Page 2 of Pearl
Angel, Charity and Candy stride into the room, no doubt not their real names because no one ever uses their real names when they’re running scared, no matter the reason, but those are the ones we got and until they trust us that’s who they are. They all wear jeans, tank tops, and sandals provided mostly by us, right along with the soap and shampoo they used to clean themselves after a hot box ride, and a mafia war outside of Vegas led to theirescape and eventual safety on the back of our bikes through the desert.
I don’t know who the Larussios and the bikers who ride for them took them from, but they saved their damned lives, that’s for sure.
They’re damn lucky to have escaped with their lives, and that Marenah, one of the wives of the bodyguards for the Larussios, called us to get them out of Vegas. The shelter she runs takes most of the trafficked victims they come across, but these three are special packages we’re told. Hold them, and as soon as the heat has cooled let them start over with the Duchess in New York. Those were the orders, or requests as Duchess likes to call them. And we’ll do just that, as long as the ladies aren’t up here tonight looking to rob us and vanish into the night with every fucking dollar we own.
Skye’s already slid the money she was counting on the counter into a big black bag, and Brandy has all the cash behind the bar, but I’m not stupid. I saw the girls eying the green as they walked through that door. I’ve seen that hungry look far too many times not to recognize it on them.
I gesture to the two low couches with a coffee table in between them, a place to hang out, relax, and watch a little TV or just talk when nothing else is going on. “Since obviously you have something to say, and it’s so fucking important that you had to chance getting seen? I will let you three talk first, but after that, we’re going to go back over the fucking rules since you didn’t seem to hear them so well the first time.”
Angel swallows, and her fingers twist in her lap causing me to relax a little bit. I’ve had more than enough experience watching people and she’s nervous, not up here to rob us. If she is, the other two or at least one of them is putting her up to it. My eyes rake over them all, and Charity, the one who looks like the leaderof the three, meets me eye to eye. I tap my Glock. “Fucking spill, girlie.”
Chapter 2
Carver
The grizzly looking fucker at the end of the bar turns and recognition registers for both of us at the same time. I’d know that grinning son of a bitch anywhere. Three straight years locked up in Florence State Pen and you get to know your brothers better than the family you have waiting for you on the outside. At least those of us with any kin to speak of at all.
The barkeep places a fresh brew in front of me. I toss some bills on the counter, take my cold beer and head down to the end of the bar foregoing the bare-ass ladies strutting their stuff in the back, where I originally intended to go. “Lucky-fucking-Wing. Good to see you man. When the hell did they let you out?”
His grey eyes light with recognition and one hand floats to his beard, stroking the four inches of growth, a gesture I’ve seen a thousand times if I’ve seen it at all. “Good to see you too, Carver. Real good. Fucking parole board finally believed me when I told them I was, what’s the word, remorseful. Like I was sorry for killing that son of a bitch after he murdered that woman. Yeah, remorseful that I didn’t have more time with the bastard.”
I laugh. “More likely they were tired of listening to your sorry ass. What brings you to Vegas? I thought you were riding with a club up north.”
“Family in the area, and that club hasn’t exactly decided to take me in yet.” His eyes shift downward. “Things have changed in the last five years, Carver. The group patched over to some other crew, sons a bitches merged, and it’s not the same as it was back in the day when we were running and causing hell.”
“Surely all of the guys want you back?”
Lucky nods, stroking that beard. “A couple of the brothers vouched for me, but that new crew isn’t too trusting. We’ll see what happens. In the meantime, a couple buddies asked me to do a favor and watch over a few things in Vegas. Sort of killing two birds with one stone before I head north. Hoping to be riding with them soon but I’ve also got a few feelers out. Keeping my options open right now. What are you up to these days? Still riding alone, tearing up those canyons running mafia shit through the back door?”
I’ve never been anything except a lone wolf, but I get Lucky wanting to ride with a club. The family unit, the comradery, the loyalty and knowing you have each other’s backs, no matter what the fuck goes down. Maybe one day I’ll find a good fit, but for now, it’s just me, my own rules, the canyons and my ride. Just the way I like it, because I know for damn certain I can trust myself.
I clink my glass with Lucky’s. “Still riding alone. The connected guys here in Vegas want a run made to Arizona or the border, they don’t want any connections to them or the club working with them, so they pay cash and lots of it. Pay me through the MC club loyal to them, the Rivals. It’s a win-win. Just the way I like it.”
“Probably keeps you out of at least a little trouble. No club wars and shit.”
My jaw shifts with irritation as I catch what’s happening in the back of the room through the reflection of the mirror behind the bar. “I don’t know about that. Mayhem seems to follow me wherever I go.” Lucky of all people should know that.
I turn slightly and gesture toward the back where a big beefy guy with a balding head has one of the dancers pushed up against the wall, where she doesn’t want to be. My jaw locks tight. “Take today for example. I walk into a bar to have a cold drink and watch a little ass, and some asshole has to go and put his hands on a woman who can’t fight back. Pretty sure there’s going to be trouble today,” I tell him, placing my glass on the table and donning the pair of brass knuckles that were a gift from my uncle.
“Fucking aye, Carver, wait for me.” Lucky’s right on my heels as I stride with purpose to the back. Just like old fucking times behind bars. No matter that it would land us in the damn hole for at least fourteen nights. Maybe fighting is just in my blood, because if trouble comes knocking, I’m gonna lay down. No two fucking ways about it.
Baldy doesn’t even see it coming. One good slug to the back of the head and he sways in place, ready to topple to the ground. I glance at the brunette with tears running down her face. “Get dressed and disappear.” She and a couple of her friends don’t have to be told twice. They double time it out of the back room not even worried with covering anything bare. But Baldy’s got friends, too. And I think they wanna play.
I can handle the pool sticks swinging in their hands. I’ll shove them right up their asses, but when his spiky-haired friend with a nose ring goes for his gun, I slow my step for a second, quick to pull my own, because things could go south in a minute, but too many fights make me fucking faster than him.
“Gun!” Lucky shouts, seeing the weapon seconds too late, but Baldy roars to life, coming after me with a vengeance,temporarily blocking the gun’s path to me. Only for a second, but it’s the only one I need. I deliver an uppercut to Baldy’s nose that drives the broken end of it towards his brain. Blood gushes, and I use him as a human shield, pushing his massive body back into Spiky, who loses his balance as the beefy man falls into him while Lucky clocks him over the head with a beer bottle from behind.
Assholes like that always seem to run in packs … and this time is no exception.
Four more big heavy fuckers come out of the back. I don’t want to kill them, but just because I don’t shoot first and ask questions later doesn’t mean I won’t bury them if need be. My knife is out of my pocket before they get near, ready to keep them alive and make my point, but a loud booming voice shouts from the door, cutting through the commotion in the room. “You fuckers have the audacity to show your ugly mugs where you’re not wanted? You better show some respect before you end up in the ground.”
The big bald guy with a bandana tied tightly around his forehead strides forward with black leather chaps and boots that look like they’ve stomped a few heads in the day. And I’ve never been so glad to see Capone and his friend Ryker in all of my days.
Capone’s chest is bare except for his black leather cut. He waves a gun of his own at Spiky, who’s looking up at him but still holding that gun. “Slide it over to me on the floor. You motherfuckers are a disgrace; you can’t even fight clean.”
Baldy and his boys have a whole fucking mess of trouble because Capone and Ryker are more connected than these clowns want to know.
Capone gives me a chin nod. “These fuckers giving you and your friend trouble, Carver?”
