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Raptor

After I left Adriana, I took a cruise on my
bike, to clear both of my heads, and then headed to Griffin’s.  I met up with
Tank in the parking lot; there were shadows under his eyes and he looked like
he hadn’t slept in a week.

“Hey, man,” I said, shoving my key into the
front of my jeans. “You’re looking pretty rough.”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Even after I called you?”

He opened the door to the bar and we went
inside. “Fuck no. I heard Krystal’s phone go off, right after we hung up, and
when I read the text message sent to her, I was too jacked up to sleep.”

“Message? What message?”

“Some douchebag named Gary sent her a message.
It said - ‘Thanks for everything’.”

“Oh yeah? Did you ask her about it?”

“No.”

“Why not?” I said, thinking the message could
have meant anything.

“I was too pissed off. I mean, what kind of
asshole sends a girl a message at four in the morning? Like he can’t get her
out of his mind.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I needed time to think.”

“Could be nothing,” I thought, knowing that it
could also be a lot. After getting screwed over by Brandy, I wasn’t sure what
to believe myself. “She ever mention a guy named Gary?”

“No. Not at all.”

“You know you gotta ask her.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m almost
tempted to just say ‘fuck it’ and find some new pussy. I don’t like this
feeling jealous kind of shit. Too many girls willing to keep me satisfied, you
know? Without the baggage or the worries.”

“I feel you, Brother. I wish I’d have never met
Brandy. She was bad news. ”

Two of the club whores walked by us as we sauntered
over to the bar.

“Hey, Raptor, looking good,” said Cheeks, who
I’d banged a couple of times. “You need some company later, let me know.”

“Will do,” I said, staring at her ass as she
walked away. I had to admit - it was as nice as fuck, thus her nick-name, but it
didn’t compare to Adriana’s. Not from what I’d seen in those tight jeans of
hers or felt under my fingertips. I imagined her wearing a G-string and my dick
perked up again.

“Fuck,” I muttered, adjusting myself.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Tank tapped his fingers on the bar impatiently.
“You know, I should just go and fuck the shit out of the new chick,” he said,
eyeing the curvy blonde on stage with the big plastic tits. She was in her
thirties and not much to look at above the neck, but even I had to admit, she
knew how to work a pole. She’d shown me just how well, the week before. “Take
my mind off of all the shit for a while.”

“Just don’t be late for the meeting, or your
Old Man will have your balls,” I said as the bartender, Misty, set two icy-cold
beers in front of us.

“No shit. Last time I was late, I thought he
was going to have a fucking heart-attack, he was so pissed off. Wasn’t even my
fault that I got a flat tire.”

“That’s because it was flat the night before,
and he knew it,” I reminded him and then winked at Misty. “Thanks, Darlin’”

Misty tossed her jet black hair over her
shoulder and smiled. “Anytime, Raptor. Just so you know, the kitchen is open.
You boys want me to put in an order for you?”

Tank’s lip curled up. “I’ll take an order of
you, lovely lady.”

Misty laughed. “Really? And what about your
pretty little blond, Krystal?”

“What about her?” he asked, reaching over the
bar to grab a toothpick. “You thinking about a threesome?”

She giggled. “You are so bad.”

“Baby, you have no idea.”

Still smiling, she turned to me. “So, you
hungry, or what, Raptor?”

“I’ve already eaten,” I said, taking a swig of
beer.  

“To be honest, I haven’t eaten yet,” said Tank,
wiggling his eyebrows. “And what I’m craving isn’t on the menu.”

She leaned forward on the bar, her tits bulging
out of her halter top. “And what is it that you’re craving?” she asked
seductively.

“Whatever you’re serving,” he said, staring at
her chest.

Misty lowered her voice. “What if I’m willing
to serve you both? At once.”

Tank chuckled and looked at me. “You game? I’ll
take the front and you can have the back.”

 “No, thanks. She’s all yours.”

“You sure?” pouted Misty, grabbing my hand. She
put it on her left tit.  “I’ll let you fuck me in the ass.”

Laughing, I removed it. “Tank, you’ve got your
hands full.”

He took a swig of his beer. “Does that offer
stand for me, too?”  

She winked at him. “Honey, I’ve had you inside
of me and I know what you’re made of. I don’t need any trips to the E.R.”

Slammer walked out of the back room and
scowled. “Put your dick back into your pants, Tank, and meet me in my office.
We need to talk. You too, Raptor.”

Tank straightened up. “Can’t it wait?”

“Nope. Misty, can you put an order in for a
burger and onion rings?”

“Sure thing, Slammer,” she said, hurrying
toward the kitchen.

He stopped next to us. “You two should stay
away from Misty,” said Slammer in a low voice. “Girl’s crazy. She even fucked
that asshole, Breaker, last night.”

Tank’s eyes narrowed. “No shit? What the fuck?”

“She told me she only did it to see if she
could get some information. Like she’s some kind of secret agent on a mission.”
He pointed to his head. “I admire her loyalty to the club, but the girl’s not
all fucking there.”

“He could have messed her up pretty badly,” I
answered.

“She probably wouldn’t care. In fact, she likes
it rough,” said Tank, smiling grimly. “Asked me to choke her, once.”

Slammer grunted. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Did you?” I asked, as Tank leaned against the
bar again and watched the stage.

He shook his head. “Honestly, I tried and then
stopped when she kept begging me to do it harder. I just felt too weird about
it. I like rough sex as much as the next guy, but the choking thing, that’s
fucked up.”

“She’s one loony bitch. You want your dick
waxed, stick with Bunny, Shy, or Cheeks. They won’t kill you in your sleep,”
said Slammer as Misty walked back out of the kitchen.

“The order is in. You want me to bring it back
to your office when it’s done?”

Slammer looked around the bar. It was dead.
“That or send Blue back with it. I know he’s here somewhere.”

“He took a magazine into the bathroom,” said
Misty, nodding toward the restrooms. “He’s been in there for a while.”

Slammer scowled. “Fuck. Okay, you bring me the
food,” he said, walking back toward his office.

“You want to meet up later?” Misty asked Tank,
as we were preparing to follow him.

“No. Gonna head out to the club after this.
We’ve got church at three.”

“I know. Text me later tonight, if you change
your mind.” She looked at me and winked. “Either of you. I’m game for whatever
you want.”

Disturbed by the fact that she’d screwed
Breaker, I grabbed my beer and followed Tank into Slammer’s office.

“Close the door,” said Slammer, sitting down
behind his desk.

Tank did. “What’s up?” 

I sat down across from Slammer and noticed he
had a file on his desk.

Slammer lit a cigarette and waited until Tank
was in the other chair. He leaned back. “Mud still isn’t backing down.”

“I didn’t think he would. Breaker’s his
nephew,” said Tank.

“I know, but what’s right is right. Letting
Breaker get away with raping my future step-daughter, is a punch in the face. I
know he did it. Mud knows he did it. I need vindication.”

“So, you’re absolutely sure it wasn’t one of
the other Devil’s Rangers?” asked Tank.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” said Mud, who was looking
every bit of his fifty-seven years. He rubbed the gray stubble on his chin and
sighed. “Jessica saw the patches on his cut. It was theirs.”

“She remember anything else?” I asked.

“To be honest, she won’t even talk to me. Just
to Frannie. But, the description she gave, fits. And we all know what a fucking
whack-job Breaker is.”

“This was personal,” said Tank, staring at his
beer bottle. “I know it was. He must have known who she was.”

“I agree,” said Slammer. “And I’m not letting
that sonofabitch get away it.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I’ve ordered a hit on him,” he said, opening
up the folder. Inside was a picture of Breaker and a sheet of paper with his
address and other personal information scribbled across it. “I need you to
deliver this to our guy.”

“Why don’t we just do it ourselves, and get it
over with?” asked Tank.

“That’s what they’re expecting. We do this out
in the open, there will be an all-out war. It has to look like something else.”

“So what?” he said, his eyes hardening. “We
need to send them a fucking message. All of them.”

“I agree, Son. You know I do. But,” he blew out
a cloud of smoke. “I’m getting married, soon, and I promised Frannie that I
wouldn’t land my ass in jail. I don’t want either of you going, either. Not for
that bozo.”

“So, who’s going to do it? The Judge?” I asked.

He nodded. “I don’t want anyone else to know
about it, though. Not even the rest of the crew.”

“Why not let them in on it?” asked Tank.
“They’re going to figure out you had something to do with it, anyway.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Why?” I asked. Slammer never made any
decisions like this without letting the others know about it, first. Of course,
he didn’t order many hits on people, either. This was only the second one I’d
heard of.

“I think one of them is an informant.”

“A cop?” I asked.

He grunted. “No, not that. A stoolpigeon. For
Mud.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” asked
Tank.

“Information has been leaked. Information that
neither of you even know about.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” asked Tank,
looking pissed.

“Mud asked me how to get in touch with Jordan
Steele. He shouldn’t even know that we’re connected. That I’ve ever had any
business with him.”

“Who is this Jordan Steele?” I asked. I’d never
heard of him.

Slammer looked me straight in the eye. “Your
brother. The Judge.”

Adriana

My mother went back to the shop, to check on
business, and I took a shower. When I was finished and blow-drying my hair,
Tiffany called me.

“Holy crap, I just heard what happened,” she
said. “That fucking asshole.”

I walked into my bedroom and started searching
for something to wear. “I know,” I replied, pulling out a black cashmere
sweater from the dresser. I threw it on the bed, next to my new white denim
skirt, and decided they’d look good together.

“Did you call the police?”

“No,” I replied, rifling through my underwear
drawer. I held up a white silk thong, one that I’d purchased one a whim, and
decided to pair it with a black and white pushup bra.

It’s not for Trevor
, I told
myself.

In fact, I’d decided not to meet with him later.
No matter how sexy and sweet he’d been, I didn’t need to get involved with
someone who had admitted that he was some kind of an outlaw. Especially after
what my mother had told me. Even if it was just for sex. Amazing sex.

“Why not?” she screeched. “That guy should be
locked up!”

“It’s going to be taken care of,” I said,
remembering Trevor’s words.

“What does that mean?”

I sighed. “I think he’s going to be roughed
up.”

She was silent for a few seconds and then
laughed. “You can’t be serious? By who? Oh, wait… by Tank and his biker
friends?”

“Something like that.”

“I doubt that’s going to help. It might scare
him, for a while, but only really sick fuckers do that kind of stuff. He’ll
start up again, eventually. Seriously, Adriana, Jason needs to be locked up
before he rapes some other poor, unsuspecting girl.”

“Easier said than done. I don’t have any real
proof that
he
did anything,” I answered.

“You were drugged. That’s evidence enough.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t see him do it, and I’m
sure I don’t have any more of it in my system. I don’t know if you heard, but I
threw up all over him before he could even get my sweater off.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I know it’s
not funny but… I’m just picturing his face when you puked all over him. That
must have been priceless.”

I smiled. It was scary at the time, but
thinking back, he deserved that and so much more. “He was pretty pissed. Great
timing on my part, though.”

“Obviously, it couldn’t have been any more
perfect,” she agreed.

“I just wish it would have happened before I
got in the car with him. He dropped me off in the middle of nowhere and I had
to call Tank’s friend for a ride.”

“Tank’s friend?”

“Well, I tried calling you,” I replied, not
ready to tell her too much about Trevor, yet. After the conversation with my
mother, I wasn’t too sure about him myself, anymore.

“I know, I’m sorry. I actually ended up going over
to Jeff’s. I told Krystal, but she forgot.”

Jeff was a guy who she sometimes hooked up with
after clubbing. They used to date in high school.

“It’s okay.”

“You know, I wonder if the other guys were in
on it,” said Tiffany, sounding angry again. “Gary and Brian. And… what was that
other guy’s name? Lucas?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I don’t know if they knew
about it.”

“Fucking assholes.”

“Have you ever seen any of them before?” I
asked, knowing she hung out at the clubs frequently.

“Not that I remember. I mean, it’s possible, I
guess. I may have just never noticed those guys.

My phone vibrated. “I gotta go,” I told her.
“It looks like my mom’s trying to get a hold of me.”

“Okay. Call me later.”

“I will.”

I hung up and called my mother back.

“Can you come in, a little earlier?” she asked.
“Gerald’s got a migraine and we’re swamped with customers. I need you to take
customers.”

“I’ll be there within the hour,” I told her.

“Thanks, Adriana.”

“No, problem.”

We hung up and I exchanged the sweater and
white skirt for a short-sleeved black dress, knowing that my parents had always
preferred their salespeople to dress more formally. 

As I was putting my hair up, I thought about my
father and how much I missed him. He’d been both of our rocks and had spoiled
me rotten, growing up. The thought of someone shooting him and then laughing
about it, brought tears to my eyes.

How could anyone give such little regards to a
man’s life
?

Especially someone who was so much more than
what those robbers had been. My father had been a kind man. A decent man.  He’d
been involved with the community and had given to charities. He’d even
volunteered his time at the local shelter, during the holidays, to remind
himself that anyone could fall into hard-times.

“It could happen to any of us,” he once said to
my mother when she’d first complained about him leaving us on Christmas Eve, to
volunteer. “One day you have everything, the next, you lose your job and
struggle to put food on the table for your children. Look at the presents under
our tree, Vanda. Imagine that there’s nothing there.
Nothing
. Or nothing
in the refrigerator. No ham. No Turkey. Not even a piece of bologna. Then, imagine
what it’s like to have to look into your child’s face and tell them that there
is no Santa Claus because you can’t afford to buy them a gift, let alone a full
meal.” Then, she said, he grabbed the credit card and went to buy as many toys
as he could carry to the shelter, after purchasing a Santa-Claus suit. It
became a tradition and the following year, Vanda began to help him while I
stayed behind with my grandparents, not having a clue as to what they were doing.
Then, when I was old enough to understand, I helped wrap presents and even went
with to deliver them. It wasn’t until we moved to Iowa, after they’d been
robbed, that things changed and the volunteering stopped. Dad was diagnosed
with lymphoma and his health began to deteriorate rapidly. Despite chemotherapy
and trying other kinds of homeopathic treatments, he died within eighteen
months.

Remembering our last moments together, I went
into the safe, under my bed, and took out the necklace my mother had given to me
when I’d graduated high school.  The one that my father had designed, for the
occasion, but hadn’t lived to see it. It was chunky, with white-gold chains, and
a round pendant that contained a large dark blue sapphire. My birthstone. The gem,
itself, had to be close to ten karats, and worth more than my new car.  

I put the necklace on and blinked away the
tears in my eyes. I decided to wear it to work. Not only in honor of my father,
but as a reminder to why I needed to stay away from Trevor, no matter how hard
it was to resist that sexy, blond biker.