Shameless (3 page)

“What’d I tell you about gettin’ caught, boy?”

“Uh,” Jesse said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not to?”

The big man folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. It looked like he might split the seams of his wifebeater when he huffed, snorting like a bull about to charge.

“Yer damn right,” he thundered, then set his pale blue eyes on Layla. “Who’s yer friend?”

“Layla,” she said again, staring in awe at the man towering over her. “I met him in juvie.”

“Funny,” he gruffed. “You don’t look the type.”

“She’s not,” Jesse intervened. “But we can talk about that another time. What’s for dinner?”

His brows furrowed beneath his red bandana, coming together like two fat, white caterpillars in the center of his forehead. “You been gone for months, and the first thing you wanna know is what’s for damn dinner?”

Layla froze, her gaze flicking between the two of them as the tension in the room mounted. The guy looked like he could tear Jesse in half. Why wasn’t
he
the president of their club?

But then he laughed thunderously, his belly heaving with the effort as he ruffled Jesse’s truffle-colored hair.

“Beef stew,” he said in between booming chuckles. “What else?” Then he turned to Layla. “You eat beef, doncha?”

“Yes,” she said warily.
What the hell is going on?

“Good!” he said, then clapped Jesse so hard on the back that he doubled over. “I gotta finish peelin’ the potatoes. Should be ready in a couple’a hours.”

“Great,” Jesse wheezed as he retreated, stomping off into the back room.

Camel caught the expression on Layla’s face after the man was gone. “That’s Bear,” he said. She was hardly shocked at the name. “He’s kinda like our den mother.”

“He’s an old-timer,” Jesse added, rotating his shoulder as if Bear might have dislocated it with his enthusiasm. “He used to own this place back when it was legit. I used to work for him, until the place got shut down.”

“Shut down?” Layla echoed. “Why?”

“He got sick,” Camel said, rubbing the back of his head and lowering his voice. “They had to replace his liver. It cost him the shop.”

“He’s fine now, though,” Jesse was quick to say as he saw Layla’s look of concern. “He just doesn’t ride anymore. He sticks around to give us a few tips, though. And he’s got some damn good connections at the sheriff’s office, which’ll come in handy soon enough, I imagine.”

“Especially since we ain’t gonna fuck around with no small time stuff anymore,” an unfamiliar voice chimed in from the shadows. “Ain’t that right, Jess?”

Layla turned, catching a flash of amber-colored eyes as a dark figure pushed off the far wall and began sauntering toward them. He was a little shorter than Jesse, but just as well-built, even if he didn’t quite have his bulk. His shoulder-length hair was the same honeyed tone as hers, and a grizzled mustache and beard covered most of his tanned face. He looked like a scruffier version of Thor, but somehow, that made him even sexier.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Jesse said dismissively. But his friend didn’t seem satisfied.

“When?” he asked, pulling a Marlboro from behind his ear. “We’ve been puttin’ it off all the while you were gone. Don’t you think we should—”

“I said
later,
Gunner,” Jesse said in a tone that quieted the rest of the room.

Gunner stared at him, his predatory eyes locked onto Jesse’s as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth. He lit it between his lips and crushed the filter as he slowly smiled.

“You got it,” he said, each word issuing a plume of smoke. “
Boss.
” Then he set his sights on Layla. “This your new bitch?”

“
New
bitch?
” she snapped, looking him up and down. “Afraid somebody’s gonna take your spot?”

“Well, look at that,” Gunner said, running his tongue over his dry, cracked lips. “Kitty’s got claws.”

“Enough,” Jesse said, brushing Layla behind him with a sweep of his arm. She stumbled and grabbed onto his jacket to keep from being toppled over by the momentum. “She’s here as my guest. Whether she decides to stick around is up to her.” He stepped closer to Gunner until he was almost touching the bright orange cherry of his lit cigarette. “But I hear you callin’ her a bitch again, I’ll make you swallow that cigarette. And I won’t put it out first. We clear?”

“Crystal, birthday boy,” Gunner replied, blowing another puff of smoke into Jesse’s face before turning his back on him. He shot one more look at Layla, smirked, and stalked back into the shadows.

“Sorry,” Jesse said as he turned around to face her. “Looks like some things have gotten outta hand while I was gone.”

“Guess so,” Layla agreed, her eyes glued to Gunner’s retreating form. “What’d he mean about small time stuff?”

“That’s somethin’ you don’t have to worry about,” he answered grimly. “Not tonight, anyway. C’mon, lemme introduce you to the rest of the gang.”

Jesse made the rounds with Layla by his side. In addition to Camel, Gunner, and Bear, she also met Gordo, a portly Mexican who was responsible for acting as an emissary between the Marauders and the Hispanic clubs in the area, and Hollywood, who looked like he belonged on Malibu beach with a surf board in one hand and a joint in the other.

They were all nice enough to her, but Layla still felt out of place. She’d expected something different—a little less gritty. They were running a chop shop out of the Mirage in order to eke out an existence. Most of them didn’t have family to speak of, or if they did, it still wasn’t something they wanted to discuss. The Marauders weren’t just playing at rebellion, she realized. They were trying to survive.

“Culture shock?” Jesse asked after the meet-and-greet was over.

“A little,” Layla admitted, shifting uncomfortably as she leaned against the wall. “How’d you get mixed up in all this? I mean, some of this stuff has got to be a felony. You’re just a kid.”

Jesse chuckled softly and took off his shades, revealing his glittering eyes.

“I haven’t been a kid since I was five years old, beauty queen,” he said, but before Layla could ask him what he meant by that, she heard the peal of a dinner bell being struck.

“Food!” Bear howled from the back. “Get your asses over here!”

“Whaddya say, Layla?” Jesse asked, grinning wide as he opened the door. “Can I treat you to dinner?”

“Fine,” she agreed, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “But after that, I wanna go home, okay?”

Jesse’s face fell, but he compensated quickly by returning his shades to their place over his eyes.

“Sure, beauty queen. Whatever you say.”

It was surreal watching the gang sing “Happy Birthday” to Jesse over beef stew and ice cream cake.

Layla still wasn’t sure what to make of it all. She’d always considered herself something of a badass; a rebel whose cause was usually just getting her way. But she’d never struggled like these guys obviously had, and she sure as shit didn’t want to. She wasn’t saying that her parents were right, but maybe they weren’t wrong, either.

On the other hand, they were so
nice.
What little they had, they had to share, and they were more than happy to do so with her, even though she had much more than they ever would. Even though they were all from completely different worlds, they tried to ask her about her life and chime in with whatever commentary they could muster.

Except for Gunner.

He sat quietly at the table, staring at Layla in between spoonfuls of ice cream cake. She glanced at him as he licked his spoon, sensing some sort of invitation in the way his bright red tongue slid over its metal curves. She turned away quickly each time she caught him staring, only to look again to see if he still was. Something about the way he looked at her was both offensive and terrifyingly attractive all at the same time.

She leaned her chin on her hand and watched as Jesse opened up his gifts. They weren’t terribly impressive—a carton of cigarettes here; a baggie of weed there; a six pack of his favorite beer; and a book from Bear,
Lord of the Flies.
Layla clapped at the unveiling of each one anyway, watching as Jesse smiled wide and blushed whenever another gift was laid in front of him. Clearly, he wasn’t used to the attention.

She wondered what Christmas had been like for him growing up. Then another thought struck her: had he ever even had a Christmas?

“Ready to go?” he asked her, pulling her from her reverie.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “But if you wanna stay a while and celebrate—”

“It’s okay,” he said, looking back at his brethren as they fought over the slice with the most icing on it. “I made you a promise. Thanks for keepin’ yours.”

Layla pressed her lips into what she hoped was a convincing smile. “You’re welcome,” she said as he opened the door to the chop shop for her.

Just as she was crossing over the threshold, she heard Gunner say: “Perfect. Now that Cinderella’s gone, maybe we can get back to business.”

“When I get back,” Jesse said, but Gunner wouldn’t let it go.

“What’d you bring her around here for, anyway?” he asked, dropping his spoon onto his paper plate. “Couldn’t get her tickets to the real circus, so you brought her to see the freak show?”

“I don’t think anyone here’s a freak,” Layla said before Jesse could stop her. “Except for you.”

“You have no idea, darlin’,” Gunner replied, leaning forward across the table. “I’d rip you up in ways you couldn’t even imagine.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jesse snarled. “She’s leavin’.”

“She shouldn’t have even been here in the first fuckin’ place!” Gunner replied. “This ain’t your fuckin’ love shack, Jess. The Marauders ain’t all about eatin’ cake and lightin’ candles and showin’ off your new bougie fuckin’ girlfriend to the guys. You’ve got a fuckin’ responsibility, here. And if you wanna be President—”

“
If?
” Jesse asked. His muscles bunched as he stared into Gunner’s eyes. “Who’s gonna fuckin’ take it away from me, Gunner. You?”

“Maybe no one’ll have to, if you can get your fuckin’ head out of her pussy and man the fuck up!”

“What do you want, Gunner?” Layla asked, stepping in front of Jesse before he lunged across the table and ripped his throat out.

“Shut the fuck up, beauty queen,” he growled. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Before Jesse could interrupt, Layla held up her hand.

“No, really. What’s got your panties in a bunch? Spit it out, or else pop a Midol and calm the fuck down.”

This time, Jesse said nothing. He hung back, arms folded, as Gunner stood up from the table and closed the distance between himself and Layla.

“What I want,” he began in a low, even tone that scared her a hell of a lot more than his yelling did. “Is to act like we’re a fuckin’ motorcycle club and not some little bitches playin’ house.” He breathed against her face, and Layla could smell not just smoke on his breath, but a touch of whiskey, too. “I wanna go after the fuckers who disrespected us at the Bottle Cap. I wanna teach ‘em that you don’t fuck with the Marauders.”

“And how the fuck d’ya wanna do that?” Bear growled from across the room. Apparently, he’d taken exception to the “playin’ house” comment that Gunner had made.

“Easy,” he answered, though he didn’t look away from Layla. “We hit ‘em where it hurts.” Briefly, he raised his coppery eyes to Jesse. “That fucker was Los Muertos, right?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said.

Gunner turned over his shoulder. “Gordo—don’t they got a warehouse near the Bottle Cap somewhere?”

“Well, yeah,” Gordo said, frowning. “But you can’t just—”

“The hell I can’t,” Gunner hissed before he could finish. He turned his attention back to Layla. “We ride there. Tonight. And we burn the fuckin’ place to the ground.” Once again, he looked at Jesse. “Unless you’re scared?”

“What’re you, twelve?” Jesse asked, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not fuckin’ scared of Los Muertos. I went to juvie over that shit, remember?”

“Yeah, but this ain’t gonna be like juvie,” Gunner said. “This is real shit—if you get caught, you’re goin’ away for a long time. I hear that fucker Arpaio don’t too kindly to arsonists burnin’ up his state.” He cocked his head. “Can you handle that? ‘Cause if you can’t, then it’s time that somebody else stepped up.”

Jesse ran his fingers through his hair and gripped the short strands at the nape of his neck, sighing hard through his nose. He didn’t look like he wanted to do it, but he didn’t look like he wanted to step down, either.

Layla watched a myriad of emotions play out across his face, most of them some variation of reluctance and anger. The rest of the club all stared at him, awaiting his final say as Gunner lit another cigarette.

“C’mon, Jess,” he said, and the flame from his lighter flickered violently. “What’s it gonna be?”

“Fine,” he said at last, though Layla could tell from his tone that it wasn’t. “Lemme just take her home first.”

“Go ahead,” Gunner replied, sitting back down in his chair. “Take your bitch home.”