Burnt Rubber: Adults Only Motorcycle Club Romance: Roadrunners MC (3 page)

“Where’s the camera she was using?” Johnny asked.

“I picked up the smashed pieces and exposed film and put them in my car,” the man answered. “I’ll dump them in the river tonight.”

Johnny nodded his head.

“What the fuck was she doing here?” he went on. “Do you think she was on to something and following Jake?”

“Her story was that she was on her own and taking pictures of the city,” the man answered. “She looked shit scared, so I got the impression she was blurting out the truth.”

“You don’t think she was here deliberately?” Johnny asked.

The man shrugged his shoulders as he spoke.

“I guess it’s a possibility, but I don’t really think so. It would be fucking crazy of a newspaper to send a young girl on her own after the Mob, don’t you think? Plus she was too sloppy to be a Fed. She was using some old ass camera as well.”

“So, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Johnny mused.

“Whatever her reasons for being here, she needs to be dealt with now,” the man said. “She can finger us for the murder.”

“How the fuck did you let her get away?”

“I told you,” the man said. “The dealer found strength from somewhere to fight back and we needed to help Jake. I wasn’t about to stand and watch him get knifed then have to explain to Jacob Fiori why I did nothing while his son was killed. The girl was smart enough to run when she got her chance and quick enough to get away.”

Johnny let out a sigh. What happened in the alley that evening sounded like a major fuck up from start to finish.

“OK,” he said. “You go find a public payphone close by and call this in. We need the cops to find the body quickly now before some drunk or smack head comes along and decides that knife is a nice souvenir to have. Just make up some shit about being a concerned citizen and that you think someone might be hurt. As soon as you’ve done that, get out of this area.”

“Sure thing.”

The two of them walked to the end of the alley and Johnny watched as the dark swallowed up the man. He took a last look along towards the body and shook his head before making his way to the SUV. The idea of returning to give a report to his boss wasn’t something he relished, but there was no getting away from it. His mind ticked over about the photographer as he drove, and when he caught sight of an internet café’s lights he decided to stop to do some checking.

“How long do you want?” the man behind the counter asked.

“Thirty minutes,” Johnny replied.

He paid the money for it and walked across to a free computer to log in. The
Bay Republic
website wasn’t one he was familiar with, and he navigated through the pages to see if there were any details of the photography staff. He came up empty handed after fifteen minutes of searching and clicked on the icon for the newspaper’s contact details. The main telephone number was what he wanted, and he used the pad and pencil on the desk to make a note of it then gave up using the computer.

When he left the building, he returned to his vehicle to continue his journey and kept an eye out for a payphone. He stopped when he found one and got some coins from his pocket when he picked up the handset. The idea of what he was going to say was already forming in his mind and he hoped the receptionist working the phones didn’t really know what stories the journalists and photographers were working on.

“
Bay Republic
,” a female voice said when his call was answered. “How can I help?”

“My name is Sam Shepherd,” Johnny lied. “We had one of your photographers down at our amateur sports club today and she was such a sweet girl that the members decided they wanted to send her a bunch of flowers.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” the receptionist said.

It was exactly the response that Johnny was hoping for and he quickly went on.

“The trouble is the person showing her around forgot her name, so I was just checking. She was in her mid-twenties or so, styled her hair in a ponytail and was wearing glasses.”

“That sounds like Marion Thomas,” the woman said. “In fact it must have been. She’s the only female photographer on our staff around that age.”

“Thanks,” Johnny said. “If we send the flowers to your main offices, I take it they will be passed on to her?”

“Of course,” the receptionist answered.

“OK, we’ll do that,” Johnny went on. “Thanks for your help.”

His words ended the conversation and he hung up. He quickly returned to the SUV and made his way back to see his boss. The office was returned to normality when he stepped inside it, with the chaos after his earlier visit already cleaned up. Jacob was sitting with his feet up on the desk and a glass of bourbon in his hand.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“I set up the murder scene with the knife and got our man to call it in,” Johnny answered. “The cops should be there as we speak.”

“Did you see Jake?”

“Nope,” Johnny replied. “He wasn’t there. It was just one of his men.”

“OK, so half the job is done then,” Jacob said and dropped his feet to the floor then leaned forward to place his elbows on the desk. “What about the witness?”

“She’s a photographer for the
Bay Republic Newspaper,
” Johnny answered. “I did some checking on the way back and I’m pretty sure her name is Marion Thomas. From what I was told, I think she just stumbled on the scene by accident. Jake smashed her camera then ruined the film and the pieces will be disposed of, so as far as I can make out there is no hard evidence linking him to the crime.”

Jacob lifted the glass to his lips to take a sip of alcohol then put it down on the desk.

“She saw what happened though,” he said. “That makes her a witness that we need to be sure doesn’t talk.”

“We have enough details already to find out more about her,” Johnny said. “It shouldn’t be difficult to track down the locations we are most likely to find her.”

“Then do it and put the word out as quickly as you can,” Jacob said. “I want this bitch dead, and the sooner she’s buried the better.”

The slight flicker of the ceiling light made Marion glance up. The fixture was no more than a bare bulb hanging on a worn-looking length of cable, and the rest of the dingy hotel room in which she was taking refuge wasn’t in much better condition. The mismatched furniture, peeling wallpaper and shabby carpet gave the place an unkempt, dirty appearance, but it was a haven from the danger she was facing and she was sure that no one could find her there. That gave her a crumb of comfort that she was safe for the night at least, although she knew she couldn’t remain there for long. The idea of staying in one place to make herself a sitting duck wasn’t one she could countenance, and she wasn’t about to wait for the Mob to close in and finish the job.

The thought of Jake Fiori’s crazy, smiling expression and the blood-stained knife made her shudder and she didn’t want another close up view of them. How to go about avoiding him was the problem. For the past thirty minutes, she’d been considering her options and she kept returning to the idea of calling her boss. She wasn’t sure if he could do anything, but the obvious course of action of going to the police still seemed like a bad idea, and Harold’s name topped the list of the people she thought might be able to help.

“You need to do something,” she finally urged herself.

There was no phone in the room and she guessed using her own wasn’t a particularly wise move, so it meant leaving the safety of the room. That was difficult enough to do, but when the man on reception told her there was no public phone for guests, it meant leaving the hotel. He at least gave her directions to the nearest payphone, and Marion’s gaze darted nervously around as she made her way to it. The dark streets were quiet, which added to her anxiety, and her pulse was running fast when she got to the phone. She hurriedly picked up the handset and dropped some coins in the slot. Her hands were shaking, so she sucked in a few deep breaths to try and calm herself and then dialed her boss’s number.

“Come on, fucking answer,” she let out in a hushed voice after five rings, and it was one more before the call was picked up.

“Is that you, Harold?” she said straight away.

“Marion?’ he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Did you get the pictures needed for…”

“I’m in trouble, Harold,” she cut in to stop his words.

“What?” he exclaimed in a concerned voice. “What do you mean? What kind of trouble?”

“I went to a few quieter locations to get the final photos I wanted and…”

“Didn’t you listen to what I said when we parted?” he interrupted her.

“I thought it would be OK,” she answered. “But…”

“But it wasn’t,” Harold ended her sentence.

“No, it wasn’t,” Marion admitted. “I saw something I shouldn’t have.”

“Like what exactly?” he asked her.

Marion hesitated for a second before the words finally tumbled out of her mouth in a rush.

“I saw someone being killed, Harold. I even got pictures of it.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he exploded. “I told you to be careful.”

“I know, I know,” Marion went on. “It gets worse though.”

“How the hell could it get any worse?”

“The murder was committed by Jake Fiori and his thugs,” she admitted.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, as if Harold was stunned by the news. He let out a long, exasperated sigh before he finally stared speaking again.

“Please tell me they didn’t see you.”

It was Marion’s turn to sigh, although she knew that there was no choice but to tell the truth.

“They did more than see me,” she confessed. “They caught me, but the dying man made a last ditch attempt at fighting and I got away when their attention was on killing him.”

“They didn’t actually find out who you were then?” Harold asked straight away.

“Umm…”

“Ah for fuck’s sake, Marion,” he let out. “This is the Mob we’re talking about. What the hell did you tell them?”

“Jake asked me who I was working for and I let slip the name of the newspaper,” she answered. “I was scared, so I blurted it out without even thinking.”

“They definitely know who you are then,” Harold said.

“What do I do?” Marion asked in a desperate voice.

‘You die’ was the first thought that sprang in Harold’s mind. Getting on the wrong side of the Mob was practically a death sentence. The fact that Jake Fiori was involved ensured that his father, Jacob, would employ the full weight of his vast resources to hunt Marion down in an attempt to silence her. He suspected she knew that already and wasn’t about to frighten her more by coming out and telling her.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Holed up in some fleapit hotel,” she told him. “Should I go to the police?”

Harold went silent again, as if he was mulling the question over. His answer didn’t surprise Marion and only confirmed her own fears.

“No, I wouldn’t advise you to do that,” he let out. “The Mob has people inside the local police. If you turn yourself in, Jacob Fiori will definitely know where you are and more than likely be able to get to you.”

“Shit,” Marion spat out. “Do you think there’s anything I can do?” The long silence on the other end of the line began to panic her. “Harold?” she said to encourage him to speak.

“I can only think of one thing,” he eventually said.

“Tell me,” she urged him.

“I’m not sure you’ll like the idea,” Harold went on. “But we ran a story in the paper around six months ago about the Roadrunners.”

“The biker gang?” Marion queried.

“Yes,” Harold confirmed. “One of our female journalists did a more unusual feature on the girls of the gang. She got on the inside for a week or two to get the information and actually became friendly with one of the Roadrunner girls. Her name was Carrie Nelson.”

“That’s all very interesting, Harold,” Marion let out. “But how does it help me?”

“The Roadrunners are the sworn enemy of the Mob,” Harold said. “The story goes that Jacob Fiori is intent on wiping them out to take over the drug and arms trade they control, but they’ve stood up to him so far and are still around. If there’s one group that can provide you with shelter from the Mob, it’s them.”

“Are you crazy?” Marion exclaimed then looked around when she realized how loud her voice was. She lowered it as she went on. “I’ve put myself in danger with a bunch of deranged criminals and your idea is for me to seek the protection of a rival gang of hoodlums?”

“You’re out of options, Marion,” he pointed out a bit too harshly. He softened his voice before going on. “Going to the local police is a non-starter, and that leaves you on your own or taking your chances with the Roadrunners. Think about it. You’re holding evidence that could bring down Jake Fiori and that’s surely something they want.”

“Fucking hell,” Marion hissed. “This is nuts.”

“It’s so nuts it might work,” Harold said. “Going to the Roadrunners is probably the last thing the Mob will expect you to do. Just get to your hotel room and hole up for the night. I’ll get in touch with the journalist that wrote the story and see if she can still contact Carrie. If she can, I’ll try and arrange for a meeting. Believe me, if there was some other way I could think of, I would tell you, but I honestly think this is your best shot at getting out of this mess alive. They will likely be able to get you out of the city to somewhere safe. It’s a start at least.”

“I guess,” Marion said without much conviction.

“Phone me again at eight in the morning and I’ll try and have something set up for you,” Harold told her.

“OK,” she replied in a resigned voice and the line went dead.

The sudden quiet of the dark night made her feel even more alone, but all she could do was hurry to the hotel and lock herself in the room. The fear that she was going to be found surrounded her and made sleep impossible. Even the slightest noise made her jump and her imagination conjured up the idea of Mob thugs creeping up to the door. It made for an uncomfortable, restless night and the dawning of a new morning didn’t bring any respite.

Leaving the hotel in the light of day was even more difficult to do. The area she was in wasn’t particularly busy, but she saw everyone that passed by as a potential danger, so simply walking to the nearby phone was enough to stretch her nerves to the breaking point. Harold answered his phone on this occasion before the first ring even ended.

“Marion?” he queried.

“Yes, it’s me,” she replied. “Did you manage to sort anything out?”

“Well, there’s bad news and good news,” he let out ominously.

“Go on,” Marion encouraged him when there was a slight silence.

“I decided to check if any visitors or calls came in for you last night,” Harold told her. “No one arrived to see you at the offices, but there was one phone call. The person didn’t ask to speak to you directly, but explained they were from a sports club you visited yesterday to take photographs.”

“I didn’t visit…”

“I know,” he cut in. “The receptionist said the person couldn’t remember your name, so they were calling to check because the club wanted to send you flowers as a thank you for being so nice.”

“Ah shit,” Marion let out. “Did she tell them?”

“Yes,” Harold replied. “I’m guessing the information you let slip about working for the
Bay Republic
gave the Mob a starting point for tracking you down. It was obviously them calling.”

“They know my name,” she said in a despairing voice.

“I would assume by now that they know a lot more about you than just your name,” her boss replied.

Marion raised her gaze skywards. The beautiful blue sky would normally have put a smile on her face, but all she could think about was whether it was the last one she’d ever see. The net was closing around her. It was a suffocating experience that was starting to overwhelm her, and it was getting more difficult to see a way out of it. The word was definitely out and the target on her back was growing larger by the hour.

“Well, that’s the bad news,” she said. “So…”

The comment was left open-ended and she waited for her boss to go on.

“Carrie Nelson has agreed to meet you,” Harold told her. “The journalist who did the Roadrunners’ story managed to get in touch with her and explained the situation. The fact that you have some explosive information about Jake Fiori convinced Carrie that getting together with you might be a smart move. She’ll meet you this morning and take you to a Roadrunners hideout.”

“Then what do I do?” Marion asked.

“Then you have to convince them of what you saw and the evidence you’ve got,” he told her.

“Great,” she let out in a resigned voice. “This gets better and better.”

“I did tell you to be careful,” Harold pointed out. “If you’d listened to me in the first…”

“I know,” she cut in. “You don’t need to tell me how stupid I’ve been.”

She closed her eyes and wished she’d run in the other direction when she heard the sound of the argument the night before. It was too late for that now. She was in the shit way, way over her head, and the fact that her best chance of survival was putting herself in the care of hardened criminals didn’t fill her with much hope.

“OK,” she let out. “Where do I meet this girl?”