Steel Justice (A Romantic Suspense) (6 page)

Now I need to slip out and leave before he wakes up.

It will be awkward if we’re both here in the morning, making polite small talk and feeling weird around each other. He’ll have questions for me that I don’t want to answer. He might even offer to take me to breakfast, where we’ll sit across from each other in a greasy diner and tell lies about our life over bacon and eggs.

Or if not lies, then at least not the whole truth.

What can I say about my life anyway? Oh, by the way, I’ve been hanging out with a motorcycle gang who is on the run from the Feds. The president wants to bang me, so I split in the middle of the night. Now I am two hundred dollars away from being homeless and broke. You want me for a girlfriend? I’m a great catch.

Jesse would be out the door so fast he'd leave skid marks on the carpet.

It’s time to end this little adventure before it even begins.

No need to start something I can’t finish, and certainly no reason to drag someone else into my disaster of a life.

I carefully remove Jesse’s arm from across my body and slide out of bed. I don’t take time to do anything except slip on my shoes and grab my bag.

At least I knew better than to unpack any of my things. It was a nice gesture for him to offer sink space. Most men wouldn’t have thought of such a thing and instead would complain about a woman’s stuff cluttering things up. 

At the door, I turn to look back at him one last time.

What on earth am I doing? Leaving a naked, sexy hunk of man in a warm bed all alone?

Full of regret, but knowing I am doing the right thing, I slip out the door and leave him behind.

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I
wake up with a start and discover she’s gone without a trace. Can’t say it surprises me. Trish is skittish as hell and running from something. This morning was when I was going to find out exactly what that something is.

A man for certain.

A man with a very bad temper.

Might be a dead man if he ever crosses my path.

I’ve never had much tolerance for men who physically abuse women. Picking on someone smaller and weaker is for pussies. I’ve beaten the shit out of plenty of men for doing less than bruising up a woman.

The thought strikes me that she might have run straight back to him, whoever he is, full of apologies and promises to do better. I hope for her sake that she didn’t.

An image of the mottled bruise on her arm pops into my mind. If nothing else, I kept her safe for the night. Whatever happens today is completely up to her. If she’s fool enough to go running back to him, then there’s not much I can do to stop her.

I roll over and instinctively reach for my wallet on the bedside table. Looking inside, I check to see if anything is missing. When chicks sneak out in the middle of the night, they usually take something that belongs to me with them.

Money, cigarettes, knives.

One time even a pair of my leather gloves.

You name it, fucking broads will steal it if it isn’t tied down.

All of my cash is here. This really doesn’t surprise me either. Trish didn’t strike me as the type of gal to rob and run. Not her style.

Doesn’t matter.

It would have been nice if she could have hung around longer, but I have enough on my plate today dealing with MC business without worrying about some girl and her problems. These days I try to keep my life as drama free as possible. It isn’t always easy to do, especially where women are concerned.

A knock comes at the door. I hear a keycard slide into the lock before Sam opens it and sticks his head inside.

“Where’s your lady friend?” he asks, looking at the empty bed. “Gone already?”

“Yeah, she split,” I answer. I pull on a pair of jeans and slide the wallet into my back pocket.

“You struck out?” Sam claps his hands together in surprise. “Hot damn! That’s a first. You’re losing your touch, big brother.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. The girl has issues, and I haven’t got time to deal with them right now. I’m meeting with the Rebels today to hammer out a distribution deal. Want to ride with me?”

“Sure,” Sam replies. “Don’t have anything better to do except prowl the beach for babes. They’ll still be here when I get back. Bros before hoes, and all that.”

“Speaking of hoes, who else have you invited to Flint’s bachelor party? Roger told me to let him know by tonight how much booze we’ll need and how many strippers we want working the party.”

“Just a few guys. All friends of the MC. You know them.”

“Try to keep it under fifty guys. We don’t want things to get out of hand. Let’s not screw this up. We only get one chance to throw our brother a bachelor party he won’t forget.”

Sam grins. “Or won’t remember.”

“Either way, let’s make sure he has a fucking blast.”

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T
hings are definitely looking up.

Here I am, less than twenty-four hours from breaking away from the Liberators, and I have a better job and hopefully a new place to stay.

Jesse was right about Roger being a decent man. When I told him about my housing situation, he offered to give me extra hours before my regular shifts setting up the bar.

He also tipped me off that several of the other girls rent a big townhouse together. With his encouragement, I approached the group, and they were thrilled to have an extra person to split the rent. The more the merrier, they said.

I’m beginning to let myself think about the future beyond this week. If Roger would be willing to hire me permanently, I might be able to stick around Panama City for the rest of the summer. Save up enough for a decent car and decide what I want to do with my life.

All of my adult years, I’ve been so caught up with taking care of my mother and her addiction problems that I’ve never thought about what I want to do. It’s past time I give it some serious consideration.

The annoying crackle of the bar’s loudspeaker turning on jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Hello, beautiful ladies!” Roger’s voice rings out over the bar. “Are all stations ready? The doors will open for business in three minutes. Knock ‘em dead tonight.”

After checking my station one last time, I stick a few more beer bottles into the large cooler and tighten up my bikini top in preparation for opening.

“Good luck, Trish!” a girl calls out from across the room.

“You too, Jessica.” I smile and wave back at one of my new roommates. It feels good for a change to have female friends and be almost normal.

I plump up my boobs and apply a final coat of lip gloss.

Bring it on, gentlemen. I’m ready for you.

The bouncers unlock and swing open the wide oak doors. The bikers who have been waiting outside in the hot sun begin to pour in and make their way to the multiple bars.

If the initial crowd is any indication, business is going to be very good tonight. Now that I’m working for myself and not handing over all the money to Ty, I bet I
can
make five hundred dollars a night if I really try.

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I
t is almost midnight before Sam and I make it to the Silver Shark Saloon. The bar is crowded again tonight, with bikers squeezed in tight from one wall to the other. In the middle of the room is a roped-off stage for special activities.

Sam nudges me and points to the pink blinking neon sign hanging from the ceiling announcing the next event - ‘Ladies Chocolate Pudding Wrestling at Midnight!’

I do a double take at the sign to make sure I read it correctly.

“Wonder how long it took Roger to come up with that idea?” Sam asks. “Too bad the rest of the crew couldn’t make it tonight. Just look at what they’re going to miss. I bet they will be pissed.”

“Nobody forced them to start drinking shots of tequila before lunch,” I say. “They’re a bunch of pansy asses and should learn to pace their drinking. Like us professionals.”

Sam and I had hung around the hotel all evening hoping the rest of the Steel Infidels would sober up enough to come with us. When it began to look like a lost cause, we left them passed out in their rooms and decided to carry on without them.

I scan the room and wonder if Trish is working since I haven’t been able to get her off my mind all day. If not, I don’t have a clue how to get in touch with her.

This is an unusual dilemma for me, and one I’m not sure I like. Broads always leave me their phone number, either scribbled on a note left by the bed or scrawled in bright red lipstick on the bathroom mirror. If I’m out at a club, they’ll whisper in my ear and slip a piece of paper into my back pocket. Women go out of their way to make sure I know exactly how to reach them later.

I keep the numbers of the girls I like well enough to see again in a bowl in my kitchen. Sometimes if I’m feeling horny and keyed up late at night, I’ll pick out a number, give her a call, and have her come over for a quick fuck. When I don’t ask them spend the night, they always act indignant and pissed off like they didn’t know the score beforehand.

No matter what, I never make the mistake of letting them find out my cell phone number. It only took me a few times to learn my lesson about that the hard way. 

“What are u doing?” they’ll text first.

Then “where R U?”

After the third unanswered text, they’ll start with the, “R U OK? Call me! I’m worried.”

Screw that needy shit. The last thing I want is a woman texting me all day long with constant updates. My rule is after three text messages, I block her number.

Cut the bitch off, just like that.

Except now I’m wishing I had broken my own rule and given Trish my cell phone number last night.

Damn it.

Worry tightens in my gut. What if something bad has happened to her? How would I even know? I should have handled things better with her somehow.

Relief hits me when I spot her working at a busy location on the other side of the bar. Roger has her set up again as a beer tub babe. He’s a smart businessman and knows a good thing when he sees it. She probably sells more beer than any other girl in the place. 

I check out her outfit. Damn! She looks totally fuckable in her white shorts and red polka dot bikini top. I notice she’s still wearing the cowboy hat, except tonight she has on white tennis shoes with lacy socks instead of the leather boots. To me, she looks even sexier than the night before. 

She bends over to grab a beer out of the tub of ice, intentionally giving the customers a good look at her ass. If she were my old lady, I wouldn’t let her do that shit.

Not for any amount of money.

I meant what I told her about keeping that spectacular view all to myself.

“Let’s go grab a good spot,” Sam suggests, tilting his head toward the stage where the contest is about to begin. “We don’t want to miss the show. You know how I love chocolate pudding. Maybe Roger will ask for volunteers to lick the girls clean afterwards.”

I laugh, suspecting Sam is only half kidding. Knowing Roger, he might put the pudding-covered girls up for auction to the highest bidder after the contest is over.

“You go ahead,” I say. “I need to check on something first. Save me a place.”

Sam follows my line of vision across the room to Trish. “You mean check on someone? Fuck! Your girl is smoking hot tonight. Too bad you didn’t get some of that ass when you had the chance. I bet she is one nice piece of pussy. Since she’s obviously not interested in you, due to her cutting out before daylight, mind if I give it a shot? I’ll bet you a hundred bucks I won’t strike out like you did. Watch and learn, brother. You’ll see how it’s done.”

Sam takes three steps in her direction before I roughly grab his arm and jerk him back. He bends over laughing.

“Gotcha!” he says, slapping me hard on the back. “You should have seen the look on your face. Jesus Christ, Jesse! You need to chill the fuck out. What has you so wound up tonight? Her? Thought you said she was a shit load of problems that you didn’t have time for. You have a thing for her, don’t you?”

“I said she has problems, not that she is the problem.”

Sam shrugs. “Same fucking difference. Women are a shit heap of trouble. Are you really going to give her the chance to smack you down again? If so, you are a glutton for punishment, brother. It’s a bad idea if you ask me. Life is too short to spend chasing one piece of tail. Look around this room. Lots of options to choose from.”

“Maybe,” I answer. “There’s no harm in giving it one more go. See what happens.”

He looks doubtful at the thought of my success. “Suit yourself, dumbass. Keep in mind there’s lots of available, willing women here tonight. No reason for us to go back to the hotel empty-handed. What’s the point of bike week if it’s not to fuck a different broad every night? Or in my case, two. Maybe more if I get lucky.”

Sam is right.

Why am I wasting my time worrying about a woman I don’t even know? Trish had her opportunity and she blew it. I should consider myself lucky for dodging the bullet with a woman who had issues as deep as hers.

“You, my brother, make an excellent point,” I say. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you. What are you in the mood for? Blondes or brunettes?”

Sam grins back at me. “Is there a new rule that says we have to choose?”

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M
y shift is almost over and there is still no sign of Jesse. I know it’s dumb, but somehow I expected him to show up looking for me. The fact that he doesn’t care enough to drop by puts a damper on my night. He probably hasn’t given me a second thought. In fact, he was probably relieved when he woke up to find me gone.

What good is a girl who won’t put out?

No good at all.

Especially to bikers who like their women pliable and willing. I wish I could explain to him why I left in such a rush. Unfortunately, there’s no way I can tell him the truth about what is going on between me and the Liberators. If I mention one word about Big Roy to anyone, I will be putting both myself and them in danger.