tell her t
he promo code before you place your order.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
“There won’t be a next time. This is her last day here.”
“You got a plan?”
“I do. People won’t eat at her spot if I leave a post saying I found a spider in my sandwich.”
“Spiders are nasty. Roaches are worse.”
“Right.” Dean went to work, typing up his review.
“Let me read it before you post it. Since you are doing this shit under my account.”
“You don’t even have a picture of yourself on this account.”
“Hell no. Too many people want me dead. This is just where I go to meet horny chicks. I send them dick pics.”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
“You’re typing a lot. What are you saying?”
“You’ll see.” This was going to ruin her. He’d tried being nice. She told him to kiss her ass. This was her fault. “Here.” Dean handed Garrett the phone then leaned back and stared out the window while Garrett read the message.
“Yeah. This is definitely going to keep those germaphobe nurses from showing up. I guarantee you she won’t be out there tomorrow.”
Dean smiled as he stared out the window at the ugly pink truck. He was a man who was used to getting his way. The woman across the street was about to learn that the hard way.
“Good riddance.”
Order here: Dangerously Curvy Series
Taming of LaRue
Chapter 1 - Flashbacks and Tattoos
“I don’t want to survive. I want to live.” – Solomon Northrup
The unmistakable stench of burning flesh and the gut-wrenching screams woke LaRue from her slumber. LaRue “Church Mouse” Simmons lived in hell ever since that day. She was devastated as she attempted to untie the ropes, chains and zip ties that bound her father to that burning cross. The heat was too much for her to bear. Second degree burns marred her fingers, arms and torso. She could still feel her body burning like it was happening at the moment, but this was just another nightmare. One she couldn’t escape even in her waking hours. No matter where she was, it always haunted her. She tried as hard as she could to release Pops, but nothing she did could save him. She had failed to save his life as he had done for her so many years ago.
Pops, I am so sorry. I was too weak to save you. I would give my life to have you here.
She sat on the floor atop an air mattress with tears running down her face. Her situation was the direst that she had ever experience, in her young life, and that was saying something. LaRue had a hard life in the beginning, but the day Pops saved her, things started looking up. That is until the maniac lying beside her snoring, otherwise known as Bear, decided he wanted her and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Pops had warned her against being nice to him, but she didn’t listen. It was her nature to be welcoming to everyone, especially those who society deemed a menace. It was the reason she was drawn to Pops as a child. Society treated bikers like they walked around spewing Bubonic Plague on people. In her mind, she was no different than the outliers. In fact, she was the queen of them.
After wiping her tear-stained face, LaRue realized this was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Bear was knocked out, almost comatose. He had forgotten to put the chains back on her after he raped her for what seemed like the millionth time. Quietly she moved from the mattress, carefully filling the empty space with pillows. There was a heating pad on the floor that she plugged in and placed on the pillows to imitate body heat. He had always commented that he liked her warmth next to him. She looked to the sky and prayed that this trick would work. There was no way she could stay in this cabin another day. If she got caught, she would gladly slit her own wrists and join her father in the afterlife.
Anything to get away from him.
She pulled on his jeans and picked up his only pair of boots. His clothes dwarfed her, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t there for a fashion shoot. She was escaping captivity. Besides, he took all of her pants and shoes to keep her from escaping. What he didn’t know is that she would run naked into the woods if it meant getting away from him. Creeping to the front door, she gingerly turned the lock with the keys that dangled on a chain attached to his pants pocket. Bikers were notorious for wearing the chain attached to their keys and/or wallets to keep from losing them on the ride. She eased the door open and locked it from the outside. Now she could finally take a breath. He was locked in the prison he had placed her in a little over three months ago.
Before this opportunity, there was no way for her to escape the cabin. She had tried every trick known to man to no avail. No matter what he did, Bear wouldn’t be able to get to her now. He was trapped. LaRue used the string from the hood of the sweatshirt she was wearing as a belt and secured the baggy pants to her waist. She then placed her feet in the boots, but they were way too big. Finding some leaves in the yard, she stuffed the toes of the boots and secured them to her ankles as best she could before heading down the hill to her freedom.
She looked at the motorcycle sitting there just waiting for her to climb onboard, but she knew the noise from the engine would wake Bear. She couldn’t chance there being a secret door that she didn’t know about. Instead, she yanked the wire attached to the spark plug and shoved it in her pocket. That should buy her some time. LaRue wanted to be long gone before that monster realized she was not there.
She must have walked about seven miles before she saw a glimmer of civilization. She needed to be careful. People in this part of the Appalachian Mountains did not take too kindly to black women, especially those who looked like they had just escaped off of a plantation. She was wearing oversized clothes, her hair was standing on top of her head and she hadn’t bathed in weeks.
Flashes of Twelve Years a Slave ran through her head. Solomon was a free man and was taken captive by people he mistakenly trusted, just like her. LaRue moved stealthily just as her father had taught her when she was young. She knew how to watch her back, and her hands were deadly weapons when not bound with chains.
A chill ran down her back as she heard the sound of thundering pipes in the distance. She hid behind a tree and waited to make sure it wasn’t Bear. Yeah, she had his keys and pants, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have spares. A sigh of relief left her mouth as she saw three riders approaching the general store. She remained where she was. Bikers could be dangerous if they were 1%ers. She could find herself in more trouble than she was in with Bear if outlaws got their hands on her.
Luckily for LaRue, she recognized the center patch on the back of the riders’ cuts. Predators MC with the glorious logo and the purple and black colors. Her late father was the co-founder of the club and she had practically been raised in the Jacksonville clubhouse, joining as a member the summer she turned 18.
Oh thank God! My brothers!
Moving swiftly from her hiding place, she approached the muscle bound men who would make any other woman run for the hills. These men were intimidating to say the least, but to LaRue they were a sight for sore eyes, even if she didn’t know them personally. They were Predators, and that made them family.
“Brothers! I need your help.”
The men turned to look at her with shocked faces. The man with the piercing green eyes stared at her like she was a ghost. He seemed to recognize her, which was a good thing, except he didn’t say anything. He let the other two men do the talking.
“Well, what do we have here? Little darlin’, what in the world are you doing out here dressed like that?”
The man speaking had a commanding presence with his light brown eyes, jet black hair that was shaved on the sides but pulled back into a ponytail on top. He donned a full moustache and beard that grew down into a point at the top of his pecs. LaRue’s hands itched to braid it. His eyebrows were groomed so perfectly they reminded LaRue of a boomerang. He was sexy personified, but LaRue wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley. It was obvious he had a dark side that he en
joyed letting out to play. Ironically, the name Baby was patched on the front of his cut with Sgt at Arms underneath.
“It’s a long story that I don’t mind sharing later, but I need your help now. Please say you’re going to Jacksonville. If you can give me a ride, once we get there, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Mr. Tall, dark and handsome moved closer to her and started circling around her trying to make her nervous. He needn’t try. LaRue was well versed in the art of biker intimidation. Her father had taught her all about the MC life.
“Fuck you say? Who do you think you are? We aren’t taking you to our clubhouse. Our Sweet Lips wouldn’t stand for it.”
Sweet Lips? Uggh. LaRue rolled her eyes. She would never think about being a club whore. They got passed around from member to member waiting for the time they would be claimed, never understanding no member ever would make them an ole lady. Who could blame them? No man wants a woman who would willingly sleep with all of his brothers. LaRue laughed at the man’s comment. The name on his cut said Matrix with Vice President underneath. He was a looker if she had ever seen one. He kind of resembled that actor that played in those John Wick movies she loved so much.
“Listen, I would love to stand here and debate with you, but the asshole that murdered my father and kidnapped me should be awake by now. I am sure he is out looking for me.”
That got their attention and fast. The man with the permanent scowl on his face, who had been leaning against his Harley stood up straight enough for her to read his nametag. Ace – President. She was in the presence of the man who took her father’s spot. She remembered his face from an encounter in a biker bar a while back. Her friend Sharon had convinced her to go out, and just her luck, the meanest looking guy in the place came over to her vying for her attention. She had blown him off, but she remembered the grin on his face afterward. Scary!
LaRue looked him up and down to assess him. She loved her father more than anyone on the planet, and he was a damn fine president for the Predators. This Ace fellow had taken his place, and she wasn’t happy about it. It had nothing to do with him, per se. She just didn’t think anyone could take her father’s place, and besides, Pops should still be there running things.
