The meticulously restored 1969 Camaro careened around a corner, and fishtailed wildly on the gravel road before its driver got it back under control. He stomped on the gas pedal. The tires spun out before finding traction, and rocketing the classic car forward. The old muscle car’s headlights barely lit up the road, but he didn’t slow down. Its carbureted engine roared loudly into the night.
Shane gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and cursed fluently as he tore down the back road. “Fucking bastard!”
Tears ran down Crystal’s face. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” He backhanded Crystal so hard that her head snapped against the headrest. Sobbing, she curled into a fetal position. “Fuckin’ junkie,” he muttered contemptuously.
“I’m sorry, Shane,” she instantly whispered.
He spared her a quick glance. “Crystal, what the fuck do you think is going to happen if Tim goes to the police? Huh? Do you know? Do you even fucking care?”
“Yes.” She kept her voice low and soothing. “We’ll talk to him again. I know Tim. He won’t really go to the police.”
“He does, and everyone’s fucked, Crystal. You hear me? Everyone, even Jingles.” Then he added cruelly, “Even you. Especially you. What do you think happens to a drug mule?”
“It won’t come to that, Shane,” she promised. “I’ll talk to Tim, and he’ll see that everything’s okay.”
“You fucking better, Crystal,” he snarled, and jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I’m not going back to prison. I’m definitely not going back to prison because of some Meth whore and her wimp, cuckold husband. Fuckin’ Jingles will feel the same way.”
“He’s just concerned about me, baby. That’s all,” she whis-pered, and tentatively laid her hand on Shane’s muscular arm. “He saw the bruises on my body, and he got scared and angry. That’s it, Shane. Tim’s just scared and angry. If we just explain everything, he’ll be okay.” She offered him a more confident smile. “I’ll tell him that I’m divorcing him. I won’t be his concern anymore. Once he knows that, he won’t have any reason to go to the police.”
Shane stared out the windshield, keeping a sharp lookout for deer. Then he glanced quickly at her again. Fucking Meth-addicted stripper, he sneered to himself. “You calm him the fuck down, you hear me?”
“It’s going to be okay, Shane,” she repeated, and smiled hopefully at him. “You’ll see.”
Ignoring her, he pulled out his cell phone and hit a speed-dial number. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said quietly. “It’s going sideways.”
Harsh profanity echoed from the phone, and he held it away from his ear until Jingles finally settled down. “Prison rules, right?” he asked tersely, and listened again. “Yeah. My trailer. Know the address?”
Another brief pause, and then he nodded. “Good. See you there. Text me when you get close.”
Sighing, he tucked the phone back into his vest, and concentrated on the road again. His hands weren’t clutching the wheel in a death-grip anymore, but his blood was still boiling. He couldn’t believe wimpy Tim had actually dared to confront him…and publicly, too, in the Blades’ own clubhouse.
At first he’d thought the man had come to share a beer, and discuss the situation calmly. But once he’d reached their table, Shane had known there’d be trouble.
Skinny little fucker has no clue what he did tonight.
Tim was convinced Shane had hooked Crystal on Crystal Meth. It was only partially true, but Shane hadn’t cared to debate the matter. Tim hadn’t been in any mood to listen.
He’d tried to persuade his wife to leave, but she’d refused. She was so hopelessly addicted that she’d needed another fix…and since she’d hoped Shane would get her more, she’d insisted on staying with him.
Besides, she’d wanted to see Jingles. Tim, her husband, was no match for her addiction and her drug-dealing boyfriend.
The situation had shifted from mildly annoying to deadly serious once Tim had threatened to contact the police. That had blown any chance he’d had of resolving the situation quietly. Now Tim was a target and a threat to the Lone Star Blades motorcycle club, and needed to be dealt with quickly and permanently. Prison rules.
Prison rules were simple: Deal with threats decisively, or they’d eventually deal with you.
No fucking way am I going back to prison, Shane thought for the millionth time. No fucking college boy or his junkie wife is going to send me back! Not in this lifetime! No way!
He’d made sure Tim was seen leaving the clubhouse alone, under his own power. Then he’d grabbed Crystal and headed back to the trailer park they all shared by a faster route.
Crystal was the wild card tonight. Meth made its victims unpredictable. Right now she was calm, agreeable, and desperate for another fix. But would she stay that way? She still cared for Tim, even though she’d just decided to divorce him. Shane needed her to go along with what he had planned…and it was likely to turn ugly.
She’s hooked hard on that shit! he thought, sparing her one last derisive glance. Meth controls her now.
And I control the Meth.
He expected to arrive home a good fifteen minutes before Tim. It was more than enough time for what he had planned.
The Camaro fishtailed wildly around another corner, but never slowed.
Prison rules.
Before they reached the trailer park, Shane slid into a nearby gas station, and found a parking spot well away from the building. The overhead light was broken, so the Camaro was hard to spot. As an extra precaution, he shut off the headlights, then briefly composed his thoughts, and turned to face Crystal.
“Okay, I need you to listen to me,” he said softly, and forced an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I hit you, but my temper got the best of me.”
She managed a shaky smile, but her eyes started to fill with tears again.
Jesus Christ, enough with the waterworks! he thought disgustedly. Damn! If Jingles hadn’t already paid me $50k for her, I’d let her overdose and be done with her. He just needs to make this bitch disappear already!
No hint of his true emotions echoed through his low, soothing voice when he continued, “We’re going to wait inside your trailer for Tim to get back. Then we’re going to convince him that going to the cops is a bad idea for everyone. Understand?”
Her eyes were dull with addiction-hunger, but she nodded. “Yes, Shane.”
Restlessly she shifted in her seat, and scratched her bare skin. She needed a new hit of Meth, and her cravings were almost overpowering. Anxiety and nausea were starting to build in equal amounts.
“Good,” he said gently. “I need you to help me with Tim. Can you do that?”
She’d have sold her soul for another fix. “Yes, Shane. Absolutely.”
“You need to convince Tim that we can work this all out. The cops don’t need to be involved,” he repeated patiently.
“I understand.”
“Good.” He kept his voice calm and friendly. “When we’re all done, Jingles will come get you. He’ll take care of you. Okay?”
That made her eyes light up. “You promise?” Hope and hunger radiated through her pathetic expression, and emphasized just how badly she was hooked.
“Of course I promise,” he winked, then leaned over and hugged her. “Jingles told me how important you are to him.”
She smiled brightly at him, and ran a shaky hand through her hair.
Meth addicts would do anything to get a new fix, and avoid coming down from the drug. Withdrawal was extremely painful—physically, psychologically, and emotionally.
Good, Shane thought coldly. She’ll do anything I tell her to right now.
“It’s time, Crystal.” Quietly he left the gas station lot, and drove the final stretch to their trailer park. Cautiously he parked at an empty trailer some distance from his own, so his car would be hidden. Then he walked Crystal back to the trailer she still shared with Tim. The other units were dark; no one was peering out their windows.
When Crystal stepped inside and reached for the light switch, he stopped her. “Leave them off.”
“Okay, Shane.” She sat obediently on the sofa, and looked up at him through the near-darkness. “Jingles is coming to get me?”
“Absolutely.” He turned away, and stared out the window. “I already called him, and he’s on his way now.”
“Thank you so much, Shane.”
“Why don’t you pack a small bag?” he suggested over his shoulder. “And maybe change into something special for Jingles?”
She giggled happily. “Good idea.”
Once she left, Shane sighed and shook his head. Damn, she’s dumb. Gorgeous…for now…but that won’t last long. The Meth will strip it away fast. Tim should have divorced her years ago.
He stayed in the window, watching for Tim’s headlights, while Crystal cheerfully packed a bag, and aimlessly talked to herself. When his phone silently buzzed, he checked the display, and nodded.
Jingles is close.
Prison rules.