Page 12 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

“He won’t hurt you,” I add, hoping my words help. “We’re just trying to help.”

I swear Vickie makes a strange noise, but I don’t pay her any attention. I convince myself that I’m just imagining things. Vickie might not be convinced that we mean well, but when the tall girl stands next to Rage, also known as Deacon Hollingsworth, and the other two follow.

“Names,” Rage says. The Hollingsworth boys were raised to be businessmen – always smooth and calm, strangely reassuring, even when you suspect manipulation of some kind.

The tall woman says, “I’m Tayanita. That’s Yoki and Meli.”

He nods, mentally cataloging their names, although they aren’t very long, it’s hard to remember how the unusual syllables all fit together.Yoki. Meli.Hm. Rage gives it to the girls straight.

“We’ll take you to Oske first. I’ll send Scrap back with a truck for the rest of you. Stay put. It’s still 85 out there and you don’t have a drop of water or any ability to survive. You run… you’re dead.”

I look at Vickie, because if there’s one person in this room who I already know would ignore that warning, it’s her. But she’s still looking at the ground, like pretending she doesn’t recognize me will change her situation. No, ma’am. This is your worst goddamn nightmare. The man you fucked and robbed five years ago is back… and by the end of the tonight, he will have total control over every aspect of your life.

… As long as Southpaw agrees. And why wouldn’t he agree to what I want? I’ve done everything he has ever asked for the cluband never asked for anything in return. He dangled me over the flames of our shared vice like it was nothing. The least he could do is give me some reward.

The Indian girls don’t talk as we leave the warehouse. They’re looking around like we are for signs of Abraham Dorn. We see him leaning against an oil drum outside the warehouse. Asleep. Dead. Or somewhere in between. The girls stare at him solemnly until Deacon opens the back of the truck and they pile in. I join him in the front seat.

“Mind telling me where the fuck we’re going?”

“Oske has a safe house ten miles from here.”

“She has a lot of fucking houses for a chick always asking for money.”

One of the girls’ in the back seat stifles a laugh, which most likely means she knows Oske and therefore knows exactly what the hell I’m talking about.

“Your brother gave it to her.”

“Southpaw…”

“Not that brother,” Deacon says. “The other one.”

“Is he fucking her?”

“Isn’t she your sister or something?”

“It’s Ethan. He would fuck a couch.”

Deacon laughs. “No, he’s not fucking her. She’s working for him on some private venture. Just our luck we have a place to stash these lovely ladies.”

The lovely ladies are paying close attention. Yoki whispers something to Tayanita and she pipes up, “When you bring us to Oske… how are we going to get back home?”

“All in good time,” Deacon says. “All in good time. But trust me ladies… we’ll be sending you home. Especially if you are anything like Oske.”

Deacon seems to know where the fuck we’re going. I’m surprised that I see Oske waiting outside when we get there. Whenever Oske does something predictable, she surprises me. She hops off the porch steps once she sees the truck and starts waving her hands like crazy. I wasn’t there when Deacon met Oske, but judging by his red face and instant tension, he at least finds her stressful to be around.

“Here comes trouble.”

Before Deacon pulls the truck to a complete stop, Yoki, Tayanita, and Meli jump out of the backseat and go running straight towards Oske with their arms outstretched. They screech so loudly that I swear these women nearly blow my eardrum out.

“HEY!” Deacon yells over the ladies’ greeting. “I need to send Scrap back out for the rest of the girls. We need the other truck keys so he can get the other women out of there. Hurry your ass up.”

Oske ignores him until she’s done planting kisses on cheeks. Deacon yells her name sharply and she reaches into her pocket for a set of keys and throws them at Deacon’s head. I know she can throw better than that. Deacon catches the keys despite Oske’s effort to get him right in the head.

“I’ll take them inside,” Oske says. “Text me when you need something.”

“I’ll need something later tonight when I’m done putting Midnight SS in the ground.”

Oske looks him up and down with a disgusted look on her face. “That had better not be something suggestive.”

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