Page 15 of Biker's Property

“I didn’t hear about you bringing a hooker,” she says in a raspy voice.

Once I hear the voice,I realize I’ve met her before. Fuck.

Seraphine Blackwood gives Joslin a once-over.

“She’s not a hooker. Watch your mouth.”

“What are you doing out here so late?”

Jairus married her sister, Magnolia. I don’t want to tell her I just saw him dead in the damn desert with his head cut off.

“Does it matter? Your job is to get us a fucking room, not pester me with questions.”

The good thing about being an ex-con — especially one with known affiliations to the Aryan Brotherhood — is that people listen to me. Only my brother knows that I feel nothing but deep shame for the deal I had to cut in prison to ensure my survival. That’s just the way prison was — whites against blacks against Hispanics. And a couple crazy Asian motherfuckers who you knew could put your eyes out with their thumbs if you went near them.

Seraphine straightens her back and puts out her cigarette.

“Fine. I’ll get you and your girl a king-sized room. But the Blackwoods are religious. They don’t like funny business going on in their motels.”

“She’s not a fucking hooker, Seraphine. Now get me the room key before I turn you into one tonight.”

Seraphine rolls her eyes and starts clicking away on the computer. Why the hell does she have fingernails that long and why on earth are they banana yellow with those little minion creatures on them…? I look away from her terrifying nails and over at Joslin, who appears to be fuming with anger. I’m hoping she’s just tired.

“Fuck, can you hurry it up, Seraphine?”

“Has anyone told you that you’re a pig lately, Ryder?”

“Can I give you $100 to be quiet about the woman?”

Seraphine looks downright gleeful. “The woman who isn’t a hooker?”

“I have other reasons to be quiet about her.”

“She a Mexican?” Seraphine asks, her glee increasing.

Joslin still doesn’t answer.

“No. She’s not a Mexican. She’s just… special to me.”

Seraphine laughs. “You are full of shit. If I have orders to keep her here, I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

“What’s going on is none of your damn business.”

“You’re all a bunch of bullies.”

“You make more money here than you did shaking your ass in Amarillo,” I grumble. “Now give me that room key.”

She slides the room key across the motel counter and I strongly consider snapping her nails off instead of grabbing the keys. Joslin reaches for the room keys, stopping me from doing anything rash by pure accident. Seraphine gives me an irritated look like I pushed her a little too far. She turns her attention to Joslin.

“Don’t let him fool you, sweetheart,” Seraphine says with that raspy drawl. “He’s racist as the rest of them. He made a deal with the KKK in prison.”

Rumors have a way of changing when they get passed around. I grab Joslin’s arm and storm towards the motel staircase, ignoring her comment.

“You’re welcome, Ryder.”

I flip her the middle finger and walk upstairs. The women affiliated with this club are some of the most unhinged women I’ve ever met. They operate on nothing but pure resentment for no reason at all. Joslin yanks her arm away from me once we get out of Seraphine’s sight.

“What?” I growl at her. It’s bad enough dealing with Seraphine’s mentally unstable behavior, the last thing my ass needs right now is Joslin acting up.

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