Cold-Hearted (7 page)

I awoke to a familiar ringing in my head. I drank way too much last night like usual. I laughed to myself silently when I realized that I had fallen asleep on the pool table. I got up and tip-toed over all the guys passed out on the floor and made my way to the bar. I poured myself a small shot of Kentucky whiskey and knocked it back. The ringing slowly faded away and I already felt better.

The image of Nicole's scantily-clad body crossed my mind. Goosebumps formed all over my arms and my morning wood got even harder. I shoved my hands in my pockets, searching. I checked over every inch of my jeans and realized it was in my vest pocket.

I pulled out the crumpled paper that had Nicole's number scribbled on it. I admired the way she signed her name in cursive. I put the paper to my nose and it smelled so much like her.
A cross between the ocean and rose petals.

Should I call her right now?
What the fuck are you thinking, Ash?
You know the rules—don't seem too desperate. I reluctantly put the paper back in my vest and poured another shot of whiskey. Why did this girl have such a hold on me?
I should have fucked her already and tossed her to the side.

Hammer fell out of his office, no doubt suffering from the same hangover.

“Crazy night.” He slapped me on the back and drank straight from the bottle of whiskey. Hammer looked at his watch. “It's already past noon. Wake everybody up so we can open.”

The Dark Steel MC opened a restaurant called The Burger Joint to be used as a front to launder money back in the late 1970's. It wasn't supposed to make any money but instead became a destination spot for outlaws to gather. Over the years, the burgers brought in more money than the drugs and guns combined. It was steady and clean—exactly what a perfect front should be.

The back of The Burger Joint was where the Dark Steel MC was headquartered. It was a small double-story warehouse that we transformed into our meeting place. The first floor consisted of pool tables and a bar. The back was a private room where we held our club votes. Upstairs had a few bedrooms—including mine—that members used from time to time.

“Everyone up!” I yelled. Some guys rolled around a bit while others didn't move an inch. I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled so loud it could wake the dead. Half-naked women peeled themselves off the floor and the men gravitated towards the bar. I went through the front and into the restaurant. I took out the keys, unlocked the door, and switched the open sign on.

I went back into the club and more guys were awake. I passed them by and went upstairs. My room was a place where I could crash when the nights went too long or if I was trying to hide out from the cops. For some reason, last night, I never made it up the stairs. I grabbed some fresh clothes out of the closet and took a warm shower. The thought of Nicole came back to me and wouldn't leave. My cock was begging to sink into the sweet pussy of hers. I had to see her again.

I turned off the shower and hugged a towel around my hips. I pulled my phone out of my jeans and the paper from my vest. Butterflies bumped around in my stomach. My breathing quickened. I felt like a little boy again with a crush. I punched the numbers in and held my breath while the phone rang.

“Hello?” Her voice was the same from last night—soft and undeniably sexy.

“Hey Nicole, it's Ash...from last night.”

“How could I forget. I'm glad you called me.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get a bite to eat tonight?” I couldn't believe I was asking her on a date. The last time I asked a chick out on a date was prom back in high school. I didn't do the whole romance thing. I used women for sex and moved on.
They had no other use to me. But Nicole was different.

“I'm sorry, I can't,” Nicole replied.

My heart dropped to the floor. My hands went numb and I almost dropped the phone. I couldn't believe she was rejecting me again.

I was ready to hang up on her when she spoke up, “I mean I can't go out tonight. I have to work.”

Relief flooded me. “How about after work? What time do you get off?”

“I have an earlier shift tonight so I get off around ten. I have some homework to do but I can put that off.”

“I'll pick you up at the club and we can get a bite to eat.”

“All right,” she whispered back.

I hung up the phone before saying goodbye. I had to leave her wanting more. At least my mind was somewhat working.
But the desire in my pants reminded me of what I really needed. I'd use Nicole just like every other slut. Flood her pussy with my cum and never see her again—that was the Dark Steel way.

I went back downstairs and the place was buzzing. A big difference from the graveyard I stumbled upon this morning. Hammer found me through the crowd. “Ash we have a club vote now.”

“Be right there, Prez.”

—

Hammer hit the gavel on the long wooden table with our club symbol—a sword driven through a skull—carved into it. Framed pictures of our fallen brethren including my older brother hung on the wall. The members quit chatting and faced towards their president.

Hammer put his elbows on the table and folded his hands. “We have a few things to go over today, gentlemen. I'd like Rowan to take over now.
”

Rowan was a smart guy—went to college, started a few businesses, and became the logical choice for club treasurer. He wasn't the usual type that joined a MC but he fit in nicely.

Rowan brought out some papers and put on a pair of round glasses. “I was going over the finances and I thought I'd give everyone an update on how we're doing. As usual, The Burger Joint is bringing in fifty-four percent of our income. Guns are thirty percent and drugs are only sixteen percent. I've talked to Hammer about this a few times and I think it's time to open up another burger restaurant.”

“So you want to start a chain?” I asked him.

Hammer butted in. “We put our blood, sweat and tears into this club. Lost a lot of men along the way. Drugs and guns are the riskiest ventures—too many ways the cops can take us down. We can't lose everything we built. It's time to focus on more legitimate sources of income. Bring this club into the future.”

Jasper coughed into his hand. He was the oldest member and never wanted any responsibility. But we all looked at him for guidance. “Hammer is right. Look at our brothers.” Jasper pointed to the frames on the wall. “We can't lose anymore.”

Everyone bowed their heads. I thought about my brother, AJ. His devil-may-care attitude. He taught me everything I knew.
I wanted him back.

Jasper continued, “This motorcycle club is changing and we need to accept it.”

Hammer took up the gavel. “I propose we cut out drugs for now and keep the guns business. We can sell our contacts to our black brothers and focus more on the new restaurant. All in favor, raise your hand.”

I knew the club needed to go legitimate at some point but I thought that was a long way from now. I didn't want to give up being an outlaw. I couldn't imagine myself working in a burger restaurant the rest of my life. But I had to focus on the survival of the MC.

I raised my hand along with the others. It was unanimous.

Hammer pounded the gavel to the table. “There's only one problem,” Hammer began, “we need to to break the news to the Los Diablos. The Blacks won't sell to the Mexicans; by doing this deal we are essentially cutting the Mexicans off from their number one supplier.”

“And how do you suppose we get around this problem?” Maverick asked, rubbing his large stomach.

“We need to set up a meet with the Los Diablos and explain to them why were doing it. If we find them another supplier, they won't be happy but maybe it will prevent a blowback.” Hammer looked around the room at all of us. “We need to work together on this.”

“Miguel and I grew up together,” Jasper announced. “Let me talk to him. I can get him to see it our way.”

Hammer nodded. “Zane, I need you to reach out to your contacts in Vegas. See if you can find a new supplier. Make sure they'll be willing to work with the Mexicans.”

Zane looked up from cleaning his gun and nodded. Zane's tattoos covering every inch of his body, including his shaved head. He was always fiddling with his guns, never paying too much attention to what was going on around him.

“This meeting of the Dark Steel MC is adjourned.” Hammer slammed the table one last time.

The black coffee kept me warm as I pulled into the empty parking garage. It was five in the morning and the place was deserted. For most people this was an ungodly hour but this was the time I got the most work done. The sun was barely up and the noise of the city had not begun. It was serene and perfect.

I parked in my usual spot and walked to the dark corner of the parking garage. I came to a long door that stated: Electrical Closet. Warning: High Voltage. I pulled out my key card that had my name engraved and slipped it into the subtle slot right below the door handle. A beep announced that it was okay for me to turn the handle.

The room was pitch black until I flipped the switch. The lights flickered and buzzed, lighting the small space. Nobody was here yet. I was always the last to leave at night and the first to arrive in the morning. We used to have a whole floor in the office building above but the bosses cut the team by ninety percent and exiled what was left down here. I actually liked it more. Less people meant less annoyances.

I sat down in a rigid chair and let the coffee heat my hands. I blew on it before taking another sip. I glanced up at the giant bulletin board that hung on the wall. The Dark Steel Motorcycle Club had eluded us for a long time. They were pretty smart criminals—covering their tracks and never making a mistake.

The pictures of each member formed a sort of pyramid on the board. At the top was the leader, Hammer. Below him were his right-hand men, Maverick and Ash. At the base of the pyramid were the rest of the members. These were the ones we focused on the most. The less important members were more likely to mess up or turn against the MC. We knew every detail of their lives: who they talked to, who they fucked, where they took their smoke breaks. Folders and folders of small details that were for the most part useless. I had spent years of my life on Dark Steel and I had nothing to show for it.

The beep at the door signaled someone was coming in. I checked my watch that said: 5:30 A.M.

“Good morning, Agent Malarkey,” I said, surprised that he showed up so early.

Malarkey walked in carrying a tray of four Starbucks coffees. He had been with me since the beginning. He was older and more experienced but didn't have the ambition to rise the ranks. He didn't let office politics influence his decisions which made him the perfect partner.

“Coffee, Agent Swift?” he asked.

I raised my own. “Already beat you.”

Malarkey sat down and sighed. He rubbed his eyes and scratched his head.

“Rough night, Malarkey?”

“I didn't get much sleep. I got some intel from my girl at the restaurant last night.”

I quickly grabbed the file on our sources and began flipping through it. “Remind me who that is.”

“Hailey Gutter. She works at The Burger Joint.”

I turned to a photo of her arrest. Her face was contorted in disgust as she held the black sign with her serial number on it. Hailey looked like the usual scum that frequented The Burger Joint—bleached blonde hair and eyes caked in dark makeup.

“I remember now. She's slept with a few of the members in the past. We turned her a year ago when her boyfriend was arrested.”

Malarkey laughed. “Funny thing is, she broke up with her boyfriend soon after that.”

“Yeah but she can't stop talking to us or we'll leak that she's one of our sources to the MC.”

Malarkey blew on his hot coffee. “She doesn't know that we're bluffing. We would never put anyone in danger.”

I skimmed through the rest of her file for anything interesting. “What did you find out from her last night.”

“The MC has a meeting with the Los Diablos set for tomorrow afternoon.” Malarkey grinned.

I leaned towards him, my eyes lighting up. “Do you know what about?”

“The source says that there are rumors buzzing around that Dark Steel is getting out of drugs.”

The synapses in my brain fired off, connecting all the dots. “They wouldn't give their supplier to the Mexicans so they must be telling them that the Blacks are getting it. Which means the Mexicans will be without drugs.”

“Exactly,” Malarkey said, resting his hands behind his head.

“They won't be happy to get that news.”

Malarkey shook his head. “No, not at all.”

I closed the file in front of me. “Okay I want us at the meeting. Get Agent Daniels to trail Los Diablos and you and I will follow Dark Steel. We'll need surveillance equipment and a couple cars. I want us armed and ready for action. This could get messy.”

Malarkey smiled. He lived for this.

And so did I.