Under Locke by Mariana Zapata
Ugh. I frowned at the reminder.
“You heard anything from him?”
I wished.
“No, but then no one tells me anything either.” I paused for a second to look at my fingernails. "I'm sure he's fine."
Oh boy. How many times had I used and heard someone use the word "fine" to describe how they were doing? I could happily go the rest of my life without hearing that vague term ever again.
Blake sighed. "Sounds like a mess. That crew’s nothing to fool around with though." He raised both his black eyebrows. "You need to be careful until it all gets sorted out."
The urge to laugh was right on my tongue. Sleeping at Dex's alone was definitely being careful. Right.
I flinched a little at the thought. Where the heck had I gotten so negative? It was weird.
He shrugged. “Well, let me know if you hear anything about him. I need to go set up for my next client.”
The bald man I'd seen twice flickered through my brain. Then the memory of being terrified at Dex's house pushed that one aside.
The need to work out the issue going on with my dad seemed too important all of a sudden to leave Sonny to deal with it alone. It wasn't friggin' fair for either one of us. Plus, would they really do something to me? Oh boy, I hoped not. "Wait! Blake!"
He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
I snapped my fingers together to play off the question poised on my tongue. “What's the name of the president of that Reapers club? The bald guy?" I was so full of shit but I knew Blake wouldn't tell me if I made it seem that Dex had hidden something like that from me.
Blake's face scrunched up. "Liam?"
I snapped my fingers like a little liar. "Yeah, I couldn't remember." I smiled at him as he shrugged and made his way toward the front, leaving me in the back to try and figure out a way to get the guy's last name without being conspicuous.
And that would be by asking Slim when Blake was busy. Sometimes a girl's gotta do, what a girl's gotta do. In my case, it was finding a way back to Sonny's.
Chapter Nineteen
Standing outside of the strip club, I knew what I was about to do was monumentally stupid. Astronomically dumb. And if—okay, when—my brother found out, he'd more than likely try to strangle me.
But screw it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was used to dealing with things on my own. If the tables had been turned and I’d been the one who had gotten the shit kicked out of me, every nerve cell in my brain was confident that Sonny would have done something equally as stupid to get me back.
I wasn't about to let him down when he needed me for the first time.
That's exactly what I kept telling myself as I flashed my license at the bouncer standing at the entrance. He looked at me, then my ID, and then back at me before waving me in.
I really was a moron.
After asking Slim in passing what the last name of "that Liam guy" was, I'd then asked him "where do the Reapers hang out again? Dex told me not to drive by there but I can't remember the name." My poor, sweet Slim had answered so nonchalantly, he never could have expected that I was planning on visiting the rival motorcycle club.
Or...maybe he just didn't assume I'd be that dumb. You know, being the daughter of a former member of the Widowmakers, and that specific member happened to owe them a crap-ton of money. And the half-sister of a current member that they'd beat the crap out of. Triple the shit factor, and also the employee of a short-tempered Widow.
Well, I'd had a good run while I had the chance.
Using the excuse that I had a "girl emergency", I'd stormed out of Pins a little after seven. It'd taken me nearly an hour to drive to the strip club the Reapers hung out at in the outskirts of San Antonio. Judging by the five motorcycles I'd seen parked in the lot, I figured at least a few of the members were there.
Hopefully the bald guy was there. He had to be one of the main guys in the MC.
No sooner had I walked into the smoke-machine infested club with two dozen strobe lights and black lights dazzling the room, did I spot the corner where five very gruff looking men sat like kings.
The bald guy was hanging off the edge of his seat, looking more bored than entranced by the monstrous E-cup breasts onstage. My hands had started shaking at some point, so I clenched them into fists and took a deep breath.
Sonny would do worse than this for me.
Plus, they wouldn't kill me or do something crazy like that in public? Right? I friggin' hoped so.
Those twenty steps around the club to the corner of doom were the longest of my life. At about fifteen out of the twenty, the bald guy—who didn't look like he was actually bald the closer I got—spotted me. He didn't tense up or look alarmed as I sucked in a breath and steeled myself to beg for something. Was that what I was doing? Begging? For my dad?
Apparently, I was, but I liked to think that I was doing it more for Sonny than for our deadbeat father.
The other men had turned to look too, all at least ten years older than me if not twenty. They looked more interested than I'd like. It might have been because I was the only female in the building wearing more than tiny shorts and a top that ended half a dozen inches above my waist.
I was two feet away from the bald guy—not bald, his hair looked like it grew in everywhere but must have been shaved often— when he tilted his chin up at me and my nerves kicked in. When that happened, I turned into an idiot—a blabbering idiot with no social skills.
"Hi," I squeaked out. And then I waved.
Jesus Christ, what was wrong with me?
The bald man, Liam McDonaugh from the intel I'd gathered from my unsuspecting coworkers, raised a single dark eyebrow. "Hey," he replied hesitantly, more than likely believing I was nuts.
If they didn't kill me, I'd kill myself for this stupidity.
One or two of the other men grunted in response, making my nerves worse.
What in the friggin' hell had I been thinking? Seriously? What? That these men would compromise with me? Give my dad an extension for his debt? God, why the hell hadn't I at least told Slim or Blake where I was going?
"Not that I don't mind a pretty face standing in front of me, but you look like you're gonna puke, doll. I don't wanna get thrown up on," the Liam man drawled.
Screw me. Screw me now.
"I won't throw up on you. I swear." I smiled nervously, trying so hard not to think about bursting into frustrated tears.
Liam just looked at me in that same intense way Dex did, stripping me of my dignity and strength slowly.
Shit!
"My dad—," crap! That wasn't the picture I should paint. "Curt Taylor owes your club money and you went after my brother for it—," I had to suck in a breath to try and steady my speech. It sounded like I was trembling. "Is there any way you can give him an extension? He doesn't even like us," I blurted out.
The bald man, Liam, smiled crookedly. His eyebrows tented up. "That so?"
"I haven't seen him in almost ten years," I told him honestly. "I swear he won't give a crap what happens to either one of us."
That smug, crooked smile stayed in place. "I find that hard to believe, doll."
Holy moly. My hands shook though they were still in fists at my sides. "Look, I don't know why he hasn't paid you back but I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." I could feel the tears singing in the corners of my eyes as panic swelled like a tidal wave in my chest. "If I had the money, I'd pay it back so that you wouldn't go after my brother again."
I had to purse my lips together so that I wouldn't start sniffling.
Liam's eyes widened. In the dark building, I couldn't exactly see what color they were but I'm sure they were dark on his pale face. In fact, it was a pale, handsome face if you liked that rugged, late-thirties bad-man type.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his outstretched legs. Those murky eyes roamed over me quickly, once, twice, three times. "You new here?"
I'm sure he alr
"It's safe to say that you don't know how shit is run then, doll. You didn't know that bitches—excuse me, ladies don't come around dipping into their men's business. The last thing your cute ass needs to be doing is coming to my place and asking me for something I have no obligation to give you," Liam said carefully.
This wasn't exactly going the way I wanted it to.
I must have made a face because he held up a finger to interrupt me. "But, you're here and I can tell you're scared out of your mind." This was true. Totally true. Now standing, Liam didn't exactly tower over me like Dex, but he was still at least six feet. His build was broad, more bodybuilder type than lean and hard-packed. And his personality? Guh. Made him seem even bigger. It might have been the intelligent, crazy look in his eye that seemed oddly familiar. Hmm.
"I can appreciate the guts it took you to come over here, asking for your bro's sake," he said, coming to stand directly in front of me while I stayed rooted in place mainly from fear. His gaze, which I could now confirm as being brown, bore into mine. "And you're smoking hot. That helps out my temper, too."
There was a frog in my throat. Maybe several because I croaked as he leaned into me. A violent urge to push against his chest was at the forefront of my brain but realistically, there was no way I could make it out of the club in one piece.
"Give me some sugar and I'll let you get out of here without a problem. I might even think about only charging your damn daddy for nine instead of ten more in interest," he breathed.
Oh friggin' hell. Nine thousand? In interest? On top of ten? Crap.
"What do you say?" Liam tucked his chin in, staring down at me.
I froze. "You want sugar?" I had a feeling he wasn't asking for the thing I liked to put in my coffee.
He nodded slowly.
My mouth had to be gaping wide. It had to. "I don't think so," I whispered, still not moving.
Play opossum, Ris! Play opossum!
Liam smiled grand. Okay, it was too late to play dead. The movement made him appear even more good-looking than before. "You do," he chuckled, coming even closer to my face. "Nine instead of ten, doll face."
I don't know why I inhaled, but I did and he smelled like a musky cologne. It was pretty nice but all it succeeded in doing was making me feel a bit dizzy. My emotions and fears were all over the place.
"He doesn't give a shit about us." I swallowed, keeping an eye on his ever descending lips.
Holy cow, his mouth was literally a few millimeters from mine. Don't do something stupid, Iris! Don't do it!
Liam chuckled again, sounding deeper. "Whatever you say," he whispered... right before he kissed me.
~ * ~ *
I wanted to kick my own ass.
Getting behind the wheel of my Focus with my lips still tingling from their visit with Liam's mouth, and what seemed like a ten pound weight settled nicely in my belly, I felt sick. Like I'd done something horribly wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.
It also didn't help that I knew I'd been a complete idiot walking into that strip club. Such an idiot—
The wailing ring of my cell phone snapped me out of the mental ass-kicking I was giving myself. Pure, sickening dread lined my belly. Because I knew, I knew somehow that I wasn't going to want to answer the call. Don't tell me how I knew, I just did.
And when I picked my phone out of my purse—the one I'd left in the backseat of my car when I'd gone inside—the screen flashed the name of possibly the only man I dreaded speaking to occasionally.
Dex.
Shoot me now.
I sucked in a breath and let out the exhale as soon as I hit the button to answer. "Hello?" My voice might have been a little more squeaky than I would have liked.
"Where the fuck are you?"
Oh boy.
"Ahh..."
Dex didn't even wait a second to bark out, "Where the hell you at, Ritz?"
"I'm driving back to Pins," I croaked, hitting the mute button while I turned the ignition and put the car into reverse so he wouldn't hear anything that would give me away.
"By yourself?" he asked in a slow, careful voice that did nothing to ease my anxiety.
"Yeah." I wasn't going to lie to him about that.
The pause it took for him to respond made me steel my spine for whatever was going to spill out of his mouth. "Iris," he said in a low, low voice. "Meet me at Mayhem." His tone was way too controlled. Crap!
"I should get back to Pins, I've been gone awhile."
I could hear him breathing over the phone. "No. See me at Mayhem."
Before I got a chance to argue with him anymore, he hung up. Hung up on me. That dick. Shit! No!
The realization that they had no idea I'd driven all the way to San Antonio was right on the front of my thoughts. I was going to need to do some serious speeding to remotely save my ass because there was no way in hell I was going to tell him where I'd gone if he'd gotten that pissed off over me leaving to begin with.
Unfortunately, I sped. The speeding caused me to get to Mayhem a lot quicker than I liked, even though I knew that I still hadn't gotten back fast enough to really play off being nearby.
The lot for the bar was packed for it being a weeknight, then again, I probably shouldn't be surprised. I highly doubted most of the people inside cared whether they drank during the work week or not. I'd barely stepped into Mayhem after flashing my license at the bouncer, when I caught sight of the blonde I'd seen Dex with back at the body shop so long ago. She was sitting at the bar, right next to a Widow by the patches on his heavily weathered vest.
Well, I guess Son wasn't kidding about the girl getting around.
I didn't see Dex anywhere but that didn't exactly ease my nerves. I mean, he couldn't kill me with so many witnesses around.
"Have you seen Dex?" I asked the first bartender that walked by me.
The lady tipped her head up. "Upstairs, sugar."
Sheeeit.
It felt like I'd just been doomed to participate in a Death March. God. Sucking in another breath, I reminded myself that Dex wouldn't do anything to me. He wouldn't. Except maybe rip me a new butthole with his mouth. Well, with his words.
The same WMC member that had come into Pins when I'd first gotten the job—the one with the beer belly—stood at the bottom of the stairway that I'm sure was about to lead to hell. He cocked an eyebrow at me . "Sonny's sis?"
I nodded.
A smirk inched across his face. "All the way up," was the only thing he said.
I will not gag. I will not gag. I will not gag.
"Thanks," I muttered, making my way up the first, and then the second flight of stairs. Despite the loud music blaring from the main floor, I could hear the deep rumble of voices coming from the third floor.
The doorway led to a large room with two loveseats and a futon closest to the door facing no particular direction. Just behind the seating on the far side of the wall, three desks took up the remaining space.
And seated at the desk in the corner, surrounded by Luther and two other Widows, was Dex.
Dex who was staring at me like he was plotting my murder.
I did the only thing a logical person who feared for her safety—kind of—would do. I pretended like nothing happened by flashing the most fake grin in the natural world.
He stared at me, the tick in his jaw was noticeable even so far away.
Dex's gaze didn't waver for a second. "Get your ass over here, Ritz," he demanded in a cool voice.
Nothing was going to happen. Nothing.
My feet moved on their own with no regard to the fate they were leading us to. "Hi."
Did I get a "hi" back? Nope. Four faces stared back at me, completely unemotional.
I stopped just next to the member I recognized from the day Dex had shown up with Trip after Sonny's disappearance. He happened to be the only one who didn't look like I'd stomped all over his sand castle.
"Baby." Dex sat back in his chair, cr
I swallowed.
"Where you been?" He enunciated his words a little too carefully.
Well, there was no way in friggin' hell they were going to get the truth out of me, and in retrospect, what I blurted out my mouth really wasn't any better. At all. "I went to go buy some tampons." That wasn't so bad, but the rest...? "And then I had to run over to Sonny's house to change my pants since I bled all over them."
Kill me. Kill. Me.