“Hey, Prospect!” I yelled, and the kid turned to me from behind the bar. “Give me a bottle of Jack.” I leaned against the bar as I took a drag from the bottle and surveyed the landscape.
“Guillermo’s guys brought some sweet pussy with them tonight,” Axe said.
“Yeah, I saw a girl earlier. Looked young.”
“Yeah, she was with Mad Dog. Too young for my blood,” he said.
A woman sauntered up to me, blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, wearing a checkered top that barely covered her tits and a pair of leather chaps with nothing underneath. Beside me, Axe whistled. “Hey there,” she said. She put her hand on my shoulder, hip jutted out to the side, giving me a full view of her pussy.
“You supposed to be a cowgirl or something?” I took a drag on the bottle. It seemed rude not to offer it to her, although I didn’t exactly want to be swapping fluids with this woman. She had a nice body, but she looked like she had been around the block a time or two. Or twenty.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” She traced her fingernail down my chest. “I’ll ride, you try to buck me off.”
Next to me, Axe hooted. I felt a stirring in my pants, and I guess I could have gone to the back with her, but honestly, I was fucked out right now.
“That’s a nice offer, darlin’, but I think Axe here might be in greater need,” I said. She pouted, but turned her attention quickly to him. I looked at the bottle. Half of this and I’d be good.
We rolled up to the gate on the bikes, Mad Dog, Tank and a couple of the other big guys. Gate wasn’t the right word. It was more like a compound, with tall thick walls on a huge Malibu estate. There were no neighbors directly on either side; I was guessing Guillermo had bought all of the plots around the house.
“We’re here.” Mad Dog spoke into the intercom, his voice a sing-song, and the gates swung open.
We parked, and the guys stood in the front of the house, gawking.
“Shit, man, look at this place.” Tank pointed to the sculpted gardens surrounding the house, and to the fountain in the front. “Imagine having this guy as your neighbor? Neighborhood association meetings, that kind of shit?”
“You can see me in a place like this, right, Blaze?” Mad Dog smiled, flashing his teeth, one gold capped. “Drinking tea with the Queen?” He pantomimed an exaggerated “tea sipping” gesture, his pinky out, and Tank laughed, his fat stomach shaking.
“Yeah Boss,” Tank said.
“Come on, you shitheads.” Being here was putting me on edge.
Security patted us down and had us surrender our weapons, unsurprisingly. A bodyguard with a stony expression guided us toward an office. “He is expecting you. You two only.” He glared at the others, and Mad Dog nodded toward them.
“Wait out here," Mad Dog said.
Guillermo greeted us, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my ride. The far side of the room held a heavy dark desk, and shelves lined the walls, filled with books.
“Welcome,” he said. “I appreciate your coming here. I don’t get out as much lately as I used to. Security concerns.” He spoke casually, but I noticed a tremor in his hand. “Why don’t we sit?”
I looked down at the upholstered chair, then back to my dirty jeans. Whatever. I sat down. Jesus, as expensive as these things had to be, they sure didn’t make them comfortable.
“Let’s talk business.” Mad Dog was about to lay on the hard sell, I could see it in his eyes. He’d do most of the talking. I was there to back him up, because he was a good salesman when he had to be.
“Yes,” Guillermo said. “Business.” He paused. “I am in need of protection. I'm not in the habit of thinking short-term. I want a long-term relationship."
"You were working with the Furia MC," Mad Dog said.
"I'm sure you've heard the rumors about them talking with the Armenians."
"I've heard," Mad Dog said.
Guillermo shook his head. "I no longer have use of their services," he said. "The Armenians are too flashy, run by people without any sense for longevity in this business. I don’t operate that way. It attracts attention I do not want to attract. Now, this nasty business- this betrayal by the Furia, has put me in an awkward position. I've had to change shipping routes, warehouses. I have no desire to be involved in anything high-profile - gang warfare, that sort of thing." He waved dismissively, as if it were beneath him.
"Neither do we," Mad Dog said.
"When I make an alliance, hire protection, it means you are working with me exclusively."
"Absolutely," Mad Dog said. "We can offer you the full resources of the club. Whatever you need."
Mad Dog was talking, and my mind wandered as I looked over at the bookcases on the walls. Volumes lined the shelves - Greek, Roman, Asian history. I wondered if he read these or if they were just for show. He did seem well educated, the type of guy who would have read all of these books. I narrowed my eyes, trying to read some of the spines from where I sat, and Mad Dog’s voice blurred as I let my mind wander. This room reminded me of Althea.
Althea was my last foster mom, the one before I went to juvie. I reached her when I was fifteen, a few years in the system by that time - too far gone, or so I thought. She’d raised some thirty odd foster kids before me, but never lost hope- no matter what. I was running with a bad crowd then, trying to get jumped into this fucking white power gang in LA - not because I was racist but because I was white and everything fell out that way by race. I was a punk, propping myself up with aggression, attempting to maintain control, trying to get away from my life.
Althea had this huge room in her house, at least it seemed huge to me at the time. What did I know? I was a fifteen year old kid whose idea of fine living was having a kitchen with a stocked pantry. She had this library in her house, a whole room full of books inside shelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The bookshelves were filled with everything imaginable- history, art, mystery, old westerns- and she had encouraged me to read. Fill your mind with something other than the shit from the streets, she said, thrusting The Art of War into my rage-filled adolescent hands. This room was like being transported to another time and place.
“We can do that,” Mad Dog said, looking at me.
I cleared my throat, focused on the present. “Right.”
“We’ve been growing, and we’re ready to expand,” Mad Dog said.
"Do you have the capacity to deal with the kind of volume we're talking about running? I'll need warehouse coverage, protection for my trucks, interference at checkpoints. This isn't the small time meth trade anymore."
Mad Dog nodded. "We have the muscle, and we cover the mileage up and down the coast now, through the southwest. The volume will be higher, but we have the manpower."
“I have a shipment coming in on the tenth. Can your guys rally for that kind of volume by then?"
Mad Dog smiled and I nodded. “We can.”
“Good. Then that will be the first one. We can see how it goes." Guillermo leaned back in his chair. “There is one other thing I need from you. It’s a sensitive matter, a personal one.”
“Say the word.” Mad Dog would have sold his mother at this point to get a deal with him.
“I need to farm this job out, get it out of my circle.” He leaned forward, his voice low. “I’ve got a leak here-” He raised his hand before either of us could say anything. “I’m taking care of the problem. But this is precious cargo, and I need it handled appropriately, outside of my guys.”
I nodded. “Anything.”
“An old problem has come back to haunt me,” he said. “Someone who’s intent on destroying me and my family. He may have compromised my men, and I need someone completely uninvolved.”
“Say the word,” Mad Dog said.
“My daughter is part of the deal. He can come after me; I may be an old man, but I can handle myself. But her? I want her as far away from this as possible. I need you to take her someplace and lie low until this blows over.”
Mad Dog nodded. “We can take her to a safe house, put a couple of guys on her.”
Guillermo shook his head. “No. This is my daughter we're talking about. I don’t want a couple of random thugs on her.”
Mad Dog looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I stifled a groan. Shit. The last thing I wanted to do was babysit daddy’s little princess. “I have to take care of the club, but Blaze here can do it.”
Guillermo glared at me. “Nothing happens to her.”
I nodded. Got it.
“Nothing. She’s not to be touched, by anyone.” He paused. “In any way.” The message came through loud and clear. Understood. No sampling the merchandise. Like I was going to screw daddy’s little girl. Come on.
Mad Dog slapped my arm. “Blaze here is your man. He’s a monk. A saint.”
Guillermo stared at me. “Yes, I’m sure. Not a hair on her head gets touched," he said. “If she is harmed in any way, well, you can just imagine-”
“Understood.” I was irritated. Yeah, got it, I would be stuck babysitting some chick in the middle of nowhere. Classic.
Guillermo was silent for a moment before he spoke. “There’s one other small personal matter related to my daughter.”
“Sure,” I said, sarcastic.
He looked at Mad Dog this time. “This is separate from our business together. It shouldn’t be a hard job, but I’ll need to have someone taken care of, the daughter’s ex-boyfriend, some college punk who beat her up.”
Mad Dog nodded. “Give us the details. Since we have the other deal on board. I’ll throw this in for free. Consider it a gift.”
Guillermo appeared pleased. “I think this is going to work out.”
Mad Dog stood. “A long-term alliance.”
“Yes.” Guillermo walked over to the desk and pushed a button on the phone, buzzing the intercom. “Send my daughter in, please.” He turned to me. “I should warn you. She’s a bit headstrong, a handful. She’s not pleased about this plan, to say the least.”
I had to keep from rolling my eyes. That’s exactly what I needed, to babysit a spoiled rich brat who was going to fight me and bitch the entire time.
The door opened, and she walked through, eyes blazing. “Daddy, I told you I’m not going anywhere. I’m not a fucking prisoner-”
Guillermo interrupted. “Dani,” he said. “This is the gentleman who will be accompanying you to the safe house.”
When she turned, my heart stopped. I stood, legs shaking. Her. Dani. She was dressed conservatively in a white blouse and black linen pants, a scarf tied around her neck. I knew what was under the scarf, of course. Shit, I knew what was under her clothes. An image of her flashed before my eyes - Dani, naked underneath me, my mouth on her lips, her breasts, her pussy. I could still taste her. Don’t touch a hair on her head? I’d already touched more than that. I’d been everywhere. Guillermo Arias was going to kill me.
Dani's eyes widened, and her face turned pale as she stood there, silent. Shit. She did not look happy to see me. In fact, I was probably the last person on earth she wanted to see. Who could blame her? I’m sure she didn’t think she was going to screw a dirty biker on the side of the road and ever run into him again.
Guillermo broke the silence. “I apologize for my daughter’s rudeness. As I said, she’s not entirely happy with this arrangement.”
“Blaze will provide protection, keep you at the safe house until everything’s clear,” Mad Dog said.
“Dani,” I said.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. I couldn’t tell if she was angry or embarrassed.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Blaze.”
I felt an undercurrent of electricity between us, the same heat we’d had in the hotel. It ran through my veins and I felt my blood boil, thinking about her touch. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms, carry her away and get her out of here, away from this life. It was some kind of primal instinct. It took everything I had to stand there, rooted in the ground, and not rush to her.
“I'm Dani,” she said, her gaze never leaving me, heat flashing in her eyes.
When she spoke, I knew it. I knew it more than I’d known anything else in my life. I knew that this girl would wreck me.
"This is such bullshit!" Balling up a tee-shirt, I threw it in a bag. “I’m so glad I unpacked everything just to have to repack it all. Where am I being banished, anyway?"
My father stood just inside my bedroom, scowling. “It's for your own protection. We talked about this."
I returned to my closet to grab shoes. I picked up a pair of Jimmy Choos, then set them back down. Obviously there was no need for dress shoes. I glanced at the safe in the back of my closet. Should I bring a weapon? I grabbed a more sensible pair of sneakers and walked out of the closet. “So you’re telling me I'm supposed to just sit in a fucking house somewhere. You won’t even tell me where. And with some guy I don’t even know."
"It will be someone safe, someone I trust." My father paused. "Clean up your fucking language. I won't sit here and listen to you yell at me with that filthy mouth. You're not a thug."
"Daddy, please." I sat on the bed. I didn't need this now. I came home to get away from Billy, clear my head, have a little fun this summer. Suddenly the issue with Billy paled in comparison. It seemed like it happened a million years ago. "I want to see my friends, hang out at the beach, do normal stuff regular college students do."
"You're not a normal college student." My father sat down in an overstuffed chair near my bed. "I'm sorry you don't like it, but all this?" He gestured at the room. "All this is because of my work. You are where you are because of it, and you could express a little more gratitude for your present situation."
"The present situation is that I'm being shuttled off to some craphole in the middle of nowhere, away from everyone I know, for my protection." I spit out the last words, furious with him. I had friends in Los Angeles, people I knew. "I don't even know where I'm going."
"You don't need to know. It's for your own good."
I laughed bitterly. "How come everything is for my own good? I'm sick of hearing that. I'm sick of all of this."
Anger flashed in his eyes. "I would highly advise that you don’t say something you’ll regret. If you don’t like all of this, as you say, I can arrange so you won’t have to deal with any of it ever again.” It wasn’t simple fatherly advice. It was a direct threat, coming from a man who had power and influence that was more far-reaching than I could begin to imagine.
"Is this because of what happened with Billy?" I just couldn’t help myself; I had to continue. I swear I didn’t have a death wish.
"No, but he'll be dealt with suitably."
"I don't want him dealt with," I said. "I didn't come home so you would have him killed. Tell me you're not going to kill him."
My father stared at me, unblinking. "Does he deserve to live?"
Not really, I thought reflexively. Then, yes, of course he does. "He was high. He choked me. You can't kill him," I protested. I knew a moral argument against killing him would not sway my father, but maybe a practical one would. "Do you know who he is?"
"I know who he is."
"He's somebody, daddy." I waited to see if anything I said was registering with him. I hoped it was. "He's one of the Randolphs. I don't care what the hell he did to me. You can't just have him killed. You can't. They will come after us."
"It's not for you to worry about."
"Yes it is, daddy. It's absolutely my concern. How can you say it doesn't involve me?"
"It's not your concern," he said.
"Promise me you won’t go after him."
"I won't make that promise."
"Promise me," I begged. "Please don't kill him."
"It won't connect to us in any way."
"You can't, daddy," I pleaded. "It will come back to us. If someone touches him, it will come back on us." My stomach lurched. I knew coming here was a bad idea. At my core, I had hoped that my father was a reasonable man, that he wouldn’t do something insane like go after Billy. I thought he would understand that it was too dangerous. The Randolphs were just too influential. I should have stayed at school, distanced myself from Billy, waited until he got bored and moved on to someone else.
What was wrong with me? You knew he would kill Billy. Some part of you knew, and that makes you a killer too. You’re your father’s daughter.
No, no, no.
My father kissed my forehead. "I promise you. It won't connect to us."
"It's wrong."
"Morality is for people who live in a fantasy world. Now, I won’t hear any more about it. The conversation about this Billy is over.”