The Filthy Few (Iron Disciples MC) (16 page)

“Nice try Gimp,
but my sources tell me my brother is pre occupied at the moment with the trap
he is about to walk into.”

“You set a trap
for your own brother?” I ask.

“Of course. He
thinks he got this wonderful Intel on the guy who shot up his friend and he’s
going there now. What he doesn’t know is I leaked that little bit of Intel to
him to set him up. Something you should know about me Gimp. I’m not a rapist.
That’s not to say I won’t take advantage, but I don’t prefer rape. I’d rather
have a willing victim. So here’s what I’m going to do for you. I’m going to
make you my willing victim.”

“Never you
mother fucker!”

“Oh I think you
will.”

He reaches in
his pocket and pulls out a cell phone. He punches a few buttons then holds it
for me to see. There’s a number on the screen.

“If you agree
to fuck me, then I will let you dial that number and warn my brother about the
trap he is walking into.”

“No way
shithead!”

“You’d rather
resist me than be a willing participant and save your boyfriend? You’re a cold
woman Gimp. All you gotta do is drop your panties for me, and then when I’m
done you get to call Cade and warn him off. What do you say? I promise I’ll be
reasonably gentle. I’m no sadist. You might even enjoy yourself. But be
advised, time
is
running out! In fact, by my best calculation, you have
about three minutes to make your decision. You make the right choice in three
minutes then we have our fun and you get to call your boyfriend afterwards and
save his life and his brother’s lives as well. Do you
really
want their
blood on your hand? You alone have the ability to save so many lives.”

He pauses,
looking at me meaningfully. His expression softens for a brief time, the he
gets that icy look in his eyes and his voice hardens.

“So what’s it
gonna be bitch!”

What’s it gonna
be bitch? I don’t know, what is it gonna be bitch?

“I see you’re
not convinced.” He says and he starts fiddling with his cell phone. “Here we
are. So the building where your boyfriend and his buddies are approaching has
been wired, if you know what I mean. We just so happened to have visuals
approaching the area. Would you like to see them?” He asks, softening the tone
of his voice.”

When I don’t
answer he decides to show me. He pushes a button and shows me his phone’s
screen. I can see a street with a half a dozen motorcycles approaching from the
far end. Then the camera changes to a different view.

“Those are my
guys,” he explains.

His guys are
laying what looks some kind of explosives across the alleyway where the guys on
bikes are headed. From a rooftop I can see another man holding what must be
some kind of detonator. The camera switches again and the guys on bikes are
even closer.

“You’re running
out of time, Gimp.”

My whole body
is trembling. My heart is hammering against my chest. I have never been forced
into a position like this in all my life. I think back over my life as a
stockbroker, looking for something to compare to this but I’m drawing a blank.
I have never been in a position where other lives depended on me. Now they do
and I have to think fast. At least that’s something I am used to doing;
thinking fast. My job requires I sift through and analyze data, trading
patterns and volume, et cetera, et cetera…

I try to tell
myself that this is not my problem. I’m not an outlaw biker and I’m not some
biker’s old lady so why should their blood be on my hands? Cade and his guys
know the risk. This is their world that they chose, while I am being thrust
into it against my will. My stomach is starting to feel the effects of the
stress. I’m nauseated and find myself swallowing constantly to keep down the
bile that keeps threatening to spew forth. So I am supposed to consent to being
raped to save people I don’t even know; well, except for Cade. I don’t even
know I can. In fact I don’t think I can willingly submit. How can I even call
myself Cade’s girl if I’m not even willing to make a sacrifice to save his
life?

“What’s it
gonna be Gimp? You gonna be my bitch or not?”

He can’t kill
his twin brother. He’s gotta be bluffing. He said I had three minutes to decide
or it would be too late to save them. I’m pretty sure it’s been over five. He’s
fucking bluffing!

Time for me to
grow a backbone. “No, I’m not going to be your bitch so get the fuck out of
here!”

“I am so
disappointed in you gimp. So very disappointed.”

He reaches in
his pocket for something. Oh shit, it’s a detonator! He’s reaching…it’s his
phone. I called his bluff. He dials a number.

“Do it!” he
hisses into his phone when someone answers. Blow the fuckers to kingdom come!”

“No!” The word
is ripped from my soul.

I called his
fucking bluff, except he wasn’t bluffing! He just fucking snuffed out his own
brother! I cannot fucking believe this shit. My leg gives out and I crumble to
the floor. My crutches scatter. Sharp pain shoots up through my bum leg making
me wince. My poor Cade set up by his own brother and helped to die by his
woman. I can’t believe I did this to him. Finally I look over at Eddie. He’s
watching something on his phone. He notices me watching him.

“I’m sorry
gimp, would you like to see? Here, let me rewind it to the beginning.”

He presses couple
buttons then hands me his phone. I take it in shaking hands and immediately
drop it on the floor.

“Let me get
that for you.” He says and snatches it up. “I’ll hold it, you just watch.”

And I watch. A
half a dozen bikes approach the place where the explosives have been set up. I
was in horror, with a certain morbid fascination as my boyfriend and his
buddies enter the kill zone. Then it happens. The screen of the small phone is
one orange and black fireball for about five seconds then the blast and the
flames give way to one giant, ugly oily black plume of smoke. It’s so thick I
can barely make out the detritus left over from six Harley’s and their riders.
I don’t have the heart to look anymore. I know what I have done and I hate
myself for my weakness. I could have saved my man and five of his buddies but I
chose to be selfish and now their hot, slick blood is covering my shaking
hands. My stomach revolts. I look around frantically for a trash can or
something to vomit in or on. I don’t see anything so I unleash a torrent of
vomitus on Cade’s glossy wood floor.

“Oh now that’s
just gross, Gimp. Couldn’t you have made it to the bathroom? Or at least a
waste can anywhere? This place is gonna stink to high heaven soon as the
afternoon heat sets in.”

He hands me a
rag. “Go clean yourself up. Then you can start on the floor. I can’t believe
you actually puked. I expected better from you, but instead you just barf like
some teenaged pussy; that’s really pathetic. You know before your little
spewing incident I really wanted you. I thought there was a strength about you,
but all I see now is some scared little girl. Yeah I know, that’s a turn on for
a lot of guys, but not me. You’re just a pathetic little tart that my brother
is screwing! You have a nice life gimp!”

Without looking
back he just turns and leaves me to my misery. When the door slams shut I collapse
on the hard wood, burying my face in my arms heedless of the growing pile of
bile next to me. I close my eyes but find I all I can see are six bikers being
blown to bits over and over again in HD TV. It’s like the images have been
burned into my retinas and I can’t un-see them as much as I would like to. As I
lie here curled up on the floor my heart begins to ache. I feel like a deep
gash has been opened up inside me and my soul is bleeding out. I reach up with
a tentative finger and touch my cheeks just below my eyes. Dry as a bone.
What’ll it take, I wonder, to let go… What form of calamity has to take place for
me to actually cry? I feel hallow. As a black and orange fireball decimates my
lover and his brothers, the search goes on in my soul for feelings that makes
us human. And if I can’t find them, does that make me something else? I have to
wonder if I would have told Cade about his brother’s visit, would that have
changed things? Would he have reacted any different? I can’t afford to go
there; not if I want to retain some semblance of sanity.

A sudden
thought strikes me. I have to leave here. At some point Eddie is going to come
back to gloat and to no doubt rape me. How am I supposed to leave? My car isn’t
even here. I suppose I could call a cab. But who’s going to help me gather up
my shit? Stacy. I’ll call her and offer to pay her to help me get out of dodge,
so to speak. If I call anyone else they’re likely to start asking questions. At
least Stacy knows better than to question me. She also knows what’s up and
won’t judge.

Twenty minutes
later there’s a knocking on the front door.

“Who is it?” I
holler.

I hear a voice
but I can’t make out who it is. It seems a little soon for Stacy to be here already.

“Who?” I ask
again.

“I’m gonna huff and I’m gonna
puff, and I’m gonna blow your house down!”

“Stacy shut the fuck up!”

I do my best to hobble to the
front door and let her in. She takes one look at me and makes a liar out of me.

“Oh my god, what the hell happened
to you? You look like shit. Did Cade dump you? No, Eddie came back didn’t he.
What the hell is going on? Why’d you call me in the middle of the night anyway?
Don’t you-”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up
already! Geeze Stacy, I called you because I can usually count on your
discretion. What the fuck’s up with the twenty questions shit?”

“Sorry, so you need to go home
now? Right now in the middle of the night?”

“Yes, before Eddie comes back.”

“What did he do to you Morgan?”

“He’s dead.”

“Eddie’s dead? What’d you do to
him?”

“Not Eddie, his brother, Cade. Cade
is dead because I couldn’t me a simple decision. His blood is on my hands
Stacy.”

“What are you talking about?”

Before she’ll take me home she
makes me sit down and tell her the whole story from the beginning. It’s a hard
story to tell, especially when it comes to the part where I have a decision to
make. I am tempted to try.

“I don’t get it,” she finally
says. “You had an impossible decision to make. You were being asked to submit
yourself to rape and battery and then to jus trust the guy that he wouldn’t
blow up your man anyway. There was only one way that could have gone, and
that’s with you refusing to let him rape you. You did the right thing. There
was no other choice to make and I’m sorry it got your boyfriend killed but you
can’t blame yourself honey.”

“He’s dead Stacy! I can never
change the fact that I could have saved six people today and I chose to be
selfish. Death is permanent, rape is not. They’ll never come back but I could
have tolerated a few minutes of sex with Eddie.”

The more I talk the shittier I
feel. There is no way I can spin this to something positive and that’s saying a
lot coming from me. As a stockbroker I have always prided myself in being able
to turn anything negative about a stock into something positive. I
can
turn this into something positive; or at least I should be able to.

Stacy interrupts my black
thoughts. “Yes, death is permanent, but so is rape; I should know.”

“What the fuck are you talking
about Stacy?”

Suddenly she gets deathly quiet.
Her face turns pale and she sits down abruptly. Something is wrong; very wrong.

“Stacy what’s…did someone…rape
you?”

She nods miserably.

“Oh fuck! I am so sorry Stacy, I
had no fucking idea. When did this happen?”

“Remember when I took ten days off
for a death in the family a couple years ago?”

“Yeah…you said your grandmother or
something like that died. I thought that was a lot of time off for someone that
was not even your parents…

“My grandmother was already dead
Morgan. I took the time off after I was raped. Back then I was taking the train
to the city and back every day and I couldn’t bear to get back on that train.
Especially since I was raped just outside the train station after a late night
at work. I was wrecked! That’s why I finally sprang for a car and pay twenty
dollars a day for parking in the city. I cannot bear to ride the train again
after that happened.”

“I am so sorry Stacy. Did they
ever catch the guy?” I ask.

“No…because…I couldn’t face going
to the police and being questioned, then being torn apart in the court room.”

“Oh my god Stacy, we would have
supported you. We would have helped you. You wouldn’t have gone through it
alone.”

“Morgan…I would have been totally
alone. No one else would have been on that witness stand but me. Me, that’s the
only one who could have been there for me. Not you, not anyone else. I would
have had to go through this on my own and at the time I just wasn’t strong
enough for that. It’s been two years and it is still with me every day of my
life. You say death is permanent, but I’m telling you, so is rape! You never
get over it. You would have still regretted saying yes to that guy and you
couldn’t trust that he would have even kept his end of the deal. After going to
that much trouble to set up the explosives I seriously doubt he would not have
gone through with it.”