Shameless (4 page)

In the time it took for Layla to blink, Jesse was on top of Gunner on the floor, pounding his head into the concrete.

They writhed lake a pair of serpents, twisting and turning against one another, each getting in a single blow before the other momentarily overpowered them. Layla stared at their violent dance, her jaw loose and her eyes wide. Were they really fighting over her?

Blood spurted suddenly from Gunner’s nose, and as he recoiled to bring his knee up into Jesse’s face, Bear stepped in and yanked both of them into the air.

“Goddammit, stop!” he roared, suspending each boy off the ground as if they weighed nothing at all. “I’m tired of this high school bullshit! You boys are far too old to still be at each other’s throats like this. What’s done is done, and all that matters now is the welfare of the Marauders.”

Once they stopped moving, Bear set them back down and clutched his stomach, grunting as he stumbled backward into his seat. Camel was on his feet in a flash, lifting up Bear’s wifebeater to take a look at the old incision running across his abdomen.

“It’s fine,” Bear assured him as he pulled Jesse’s half-eaten bowl of beef stew toward him. “Just phantom pains, is all.” He took a mouthful of potato, then glared at the two of them again.

“Gunner’s right,” he said, then added: “In part. We gotta do somethin’ about the Los Muertos before they do somethin’ about
us.
That warehouse is full’a product, and half of it is outta Mexico City. Fuckin’ with their supply won’t just cripple ‘em; it’ll put a black mark on ‘em as far as the cartels go, too. You wanna make a statement, that’s one helluva way to do it.”

He took another bite, this time of the soft, tender stew beef he’d so lovingly prepared for the occasion, and said: “But Jesse’s right, too. Shut the fuck up and leave the poor girl alone. And learn your goddamn place while you’re at it.”

Gunner wiped his bloodied nose on his jacket sleeve and licked the remainder off his lips. His eyes fixated on Layla for a moment, hungry and wild.

“Go wipe your face,” Jesse said, and this time, Gunner didn’t argue. He retreated from the room, kicking the door open and disappearing into another hall.

“You okay?” Layla asked, noticing the discoloration started to form around Jesse’s jaw line.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “But you shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t your place. You’re not one of us.”

Layla set her jaw. She was getting pretty tired of people making her feel like she didn’t belong.

“What if I wanna be?” she asked.

“Yeah?” Jesse said, whirling on her. “That’s what you want? Fine. Get your ass on my bike and fuckin’ wait there until I show up. You wanna be a Marauder bitch, then I’ll treat you like one.”

Layla opened her mouth to object. She didn’t want to be anyone’s
bitch
—she wanted to prove that she was more than that. But the look on Jesse’s face wasn’t one she wanted to argue with, and under the weighty stare of the rest of the Marauders, she obeyed him, waiting quietly on his bike with her face in her hands as she wondered what the fuck she’d gotten herself into.

The Marauders rode at nine-p.m.

It was exactly the time of her curfew, but it was too late for her to be thinking about that now. There were bigger worries on her mind—like being an accessory to arson in a turf war between the Marauders and Los Muertos.

She clung to Jesse tightly as they sped toward the county borders. The desert was cold as hell at night, and she only had her tank top and Daisy Dukes to keep her warm. Bear had afforded her his old jacket before she’d gone—apparently, it was an honor he’d not bestowed to anyone else, no matter the weather—but it completely dwarfed her with its size.

Still, it was better than nothing, which was exactly what Jesse was giving her.

He hadn’t said a single word to her since the fight with Gunner. Though he’d seemed so self-assured when they were alone, it was apparently a different story in front of his club. Reputation was probably everything to them, and she’d tarnished his by stepping into the middle of a schoolyard scrap. Worse yet, she was a
girl.

Layla sighed and closed her eyes. She thought she’d left behind the most glaring of chauvinistic attitudes once she’d graduated from middle school, but if tonight had proven anything, it was that boys’ clubs were still alive and well. She felt so incredibly idiotic for wanting to be a part of it.

But it was too late now. She’d made her choice. If she asked Jesse to take her home at this juncture, he’d probably just leave her on the side of the road.

What the hell would I tell my parents?
She wondered.
Hell, what am I going to tell them now?

Her car privileges were reinstated only on the condition that she meet her curfew and stay out of trouble. Right now, Layla was doing neither, and as far from town as they were, she couldn’t even tell if her parents had called while she was out.

Fuck. They’re going to kill me.

But only if Los Muertos doesn’t, first.

Looking over Jesse’s arm, Layla could see the warehouse Gunner had talked about in the distance. Jesse cut his lights, and the rest of the club followed, swathing them in near-total darkness. Besides the light of the full moon and scattering of stars burning in the pitch black sky, the Marauders were entirely shrouded in night.

They surrounded the warehouse on their bikes, then one-by-one, they shut off the engines. In the silence that followed, Layla could hear the labored sound of her own breathing and the rush of her heartbeat in her freezing cold ears.

“What now?” she whispered to Jesse.

“We fuck shit up,” he replied coolly. “What else?”

He dismounted his Harley Davidson Night Rod and left his helmet hanging from the handle as he trudged through the short tufts of dead grass spread sparsely over the red soil. He turned after a moment, looked back at Layla, and said:

“Well? Are you comin’ or not?”

Layla clumsily slid off of the leather seat, clutching Bear’s jacket tight around her slender shoulders as she followed Jesse toward the warehouse. It felt like a funeral march.

Gordo and Camel met them near the entrance. Gordo looked pale, and Camel’s grim expression didn’t do much to instill any confidence in her. Jesse took a deep breath looked around.

“All right, where’s Gunner?”

“He’s scopin’ it out,” Camel answered, nodding toward the side of the warehouse they couldn’t see. “You know they’ll have the place guarded.”

“Yeah, but on a quiet night like this, there won’t be more than one or two of their lower tier hangin’ around,” Gordo said, wiping nervous sweat from his wrinkled brow. “With any luck, we can outgun ‘em send ‘em off before anybody gets too trigger happy.”

“Outgun them?” Layla asked, her stomach dropping.

“Relax,
chica,
” Gordo said with a smile. “We ain’t gonna kill ‘em. We’ll just show ‘em how many more guns we got than they do, and they should back down. No one in Los Muertos is expectin’ this kinda payback—especially not from us.”

She swallowed hard. “Why not?”

“The Marauders haven’t exactly been known for pullin’ shit like this,” Camel said, glancing around warily and keeping his eyes on the spot Gunner had disappeared into. “We’ve been kinda low-key up until now, and Los Muertos has been runnin’ the show as far as weed and crystal go.”

“Meth?!” Layla almost yelped. She lowered her voice hastily. “They’ve got meth in there?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not a lab,” Gordo said, but somehow, Layla felt less than reassured.

“I wanna be clear on somethin’,” Jesse said as he followed Camel’s gaze into the darkness. “We ain’t here to take over the Los Muertos supply chain. All we’re gonna do is burn this fucker down. I don’t want anyone touchin’ a single bag of ice. We clear?”

“Roger that,” Camel said, squinting past the warehouse. “Hey, I think I see him.”

Layla looked. Gunner was moving away from the side of the warehouse, clinging to the shadows as he jogged in their direction. He had something over his shoulder—something that glinted in the limited light.

As he got closer, she finally saw what it was.

Gunner was carrying a shotgun.

“Just the two,” he said once he was within earshot. The bridge of his nose was purple and black. Jesse must’ve broken it during the fight. “Shouldn’t have any problems takin’ ‘em.”

“Good,” Jesse said. He looked like a weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. “Which way we goin’ in?”

“Side door. I got it jimmied. We can fit two at a time through there, and we’re better off in numbers.” He sniffed a little, then winced. “They’re carryin’.”

Jesse shifted. “Anything to worry about?”

Gunner shook his head. “Just some nines.”

Again, Jesse looked relieved. “All right,” he said, looking to Camel and Gordo. “Gunner’n I’ll take point. You two come on in after. Beauty queen…” He trailed off, staring at Layla. “…watch the bikes.”

Layla grimaced. It was so cold out. But it was probably better than rushing into a potential firefight in the warehouse.

Gunner gave her a look as the four men moved toward the warehouse in the dark. She wasn’t sure, but he almost seemed happy that she was staying behind, and not in the snide way that she’d expected. Was it possible that he didn’t really want to see her harmed?

She took a seat on Jesse’s bike and wrapped the excess leather of Bear’s jacket tight around her body like a cocoon to keep out the cold. As big as it was, it still didn’t cover her bare legs, and the wind stung her face like tiny shards of glass embedding into her flesh. She slid off the seat and huddled on the other side of the bike, letting it shelter her from the gusts blowing in from beyond the warehouse.

A crash broke the silence. Then yelling. The Marauders had broken down the door.

Layla pulled the collar of the jacket over her head like a hood. Hopefully that meant it would all be over soon.

Her muscles clenched as she heard the sound she hadn’t been expecting to hear: the thunder of a gunshot reverberating through the steel chamber of the Los Muertos warehouse.

She spun, peeking up over the Harley, but she couldn’t see what was happening inside. Worse yet, she couldn’t hear anything, either.

Her guts twisted into a tight knot.
Jesse…

She crouched back behind the bike as the front door to the warehouse opened. A moment later, Camel emerged, waving his pistol in the air to grab her attention.

Layla sighed and slumped against the leather and chrome.
Thank Christ.

She crossed the dry expanse of desert toward the warehouse, breaking into a run as she got nearer to the door. The momentary exertion warmed her up, but wreaked havoc on her throat. By the time she stepped inside, she was certain that she was already getting a cold.

The two Los Muertos club members were sitting back-to-back on the floor, their hands behind their heads as Gordo spoke to them in Spanish. Gunner was confiscating their weapons while Jesse looked around, a bright orange can of gasoline dangling from his left hand. In his right, he held the pistol that Layla hadn’t even noticed before.

How long had he been carrying it? Since the fight with Gunner? Before, when he’d met her at her house?

“Easy peasy,” Camel said from behind her, and she jumped when she heard his voice. “No worries, beauty queen. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

“What’re you gonna do with them?” she asked, nodding to the Hispanic men glaring at her from the floor.

“Strip ‘em and send ‘em home to their mommies,” Camel answered with a smile. “We ain’t interested in killin’ nobody—just sendin’ a message.”

“Then what was the gunshot for?”

“A warning,” Camel said, glaring at Gunner. He didn’t return his brethren’s stare. “Somebody got a lil’ trigger happy, but it all worked out.”

“I guess so,” Layla breathed. “What happens after they tell the others? Will Los Muertos retaliate?”

“Probably,” Gunner said from across the room. “I wouldn’t let ‘em live. It’s askin’ for trouble.” He shot a sideways glance at Jesse. “But of course, it ain’t up to me.”

If Jesse heard him, he showed no signs of it. He was too busy dumping gasoline on the wooden grates stacked throughout the room.

“What if Gunner’s right?” she asked Camel quietly. “What if they come after you? I mean, the Marauders only have the six members. Los Muertos are probably a lot bigger than that, right?”

“It won’t come to that,” Camel assured her. “This ain’t the big leagues. Oasis is a small place. There’s a lotta things you can get away with here, but murder ain’t one of ‘em.”

“It ain’t murder if nobody finds out,” Gunner muttered under his breath.

“Hey, Jesse,” Gordo called out. “There’s a lotta weed here, man. You wanna burn that, too?”

“Not all of it,” he answered. “We did good tonight. I think we can take a few souvenirs on our way out.”

“Thank God the night won’t be a total waste,” Gunner piped up again as he stowed one of the Los Muertos’ knives into his boot. “C’mere, beauty queen. Help me strip these guys.”

Layla looked to Jesse for an order, but he didn’t even acknowledge her. Sighing, she crossed the room to Gunner and did as she was told.