Buried Biker (12 page)

“I guess.” A thought that had been nagging at the back of my mind pushed to the forefront. “Are you the one who put that picture on the front page of the paper?”

Her laugh sounded like breaking glass. “Yes, of course. Good picture, don’t you think?”

I found it humiliating, but I didn’t think she’d understand if I tried to tell her that. “Not really.”

She pouted. “I thought it was good. It just simmered of violence, some just past and the potential of more to come.”

Maybe. But
I
was the one who had looked violent. Not the image I wanted to project. Pretty obvious she hadn’t taken how it felt to be the one in the picture. The memory made me flinch. I took a deep breath and said, “The caption said I was arrested for rape and kidnapping and assault.”

She gave a little smile, like we were talking about the weather or something equally mundane. “Well, weren’t you?”

“If I had been, I wouldn’t be here right now. I was never charged. Just questioned and cut loose.” I skipped over the night in jail.

“Oh.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Sorry about that. I was going by what the detective said.”

And she hadn’t bothered to check her facts. That wasn’t very professional for a reporter.

“So,” she said. “What can you tell me about the, ah,
incident
that lead to that arrest?”

The coffee was good, much better than my usual instant, but there was a harsh taste in my mouth when I took a drink. “Not a damn thing.”

“Wasn’t the victim your girlfriend?”

I was beginning to get used to the stabbing pain that twisted my gut every time I thought about Kelly and the rape. “I know her. And I spent some time over her place. But no, she’s not my
girlfriend
.”

“That’s not what
I
heard.” She smiled and gave me that look out of the side of her eyes. “A big handsome man like you? Why not?”

I felt heat rise in my face, and I wondered if I was blushing.
Was she flirting with me?

I didn’t
do
flirting. Neither did Kelly. Why would this woman be interested in me? Despite what she said, I was pretty damn sure I wasn’t her idea of a “big handsome man.” She was trying to soften me up and confuse me, so I’d blurt out uncensored answers to her probing and possibly personal questions. Although I had to admit her method was infinitely more pleasing that Belkins’ and Montgomery’s interrogation routines, I was familiar with the basic techniques. I wondered if Montgomery had ever considered bringing in a sexy female cop as his partner to help him ask questions when he needed answers. Sure would beat an alcoholic, burnt-out cop with a quick hands and a quicker temper.

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “I’m waiting…”

I took a swallow of coffee. “Kelly and I work together. Sometimes we spend time together outside of work.”

Licking her lips, Carissa asked, “Have sex?” I looked at her. She looked like a model in a magazine cosmetics ad. Or a movie star on a poster. Not somebody I could relate to. “Sometimes. But I don’t see that it’s really anyone else’s business. We’re both adults, and we’re both single.”

“But she’s been
raped.
You can’t tell me most men don’t have a rape fantasy.”

I bent the thin coffee stirrer as I considered. Where was this going?
The Rothsburg Register
wasn’t one of those supermarket tabloids that traded on sex and scandals, mostly made up. I pulled my legs back under my seat.

“I don’t know about most men. I don’t.” I swallowed the last of the coffee, put down the cup and started to slide out of the booth.

“Why are you leaving?” she pouted. “Didn’t you know that some women have fantasies of being raped?”

“No, I didn’t.” I got to my feet. My first instinct had been right. I didn’t like where she was headed, and I didn’t like where it was ending up. And I didn’t like that I’d let myself be manipulated.

The catchall expression, “ain’t right in the head” came to mind. Her, definitely. Me, possibly. I had to get out of there.

“I think you’re putting me on. You can’t be as naïve as all that.”

“You’d be surprised,” I said, heading for the door.

“Do you mind if I contact you again?” she called after me.

I didn’t answer that.

Too bad about the breakfast burritos.

Chapter 7

T
HE
N
EXT
M
ORNING
the bikers were waiting for me when I got off work.

About ten of them lined the street. The headlamps glistened off the asphalt which was wet from an early morning rain, and the engines of the choppers growled. As usual, I was one of the last of my shift to leave. The few stragglers just ahead of me glanced quickly toward the bikers, then away, and hurried to the parking lot.

Old Buckles sat on his trike in the front of the group, his beefy arms crossed in front of his chest. Despite the damp chill, his jacket was unzipped. The other Predators leaned on their bikes or shielded their smokes from the wind. All wore leather jackets with club colors.

Funky Joe revved his engine and scowled in my direction, but he didn’t say anything. His jaw was swollen, and his eye black.

I stopped in front of Old Buckles and looked him in the eye. “You looking for me?”

He grinned, showing his blackened teeth. “Yeah.”

Glancing around me, I said, “Can we move it a little bit away from the plant entrance?”

“You afraid we’re gonna freak out the employees?”

“You probably already done that.”

He laughed. “Yeah. One of those little office worker ladies wouldn’t get out of her car. Waited until a few men were walking by and went in with them.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Guess not. But we been here for a little while already. Why should we move now?”

“Look, you know how hard it is to get a job when you’ve got felonies. I got a good job. I’d hate to have them think you guys were gonna come around on a regular basis to see me. Might make them look for a reason to fire me.”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t have gotten the construction job I got now if I didn’t know the crew chief. He’d done time with me a few years back. He knows I don’t mind working.”

“It won’t make no difference to you guys if we move a few blocks down. But it could make a big difference to me.”

“And why should I care about that?”

“Same reason the crew chief went to bat for you and got you the job.”

Old Buckles sat there grinning. He was enjoying this little exchange. “Which was?”

“Give a break to a fellow con who can’t catch one no way else.”

He threw back his head and laughed again. “You done talked me into it. How about the park down by the railroad tracks? Throw a bit of a scare into all the druggies down there trying to score.”

“That’ll work.”

“Course, that’s if they’ve crawled out of their holes yet.”

I nodded. “True, that.”

“You wanna ride down there?”

I didn’t, and I knew I there were a few problems with that idea, not the least of which was the possibility of being seen by the police, but all I had going now was bravado and Old Buckle’s precariously benevolent attitude toward me.

He inched forward in his seat, and I swung up behind him.

“Hope nobody don’t see me giving a ride to somebody who ain’t no wearing colors,” he said, revving the throttle and releasing the brake.

That made two of us who hoped nobody saw us.

We roared the few blocks toward the park, the other bikes following us. They pulled up over the curb and the weedy lawn, onto the cracked blacktop of the basketless basketball court.

I climbed off and brushed my hair back.

Someone passed a blunt to Old Buckles. He took a deep drag and gestured toward me, coughing and re-inhaling the smoke.

“No thanks.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “Why not?”

“You have any idea how long that stays in your system if they test your piss? Or in your hair?”

“So who’s gonna piss you?”

“My PO, for starters.”

Old Buckles spit onto the pavement and looked at me. “I still haven’t figured this whole thing out yet,” he said.

“Oh?” I wasn’t about to offer any ideas.

“Kelly, she said she wasn’t gonna be nobody’s old lady. Girlfriend, maybe, but not a real solid thing. She seemed to take a shining to you.”

I nodded, turning to look toward the railroad tracks I liked nothing better than spending the evening with Kelly and her kids, fixing dinner, playing games, reading stories to the kids. Except, of course, going to bed with her. I tried to keep my agony from showing on my face. From what I knew of Old Buckles, I was pretty sure he’d never understand what Kelly and I had going.

He shifted on his seat. “So I don’t get why you’d tell somebody else they could screw her.”

I jerked around to face Old Buckles squarely again struggling to keep my voice from raising to a shout. “What?”

“Black Rose—you know Black Rose?”

Cautiously, I said, “I know who she is. But not I don’t know her well or anything.”

“According to her, you know her a whole hell of a lot better than that. She says her old man, Razorback, and you agreed that you could screw each other’s ladies.”

“That’s news to me,” I said, shaking my head and trying to think straight. “Kelly’d never go for that.” Even if I did. Which I couldn’t imagine myself doing.

“Well, that’s part of what I can’t figure out.” His jaw jutted out stubbornly, and his eyebrows furrowed over his glowering eyes. “Kelly says Razorback never said nothing like that to her. But he was pretty high. And she’d maybe been drinking. He just started ripping her shirt off, and when she said leave her alone, he smacked her a few times.” His face hardened.

Taking a deep breath and choking back anguish I said, “Sure wish I’d been there. Would have come out different.”

He raised his eyebrows and stroked his braided beard. “Why the hell weren’t you there?”

“Where’s ‘there’?”

“Kelly’s house. Living room. Kids had gone with their pop for the weekend.”

“You know I’m on parole. Trying not to violate. Associating with convicted felons—which is exactly what I’m doing now—is grounds for violation. So Kelly and I decided to cool it while you’re living there.”

He glared at me. “What kind of a wuss are you, worrying so much about violating that you stay away from your girlfriend?”

“The kind of wuss who did twenty years and has close to another twenty backup time.”

He grinned. “Didn’t like being locked up, huh?”

“Nope.”
Who did?

“It ain’t so bad. I been doing nickels and dimes ever since I can remember.”

“Mine’s been straight time. Since I was sixteen.”

He looked me up and down. “I can see where you might not want to go back. ’Specially if you might never see light of day again.”

“You got that right.”

Shrugging, he said, “Why would Black Rose say you and Razorback made that deal if you didn’t?”

“I couldn’t tell you that. This is the first time I heard about it.”

“She says she got the best end of the deal.”

“Huh?” Had she actually told everybody I’d had sex with her? My muscles tensed, and I turned my head again to stare down the tracks. Where was this going? I fought to keep my shock surprise from showing on my face. Wouldn’t do to let this crowd know it was hitting me hard. They made a habit of exploiting weakness whenever they saw it.

“Black Rose says she never had it so good, that you’re great in bed.”

I turned to face him again and felt the blood drain from my face. My jaws clenched so I had trouble getting any words out. “She said
what
?”

“That you know what a woman likes and don’t mind taking your time to make sure she’s getting it.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “She’s more used to guys who just take what they think what they got coming to them. Like Razorback done with Kelly.”

Was there any way to make Old Buckles believe me? “Didn’t never go there.” What else was she making up? And
why
? Kelly was the only woman I’d ever had sex with. She’d had to show me what she liked. And while I certainly loved to take the time to do what Kelly liked, I wasn’t about to go screwing other women.

Especially not biker chicks. They had notoriously possessive boyfriends, although it was more about control than jealousy. These bikers were serious about their women being their property, to screw or lend out whenever they felt like it. I couldn’t imagine thinking that way about another human being. Especially Kelly.

“You don’t got to worry about nobody’s reputation or any of that shit with me,” Old Buckles said. “’Specially not if he gave you the go-ahead.”