What the fuck are they? More importantly, did he call me a whore? Why am I a whore?
“Um...I’m no one’s whore.”
He leans in close and the race of my heart feels like betrayal.
“Are you sure?”
I gulp again. “Yes.”
“Is there a problem here?” Relief floods at the sound of a familiar voice. Stepping to the side, the Vice President of the Devil’s Cartel turns around and I see Joel at the doors, his fists clenched at his sides.
“She’s with you?” The biker asks, folding his thick arms across the wide expanse of his chest.
Joel steps out from the doorway and the door closes behind him, clicking shut with finality. With confidence, Joel swallows the distance between us. What is he—oh! I startle as he slides his hand around my hip—too close to the curve of my ass for my liking—and pulls me tight against his body.
“Yeah, she’s with me.”
My heart pounds in my ears as the stranger closely examines Joel. Please don’t recognize him. Please don’t recogni—”
“I know you.”
Shit.
“You’re one of Skull’s men.”
Joel’s body tightens, his fingers digging painfully into my hip. I shift my hips, but his grasp doesn’t let up.
“I was. Not anymore.”
“Hmph.” The stranger’s dark and dangerous stare pegs Joel in his spot and a small eternity passes before he retrieves a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket.
“If you ever see that motherfucker again, tell him Stoic is looking for him.”
He drums a thick, callused finger along the bottom of his packet.
“No.”
My heart stops. So does the biker’s tapping.
“The next time I see him I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life and then put a bullet through his fucking head.”
A staring contest breaks out, neither Joel nor the stranger backing down. I have to admire Joel for his courage. This strange man makes me want to pee everywhere, like a terrified puppy. By some miracle, the tiniest smirk tugs at Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome’s lips.
“Good. We’re on the same page then.”
He extends his cigarette packet to me. All of the butts are aligned. Except for one. One juts out above the others and I assume it’s for me. Without hesitation, I take it and he offers one to Joel who shakes his head. Without a word, the mysterious man walks off, stomping from the porch, down the stairs and into the parking lot.
I suck in a large inhale and hold it until my lungs threaten to burst then I blow it out.
“You smoke?”
“Nope.” I toss the cigarette off the porch. “But I wasn’t about to turn him down. Who was that anyway?”
“That was Stoic. VP of the Devil’s Cartel Motorcycle Gang from Exeter, California.”
“California? What’s he doing here?”
Joel drops his hand from my hip.
“Settling some stuff with Joker, probably. They’ve got a lot of history.”
I lean in close, so close I’m certain no one else can hear me.
“You brought us to a biker bar? Are you nuts?”
He grins. “This is the only place Skull’s eyes won’t see us. Besides, they’re friendlies. Relax.”
Joel turns away and re-enters the bar.
Awwwwooooooo! The dog howls sending tendrils of fear barreling through my stomach. I am not waiting around out here. I snatch the handle in my hand and yank the door open.
“I need a drink.”
Nine
****
The Joker and the Crow
Jai
“Ughhh!” The old man groans as I lower him onto the black, wooden bench under a flickering streetlight.
Exhaling, I sit his phone down next to him.
“All right, old man. The ambulance should be here soon.”
“Thanks for your help, Pal. Do me a favor...” He hisses through his teeth, sliding his body on an uncomfortable angle. “Stay away from Crow’s daughter. Otherwise, you’ll end up like me.”
I dust my hands, unable to help my smile. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Speaking of women—and problems—that pretty lil’ thing you’re with. What’d you call her?”
“Emily.” I say, flatly.
“Emily...she yours?”
“Is she mine?” I shift my weight onto my left leg and fold my arms across my chest.
What kind of question is that in this day and age? Do I own her? Do I possess her?
No.
Women aren’t like cars or animals and they certainly don’t come with ownership papers. So, no. I don’t own her. That being said, do I want her only for myself? Would I kill to keep her for me and me only?
Yes.
In that sense, she is mine. I could open up that can of worms with this old man, but then I’d be wasting more of my time out here, arguing with an old man instead being of inside, enjoying my last night. So, to answer his question I tell him she’s mine.
He nods, clenching his teeth as he pushes himself up into a seated position. “I, uh, I don’t tell a lot of people this cuz they’ll think I’m crazy, but you helped me so I’m gonna help you.”
With a suspicious scowl, amplifying the swelling to his right eye, he glances around us, making sure no one is listening.
This is ridiculous. He’s lucky Emily cared enough to help him. Before her, I was siding with Joel to leave this guy in the dirt. Who knows where he’s been or what he’s involved in. Being tossed from the porch of the bar that belongs to the Twisted Sons MC tells me he isn’t someone I should be helping.
“No. It’s okay. You don’t need to return the f—”
“I’ve got a gift.”
I glance away, uninterested. “A gift?”
He hisses, exhaling in sharp, short spurts. “I can feel the vibes of a person’s future—not everyone—but some.”
Silence falls, allowing the sounds of night to be heard clearly. This man, the man who has had his face smashed in, his ribs broken, and his lung punctured, claims he can feel the future—not see it. Feel it. What kind of bullshit is that?
“How much have you had to drink? That’ll hinder how many pain killers you’re going to get.”
He clenches his ribs with bony fingers. “I’m telling the truth. Your girl, Emily, she’s in for a lot of trouble. I felt it.”
I roll my eyes and turn away, stepping off the thin slab of desecrated concrete and onto the hard gravel. “Yeah. Okay. You keep yourself safe until the ambulance arrives, all right?”
“You don’t believe me?” He calls out, his voice drowned with pain. “I’m telling the truth. When her life starts falling apart don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I stop in my tracks and swipe at my top lip. Is it a bad idea to indulge him? If he is in fact talking shit then what have I got to lose? I turn around, stuff my hands into my pockets, and step back onto the concrete. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be enabling his behavior.
“I’ll humor you.” I say. “What’d you feel?”
In the distance, I hear sirens. They loop, over and over, growing closer and closer.
Suddenly in a hurry, the man shifts on the seat again, panting harshly. “I looked at her and I felt pain...an unbearable pain my belly.”
He’s kidding, right? Perhaps I should remind him how we found him.
“You were beaten and thrown off a porch.” I point out.
He shakes his head. “This is different. I felt it only when I looked at her. There was a strange ripplin’ sensation over me lips. The guy...the one who told her to ignore me...he’s your kin?”
I nod.
“His pain is connected to hers...I felt embarrassment...and pleasure.”
I flinch. Pleasure? That’s not right. That can’t be right.
“Now I know you’re talking shit, old man.”
Joel would never betray me like that—neither would Emily. Besides, pleasure doesn’t necessarily mean it’s sexual. I get pleasure when I allow myself to eat a nice chocolate mousse after a week of disciplined eating. Still, uneasiness settles in my stomach as the seed of jealousy grows. The mere thought of them together turns my stomach.