Page 5 of Beast
Pine Bluff having a Sheriff’s Office and Police Department had always been a problem. “I’ll visit the sheriff and see what’s up his ass,” I said. “Gentlemen, we need to be thinking outside the box on income. We need ideas.”
Big Kentucky started to speak up but stopped when the door opened. A Prospect named Stimpy stuck his head in.
“Beast, we got shit going down at Hot Rod Willie’s.” Stimpy rubbed the sweat from his forehead. The bad news was next. “After we delivered, someone entered the lot last night and totaled every mod. Willie’s fucking pissed. Said we should have known someone was looking to hurt our business.”
“Fucker is supposed to have security at night.” I got up from the table.
“Both security guards were murdered.” Stimpy swallowed hard. “Willie wants us to start providing security. Wants us to figure out who did it and visit them. He wants to see two dead bodies.”
“Looks like someone’s been waiting for me to get out of Varner,” I said. “Big Kentucky, Brainiac, you’re with me. The rest of you hit the streets and see what you can find out.”
I ended church, and everyone went on their way. I stayed at the table alone. Someone was sending a message. A message from the Messengers made sense, but they seemed to have their hands in too many things. Regardless, that shit would have to be taken care of.
2
Skittles
It’salwaysthefirstquestion asked. “What’s it like being an outlaw biker’s wife?” The first thing I do is correct the question. I’m an old lady first, a wife second. I have rules to follow and do things wives don’t usually do or enjoy. I like the life. It suits me. Marcus provides everything I want and need. In return, I meet his needs. Imagine having a man who’d take a bullet for you instead of running from one.
The clubhouse is nearly empty when I’m showered, dressed, and ready to start my day. Stimpy is at the bar talking to the woman with the stretched snatch.
“Mornin’,” Stimpy said. He pushed his beer away as if he couldn’t drink this early. The girl placed it behind the bar. She watched me with subtle interest but also with an air of caution. I wasn’t sure what her game was, but I’d find out soon enough.
“Trixie, right?” I said.
Stimpy had a jumpy, nervous tic that flared when he was scared. He was nervous today. “I’m gonna go out to the garage and find something to do.”
I nodded. “Good idea.”
I waited for Stimpy to shut the door and asked Trixie for a bottle of water. “How do you like the club?”
Trixie placed the water on the bar. She crossed her arms and fixed her eyes on me. I’d seen the look before. One biker chick trying to figure out another. Could she trust me? How much should she say to the prez’s old lady?
“I’m your friend, baby. No need to overthink it.” I opened the water and took a drink. “I’ve seen enough of your kind come and go that I could write a book on the subject.” I really could. I’d majored in English at the University of Arkansas, focusing on literature. I’d told Marcus several times I wanted to write a book about the Brothers of Chaos. Most men would have laughed at the idea. He encouraged it and wanted Russell Crowe to play him if the book ever made it into the theaters.
Trixie laid a bar towel over her shoulder. “It’s a life I think I’d enjoy as someone’s old lady.”
“Got your eye on anyone?” Every chick that came into the club came in knowing who they wanted to hook up with permanently. Being passed around was part of the boys being boys. You accepted that or got the hell out.
“Watcher if I get a choice.” A smile worked across her lips. “I like his Canadian accent.” Her smile grew. I didn’t wanna tell her he had been married five times and had eight kids. Watcher had a way of attracting old ladies who couldn’t survive the old lady life.
A monitor on the back of the bar showed the front gate opening. A black Mercedes pulled in, making me smile. It was time for the fun to start.
“You let me know if you need anything.” I capped the water and stood. “Watcher’s a good guy. A little on the strange side, but that makes him good for the club.”
“I appreciate that.”
I got outside as the cat calls from the garage and parking lot began. Three young, hot women climbed out of Gigi’s car, and the calls grew louder. Wendy and Carmen were good sports about it, showing their asses in short shorts and tank tops that struggled to hold their boobs. Gigi rolled her eyes and ignored the calls for her to show her ass. I wouldn’t say she walked around with a stick up her ass, but, well, I would say that because she did. I flipped the guys off, and they returned to what they were doing.
“Shouldn’t these animals be changing oil or something,” Gigi said. She stayed close to the car just in case she had to escape. I’d discussed the biker life with all three several times, so they knew what they were getting into when they pulled in.
Wendy and Carmen walked to the garage, where two Prospects were finishing up mods on a Dodge Charger.
Mario “TexMex” Sanchez stopped what he was doing and turned to Wendy. Before I knew it, she had her arm draped over TexMex’s shoulder, and he had his hand stuck down her back pocket. Bikers had no problem getting pussy. On the other hand, a girl who knew how to do things the right way had no trouble getting biker dick. When I met Beast, first it was his eyes, then his size, and finally the ink on his body when he removed his shirt. It all hooked me in five minutes.
“If you whores are done, we should get going,” I said. I climbed in the front passenger seat, and Gigi followed, waving off an approaching Prospect. “His name is Diesel.”
Gigi watched the guy walk away. “Why that name?” She turned and rolled her eyes when I winked. Biker nicknames always carried a good backstory.
