Beyond Redemption: Joker (Serpents MC Las Vegas Book 1)

by Barbara Nolan

  He eyed the half-filled bottle of Jack on the bedside table. Woken out of a dead sleep at midnight by a woman who twisted up his gut. A nice healthy swig of whiskey might be what he needed.

  He uncapped the bottle and retrieved a glass from the tray that contained an ice bucket and another glass. He poured three fingers into the tumbler and gulped it down.

  “You’re not into sharing?”

  “I don’t think Jack Daniels is good for a concussion.”

  “We really don’t know if I have a concussion, so I’ll take my chances.” She held out her hand. “I’ve done things far more dangerous.”

  That, he could believe, but he still filled the other glass with much less. “Drink it slow.”

  “Geez, for an outlaw biker, you sure are cautious.”

  “Like I said before, don’t want you puking on my bed.”

  They sat in silence as she stared into the amber liquid. “Why don’t you tell me about your wife?”

  Daisy’s question surprised him as the familiar tightness in his chest appeared. Desiree. He never thought of her without regret, without the suffocating feeling of knowing that he’d taken her life. Because of him, Derek lost his mother—a woman so innocent that she made the fatal mistake of trusting him to keep her safe—a promise he wasn’t prepared or able to keep.

  She lifted her head and stared into his eyes, but he stayed silent, and she was savvy enough not to ask again. Her gaze flicked to his cut draped over the back of a chair.

  “Aren’t you supposed to wear that all the time? Isn’t it, like, a rule?”

  Yeah sure, unless you wanted to stir up all kinds of shit with a rival club out of your territory. Joker’s main objective in Miami was to keep a low profile, but how would she know about the biker code?

  Chapter Eleven

  The Jack Daniels warmed Daisy. It probably should’ve made the nausea worse, but somehow it settled it like some potent, ancient elixir. Because she hadn’t eaten in hours, the strong liquor entered her bloodstream like a soothing drug through an IV drip.

  It’d been a long time since she’d had Jack Daniels. Just seeing the bottle brought back bad memories—memories of Viper and all the pain he’d inflicted on her, both physical and mental—but for some strange reason, tonight, it calmed her.

  Joker sipped at the whiskey, then concentrated on the glass like his next words would be the key to some monumental secret. And since secrets ruled her life, her heart kicked up, but she refused to look away. Control at all costs.

  “So—if you’re not gonna tell me who knocked you around, how about telling me what that little game was all about in the cabana with those drunk assholes.”

  Daisy couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her face. A perfect con was so satisfying.

  “You broke that guy’s nose, you know. He wasn’t very happy.” She enjoyed the furrowing of his eyebrows as he mentally assessed the whats and whys. “And I had to pay him extra because he couldn’t go to his audition the next day.”

  “They were actors?”

  “I always say, go with professionals if you want a job done right.”

  “What the fuck? So the whole thing was a setup to get me to—”

  “To get you to come to my rescue, yes. After that, it was easy.”

  “There had to be fifty people at that pool. Anybody could’ve stepped in.”

  “Cabana number five—secluded from most of the pool and in direct line of the outdoor bar. You already had eyes on that cabana, looking for Charlie, so when those guys started roughing me up, you were a perfect audience of one.”

  She watched as his mind put it all together.

  “Okay, but how’d you know I’d react and not walk away?”

  “Something your buddy Digger had said.”

  “Like what?”

  “He said you were changing, getting soft. His exact words were, ‘that fucker’s been acting like a pussy for a while. He’s not acting like a Raider anymore.’”

  Joker made a grumbling, growling sound. “I don’t know whether to be pissed off or complimented.”

  “It actually worked out perfectly.”

  “But why the whole big set up?”

  She sipped at the whiskey. “A story for another lifetime.”

  A story impossible to forget or push down. Daisy clamped her lips together and concentrated on the glass she held with both hands. The Jack soothed her stomach, but the tremor in her hands worsened. She thought she could handle his questions, blow them off all cool and collected, but some memories wouldn’t die. They burned a hole in your brain and then in your soul.

  Daisy had to keep this going, had to see it through—at least until she had the strength to leave. She inhaled deep enough to make Joker believe some big truth was about to be revealed. His back stiffened, and Daisy knew she had him right where she wanted him.

  “The guy who shadowed me today saw our interaction in the closet and told Rico he suspected you and I had a thing.” Lie. Rico could care less if she fucked every man in Miami as long as the results were in his favor. She’d begged him to let her do this job, but what he didn’t like was the whole scam she pulled beforehand and that her hatred of bikers had her making it personal.

  “Who’s Rico?”

  “My business partner.” Total lie. More like a psycho maniac-murderer.

  “He slap you around a lot?”

  “No.” Truth. Rico didn’t care enough to lose his temper, but tonight she’d egged him on. Told him all about how it was personal and made sure that he lost it completely. Although him hitting her so hard that she cracked her head on the glass coffee table might’ve been overkill.

  Daisy’s plan had worked. After their fight, he stormed out, and she took the money from his bedroom safe. One slip on his part—trusting her with the combination. The money was supposed to be her ticket to freedom. She had planned on a quiet, quick escape, but she hadn’t expected the overwhelming dizziness and the gushing blood from her nose—or the guilt of knowing Joker’s fate and not telling him.

  How could Joker sit only a few feet away from a woman and not know if the shit that came out of her mouth was a lie? He’d sussed out career criminals, guys who’d lied from the day they were born, and dangerous psychopaths who didn’t even know they were lying, yet this woman fucked with his brain every time.

  The only tell Joker detected was when he mentioned the club or something biker related. Other than that she was a brick wall of “go fuck yourself,” steady and focused as if the Jack made her more lucid, and whatever crap she was selling about some guy named Rico, if that was even his name, had to be bullshit.

  Rico? Had she watched too many Miami Vice reruns? And he doubted if this Rico was the jealous type. If he even existed, guys like him never cared about a woman or anything else enough to be possessive. Suspicious and distrustful, sure, but their first love was usually money. The money?

  “You tried to keep the money for yourself, huh?”

  “No.”

  “You know how I know you’re lying?”

  “How?”

  “Your lips are moving.” Joker flashed the evil grin he’d perfected over the years. “Stop the bullshit!” His gruff shout bounced off the carved wooden headboard.

  Daisy’s back stiffened, but her expression never faltered.

  “There’s no Rico. There’s somebody ’cause people like us always have somebody breathing down their neck, but there’s no Rico. And whoever you pissed off did this to you, or you fucked with their heads until they snapped. Doesn’t take too much to make a psycho snap, right, Daisy? Or Charlie, or whoever the fuck you are.”

  Joker hopped off the bed, searching the room. She’d dropped that big, oversized purse in the chair in the living room when she’d come in. Not too smart, babe. He stormed out of the bedroom, snatched up the purse, then returned with it dangling from his fingertips.

  Her eyes widened as he fumbled with the tiny clasp and then pulled the sides open. Wallet, makeup, s
unglass case, hairbrush, and gum, but no money.

  “Where’d you stash it?”

  “It’s somewhere safe.”

  “Fuckin’ liar.” He threw the bag on the floor and closed in on her.

  He slammed his hands on either side of Daisy’s head, ramming the wooden headboard against the wall, and again her eyes defied him. “And coming here is your way of setting me up too. Making whoever’s supposed to get that money think that I double-crossed them.”

  Joker leaned in closer, and she turned her head. He cupped Daisy’s jaw and made her look at him, made her see his rage. He was twice her size. If he lowered his hand a few inches, he could snap her neck. She knew it, and he knew it, and yet she showed no fear. Shit, her past must’ve been more fucked up than his. He wanted to scare her, to shake her, anything that would show him she was human and make her say one true word.

  “Well, you better think again, babe, ’cause I don’t care how good you fuck, I’m not taking the rap so you can steal my money and disappear. I got too much riding on this deal, and I’m not about to let you mess it up.”

  Daisy’s face crumbled; he hated it and loved it at the same time. Not too fucked up. Joker banged the headboard again, and she jumped.

  “Tell me what you did with the money.”

  “You’re right. I stole the money back from Rico.”

  “And now you think I’m gonna let you walk outta here. Gonna let you run off to Mexico while I hang, so you can sit on the beach and suck some guy’s dick?” He leaned in, bullying her, wanting to scare her. “Is that what you were gonna do with my money?”

  Daisy tilted her head, and for a split second, she faltered, and part of her shell cracked. “You can’t go back to that motorcycle club in New York.”

  “Why not?”

  “The two hundred thousand dollars wasn’t a payoff for us to stay out of New York; it was what your life was worth to your buddy Digger.”

  “What?” His heartbeat slowed and then hammered against his ribs.

  “And I went along with it because—”

  “You hate bikers.”

  She nodded her head and averted her eyes. “But after that day on the beach … I couldn’t go through with it.”

  “Were you the shooter?” He sucked in a breath, afraid to hear her answer.

  “No, out of town guys who work for Rico. After Rico got the money—you never would’ve made it out of the hotel tomorrow.”

  All Digger’s talk about letting him out of the club and the fucker had him doing the handoff for his own kill.

  “So, the money I gave you was my own death sentence.” Anger boiled in his gut. His eagerness to get out of the club made him careless.

  She nodded.

  “That is, if you’re not lying again.” Joker hated that a big part of him still didn’t trust her, but deep down, he knew she was telling the truth.

  “Why else would I take this risk? If I didn’t care about you, I could’ve taken off and let the hit go down.” She shuddered like the thought of him dying chilled her. “I’ve had enough hate. I want out too.”

  Daisy’s last two sentences made him pause, but he pushed it aside. He needed to know everything if he wanted to keep on living.

  “And what about the cartel? Is it true that Rico tried to screw them with counterfeit bills?”

  “Rico was supposed to take the money we got from you—to pay for your hit—and make things right with the cartel, but he’s so high on his own product, he thought he could get away with keeping your money. I heard him bragging on the phone to someone the other day.”

  “Fuckin’ with the cartel is a sure way to an early grave.” He’d seen the bloody bodies in the wake of deals gone bad. “Okay, so, if you wanted this money so badly, why didn’t you take off with it after our cabana meeting?”

  “Did you forget I had three of Rico’s men with me? They hate that he lets me make the deals. As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s not much loyalty where two hundred thousand dollars is concerned.”

  She had a point. All the stupid turf wars the Raiders had with other clubs were usually over some whacked-out idea of disrespect, but money? He’d seen guys lose their lives over much less. Daisy was playing a dangerous game with ruthless people, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  “I wanted to tell you so badly when you handed over the money, but I couldn’t chance my bodyguard knowing I tipped you off. You don’t know these people. They’re crazy.”

  “So, what now?”

  “I have the money in a safe place.”

  “So, you handed the money over to Rico.”

  “He locked it up in his safe, but I couldn’t waltz out with the money while he was there, so I started a fight with him. He took the bait, slapped me around, and stormed out.”

  “And then what?”

  “I grabbed the money and dropped my phone in a dumpster so he couldn’t track me. I wanted to come here and warn you, but I wasn’t expecting to collapse in your arms.” Daisy rubbed at the back of her head. “Seems that bump on the head was worse than I thought.”

  “And all of a sudden you wanna go straight?” He shook his head. “Sounds a little too fuckin’ convenient to me.”

  “When Rico told me you were a biker, I volunteered for the job. Making you think I cared about you and then flipping the script when you found out I was Charlie was all personal for me. I fantasized about the look on your shocked face, but you turned out to be so different than I expected.”

  “I don’t buy it.” Joker pushed off the headboard but stayed close. “Why now?”

  “I’ve wanted out for a while, but last night at Mambo you were so suspicious, and your instincts were right. I was conning you, and yes, I knew you’d get impatient and come looking for me. I wanted you to see me with Darius and play it off like nothing to mess with your head.” She focused on the bedsheets. “But it was something you said earlier that night. How you were tired of being around people you couldn’t trust. I’ve been feeling the same way. Then I got to thinking about our day on the beach, and if things had been different, maybe you and I could’ve worked. Instead of messing with your head, those thoughts messed with mine.”

  “And this hate for all things biker, where does that come from?”

  “I hoped by taking you down, it would even the score for Jessie.”

  “Who’s Jessie?”

  “My daughter.”

  Her lip quivered, but fuck him, he couldn’t help thinking she was lying again. Yeah sure, that made him a piece of shit person, but Daisy hadn’t been straight with him since the beginning. Hiring damn actors to set him up, screwing some nightclub manager to make him jealous, and the final fuck you?—finding out she was Charlie. Maybe it was shitty, but he didn’t believe her for one minute.

  “Yeah, right.” He twisted his lips at her. He wouldn’t let her do it to him again. “You probably got some other poor sucker waiting in the lobby to help you escape.”

  She motioned to the floor. “Give me my purse.”

  Joker handed it to her, and she rummaged through it. For half a second, he almost expected her to pull out a gun, not a Gucci wallet. She poked through the wallet like she was looking for a hidden treasure, then held a picture out to him.

  He glanced at the photo, annoyed at wasting any more time on another one of her scams. Then he looked closer. The child was beautiful. He guessed her to be about four or five with the same dark brown hair and eyes.

  He handed Daisy back the picture. “She could be anybody’s.”

  “She looks just like me.”

  “Yeah, she does, but that don’t make her your kid. She could be your niece, your sister … any female in your family.”

  “I guess I deserve your distrust.”

  “Ya think? You’ve lied to me from the minute we met. Not one fuckin’ thing you’ve done or said has been true. But I don’t care about your bullshit reasons or sad stories. I wanna know where that money is.”

  In his m
ind, the money belonged to him, and it would give him and his son a good start while fucking with Digger one last time. That kid was obviously related to her, so he’d use an old tactic that worked with even the hardest of thugs. Go after something they loved. Mother, brother, sister, even a pet, it didn’t matter; it always got results.

  “And if you don’t tell me where the money is, I go after that kid.”

  Daisy’s face paled, and she balled the sheet in her fists.

  “I got some great intel guys, and I also have enough of your DNA around this room to find out who you are, and then I find her.” He pointed to the picture, and for the first time he saw genuine emotion.

  “No, no.” She pawed at his arm, but he flung her off. He glared at her while selling his story. Truth, he knew a computer genius who could find anyone, anywhere, but as fucked up as he was, he’d never hurt a child. Of course, she didn’t know that.

  “You can’t find her.”

  “Believe me, I can, and I will.”

  Daisy looked away from him. “You can’t find her because she’s dead.”

  Silence surrounded them. Even she couldn’t be that screwed up to lie about a dead child, could she?

  Joker sat on the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t lie about something like that, right?”

  “I know you don’t trust me, but I would never lie about her.”

  He remained silent, forcing her to continue.

  “She was beautiful and sweet, and she deserved much better than I ever gave her.”

  Joker moved next to her on the bed, tucking her into his side. They lay in silence for a long while. He stared at the ceiling fan until his eyes tricked him into thinking the blades were going backward.

  She pulled the sheet over them, then settled against the pillows. “When I was little, I used to play this game with myself and called it: What if my life was different?”