Rowdy flashed Coke a reckless, confident grin as he mounted his Harley. “It’s going to be fine, Coke. Trust me!”
The big man’s answering scowl was grim. “I disagree.” He planted both feet, and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re moving too fast, and we’ve taken on too many new delivery girls. Hell, I can’t keep them straight anymore. I sure as hell don’t remember their names or anything about their backgrounds.”
Rowdy shrugged indifferently. “Listen, I’m meeting with them pretty regularly. None of them have any family or close friends nearby, and most of them have a Meth habit that keeps them coming back to the club. I don’t know how to make it a more secure situation.”
Coke wasn’t reassured. Soberly he laid a hand on Rowdy’s shoulder. “I think we should use fewer girls, and have them make more deliveries. We can keep a closer watch on them that way. Hell, we can even increase their pay if they can’t spend as much time stripping, and we’ll actually save money at the same time. As it stands now,” he insisted, “we have more girls than we can watch, and I don’t care how much pussy you’re getting—that’s not a good thing.”
Again the younger biker waved an indifferent hand. “You worry too much. It’ll be okay.”
Coke watched as he revved his bike, and accelerated loudly down the street. He couldn’t shake the worry that Rowdy was recruiting too many girls too quickly, and it was going to come back and bite the club in the ass. But since Shane wasn’t involved in the day-to-day operations anymore—he was working with Lobo more and more on other club business—Rowdy had been put in charge of the club’s drug operations, so it was his call.
As far as he could see, Rowdy was using the girls as his own personal harem, and not paying enough attention to business. “He would have listened to Shane,” he muttered. “He’s too busy chasing pussy to focus on safety. Fuck!”
The truck, an old Ford F-150 with faded brown paint and a cracked windshield, sat in an alleyway down the street. It was situated perfectly to watch the Lone Star Blades’ clubhouse without attracting attention. Since it was exactly the same type of vehicle that migrant workers used all over Texas, it blended in perfectly with its surroundings. There were thousands of similar trucks on every road throughout the state. Even in a small town like Brady, it didn’t attract any attention.
Rowdy definitely didn’t see it when he gunned his Harley and raced down the street. Neither did Coke as he stared after his friend, then gloomily walked back into the clubhouse. None of the Prospects paid it any mind, either, and they were supposed to keep an eye out for surveillance.
The truck sat in plain sight, and was invisible.
Its driver picked up a radio, held a quick conversation in Spanish, and then tucked it away again. He and his partner were both unkempt and dirty. They wore rough dirt-stained work clothes and sweat-stained Stetson hats. They looked like they’d just finished a day in the fields. And since they looked exactly like every other migrant worker throughout the entire state, no one paid them any attention.
They sat in plain sight, and were invisible.
When they spoke, it was in low voices, always in Spanish. Since their instructions had been clear, they didn’t need to talk much.
“Watch the club,” they’d been told. “Check in with your contact every few days. Find out where the biker Rowdy sleeps. Learn his patterns of movement.”
They’d been surveying the clubhouse and its members for several weeks, and so far there was no indication they’d been spotted. They were careful, of course, but they were also good at their job. In that short time, they’d been able to obtain critical information about the senior club members. They knew where they lived, and nearly everything about their families, including the places they normally visited and the routes they preferred to use. They knew almost every detail about Rowdy, including the women he saw on a regular basis.
Now they were focused on the Blades’ Meth operations. They needed more information about their production methods, their manufacturing locations, and their distribution network. That information was critical. Their bosses wouldn’t move against the Blades until they had complete information about the club’s Meth operations.
Cautiously the driver started the truck’s engine and pulled out into the street. Their destination was Fredericksburg. The Blades had several mules who transported Meth to San Antonio, Austin, and Houston. They normally passed through Fredericksburg to deliver their drugs. The two spies planned to follow one of them today.
They’d followed a cute white girl with blonde hair earlier, and it seemed like her normal destination was San Antonio. Today they were looking for a specific mule, a very light-skinned Mexican woman. She was their target. They’d follow her, and once she’d finished delivering her drugs, they had instructions to speak with her.
She was critical to their plans.
Crystal lay naked under Jingles, covered in a light sheen of sweat, and panted for breath. Several mind-blowing orgasms had totally relaxed her body. The sex had been everything she’d anticipated, and more. Jingles was a patient but demanding lover, and his size and stamina were beyond anything she’d ever experienced. They’d just finished their second round, and she was secretly hoping there would be a third.
“God, you’re amazing!” she sighed against his chest. “I guess it’s true!”
He chuckled, and ran his hands over her bare breasts. “First time with a black man?”
She nodded, then sighed again with contentment. “Yes. But I really hope it’s not the last time.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t be.”
“Promise?”
He nodded solemnly, then gave her a curious look. “What’s your husband going to say?”
She didn’t want to think about Tim right now…or Rowdy or Shane. She just wanted to enjoy her new lover. “I don’t know,” she finally murmured. “Honestly, I’m not sure I should say anything to him, or anyone else. No one will like the fact that I’ve been with you.”
“No one? Not even you?” he asked softly.
She blinked up at him for a moment, then propped herself up on her elbows. “Me? I loved it! I just don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again.”
“Why not?”
She pressed several kisses against his chest, then replied, “Because I don’t want to piss off Rowdy and Shane. I definitely don’t want to screw up your business together. And I don’t even want to get started about my husband. Shit!” She raked both hands through her hair, and realized they were trembling. “What the fuck have I done?”
“You need to relax,” he said firmly, and cupped her pale face in his hands. “I’ll talk to Shane, and everything will be fine with his organization. That’s a promise. But I don’t want you seeing Rowdy, understood? He’s way too unpredictable.” He gently kissed her, then smiled. “As far as your husband is concerned, does he really have to know? You said he’s not really involved in this part of your life…so what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
“You’d be okay if I didn’t tell him?” She gaped up at him in surprise.
“Hell, yes!” he laughed. “Are you kidding? The last thing I want is some jealous husband who can’t satisfy his wife coming around and getting his ass kicked. It’s bad for business.”
“Oh,” she said lamely, and laughed a little at her own foolishness. “I was worried you’d be upset if I didn’t tell him.”
“You,” he said with another amused chuckle, “need to chill out. Let’s just enjoy each other.”
She leaned up to kiss him. “I like that idea a lot.”
Suddenly his expression changed, and she frowned. “What?”
Quickly he shook his head. “Nothing.”
She didn’t buy that for an instant. “Please tell me,” she urged.
He sighed, then slowly asked, “This is probably none of my business…but are you sure you’re with the right guy?” Casually he sat up, and drew her with him, then let her nestle against his lanky body. “I don’t want to upset you, but you don’t seem really happy. He isn’t involved in your life, he just takes your money, and he makes you feel bad about stripping. Fuckin’ asshole, if you ask me.” He didn’t bother to hide the derision in his deep voice.
She hesitated a long moment, then met his worried gaze. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but my marriage works for me. I won’t always be a stripper. Someday I’ll quit, and want a family. Tim is the man I want for my future.” Tears abruptly flooded her eyes, and she wiped them away. “I can’t explain why it’s so hard for me to stay faithful to him. I’m broken, I guess.”
He kissed her shoulder, then tilted her face up. “You’re not broken,” he said earnestly. “You’re perfect, and any man who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to be with you.”
His lavish compliment thrilled her, and she began to smile again. “Thank you.”
Eventually they got dressed again, and Crystal eyed the bag of Meth and the small glass pipe with longing. Sex with Jingles had almost made her craving disappear, but now it was back and getting stronger by the minute.
He noticed her hungry gaze, and turned to face her. “How often are you using Meth?”
She blushed, and looked down. “A couple of times a week.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Crystal,” he retorted, and his voice was suddenly hard. “How many times?”
What difference did it make to him? she thought, narrowing her eyes. Then she shrugged. “Three, sometimes four times a week. Normally it’s just during the week to help me through my shifts. I’ve only taken it once on the weekend. I can dance and perform just fine on Meth…it’s never been a problem.”
“Okay.” His voice gentled again as he smiled down at her. “I just want to make sure you’ve got it under control. Meth can be some really bad shit if you don’t control it.”
Relieved, she slid seductively against him, and flashed him her best smile. “I can control it, I promise.”
“You better,” he said softly, then motioned toward the desk. “It’s yours if you want it.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, and started across the room.
Before she’d taken more than a single step, he stopped her. “If you take it, though, we need to get a few things straight.”
Her nerves tightened a little. “What’s that?”
“First, I’m your only source for Meth. No one else. I’ll square it with Shane. The Blades won’t give you anymore, not even if you offer to pay for it. You need to understand that right now. You come only to me, understood? If you pick up that bag, you’re part of my organization. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, and I’ll make sure my people do the same.”
She could live with that, and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Jingles.”
“You’re welcome. The second thing is, I want to see you out on stage in thirty minutes. You got that?” It wasn’t a request.
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight,” he said firmly, and then rolled his eyes. “Shit, girl, it’s only nine, and the club don’t close ’til two. You got plenty of time to dance and make some money. There are showers and towels downstairs in the locker room. I’ll still make good on my offer. You make at least two grand tonight, or I make up the difference personally.”
She started to object, but the look in his eyes silenced her, and her Meth craving demanded her attention. Quickly she nodded, and reached for the bag. She expertly filled the pipe, and he flicked open a lighter. A few seconds later, she felt the amazing rush fill her body, starting with her brain and radiating out to her fingertips and toes.
God, that feels amazing, she thought, and dreamily smiled. Yeah, baby! I fuckin’ love Meth!
When she opened her eyes, she found that life had sped up again. The world was brighter, clearer, and more vivid, and she was in control of it all. Anything was possible, everything was perfect, and suddenly the idea of dancing on stage sounded like fun. In fact, she could hardly wait to get on stage, because Jingles would see how well she could dance, how beautiful and sexy she was, and he’d want her even more.
He’ll never let me go!
He watched the Meth completely take over Crystal’s body and mind. She surrendered herself easily to the drug; her muscles relaxed, and a happy smile curved her lips as she looked around the room. Finally she set the pipe down, stretched sensuously, and teasingly wiggled her eyebrows.
“I’m ready to dance, baby,” she said softly.
Jingles smiled down at his newest conquest with a pleasant expression on his face. She had no way of knowing that his gentle smile masked a true predator who had no conscience, felt no remorse, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill its prey.
You have no idea how you’re going to dance for me, Crystal, he thought triumphantly. But you will soon.
Cliff woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, and a mouth so dry that swallowing was painful and nearly impossible. He took a few deep breaths, suffered through several dry-heaves, and eventually opened his eyes.
I need to sit up.
He didn’t even come close. Groaning, he closed his eyes, and lay back against the cool hard floor. The throbbing in his head got worse, and he pressed both hands against his temples, silently willing the pain to stop.
Finally he opened his eyes again, and stared up at the ceiling. I recognize this place, he thought blearily.
He realized he was looking up at the ceiling of the clubhouse, and memories of the previous night came flickering back. The club had thrown a big party, and he’d drunk heavily all night long.
Despite his thudding hangover, he began to smile. It had been an awesome party. The best party of his life, and he’d been treated almost like a fully-patched member.
Bachelor and promotion party, he thought randomly. Fuckin’ awesome!
Shane had been confirmed as the club’s new second-in-command at his bachelor party, and it had been a really rowdy affair. Liquor had flowed freely all night long, and strippers and groupies had competed for everyone’s attention. They’d all ended up naked, of course, and at one point he’d been almost covered by naked women. Every club member had been sworn to secrecy about whatever happened, because no one wanted their old ladies to get jealous.
Naked bitches all over the place!
He was still surprised that Shane hadn’t done anything with the women; once he’d come up for air, he’d just shaken his head, and headed for the bar. Everyone else had given him a really hard time, but he’d just smiled and invited them to have fun in his place. They hadn’t needed to be told twice, and within seconds, all the available women had been very, very busy.
Raven had showed up a few minutes later, and Shane had disappeared upstairs with her. The party had continued in his absence.
Crystal didn’t make it. Fuck!
Cliff had hoped to see her, but Rowdy had slyly told him that Crystal was dancing at a new club, and Raven didn’t want her hanging around Shane anymore, so she hadn’t been invited. Then he’d laughingly picked up a stripper, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her away. Cliff had laughed at the sight of the girl ineffectively kicking and pounding on Rowdy’s back…but that was the last thing he remembered clearly.
It had been a wild night.
He finally managed to sit upright, retched again, and waited several more minutes before trying to stand. He had no idea how much he’d drunk last night, but he vaguely remembered slamming shots, one after another, in some sort of competition with Coke. That had been completely fucking stupid, because Coke outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, he thought with a wry smile.
The bar was only about fifteen feet away, but in his current condition, it might has well have been a mile. He decided to try and make it anyway, and stood up carefully, swaying wildly on his feet. Fortunately there were a few tables scattered along the way, so he was able to brace himself while he staggered over to the long mahogany bar.
Its scarred surface felt cool beneath his widespread palms. He laid his face against it for a few moments, and concentrated hard on breathing in and out while he desperately hoped the room would stop spinning.
Gradually he was able to lift his head and peer around the room.
Damn, the bar is wrecked!
Tables and chairs were scattered everywhere, and an assortment of beer cans, bottles, and cigarette and cigar butts generously coated the floor. The mingled scents of beer, smoke, and more carnal odors were heavy in the air. Cliff could make out several bodies lying on the floor and on tables, and even one naked woman sprawled across the bar.
Blearily he smiled as he thought how much fun he’d had with the club. This was his home now, and the club was family.
Best fuckin’ family I’ve ever had.
He finally felt like he belonged somewhere…that he was special again. He hadn’t felt that way since high school. He’d been a star athlete then, and the teachers had given him passing grades even when he hadn’t showed up. The police had looked the other way when he’d raised hell with his friends, and the girls had been eager to drop their panties for him.
He’d thought he could follow the same pattern when he’d started college on his football scholarship. But grades and good behavior had apparently been important at Texas A&M. Who’d have expected that? So he’d gotten kicked out…and everything that had made Cliff special had dissolved like mist on a bright, sunny morning.
He’d finally landed a bartending job at the Ancient Mariner, but he’d hated it. The work had been anonymous and boring, and his only excitement had been trying to bang the waitresses. He’d quickly learned that without football, he wasn’t much of a catch. His success rate with the waitresses had been embarrassing.
The club had changed all that for him.
Once I’m patched, I can break the fucking rules, kick ass and live free, getting respect and pussy wherever I fucking go. It’ll be just like high school all over again, because the police look the other way whenever the Blades get rowdy, too!
He glanced at the naked stripper lying unconscious on the bar, smiled to himself, and thought of Crystal. When he became a patched member, he’d look her up, and things would be different between them. She’d want him again, and he was certain she’d leave Tim to be with him. A faint smile managed to break through his hangover pain as he thought about kicking Tim’s ass again, just for grins. Just like in high school.
He made a note to ask where Crystal was dancing now, because he wanted to go see her. Even more importantly, he wanted to start laying the foundation for when she’d be his lady again.
Cristy will be mine again. That’s for damn sure.
The stairs overhead creaked, and his head whipped around. Shane and Raven were coming down, holding hands and whispering to each other. They stopped when they saw the condition of the bar. Shane started to grin, but Raven wrinkled her nose, made a face, and then covered her nose and mouth. When Shane said something he couldn’t here, she lightly punched his arm.
Eventually they saw him sitting at the end of the bar, barely able to form words. Shane nodded to him, and they carefully skirted the debris that littered the floor. He managed a faint smile as they approached.
Shane’s a lucky man. Raven’s drop-dead gorgeous. Stuck up, but gorgeous.
“Hey, Shane. Hey, Raven,” he said quietly, and tried to keep from wincing when his abused throat ached in protest. “How you doin’ this morning?”
Raven stopped, and took a quick step back. “Whoooo. Holy shit! You need a breath mint. Talk that way,” she said quickly, and motioned away from Shane and her.
Shane chuckled, and slid his arm around her. “Take it easy, baby. He had quite a night.”
“I know, and that’s fine,” she smiled, and waved her hand in front of her face. “I just don’t want him breathing in my direction.”
Despite his pain, he couldn’t help laughing, and Shane joined him. Raven stepped behind the bar, and brought him a bottle of water and three Tylenols. He carefully angled his face away from her. “God, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said indulgently. “I’ve helped Shane recover a few times, and I know what you need right now.”
He only managed to nod before he popped the tablets into his mouth. Then he tipped the water bottle back, and sucked everything down in one long pull. He gasped loudly when he was done, crumpled the plastic water bottle, and threw it into the already-overflowing trash behind the bar. Finally, to end his performance, he let out a long, loud belch.
Raven made another face, and her fiancé just shook his head.
“I hear you’re doing good work, Cliff,” Shane said, and nodded approvingly. “Thank you.”
He managed to smile and nod back. “Thanks, man. I’m loving life with the Blades.”
“Cliff?” Raven suddenly asked. “Are you the Cliff who used to work with Crystal?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with renewed interest. “I used to be the bartender at the Ancient Mariner restaurant, and Crystal was a waitress.”
She nodded, clearly appraising him. “I thought so. Crystal mentioned that you’d joined the club as a Prospect. Didn’t you two used to be an item?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. We dated in high school, but it was over real quick, because I fucked it up.”
“That’s too bad,” she commiserated. “I used to work with her at the club, and she talked a lot about you.”
His headache began to recede as Raven’s words registered, and he actually sat up straighter. He leaned closer, and. she immediately pointed her finger away from herself. He got the message. “What did she say?” he asked, carefully turning away.
He was obviously still hooked on the blonde stripper, and that made her smile maliciously. “Just that she had a lot of fun when you dated, and she was sorry you broke up.” She told the lie easily and without a single qualm, then shrugged. “I just got the sense that she might still have feelings for you.”
His smile widened. “Thank you. That’s good to know.”
“Ugh,” Raven said, and made a face. “The other way, Cliff! Damn, you really need a breath mint.”
He covered his mouth and laughed while Shane nudged Raven, and they said goodbye.
The minefield took careful navigating, but finally they made it outside. The sun was shining brightly overhead. Raven took one deep breath, then another. “God, it stunk in there!”
“Yeah. It was quite a party.”
She smiled up at him, then pulled him into a deep kiss. “Thank you for spending it with me, and not with my friends,” she said softly, referring to the strippers who had showed up.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I’m not much of a partier anymore.”
“I’m glad,” she confessed, and hugged him tightly.
After they’d slid into his Camaro and were cruising down the highway, he glanced over at Raven. “What’s the deal with Cliff? Does Crystal really like him?”
She laughed, and shook her head. “Fuck, I don’t know. She did talk about him a few times, but I don’t know if she actually had feelings for him or not.”
“Then why did you encourage him?” he asked, puzzled.
“Because he hates Crystal’s husband,” she replied smugly. “I mean, really hates him. And she mentioned several times that Tim can’t stand him, either. Apparently he used to pick on Tim during high school, and now they can barely stand the sight of each other.
“Now that Crystal’s delivering Meth,” she pointed out with a sober frown, “Tim could be a risk to the club. If he ever finds out that she’s not only delivering it, but using it, too…it could be bad for everyone. You said so yourself.”
“Yes, that’s true,” he allowed. “But I also told you I had a contingency plan for her.”
Patiently she shook her head. “Shane, honey, you have a contingency for Crystal…but not for Tim. You’re assuming he’ll sit back and just let her leave him. I don’t think he will, and it’ll only take one call to the police to get them looking closer at the club. And,” she added, stroking his thigh, “looking closer at my husband.”
He had to admit that she’d made a good point. He’d never considered Tim as a threat because the man was so easygoing. He adored Crystal, but Shane had always figured he’d just get over it and move on if she left him. But Raven was right. If he didn’t get over her, and decided she needed to be rescued, he could be a big problem.
“So you think she might leave Tim for Cliff?” he asked, sliding a glance in her direction.
“Hell, no,” she retorted, then considered it for a moment. “Although I guess it’s possible. But Cliff’s a bull in a china shop. He’s completely infatuated with her, and he’ll pursue her hard. If he does, it will drive Tim crazy. He’d probably love the chance to screw up their marriage…and if he gets them to divorce sooner, that would benefit the club. Shoot, if we let him give her drugs, she’d probably leap at the chance to leave her husband.”
“Wow,” Shane said slowly. “You’ve really put some thought into this!”
She nodded. “I’m sure he’d love the chance to beat the crap out of Tim again. And if we let him supply Crystal with Meth, she’ll fall right into his bed. Then Tim would be out of the picture. Worst case, Cliff can earn his patch by eliminating him.
“When the club no longer needs Crystal…and that time is rapidly approaching…then you can put your contingency plan in place. The little bitch can see how she likes life as a fucking Meth whore,” she said bitterly.
“What about Cliff?”
She blinked at him in confusion. “What about him?”
“He’s going to want Crystal,” Shane said emphatically. “What happens if your master plan doesn’t work like you think it will?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Cliff’s a guy, and a shallow guy at that. He can find another stripper. I’ll introduce him around. A lot of the girls at the club like bikers, especially patched members. He’ll forget about Crystal fast enough. He just wants a hot girl to fuck; it doesn’t have to be her.”
“Wow,” Shane commented, winking at her. “You’re damned smart!”
“Thank you!”
“Kind of scary, too,” he teased.
She flashed him a wicked grin, then leaned close enough to whisper, “That’s right. You better stay on my good side, mister!”
They were nearly all the way to her small house, where they both lived now, when she suggested, “Y’know, I could help you with your business.”
Her quiet voice drew him back from the plans he’d been making to sell his trailer, which he rarely used now. Indulgently he smiled at her. “Oh, yeah? How could you help me?”
“The delivery girls. I could manage them for you,” she offered. “I could scout for new talent, monitor them, and let you know if they’re unstable.”
He hesitated for a moment, then chose his words carefully. “Baby, don’t take this the wrong way…but I don’t want you involved in what I do. Besides, I’m letting Rowdy and Coke run the day-to-day operations now.”
She rolled her eyes in mute frustration. “I’m not stupid, Shane. I know your business is dangerous. Hell, anything related to the club is dangerous—and Rowdy and Coke are men. The women will manipulate the shit out of them to get what they want. Let me run the girls for you.”
He appreciated her offer, but…
“As my old lady, you’re protected and insulated by the club,” he reminded her. “If you get directly involved, you’ll become a target just like any patched member.”
“But Shane, I’ll be your wife.” She leaned against his shoulder. “Legally I can’t be forced to testify against you.”
They were at a stoplight, so he slid an arm around her in a tight hug, and kissed her forehead. “It’s not the police I worry about, honey,” he countered. “Our competitors are a risk, and so are other rival clubs. Hell, even our customers would pose a risk to you.” Somberly he shook his head. “Believe me when I say that the police are the least of my worries. They’ll treat you good. I can’t say the same for the rest of the dirt bags out there.”
Knowing he cared so much about keeping his personal life separate from his business…as much as possible, because the club was family, so there was never a clean break between them…made her feel good. But still she persisted, “I’m the perfect person to run your delivery girls, and it frees up the club to focus on other areas. Please? I want to help you! And I don’t want to wake up one day and learn that you’ve been arrested, or worse, and I could have done something to prevent it. I won’t lose you.”
She looked so serious that he knew this was important to her. “Okay,” he murmured, despite his reservations. “Let’s give it a try.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome…but I don’t want you interacting with Crystal,” he said firmly. “I know how you feel about her, and it would be bad for business. She’s our most productive mule,” he added neutrally.
“Fine,” she said coolly. “I won’t work with the blonde Meth whore.”
“Thank you. Our business partners like her, and they have plans for her future. I don’t want you getting involved with her at all. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He felt a moment’s cool relief, then thoughtfully narrowed his eyes. “Do you really think Tim could be a threat to the club?”
“Definitely,” she exclaimed. “He loves Crystal. As long as she’s in his life, he’s definitely a threat.”
He still had trouble envisioning quiet, meek little Tim as a threat to the Lone Star Blades…but part of his job was nipping trouble in the bud before it could reach up and bite the club’s collective ass. He spent the remainder of their drive home considering what to do about Tim.