Death Lords Motorcycle Club: Chelsea and Wrecker (The Motorcycle Clubs Series) (22 page)

“He watching porn?” Abel whistles under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“How you want to play this?”

“He doesn’t know you as well. Why don’t you go first? If you have a chance to take him out, do it. Otherwise I’ll be right behind you.” The motel hallway is one long shot. The main entrance and elevator bank must be at the other end.

Abel nods. He tugs his cap down around his ears and starts walking. With the dark cap and heavy navy pea coat, he looks dangerous but Paulson’s so hooked into his porn, he doesn’t realize there’s another person in the hall with him until Abel’s right on top of him.

Abel strikes fast. His one hand covers Paulson’s mouth and the other goes to his neck. There’s a small sound, barely noticeable and then Paulson slumps, unconscious in Abel’s grip.

“Nice.”

“Picked up a few things in the Marines,” Abel grins.

Inside the room we can wear some shouting. “What do you mean you didn’t make the exchange?”

I know that voice. Motherfucker, Chief Eric Schmidt is in on this. I wipe a hand down my face as I try to take in this new development.

“I told you I went to the gas station, put my hazards on and went inside. When I came out the shit was gone but there was nothing left behind,” Moose says.

“They’re supposed to leave you the address of the hand off.”

“Well I didn’t fucking get it.”

“Guys. Guys. There’s no sense in arguing.” That’s Trainor trying to play peacemaker. “Just call your contact up and tell him that the exchange was botched and we need to get the goods again.”

“Your lab blew up. You got another pound of meth somewhere we don’t know about?” Moose sneers.

“You know I don’t.”

“Then they’re not going to give me the information for fucking free.” Moose slams his hand on the desk.

“Then you shouldn’t have lost it,” Chief Schmidt says. “You fucked up; now you got to fix it.”

“Or what?”

“Or this is it for you.”

“Fuck you. Look. You wanted goods on the Death Lords dudes, right? Well I got it right here.” There’s silence and then…

“What the hell is this shit?”

“It’s video of the refinery over in Brooklyn Park.”

“So?”

“So that’s where Big gets rid of the problems at the club. He’s in charge of the fires down there.”

“What’s that got to do with Judge’s son?”

“Nothing but I got that other dude, the big fucking Marine, going in with Big the other night.”

“You’ve got two fucking blurry images getting out of a truck going into work. There’s not even a fucking body.”

“He takes the body in later. See, when he pulls out the garbage, he’s taking the trash out.”

“This wouldn’t stand up in a court of law. It’s fucking worthless.”

“I’ve got other stuff on the Misery crew. Judge will want to protect Junior. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again.”

“Until we catch him doing something, then all your talk is just that.” I hear a fist striking flesh. “Now you fucking get on the phone and find out where and when the hand off happens or the next trip Big makes to the ovens will be with your dead body.”

We haul Paulson’s ass between us, dragging him like he’s drunk off his ass. We just make it out of the hallway and into the stairwell when the door to 212 is wrenched open. “Paulson. Where the fuck are you? Let’s go.”

A door slams and then heavy footsteps stomp down the hall.

“That pinhead. He better not be jerking off in the maintenance room.”

Abel and I speed up and shut the door.

“Chelsea, why don’t you go get us some dinner.”

She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and then leaves. No questions and no arguments. Abel shakes his head in disbelief but takes himself into the bathroom to fill the empty ice bucket full of cold water. It takes three tries before Paulson regains consciousness.

I feel like punching him again when the first words out of his mouth are whiny threat.

“You’re going to prison for a long time for messing with an officer,” he cries.

“Really? What about Schmidt talking about meth delivery? How much time will he go down for that?”

I press play on my phone and the conversation plays back loud and clear.

“You can’t tell that’s Chief Schmidt,” he blusters.

Chelsea’s done a good job. There’s a single chair and a plastic sheet. Abel pulls out a small pouch from his pocket and lays it on the desk.

“Gag him.” Abel tells me.

I don’t even get the tape out when Paulson starts crying. “What do you want to know? I’m not going down for this. I just wanted to take my girlfriend to Hawaii.”

Hawaii? Abel and I exchange looks of disbelief. You can take a boy out of the small town, but you can’t take the small ideas from his pea brain.

I pull out my phone to start recording, but Abel shakes his head. “That shit can’t ever be deleted. Use this.”

He hands me a small hand held camera and we start questioning Paulson. He spills it all. Abel doesn't even have to take his tools out of the pouch.

Schmidt and a couple of others have been producing meth since Schmidt took office. Trainor and him met through the Eighty-Eight Henchmen after Trainor lost too much money at the Casino.

Trainor started cooking it up; his wife found out and the Eighty-Eight Henchmen had her killed. Schmidt thought it would be good to pin it on me but the best evidence he had at the time was parking a look-alike truck near the house. He planned on planting the gun but Chelsea recording everything that night I was arrested put a crimp in his plans. Since they executed the warrant and there was no gun recorded, they were going to have to plant it later.

When the Trainor house exploded, it put a wrench in things because Trainor had the gun in his house. Schmidt hadn’t wanted to keep it around.

God, they were so fucking stupid. I had to laugh.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Sorry, Paulson, but we can’t have you running back to Schmidt.”

The butt end of my gun knocks him out again. We could kill him here but we might need him later. Junior’s serial killer basement will be his new home until we figure out the best course of action. We bundle up Paulson’s body and carry that out to the truck. Chelsea’s in the driver seat but smartly doesn’t turn around. She steps on the gas and drives straight to the duplex. Abel follows close behind. When we arrive at the house, she puts the truck in park. I get out and go around to open her door.

“Don’t be gone too long,” she says as I lift her down.

I give her a kiss. “It’ll be quick. We’ll both be home before you know it.”

“I guess I could make potato soup tonight.”

“Love that shit, baby.” I kiss her again and then pat her on the butt before she retreats into the house.

Abel climbs in the passenger side of the truck. “There’s not another woman in the world like Chelsea, is there?”

There’s definite longing in his voice. Not for her specifically but for a woman who understands the lifestyle, accepts it without question. It’s hard to find a woman like that.

“She’s one of a kind,” I admit.

“How many others would just give you a kiss goodbye like you were going to the office instead of disposing of a dead body and probably going to cut a few others?”

“Not many,” I says. “But there are others. Pippa. Annie.”

“Yeah, I guess.” His tone isn’t convincing.

I don’t really know how to respond because this is outside of my comfort zone. I’m down with talking about fucking, drinking, shooting but feelings? Unless it’s with Chelsea, then no on the feelings.

“What do you think of Big?” I say in an effort to change the conversation.

Abel obliges me. “Straight shooter. It’s why I’m not convinced Junior’s messed up in this but he’s definitely hiding something.”

“We can’t make a move on Moose without either taking Junior out or letting him know.”

“I vote for laying it out there. We’re going to have to take Moose out so we might as well give Junior a chance to save himself. Big is…he’s a good guy. You sensed it or you wouldn’t have let him touch Chelsea. I don’t see a guy like Big aligning himself with someone who’s sick.”

“Let me call Judge and run it by him.”

In the end Judge agrees with Abel. If Junior objects to us taking Moose out then he’ll have to go too. And for all intents and purposes the Misery MC will cease.

“Besides, we need Big to help us get rid of Fuckface back there. No quarry here,” Abel notes after I hang up.

The quarry is the place we do our business back in Fortune. Plenty of rock and rock crushing machines. Refineries are good too, though.

“Good point.”

“
H
ow
about that table over there.” Mandy points to a table on the other side of the bar, near the far side of the dance floor. 

“Where’s the pool tables?” I ask. Grant’s going to want to play pool. He’d do most anything for me but dancing isn’t one of them. The only place he’s willing to rotate his hips is in the bedroom.

After following Moose and taking care of Paulson, Grant decided he wanted to see the Misery crew in action, try to loosen some people up with the help of alcohol. And he felt that it needed to be away from the Misery clubhouse. Using me as an excuse, Grant got the name of this bar as a place the group liked going to. I invited Mandy because I felt she had information about the Misery boys even if she didn’t know it.

“They’re in the back room but I want to dance, don’t you?”

Not really but I also wanted to interrogate her so I nod. “Let me tell Grant, though, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll go claim the table.”

Grant had made a bee line to the bar to get us drinks when we walked in and saw the line was three deep for beer. I watch as he, Abel, Junior, Big and the other Misery boys cleave the bar line in half. They don’t really shoulder anyone out of the way, but their size, leathers, and maybe air of general menace has the polo-wearing boys backing up. They get their beers and start in my direction. Mandy appears by my side. “God, they are hot. Every time I’m out with Riot, I forget why we broke up. He was good in the sack too.”

“He’ll get a job. If you love him, stick with him. It’s hard to find a good man, even harder to find one that loves you back.”

She tucks a wayward hair behind her ear. “I can’t handle the rollercoaster with him. One minute he’s up and the other he’s down. I’ve got bills to pay. Besides there is no shortage of women around those guys.”

She nods toward the men whose progress toward the pool room has stalled because a group of girls have approached and are flirting with them. Most of the guys, including Abel, are single which is why I don’t run over and yank their extensions out for talking to my man—even though I’d like to. If one of them lays a hand on Grant, all bets are off.

“I want something steady,” Mandy continues. “And Riot isn’t steady. None of those Misery boys are. They are wild and hot but not good for you. Take Moose, for example. He’s got two sisters but they both have to work two jobs while he rides around on his motorcycle all the time. Sometimes they have money but most of the time, they’re mopping up after him. Doesn’t help that his youngest sister got sick too.”

“What do you mean sick?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t cancer or anything like that. I think it had to do with her lungs. Anyway, she was really sick but they don’t have insurance so she didn’t go to the doctor. The crud she had didn’t go away and eventually they took her to a free clinic. I don’t remember the diagnosis at the time but she had to be admitted to the hospital. There was this awful shouting match between Moose and Junior. Moose was demanding to know how they were going to pay for medical bills if they didn’t take a certain job and Junior said they’d find a way.” She pauses and flicks more of her hair back.

“What kind of job?” This information is exactly the kind of stuff I was hoping to find out by inviting Mandy out with us.

“Don’t know. Riot hustled me out of there and told me it was club business. That’s another thing I don’t like. They’re so damn secretive. Is your man like that?”

“There’s some stuff I don’t want to know.” I answer. Club business belongs between the members.

“What about the women? You don’t want to know about that either?”

“Did Riot cheat on you? Is that why you broke it off? Because if he did, that’s shitty and I’m sorry.”

She rolls her eyes. “Who knows? What goes on at the club stays at the club. So yeah, it’s good for free drinks and there’s a ton of hot guys there but I know that they’re only good time guys. One night, one bang, and that’s all they got in them.”

Not Grant and not Abel either, I think. I’m not naive enough to think that no one in the Death Lords cheats. The Warlord, BangBang and his wife have had some rocky times although I don’t really know what that is all about. But Judge would cut his dick off before he’d step out on Pippa and I know that Grant would never have sex with anyone but me. From the moment he took my virginity he was mine and I was his.

“Not all of them,” I say watching as Grant breaks free of the pack and ambles toward me. Suddenly I don’t want to dance with Mandy. Even though it is cold outside, the girls in here are dressed in skimpy dresses and tiny tops. I feel overdressed in my skinny jeans and bandage top. At least I have a nick rack, I think.

“You look fierce.” Grant hands me a beer and then leans in to brush a kiss against my cheek. “Something wrong?”

“I was thinking about how all these women might have to go home without their fingers after I’m done chopping them off for touching you.” I’m only half joking.

This elicits a big laugh from Grant. “Yep, fierce. There are pool tables in the back. You coming or you want to dance?”

He knows I haven’t been to a club like this before and it’s nice that he’s willing to stick around near the dance floor when I know he wants to be in the back shooting the shit with the boys. Plus we’re both on an information gathering expedition.

“Mandy and I are going to shake our groove thing.” I give him a slight push toward the back room so he knows it’s okay to leave me.

“No dirty dancing because I’m still on parole and I’m not allowed to maim anyone for another three hundred or so days.”

“I promise to be on my best behavior,” I wave for him to skedaddle.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” He gives me a wink and then follows Abel and the rest of the guys into the back room. Riot, Mandy’s ex, brings up the rear. I can tell he’s dawdling hoping for an invitation to stay but Mandy turns away and stares out at the dance floor.

Riot’s face falls and he shuffles toward the pool tables.

“You should be careful. Guys aren’t big on the whole jealousy thing. Play it easier with him next time,” she cautions.

I remind myself I’m trying to make new friends, not new enemies and don’t correct her. Instead, I grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor. It’s the one thing I think we have in common. Mandy throws up her arms and begins to shake her hips. The dance floor works its magic and pretty soon Mandy is smiling and giggling. Want to Want Me by Jason Derulo comes on and Mandy starts singing the words and pointing at me, “I want you to want me,” she screams at the top of her lungs. We whirl like we’re giddy and not a little drunk even though I’ve only had one sip of my beer and Mandy’s had none. We dance hard for three more bass thumping songs until Sheeren’s Thinking Out Loud starts playing.

A couple of guys look to approach but I shake my head and they back off. Mandy screws up her face. “Don’t scare off all the guys,” she yells into my ear.

“Sorry,” I say completely unrepentant. The last thing I want is for Grant to get in a fight because some guy put his hands on me.

“Fine, let’s get some shots.” She grabs a waitress carrying a tray of Jello shots and decked out in glow stick necklaces. “We’ll take two.” Mandy holds up two fingers.

“$10,” the waitress says plucking off one small shot and then another. I peer into the white paper cup. It’s definitely not worth five bucks.

“Put it on the tab of the guys in the back,” Mandy jerks her head toward the pool room.

“Doesn’t work that way. You need to pay me now,” the waitress says.

“I don’t have $10.” Mandy retorts. “Put it on the tab.”

“Here,” I pull a twenty out of my purse. I don’t want a scene. The waitress gives me ten ones in return and then waits. Oh right. A tip. I give her four dollars which she stuffs in her pocket and leaves without another word.

“God, this place,” Mandy moans. “Let’s go see Riot. I don’t want to pay for another drink and this shot is not going to tide me over all night.”

I stand at the edge of the dance floor and watch her walk away. I can’t get a handle on her. It’s not like I’m a big fan of Riot. I hardly know him and I sense that she’s been hurt before, if not by Riot, some other guy. But I’m not going to like her much if she’s using him.

“Did your friend abandon you?” a deep voice says from behind me.

I whirl around in surprise. “Um, no. She went to join the rest of our group.”

“You look thirsty,” the guy says and gestures for one of the roving waitresses to come over. He’s slightly under six feet and good looking in a default sort of way. I think it’s his dimples that appear at the corners of his mouth when he smiles at me. “What will you have?”

“Nothing, thanks.” I turn to go to the backroom and join Grant when the guy grabs my wrist. Not hard, but it surprises me. I realize I haven’t been in this situation before. In Fortune, everyone knew I was Grant’s and no male touched me like this there. I got plenty of hugs and the older members would ruffle my hair but this guy—boy, really—is flirting with me. I don’t even know if this is normal.

“Don’t drink? That’s cool. Let me buy you a Coke.”

“No, really.” I twist my wrist away from his grip. “I have a boyfriend.”

He glances around. “Seems like you are all alone. Come on, let me buy you drink.”

He takes two steps closer and I nearly pass out from the stench of liquor that wafts from his breath. He’s been here a lot longer than I have.

“I have a boyfriend,” I repeat, enunciating each word carefully. “And I really need to go.” Because if he steps out of the backroom and sees you this close to me, I’m afraid of what will happen.

“Is there a problem Chelsea?” Thank goodness it’s just Abel. He stands close and crosses his arms.

“This your man?” Dimples asks. He steps forward too, pushing his chest out and crowding me close to Abel.

“No, he’s a friend.” I turn and try, once again, to move toward the back.

“So you were lying about having a boyfriend bitch?”

“He’s drunk, Abel. Drunk. Let it go.” I push Abel square in the chest but at six two he’s immovable. But when Grant appears in the doorway of the pool room, sees Abel standing rigidly next to me, the situation has just taken a turn from irritating to potentially dangerous. I shove Abel harder and am able to move him an inch. “Grant’s coming,” I hiss.

“Good,” he grunts.

“Who the hell is Grant?” Dimples rocks forward.

“You shut up.” I whirl and stab the drunk guy in the chest. “And you,” I turn back to Abel. “Grant is on parole. He cannot get into a fight.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Grant stops and folds his arms across his chest, the black t-shirt creeping up higher showing a hint of his shoulder tats.

“Nothing baby. I’m parched.” I tap my throat. “You have a beer back there for me?”

“This your man?” Dimples asks. “This leather wearing thug? You into that?”

Grant growls and for a sober man, that low rumble would probably be enough to scare him off, but Dimples is too drunk to feel fear.

“Yes, very into that.” I walk away then, hoping that Grant and Abel will just follow me but when I get only two steps before I realize that neither of them are moving.

“You touch my girl?” Grant’s voice is low and menacing.

“The chick was sad-eyed and alone. A guy leaves a hot piece of ass like that alone is a guy who’s not very interested in her.” Dimple shoots back.

Grant’s hands drop to his side and a fist forms in his right hand. I throw myself at him and he instinctively catches me when I crash into him. “No fighting. You are on parole. I do not want you to go back. You do not want to go back. All that time you spent keeping your head down and doing your time and pretending like you were okay with what happened will be for nothing. Please, let’s go and play pool.”

His muscles bunch under my hands and for a moment, I fear I’ve lost him. And then he tilts his head back and inhales, long and deep. “All right, baby.”

He gives a half laugh, humorless and almost angry. Over my shoulder, he points a finger to Dimples. “I suggest you find somewhere else to party for the rest of the night. I’m taking my girl back to play some pool. Later on, I’m going to come out and if I see you, I’ll hit you so hard that your dead relatives will feel it in their graves.”

He doesn’t wait for Dimples to respond. Instead, he grabs my hand and walks swiftly back to the pool room. Just inside the door, the Misery guys are all standing close to the entrance, some of them are holding cue sticks as if they’re weapons. The other occupants, a half dozen guys and a couple of girls not counting Mandy are pressed up against the wall.

“Everything okay?” Junior asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Grant nods brusquely. “Chelsea here is thirsty though.”

Junior turns to a whip thin male with a goatee and a rattail. His acne marked face makes me wonder if he is even of legal drinking age. Fly, get the girl a drink.”

Fly nods and nearly sprints out. He must be a prospect.

“Who’s winning?” I ask.

“He is.” Junior and Big point to each other simultaneously and then laugh.

“I guess it’s time for a new game.” I walk over to the abandoned table and gather up the balls to be racked. The other patrons seem relieved and re-start their own games.

Too bad it is a short lived relief. As soon as the balls are racked, Junior decides to needle Moose.

"Went by your house the other day," Junior leans over the pool table and lines up his shot. “Susan was there but Mia wasn’t. In fact, Susan wouldn’t say where Mia was. You happen to know?”

Moose takes a long draft of his beer before answering. “She’s around.”

“Haven’t seen her in a while.” Junior pockets one solid and lines up the next one. “In fact, I haven’t seen her in about four months. How about you Big? Seen Mia around?”

Big leans against a stool, his big thighs spread and his pool stick resting between them. He chews on a toothpick as he watches the scene in front of him. “Can’t say that I’ve seen her either. Not since she got out of the hospital. Went by myself a couple months ago to see if the girls needed anything. Susan looked real stressed. Wouldn’t allow me in though.”