Havoc (Los Desperados MC) (12 page)

“How many wheels you got on that truck?” one of the bikers asked me.

I whipped my head around. I had forgotten that there were other people in the bar with us. The last few minutes had felt like Julian and me were the only people on the planet. It was the first time one of the men had spoken to me with anything approaching respect. It was a begrudging sort of respect that came in the form of a question, but I was willing to take it. “My biggest rid had eight wheels, four per axle,” I answered staring into the biker’s bleary eyes and I had to fight back a smile when he gave me a nod of acceptance. Big rigs took real skill to drive and not everyone could do it. Changing gears alone in one of those trucks was harder for even the most experienced stick driver.

“What’s the weight on that?” another asked, leaning over the table to look me in the eye.

“Max a hundred and thirty thousand pounds, but we try not to fill it all the way up. It slows you down. I like a sixty forty eighty ratio, sixty percent legit goods as cover and forty percent the real merchandise with twenty percent of the overall truck left empty. Anything more than forty percent is too risky. If you get pulled over in a random stop and search you’re looking at losing a lot of merchandise and getting a decent sentence. Anything less and the cost of gas is killing your margins.”

“Nah, man,” another one called down the table. “Fifty fifty or it’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve seen too many guys get pulled over, searched, and caught with fifty percent. That’s my golden ratio, my lucky number. I don't like to mess with it.”

The men around the table all nodded. They understood. Bikers, like sailors, were very superstitious, myself included. There was just so much that was left up to chance when you went on a run. You could get stopped by cops, hit a detour, traffic, roadwork, rival gangs, or desperate thieves. After enough time you started looking for anything that might swing chance into your favor.

“You guys usually do fifty-fifty?” I asked turning to Julian who had been silent for most of the time we had been at the bar.

“Depends on the merchandise,” he said. “The guns and ammo take up a lot of room and they’re a lot bigger than watches and gold chains. So, anything less than fifty and it’s hard to make the runs worth it.”
“A constant struggle,” David said as he sat down to join us.

David had been sitting with us at breakfast and I was glad to see that he was up and moving around and not too hurt. Rick joined us, too, a clean bandage on his forehead. I had a feeling his doctors had told him not to drink. But bikers never listened to their doctors. A biker’s life was too short for Brussels sprouts and jogging.

I was still thinking about their shipping ratios. How would I feel driving a car that was half filled with illegal guns and weapons? I could see myself on the road, one elbow hanging out the window as I flew through the desert. Julian would be with me, riding his bike in front of me. Sometimes he would race ahead to scout out the exits; other times he would circle back to make sure we didn’t have any tails. The rest of the ride he would be with me, always in sight and in view.

And then when we got to our drop-off location, what would happen? We would have a house or a hotel room we could stay in. We could be in a different city every night, different bars and clubs and restaurants and then returning together to a hotel room and spending the night wrapped up in each other or sweating in the sauna. It looked so perfect in my head. Me behind the wheel and Julian in front of me. He would be calm and collected and in control; I would drive like an expert. We could be the best that anyone had ever seen.

The thought was tantalizing and Julian’s hand was riding high on my thigh and I couldn’t help but rub my knee against his as my hand found its way to his leg. I looked over at him and he gave me a little nod that told me that I was doing well with his brothers and he was proud of me. I liked that. I wanted to make him proud.

“You guys ever re-fuel without stopping?” I asked the crowd of men around me. “Because I have,” I finished after no one spoke.

“No way. You’re a liar,” David said with a snort, but he didn’t sound mad; it sounded like we were sharing a private joke. “The only thing that refuels in transit is Air Force One. Were you flying the president when you refueled on the road.”

“No,” I said with a smirk, “I had a truck filled with stolen merchandise. My orders were to not stop, no matter what. So I’m halfway through Death Valley and it’s the middle of the night and I’m running on empty. In prep we had rigged up a car with a tank on the backseat to act as a refueler. I was doing seventy, I locked in the speed and watched as this kid climbed onto the speeding car and hooked up the hose and then jumped over to my truck and hooked it up on the other side. There we were, locked in at seventy miles per hour with the hose between us, we refueled, de-coupled and the car went back to the headquarters and I kept going.”

David whistled in appreciation and tipped his drink towards me. “Very impressive,” he said. “You’ll have to tell me how you rigged up that car. That’s useful information,” the second part was directed at Julian who nodded in agreement, still silent. But his large hand was wrapped around my thigh and occasionally grazing the space above my thigh, the place I wanted him to touch more than anything.

“Rigging up the car isn’t too hard,” I said. “The trick is getting someone who isn’t scared to drive it. It turns the car into one big gas tank, any kind of accident and that things gonna leave a crater in the earth big enough for a family of four to live in.”

Rick snickered and said, “I could do it.” With a rogue smile on his face and a nod. “Sounds like a fun ride.”

But I was having a hard time focusing on the conversation. Beneath the table Julian’s hand had made its way up my inner thigh and was now massaging right at the top of my leg. I couldn’t help but lean against him if only for the contact. The drinks had gone straight to my head and I felt pleasantly buzzed. Everything around me seemed suffused with energy and life, and there wasn’t a frown or unhappy person to be seen in the whole bar.

There was a liveliness to Los Desperados I hadn’t expected. They were a lot like Julian. On the surface he looked like a giant, all muscles and terrifying strength, but underneath there was a creature capable of feeling and showing immense passion and thoughtfulness. Los Desperados appeared to be nothing more than simple thieves who liked to show their strength, but underneath that they were a family and they were very smart. 

I wanted to kiss Julian. I wanted to feel his warm lips against mine; I wanted the scruff of his face to caress my cheek. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and pull me to him and kiss me until I lost my breath. But I couldn’t. Los Desperados couldn’t know about what Julian and I had become to each other. It was still too dangerous; they were willing to drink with me, but did they trust me? And what about Julian and his place in the gang? I didn’t want to be the person who took all of that away from him.

But it didn’t stop me from wanting him and I slipped my hand under the table where it found his and I wrapped my hand around his larger one. I needed to feel his rough skin on mine. It wasn’t enough to be next to him or to lean against him; I needed my skin to touch his. I needed to feel his warmth and I almost gasped when he squeezed my hand back.

“I’m gonna dance,” I said. I had been watching as more and more people joined the dance floor. The music was good, it was hip and sexy and I couldn’t help but sway to it in my seat, and then I thought: why stay seated?

I slid away from Julian’s touch and headed for the dance floor. I made my way into the middle where I could blend in with the crowd. I was still an outsider and a potentially dangerous one. At that moment I didn’t want an entire bar filled with bikers staring at me. I just wanted to dance. Once I felt safely hidden in the crowd I began to move, swaying my hips and moving my arms to the beat.

I closed my eyes and I felt familiar hands wrap around my waist and a scruffy kiss caressed my neck and I turned to wrap my arms around Julian.

I wrapped my hands around his neck and leaned against him, and he nudged me back towards a dark corner where we were partially hidden from view. It seemed like a futile gesture at best. People were going to see us, but maybe Julian didn’t care anymore, maybe seeing the way the club had banded together around me had changed his mind.

It had started to change my mind, as well. I didn’t want to and I didn’t intend to, but I felt so at home with Los Desperados, almost more than with The Bandits. The Bandits were a macho gang and it had been hard being the sole female drive;, I had become the best only because anything else wouldn’t have been tolerated.

The Bandits would never have done anything like this. They never would have thrown a rager after being attacked. If it were us, we would have spent the night in the clubhouse on full-alert sleeping in shifts and planning our revenge. Big Mike would have kept everyone awake with his ranting and raving and they would never have made an impromptu dance floor; the Bandits never dance.

I looked up into Julian’s dark eyes and gripped him a little tighter and I felt his hand as it moved from my waist farther down until he had cupped one of my cheeks with his hands. He began to massage my ass roughly, pulling me a little closer each time he grabbed. His other hand was on my hip and turned me towards him and I smiled and obliged.

There was a strong baseline to the song and I moved my hips with the rhythm, grinding against Julian in time with the music. He began to move with me and we were wrapped around each other as we moved to the music. I couldn’t wait anymore; I needed to kiss him. I stood up on my tiptoes and grabbed his hair in my hand and pulled him down to me and kissed him, slipping my tongue over his as his hands grabbed me even tighter.

“Daniela,” he whispered into my ear. “What are you doing to me?” It came out like a sigh and whatever I was doing I wanted to keep doing it.

I reached up and kissed his neck, biting and nibbling as he held me so tightly I was almost lifted off my feet. He brought my face up to his and kissed me deeply. Then he actually did sweep me off my feet, picking me up and spinning me around until I was pressed against the back wall. He took my hands by my wrists and pinned them against the wall as he kissed me deeply and passionately and he pressed himself against me as I gasped for air.

Then the song changed, and it was like breaking a spell. He let go of my hands and backed away a few inches, but I didn’t want him to go far. I wrapped my arms around his neck and again we began to move with the music. As I moved against him I could feel the sizable bulge in his jeans and I didn’t even try to hide my smile.

“What are you looking so pleased about?” he whispered into my ear. The music was so loud, it was the only way we could hear each other. The strange mix of the music and his whisper right in my ear made me shiver as goose bumps flew over my arms.

“I don’t know,” I countered, whispering into his ear. “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”

“The gun is in its holster at my side. So it must be you,” he whispered grabbing my ass and pulling me against him, his bulge pressing against my stomach.

I had stop myself from undoing the buckle of his belt right there on the dance floor. “So, where are you going to sleep tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find somewhere,” he said. “The back of a pickup truck, a park bench, or maybe just out under the stars somewhere,” but he was smirking at me and I knew not to believe him. “But the where doesn’t matter. I know I’ll be sleeping next to you, spent and satisfied, and that’s all that I care about.”

I shuddered at his voice in my ear. He spoke with such easy confidence. Julian never doubted anything; he never second-guessed himself. He decided what he wanted and then he went and got it. I was the same way. I never had time for flirting or playing games. I dated like I worked: fast and hard.

His hands were still working on me and we were far back in the corner when he slipped his hand into my jeans and my panties and grabbed my bare ass with his hands. I gasped at the feeling and reached up to kiss him deeply. I wanted him so badly, under the stars, on a bench, at that moment I didn’t care.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered and then I looked him in the eye and let the longing I felt show. I wanted him and I didn’t care if he knew.

He looked down and nodded at me before taking my hand he led me out of the bar. No one in Los Desperados tried to stop us as we left; none of them asked us where we were going so early. Julian was high enough up on the chain that he could leave whenever he felt like it; he only answered to Marco and I had a feeling Marco knew exactly what we had been up to.

He handed me his helmet and I got onto the bike behind him wrapping my arms around his middle and leaning against him. The night air around us was cool and quiet. It was a dark night out, no moon and few street lamps. The headlight from Julian’s motorcycle lit up the little patch in front of us, but otherwise the world was darkness. It felt like we were the only two people alive and, at that moment, I would have preferred it. No war between Los Desperados and The Bandits, no loyalties or exes, just me and him alone under the stars.

After his talk of pickup trucks and park benches I thought we would have headed farther out into the county. But we went the opposite direction as he drove us to the heart of downtown LA. It was late, but the city didn’t seem to care. The streets were filled with cars and the sidewalks crowded with people as women in stilettos toddled from one club to another.

We passed five-star restaurants and celebrities until finally Julian turned in at the Ace Hotel. It was a modern and chic hotel that soared into the night sky above us. Limousines were dropping people off as we rumbled past a huge and elaborate marble fountain. The streets were paved with bright mosaic tiles and at first I thought he was just messing with me. Getting me excited about a fancy hotel just to take me to some trailer somewhere. It was exactly the kind of thing Paul used to think was hilarious.

When we pulled up in front of the hotel, Julian stepped off his bike and took his helmet off extending his hand to me as three valet attendants rushed over. A woman with a silver SUV scowled at Julian as she stood there with her keys in her hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked, taking my helmet off but staying on the bike.

“Getting a room,” he said.

“Here? This place is so expensive.”

“Don’t worry, Daniela. It’s like I said, Los Desperados make a lot of money. I can afford it. Come on. It’s nice inside. I promise.”

“You’ve stayed here before?” I asked as I took his hand and stood up off the bike.

“A couple of times,” he said before turning to one of the valets, a kid who couldn’t have been older than fifteen, and holding out his keys. “One scratch on this bike and I buff it out with your teeth.”

“Yeah, man, totally,” the kid said snatching the keys and, after taking a moment to gloat in front of the other valet drivers, he got on Julian’s motorcycle and revved it to life, taking it back into the parking lot.

I felt underdressed, but no one working at the hotel seemed to mind. Doors were opened for us and bellboys tipped their hats. The Ace Hotel was opulent; everything was cut from marble or made from a dark wood giving the room a stately air. All the flowers were real and all the busboys and concierges looked impeccable and the design was very minimal. It was chic and spotless and I had to keep my mouth from hanging open as we made our way through the lobby.

“I need a room for tonight,” Julian said to the smartly dressed concierge behind the counter. “I don’t have a reservation. Do you have any openings?” I watched as he slid over a black card wrapped in a hundred dollar bill and the concierge effortlessly slipped the money into his pocket.

“Mr. Gonzales, I’m sure we can find something for you,” he tapped for a moment on his computer and then said. “Well, all of our normal rooms are booked, but we do have the executive suite available. It’s one of our premier luxury suites. It has a king bed, a living room, Jacuzzi, and an excellent view. And since it’s vacant why don’t I give it to you at the normal room rate. You two are on your honeymoon, aren’t you?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“We certainly are,” I said, snuggling up to Julian and taking his arm in mine.

“Excellent. Ramon!” he called over to a bellboy. “Show Mr. and Mrs. Gonzales up to the executive suite, please.”

We had no bags, so Ramon just shrugged his shoulders and we walked across the lobby with him. It was probably the nicest place I had ever been. I couldn’t help but stifle a giggle once we were in the elevator with Ramon. Here we were, two bikers in the middle of a gang war spending the night in one of LA’s nicest hotels.