

### No Way Out

by P X Duke

Copyright 2015 P X Duke

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-928161-24-0

Disclaimer

What follows is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Places mentioned by name are entirely fictitious and purely products of the author's imagination, and are not meant to bear resemblance to actual places or locations.

This is a novel adaptation of the following previously published stories:

_Dreams Die Fast_ , ISBN 978-0-9869558-0-8 Copyright 2011 P X Duke

_Dreams Die Hard_ , ISBN 978-0-9869558-7-7 Copyright 2012 P X Duke

_Dreams Never Die_ , ISBN 978-1-928161-22-6 Copyright 2015 P X Duke

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No Way Out

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NO WAY OUT

_It must have been quite a sight in 1905 when the Colorado River burst the levees near Yuma and overran towns and farms and a railroad in the Salton basin. By the time the burst banks were repaired, the expanse of water created in the basin was forty miles long and thirteen miles wide. It covered four hundred square miles._

_When it was all over and the damage was done, the water remained. It couldn't drain south into the Sea of Cortez or north into the L.A. Basin. There was nowhere for the water to go, then or now._

_It was called the Salton Sea, but it wasn't much of one. At most it was fifty feet deep in places, and more likely thirty feet on average. At 225 feet below sea level, it was just five feet higher than Death Valley's lowest elevation._

_The Salton Sea thrived. During the late '50s, the developers couldn't resist. They moved in to take advantage of the location to create a recreation and resort destination. Yacht clubs, marinas, restaurants and nightclubs all vied for the attention of the rich and famous that came to escape the big city to the north. Like moths to a flame, they were drawn to the excitement on their newly-discovered California Riviera._

_The party didn't last long._

_In the early '70s the area was damaged by heavy rains that created runoff and floods. The coastline towns and resorts were flooded and re-flooded when water levels rose. To add insult to injury, not one but two hurricanes swept through and the flame was finally, permanently, blown out._

_People walked, ran and drove away. Eventually, almost everything was closed and abandoned. Only scattered junk was left behind to be salvaged by anyone who chose to remain, or by those who wanted to escape L.A. and move to the isolation of the dilapidated, rusting former resort towns._

_In summer, daytime temperatures often hit triple digits regularly, and the nights aren't far behind. The once-successful resort area is now only a faint memory for the old-timers scattered around the Salton Sea. The towns are mostly deserted, populated only by the few regulars who have remained long past their best-before dates, living in broken-down trailers and houses built in the '60s when times were good._

_In a place like this, the dream died fast and hard a long time ago._

### ONE

**I HIT THE** road running hard every September. It could be a little later, depending on where I was when the fall weather hit. Cold, rain, sleet, and snow were too familiar to the people that never left. I became fed up with it on a regular basis and bugged out on a whim and cold morning dew that turned too fast to frost.

I wasn't looking for much. I followed the retreating warm weather on the hunt for a place to park and a roof that didn't leak. I tried on the Florida Keys for a while, but that turned out to be a giant snooze-fest. Eventually, I rode west to southern California and allowed it to become my temporary refuge of choice.

By the time late spring arrived, it would be time to hurry home to see what I had missed. Usually it amounted to not much of anything. Over time I became unable to turn away from the siren call of California and the seductive warmth she offered up to me that resembled the warm, sweet insides of a willing woman's thighs.

There was always a problem with things like that, though. As with returning to a buffet table too many times, one could often get too much of a good thing. So I deserted her, and wondered why it took me so long.

Mexico next became my favorite place to spend a winter. It wasn't the mainland that appealed to me. The more isolated states of Baja, California— _Norte y Sur_ —were the ones that beckoned.

Fickle as I was, I chose them both, one after the other. The pattern was as random as only a single paved road running up and down the length of the peninsula for a thousand miles or more could provide.

The winter sun danced on the Sea of Cortez. The locals called it the _Golfo de California_. Blue sky, sunshine, warm weather and friendly, unassuming locals made for an enjoyable stay. Occasionally, I'd encounter a kind woman, local or imported, who would offer to help while away the hours and keep me warm in the darkness of the winter nights.

The _Sol_ wasn't so bad, either.

I discovered Playa Bonita while on a ride to Puertecitos on the Sea of Cortez. Someone had graded a trail over the sand in the direction of the gulf. Out of boredom I turned off the main road. At the end of the trail I discovered a bar with a pool table and a second-floor patio where I could sit and gaze across the Golfo while watching the sun rise.

My tent found a home on a cement pad under a _palapa_ and I was happy. The closest neighbor, when there was one, was a hundred and fifty feet away. To say I was content would have been an understatement.

The playa was so out of the way that it never became swamped with RVs full of Hawaiian shirts trying to recapture long-lost youth. The poor trail over dry beach probably helped with that. Capable four-wheel drives overloaded with college kids often showed up during spring break.

That's when I usually made a run for it. I'd break camp and disappear completely, headed for the border in a run for the summer up north. Not always, though. Sometimes I'd go scarce for only a week. Sometimes, if I was late to leave, I'd get an occasional spring breaker who wanted to investigate. I'd smoke her dope and feed her booze and cook for her, and if she stayed around for a few days I was happy.

If not, I didn't care.

Either way, I was northward bound. I would pack up and be gone after another winter spent drinking good beer and wasting away. I didn't mind. I never did. Better that than shovel snow and grow old doing it.

Getting across the line on the way home was never a problem. The drug dogs on patrol never looked cross-ways at me. I would lower my sunglasses in advance so the whites of my eyes were plainly visible to the border guard, plant a grin on my face, and say, _I'm just happy to be here._

It worked every time. It brought a chuckle followed by a knowing shake of the head and a wave-through with nary a question. A stop for fuel in Calexico followed by another in Indio, and from there I'd be home-free.

I managed to get on the road before sunup in an attempt to kill miles in the cool, early-morning desert air. I was running hard, wanting to get as far north as I could in a single day.

By mid-morning I needed a break from the dust and dirt and monotony that was kicking me in the gut as only four-lane blacktop can do. I was seventy miles north of the border and looking for a pull-off, somewhere with a gas-and-go.

I spotted the brand-new casino. If I listened carefully as it grew bigger and brighter, I thought I heard it calling my name. I never could resist a siren's call, no matter who or what was doing the calling.

On a whim I downshifted, changed lanes and hit the binders to make the turnoff into the welcoming oasis. I wanted a quick break and something to chew on that I wouldn't have to choke down with cheese for good luck. Coming hot out of a winter spent in Mexico will do that sometimes.

I prided myself on running a well-maintained ride. It had to be that way. I ran many hundreds, sometimes a thousand miles, on any day when I was trying to make time and distance. Today was one of those days, and I was well on my way to hitting that thousand.

Alas, it was not to be. My luck deserted me just as I pulled out of the parking lot to get back on the road. I ended up stranded. A little better than half-way up the west side of the Salton Sea. In the middle of nowhere.

If it wasn't nowhere, somebody should take the time to explain why.

I manhandled the bike to the shady side of the gas-n-go and tried a couple of things that I thought would get me back on the road. I had no luck. I put my tools away and took a look around.

There were plenty of people arriving, but none so fortunate as to be leaving. My guess was that the slots were either big on paying off, or the players weren't big on getting out when the getting was good.

I figured I already knew the answer to that.

My bad luck started to turn a little better when I spied the flatbed tow-truck languishing in the parking lot. If I was real lucky I wouldn't end up getting hosed by a call-out fee.

I wandered over and placed a hand on the hood. It was cold. The driver had to be inside, trying to hit it big. All I had to do was wait him out. I was betting on a long wait, and sure enough, it was long enough. Either the driver had been busy re-investing his winnings or he was independently wealthy.

He finally walked out squinting into the early afternoon sunlight and the heat radiating in waves off the fresh asphalt. I took my cue and caught up just as he opened the door to the cab. I felt like a puppy glad to see anyone. Desperation would have been a better name for it, but I'd never admit it.

We worked out a cash deal and he tilted the bed and hooked up. Happy now, I balanced the bike as the driver winched it onto the flatbed. I figured there was no sense wasting space. I maneuvered it sideways, working it in close to the cab, and tied down. There was enough room left for a small car. If he got another call he'd make a little more cash to fund the next trip to the casino.

So much for the bike. Now I needed a place to stay.

Most everything I rode past after crossing the border was closed, abandoned or rusted junk—and for me, that included Calexico and El Centro. I ought to have asked for the bike to be unloaded just so I could use it as an excuse to sleep in the shade of the casino.

The flatbed driver mentioned a motel just a couple of miles away. As luck would have it, he wasn't ready to abandon the casino just yet. He made arrangements for one of his casino compatriots to drop me off on the way by.

The car tuned off the four-lane into town. Right away I knew I was somewhere I didn't want to be. Empty desert landscape surrounded vacant subdivision lots fronted by paved streets. It resembled a real-estate development on hold, just like another to the south I had investigated briefly a few short hours ago.

I was so taken with the absurdity of it that I never thought to ask questions. The driver stopped at a beat-up, single-story motel. I was almost tempted to ask to be returned to the shady side of the casino I only just deserted. If I didn't need a place to stay for more than a few days, I might have.

The Palms Motel wasn't much more than that. It almost overlooked the sea. It would have if a second story had been added when it was built back in the late '60s. Now it looked to be barely hanging on in a place that long ago had passed its own best-before date.

New bath towels. Fancy comforters. Well-lit parking in ten paved stalls. All that according to the brochure on the front desk. What a draw. If I had to hide, this was definitely the place.

I checked into nowhere.

Okay, technically it wasn't exactly nowhere, but it was close enough for me. I could still be on the south side of the border down Mexico way with a broke-down motorcycle and no place to park.

That would be nowhere.

I ran through the shower slow enough to get wet and dried off with a new bath towel in the cool air drummed out by the window-shaker. Noisy and rattling as it was, at least it worked.

I collapsed on the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep. I dreamed sweet dreams of being back on the road first thing in the morning. I didn't bother to get up in the middle of the night to check on which part of the parking lot was well-lit.

I was just happy to be here.

First thing in the morning the flatbed growled into the motel parking lot and I stepped out into the low sun to greet it. The driver would have known I wasn't going anywhere else. I climbed onto the tipping flatbed and slid down beside the bike until both wheels rested on solid ground.

—Fifty cash ought to cover it.

How much money did this guy lose at the casino's single table?

—Fifty? Shit, I could've pushed it here for that.

—You want the bike or not? This time, when I drag it up on the bed I'll be sure it's on its side. You won't need to help.

—No, don't do that. Thanks for everything. I didn't even have time to get to a phone to call for a tow.

Right. Like there was any chance of that happening once I spied that flatbed in the lot. I counted out the fifty like it was the last cash in my pocket, and it nearly was. I figured he'd be back at the casino burning that fifty in a Las Vegas minute. Then I added another ten to the thin roll and handed it to him.

You never know.

—Thanks. Are you good now?

—You bet. I'm going to hunker down until a friend does his thing and ships me some parts.

—You could do worse than this place. It's clean. Not too far from a place to eat. You might even get lucky and find a ride to the casino for a change of scenery.

—Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.

Had I been able, I would have escaped at sunup in the cool of the desert morning. Not so this time. I was trapped. And now I was leaning against a rusty neon signpost, killing time watching a flatbed leave town and wishing I was on the road right behind it.

It's the best I could do at The Palms Motel in Bombay Shores.

TWO

**I HEARD HER** before I saw her. Or rather, I heard the sound of the loud, rumbling muffler as the car rattled its way into the parking lot. The well-lit parking lot, according to the brochure I snagged from the front desk.

The lonely overhead light was still on. Except it was morning, so I guess the parking lot was well-lit after all.

The woman bumped her shoulder against the beater's rusty door. Hinges squeaked as she wrestled with it. Succeeding, she swiveled in the seat and put two feet on the pavement. She straightened and managed to push-slam the door to a close.

While she was doing it I took a look at the beat-up, dilapidated old car with paint faded by too many years under desert sun and salt-laden sea air. The windows were all down, probably because the air conditioner stopped working sometime in the past ten years.

All right, so calling it a beater was too kind.

I stood my ground leaning against the motel signpost as she walked in my direction towards the office. I took a nice long drink with my eyes, down and up and back down again just because I could. I couldn't help it. I never could.

I smiled because I liked what I saw.

If it annoyed her, I didn't care.

I pushed my own sunglasses over my forehead. Hers kept me from getting a look at her eyes. I liked to see their eyes. You can tell a lot about someone from the eyes.

Up close she wasn't anything special. No makeup. Thin lips. Small breasts. But she had dark hair and behind those sunglasses, I hoped for dark eyes to match up with the hair. Although, the long, dark hair alone was enough to get me interested.

The bridge of her nose had that little bump on it that always caught my fancy.

This one wasn't a shy one. She almost brushed up against me when she went by. I turned to get a fresh look at the other side. Like I would a steak on a grill, I always liked to check the other side.

Even with those flap pockets in the back that make a woman's ass look fat, hers didn't look that way at all. It was nice and tight looking, aided as it was by snug jeans.

It was nice enough that I hoped I'd get to see more of it.

That, and I wondered what her legs were like.

From past experience, I knew the less time spent in the middle of nowhere, the more time I'd have to be somewhere else. The faster I got busy, the more prepared I'd be when my parts arrived. I manhandled the bike in front of my room and took my tools out of a saddlebag. In no time I had the primary off and the clutch loosened up. That was pretty much it until the courier showed up.

I was still on the ground, buttoning everything up to keep the dust out. Feet scraping sand on asphalt got my attention. Whoever it was had me squinting against the sun into a silhouette.

Could it be?

—Hello.

Yes, it could. And with a soft, gentle voice.

—Hello. Aren't you the woman I saw getting out of the car?

—Yes, that was me.

—You staying here?

—No. I clean the rooms.

—Not too busy today, are you?

—We only had a couple of rooms rented last night. You make three.

Good. That meant she wasn't busy.

—It's kind of sleepy here.

—It's okay if you want to escape.

—Are you escaping?

From what I could tell squinting into a shadow, her eyes appeared to shift. She changed the subject. Now for sure I was interested.

—You want your room done right now? I can come back later if you like. I live just down the street.

—Now would be okay. I'm going to be busy out here for a bit. Let me know when you're finished.

Twenty minutes and she was back. Or maybe it was ten. This time I didn't have to squint to get a look. She made sure she was facing the sun. I took another long drink. I wondered if she could tell past my dark glasses. If she could, it didn't seem like she minded.

—Your room is done.

—Thanks.

—I'd say you're going to be here for a while.

She must have talked to the guy at the front desk.

—Is there anything else you need?

Actually, there is. I need to see the rest of you. I could use a little bit of alabaster to rub the brown of the Mexicanas off. That wouldn't hurt, either.

I didn't say any of it out loud.

—Is there a restaurant or diner close by?

I wasn't holding out much hope.

—I'm going to the casino in a bit. You can tag along if you like.

—Sure. Give me a couple to put away my tools and clean up.

We made small talk on the short drive. I learned she was working at the motel to make enough cash to get farther north.

—Then I got stuck here. It could be worse, I guess, but at least I have a job.

—Lucky you. I'm headed north after spending the winter down Mexico way on the Baja. And I don't have a job.

—Then your bike broke down and now you're stuck here, too.

Her voice had a sympathetic tone. Or so it seemed.

—That's pretty much it until I get some parts. I'm stuck in nowhere wasting my cash on a motel room. By the time I get the bike back together I probably won't be able to afford a tank of gas to make good an escape.

She stopped asking questions after that. She probably figured I was just another down-and-out broke-ass biker missing two nickels to rub together. She wouldn't be far wrong, considering my current situation.

—I'm Frank Ross, by the way. What's yours?

—Kelly White.

Well now. I was right about the alabaster.

I was right about the car's air conditioner, too. The only breeze blew in through the open windows. We pulled into the casino's parking lot and I unstuck myself from the seat. I stepped out into the high-noon sun burning itself into the casino's fresh-paved parking lot.

—Do you work here too?

—No. My girlfriend does. She'll be getting off her shift in a bit. When you're fed and watered come find me and we'll head back.

I didn't want to miss the ride. I wolfed down a sandwich in a hurry. It wasn't like I had any extra money to burn, so I wandered past the doorway and into the small casino. Slots, mostly. A single game table.

The place reeked of tobacco. Most everyone was sucking on a cigarette. I searched the smoky room looking for Kelly. I caught her, leaned up against a slot, talking to a long, tall, good-looking drink of cool water.

Two for two. Not so bad. My luck on the road seemed to me to have found a sunny side.

—This is Tammi, my friend.

I reached a hand out and she took it.

—I'm Frank. Kelly and I met back at the motel.

I barely paid attention to the other woman. Kelly held my undivided attention, and she knew it when she caught me checking her out while I introduced myself to Tammi. What the hell, she's a woman. She ought to be used to it by now. I let her see my eyes flick over her one more time and then I looked her straight in the eye.

Well, what now, I wanted to know.

—Tammi and I were talking about going over to my place to hang out and listen to some music. You can come if you like.

I could barely hear Kelly against the noisy backdrop of the small room. She turned to Tammi and I took another good look, up and down. Still a nice fit in those jeans. She had a bra on under her white blouse, holding just enough to keep my curiosity piqued.

That was okay with me. I liked small-breasted women. They weren't always trying to stick their tits in my face to get what they wanted. They had other ways to do that. Ways I liked a lot more.

—I need to finish up a couple of things on my ride. How about if I show up later?

She didn't take any time considering.

—That's okay with me.

Tammi didn't say anything, but I don't think she minded, either.

Things were looking up.

We piled into Kelly's beater for the ride back to the deserted town. On the way, Tammi took a turn telling her story. Unlike Kelly, she was a local girl with no car and high school had been a bus-ride away. After graduating she couldn't wait to blow town. She did a circuit around Southern California, Arizona and New Mexico for a year. When she ran out of cash she took part-time jobs to make up the difference.

I wanted to know more.

—What did you work at?

—Nothing too exciting. Mostly I wanted to see the sights. Working part-time I was able to. When I had enough I came home and got lucky when the casino hung a help-wanted sign in the window.

Tammi had to be leaving something out. On the roads I traveled, the only people I knew who did a circuit were carnies, pole dancers and peelers. I left out truck drivers. She didn't look like one. I wondered which of the three she was, but I didn't ask. We all had secrets, and some of us were anxious to keep them.

—So now you're saving cash for your next adventure.

—Well, I don't know about an adventure. I had all the adventure I needed after I pulled up stakes the first time. I'm ready to take a break. How long it'll last is anyone's guess.

—I know how you feel. I'm itching to get home, too. All I need are some bike parts to make good my own escape.

I didn't ask Tammi if she had a boyfriend. I figured she had a local she went to school with. Next you know she'd be shacked up, knocked up and getting smacked up regularly by her old man on drunken Saturday nights. On Sunday morning he'd be crying his way to forgiveness at the breakfast table and finding his salvation in church later on in the day.

Life goes on.

Like I was such a prize.

Broke-ass and stuck in a nowhere town after spending the winter down on the Baja. I was lucky I made it out of Mexico before my bike did its number on me and broke down.

At least the ass wasn't torn out of my jeans.

Yet.

I still had a bit of cash in my pocket. Probably enough to get me home if I counted real careful.

I was a prize all right.

—When you're ready my place is just down the street towards the sea. You'll see the car out front.

The room air conditioner welcomed me back to my latest home away from home with window-rattling comfort. The man-made breeze was a relief from the oppressive afternoon heated air conditioning of Kelly's beater.

I stripped down, washed up and hit the rack for a mid-afternoon siesta.

You can't be too careful.

And I'm not getting any younger.

THREE

**I CAME TO** late in the afternoon and dove into the shower. I dried off using one of the advertised new bath towels. I dug in my bag for the clean clothes I always started with when I headed out on a run.

Satisfied with the new look the same as the old look, I headed out the door and down the road, hoofing it. Still nowhere, and on the lookout for Kelly's beater, supposed to be parked in a driveway.

Shit. I never asked about the house.

I knocked on a door. Good guess, because Tammi framed herself in it when she showed up. She opened it and for spite turned sideways to show me what I was missing out on. Turns out it was plenty. She was one good-looking woman. Hell, if I wasn't already interested in Kelly I'd be all over this one.

She leaned back against the door, forcing me walk past her to get in. One at a time, her breasts brushed lightly against my arm. Or maybe I imagined it. For an instant I considered stopping between them and then thought better of it. I kept on into the trailer. Or were they called manufactured homes now? I could never remember.

—Where's Kelly?

—She went to the store. She thought you might like some real food since you've been down in Mexico all winter.

The tow-truck driver had been right about a meal being not far from the motel, although I was pretty sure he hadn't meant this place.

—Well, she's not wrong about that. I can't wait to get a taste.

I grinned. Tammi grinned back. She wasn't shy either. After we locked eyes she made sure I saw hers flick the length of me. Mine followed, glued to her, in return. I figured we were in some kind of a standoff, but what the hell.

Women. I never could understand them.

Without Kelly to distract me, I enjoyed the better look. For sure Tammi was no slouch in the assets department. She had a nice little body to go along with the pretty face. She was tall, too. Taller than me by a couple of inches. The extra length had all gone to her legs. More dark hair, but her eyes were the brightest blue. I'd have to watch out for this one, but right now I was more interested in finding out what Kelly might offer up for dessert.

The door slammed and Kelly revealed herself in a green sun dress. I knew right then and there I was going to have a problem, but not with Tammi. Kelly was a plain-looking woman—not that that's a bad thing. Even so, the color of that dress set her up perfectly, and she knew it.

She even went to the bother of applying a little lip gloss for makeup. Nothing else. It was all she needed.

I was hooked. And did she have legs. I scolded myself for thinking she might not beneath the jeans when I first laid my eyes on her. The half I could see hanging down from the bottom of her dress looked interesting. It made me want to see the rest of them. Not soon enough if I had my way.

She smiled.

Just what I needed. Real trouble.

—Were you wondering if I abandoned you?

—Only until Tammi told me where you were.

—Good. I don't like to be too predictable when I'm getting to know someone.

Some were always looking for an angle. Kelly found hers. Better yet, she admitted it. It started to look like I might have a comfortable wait for my bike parts to show up.

Kelly rattled dishes doing her thing in the kitchen. I offered to help but she shooed me away for my troubles. Instead, I helped Tammi set the table and then banished myself to the living room. Tammi followed and I had my chance. I went for it.

—So what's Kelly's story? She isn't a local. Did she end up getting stranded here too?

—No. Well, yeah, kind of. Her boyfriend ended up down here looking to keep his dream alive. She wanted to support him, so she came with him. He wanted to escape L.A. and live a life of leisure across the sea in that concrete jungle junk-yard with no money, no ideas, no hope, and no future.

—Junk-yard?

—Slab City. It's on the east side of the sea. You probably haven't seen it.

I heard a similar story so many times they all sounded the same.

—And she's still here?

The boy was busy enjoying the free lunch when the girl finally caught on and threw his lazy ass out. He skipped with her money, her car and her future. The dream died fast and my bet was that this particular boy hasn't been seen in these parts since.

—How did that happen?

Tammi ignored the question. It told me my guess had to be as good as any.

—She makes a little cash to get by. She found that wreck of a car over at Slab City. She had some help working on it. She got it running and when she drove by the motel there was a help wanted sign hanging in the window. You know the rest.

—Yes I do. And here I am.

We shared the laugh at two of us stuck in this hell-hole and the fact that neither was getting out any time soon. Although, I'd bet good money that I'd be the first to leave.

—Hey, you two, you're having too much fun out there. And stop talking about me. I'm only in the next room. I can hear everything you say.

I had one more question.

—You don't seem to mind it here. Did your adventures tire you out so much that you're home to stay now?

I never did get an answer. Instead, Tammi excused herself to join Kelly in the kitchen. I heard some whispering I couldn't make out, and then Tammi made a lame excuse about having to get home. It was about to become dinner for two.

I didn't mind.

I took the extra dishes off the table. I didn't want anything cluttering up the place besides me.

—There's some candles in the drawer by the sink.

I lit them while Kelly put dinner on the table. In the subdued light everything looked pretty good.

Especially Kelly.

I might have thought about pinching myself. I didn't.

FOUR

**LONG SHADOWS ADVANCED** across the desert floor as the sun began slipping below the crest of the Santa Rosa mountains. Cool darkness began to exert its hold over the hot desert day as the dark, hard night began overtaking sunset.

—I'll turn on a light.

I moved to get up. Kelly shifted on the sofa and her dress came up, revealing a tanned thigh.

—Don't do that. Let's sit and watch the sun go down.

—I miss the long summer evenings up north. The sky is lit up until nine or ten when the sun finally sets. Down here it gets dark a lot sooner.

—If we were there it wouldn't be dark.

—Yes, but if we were there, it'd be light enough for me to see your legs.

—Don't concern yourself with that.

Kelly paused just long enough to make me wonder.

—You'll get to see them soon enough.

I couldn't help grinning and she couldn't help smiling and then she stood up and turned to face me. She hiked up her dress just far enough to straddle me on the sofa.

—Damn you, woman. It's too dark for me to get a look.

—You'll see them.

I slipped cool hands beneath the loose material of her dress and fumbled until I felt fingertips on bare skin. I slowly ran my hands up the warmth of long, taut thigh. They slipped higher and I knew beneath the dress, Kelly was naked. She sighed warm breath against my neck and relaxed into me. Her lips moved against my ear.

—You're still hungry, aren't you?

She pulled away.

—If this is dessert I'm going to have all of it. I hope you don't mind.

Her lips pressed against my ear one more time and she exhaled.

—Not so far.

If an alarm went off, I didn't hear it. I kept my eyes closed and listened, wide awake and tuned to what I could hear. Sheets rustled and a body moved, rewarding me. The mattress shifted. Kelly was trying to sneak out of bed without disturbing me.

I cracked an eye to get a better look in the early-morning light streaming through a window. It definitely looked like a second helping of dessert would be in order. There'd be no leftovers if I had anything to do with it.

—You have great legs, woman.

She turned towards me, not the least bit shy. Why would she be after last night?

—I wondered when you'd finally get that look you wanted so bad. When I first saw you checking me out in the parking lot, I said to myself, there's a man with hungry eyes.

—I wouldn't call it checking you out. It was more like staring. And you don't want to know what I was thinking.

—Tell me.

—Well, being the man that I am, when you walked past I turned to get a look at the rest of you.

—And?

—I'm still here, aren't I?

She wouldn't take that for an answer.

—Don't stop now. You're not going to get away with holding out on me.

—I said to myself, nice ass.

She grinned and I didn't tell her about the pockets on the jeans and how sometimes they made a woman's ass look fat. I knew better.

—Men.

I returned the grin.

—Women.

I ran my eyes up and down the length of her. Twice. I wanted a good look in case I didn't get another.

—Those eyes are definitely hungry. Here, feast your eyes on this.

She turned and slapped her rear.

—Now close your mouth. You're starting to look like a college boy.

—You wish. Come here.

—I have to get to work.

—I'm not stopping you. Do we have time to do a little spooning?

She looked at me, warily. She already knew how that would go.

—Somehow, I don't think it's spooning you're wanting.

Smart girl as far as that went.

—Come on, get back in bed and I'll run a bath. When it's ready I'll come and get you.

She did as she was told. Too easy, maybe. She pulled the covers up and sighed. I waited for the tub to fill before pulling the sheet back and taking a fresh look in the light of day. I wasn't disappointed. I only briefly wondered if she was posing for my benefit, or hers.

I considered climbing into bed beside her before changing my mind. I nudged her instead.

—It's ready.

She looked down and saw the sheet pulled back and smiled.

—What are you doing? Like I need to ask.

—Is there room for me in the tub with you?

—You could watch. You seem to like to look.

So I did, until she finally eased herself out. Water dripped. Rivulets ran between breasts and thighs and other places I didn't get to see.

—That hot water felt so good.

She draped a huge towel and I made sure to rub and press all the best places, pretending to dry her off.

— I'm aching all over.

—I didn't hear you complaining last night.

I smiled, proud of my accomplishments.

—Smarty. Now get out of here and let me get dressed. I've got to go.

I called out from the kitchen.

—Coffee?

—I don't have time.

—Are you sure?

She wasn't shy. She stood in the hallway, naked, wanting me to see her. I took a good look at everything. It was in all the right places, just as it had been when she was stretched out in bed.

—If you want you can stay for a bit. I shouldn't be too long. It's not busy since the snowbirds started heading north. You can do the dishes and make the bed while you're waiting.

I smacked her rear and tried to pull her in the direction of the bedroom. Now that she had me where she wanted me she wasn't having any of it.

—I really have to go.

—So it's all right if I stay?

I wanted to be sure.

—Yes. I've never had a housekeeper before.

I brought my hand down fast, trying one more time to connect. She moved faster, dodging my hand. It connected with empty air.

—You'll have to do better than that. And in case you're wondering, you'll be having supper here again tonight.

I couldn't say no to that.

I cleaned up and did last night's dishes and tried to neat the place up. It wasn't much of a chore. Someone had trained her well. I grinned at the thought. I meant to pinch myself. Instead, I climbed back into bed, pulled the sheet over my head, and inhaled. I fell asleep almost instantly.

Like I said, I'm not getting any younger.

Man that I was, perhaps I should have spent less time sleeping and more time trying to figure out what had just happened.

FIVE

_It's known as Slab City, so called because all that's left are concrete slabs. The empty slabs, once occupied by Quonset huts and other buildings long torn down, are well beyond their best-before dates. Around a hundred desert rats populate the slabs that once were the foundations of an abandoned military barracks shut down and deserted in the early '60s._

_Each slab comes with amenities: free camping and free parking. The only drawback: it's free of electricity and running water, too, but that doesn't appear to discourage anyone. New neighbors arrive in the late fall, when a small contingent of winter transients take over more of the slabs and provide some variety in the drab surroundings._

_Where there are no rules, anything goes. Rusty junk inhabits more than a few of the slabs. There might be an old, broken-down bus or camper van or a trailer on top of some. On others, perhaps a tent. Some slabs are well-kept. Most, not._

_Mad Max would fit right in._

_Street names on metal poles belie the condition of the place. Primrose Lane. Spa Road. Paradise Way. All roads going nowhere and getting there fast—just like the people camped out on the slabs._

_The draw? Isolation. People of like mind. Escapees from the rat race. Drifters. Losers with nothing but an empty pack of cigarettes, a thirst for another sixer of beer, and a beater to drive to the store for more._

_It's a perfect place where no one goes anywhere but down the closest road for beer and groceries and nothing else. Sometimes, they don't bother to come back._

_And sometimes, they do._

**GLASS SHATTERED. SOMETHING** in the living room thumped. I wasn't even close to wide awake when I twisted out of bed in a hurry and planted two feet on the floor. My eyes opened and I looked around, still groggy and confused about the strange bedroom I found myself in.

Right. Kelly. If the woman was back from work, she had a hell of a way of announcing it. Then I remembered the beater and its squealing brakes. Maybe she drove into the living room.

My senses restored, I went on alert and stood from the edge of the bed. Whatever was making noise, something said I was about to be in deep shit. Someone was trying to get in. Then I turned that around, and, based on the noise, figured someone was already in. The giveaway was the sound of glass crunching underfoot.

I was in deep shit. In an instant I ran through the possibilities. Husband? Kelly never said she was married. Boyfriend? Could be, I guessed, and most likely. Whichever it was, she wouldn't be the first woman I slept with who had a husband or a boyfriend thought to be out of town.

It took another instant to finish with the guessing. I dropped down on all fours and reached under the bed. I crawled on my hands and knees to the closet. I checked behind the bedroom door. Finally. Naked and armed with a bat, I felt a lot better about walking into the living room.

Some dumbass lay sprawled on a carpet of glass. He was struggling to get up onto his hands and knees. For a welcome change, the dumbass wasn't me. I cold-cocked him with a just-right tap of the bat. That put him back on his stomach in the broken glass.

More crunching glass behind me caused me to swing around. I faced Kelly, who chose that moment to walk into the middle of it. I lowered the bat and let her know in no uncertain terms I wasn't happy.

—Who the hell is the hockey player? Is there something you want to tell me?

I grabbed prince charming by the mullet and pulled his head up to give her a good look.

—What? He's not a hockey player. That's my ex!

No shit, Sherlock. I already had that figured out. To be certain, I asked.

—Ex-husband?

—No! He's my ex-boyfriend.

I let go and the head thumped back down onto its broken-glass pillow.

—Dammit, woman. Why the hell didn't you tell me he'd be coming back? I would have left this morning when you did.

—I didn't tell you because that asshole was already gone. He left town with my money, my car and his dreams. The useless bastard probably came back because he's broke. I don't want him here. We're done.

She walked up and kicked him. Hard.

—Did you hear that, you useless son of a bitch? You're not so brave now that you know there's a real man here, are you?

Buddy groaned and she kicked him again. It was another good one.

—Stop pretending and wake the hell up, you asshole. Get up, get out and don't come back. Ever. And where's my car?

Buddy mumbled a mouthful of nothing.

—What?

—I sold it.

—You son of a bitch!

Kelly went at him again. This time, both feet flew, thumping against him one after the other as fast as she could go. By now I'd gathered enough sense to put on my shoes. I pulled her away and lifted her off the ground. She kept up with the kicking, feet flailing into empty air.

—Settle down. He's not worth it.

I let her slip out of my arms. Her flailing feet took her in the direction of the man. It was as though a moth to a flame.

—Let Buddy get up so he can get on down the road and keep going.

Buddy managed to get on his feet. He swayed back and forth, as though unsure he should be leaving. Kelly picked up the bat and waved it. Buddy kind of took on a tilt in a couple of different directions, but he stayed on his feet, unsteady as they were. I wouldn't be too steady either if I'd just had a bat and a pair of boots work me over.

—If you ever come back here you'll regret it. I'll see to that for sure.

She might be overdoing it, but could I blame her? It was pretty obvious she was angry, like maybe she'd waited for an opportunity like this for a while.

—All right. That's enough. Let him go.

I grabbed the bat away from the woman. Cut, bleeding and soon to be sore, Buddy limped towards the sliding door in the direction opposite to which he had arrived. He tripped and stumbled through the broken door, heading for parts unknown and a long way from here.

Or so I hoped.

Kelly had acted as though she was unattached when she let me into her bed, and I guess she was. At least, that's what I was led to believe. Apparently, nobody bothered to let good old Buddy in on the secret. Maybe his presence had something to do with that. He did seem to know his way around the place, and he certainly wasn't shy about crashing the party.

I wondered how long he and Kelly had been together—not that it mattered. There was the possibility he might come back with a gun and a better idea on how to get in. If that should turn out to be the case I didn't want to be caught napping again.

Now that I had time to think about it, Kelly had been awful quick to invite me into her home. Going by what happened with Buddy, it wasn't because she couldn't take care of herself. Her boots had put a pretty good dent in old Buddy.

Someone owed me an explanation. Instead of patting myself on the back for my good fortune, I should probably keep my eyes and ears open. I didn't want to end up like Buddy in a pile of broken glass.

Although, if last night was any indication, a man could get mighty comfortable with the woman and her bed.

Maybe I'd keep just one eye open.

I didn't like playing dumb. After fumbling in the kitchen and coming up with coffee, I tired of waiting for Kelly to broach the subject.

—Are you going to tell me about Buddy?

—Buddy? Who the hell is Buddy? His name is Grant.

—That's what I said. Tell me about Buddy.

We burst out laughing at the mix-up.

—Don't make me do that. I'm sore all over. What did you do to me last night?

—Only everything you asked me to. Now tell me more.

We broke out laughing again. This one had a sense of humor, at least. Even so, I had enough.

—You go take another bath. I'll clean up the glass in the living room. When you're done I'll cook something for you. You've got to keep your strength up now that you've got a man around to do the housecleaning.

—Don't you be trying to sweet-talk yourself back into my bed.

—If I recall, you're the one that invited me into it last night. And that's what giving me a look at your legs did for both of us.

—In that case, never again.

I slapped her ass. That was turning into a bad habit with this woman, but I couldn't resist. It looked so nice in those jeans. If I had my way, her ass would get slapped on a regular basis.

Kelly headed down the hall while I searched the fridge. We nattered back and forth until I swatted over a hot stove to fill her plate.

—That smells good and looks even better. I'm starving.

—Dig in, baby. It's all for you.

—Yeah, that's what you said last night, too. Look at me now.

—Damn, you're some woman.

—Does that mean you're coming back for more?

—I haven't left yet. Now eat. We've got to get your strength back up.

She looked across the table at me. I sat and grinned like a schoolboy. I couldn't think of anything to say. She said it for me.

—It's not my strength I'm worried about.

I let her eat while I wondered what might be coming my way next. Old Buddy had to be missing his woman if what she was had going with me was any guide.

Kelly returned from the motel in short order. With only two rooms to do, she finished up in half an hour. The instant she was in the door, she took my hand and led me outside.

—Come on, it's time.

—Hey now. I'm not some robot that you can command any time you want. I need rest, too.

—Oh, really? If I'm going to have a man like you around I'll need every bit of strength I can muster. And since you've been cooking for me in the morning, I think I'm going to like it.

—Yeah, well, don't get too cocky. I can always go back to my room at the motel.

—You could, but you still have to eat, and my kitchen is connected to my bedroom.

—Yes, and we both know what else is attached to your bedroom.

—Yes, you do. Now give me a minute.

We went inside and Kelly disappeared into the bedroom. Clothes rustled and my imagination went wild. Before I could rush the bedroom she returned wearing another dress.

—How many of those things do you have?

—Judging by how you've been looking at me since I put one on for you yesterday, I'd say not enough. Now let's go before you start getting ideas that neither of us is up to.

—I'll hold you to that. Come here.

I reached around and ran my hands beneath the dress. I gave her firm rear a warm squeeze and discovered she was commando.

—Come on, or we'll never get out of here.

Reluctantly, I removed my hands.

—Don't be such a spoil sport. You know the way to my heart.

—Yes I do, and so far it seems to be legs and ass with only a bit of food now and again for good measure.

She looked at me and smiled sweetly.

SIX

**I SLIPPED A** hand beneath the sheets and made contact with a firm, warm thigh. I shook the woman attached to it and she sighed, not yet fully awake.

—Are you planning on getting up for work, or are you going to play hooky?

Under the sheet, a single foot slipped up and a knee rose to make a tent. It parted wide and I knew there wouldn't be any resistance.

—I didn't think you were awake.

—I was pretending. I was such a maniac the other night I didn't want you to think I should be arrested.

The sheets rustled as she turned to look at me.

—You're preaching to the converted. I already know you're a maniac. It's just a matter of figuring out to what degree and for how long you should be locked up.

—I'll make it all up to you by cooking breakfast.

What the hell, I figured I should pay the rent somehow.

—Breakfast? You're going to make breakfast?

Her legs came together almost as fast as they parted.

—You know it.

I jumped out of bed and took the easy way out. I already knew eggs and toast would cut it. In minutes she was at my side.

—It smells good out here.

—Yeah, and now it looks good out here.

Kelly hugged me before sitting down to devour everything I put on the plate, but that was all right. Hungry women appealed to me.

—You ate that food like a death row inmate eating a last meal.

—I wouldn't put it quite that way, but it seems to me that a woman had better keep her strength up when there's a man like you around.

—That's what I'm afraid of.

She looked at me, all of a sudden serious.

—I know you're not going to be around for long, Frank. Even so, there's no sense sleeping at my place and keeping a room at the motel. If you want, you can bring your things here.

She didn't use the move-in words, and I was happy because of it.

—Are you sure? I don't want to cramp your style. I could be a serial sex maniac on the prowl for someone just like you.

She couldn't help grinning and I knew right away that's what we were both hoping for.

—In that case, you got lucky, baby. You found me.

—Your friend Buddy isn't going to take exception, is he? He could always come back.

—He won't be back now that he knows you're here.

That's what I figured, too. In fact, I started to wonder if that's the reason I got the invitation in the first place.

—Let's hope not.

Kelly gave her dress a flip and I got a show of her never-ending legs as she went out the door. Like the dog in heat that I am, I went after her.

—Are you planning on following me to work, too?

—Not at all. I wanted to see if the sun would shine through that dress enough to give me a look at what it's covering up.

—If you're good, you'll get a look when I get back.

—In that case, don't be too long.

I started thinking I'd be liking it here.

A lot.

I stood back and surveyed the damage Buddy did during the break-in. The temporary fix to the sliding door in Kelly's living room needed a more permanent repair. The sheet of thin plywood needed to be cut to fit and screw-nailed in place.

I tripped over a stash of tools and discovered a saw in a box in the front porch. Before long I was admiring my handiwork. I slid the door open and closed in its track. It was heavy, but it worked. As though on cue, Kelly slid it open.

—You weren't at work for very long.

She still looked pretty good in that dress.

—I only had a couple of rooms to do. I checked you out of the motel. We'll take the car and get your stuff later. Was the door hard to fix?

—I found some tools. Am I going to get paid?

She smiled. I always figured that if a man could keep a woman smiling it was a good thing.

—No, baby, you're gonna get laid.

Now I knew I was right about that.

—What's the difference?

She laughed at me. I never liked it when that happened.

—I guess that's why I have the job and you're the broke-ass biker from down Mexico way.

I smacked her ass. I needed to stop doing that, even if this time she deserved it.

—Watch it, fella.

—I am watching it. In fact, I've been watching it since the first time I saw it.

—Speaking of getting paid, Hank gave me this.

She handed me the refund.

—You're changing the subject again.

—There's no parcel for you yet.

I looked at her, not saying anything.

—What?

—You look pretty.

Kelly blushed. I don't think she was expecting a compliment.

—What a nice thing to say. Thank you.

—How about we take a walk so I can show you off?

I'd be able to slip in an errant squeeze to add to the tension between us.

—In that case, we'll walk down to the fingers.

In light of the circumstances, I was happy to be here. It could be a lot worse. I had a place to stay that wouldn't cost much more than a little food and some sleep. I wanted to celebrate. What better way to do it than with a pretty girl hanging out beside me, even if there was no one to see us?

—What are the fingers?

—Back in the '60s this was the place to be. Every one of those man-made fingers built out into the sea had rows of RVs and trailers sitting on them. They were named for Naples, Venice, Acapulco, Honolulu. The bigger ones to the north had mobile homes.

—This must have been party central back in the drug-addled '60s.

—A lot of the people were older, but they brought their families out with them. They had powerboat races, fish derbies, that kind of stuff. Then rainstorms and a couple of hurricanes blew through. The runoff raised the level of the sea and the hurricanes swept clean what was left of the place.

—How long did the good-times last?

—Until the mid-'70s. Look around and you can see what didn't get flooded out or blown away. Deserted resort towns are scattered up and down both sides of the sea. They're all trying to cling to the past.

So that's what they were.

—On my way north I rode through what's left of a town to take a look. I thought it looked like real estate development tracts. So much went into building all of it—the people, the homes, the businesses—and then in just a few years it was blown away.

—Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a ghost town, and I guess I am. Then you showed up and I forgot all about it. I'm glad you're here.

I had it confirmed. Bombay Shores was a ghost town. It had nothing going for it.

—What do you say we keep on walking to the motel and pick up my bike? You can give me a hand pushing it.

—Just because you're a good lay doesn't mean I'm going to be your slave.

—Let's just say it's my reward. Come on, you've got work to do—and not the kind you did the other night.

—We'll find out how much energy you have when we're done.

Kelly poked me in the ribs and ran ahead before she turned and called out.

—I'm counting on it.

Hank was out front in the motel's office when we arrived, manhandling the mail.

—I figured you'd be in today.

I asked, but he had nothing for me.

—Did you get your refund?

—You bet. Thanks for letting me back out of the deal we had. I didn't know I'd end up finding a place to stay.

—I bet you didn't. Watch out for that one. She's a sly little thing.

—How so?

—I'll let you figure that out for yourself.

I threw my bag in Kelly's car and lifted the bike off of its kick-stand.

—That looks heavy. What do you want me to do?

—I tried giving you some direction the other night, but you went off on your own.

—Well no wonder. You overwhelmed me and I went speechless.

—Just because you couldn't talk doesn't mean you were speechless. No kissing up until we're home. Now get behind and push to help me get started.

—Isn't that what I told you to do?

—Smartypants.

—I'm not wearing pants.

—Damn you, woman, don't tell me that now.

—I was hoping we'd get home faster if you knew.

—Bitch.

—You love it.

—Yes, I do—especially when the bitch has no pants. Now come on. Let's get a move on. If you're lucky I'll still have some energy left when we get to wherever it is we're going.

Kelly raced past me to get into the house while I tipped the bike onto its stand. I walked through the open door and a sight for my tired eyes forced them wide open. She had hiked her dress over her hips and was bent over the table, resting on her elbows.

I didn't need to be asked twice with a view like that staring me in the face. I dropped trou and went at her like a madman. She reached back to give me a helping hand. When it was all over, she didn't even blink.

Neither did I.

—Tammi is coming over tonight. Is that all right?

She straightened and pulled down her dress.

—Of course it is. She's good company.

I wanted to know more about Kelly after Hank's comment at the motel. I knew if I hadn't broken down, I wouldn't be here. That, and running into Kelly at the motel was chance, too. Neither of us could have figured on meeting up with the other. There was no doubt that all of it was accidental.

I had been welcomed into Kelly's bed pretty quick, I'll admit. And maybe she was being a little too sweet, but the hair on the back of my neck wasn't even close to standing up. From what I could see, there weren't many prospects around the town for a woman on the prowl for some strange.

There was something nagging at me, though. Buddy's visit. It was obvious that he hadn't expected to find me. What was he doing trying to break in? Was he looking for something?

If he was, what was it?

SEVEN

**I ANSWERED THE** knock and opened the door to greet Tammi.

—Come on in. The girl is busy cooking. She pretends to be a kitchen princess when she's not being a bed bunny.

I joined in Tammi's laughter. Kelly couldn't resist getting in a come-back.

—I heard that. If you want to eat dinner, you'd better start kissing butt.

—I was doing some of that a little earlier, remember? You were asking for it then, too.

Tammi smacked her rear on the way by.

—How about it, sailor? I hear you've got stamina for two.

—You'll have to get me drunk first.

—What are we drinking, Kelly?

—And I don't drink.

—Too bad.

—Kelly, she's making a pass at me.

—Don't feel special. If she caught you she wouldn't know what to do.

If ever there was a chance to find out more about Kelly, this was it. While her cooking duties kept her busy in the kitchen, I led Tammi into the living room.

—You can start by telling me all you know about our little kitchen princess. If you don't, I'll spank you right here.

—How about we do both?

—Kelly might object. Are you gonna talk or not?

—There's not much beyond what I told you the other day. She showed up here looking for a job. She was over at Slab City before that. The rumor mill said she was shacked up with a guy from Calexico. Or maybe it was L.A.

Calexico? L.A.? Which was it? I allowed her to go on.

—Apparently Grant screwed off with all of her money and her car after his supposed drug deal went sour. He probably had people looking for him because of that, thus the reason he ran off. You'll have to ask Kelly for anything more than that, because that's all I know.

If that was Kelly's story according to Tammi, it was a short one.

—Could she have been involved in the drug deal?

Tammi hesitated before answering. I didn't think anything of it.

—I don't think so, but anything is possible, I guess.

—Did she tell you that I had a visit from Buddy?

—Buddy? That's a good one. He was here? She never mentioned it.

I wondered why.

—That's his work on the door. Or rather, it's my repair job. Buddy tried to get in the other morning when I was sleeping.

—How far did he get?

—Onto his hands and knees on the living room floor. He ended up swimming on his belly in the broken glass after I cold-cocked him with the baseball bat I found in the bedroom.

—Well, at least now he knows you're here. He probably won't come back.

—I haven't told you the best part yet. Our little kitchen princess kicked the shit out of Buddy when he was down.

—No way. Kelly, was that your ex from Slab City?

—Yeah. It was Grant. I can't seem to get rid of the son of a bitch. I hope he got the idea when he was introduced to Frank.

—Why are you calling him Buddy?

—Because that's the name I gave him.

—You're nuts.

—Yeah. Don't tell Kelly my secrets, okay?

Tammi reached around and squeezed my ass.

—Don't be telling her mine, either.

—Come on, you two. No more groping. Sit your asses down and dig in.

—See what I mean? Kitchen princess.

—You won't be seeing the bedroom bunny again if you're not careful.

—Be nice, Frank. I think she might mean it.

—Nah. I'll sweet talk her just like I did the other night.

—As I recall, you weren't doing much talking.

—Yeah, baby, and when you were trying to talk you weren't making any sense.

—Oh, tell me more. Please.

—Later, tater, when the man's asleep.

—In that case, when dinner is done I won't be sitting here listening to the two of you spread rumors about me. I'll be hiding out in the bedroom.

The pair of them serenaded me by trading stories about old boyfriends. Peals of laughter and a few tears caused me to finally give up and go to bed.

Kelly rattled drawers and slammed doors in her attempt to make sure I was wide awake by the time she pulled aside the covers. She was successful and I finally rolled over and looked up at her while propping my head on my bent elbow.

—I think Tammi has a crush on you.

I knew she was right but I also knew I'd be damned to eternal hellfire if I admitted it.

—It's not a crush when all she wants to do is get laid. Stop telling her about what we've been doing. What if she shows up here when you're at work? Would you like me to take care of her, too?

—The way she's been talking, I don't think it would take much.

—You didn't say no, baby.

—That's because I'm not going to leave you with anything to take care of her with.

—So then, you're going to cut off my balls?

—No, that's not exactly what I had in mind to do to your balls. Why don't I show you?

I shared breakfast with Kelly before patting her on the ass and sending her off to work on a full stomach. If I could help it I wouldn't be surprised again by someone interrupting my beauty sleep first thing in the morning.

I stayed up and killed time by unpacking. I put a few things away in an open drawer Kelly emptied for me. I nosed through a couple of the others but got bored when I didn't come up with anything interesting beyond bras and panties.

The rest of my stuff I hung in the closet beside some of her dresses. I took a quick look at jackets and nightgowns, and knew I'd probably never see her in one of those.

My attention turned to the boxes on the floor. Shoes, most likely. I bent down for a better look just because I could. Shoe boxes. I opened a couple. Shoes. I opened the last one and jumped up, banging my head banged against the door frame.

What the hell?

EIGHT

**I TOOK A** step back, more from shock than surprise. Or maybe it was both. The hair on the back of my neck finally caught up and was standing straight up. Still, I had to think.

Why would a scorpion—

Just when I started to think I'd be okay here. I began pacing back and forth in the bedroom before sitting on the bed.

It was coke. The quantity wasn't a small one, either. I figured about five keys. And it wasn't just any coca. The package was marked with a scorpion. That meant Colombian. Arellano Felix. Baja. Tijuana. Mexicali was 70 miles down the road. Those guys ran down the Baja and across to Sonora on the mainland.

The realization finally hit me. I leaned over and put my head in my hands—like it would do any good.

I was shacked up with a woman holding cartel drugs. A lot of cartel drugs. Another lightbulb went off in my head, and it suddenly became evident why Kelly's legs had parted so easily. That's why she was so happy to have me between them. And that's why she told me I could stay with her while I waited out my bike parts.

She needed a watchdog in case the boyfriend came back for the goods. Any dog would have done, but I just happened to be the one that showed up and made it obvious I was sniffing.

Buddy's visit couldn't have been an accident. He came looking for something, and I just found out what it was. He wanted the coca. No wonder her ex was trying to get into the place. He had a huge monkey on his back, one that would get him killed without blinking an eye if those drugs didn't get back to their rightful owner.

Because why would some _chapuline_ , some grasshopper, slang for a small scale street dealer, have five keys of coca in her closet?

I wondered. Did Kelly have any idea about the trouble she was holding in her closet? Who was the owner? Kelly? Had she stashed them there for safekeeping? Perhaps Buddy knew they were there and wanted to add her drugs to his collection. According to Kelly, he already had all of her money and her car.

Sure as shit she must have known the closet was a bad place to store dope. That must have been why she wanted me around. The place would look occupied while she went to work.

There was one problem. Where would a woman like Kelly, making beds in a two-bit ghost-town motel, get money to lay down for five keys of coca?

Sure as shit she didn't own it. Who did?

I knew one thing for sure. If it wasn't her coke, and it wasn't Buddy's, whoever did own it would come knocking on the door pretty damned quick once they found out where the coke was stashed.

No way did I want to be around when that happened.

Kelly wasn't due home yet, and I needed to talk to Tammi. She spent a lot of time hanging out with her friend. She needed to know what was going on if she was going to keep putting herself in the hot-seat with Kelly.

I took a chance that Tammi would be home and headed across the street. I almost kicked the door before thinking better of it and only knocking. The sight of the woman in cutoffs and a tight white tee made for a welcome distraction. She didn't move out of the way. She arched her back and leaned against the door frame with her hands behind her. I was forced to push past to get in.

Her breasts were definitely firm. So were her nipples poking out from the white shirt.

—I just made some coffee. You want?

—That'd be great.

—So what are you doing here? You're obviously well taken care of. You didn't get tired of what you've got across the street already, did you? What's up?

This one was no dummy, but not for the reason she thought.

—I'm swearing you to secrecy. Promise me you won't say a word to anyone about what I'm going to tell you.

—Have you killed someone?

She waited, and I figured she was only half joking.

—Not yet.

—Then go ahead.

—Kelly told me yesterday that I could stay with her until I got back on the road. She emptied a drawer for me in the bedroom. This morning after she left I figured what the hell, I might as well put some of my stuff away in the closet.

If I'd been smart, I'd have left it at that. I've never been known to be smart when it comes to the women in my life.

—When I was done I got curious so I looked through some of her things. You know what men are like.

She nodded. She knew what men were like, all right. My eyes wandered to a hint of perfect breasts on display beneath the thin shirt. Satisfied, they roamed back up. She waited until my eyes met hers.

—Take your time. I don't mind. So What did you find, a dildo bigger than your dick?

—What the hell has that woman been telling you about me?

—Telling me? She's been bragging about you since she climbed off of you that first night, and I'm not talking about your sweet disposition. You know what else?

The answer was coming whether I asked or not.

—I've been putting myself to sleep daydreaming about you ever since.

Tammi's face went pink. Hell, I think mine did, too.

—Remind me why you came over here again.

Her eyes bored into mine, unblinking, waiting.

—It's about Kelly. She's holding Colombian coke. In her closet, of all places. I figure about five keys.

It took her a moment to comprehend and she looked away, like she was registering what I said and trying to come up with a response. She cleared her throat and hesitated again before letting her eyes meet mine.

—Are you serious? Could it belong to her ex?

She shifted her eyes away from mine again.

—It's starting to look like Buddy was left holding the empty bag. I'm thinking the only reason I'm here is because she needs someone to be watchdog when she's at work.

—She couldn't have known she'd meet up with you.

—No, that was accidental. I broke down when I went to pull out of the casino. I needed a place to stay and the flatbed driver told me about the motel.

—You were at the casino first? How did I manage to miss you?

The smile she flashed looked insincere.

—When I saw the flatbed in the lot I waited outside for the driver to crawl out of whatever rock he was under. I needed the tow and a place to stay. The Palms was the one he told me about.

—It's the only place close by.

—Shit. What the hell am I going to do about Kelly? I'll wake up in her bed and find a Mexican _sicario_ leaning over to put a bullet in the back of my head when I'm not paying attention. Wide awake or asleep, it won't matter. And I won't be the only one growing stiff and cold. Kelly will be bleeding out beside me.

—I'll take you in if you want. I don't need a man to protect any drugs.

She avoided looking at me.

—I couldn't move in with you. You and Kelly would be at it tooth and nail. I don't want that for either of you.

—You're too sweet. Have you heard anything about your bike parts?

—No. When I called a friend he said he'd ship them to the motel.

Tammi directed her gaze at me and I could tell wheels were turning.

—I won't be so sweet when you hear this. That five keys is worth around thirty-seven thousand dollars per. Don't ask how I know. If she can get it north to a major city like Chicago or New York, it's worth even more.

I had to let her know she wasn't safe.

—Nobody, but nobody, is going to let missing drugs with values like that stay missing for long. Especially a cartel. When someone finds out about the drugs in Kelly's closet, the cell-phone towers will be burning up and the SUVs full of sicarios are going to come calling.

—What are you going to do?

—I'm thinking about blowing town. The sooner the better.

Tammi stood up and began to pace. She looked concerned. She looked like I knew too much. She didn't look like she wanted to skip town.

—This is news to me. I need some time to digest it. Now get out of here before Kelly gets home and sees you walking across the street.

—Are you coming over for dinner later?

—Do you think I should?

—I'd like it if you did.

NINE

**KELLY PUT THE** package on the table and I knew right away what it was. Her long face didn't look happy knowing she would finally be rid of her freeloader. Considering I was her makeshift burglar alarm, it was no wonder.

No matter. I was ready to ride off once I did the work and my ride was ready. I'd be good to go at a moment's notice, and I wasn't about wasting any time.

—I'll be out working on the bike.

When I finished I'd be ready to load up and head out.

—I'll take Tammi and pick up some groceries. Is there anything special you'd like?

_Yeah, see if you can pick up a handgun for me at the liquor store. Or maybe you've got one stashed in the closet. In that case, I'd like to borrow it._

—No, I'm good. I'll see you when you get back. Is Tammi coming over?

Misery always did love company.

—I'll invite her.

I had the clutch installed and was busy buttoning up the primary by the time the girls showed. Kelly hugged me. I looked across at Tammi. She turned away. She couldn't bring herself to look at me.

—Hey now, what's with you two?

—Nothing, why?

—Look at the both of you.

I held Kelly at arm's length. It occurred to me that I should have done that from the start.

—What?

—My two favorite girls are all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Kelly grinned. Tammi's face turned red and I knew why.

—I dug this out of my closet. It's nothing special.

—Did you tell Tammi how much I like seeing a good-looking woman in a dress?

Tammi blushed again, and I figured I'd better shut the hell up. Women. Sometimes they can be so obvious. And more often than not, a man can be so stupid that he ends up in the same place as a woman with five keys of cartel coke and doesn't know when to leave.

—What did you pick up for dinner?

—There's steaks and potatoes for baking.

—I'll fire up the barbecue.

I walked past Tammi and out the plywood door.

—I'll help you.

I was glad for Tammi's company.

—Don't you be grabbing his ass.

—I won't, I promise.

Then she whispered.

—I want more than his ass now.

—Stop being a tease and help me put the steaks on. Screw the potatoes. I'm in no mood. I'll do them in the microwave.

Tammi took my arm.

—What happened? Why are you upset? Did Buddy come back again?

She squeezed just hard enough to let me know she was there.

—It's those damned drugs. I haven't stopped looking over my shoulder since I found them in the closet.

—What are you going to do?

—I don't know. If Buddy manages to get anywhere near this place again, I'm pretty sure I'll end up stuffing those drugs up his ass and sending him packing in the direction of the border.

—And Kelly?

I couldn't answer. I didn't know what to say.

—I know you've only been here a few days, but I can tell you like her a lot.

—That five key bundle of coca in Kelly's closet is a deal-breaker. I could end up in prison if someone makes the wrong call. And if they make the right call, I could end up full of lead. You could too if the people taking the call show up when you're here.

The options weren't looking good.

—Now you've got me worried.

—You should be. I know I am. My life isn't worth the money that five keys of coca is worth to the guys that own it. Neither is yours.

Tammi's hand brushed against mine. I grabbed it and squeezed.

—What are you two whispering about out here? Shit, Frank, you've got the steaks on already. The potatoes aren't even started.

—I'll nuke them.

Kelly knew right away something was bothering me. Tammi got smart and left us alone on the deck.

—What's with you?

—Well, for starters, you've got five kilos of Colombian in your closet.

—What were you doing in my closet?

—You told me I could stay with you. Remember the empty drawer you told me I could have? When I was putting some of my things away I kicked over a box. Surprise, it wasn't shoes.

—How do you know its Colombian?

Did she even know?

—The scorpion is a dead giveaway. Mexicali is 70 freaking miles distant. That's like next door. Does Arellano ring any bells for you? And what about Buddy? He was here looking for something, wasn't he?

I was angry that I'd been taken in by her.

—Now I know what it was.

The anger in my voice brought Tammi back to the patio. She must have thought we were close to coming to blows.

—It's bad enough that you got me into this thing with that asshole Buddy, but you got Tammi into it, too.

—You told her? What the hell have you two been doing while I'm at work?

She looked at Tammi, eyes ablaze, and then back at me, waiting.

—I went to her place to see if she knew what the hell was going on. Guess what. She didn't. She's over here visiting you almost every night. If Tammi happens to be here when the shit hits the fan, she'll end up dead beside you.

—You're exaggerating, Frank.

But I wasn't. And even if she wouldn't accept it, I knew I was right.

—Tammi, you've got to get out of here. Now. I'm sorry. I'll bring your dinner over when it's done, okay?

Tammi's face went pale. She didn't say a word. She looked at me and nodded and left to walk back across the street.

—As for you—

TEN

**IT WAS DARK** when I crossed the street with Tammi's steak.

—Come on, answer the door. I brought your steak—

Tammi swung the door wide and greeted me with a huge grin. She was out of her dress and back to cutoffs.

—I was just changing. Give me a second.

She permitted me a good look at her breasts before she pulled the t-shirt all the way down to cover them.

—How can you be so dumb? I was dressed for you tonight. Couldn't you even figure that out? What's the point of looking nice and not have someone notice?

For sure I was noticing now.

—I'm sorry. I noticed that you changed.

I noticed her naked breasts, too, and the dark nipples that tipped them.

—Small comfort.

—More comfort if you go and put the dress back on. How about it?

I couldn't help grinning. In return, she gave me that look a woman gets when a man does something stupid before she changed it into a smile.

—What are you grinning at?

—Well, I'm thinking that if you put the dress on, I've got you. And if you do, you've got me. I'd call that a Mexican standoff.

—In that case, don't go away.

I nuked the potato and set the table. Christ, does it take a woman a lifetime to throw on a dress?

—Here I am.

—So that's why it took so long. _Que chula niña._

She couldn't help blushing as I continued to stare at her.

—You like?

She did a pirouette.

— _Si. De nuevo por favor._

Tammi looked pleased as punch. She grinned and wrapped her arms around me. Man that I was, the drugs I discovered across the street put me in such a fix that I never even considered letting my hands wander.

—Okay, enough. Eat, woman.

She sat at the table. I sat across from her.

—Have you made up your mind what we're going to do about Kelly?

We? Where the hell did that come from?

—I don't know. I put my bike together this afternoon. It's good to go.

—Does that mean that you are, too?

—Well–

—Tell me.

—Yes.

—Alone?

I didn't have a ready answer. There might be an outside chance that Kelly didn't know the true value of what she had stashed in her closet. My best guess was that she did. If that was the case, she wouldn't be going anywhere with the likes of me.

—Without Kelly, that's for sure. I don't need her complications in my life. She's sitting on five kilos of coke. She won't be looking to go anywhere with a broke-ass biker. And I don't think she's hanging onto that coke to stuff it up her nose.

—Do you think she wants to sell it.

—She probably has some feelers out. That's not too smart, considering the quantity and who owns it. Sure as shit, there's going to be something coming down the pipe. It's only a matter of time. I don't want to be here when time runs out.

—Is there anything I can do?

—I don't know. Have you got a bag?

—I'll be right back.

She returned with a backpack. A battered helmet hung off the side. Judging by the thump the backpack made when it hit the floor, it was already packed.

—I've got a couple of dresses, two shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of heels, three panties, three g-strings, short-shorts, a tube top, and tampons. Will I need anything else?

—I don't know. Where are you going? And why are you bringing all that underwear?

She ignored me. It's funny how a woman will do that to a man sometimes. Instead, she started haranguing me.

—Let's see if I have this right. You've been shacked up for days with a woman you ran into in a parking lot—literally. She's spreading her legs like there's no tomorrow and grinning like the cat that ate the canary. You tripped over five keys of Colombian in her closet. Her ex is looking to score and somehow I don't think he wants to get laid.

I couldn't argue with that. It was all true.

—There's a reason Buddy hasn't forgotten about that coke, and it's probably named Arellano, don't you think? All that, and you want to stay a few more days with someone because she has a tight little you-know-what? Frank, get real.

—I never said I was a rocket scientist when it came to women. And by the way, you need to stop spending time at Kelly's if you don't want to get caught up in this.

She looked at me like I was crazy, probably with good reason.

—For crying out loud, give your head a shake. Both of them. If you haven't figured out what you should do next, I'll be happy to do it for you.

Okay, so the jury was in. I was crazy.

—Get back on the trail you rode in on, backtrack and then turn right onto the 86. Can I make it any plainer?

—Well, since you put it that way—

—It's time. You know what Kelly is up to. Get yourself out of a situation that could be fatal.

She was telling me what I had been only thinking up to now.

—Shit, we're in this together. We both need to get out. The sooner the better.

It was that simple.

—I'll wait until Kelly falls asleep. I'll push my bike over to your place, just in case. That'll give us an out if the shit hits the fan.

I said _if,_ but it was more likely _when._

—That sounds good to me.

—There's one more thing.

—What did you leave out?

—Kelly's got a _juguete_ in the closet with the dope.

—What are you talking about?

—A juguete. Sorry. I've been in Mexico too long. It's slang for a gun.

—So she means business.

—That's what I figured too. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to keep you up.

—It's too late for that. I've been up nights since I first laid eyes on you.

That again.

—I'm going back to Kelly's.

Tammi started to say something. I didn't want to listen to another word. I put a finger to her lips and hugged her. This time, I reached around with a hand and squeezed. Her ass was firm enough to take my mind off my troubles, that's for sure.

—You'd better go before she gets suspicious. If you don't, I'm going to take off this dress and let you look at more than my breasts.

Tammi was right and I knew it. I headed back across the street, anxious to get packed and get the hell out. I'd wait for Kelly to fall asleep, pack up my bag and I'd be out the door and home-free.

I'd be sneaking away in the night like the dog that I was. I wouldn't be taking any prisoners. If Tammi wanted to throw a leg over and come along for the ride, that would be fine by me.

If she didn't, there'd be no turning back for stragglers.

ELEVEN

**I KNEW WHAT** I had to do. It became a matter of getting it done. If I could manage to keep Kelly from asking questions, I wouldn't have a problem. If she became suspicious, well, I'd handle that when it came time.

—How did Tammi like the steak?

—Cooked to perfection, just the way she likes it.

—I'll bet. What else did she like?

What I didn't like was the bitter sound to her voice and the icy stare Kelly was handing out.

—Nothing. I'm here now, aren't I? And while I'm here, I have a question for you.

—What's that?

—What's the plan for the coke in the closet? Have you got a buyer?

—Why? Is the broke-ass biker going to make me an offer?

Her voice had a hard-edge to it. Tough. I wondered how tough she'd be when the shit hit the fan and cartel sicarios were busting down her door.

—Even if I was interested I wouldn't make any offers. Instead, I'd have disappeared down the road the first time I laid eyes on it sitting in your closet.

What the hell would I do with five keys of cartel coke? I had about as much of an idea as she did by the look of it.

—Whatever you say.

—More than likely you'd be sitting here empty-handed, trying to scream past a gun barrel stuffed down your throat by a cartel hit man. It wouldn't even be their best hit man. When he finally figured out you didn't know where the dope was, you'd end up with a bullet in the back of your head for the trouble you knew.

—Stop talking. You've said enough.

—What's the gun for? Are you trying to be the town toughie too?

—What the hell do you think it's for?

—If the dope doesn't get you killed, the gun will. Do you think those guys are amateurs, screwing around like you? A woman with a gun is mincemeat to a cartel SUV filled with killers. What the hell are you doing? Do you even know? Coke in the closet? What the hell is that about?

—Frank, let it go.

—It's not the five keys they care about so much. It's all about the message the missing five keys sends out. Nobody screws with their drugs. Ever. But besides that, you've got street value close to a couple of hundred-thousand dollars wasting away in your closet.

She shook her head.

—Enough. I'm going to bed. Are you coming?

—I'm going to take a shower.

—You'd better not be washing her stink off.

—You want to smell me first?

I dried off and showed up in the bedroom expecting cold shoulder and another argument. Instead, she pulled the sheet back to reveal a naked body and legs already spread.

—Come here, baby. Make me feel good.

I put Kelly to sleep the only way I knew how. I waited for her breathing to even out before climbing out of bed. I dressed and headed outside to walk my ride out to the street. I pushed it past Tammi's and down an alley towards the highway.

In the back of my head, I knew I shouldn't. Hell, I could buy new once I got a job and my hands on some money. And then I realized that could be a while. I went back to collect my clothes.

It didn't go well.

In the dark, the hard click of a hammer pulled back woke me out of my reverie for the open road, and I knew the muzzle was aimed at my back. I might not be so lucky getting my ass out of Kelly's place.

I froze. My brain went into overdrive, all of it useless.

I should have taken Hank's hint and stayed at the Palms. I should have stayed with Tammi and let her take her dress off. I should have looked the other way when I caught sight of Kelly's car bumping into the motel parking lot. I should have convinced myself her ass looked fat in those jeans with the flaps over the back pockets.

Like any of it would have made a difference.

It was too late now.

I only wanted one thing. I wanted to get my unlucky ass out of here alive and back on the road in one piece. I played it for sympathy. I was quaking in my boots.

—Are you going to shoot me in the back?

—What are you looking for?

—Only for what I brought to the picnic.

I should have been smart enough to leave it behind. What I had wasn't worth shit anyway.

—Throw your bag over here.

She rummaged through it and tossed it back.

—Get out.

I didn't waste any more time.

I don't know why I looked both ways before crossing the dead street in the dead town on the way to Tammi's. The SUV was parked in plain sight on the deserted street under a burned-out street lamp. Kelly's luck was about to run out in a hurry. No way did I want to be around for that.

I opened Tammi's door and walked into the darkened trailer. I couldn't see a thing. A hand reached out and pulled me close. Warm lips moved against my ear.

—Well?

She bathed me in body heat and warm breath. I could feel every inch of her.

—She pulled a gun. I didn't think I'd get out of there alive.

—And that surprised you?

—Yes. No. Not any more.

—Well?

Again with the well.

—You're not going to cut me any slack, are you?

—No.

—We barely know each other.

—Yes, but there's a plus to that.

—Which is?

—We didn't meet in a parking lot. We were actually introduced.

—True.

—I don't need you to babysit any drugs.

—Good. But Tammi, I'm busted flat and we're not even in Baton Rouge yet. I barely have enough money to get home.

—I cleaned out my stash. I have a little traveling money for us. Oh, and there's two more little details you need to know.

—Two?

—I threw in another dress.

—You were listening.

—And I was a dancer for a year before I moved back here.

So I was right after all.

—Come on. We have to get out of here. The back way. There's an SUV down the street and I'm thinking whoever is inside hasn't come to take the tour.

—I wonder if her ex gave her up.

—Whether it was him or someone else, Kelly is in for a world of hurt. Come on, we have to go.

Together we quick-stepped out the back and down the alley.

—Should we warn her?

—She was using me. I have no idea what she was doing with you. Maybe she was using you, too. If you want to go back, we'll go together, but you better know what you'll be in for. It won't be anything like you see in a movie.

The sound of an engine racing and the SUV crashing through Kelly's back yard put me in hurry-up mode. Even so, like passing a freeway wreck, I had to look. Light from the SUV's open doors outlined two shadows moving towards the house.

—You still want to go back?

One of the men disappeared into the trailer. In mere seconds, two gunshots boomed along the empty street. A double tap, the sound unrestrained by any houses in the deserted ghost town.

—Come on, we need to get this show on the road.

I huffed and puffed on the run to the bike. The Sol and tortillas down in Mexico had done a job.

—I'm getting too old for this, woman.

—You're not too old. You just need a little exercise to get you in shape to keep up.

—Yeah, well, I'm old enough to know you're going to be more trouble. Just a different kind, is all.

—In that case, I'm hoping you'll like being in trouble again.

—We'll see.

Tammi strapped on the beanie helmet hanging off of her backpack and climbed on behind me. I punched the button, nicked down to first and twisted the throttle. Her thighs tightened around me, gripping hard. This wasn't her first rodeo on a motorcycle.

I did a quick check for headlights in the rearview. There was nothing but a bright orange glow reflecting. Without slowing down I took a wide turn onto the 86 and headed north. I was on the run with a woman I barely knew.

—You want to go by the casino and tell them you quit?

—They'll figure it out eventually.

—Anywhere special you want to be?

—There's a little place up on the 62 that I danced at for a month or six weeks. It's in the middle of nowhere. We'd probably like it there for a while.

—Are you talking about the strip club that used to have the pretty good pizza restaurant out in front.

—That's the place. Used to?

—It's closed.

—In that case I know another place off the 215 in Colton. It's kind of nowhere if you like the 'burbs.

—Wait. We?

I had been listening, too. She leaned back against the bagger's trunk, settled in and wrapped her legs around me.

—Yes, Frank. We. You and me. I don't see anybody else around. Do you?

Trouble. Most times it's bad. Sometimes it's good. One way or another, it always seemed to find me, for better or worse. This time, I was thinking it was going to be for the better.

How could it not?

TWELVE

**ONLY A FEW** hours ago we were forced to listen to the sound of a hit-man's double tap when it boomed past the cheap tin walls of Kelly's trailer. Smart enough to know we might be next, Tammi and I were on the run and in a hurry to put some miles on the clock. I took us north, in a mad rush, perhaps too eager to put as many miles behind us as I could.

Better safe than sorry was all I could think.

We rolled into Banning, exhausted emotionally and physically from the constant yelling past the rushing air for most of the ride. Our next move relied on getting into the big city where we could lose ourselves in the bright lights and millions of people that populated El Lay.

Tammi committed to taking up the dance circuit again. It would be a means to quick cash. I wouldn't be the one to say no. I was flat broke and thus easily convinced.

I pulled off the 10 into the familiar Farmer's lot and shut down. After the long ride it would give her a chance to wash away the asphalt perfume. If she was going to hit the dance-club circuit in her search for work, a little food and a quick sprucing-up wouldn't hurt.

I shut down and waited for her to climb off. I purposely avoided mentioning anything about what we had witnessed in Bombay Shores.

—How long did you work at the place we're headed for?

I eased the heavy bike over on its kickstand.

—The El Diablo? A couple of months. It started to get a little weird towards the end so I moved on.

—Weird? How?

—Drugs. It started slow at first. The club owner was dealing out the back door. Things got worse when he became mixed up with a cartel. No one figured on that. From there it all went bad.

She took a breath and went on without looking at me.

—The bouncers let in anyone who tipped them. The customers were getting worse. Unruly and touching and thinking we'd all go home with them. The girls got tired of getting hit on constantly with no one to back us up. A lot left and never looked back.

High turnover for the dancers, and for good reason. Most of what she said sounded like strip-club par for the course, minus the drugs and cartel involvement. Still, working under those conditions had to be a major disadvantage to staying safe and getting paid.

—And you want to go back there to work. Do you think that's a good idea?

—I want to have a look at the place. I've been wondering who's left from the old days.

The old days? She was gone for six months. How old could a day be?

—If you're going to show up they're going to want to see the old Tammi. You want me to get your bag so you can pretty up?

—That's all right. I'll get it. Don't leave without me.

_Don't leave without her?_ Who the hell has she been hanging out with? I was starting to think there was more to this fast getaway of ours than met the eye.

The familiar clickety-clack sound of heels on hard tile floor perked up the ears of the few customers in the almost-empty diner. I caught myself looking around, wondering what the waitress with the sore feet looked like. Instead, my eyes ended up assaulted by Tammi, determinedly striding towards our table. She looked like she just stepped out of a spa makeover.

She tucked something that looked like a phone into a pocket on her backpack before slinging it over her shoulder. Long, bare legs looked good in high-heels. If her hips could move the way they did from the front, there was no telling what they were doing in back.

I knew a woman could whip up miracles with a comb, a brush and a little makeup, but she had transformed herself. No longer was she a disheveled, wind-blown woman riding bitch on the back of my motorcycle. With a face all made up and her lipstick-adorned lips, Tammi looked to be more than ready to take on the strip-club world.

In barely minutes, the woman had managed to transform herself into a wide-eyed, dreamy-looking, long-legged dancer. Her legs ran all the way up to her short jean skirt and beyond. I couldn't believe my eyes—or my good fortune.

She regarded me with a warm smile and a come-hither look. My kind of girl.

—How soon can I start stuffing bills into your panties?

—Honey, when I dance I don't wear panties.

That was good enough for me. I reached into a pocket, emptied it, and slapped the last of my cash on the table while Tammi made her way to the bike. I made sure to bring up the rear.

I wasn't disappointed.

The El Diablo didn't look so inviting on my way to the parking lot in back of the building. Illuminated by one of those powerful new street lights, the cracked brick exterior leaned at odd angles here and there. Peeling, faded paint revealed cheap wood-panel walls separated by brick pillars.

What was left of the neon blinked around unlit letters barely hanging on to the sign on the flat roof. The entire building looked to be in need of a major reno, and that was only the outside. If the inside held true to form, it would take a nice warm fire to fix all of its problems. It would be the best makeover the El Diablo could hope to get.

I rode through the back parking lot without stopping. The only illumination came from an weak old overhead in a far corner. Cracked glass on the ground beneath others meant they'd likely been shot out. In the dim light I could see the lot full of tricked-out motorcycles and half-tons. Plenty of cash parked out back.

I pulled around and stopped in front of the doors. Bouncers checked out the woman and the bike but didn't bother with me.

—Do you know them?

—None of them look familiar. Don't go far. I don't think I'm going to be long.

One of them approached and gave us stink-eye. Tammi climbed off, grabbed her backpack, and strode past him to the door. She said something I couldn't hear into the second man's ear. He pulled open the door and she disappeared into an explosion of music and flashing light. Minutes later she returned, shaking her head. Right away I knew she wouldn't be performing in this dump.

—The old manager is gone. This one looks even worse. He's drugged out and just plain ugly.

—Well then, where to, baby? We've got a full tank.

—There's another place I used to perform at up in Fontana. One of the girls told me the club was hiring.

—No problem. We're there.

Tammi climbed on and I punched the button and hit first gear. We snaked our way through the parking lot towards the street. The lights didn't do us any favors until we finally hit the 10 and there were none. I picked up the pace. We'd be somewhere else soon enough. I turned my head and Tammi bent hers to put an ear against my lips.

—Did you notice the guy standing beside that gray truck out back?

She shook her head.

—I couldn't get a real good look in the dark, but I thought he looked like Buddy.

I checked her reflection in the rearview. Nothing. No reaction at all.

—You're kidding, right? What would Buddy be doing there?

I had no idea.

—I wonder if he heard what happened to Kelly.

—I don't want to know. Do you?

—Not really. We cut it close to make it out of town with our lives. I don't want to stir the pot. I'm thinking Buddy would be a whole lick of trouble for both of us.

I had enough of Buddy and I only met him once when I cold-cocked him in Kelly's living room.

—The cops raided El Diablo about six months ago. The owners were dealing drugs. Some of the girls were selling. Four of them got lucky and went into rehab on account of it all.

—Were you close with any of them?

—No, I never ran with that crowd.

—That's a good thing. How did rehab go?

—I really don't know. I was never a part of it.

Did I just ask a trick question? Her response came quick enough. Maybe she was telling the truth.

If that was the case, why was I beginning to doubt her?

My eyes kept wandering to the rearview and it wasn't out of riding habit. I worried Buddy might be on to us after spotting after spotting a definite look-alike in the El Diablo parking lot. In the dark I couldn't be certain he'd picked up our tail, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep an eye out.

I changed speed. I split lanes. I weaved in and out of traffic, attempting to draw out a silver half-ton looking like the one I spotted in the El Diablo's parking lot. Sure, there would be a lot of them. This was L.A. Even so, I wanted to be cautious. If Buddy was out for revenge, I didn't want to give him the chance to get some.

It took a while before I caught a silver truck closing on us. The driver, whoever he was, worked slow, almost unnoticeable at first. I kept my speed even, waiting him out. Was it Buddy? I'd know soon enough if I stayed patient.

So there was something going on. I just didn't know what. I only knew it started after the visit to the strip club. I didn't know anyone there. The woman hanging onto to me did. I didn't need a map for that. I turned my head to Tammi one more time.

—Do you have any former El Diablo boyfriends that maybe recognized you?

There was still a chance it was a random truck. There had to be thousands on the road. She bent her head to me and talked into my ear.

—There's always guys who want to make a connection. None of them ever stalked me that I know about.

No doubt that was true. How many times had I taken a liking to a dancer with a nice smile and a quivering ass, only to forget about her when I left the club, never to return?

—Is there any reason why Buddy might want to make that connection with you? Or with us?

—I never knew Buddy all that well. He was into Kelly, but she didn't bring him around when they were together. They pretty much kept to themselves.

I wondered how much what she told me was true. I remembered how Kelly couldn't wait to introduce me to this one. I waited for her go on.

—They probably didn't want anyone around because of the drugs. I guess it's true what they say.

—What would that be?

I looked at her in the mirror, waiting.

—That it makes you paranoid.

She shifted on the seat behind me.

—I guess. I wouldn't know.

I checked the reflection in the mirror. She bit her lip and turned away, not wanting to look into my eyes.

—What are we going to do if it is Buddy?

I had the answer for that.

—Not a thing. We'll let him make the first move.

—I'm glad you're confident. I wouldn't know what to do.

I was confident, all right. Confident that something was going on that didn't include me. What the hell did I know about this woman with her legs wrapped around me riding bitch on the back of my motorcycle? Nada. Nothing. Well, that, and she looked outstanding in a t-shirt and a short skirt.

For all I knew, she could be packing another couple of keys in her backpack and I wouldn't be any the wiser.

Traffic on the 10 was busy and steady and that made it difficult to keep the truck in sight. It would appear and then disappear, falling behind cars and trucks. Whoever was driving knew what he was doing.

—Take the Riverside exit north. It'll be coming up on your right.

My passenger knew where she was going. That was a bonus I wasn't expecting from a small-town girl. What I didn't anticipate was the truck gaining on us, fast.

—Baby, put your feet on the pegs and hang on tight. That half-ton is about to go by on the left.

Tammi grabbed on and I twisted the wick to stay ahead while I made for the number four lane. I kept left in the lane and prepared to ride on. I checked the mirrors, and then turned to look over my shoulder. Terre was nothing but empty freeway and a lonely silver half-ton. It was still gaining.

If the driver was psychic—

—When he goes by, try to get a look at the driver or any markings on the truck.

In the mirror Tammi's reflection turned to look. Her arms hugged me hard. Her thighs tightened on my hips. She called out. Her voice became high-pitched and panicky.

—His window is down.

She screamed.

—He's coming towards us!

At the last minute I steered across the lane onto the exit ramp. The mirrors filled with an exploding blaze of orange light.

—Holy shit. Did you see what that was?

I didn't need to ask. I already knew.

—I think he threw a firebomb.

I made good on my escape from the freeway onto the exit too late for the truck driver to do anything about it. He roared past and stayed on the 10.

—What the hell was that about? Did you get a look at the driver?

Tammi's face was frozen in fear. She could only shake her head.

There was nothing right about this deal. What had I missed in the last couple of days? If that was Buddy, he had to have a reason for what he was doing. Given his connection to Kelly and the way he'd crashed into her living room, I'd say it was about missing drugs.

I knew I didn't have any.

THIRTEEN

**THE EL DIABLO** had turned out to be a dump. Now that we were at La Bonita, I wanted to know what I'd be walking into. I did a circuit and rode through the parking lot like I knew what I was doing. It was lit up like a mall lot. Many of the vehicles were high-end, but there was quite a collection of regular stuff, too. The mix seemed like it would be a good thing.

So far, La Bonita looked to be anything but a dump. The difference was night and day and I wasn't even inside yet. A huge, expensive-looking neon sign flashed up drinks and girls in a wild explosion of colors. There was even valet parking out front. I stopped and one of the bouncers gave me the sign to shut down.

In my experience it wouldn't be the first time bikers weren't welcome at a strip club. A loud squeal of recognition for the mountain of a man approaching was all it took for hell to break loose.

Tammi jumped off the back of my ride so fast I thought she was running away. She tripped, and the giant of a man caught her in his open arms. She flung her legs around him and screamed again as he carried her, dancing in circles, up the steps.

That left two of us standing around doing nothing.

—I'm Frank. The good-looking one wrestling with your friend is Tammi Dominga.

—Dominga? I've heard that name mentioned around here. You can call me Bull.

Bull was no midget either. He was almost as big as the one doing the dancing with Tammi in his arms. I tipped my head towards her.

—She's looking for work.

He looked across at them, too.

—What are the chances?

—I heard somebody say Dominga was a pretty popular dancer back more than a few months. I never saw her perform, but from what I heard I'd say the chances could be pretty good.

—Judging by the reception out here, I think you might be right.

I called out to the struggling couple making their way up the dance-club steps.

—Hey you two, are you going to bump crotches all night?

The giant deposited Tammi at the top of the stairs.

—Frank, this is Dawg. The guy beside you is Bull. They're the guys you need to know if you want your bike to stay put when you're not on it.

Bull stuck out his hand and I took it. He had a grip like a drill-rig roughneck. I let him see me wince. I was no pussy, but I figured the new guy might as well try to make some points.

I got the okay to leave the bike where it was and followed Tammi into the club. The manager recognized Tammi the minute she walked through the door into La Bonita. Already he was making his way to the door. It had to be the earpieces on the bouncers outside, but even so. He was on her like a dog on a fire hydrant, and I don't mean he was doing any pissing.

The man went to work immediately, machine-gunning questions. Where have you been? Who's the guy on the motorcycle? Is he your boyfriend? Husband? Are you living together? Is this a social call, or are you looking for work? That last was all business from what I could tell.

Before long, other dancers recognized Tammi. She ended up surrounded by a mob. In minutes it turned into old home week. The crowd of scantily-dressed women ignored the evil eyes coming from some of the paying customers. Their hard-earned cash didn't include down-time for the women who halted the lap dances and left the tables.

The girls didn't seem to mind. No one complained. It seemed to me that Tammi was everybody's favorite and she hadn't even started to work yet.

She paraded across the floor and the applause followed. Quite a few in the crowd recognized her. Even the manager stood back and beamed. She must have been a money-maker. I wondered if he had a thing for her at one time, because he looked pretty pleased that his prodigal dancer had returned.

Tammi's stroll past the tables ended and she came back with a huge grin pasted across her face.

—How do you feel about getting up and doing a set?

She shrugged, but she looked pleased.

—Vince, I've been riding bitch and wearing asphalt perfume out on the freeway. The last time I washed my face was hours ago. Do you really want me to go onstage looking like this?

—Girls, take her into the dressing room and get her set up.

—That sounds like a yes. Who's the DJ?

—It's still Ray.

I figured I might as well make myself useful.

—I'll get your backpack.

Startled, as though suddenly reminded I was still here, she turned and almost stumbled.

—No, I'll get it.

Tammi rushed off to retrieve the backpack before disappearing into the back of the club followed by several of the other dancers. The manager, Vince, stayed behind and we stood around sizing each other up. He asked a lot of questions, maybe even too many.

—Where are you from? Do you have a job? How long have you known Tammi?

He seemed to be a protective son of a bitch, but that was all right with me. If Tammi had been a moneymaker for the club in the past, who was I to put a damper on things? I turned myself into Mr. Nice Guy and answered as best I could.

—How did you two meet?

I left that one alone. The explanation would take too long. Besides, I figured Tammi could give him her own answer when she was ready. He must have thought I was all right, because it looked to me like he was beginning to relax.

—You ever do any bouncing?

That one came out of nowhere. I'm not a small guy, but after seeing Dawg and Bull out front I knew bouncing wasn't ever going to be my strong point in a place as busy as this. I figured he already knew that, and I sure wasn't about to bullshit the man.

—Not a bit. I'm not built for that. I'm more of a talker.

—Oh, you mean bullshitter. That's all right with me.

It was okay with me, too. If that was a test, I didn't mind taking it. He called my bluff.

—It's time La Bonita had a greeter at the front door and on the floor. I need someone to schmooze the crowd and give the money-spending customers that pay our salaries the recognition they deserve. Dawg and Bull do a good job for what they do, but they're a little rough around the edges. How are your edges?

—I can fit in. What I don't know I'll learn fast.

All this had to be because of Tammi, but hell, I didn't care. I needed a job too. Then Vince really put it to me.

—The club has an apartment on the ground floor. It's remodeled and soundproofed. One bedroom. Mostly furnished. There's access from a stairwell in the club and an outside door, but it's private. You interested?

I considered for about the length of a New York minute. It'd be like living next door to work, but I wasn't going to say no. How the hell could I refuse? I didn't even ask about the rent.

—All right, I'll take it. But on one condition.

Vince looked about ready to change his mind.

—What would that condition be?

I knew by his tone that the man wasn't used to listening to conditions. He had to be wondering who the hell would put one on a furnished one-bedroom in El Lay.

—Don't tell Tammi. I want to surprise her. I need some time to pick up a few things. You're going to have to keep her working for a while tonight.

I could tell by the smile he wouldn't say no to that. We shook hands and the deal was done.

—Wait here while I get the key. If you take the job you can start work tomorrow on the late afternoon shift. Come in early and I'll fill you in on what I need from you.

I took the key. I took the job, too.

FOURTEEN

**I UNLOCKED THE** door to the apartment and walked into a brand-new life. I had a new woman. I had a new job. I had a place for both of us to stay while we made a bit of money. What could go wrong with that? I gave myself an attaboy and mimed patting myself on the back for good measure.

I was only a few days out of Mexico and already it felt like a month with everything that had happened. El Lay was as good a place as any to hole up. I had a roof over my head, even if it was a strip-club roof.

What were the chances anyone would come looking for two people who didn't have anything to do with Kelly's drugs?

Eager to get the place ready, I rode off to pick up sheets and towels and a shower curtain. I managed to find some ribbon for a bow to hang on the door. I made the bed, dropped the towels in the bathroom and hung the curtain.

The grocery store came next, and then I washed the dishes and neated the place up. If I was going to be doing the mattress dance with Tammi, I figured on serenading her a bit by making it look like I was capable of contributing.

I had to admit, the reaction I witnessed when Tammi walked into the club took me by surprise. I knew she was a good-looking beauty with her long, shapely legs and slim, busty frame. The long dark hair worked to her advantage, too. What I didn't have an appreciation for just yet was her abilities on the dance floor and working the pole.

Many of the customers seemed to know her—at least as well as they could know a performer. They were happy she was about to be dancing again. It was like she had never left. Obviously she had been a popular dancer, and that meant she had been a money-maker for the club. There'd be no holding her back.

Even so, after our long day, food and sleep would probably be high on the list when she dragged her tired ass home. I went to work on a pot of spaghetti sauce. I slapped together some meatballs and threw them into the frying pan. If all that didn't earn me some points, there'd be no telling what would.

Satisfied with my labors, I cleaned up before strolling nonchalantly into the club. I planted myself at an empty table in a dim corner a long way from the stage. I kept my back to the wall where I liked it. I leaned back to watch the action in the club. In no time a beer appeared.

—That's from Vince.

I barely noticed her as I looked behind the bar and waved my thanks. The woman turned to walk away.

—Wait a minute.

She turned and I took a better look as she leaned over to be heard in the noisy club.

—There's no need to be reaching into your pocket. It's on the house.

My eyes roamed. It was an old habit. There was no telling what was underneath the loose clothes. She was cute, though. And there were possibilities lurking, I was sure of that. Better than that, she might be someone I could talk to about the club and its reputation.

—I'm reaching into my pocket to leave you a tip. Is that all right?

Judging by the look of surprise, I must have made a good first impression. You never know when you might need something. If all it took was a tip, I figured I was starting out in a pretty good place with this one.

She picked up the money and walked away, but not in an obvious way. She had a long, comfortable stride. Her hips didn't sway. The uniform pants covered up nice long legs by the look of it. I liked long legs. Hell, truth be known, I liked them short, too. Or any way I could get them.

The corner table gave me a good view of the huge floor and I went back to looking over the club. Three stages glowed under the lights. I couldn't count all the tables from where I sat.

The stand-up bar stretched a long way against a wall. There was no sense putting seats at a bar when you want the customers sitting at tables to buy their lap dances. Private rooms looked to be off to the rear of the club.

The waitress showed up to interrupt my thoughts with another beer.

—Girl, I'm a watcher, not a drinker.

—It's on the house again. No tip necessary.

—If you say so. But there is one thing I'd like to know.

—You're not going to ask me out, are you? We're not allowed to date the customers.

I looked her straight in the eye.

—What's your name?

—Danielle.

—Well now, Danielle, if I wasn't already attached to the most beautiful and talented woman in the place, you'd be my choice for that long blonde hair you have all tied up and out of sight. Those bright green eyes are downright pretty, too. Not only all that, but you're a real treat to watch when you walk away.

Even in the dim light of the bar it was evident she was turning pink. I looked her up and down. I always did the first time. Too bad about that loose top. The way she wore it, it might be hiding lots. Or not. I couldn't tell. By the time I finished, the poor girl was beet-red, but she hadn't left yet, either.

Yeah, I was being a bit of a pig. Call me out on it, but anyone in a strip club would be. Besides, the girls were accustomed to it. They were waiting tables in a strip club with naked women dancing on multiple stages.

—I don't know who you are or who you're here with, but you sure talk a good line, and I've heard my share in this place.

—In that case, I'll stop when I'm ahead.

She smiled. I smiled back. Another Mexican standoff. They seemed to be coming along on a regular basis. I figured working in a place like this she heard so many bad lines that one more wouldn't gain me a thing.

—If you get a minute, would you tell Dominga that there's a man over here who'd like to see her?

—Just so you know, the dancers aren't allowed to date customers either.

—Thanks. I'll remember that.

I took some side eye as Danielle walked away. She reappeared out of a side door off the stage with Tammi in tow. I wasn't so far away and the light wasn't so bad that I couldn't see the expression on Tammi's face. It's funny how a frown about erases everything else.

Danielle pointed in my direction and Tammi paraded across the floor. The whistling and clapping began all over. The see-through gown covered the assets, but it didn't hide much. She was naked beneath, and in an obvious way.

The tips would be good tonight.

Every step Tammi took had the room in a frenzy as she sashayed past the crowded tables. She stopped at a couple and it was obvious she recognized some of the customers just as they remembered her.

She was definitely all woman, and a good-looking one too—maybe too good-looking for her own good. She had everything in all the right places, and her movements emphasized it with every step.

The woman was obviously in her element as a dancer. Now I knew why she had been one of Vince's favorites. She had it all going on and she knew how to flaunt it. The crowd loved her for it.

—It took you long enough to get here. I started to think you were going to stop and pick up some cash on the way.

I wondered if she thought I could be jealous.

—I have to let people know I'm back. A stroll through the crowd is as good a way as any to do that.

She hugged me and sat down.

—How does it feel to be back in the business?

—I don't know if I missed it or not.

—Judging by the reactions you're getting from the customers, I'd say they missed you.

—Have you seen me dance?

—Not yet. I just got here a few minutes ago.

She looked puzzled.

—Where were you?

—I'm not talking. Its a surprise.

She changed tack mid-conversation. What woman couldn't?

—I see you met Danielle. She told me you were trying to sweet-talk her. Were you?

—She made a point of telling me she wasn't allowed to date customers.

—You didn't answer me. Did you ask her out?

—I sent her to get you, didn't I? I have a surprise for you. Do you want it now, or later.

—Now. I don't like to wait.

Raised eyebrows and an impatient, hard look convinced me.

—I talked to Vince. He was trying to figure us out, and what the hell you're doing with me. When he was done he must have been happy with what he heard.

—Why?

—He offered me a job.

—Did you take it?

—Yes.

Impatience turned to joy. Tammi squealed and jumped on my lap. It seemed like everyone in the place was looking our way. That included Danielle. I hoped she was just a little disappointed. I didn't care about the droolers.

Behind the bar Vince wagged a finger. So much for the no touching the dancers rule, but he was grinning.

—About that motel we were planning on staying at tonight.

—Is it full?

She didn't look so happy now. It had been a long day for both of us. Hearing what happened to her friend Kelly couldn't have been much fun either. We were both exhausted from the night's long ride to make good our escape.

—No. I didn't make a reservation.

—Frank, we need somewhere to stay until we find a place.

She was definitely annoyed. She narrowed eyes and crossed her arms as if to say so.

—I know. I already found us a place.

—You did? Where?

—Right here. Ground floor. You can check it out when you get off. If it's not good enough it will give us some time to look for something else.

Tammi squealed again and jumped on me one more time for good measure. Bull started making his way over. I figured he probably had to do something to show the customers that touching the dancers was a no-no, even if it was only me. House rules are house rules.

Bull arrived at the table and Tammi didn't waste a second. She climbed off of me and settled on him like he was her long lost brother. Or something. He blushed and grinned like a teenager on his first time in a strip club. Or maybe a candy store with naked women in it.

Behind the bar, Vince picked up the microphone.

—Gentlemen and ladies, management would like to announce La Bonita's newest dancer for your pleasure. Give Dominga a round of applause.

DJ Ray held up a hand and began blaring her play list over the speakers. Bull set Tammi down and she twirled her way through the crowded floor and past the packed tables. She climbed the steps to center stage, one at a time, turning to face the crowd each time. The screaming crowd definitely approved.

It wouldn't be long before I'd finally I'd get to see what everyone else seemed to already know. Danielle threaded her way through the tables in my direction as Tammi reached the top step.

—I hear that one is a real sweetheart. Do you want another beer?

She waved over the crowd. I only looked, unsure if she was waving at me or the packed tables.

—No thanks. It's time for me to be getting out of here.

I went to reach into my pocket again.

—I told you, no tipping.

Tammi glared in my direction. It wasn't me getting the stink-eye this time. I smiled up at Danielle. She didn't smile back this time.

—Tammi asked me to tell you she'll be bringing some of the girls over to meet you when the club closes.

—Will you be coming?

—No. I can't.

—I'd like it if you did.

She shook her head and mouthed a definite _No._

It was just as well. The last thing I needed was another woman in my life. One-on-one had always been the safest bet for me.

I never had to remember my lies if I never told any.

FIFTEEN

**I HAD NO** idea what kind of a deal would end up at the apartment following Tammi's invitation to the dancers. I made sure the place would be ready. I stacked plates and laid out cutlery for a full house. Satisfied my preparations would make a good impression, I stretched out on the sofa to wait it out.

My eyes closed, but I couldn't sleep as I kept considering the possible sighting of Buddy in El Diablo's dark parking lot. I rehashed it and decided Tammi was right when she said that the place was a hangout for druggies. Was Buddy selling, or buying?

Given what happened back in Bombay Shores I shouldn't have been surprised to see Buddy in the lot. But was it really Buddy? I had no reason to think it could be.

A sixth sense, maybe. Surely not more than that.

The firebomb tossed our way on the 10 definitely had my attention. At worst, it was an attempt at murder. At the least, it was a warning, and an obvious one, but there was a problem with both assumptions. I had no enemies that I knew about, especially in this part of the world. Who was it directed towards? I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't let it go.

Tammi was the only other person, and the obvious unknown in the equation. I needed to take a ride out to El Diablo—the sooner the better. I had to do it for my own peace of mind, even if I didn't learn anything new.

There was a problem with doing that. I had a job and somewhere I had to be. Unfortunately, the job Vince offered was going to have to wait. Trying to find out who was throwing gasoline bombs was more important.

At least, it was to me.

I wrestled with whether or not to tell Tammi. She was in good with Vince. Whether he'd cut me some slack because of her was another matter. I'd make a try at explaining what happened last night in person—that is, if Vince didn't fire my ass before I got started.

Finally, my brain stopped working and I dozed off.

Loud voices accompanied by peals of laughter and scantily-clad women crowding through the door announced the arrival of the crowd—and it was definitely a crowd. They were all here.

There was nothing shy about them, either. Most came fresh off the dance floor and in costume. Halter tops, g-strings, short-shorts and high-heels slithered through the door in single file. They were all packing bags like it was a sleepover.

What guy wouldn't pay a premium for eye candy like that?

—Where is he?

—Look at all that food.

—Is he taken?

—You better not let this one get away.

—Are you two just dating, or are you living-together partners?

—When you get tired of him, can I have him?

Tammi rolled her eyes in my direction in time to see me puff out my chest. She burst out laughing and I got the reaction I wanted. We knew I wouldn't be going anywhere with any of them.

Chairs shuffled. Women sat down. Conversation halted. _Oohs_ and _ahhs_ took over. Plates were loaded. Bread was passed around. Then came silence. I had never seen it happen before. The women stopped talking and started chewing all at once. I struggled to keep the plates filled. Bread turned out to be in short supply.

—Well, now I know how to satisfy the lot of you and keep you happy at the same time. That's got to be a first for any man.

—You'd better learn their names if you're going to let them take you home. And you can just put your eyes back in your head.

I didn't skip a beat.

—Don't be a spoil-sport. I only have eyes for you.

—Yeah, and I was born yesterday.

Hell, Tammi was by far the best-looking woman in the place. She had no worries there.

—Ladies, I have to admit I've never seen so many good-looking woman-parts all together in one tiny space.

Laughter erupted. High fives made their way around the table.

—Now here comes the house rules.

A confused look spread across the faces of the women, including Tammi's.

—I think by now you know you're all welcome here, any time, day or night. However, I'm a man, and as past experience and we all know, even a man with good intentions can be sorely tempted.

—Yeah baby, we know it, too. Earth men are easy.

More high-fiving and laughter broke out around the table.

—Like I said, any time, day or night. There's a bedroom down the hall. If you don't change in the club before you come over, you're going to have to change in there. Keep it neat and stay dressed when you're here.

The women turned to Tammi. There were more shocked looks than I could count.

—Where the hell did you find this guy? He's too good to be true and we all know it.

Tammi's arm snaked around me.

—He's all mine. Don't any of you forget it.

—All right, ladies. Who wants more garlic bread?

They ignored me. I didn't mind. I was grinning like a man in a sunbeam filled with women.

—Garlic bread? Man, get us some rope, a tarp and a car with an empty trunk. We need somewhere to put Tammi while the rest of us take turns bringing you home.

The party was over. The apartment was empty. We were alone and even more exhausted. I turned out the light.

—No. Leave it on. Come over here. I want you to see something, and then I want to see something.

Tammi reached back to unhook her top and tossed it on the floor. Okay, so maybe I wasn't so tired after all. Her breasts sure as hell didn't move an inch. A forearm strategically placed covered just enough. I almost ruptured my eyes trying to get a better look. Then she dropped her arm and let me have both barrels in a full frontal.

—You like?

—Oh yeah. And you know it.

—I can tell. Now get over here. I've waited long enough to get a look at what that woman couldn't stop talking about.

Of course I knew which woman she meant. She unzipped me and dipped her hand in to check. She undid my belt and yanked my pants down. I stepped out of them and turned to face her.

—Ohhh. Look at that—and it's only half-way there.

She circled me with her hand and looked up. Her mouth opened wide and she was on me, fast, all at once. It felt like she was trying to swallow me whole. It took her more than a while to come up for air.

—I need to breathe.

—As long as you're happy.

—I'm happy right now with what I have in my hand. I'm pretty sure I'll be even happier in a few minutes.

She hung on and pulled me towards the bedroom. The willing woman in bed with me wasn't the only thing on my mind. I had some fast talking to do, now or never.

—I have something I need to do tomorrow. You're going to have to play nice with Vince. If I'm lucky he'll still have a job for me when I get back.

She withdrew her head.

—When you get back? From where? What's up?

She looked down at me and giggled.

—Besides this?

—I'm going to ride over to the Diablo to check it out.

—What? Why? Why would you do that? You saw what it was like last night. It's a dump. It always has been.

If it was always such a dump, why had she been dancing there?

—I need to know if that was Buddy hanging out in the parking lot.

She didn't look so happy all of a sudden.

—But why? Are you planning on making him your new best friend?

—I want to know if it was Buddy that threw the firebomb.

—Just because he might be there doesn't mean he was the one.

That was true. I still needed to know.

—If it wasn't Buddy, I want to at least try to find out who it was and why he was trying to set you on fire.

Tammi's eyes grew bigger. She threw the sheet off and jumped out of bed.

—Me? You were on the bike too.

She began pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. She halted all of a sudden. A thoughtful look consumed her face.

—Yes, but I've thought and re-thought the whole episode. I don't know anyone that would want to set me on fire—outside of Buddy, that is.

She crossed her arms over her breasts.

—He must have taken it personal when I whacked him upside the head after he scared the shit out of me by breaking into Kelly's.

—Don't think so much. I don't want you at El Diablo, Frank. You saw it last night. It's dangerous.

—I saw the parking lot. I want to have a look inside. Maybe Buddy has a new place to hang out.

—That's enough talking about Buddy in this bed.

Tammi climbed in and stretched the length of her long, firm body against mine. A hand reached for me.

—I haven't had enough of this. Can I have more?

—You can have as much as you want.

Changing the subject wasn't going to change my mind, no matter how hard she tried.

She tried very hard.

SIXTEEN

**I KNOCKED ON** Vince's open door. Respect worked for me, especially when I had to ask if I could show up late on my first official day of work. He waved me in and I figured it was fifty-fifty on whether he'd fire my ass.

—You must be anxious to get started. I like that.

—Yes, I am anxious to get started. Before I do, I have something I need to tell you. When I'm finished I'm going to ask for a favor.

His mouth turned down in a frown. Screw it. What I had to do was important—at least, in my life it was important.

—Start talking.

The man didn't waste time.

—I know you like Tammi. The reception she got from you and the dancers made that obvious. Hell, even the bouncers are crazy about her. The customers even more. That's why I have to tell you about what happened on our ride over here last night.

Vince looked up from his pile of receipts. Now that I had his attention I didn't want to give him a chance to ask questions.

—Someone in a silver half-ton threw a Molotov cocktail at us. He missed, obviously. I need to find out who it was and why he did it.

—You're not going to bring trouble here, are you, Frank? I don't want any trouble.

I didn't want to ruin what had turned into a good thing, either. I came in wondering how much I should be telling Vince. Now I knew. He'd get the basics.

—To be honest, I don't know anyone who hates me enough to want to set me on fire. Tammi, on the other hand, just might, but I don't know that for sure. I need to find out who's crazy enough to be throwing fireballs around.

—I can't have my best moneymaker in trouble. Find out what's up. I already told the staff about you. I'll make excuses if you don't get back in time to start your shift. You'll be on the clock, but I'm going to want to get paid back.

I offered my hand.

—We've got a deal.

No way did Tammi want me visiting El Diablo. She made that plain during our talk between the sheets. After last night's performance—both onstage and off—it was better to leave her in bed. She knew exactly how to cajole me into getting her way.

I pulled a Bombay Shores and pushed my bagger into the street before starting it. It would keep the noisy exhaust from waking her.

I didn't hold out a lot of hope after what I witnessed in El Diablo's parking lot last night. Even if the bikers knew the man, no one would be willing to tell a stranger anything about Buddy. Riding in on a motorcycle wasn't any guarantee. I was pretty sure they'd see me as just another independent, loyal to no one.

As I suspected, in the fresh light of day, El Diablo turned out to be an even bigger dump. A bonfire would be the best this place could hope for if anyone ever decided renovations were in order. Given the crowd, I don't think present management would be looking to rebuild—insurance payout or not.

It was only eleven in the morning, but already ear-shattering music spilled out of the open back door. The lot was half-filled with motorcycles. They weren't here this early for a breakfast burrito. Smoke was in the air—probably in the veins too, but then that wouldn't be smoke. This place was heaven if you were looking to buy. Why it hadn't been shut down was anyone's guess.

Street-side, the place looked deserted. No surprise there, given what was going on out back. I wondered how long it had been since someone walked in through the front door. I pushed it open and I had my answer. The music almost skipped a beat. My eyes located the raggedy-ass DJ and it looked as though he was about to announce an incoming.

Or maybe it was my imagination. I was a little jumpy.

Then everything went back to normal—whatever normal there was in a place that reeked of stale air and even staler beer—and I knew it wasn't my imagination.

What was left of worn-out, dirty carpet covered an uneven floor. Beer was splattered over walls and stage. Here and there it looked to be mixed with blood. Damn, but did they never hose the place down?

The glass on the stage's filthy shower stall was so cloudy I could barely see through it. I doubted there would be a dancer fool enough to perform in that thing. She'd be able to keep her clothes on and no one would know the difference.

A waitress on her way to a table circled around with an expectant look. I ordered a beer—hold the glass. The waitress didn't blink. She picked one off the tray and slammed it on the table in front of me.

—Cash only. No tab.

—I can live with that.

I let her see her tip. She made to reach for it but wasn't quick enough when I held on to it. I took a chance.

—I'm looking for someone. An old friend. Name's Buddy. He drives a silver half-ton, maybe with a dent in the passenger door. You see him around lately?

Biker women were notoriously silent to outsiders about their men—the ones they belonged to, and the ones they knew. I slipped the five on the table and told her she owned it. She picked it up and almost ran in the direction of the bartender. So much for trying to be friendly.

Her lips barely moved as she mumbled something I couldn't hear. He looked my way to size me up and I must have passed the test. I took my beer with me. In this place it wouldn't last long sitting all by itself on an empty table.

—You the one looking for a guy?

—Yes.

—Then you'd know his name.

Shit. Buddy's name. Had I actually been stupid enough to say I was looking for Buddy? Now I knew for sure I was on edge. What did Kelly tell me when I had him down on the floor?

—Yeah.

My brain went into overdrive.

—Grant. His name is Grant.

If he was smart enough to ask for a last name I'd be out of here so fast my head wouldn't have time to spin. When he didn't I figured he probably didn't know it either.

—He was here early last night. Then he high-tailed it out the door so fast he didn't remember to pay his bill.

—You know where he lives?

—Not a chance. He comes and goes. Where he goes I don't care.

I slapped a twenty on the bar.

—Maybe this will take care of his bill.

Yeah, and that twenty would end up in the bartender's back pocket so fast a magician couldn't spot the move.

—Who's looking?

—Tell him it was Kelly's friend from Bombay Shores.

That would get Buddy's attention. Now he'd know I was on to him—if he was the one who served up last night's fiery cocktail. If he wasn't, I was out of luck. The bartender digested the twenty. It was time to ask about Tammi.

—When do the dancers come on?

He bobbed his head towards the stage.

—One is due right about now.

—Does Tammi still dance here?

—Tammi?

—Yeah. You might know her by Dominga.

—Dominga. Yeah, I knew one by that name. A while ago now. She was trouble. Big trouble.

I laid another twenty on the bar. He made for it like a rabbit on a tear towards a vegetable patch.

—How so?

The twenty disappeared just like the last one.

—She got mixed up with a bunch of hard-cores out of Sinaloa on the Mexican mainland. She ended up almost getting a bunch of people killed for her trouble.

SEVENTEEN

**I ALMOST WISHED** I hadn't done the ride out to El Diablo to check up on the story Tammi was handing me. I didn't want to believe she told me a pack of lies concerning her past. I found out the hard way why she didn't want me checking up on her. She knew the questions I had about Buddy would lead to questions about her. She also knew I wouldn't be liking the answers.

It was too late to turn back now. I had to keep digging for my own peace of mind.

I needed time to digest everything. The time to do it was on the ride back to La Bonita, before I became distracted by Tammi and the business of the club. I stopped at a light and spied an old-style diner. It would be just what I needed—a place to pause and reflect over apple pie and ice cream. If the pie was good I might make it a regular stop for more of the same.

I burned a u-turn and backed in out front. The door tripped a tin bell hanging over the frame. I picked a stool at the far end of the counter with a view out the window reflected in the mirror. If someone from the club told Buddy I was asking questions, I could keep an eye out by watching my back. I wasn't eager to be on the receiving end of another gasoline bomb, even if it missed.

My brain was in overdrive at what I learned at El Diablo. Barely overnight, Tammi stopped being the innocent bystander. Now, it seemed like she might be a willing participant in Kelly's demise. I was left wondering how Buddy fit into the picture.

I was fairly confident I had the first part. Kelly and Tammi crossed paths with someone and cheated them out of cartel coke—except when the cheating was done they probably didn't know who it belonged to. Had they been smart, the scorpion on the package would have said it all.

But then who was their victim?

Buddy broke into Kelly's place expecting it to be empty. Instead, I was there to scuttle his attempt to retrieve the missing goods. Whoever it was ordered him to track down the drugs couldn't have been happy when he learned Buddy's search and retrieval didn't go so good.

Buddy probably dealt his last hand and spilled his guts about Kelly holding the drugs. When the enforcement sicarios showed up to remedy Buddy's lapse, he would have ended up off the hook for the missing coca the sicarios found in Kelly's closet.

Or maybe Tammi gave up the information to save her own ass. Depending on how well she could lie, cheat and steal, selling out Kelly and implicating Buddy would keep her in the clear—for a while, at least.

That's where I came in as Tammi's flavor of the day. She saw an opportunity to get out of a ghost town and disappear. The fact that I was a stranger would make it harder for anyone to track her down. There was one problem with that. She went straight back to her old stomping ground using her real name.

How smart was that?

Unless she could pull someone else into her scam to take the heat off, she'd soon be dead meat too. I was beginning to wonder if it was my turn in the hot seat.

There was one more thing I needed to figure out. I needed to know if Tammi was packing any drugs.

So much for that fresh start I thought I deserved. Deep as I was into the well of misery I created for myself, I didn't hear the woman come up behind me. I was thinking too hard and feeling too sorry for myself.

—That's a nice ride you have out there. Mind if I take a look?

I didn't bother to turn around.

—Sure. Go ahead.

The doorbell rattled, and then it rattled again a couple of minutes later. Maybe now I'd get some service.

—I hope you don't mind. I threw a leg over to see what it felt like.

I was in a hateful mood. I had no patience for some wannabe biker chick slinging hash in a diner.

—I hope you're not wearing a short skirt. I don't want to have to wipe it down before I climb on.

My chin almost smacked against my chest as the follow-through from the backhander did its job. The woman hit the back of my head so hard it almost knocked me off the stool. I tried rubbing my head but it didn't do any good. She had to have plenty of practice with a move like that.

—That's no way to talk to a lady. Didn't anyone ever teach you any manners? Or have you been on the road so long that any you ever had were blown away in the wind?

My head rang like a church bell on Sunday morning. With the waterworks streaming out of both eyes I could barely see. By the time I got it together and took a better look, the woman's hands were firmly on her hips and her feet were spread like a boxer's. It looked like she was trying to make up her mind whether I deserved another one for good measure.

I held up my hands in mock surrender and swiveled on the barstool to face my attacker. Her thigh blocked mine and kept me facing the counter. I had to resort to the mirror for a look at my attacker.

Long blonde hung past her shoulders. Bright green eyes met mine in the mirror.

—Danielle! Holy shit, woman. You pack a wallop. I'm sorry.

—Sorry doesn't cut it, jackass. This isn't a tacky strip joint and I'm not some piece of trash you just met. If you're expecting to get some service after that degrading little comment, you'd better shape up. If not, get the hell out.

She waved a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the door. The cook stuck his head out of the pass-through window. He glared in my direction. He didn't look pleased. He definitely wasn't happy to have his only waitress annoyed by a customer.

—Is everything all right out there, Dani?

—It's all good so far. I think I've got him cowed and backpedaling towards the door.

—In that case, after you chase the son of a bitch out, lock it behind him so he can't use the excuse of wanting to pay his bill to get back in.

Danielle went back to glaring at me.

—Well? I'm still waiting.

—You're not going to cut me any slack, are you?

—Not one bit. You heard the man.

Her eyes moved to the cook.

—What's it going to be?

By now the cook had changed position and was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. He held a huge knife clutched in one hand. It pointed at the ceiling. Arms were crossed over his barrel of a chest, but the knife was ready to go clutched in his outside hand.

—If you want me to leave and never come back, I can do that. Just say so. But you should know that I just got hold of some information that turned my world upside down. I'm not making excuses, and if I was I wouldn't expect sympathy anyway. I'm master of my own demise.

Christ, now I was using feeling sorry for myself to excuse my bad manners.

—That's a good start, but you're not done yet.

—When will I be done?

—I'll let you know.

No quitter, this one. I shifted my eyes, looking for the cook. He had disappeared into the kitchen, taking the knife with him. I figured he was only out of sight enough to be listening.

—I've got a lot of thinking to do between now and when I get back to La Bonita. I was doing some of it while I was staring at the wall behind the counter. I wasn't paying attention to anything but my own stupidity. You handed me my ass on a platter. I'm not used to that.

Maybe it would work. I could try, at least.

—I can tell. Even so, you need to know it takes a lot more than talk to make this woman forgive. And just so you know, I never forget.

I needed to start kissing some serious ass or I'd be flung out the door in about another five seconds.

—Can we have a do-over?

If that was the best I could come up with, I figured the door just got about half-way closer. I could probably make it to the bike before she started flinging dishes at me.

—Is that what you want?

I figured I better not think about it for too long.

—Yes.

—Good. I'm Danielle. We crossed paths in the bar, remember? You might have forgotten my name when all those women ended up in your apartment last night.

She wouldn't be about letting up. At least she stuck out her hand and smiled. I shook it and smiled back.

—Are we even?

—Not yet, but now I'll let you start to work on it.

I'd come too close with this one. She wasn't about cutting me any slack.

—I'll have some of that apple pie I spied by the register. A root beer float to go along with it would really take the edge off.

—You're not used to begging, are you?

I couldn't help it. I gave her a full-face grin.

—No, and I'm not going to start now, even for you.

—Good to know.

She slid a huge slice of pie covered in ice cream down the counter. It came to a halt in front of me. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was trying to kiss up, and that's what I told her. Now it was her turn to grin.

—I can't hold a grudge. And you look like you need some space. You'll get it for the time it takes to finish that pie.

I devoured it as fast as I could. I wanted to get the hell out before the woman crawled up behind me and stuck a knife in my back. At the register I put a hand in my pocket to dig out some cash.

—There you go, putting your hand in your pocket again. Don't bother. It's on me. Even the shoulder.

—Well thanks. I'll remember that.

—You'd better. When I need payback, I'll let you know. You look like you're not in a hurry to be anywhere and I've got a break coming up. Let's take a walk.

She turned to yell at the cook in back.

—Eddy, I'm going on my break. Look after the place for me, all right?

It became plain that Eddy had been listening all along.

—Yeah. No. Spinning that one a tale of woe doesn't look like it's going to get you a bigger tip.

—A bigger tip? It wouldn't take much to beat nothing.

—All right, you two. Enough picking on me.

—Come on, Frank. It's a nice day. I don't want to waste my break in here.

—You remembered my name.

—Your friend told me all about you. How d'you like them apples? One more thing. I don't want anyone at the club knowing I wait tables here. This place is my secret. I guess it's ours now—if you don't burn me, that is.

—You can trust me. You want to go for a short ride?

—No thanks. I don't ride bitch.

I'd been suitably chastised.

—Well then. Let's walk.

Danielle led us into an alley between tidy, fenced back yards and old, wooden garages.

—I like working in that little diner. I get along with Eddy. He treats me like a daughter. I like that, too. The tips aren't great but the customers are.

—They always are in a neighborhood like this.

—I live not far from here. It's an easy walk back and forth.

—It's good to have a place to call home. I've been on the road for so long I pretty much forgot what it's like.

—I've got a boyfriend, Frank.

That came from out of the blue. Maybe she could read me like a book after all.

—I've already got more on my plate than I can handle right now. Just because I know where you hide out doesn't mean I'll be back.

—That's up to you. Break time is over. You want me to wipe down your seat?

Damn. This woman was something else.

—The reason I've been walking behind you is so I can look without you knowing about it.

—Too late. I know.

—Then you already know you have great legs.

She turned to look at me. Her face glowed red.

—I work the early shift. If you want conversation, come back whenever you want. If you're looking for anything more than that, I know you've already got it waiting for you at the club and at home.

I stopped at the bottom of the steps.

—Do you mind if I watch you from down here?

Danielle reached the top and grinned.

—You just did. I would have been disappointed if your back was to me when I turned to look.

She didn't seem to mind flirting, either.

EIGHTEEN

**I WAS FORCED** to lane-split and weave in and out of heavy traffic to make up lost time on the return to La Bonita. It wasn't a relaxing ride. My mind wasn't on riding. It was on what I leaned from the El Diablo's bartender. Tammi had lied to me, and we were about to have a confrontation.

I arrived only to discover the apartment empty. It was probably for the better. I didn't want to face Tammi just yet. Relieved, I stopped by the office to let Vince know I was back.

—Did you find out what you needed to know?

—I think so. But I didn't knock on your door to bother you with that. I wanted to touch base so you could clue me in on what you want. It's got to be more than schmoozing customers.

He settled back in his chair.

—We have a few different crowds here—lunchtime, afternooners and night-time. That's all during the week. Weekends are another matter.

I didn't say anything.

—The noon crowd—nooners, I like to call them—come in to eat and gawk, usually starting around 11:30. That crowd will last until 1:30 or 2:00 at the latest, depending on when they get their lunch hour. Most of them have to get back to work eventually. There's nothing we can do about that.

I wasn't unfamiliar with the workings of a strip club. I'd spent time whiling away hours and money in plenty of them.

—I know that was always the case with me.

—The late afternoons belong to the working man. We'd like them to stay later.

—So basically you want me to feed the customers bullshit to keep them here longer. You want them reaching into the cash machine to spend it on lap dances and booze.

—Pretty much. Just don't lock the doors or firebomb the place to keep them inside.

He looked up at me, studying. I couldn't tell if he was making a joke.

—Damn, Vince, don't even think that. I've about had enough for one day at least.

He unlocked a desk drawer and reached into it. He withdrew a wad of cash and placed it in an envelope. He didn't bother counting or looking at it before handing it to me.

—Here's five hundred. Take some time to pick up a jacket and some shirts. Jeans are all right as long as they aren't greasy. Yes, you're a biker. Go figure. Get some shoes, too. I don't want you wandering around in sneakers or boots.

—No problem. Thanks for the advance. Have you seen Tammi today?

—No. Her shift doesn't start until nine. I don't keep track of the women beyond that.

I considered myself told. I patted the five in my pocket and headed out.

One look at the new duds and the girls began flinging plenty of good-natured barbs in my direction. I'd blown all of Vince's cash on clothes. Word had spread about last night's food festival, too. Maybe my house rules didn't go unnoticed either.

Even DJ Ray got in on the act. Hell, the bouncers were in on it. With the ribbing coming from all sides, I held up my hands in surrender and found somewhere else to be.

I asked around for Tammi, but no one had seen her. No big deal. I wasn't her keeper. She was probably off chewing the fat with some of the girls she knew. I kept an eye open for Danielle, too, but I didn't ask questions. I figured she worked a later shift. That, and I didn't want anyone knowing any secrets.

Hers, or mine.

I wandered outside in the light of day, taking a better look around the grounds of La Bonita. It was in a hell of a lot better shape than what I witnessed at El Diablo. On the inside, new carpet covered the floor. The walls were clean and fresh-painted. Even the bar had a new top. Vince must have had the apartment done at the same time.

I wandered into the back and took a look at the private rooms. Low lighting and comfortable chairs dominated. I moved on to the restrooms. I knocked first, then called out. Nobody. Vince caught me backing out.

—From what I've seen so far, you're doing better than the last guy. I had to fire his ass.

—Fired? What for?

—That bastard was useless. He pissed off all the girls, one at a time. I caught him stuffing coke up his nose with one of the performers in the washroom. That was the end of both of them.

—I'm not liking what I hear about that. I'll keep my eyes open.

No drugs. That was good. Nothing would tear a place apart faster. It drew the worst and then some from what I could tell from my visit to the Diablo. I had no experience beyond that—at least that I would admit to.

It was late afternoon by the time I was satisfied with my look-see of the club. Tammi still hadn't showed.

Where the hell was that woman?

Tammi checked her buzzing phone. _Unknown number_ showed on the screen. She answered anyway. She listened for a couple of seconds before her foot started its nervous tapping. It lasted as long as the call and she was glad she picked up. El Diablo's bartender turned out to be worth the listen.

She clomped around the apartment, angry, frustrated that Frank hadn't listened to her. She'd have to do something to ease the man's suspicions.

She dug out a thin white tee and a short skirt from her backpack. She tossed her bra and pulled the shirt on. She slipped a hand beneath it and squeezed a nipple while checking out her reflection in a mirror. Yes, it would definitely work. She reached down for her g-string and pulled it off to join the bra on the floor.

The apartment door opened and banged against the wall. He was here. She squeezed herself again, ran her hand under her skirt before dashing into the living room. She sat down and parted her legs to let him have a look. What the hell, he deserved it.

Startled, Tammi gasped and stood up when she caught sight of the man in her kitchen.

—What are you doing here? You know he can walk in any second.

—I heard he was out at El Diablo asking questions.

—I already know. The bartender at the club called to tell me.

Fortunately, she had stopped on the way to Fontana to let the man know she was back in town.

—What are we going to do? If Frank finds out about us, we're in deep shit.

Already Grant was looking panicked and antsy. She quickly came to the conclusion that she would have to exert more control over him.

—It's you I'm worried about.

She remembered how the man had checked out her breasts when she let him have a look back in Bombay Shores.

—He doesn't have a clue. Just because he was asking questions doesn't mean he'll be able to put it together.

She had to be right. Everything depended on Frank's continuing ignorance of what she was really doing.

—You'd better be right about that. I don't want to have to deal with him after what he did to Kelly.

—Come over here.

—Why?

—I'll show you when you get here.

He was hard just from looking at her. That's what she liked about him. She ran a hand up the front of Grant's jeans and unbuckled his belt.

—What's this?

—That's what you get when you sit with your legs spread.

—Then I'll do it more often. Let me finish you.

She didn't give him time to refuse. She took him in her mouth and went to work. Grant grunted and started to come almost immediately. He allowed her to finish him before he pushed her away and pulled up his pants.

—Next time I want something else.

She knew exactly what he wanted. She'd been putting him off for weeks.

—I can't have you running out of the apartment when I'm trying to get Frank to forget about what he learned at El Diablo. He could see you.

—So that's why you're so agreeable.

If it took the promise of another blow job to get him to help her, it was a small price to pay.

—Get out right now. He could show up any minute. And don't forget, you're coming back later.

She licked her lips.

—We have a job to do.

She lifted her shirt and aimed her breasts at him.

—Double duty for you.

NINETEEN

**TAMMI HOISTED THE** heavy backpack and hauled it into the living room. The g-strings and tops and dresses she was supposed to have packed back in Bombay shores were missing. She congratulated herself on being a good liar and for making up a story on the spur of the moment.

She reached into the backpack and pulled out the five keys of plastic-wrapped coke. Who would have known just a short time ago that she was broke and on her last legs? The bag would put her back in the money again. The ten pounds slipped from her hands and slammed hard on the table.

Frank turned out to be a typical gullible accomplice. All she had to do was let him get a look at her in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wind him up and she owned him. Buddy turned out to be the same way even when he was sleeping with Kelly. Men. They were all the same.

Kelly had been right, though. Frank was well-hung and dumb. That girl was spoiled rotten by what Frank had dangling between his legs. She was looking forward to having her turn to be spoiled.

As much as she wanted Frank, as needy as she was, she had things to do. She tried putting him out of her thoughts, but it was hard. She smiled at the thought.

Tammi dug in the backpack for the scale. She opened the package and scooped powder onto the coffee table for measuring. She went to work doing the same thing on the dining room table with a second scale. She covered the scale with paper, poured a measured amount onto it, and dumped the measure into a plastic bag.

Buddy stormed in, letting the door slam behind him. He halted suddenly at the sight of her bent over the table. She caught his eyes roaming. He stroked a bare thigh. Tammi shifted away from his hand and continued pouring powder from the scale into plastic bags.

—It's about time you got here.

—You're getting fast at this, partner.

—We better be. I don't want Frank stumbling in from his shift. He'll go ape-shit if he sees you.

When Buddy didn't say anything, she debated whether she should tell him the truth about how Kelly met her end in Bombay Shores at the hands of the cartel sicarios. She decided against it. What the hell, it would keep Buddy afraid of Frank for a while, at least. It would allow her another measure of control over him, too.

—Just don't forget how he left Kelly. He'll take it out on both of us.

She finished with her part of the cut. All that remained was the residue left on the table. She wrapped the coke and returned it to the backpack.

Kelly's death wasn't the only ace she held in her game with Buddy. There was one more thing she could use to keep him in line, something else he wanted so badly she knew he could taste it.

—Buddy.

He ignored her. He was busy filling plastic bags.

—What? I'm busy.

Tammi bent over the kitchen table. She pulled her dress up over her hips and aimed the part of her she knew he wanted more than anything in his direction.

—Buddy!

He straightened and caught sight of what she was offering.

—Christ.

She pushed at her thong and it drifted past her thighs. She stepped out of it and spread her legs. She reached between them and rubbed.

Buddy didn't want to give her time to change her mind again. He jumped the coffee table and leaned over her, pressing his hips urgently to hers. He made a grab for her top and yanked it down. His hands filled with firm, warm breasts. He pushed his way deep into her center. There was no resistance.

—If Frank walks in now we're both dead, you bitch.

—Then hurry up and get it over with.

Tammi's elbows collapsed as Buddy's weight forced her down onto the table. She slipped into the coke leftovers. It smeared over her breasts. She allowed him to finish before forcing him down into the chair. She straddled him, making sure her breasts were at eye level.

White powder covered them. Buddy licked, greedy for a taste of both. An erect nipple filled his mouth.

—Damn you woman. You're going to be the death of me yet.

—Only if Frank finds out we knew each other back in Bombay Shores. He wouldn't be happy to learn he's been running with a woman who split two ten-key parcels with his girl Kelly.

—I don't think he was dumb enough to think Kelly was his girl.

—True. He was just holed up between her legs waiting out his bike parts.

Men. Just like this one, they only wanted one thing.

—Yeah, and the way you spread your legs for him makes me think you like him more than a little.

—He got me out of that dump I was living in, didn't he? I have to give him some credit for that. And don't you forget who was just between these legs, you jerk.

—That was nice and all, but I'd like to get between them from the front of you, not the back.

—You'll have to take a number for that. Frank is number one right now.

—Right now? Does that mean I'll get a shot?

—Look between my legs. You just had your shot. Don't get greedy.

—You know what? You've got a funny way of being faithful to Frank.

She reached into the backpack and rubbed her hand in the coke. She got on her knees and wrapped her hand around Buddy. He was nowhere near as big as Frank, but damn if he didn't taste pretty good with coke all over him. She licked her lips. Buddy grunted. She sucked and he was on his way.

—Shit. That was too fast.

He was quick in her mouth. She liked that.

—Not for me. Now get the hell out. You got what you came for, and you came for what you got. Twice. I have to get back to work or there'll be hell to pay.

—If he finds out about us there'll be hell to pay all right. He'll kill both of us.

With Buddy scared shitless of Frank, she had to figure out a way to unload Buddy and get Frank to take her farther north. It would be where the real money was. Then it came to her.

—Wait a minute.

Buddy was pulling up his pants.

—Not so fast. Take them off.

Tammi got down on the floor on her back, legs spread, arms reaching.

—I changed my mind.

Men were all alike. His mouth was open. He was practically drooling. His pants were already around his ankles. This would be easier than she thought.

She reached down to pull him against her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed. He could barely move. She felt the hardness against her belly. He was struggling, squirming. She almost gave in. She wanted it too. Then she remembered why she was on her back on the floor.

—You're going to firebomb the club tonight.

She was proud of herself for having come up with that idea.

—What?

Buddy's needy squirming halted instantly.

—You heard me. You're going to firebomb the club.

He struggled to push off of her.

—How the hell am I going to do that? Dawg and Bull are out there all night. The lineup is half a block long.

She reached between her legs. She brought her hand up and rubbed it against the man's face. He sucked and licked at her fingers, hungry for the taste. She knew she had him. He couldn't refuse.

—If you want more of that, you know what you have to do. Now get off me and do it. I don't care how.

Buddy did as he was told. His hard-on was standing up against his stomach. Christ that man never got soft. She crawled over to him and took him in her mouth again. His hips rocked back and forth, as though on automatic.

—God damn you. You are a bitch.

—Let me finish. I like it when you come in my mouth.

She had him with that and she took him deep. He lost control and fell on top of her. She stayed attached. She liked showing him she was the boss.

—There's more of this waiting for you when you do your job.

She got up and stood over him with her legs spread. Buddy's eyes were caught between them. She reached down to wipe him off her thigh and rub it over her breasts. Transfixed, he could only watch.

—You like what you see, don't you?

_Take a good look, you bastard. You're never going to see it again._

Nine o'clock came. Tammi's first shift of the night was just beginning. I watched halfheartedly as she strutted her stuff to her playlist and DJ Ray's performance. Ear-shattering whistles and clapping drowned out the music. She played up to the eager audience and the faces she could see in the dim lighting.

The front rows closest would leave the most money. I knew she didn't care if they threw it at her. The huge grin on her face wouldn't hurt either. Every man in the house thought she was smiling for him. Her tips would be good again tonight.

I spent a few minutes checking out the reaction from the crowd as Tammi picked up her routine. I never could figure out the link between a half-naked woman moving around on a stage and a hundred-dollar bill tucked into a g-string.

Especially if there was no chance the woman would end up going home with the former owner of the hundred bucks.

Sure there was always the lingering hope that someone would get to take home one of the girls. In this club it was against house rules, but it did happen from time to time. Most of the performers never got involved with a client on a full-time basis. Quick cash was another matter. I was no strip-club first-timer. I knew how it was supposed to work—and how it really worked.

Sometimes a customer lived his dream and got lucky with one of the girls. Most of the time, not. If the girl was trying to make her way through university, she liked to have her regulars. If she got lucky, she could quit dancing and use her former regulars to pay her way through school. If she got really lucky, no one beat her up and she could keep away from the clubs until she graduated.

The unlucky ones got beat up, got hooked on drugs, ended up working for pimps who took all the money. It wasn't always a good life for a woman who turned dancing into hooking.

Sure, I was working the meet-and-greet, but it wasn't really my thing. I preferred to hang in the background. I wasn't getting paid to do that. I walked onto the floor and moved table to table, working the crowd, trying to get to know the customers. It was definitely up-scale from the afternoon crowd.

I went to let Dawg set me up at the door. He seemed to know almost everyone. With his help it wouldn't take long to get to know who the high rollers were. In a week I'd have it all down and I'd be able to relax.

A week. It had only been a day and already I was feeling like it had been a month. The ride out to El Diablo had knocked the wind out of my sails. It wasn't the ride that did that, though. The real kicker was what I learned while I was there.

My mind wasn't on work. I was thinking about Tammi. I knew in the back of my head that this probably wasn't going to work out for either of us. Still, I was willing to give it a shot. It would be up to her how it all shook out.

If she was doing drugs, or holding drugs, or selling drugs, I'd be disappearing in a hurry—alone this time.

TWENTY

**TAMMI HAD NO** time to change out of her costume for the meet-up. Already she was running late and she needed to be quick getting back to the club. It was that, or Frank would be asking questions she didn't want to answer. Questions were the last thing she wanted.

She removed her shoes and slipped out of the dressing room, running barefoot to the apartment. The door was partway open. She cautiously eased it wider and looked in, sighing with relief when she saw who it was.

Buddy was sitting at the coffee table, already cutting the coke. Judging by the residue of white surrounding the man's nose he'd obviously been busy taste-testing. If he couldn't keep his nose out of the product, what was the point in keeping him around?

—Did you have to? We don't have time for this shit. I need to collect what you've got and get back on stage.

She stood over him with her hands on her hips. Buddy would have to go, the sooner the better. That she'd already made the decision made what came next much easier.

—You're stuffing our profits up your nose. Do you think that's a good idea?

Buddy handed over the bags and she pushed them down the front of the shorts she'd hastily donned in the dressing room.

—Good boy. Here's your reward.

She undid her top and let him look. Christ, he was almost drooling. If it was one thing she knew, he wasn't going to be happy forever with only that.

—You want a taste?

She bent over to let him have a good look. Her breasts hovered over his face.

—I want more than a taste and you know it.

He reached for her and she positioned herself on his lap. Her breasts were at just the right height. He rubbed his hand into what was left of the coke and spread it over both of them.

—You are such a bastard.

It was better he sucked up the leftovers than the good stuff.

—Shut the hell up and let me suck on them.

She leaned forward and Buddy buried his face. He bit her, hard. She leaned back and slapped his face. Her nipple slipped from his teeth and she cried out in pain. He closed on her again. But for the nipple caught between the man's teeth she would have slapped him again.

—When you don't give me what I want, that's what you get.

—You had all you're getting for tonight. Now get out. Frank could come here looking for me.

She glared at Buddy for good measure. He shoved her off of his lap and almost ran for the door.

—Don't forget what you have to do if you want more of this.

She stood up, turned around, and bent over, aiming what she knew he wanted more than anything else right at him. It looked like he was about to change his mind when she straightened, turned, and dropped her top.

—Next time you can have it all. Now get out of here if you know what's good for you.

She thought she heard Buddy almost whimper as he hurried through the door.

Buddy knew he was addicted to Tammi even back in Bombay Shores. He was no better than a common drug addict, only it was what she had between her legs that exerted control over him.

Seeing the woman on her back on the floor helped him over the edge. If she hadn't finished him with her mouth he would have slapped her silly and taken his good time with her. The bitch liked to think she could control men with what she had between her legs. He'd be showing her who the boss was soon enough. She was good at making promises. She'd better deliver if she knew what was good for her.

He had a bigger problem that needed solving now. He had to at least make an attempt to do what Tammi wanted by firebombing the club. How the hell was he going to draw the lineup away from the front door? If he couldn't do that, he'd end up caught red-handed.

He went back to the game on tv and tried to shut out thinking about how he was going to satisfy Tammi. When it was over he flipped through channels, looking for something to watch. It came to him—a program he had seen a couple of weeks ago. Something about magicians.

The lightbulb went off and he knew how he'd do it. The bitch would finally see that he owned her. He grabbed a t-shirt and retrieved a couple of bottles from the trash. He drove to a gas station and filled them before tearing the shirt and plugging the necks as best he could.

A drive-by past La Bonita's front door gave him a look at the crowd. Groups of men, mixed couples, singles, stretched halfway down the block at the popular strip club. He would need a diversion to draw the lineup away from the front of the building. He had to turn them into lookie-loos.

He went past the club a second time before giving up. He parked at an all-night coffee shop and bought a stale donut and a cup of bad coffee to wash it down. The bad taste left in his mouth wasn't enough to distract him from his vision of Tammi on her back on the floor of the apartment. That woman would be the death of him yet if he wasn't careful.

He got back in his truck and drove past the club a third time, looking for something, anything, to make sparks fly. Then he saw it—a one-ton with a white tank in the bed. It would be too easy. He parked down the street and selected a gas-filled plastic bottle.

He climbed into the truck's bed and placed it on it's side beneath the tank. He put a flame to the gas-soaked cloth jammed firmly in the neck. It caught instantly. He jumped onto the sidewalk and made for his own truck.

In a minute the plastic would melt. A few more, and the spreading flames created by the fumes would produce enough heat to create a boom. If the ruse worked, noise and flame would draw the people lined up at the club and turn them into moths to be drawn to the orange glow of the burning propane tank.

Buddy moved his truck closer to the front door of La Bonita. He waited, double-parked and just out of sight, ready for a quick getaway if his plan went to shit. Impatient for the action to begin, his eyes shifted from the front of the club to the mirror and the jury-rigged time bomb and then back to the club out his windshield.

An orange ball of flame engulfed the truck. The explosion shattered his rear window. The exploding propane tank flipped the truck into the street. It rolled onto its back and continued to burn as the escaping propane gas fed the flames.

The punctured gas tank added to the excitement, creating a second ball of flame. Flames reflected in store windows unbroken by the explosion.

The parade of people shifted from the entrance to the club and moved towards the disturbance. They all wanted a better look. Spectators streamed from the sidewalk into the street to watch the show.

It went better than he though. Damn but Tammi was going to be proud. He put the truck in drive, kept his foot on the brake, and slowly eased it in the direction of the club's front entrance. He lit the glass bottle, held it out the window, and tossed it at the door. It bounced off the wood with a solid thud and shattered on the concrete steps.

The second bottle broke against the top of the door. Gasoline ran down and ended up ignited by the flames from the first. He stopped the truck, got out, and flung the third bottle hard against the door. It too broke and joined the first two. He smiled, satisfied by the raging inferno he created, and got into the truck.

Buddy didn't waste time standing around to watch. He jammed the gas pedal to the floor and peeled off in a cloud of smoke and squealing tires. _Highway to Hell_ played on an oldies station.

He cranked up the volume and made for the freeway.

TWENTY-ONE

**THE CLUB'S WAILING** fire alarm didn't register immediately. DJ Ray was first to notice, but it was only because of the alarm horn located above him in the noisy club. He cocked his head and looked up at the blaring horn before turning down the music to check again.

On stage a familiar dancer froze in her routine, as though she needed music to move at all. She looked over at Ray. He shrugged and looked up at the alarm. Impatient at the unscheduled halt in the show, the crowd began chanting. Raised fists waved encouragement for the dancer to carry on without the music.

A single high pitched voice yelled _Fire!_ over the club's PA system. The voice got picked up and became a chant. It was only then that it slowly started to sink in.

Alarms blared in every corner of the club. The noise level increased as people began yelling and screaming. Chairs toppled. Tables tipped. Bottles scattered on the carpeted floor. Men began scrambling in the direction of the exits. They stumbled and tripped and fell and got up to do it all over again. Some crawled on their bellies in panicked attempts to make for the building exits.

Someone made it to the front door, only to be greeted by an orange ball of flame on the step. The door slammed shut, only to be opened again. A second fireball flew into the club. It landed on the hard tile floor, bounced, and broke. Exploding gasoline and flames engulfed the carpet.

An orange ball appeared out of nowhere, running through the club. In his haste, the ruining man almost made it past before I woke up and stuck out a foot. Arms flailed, legs kicked and the man crashed to the floor.

There was too much fire to get close enough to roll the man over on the floor. I threw my jacket overtop and grabbed for a beer bottle. It came up empty. I placed a finger over the mouth of a second and shook it as hard as I could.

In what seemed like forever the man went from funeral pyre to a mound of steaming beer fumes. The smoke and flame cleared and I recognized Bull. For good measure I sprayed him with two more. I guzzled half of the fourth and handed Bull his half.

—Frank. Holy shit. Thanks man. I thought I was a dead man. I owe you my life. Thanks.

—Show me your hands.

I took his shaking hands and did a quick examination, turning them over and over. They didn't look burned, but what the hell did I know? I spent all my spare time on a motorcycle.

—Take off some of those clothes.

Bull stripped down to his skivvies.

—Christ, Bull, there's not a burn mark on you beyond a bit of pink skin on your hands.

—Shit. Shit. I saw it all. My whole life. All in slow motion. The minute I opened that damned door. I thought I was going to die.

—You'll be all right. When an ambulance gets here you need to get checked out.

Bull's entire body started to shake. I couldn't tell whether it was from fear or anger.

—Screw the ambulance ride. I heard enough sirens when I was a kid growing up on the streets. I'm going out to look for the son of a bitch that doused me in gasoline. If you see Vince tell him I'm taking some time off.

—Bull, put your pants back on. I don't want it to be my fault when you're brought up in front of a judge on public indecency charges.

He had his shit together enough to snicker and I knew he was all right.

—I owe you my life. You ever need anything, anything, you come to Bull. You hear me?

He shook my hand again before pulling on his pants. He borrowed my too-small jacket and hurried outside. If I knew the man, he'd be gone looking for whoever and whatever had just tried to kill him.

The club's firebombing had to be no coincidence. Since having one tossed at me on the freeway, I figured the second was another warning. I still had details to work out, but I had enough to make some links.

I couldn't prove Tammi and Kelly were partners in the drug theft back in Bombay Shores. Instead, I figured on Buddy being the link to both of them. When Kelly dumped him, he probably went to the cartel to save his ass. They sent him back to sniff around when they discovered what was missing.

At some point, Tammi must have told Buddy what Kelly was holding in her closet. That's when he broke in to take a look for himself. Kelly made sure I was there to scare him off—just what she wanted when she made sure I moved in.

Buddy had to have reported back to his handlers. They sent out reinforcements in the form of the sicarios. Hit-men didn't hesitate to do what they had to do. It became their job to retrieve the missing drugs and send a message. The only way to do that was to kill the thief.

I knew why Tammi had been trying to convince me to take her north. She wanted to get farther away from her pursuers. There was a side benefit. She would get a pile more money for what she was selling out of her backpack.

She didn't give a shit about me. I was only the means to an end. I thought I was the dumb one until Tammi started dancing in the club under her own name. She was so greedy and drug-addled that she couldn't know it would give her away.

It was time to sit down with Tammi. If only I could find her. She'd been avoiding me ever since I rode out for my visit to El Diablo. Already I could hear the recriminations flying around the room.

She'd accuse me of spying on her. She'd tell me all I had to do was ask, that she would have explained everything—even though she admitted she knew nothing about the freeway firebombing.

I was suckered into a relationship with another lying woman—the story of my life since I pulled up stakes and rode out of Mexico.

TWENTY-TWO

**TAMMI BOUNCED AND** gyrated her way through her set. Impatient to get it over with and return to the apartment, she made it to the middle only because she was trying to figure out how to get her ally, Buddy, to do what she wanted.

The fool was stuffing their product up his powder-covered nose faster than he could inhale it. He had to go, the sooner, the better as far as she was concerned.

Her mind returned to her stage character. She concentrated her gaze on the reflection in the huge mirrors on the back wall. What little was left of her costume sparkled in the bright stage lights.

She bent over slowly. Her hands hesitated at her g-string, teasing. The crowd hooted and cheered, anticipating what was to come. She hooked her thumbs beneath the straps on both hips, bent all the way down, and looked out over the crowd from the vee formed by her spread legs.

The cheering halted. People scrambled for the exits. It took her a moment before she realized the music had stopped, replaced with a blaring fire alarm. In the confusion and panic chairs tipped and tables toppled as people rushed for the exit doors.

She kicked off her plastic dance shoes and ran to the back door. She heaved the heavy door open and made for the apartment. She almost toppled over Buddy in the tiny kitchen. Already he had the backpack out from behind the living room sofa.

—What are you doing? The club is on fire.

Buddy continued rolling the twenty. Satisfied with the result, he inspected it before bending over the counter. He stuffed one end of the roll into his nose and inhaled the three-line setup from the counter.

Tammi slammed the door. Buddy almost jumped out of his skin. It occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't have given up on making good his escape via the interstate after all.

—You can't keep your hands off of anything, can you?

Panicked, he pushed back from the counter and circled Tammi, almost dancing in his eagerness.

—I did it. I did it. Now you owe me. You fucking owe me.

—So I owe you. Why couldn't you wait until I was out of the club at least? When Bull ran in through the door covered in flames I thought I was going to get trapped in that dump.

—Screw Bull. You owe me. Get on your back. Get on your back, woman.

—Slow down. Rub yourself in some of that coke. You know how I like to suck you when you're covered in it.

Tammi made a grab for Buddy and pulled him into the living room. She pushed him onto the sofa and went down on her knees in front of him.

_Simpleton. He was even easier than Frank._

Buddy grabbed her shoulders and pushed her hard onto the floor. Surprised by Buddy's eagerness, she fell on her back. Her legs splayed in disarray. Her eyes locked onto something under the sofa. In that same instant Buddy yanked the g-string past her ankles and pushed into her.

She didn't struggle. Now that she had Buddy where she wanted, the rest began falling into place fast. She rocked her hips and Buddy grunted and emptied into her. She rolled onto her side and he slipped off of her.

—Happy now?

—We're not done yet.

—No, we're not.

Buddy couldn't tear his eyes away.

—Get on your back. I want to ride you.

Buddy rolled over. He glued his eyes to her breasts. He made a grab and watched her nipples harden. She reached for the table and rubbed her hand in what was left of the coke. She smeared it across her breasts and leaned over him. He buried his face between them and fastened his mouth to an erect nipple. She let him have all he wanted.

Buddy was hard again. Jesus he felt good inside her. She knew already she was going to be fast. Without thinking, she reached underneath the edge of the sofa and made a grab for the drywall knife.

She brought it out and slipped the blade. Her nipple popped out of Buddy's mouth and his eyes widened when he saw what she held in her hand.

Tammi gasped and screamed and lost control. She groaned and began to tremble. Her hips bucked. She screamed again and felt herself contracting. Buddy grunted and squirted into her for the second time. Mid-way through her own orgasm she tightened her grip on the knife. She bucked again and lost control a final time. The knife slashed at Buddy's throat as her body heaved over him, again and again.

Buddy didn't have a chance. He never uttered a sound.

Tammi's body convulsed again, still beyond her control. Finally, she leaned over and pushed herself off of Buddy. She stayed crouched beside him, trying to breathe. Sweat and Buddy's blood dripped onto the carpet.

She had no idea how long she stayed bent over Buddy's limp body. It was all she could do to move. She tried to stand up. She couldn't. Instead she reached down to rub herself and her nipples hardened. If the son of a bitch wasn't limp she'd climb on top of him again.

She stayed on the floor, kneeling beside Buddy's body, trying to catch her breath. Still trembling, she made another attempt and managed to get up off the floor. She reached for her phone and dialed 911. She grabbed a bed sheet, covered the table with it, and threw her backpack in the closet.

The banging on the door grew louder.

I was lucky with my efforts to get everyone out of the club. Bull was gone, disappeared and headed for parts unknown. He had a close call and some luck that I had the presence of mind to get him on the ground and douse the flames. The fire trucks and ambulances were the last to depart.

A cop left the investigation and began asking questions. I told him what I could about the fire, but it was essentially nothing. I hadn't seen anything beyond the results of the gasoline bombs.

Satisfied, he took a radio call and rushed off down the alley towards the rear of the club and the parking lot. He halted, looked around, and saw me as I was about to walk past him to the apartment.

—Is there something wrong?

He gave me the once-over.

—We had a report of a rape.

—What? A rape?

—That's right. Why are you here?

—I live here.

I managed a quick look through the open door as the officer entered the apartment. A male body lay sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa. His pants were down around his ankles. The man looked familiar. What the— Buddy?

What was he doing here?

I could hear Tammi in the kitchen. She was sobbing her eyes out to someone, most likely a cop. I took another quick look through the doorway before another turned me around and chased me off. The sight of Tammi's knees and thighs, covered in blood, forced the hair on the back of my neck on end for the second time in a week.

How the hell did her legs get covered in blood?

Something wasn't right. I got smart and headed for the club. If the cops wanted to ask about Tammi's attacker, they could come and find me. When they finally tracked me down, it was to fill me in on what happened in the apartment.

The officer said Buddy had been harassing Tammi. She tried to get away from him by coming to the city. It didn't work. Apparently, Buddy's attempt to firebomb La Bonita had been part of the harassment. After he set the fire he probably saw Tammi running from the club to the apartment. That was when he chased after her and attacked. She did the only thing she could when she saw the box-cutter. It appeared to be a case of self-defense.

_Yeah. According to Tammi. Too bad Buddy couldn't speak._

The cop left, hoping for pastures greener than me. He began interviewing victims of the gasoline bomb thrown into the club.

I took time digesting what I'd been told. The more I thought about it, the more it didn't add up. The cops might not have any questions, but I had a few. It was Kelly who was being harassed by Buddy in Bombay Shores, not Tammi. Tammi was on the run from cartel killers. There were two fire bombings and a rape to Buddy's credit.

Except I didn't believe the rape story. I was no cop, but it looked to me like Buddy was on his back when his throat was slit. How were they going to explain that? And how had Tammi's knees and thighs gotten covered in blood?

This was turning into another Bombay Shores, but it was more complicated than that. Tammi was involved up to her ears this time. If she didn't get started digging herself out, she was going to end up like Kelly.

I wasn't so anxious to share the grave.

TWENTY-THREE

**THE MORNING AFTER** the fire, Vince called in the staff to make an announcement. We lingered by the stand-up bar, waiting to learn if or when the club would re-open. We witnessed the damage limited to the outside of the entrance and a bit of carpet, but still, rumors flew between the two groups surrounding the bar.

Rumor had it the place was losing money. Insurance wouldn't pay. The fire was the last straw. It was another excuse to close up for good. Everyone would be laid off and sent packing with no pay.

A smaller group at the end of the bar talked in subdued voices about Tammi and Buddy. One of them spotted me, and they quieted.

Finally Vince climbed into DJ Ray's booth and the chatter halted. We waited to hear the man's marching orders for the club's opening—or if it would open. Vince looked out over the group. Seemingly satisfied, the microphone squealed as he turned it on and began his announcement.

—As you saw when you walked in, damage is minimal. The door will be replaced. Fresh paint and new carpet will cover the scars. It's going to take more than a little fire to shut me, and all of you, down. Best of all, we're going to re-launch at nine p.m. tonight.

Applause and cheering echoed through the huge room, empty but for the employees.

—The police are working on the who and why. From what I've been told, it looks like it was random. Someone tried to make it personal when he took a liking to one of the dancers.

The quiet chatter among the group halted, replaced by an uncomfortable silence.

—Before you leave, there's one more thing. Take the rest of the day off and enjoy it. You'll all get paid as if you were at work. Come back tonight and we'll start the re-launch with a full shift and a whole new attitude.

Wild chants and applause brought the house down. The rush to the door left an empty room. Vince waved me over to DJ Ray's booth. He was the last person I wanted to see, and sure as hell the last I wanted asking questions.

—Do you have any ideas about what happened last night?

Did I, or didn't I? Did I want to keep working here? Or was it finally time to get the hell far enough away that this shit wouldn't be following me around for the foreseeable future?

—Buddy was no stranger to me or to Tammi. I first ran into him in Bombay Shores.

I told Vince how I ended up with Tammi on the back of the bike. I re-hashed the firebombing attempt on the night we arrived. I told him again about riding out to El Diablo the next day and what I learned when I started asking questions about Tammi.

—I think Buddy and Tammi have been connected from the start. I don't think the club's firebombing was random. Someone had to have put Buddy up to it.

How, or who, I didn't know. It was obvious now that it wasn't healthy for anyone to be around either of them.

—Well, there's one less now. What do you think I should do?

I thought about telling Vince to boot my ass and Tammi's out the door as fast as he could before the entire club ended up burned to the ground. Not wanting a club that had been turned into a smoking pyre would make for a wise choice.

I didn't go with that.

—I don't know, Vince. If you want me to get her out of here, I'll go.

He looked at me, appraising, before his gaze returned to the burned-out door.

—I know a guy. Let me pass everything on to him and we'll see what he comes up with.

We shook on it, but I knew my days at the El Diablo were numbered. If he was going to pay someone to look into Tammi's background, there's no telling what nightmares a real investigation would come up with.

Buddy's sudden appearance wasn't random. He'd been around since Bombay Shores. How Buddy managed to get into the apartment was anyone's guess. Tammi wasn't talking. Because of the police investigation, she said. Sure as shit there was more to it than that.

I went looking for Tammi, but as usual, she had disappeared. She must have thought she was better off making herself scarce before I came back to ask more questions she didn't want to hear. Even without her answers, I knew I didn't need another woman with a drug problem in my life.

The latest effort to set fire to the club was a crazed attempt to send another message. But who was the message for? Then a light bulb went off like a Molotov cocktail flung into the dark of night.

I hurried to the apartment, on the hunt for anything to confirm what had been staring me in the face. For my efforts I ended up finding a wad of cash tucked into the sofa. Either Tammi was making more in tips than she was telling me, or something else was going on that involved Buddy, drugs and distribution.

I stashed the wad in a saddlebag and eased the bike out of the lot. I headed west past Beaumont and then Banning and the desert. On the way I contemplated life.

The firebombing. Buddy's attack on Tammi and his subsequent death. Her past life at El Diablo. It was all catching up. It was time to re-evaluate.

What the hell was I doing? I already had a bellyful of Kelly back in Bombay Shores. I narrowly escaped getting shot in the back. Now Tammi had joined the pack. I was fed up with being played for a sucker.

I was better than that, and I knew it.

I backtracked to Banning and took the 243 and its twisties into the hills. By then it was late afternoon and I was mentally exhausted. Still plenty fed up, I reversed course and headed back to the city. I wasn't looking forward to confronting Tammi.

Before I knew it I was in front of the diner. I hated to admit it, but Danielle had turned out to be foremost on my mind. Why I felt the need to share my dilemma with her, I didn't know. It was my lucky day when she came out to greet me, so I smiled. I could still do that, at least.

—I heard you ride up. What's going on?

—Did you hear what happened at the club last night?

—No. Yesterday was my day off. I've been working here. What happened?

I would have started right in on the events of last night, until I caught a glimpse of the face she was shielding from me. It was covered in thick makeup. She didn't seem to me to be the type.

I positioned closer for a better look. She caught me examining her and turned away again. It was too late. Either the car she was riding in had to be a complete write-off or someone had taken a fist to her face.

—Never mind about the club. What happened to you? Will you tell me about it, or are you going to force me to be a gentleman and ignore it?

Her face flushed through the makeup. To cover for being caught out she poured me a cup of coffee and disappeared into the kitchen. I could hear whispering. When she came back she had on her street clothes.

—Let's take a walk.

TWENTY-FOUR

**IN THE BRIGHT** sunlight there was no hiding it. Someone had put the fists to Danielle. Maybe his boots, too. I couldn't see what her clothes were hiding.

—My boyfriend is the jealous type. I mean he was. He's not my boyfriend any more after what he did to me. He came home drunk last night. It seems someone at the club told him I was seeing somebody on the side.

Could all this have been my fault?

—I discovered this place and you completely by accident. I didn't say a word to anyone.

I only hoped she believed me, because I hadn't breathed a word to anyone. Tammi, on the other hand, was the jealous type. I started to wonder if she had some connection to Danielle's boyfriend that neither of us knew about.

—Whether you did or didn't, it wouldn't matter to him. Someone said something. He's crazy jealous. He'd never let me ride to work at the club. He always dropped me off and picked me up when my shift was over.

—Do you think he might have seen us on our walk?

—I don't know. I don't care any more. He's in jail. I hope he'll be cooling his heels for a while. With my luck he'll be out in a day.

—Is there anything I can do?

—No. Well, you can listen to me whine about it.

Taking a beating and talking about it didn't sound like whining to me. Hell, Danielle had to be tough as nails to take a shit-kicking like that and still be standing.

—I don't think it's whining.

She changed the subject, obviously embarrassed that I caught her out.

—You were going to tell me about the club.

—I was, but first I want to know more about you and riding. Did I hear that right?

—Don't hold out on me about the club. I'll tell you about the other later. What happened last night?

There was no sense honey-coating it. Danielle would find out soon enough when she started her shift.

—The club was firebombed.

—What? Firebombed? As in Molotov cocktail? Was anyone hurt?

—You heard right. Bull had a narrow escape. I got to him in time. No burns, nothing.

—So he's all right then?

I nodded. She looked relieved.

—Do they know who did it?

—Buddy's truck was parked on the street. When the cops checked it out, they found a lighter and some rags and empty bottles. The thinking is that it was some form of revenge.

—Who's Buddy?

Christ, now I'd have to explain everything.

—How much time do you have?

—Eddy gave me the rest of the day off. I think he's taken a liking to you. I'm going to collect my riding gear. You can wait at the diner.

I poured my own coffee while Eddy fixed some sandwiches. He must have been eavesdropping. I didn't mind.

—Take these with you. Ham and cheese and lettuce on dark rye. She eats them all the time when she wants lunch.

—Do you know what happened to her last night?

Eddy started in on an explanation before halting mid-sentence.

—I think she should be the one to tell you about it if she hasn't already.

The throaty exhaust of Danielle's pearl-white motorcycle pulled in next to my bagger.

—Is that new, or do you wax it a lot? You do realize that the more time you spend washing and waxing, the less time you have to ride.

A huge smile crept over her face. In an instant it ended up as a wince. Minus the makeup she had washed off, not one but two of the blackest eyes I'd ever seen were visible behind the sunglasses. She had to be hurting a ton.

—Just because I have eyes like a raccoon doesn't mean that I'm not willing to give you eyes to match.

She made a fist but she didn't grin. It probably hurt too much.

—If you're expecting sympathy by bragging about your new look—

—You're damned right I'm expecting sympathy. What I want to know is, when is it going to start?

—Right about now. Do you want to know where I'm taking you?

—No. Let's just ride.

I grinned like a fox.

—In that case, try to keep up.

I threaded us through traffic to the 215 and across to Hemet. From there I struck out on the 74. She didn't have any trouble keeping up. I led us to a lake and pulled off close to shore.

—You know how to treat a girl. I haven't been anywhere near here in ages.

—I wanted to see how you rode in the twisties. So far, you're doing pretty good for a girl.

—And don't you ever forget about the girl part.

I looked across at her before getting off the bike.

—There's no forgetting.

This time she didn't blush.

—You were going to tell me about the club.

—In a bit. Eddy cooked one of your favorite meals when you weren't looking. You're going to sit and enjoy it or else. When you're finished, I'll get to it, but first I'm going to tell you a story.

—Oh great. Another man in my life with a sob story I'll be forced to listen to.

She smiled. I didn't mind.

—This all started when I broke down by the Salton Sea.

—What were you doing there?

—It's my escape. I was on my way home after a winter down on the Baja. I like it there. The weather is great and the locals are friendly if you learn a bit of the language.

—I've never been, but it sounds like life down on the Florida Keys.

I let her mention of the Keys slide, but I filed it away.

—I needed a place to stay while I waited for parts. At the motel I crossed paths with a woman who had room for me.

—Was that Tammi?

—No. It was Kelly. Tammi was a friend of hers.

—You get around with the women.

—Sometimes.

I hesitated.

—Don't stop now. I can take it.

—You enjoy giving a man a hard time, don't you?

—Only the ones I think need it.

—I was mean to you when we crossed paths at the diner. I'm sorry.

—I put it behind me and moved on that very day. Didn't you notice?

How could I not like this one? I told her about the drugs and taking Tammi out of Bombay Shores. Then about the Diablo, and finally arriving at the Bonita. She asked about my arrangement with Tammi.

—We share the apartment below the club.

—What else do the two of you share?

She had to have that figured out by now.

—Well, we sleep in the same bed if that tells you anything.

There was no sense lying about it.

—Did I miss anything else last night?

—Yeah, there is one more thing. Tammi was attacked and raped by Buddy. I found out that was going on when I was trying to get everyone out of the club during the fire.

—I'm sorry to hear that. Is she all right?

—Well, apart from dealing with cutting the guy up, she's fine. Buddy, not so much. When the cops were looking into that, they discovered his truck parked by the club. They found glass bottles, rags and a lighter.

—Which means he was probably the arsonist. Did I just hear you right? Tammi knifed him?

—I thought you missed that part. Yeah, she did. She slit his throat with a box knife while he was raping her.

—Holy shit. How is she handling that?

—I don't know. She seems to have disappeared—and I don't think it's into therapy.

—What's happening with the club? Is the damage going to get fixed?

—Vince closed the club for the investigation. It's opening tonight at nine. I'm not sure if I want to keep on working there now.

—It sounds like you have a decision to make.

—I think you might be right. Now let's hit the road. It'll be dark by the time we get back.

We rode together as far as the diner. Danielle waved when she turned off. I waved back and reluctantly rode on to La Bonita. I wasn't looking forward to spending another night under that roof.

Talking about it had given me a better picture of what was going on. I was sharing my bed with a woman who had used a box-cutter to slice a man's throat. Funny thing about that, though. When I got there, Buddy was on his back in a pool of blood. There was no sign of a struggle. Tammi's knees were covered in blood.

When she did the cutting, either she was giving him a blow job or riding the daylights out of him.

Or maybe doing both.

TWENTY-FIVE

**TAMMI WAS ON** me like a wet shirt the instant I walked in the door. One problem, though—she had on the clothes she was wearing last night. I looked hard, but I couldn't see even a spot of blood.

—Where the hell have you been? And what are you looking at? I waited for you in this dump all afternoon and you never showed.

She was a mess. Makeup washed down and smeared her tear-stained face. She had difficulty talking. Her words slurred. She was drunk or high or maybe both.

—What can I say? I was out. I went for a ride.

I wanted to ask about the cash stuffed in the sofa. She didn't give me the chance.

—Were you out with that bitch again?

Again? How could she know that?

—I know she's got a bike.

—For crying out loud, woman. I only just met the girl the other night in the club when she brought me a beer.

—You look at her like she's a virgin begging to get laid.

She wasn't far from right, but I wasn't going to admit it.

—And she brought you two beers. You tipped her twice.

What was the point? In her stupor there'd be no reasoning with the woman.

She peeled off her shirt, pulled up her skirt and straddled me on the sofa. She shoved her breasts in my face and I started chewing. That seemed to take her mind off of Danielle. Mine, too. She got down on her knees and left behind a wet patch on my jeans.

—This is what I need.

She had my pants down in a flash. I helped. What's man good for if he can't help a woman get his own pants down as fast as he could?

Tammi rolled onto her back and I climbed on. Her hips shifted and she reached around to show me the way. She crossed her ankles and locked her legs around me. She shuddered and grunted. Nails raked my back. Her hips bucked but she couldn't throw me off. She was hanging on too tight.

I held on just as tight.

Somehow she managed to work her way into the same spot Buddy was in when she slit his throat. Someone had cut out the carpet and cleaned up the mess. At least she wasn't doing me in a pool of dried blood.

Her bucking matched my rhythm and I finished in her. The sucking sounds her insides made kept me hard. She grunted when she pushed me off and went down on me. She looked up at me with a twisted grin.

I never said a word. All of a sudden I knew I had to get my ass out of town. I was beginning to feel like I was only a couple of short steps from turning batshit crazy just like she was.

When she climbed onto me and went full-bore I forgot all about leaving. Instead I let her have another screaming fit.

Screw it. Maybe I'd stay until something better came along.

Vince was one smart cookie when it came to advertising. He knew word of the firebombing would draw a crowd like none the club had ever experienced. He was keen to take advantage of it and kept La Bonita closed until the very last minute.

The club's entire staff had been called in to handle the crowd of gawkers. It wouldn't be long before they would turn into a crazy audience for the dancers when the doors opened.

The lineup started building early in the evening. It stretched down the block. It was a boisterous crowd that wanted to be able to tell absent friends about their experience when they were finally admitted. Dawg and Bull had been instructed to use the wands at the door to screen out the troublemakers that always showed up for a night such as this.

Management made it clear to the staff that it would be all hands on deck. No one complained. They were happy to be here for the tips they knew would pile up until night's end.

—I'm surprised to see you showing up for this.

Danielle wasn't wearing makeup. Even in the dim light of the club her bruised face stood out. She looked scared, too.

—I didn't want to be here. Vince called me to come in.

—I don't blame you. Tonight is going to be a zoo.

—It's not that. My ex is outside in the lineup.

We stuck our heads out the door together. Danielle collapsed against me before withdrawing her head behind the door in a hurry. My arm went around her before she straightened.

—He saw us.

Okay, so maybe doing that together wasn't so smart.

—I'll warn Dawg and Bull. There's no sense pushing it.

—Please don't tell them anything about us. I don't want anyone to know I work at the diner.

—Don't worry. What's his name?

—Jake. Greasy hair. Shiny jacket. Big.

—I'll tell the guys. They'll take care of him. They owe me big-time for last night.

Danielle left and I grabbed Bull and took him aside. I didn't want to create a commotion. I only had to tell him there could be a person in the lineup that might make problems for our re-launch. I pointed in Jake's direction.

—The one with the shiny jacket and greasy hair.

—We're using the wands tonight. We're not taking any chances on someone causing trouble with anything more than a fist.

I took a better look at Bull.

—Hey man, did you get some new threads?

The shit-eating grin plastered across his beefy face said yes.

—Thanks to you. I owe you.

—In that case, just keep an eye out for Jake and maybe we'll be even.

I kept mum about Danielle's predicament. I figured if she wanted him to know, she could tell him himself when he noticed the bruised face. I strolled down the long line of eager customers, pretending to count. It was an excuse to check out Jake. The man wasn't that big, but he was stocky and he looked mean. At the last minute I changed my mind about getting close to him in the dark. Instead, I went back to the club. At the door I turned for another look.

Jake had disappeared.

La Bonita had been open for an hour, maybe a little more. It was packed with eager customers. Waiters scrambled from the tables to the bar and back to fill orders. Outside, the line advanced at a snail's pace. The jostling and shoving didn't let up. Everyone wanted to be in front of someone else.

Vince made sure to stretch it out to milk the re-launch for every dollar it was worth. Normally the dancers would be on-stage shortly after opening. It wasn't happening like that tonight with the late opening. He made sure the beer flowed to help get the impatient crowd worked into a fever pitch.

So far, Vince's strategy had worked—that is, until it got close to the time for the headliner. DJ Ray had Tammi's playlist blaring over the speakers. The buzz from the crowd almost overpowered the sound system. Clapping in unison and chanting Tammi's name, the crowd demanded satisfaction.

I already knew Tammi was an emotional mess because of what happened, but she had to go on. There was no way she could say no. The lights dimmed and blinked, the signal for a dancer to be on-stage.

She remained in the shadows on the edge of the stage, out of the lights. Someone in the audience caught sight and pointed and the pandemonium began all over. The yelling and screaming intensified.

The lights came up. That was her cue to walk to center stage. She didn't quite complete the journey. She stumbled, caught herself, and fell. Her legs splayed. Her feet kicked. A shoe flipped into the audience.

The yelling and whistling stopped short, but the crowd gave her the benefit of the doubt. They were there to watch the star attraction perform.

Tammi managed to get up. Minus a shoe, her uneven gait caused her to trip and go down again. She made a grab for the pole to steady herself. She leaned against it for support. She regained her balance and kicked off the offending shoe.

Her sad performance wasn't pretty to watch. Neither was she.

The harsh overhead stage lights flipped on, revealing makeup smeared across her face. Her hair was a straggly mess. She must have thought naked was the new costume because she wasn't wearing one. She tried one more time to use the pole to pull herself upright onto her feet.

The strategy didn't work and she fell for the last time. She kept trying, like an insect on it's back. She couldn't manage to coordinate her arms and legs. She was too high to know enough to give up. She didn't appear to have a clue where she was.

Cheers turned into jeers. Boos and catcalls drowned out the music. A bottle smashed against the pole. Beer splashed and drenched the floor. Not wanting her to be hurt, I forced my way through the packed crowd, climbed the stage, and picked her up. I carried her off. She passed out, dead weight in my arms.

Out of sight, I threw her over my shoulder and hauled her bare ass to the apartment. She cried and mumbled and shrieked and kicked the whole time. She screamed Buddy's name. She said she was sorry. She mumbled more crazy shit that I couldn't understand and then went back to shouting for Buddy.

At least now I knew how Buddy met his end. The drug-addled, crazy bitch had killed him. I filed the information away after dropping her on the bed and went back to work.

Tammi's disastrous performance pretty much kicked the fun out of the night for me. The let-down didn't last long for the rest of the staff. The saving grace was the ever-changing, raucous crowd that tipped well all night. Once witnesses to the disaster had been outnumbered by fresh faces in the crowd, things returned to the low boil that had been brewing since the club's doors opened.

The night's turnout overwhelmed everyone. The attitude of the raucous crowd spilled over to the staff. Occasionally, I would cross paths with Danielle in the crowded bar, but we had no time for small talk. Still, I made sure I took my break when she did.

—I've been here for three months and I've never seen anything like this.

—This is what you get when local news picks up on a story and runs with it. Everyone wants in on the show.

—I saw you going to Tammi's rescue. What kind of shape is she in?

—She's out of it. She couldn't move a muscle.

—She's going to wake up with a king-size hangover.

—When she wakes up she'll want something to stuff up her nose to get over the hangover. I don't want to be around to witness that.

—So you've made up your mind?

—Pretty much. I've had enough. A thousand miles of two-lane blacktop in a day wouldn't exhaust me as much as the past ten days.

—I don't envy what you've been going through.

—When it starts to feel like it's time to go, it usually is.

—Is that the voice of experience talking?

—I think we've talked enough about me. I want to know more about you.

—How much time have you got?

—About five minutes until break is over.

—In that case, I'll give you the short version. I was brought up on the Florida Keys—born and raised. We're known as conchs. My parents run a small family-owned dive shop and sport fishing business. When I was little I worked behind the counter. When I got older I couldn't wait to get out, and here I am.

—I spent time riding the Keys back a few years. I've always thought I'd like to go back.

—My parents want me to take over the business. I'm not sure if I'm ready. I don't think it's time to have that back in my life yet.

—I can't wait to hear the long version.

She smiled.

—Well, you're going to have to wait. I need to get back to work.

TWENTY-SIX

**THE LIGHTS IN** the club flickered for last call and then dimmed. Twenty minutes later it was closed and empty but for the cashing out. Danielle was the last.

—How did you do?

—Just like everyone else. My pockets are full.

I let her know I put Bull onto her ex without telling him anything about us.

—Jake disappeared when he found out we were using the wands.

—Thanks. I'm glad he didn't try to get in, but chances are he didn't up and disappear. I'm too tired to think about it now. I'm heading home.

—If it's all right with you I'll be coming by for coffee in the morning.

—I'd like that, but don't let it go to your head. And don't be a smart ass—you know which head.

—You're just harsh, woman.

—You know it. Good night.

I turned and almost knocked Tammi over. When I put her to bed she was out of it and almost dead going by how she looked. No such luck.

—How long have you been standing there?

She was pale-faced and shaking like a leaf.

—Long enough to know you've got the hots for that little bitch. I thought I told you to leave her out of it. Get rid of her, or I'll get rid of her for you.

So she had been the one to inform on me with Danielle's ex.

—What is it with you? I haven't laid a finger on her.

—You'd better not have laid anything else on her either if you know what's good for you. Now get your ass in gear. I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

She made a grab for my belt and yanked me in the direction of the exit. I couldn't tell whether she needed to hang on to steady herself or if she was anxious to get me home and away from temptation. In any case, she was too late. I stopped short and detached her hand.

—Stay!

I could be a son of a bitch too. Tammi crossed her arms and tapped a still-bare foot. The stink-eye she aimed in Danielle's direction wasn't pretty.

—It looks like you got what you deserved. Your new face is an improvement.

Danielle wasn't about coming down to Tammi's level. Her crestfallen look said something else was wrong.

—What's up?

—I've got two flat tires. This was stuck in the seat.

My eyes widened when I saw the large version of a k-bar clutched in her hand. Her ex left his calling card.

—Too bad it wasn't stuck in your back, bitch.

Tammi wanted a cat-fight. The hate-filled look told me I'd be wise to get one of them out of the place. I knew exactly which one, too, but Tammi wouldn't be liking it.

—I'll help you push your bike into the back. How are you planning on getting home?

—I'll take a cab.

—No you won't. Grab your helmet. I'll take you.

Tammi's jaw dropped and her foot stopped mid-tap. She waved her arms and stomped off to the back of the club. I didn't care any more. The writing was on the wall. The question was, would I be smart enough to read it?

I waited for Danielle to climb on the back of my bagger. She sat so light I could barely tell she was there.

—Just remember, woman. I'm driving this rig. No leaning into the corners.

—Yes, master.

—Okay, now I know you're screwing with me.

—Maybe. Maybe not.

—Refresh my memory. Who was it told me she didn't ride bitch?

She punched my shoulder.

—You're my first, but don't let your imagination take it farther.

Damned if I could read this one. We rode the rest of the way in silence until we got to her door.

—Do you want to come in?

Yes, I did, but that's not what I said.

—I don't want to start a war with you two back at the club. Can I get a rain check?

For once, I said no. At least, it sounded like it. That was a new one on me.

—I don't give rain checks, either.

—Seeing as how we just shot down the not riding bitch speech you laid on me the other day, I'll take a wait and see attitude.

—If you're going to give me attitude, your head is going to be monumentally sore by the time I'm finished with you.

I figured I should shut up and leave it at that.

Despite all the promises I made to the contrary, I headed back to La Bonita and Tammi. I couldn't escape either one. Tammi and the club had a hold on me that I couldn't break, no matter how many times the voice in my head told me to ride on.

I took it slow and gave myself time to think. How many times had I done just that in the last couple of days?

Would I stay in this sweet mess, or would I hit the road and get out of Dodge? There was no way I wanted to get into something with a third woman I didn't know. Christ, at the rate I was going I'd be three for three by sunup.

Buddy's death wasn't resting too easy on my mind. Tammi creeped me out when she started mumbling apologies for killing him while I had her slung over my shoulder. In her drugged-out state she didn't know what she was saying, but I had been paying attention.

Women. Since leaving Mexico, two had been liars. One of them was a self-confessed killer. Yet I believed every story they had handed off. If I was a rich man, I'd be broke by now. As it was, I was broke anyway—well, except for the wad stashed in my saddlebag. I'd almost forgot about the cash.

So far, Tammi hadn't missed it—not surprising in her drug-induced stupor.

La Bonita's neon came into view and I was ready to collapse and sleep the sleep of the dead. If only. Unfortunately, what greeted me when I opened the door wasn't a pretty picture.

The living room was completely trashed. Tammi was knee-deep and thrashing around in everything she had thrown on the floor or smashed against a wall. I grabbed her wrists and forced her onto her knees.

—That must have been quite a fit. Are you done now?

She made a feeble attempt to kick at me but her legs collapsed and she fell to the floor on her back. Her temper tantrum was over. She was exhausted.

—I will be when I get you between my legs.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't as exhausted as she led me to believe.

—If that bitch had you between hers you're going to be sorry.

I was already sorry, and the bitch she was talking about had only smiled at me. The trouble with Tammi was that she couldn't let go of anything.

Tammi passed out the minute I dumped her on the bed. I wouldn't have to deal with her drug-induced jealousy over a woman I had only smiled at. Somehow, I didn't think Danielle was looking to hook up with the likes of someone like me after dumping the loser she had been dating.

Come daylight, Tammi had me wide awake listening to her screams in the bedroom. I figured she had to be yelling into a phone to some poor son of a bitch behind the closed door. I crawled off the sofa and she hung up. She must have been keeping her other ear on me.

—Who was that?

—A friend. He heard about the rape and wanted to know if I was all right.

Red-rimmed eyes, dilated pupils and disheveled hair gave her a wild look. Unkempt, greasy hair framed a face covered in a sweaty sheen.

—You're using.

—I'm not using. I cried myself to sleep last night. I'm upset with what's going on between you and Danielle. The two of you seem awfully friendly all of a sudden.

I looked around the trashed apartment. Cried herself to sleep? Christ, she was barely breathing when I put her to bed. She was so tired she couldn't even snore. This one could bullshit with the best of them.

—So all this was because of jealousy?

—Yes, it's because of jealousy. Now can we stop talking about it?

—We can stop, but it's not going to go away.

I knew it would never go away for me until I left everything a long way behind. She refused to let up.

—We need to get away from here. I know some people at a club in Seattle that are willing to give us a fresh start. We could head up there first thing.

I already knew the answer. I asked the question anyway.

—Shit, that's almost in Canada. Why there?

The farther north she could move whatever quantity of product she hadn't stuffed up her own nose, the more money she'd be able to get. Two thousand dollars for a key in South America could wring two hundred-thousand out of needy people in the north. The trouble with that was when the seller was a user. It never ended in a good way.

—L.A. hasn't been good for us. This city is a jinx. We've only been here a couple of days and look what happened.

Fast talker that she was, she was right about that. Although, I just showed up and already I had an apartment, a job and a paycheck. It didn't seem like the jinx was on me if I took Tammi out of the equation.

All I had to do was last until payday. The way things were going, I didn't think I'd be around much past yesterday. Maybe I should admit it was a jinx after all.

—Are you coming to bed now? I'm tired.

Tired? Christ, she didn't even know it was already tomorrow. Tammi was wound so tight that sleep was the last thing she was going to get. Added to that, I was starting to get a little shy about closing my eyes when she was around.

I had been willingly drawn into Tammi's world by some deep-seated need to help a woman in trouble. I ended up getting out of Bombay Shores with a reformed junkie riding bitch. All the bitch wanted was someone to help her move drugs.

Keeping her happy would be easy. All I had to do was stay on the move. When the drugs were gone, it was anyone's guess as to how I'd end up.

What I didn't want was to end up like Buddy.

TWENTY-SEVEN

**TAMMI REACHED FOR** me beneath the covers, impatient and eager. Her lips fastened onto me and I became just as eager. She moved up and her swollen nipples brushed against the length of me. I moved to climb over her. She cried out and pushed me back down before climbing over me. The length of me ended up between her legs in one long, fast downward plunge.

I didn't move. I didn't have to. She shuddered once and fell onto me, panting into my ear.

—You were quick.

—I needed it. I'll look after you when I catch my breath.

I moved to lie beside her.

—Don't. Stay in me. I need you there.

She shuddered again, and screamed. All right, then. Officially, I was now borderline crazy too.

Tammi's breathing became even. I nudged her to be sure. It was now or never. I got out of bed and went through the room. Nothing. In the living room I checked the sofa for more loose change. I moved to the bedroom. Bed. Mattress. Closet. Floor.

She slept through it all.

Her backpack leaned against the wall on her side of the bed. Could it be that obvious? I pulled a zipper and checked inside.

Oh yes it could. Where had I seen this before?

I pulled a package out of Tammi's backpack. Another scorpion meant another five-key block. By the look of it, the second bundle of Kelly's dope had found its way into the backpack. Now I knew why the woman had been so protective of the damned thing.

At least this time there was no one holding a gun to my back.

I dressed and pushed my ride down the driveway. I knew exactly where I was headed. I didn't even try to bullshit myself. I almost made it, too, until flashing lights bounced off of windows and fire trucks. Cops directed what little traffic there was around the closed street. I parked and walked the rest of the way.

Orange flames and sparks illuminated a cloud of smoke drifting up into the night. Danielle and Eddy huddled together, staring into the ruins of what remained of the diner.

I had no reason to think it had been torched, but my first thought was of Buddy. Then I remembered he was beyond this. Tammi was passed out in my bed so she was off the hook.

—Were you inside when it went up?

—No. I got the call. Danielle heard the sirens and walked over to see what the fuss was about.

—I'm sorry, Eddy.

—That's it, you two. I've had enough. I'm done. The insurance is going to pay out and I'm moving to the Keys.

—What happened?

—I don't know. It was almost to the ground by the time I got here. The chief says it went up quick. He thinks something must have been used to get it going that fast.

—So someone set it on fire.

—It looks that way.

Danielle looked at me and I knew exactly what she was thinking.

—It wasn't Tammi. I was with her.

—Then I can only think of one other person.

I knew who that was. By now I had it figured that Jake was the person on the other end of the phone taking the abuse this morning.

—Your ex.

—Yes. He won't be satisfied until he runs me out of town.

—Where will you go?

—I didn't say I was leaving. Now come on. We're going over to my place. Come on, Eddy. There's safety in numbers.

We sat around Danielle's kitchen drinking coffee. To kill time and thoughts of Eddy's destroyed dream, we made a game out of who could tell the saddest story. So far, Eddy was winning. Danielle was a close second with her swollen black eyes. I didn't even consider entering the contest.

Danielle finally recalled Eddy's comment about the Keys.

—What's this you were saying about moving? You never told me anything about a retirement plan.

—For the last few years I've been thinking about getting out of this town. The traffic, the pollution, the politics are all wearing me down. I think when the insurance comes through I'm gone.

—The Keys, Eddy. Don't change the subject.

—It's been a long-time dream of mine that this California boy should one day escape the big city and retreat to the laid-back Florida Keys. I've been thinking about the white sand and clear-blue water for a few years now. I hear there's no polluted air down there.

—So that's the reason for the postcard pinned over the grill.

—Now you know.

—I've ridden down that way. There's plenty of places to get lost off the causeway. I think I'd like to go back there one day myself.

—You two are definitely a couple of dreamers. You both need to stop talking and start doing.

—I've had just about enough of being taken advantage of. I've been played for a sucker long enough.

—Danielle told me about your situation. I don't envy you one bit for what's been going on between you and that dancer.

—I tossed the place earlier tonight while Tammi was sleeping. I found what was left of a five-key block—again. Every time I open a door there's dope behind it—and I don't mean me.

Eddy grinned.

—I don't know, Frank. Two for two is a pretty good average.

He was right about that.

—Not any more. My bag is packed and I'm ready to roll. All I have to do is stop in and tell Vince I won't be around. I'll pay back the five bills he loaned me and I'm good to go.

—Where will you get the money?

As far as Danielle knew, I was broke.

—I'll tell you later because I know you won't go along with it.

Eddie pushed back the chair and stood up.

—Well kids, I've had about enough. I'm going home. If you're ever in the Keys, look me up. I'll be in the book.

—So long, Eddy.

It felt good to finally make up my own mind while sitting in Danielle's kitchen.

—I'll let you stay for a little while.

She granted my silent wish.

—So then, the decision isn't up to me?

—That's right. I'll be throwing your sorry ass out at a moment's notice.

—I think Eddy has the sorriest ass around these parts, but I'll take what little sympathy I can get.

—While you do that, I'm going to take a shower. I won't be long.

She left the door open. I made no secret of looking. With the light behind her I couldn't quite make out everything. From what I could see reflected in the mirror, she had it going on in all the right places.

—Are you coming?

I hesitated. That was a first for me.

—Are you coming or not?

Obviously I needed to be asked twice.

—Yes. Sorry. I was busy looking.

—I know. I wanted you to.

I undressed under her watchful eye. Hell, she was almost as bad as I was.

—Come closer.

I stepped out of my jeans into the running water. She turned to face me. She didn't look up.

—Hey, you.

She didn't answer. Instead, she cupped me in both hands.

—I'm going to like this.

A hand snaked behind to force me closer. Finally, she looked up.

—I need to try this on for size.

Her mouth surrounded me and she got busy, slowly at first. She wasn't new at it. I couldn't hold back, whether because she was greedy or I was willing, or both. I spilled out of her mouth and ran down onto her breasts. I pulled her up and kissed her.

—My goodness.

—What?

—No one has ever done that before.

—If you want to wash off the water's getting cold.

—I don't care. I'll wash it off later. Do you have any left?

—Let's find out.

Danielle took my hand and led me in the direction of the bedroom. Without a word she got on her back. I leaned over her and moved my knees to surround her hips. I eased in, slowly. We shifted and she brought her feet off the bed and wrapped her legs around me.

—You fill me up.

Her hand snaked around to cradle me.

—Reach back and feel the wet.

My hand covered hers in the sea running onto the bed. She giggled and shifted and even more seeped out.

—There's going to be a lot more of that in a bit.

—Yes.

I moved my head down to get to her nipples.

—Be careful. Not too hard. They're tender.

There was something I needed to remember about that, but damned if I was going to try now. She started milking me, pulling and gently squeezing. Her legs moved higher on my back and her hips pushed up against me. I kept my weight off of her to allow her to move the way she wanted.

—I'm getting close.

—I'll wait until you're finished.

—Yes. Yes. Oh. Yes.

She bit into my shoulder and struggled to lift me with her hips.

—Now you. You.

Her hand went back to me and I was on my way. She forced every drop into her, running her fingers up to force it out of me.

—Oh God, we're a mess. Here, feel.

She took my hand again and held it against both of us.

—If that's any indication of what you've taken out of me, I'm going to be empty for a week.

—I'm sore, but it's a good sore. My stomach and hips are all achy. I need a pillow.

—You do remember that you were supposed to be throwing me out sooner rather than later.

—So you're blaming me for this?

—Well, yes. That's a man's job, isn't it?

—If it is, you've sure done it. Now I just want to lie here like a lump and enjoy what we just accomplished.

—I'm not leaving.

—Yes you are. You're going back to the club to do at least two things. One, you're going to pay back Vince. Two, you're ending it with Tammi. If there's a third, I'll leave it up to you.

I liked number three the best. No pressure.

TWENTY-EIGHT

**DAMN BUT I** had made some huge mistakes. I never learned, and if I did, it had to be the hard way. I was in the middle of it all over again, this time, waking up in Danielle's well-made bed. Would she turn out to be a different kind of problem, or more of the same?

What the hell was I doing, and where the hell was I going with all of it?

I'd trusted Kelly until I discovered the five keys of cartel coca stashed in her closet.

I hauled her friend Tammi—who turned out to be a reformed junkie not so reformed—out of that mess and got us both lost in El Lay's bright lights. That didn't last long

Both women turned out to be small-scale _chapulines_ , grasshoppers, going from place to place looking for customers. Except, they were selling stolen drugs. Not a good place to be these days.

I turned to face Danielle. She looked at me, waiting.

—You know, I was only trying to do that woman a favor. I figured on getting her out of Bombay Shores and away from whatever was going on with her friend Kelly.

I was looking for some sympathy, but I knew I wouldn't get much at this stage.

—Yes, but you tried to settle her down—and you with her. She isn't ready for that. By the sound of it, she's tweaking, too.

I got it, but it only made me feel guilty as hell.

—I think she's doing more than tweaking. What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm not her savior.

I had that figured out, at least.

—What do you mean, _more than tweaking?_

How could she know? She couldn't. Should I tell her?

—Well-

I hesitated.

—Don't hold back now. It's too late for that.

She shifted beneath the sheet and slid away, waiting for me to go on. It was too late. Wasn't I already in this one's bed?

—She's selling.

But that wasn't the main thing.

—So she's selling. Plenty do that with no problem.

While it was good to know that Danielle didn't have a problem with a little selling on the side, I knew once I told her how much product Tammi had her hands on, she wouldn't like it.

—Yeah. She's been unloading as much of a five key package of coca as she can at the club. Coca belonging to the Sinaloa cartel.

—How do you know that?

Here we go.

—Because of the picture of the nice scorpion glued to the package.

Danielle threw the sheet off and sat up. I couldn't help admiring her body. It was one that could take a lot of admiring and not get stale. I started to grin.

—What are you grinning at? You're shacked up with a woman selling stolen cartel coke. It's nothing to joke about.

—Yeah. No. I'm smiling at you naked beside me.

—You won't be smiling so much in a shallow desert hole in the ground with your body parts in a pile. The coyotes will be gathering round and howling over the fresh meat.

Cut up and parted out. I'd heard about that. I didn't much like the picture she painted.

—Maybe you're right and getting out of town is the thing to do.

Maybe? There was no doubt now.

—Before I allowed myself to get trapped in all of this my plan was to head home. Now I feel like going in an entirely different direction.

—Maybe it's time to go east.

—I'm too tired to think about it now. Is it all right if I stay here tonight?

—You already know the answer to that.

I slept like a log except for the one time I woke up. There was a softly snoring woman in her bed beside me. Now we were in the kitchen, and I had the counter between us. Danielle busied herself with breakfast.

—Has anyone ever told you that you snore?

Danielle moved into the fighting stance she had in the diner when she smacked the back of my head.

—I do not!

—Okay, maybe it's not snoring, exactly.

I knew when to change the subject.

–Something smells good. Are you making me breakfast?

Sometimes the obvious is the only way to a win.

—Breakfast? You should be so lucky. I turned the oven on. We'll see what comes out in a few minutes.

—Is it all right if I take a shower?

—I'll get us a towel.

—No you don't. You stay right here. I like my women in the kitchen full-time. And barefoot, too.

I had a shit-eater on my face so big I thought I'd topple over.

—The only thing missing from that is the pregnant part. Don't even think about it.

—I need to do some thinking and I can't think straight when we're in the shower together—in case you didn't notice last night.

Damned if she wasn't grinning right back at me. I went in and turned the water on full cold and took my time.

At least Kelly had been smart enough to keep her nose clean. It was obvious that Tammi had hers shoved so deep into the product she could barely draw a breath without the coke going straight up her nose. She was a doper. Even I couldn't deny that.

She must have been fresh out of rehab when we met in Bombay Shores. Twenty-eight days wasn't enough. At this stage, I didn't think there would be a rehab that would be long enough.

Buddy couldn't have realized what he was getting into when he got tangled up with Tammi. His death was unfortunate. Kelly might have thrown his ass out into the street, but it was Tammi who killed him when his usefulness to her ended.

I knew what I had to do. It had been staring me in the face since I rode to check out El Diablo. I got answers to the questions I asked, all right. I just didn't want to hear them.

Danielle brought me out of my reverie.

—I brought your bag in. It's by the door. You really did pack up last night. At first I thought you were just handing me a line.

—No, I'm past that now. I'm too exhausted to lie. In fact, I may never lie to you—and that's not a good thing for a man to tell a woman.

Danielle gave me a quizzical look, and I knew enough to change the subject.

—How are you feeling this morning?

—What do you mean?

—Last night you told me you were sore and tender.

—I feel really good. That pillow under my hips did the trick. My breasts are back to normal and I'm only a bit sore. Now stop asking questions, sit down, shut up, and eat.

—So then, you can cook?

She gently patted the back of my head. I almost winced before teasing her.

—Damn you, woman. That's twice.

—Give me half a chance and there'll most likely be a third.

—We'll just have to see about that.

I cleaned up the scrambled eggs and toast in record time. Just to show I wasn't a complete pig, I cleared the table and put the dishes in the sink.

—So tell me, who trained you?

—There was one or two.

—More like three or four if I know you.

There'd be no messing with this one. It was my turn to gently smack her on the back of the head.

—Tit for tat.

Danielle's smile turned serious.

—You were a long time washing away your sins. What did you decide?

—I've had a bellyful. I'm out. I'll ride over to the club and pay Vince what I owe him, and then I'm gone.

—I thought you were broke. I don't mean to pry, but where did you get the money?

I knew she meant to pry. What woman wouldn't when a confessed broke-ass biker came up with a large sum of cash?

—I discovered it sticking out from under a sofa cushion in the apartment. Call me a thief if you want, but it's staying in my pocket, just like the tips you talked me out of.

—It's none of my business.

I needed to hear that.

—I don't owe that woman anything. I helped her get away from one problem and she put both of us right back into one even worse. For some reason I was too naive to realize what the hell was going on. Call me a sucker, but the cash is mine. I'm keeping it.

Was I convincing myself, or was I trying to convince Danielle?

I crossed the border only a week ago. It felt like one hell of a lot longer. I had to get out of the time-suck that was happening to me in El Lay. I had to escape the bullshit of the past week before I became one of the bodies left behind.

The turmoil in my mind wasn't worth the time I devoted to it. The only problem was, I had no idea where I was going next.

Although—there was this little place I heard about from a biker when I was down Mexico way. It was out in the high desert, to the east. Maybe I'd check it out on my way through. There was something else I had to find out first.

—When I leave, will you ride with me?

I should have bit my tongue. I didn't want the question to scare Danielle off. Mostly, I didn't want to scare myself off. I waited a long time for an answer while the dishes in the sink got washed and dried and put away. Hell, this woman was an expert in procrastinating, too.

—Yes, I'd like to.

Finally. But there was another pregnant pause.

—Do I want to? I don't know. I'm settled here—or I was, until someone torched the diner.

It was obvious Danielle was agonizing over the decision. Hell, if she was smart, she'd kick me to the curb for getting her into all the shit she found herself suddenly swimming in.

—Everything that's gone on has me on edge. Meeting you. The club getting firebombed. The murder in the apartment. Even the diner last night. I don't know what to think.

—I understand. I'm the jinx that caused it all.

We both knew it.

—No, it's not like that. It's just—I don't know.

—Would you like some time?

—Yes. That's what I need.

I knew what I had to do. It wasn't my style to up and leave while I owed. First on the list would be repaying Vince the five hundred. Once I did that, I'd be free and clear. He could keep my salary. I didn't need it since finding the sofa cash.

I thought I just might head east, up into the hills. I could check out that place in the high desert. It would be new ground, maybe just what I needed to take my mind off my problems of the past week. New ground sometimes held new opportunities.

Would Danielle be coming with me? I had no idea. I liked her, there was no doubt about that. As well as I knew her, she seemed to be sensible. But just like the others, I didn't know much about her or her background—other than that she wasn't afraid to give me a healthy smack on the back of the head when I deserved it.

She was definitely a one-man woman. She had refused to let me hustle her that first night in La Bonita. Considering the last two women in my life, there was something to be said for that.

I had plenty of doubt about whether I could be faithful to one woman—even one that I cared for a lot. Certainly I couldn't use the last two as a springboard. What the hell had I known about them?

Whatever the outcome, I already knew I was going to give Danielle a chance if she'd let me.

I had nothing to lose.

TWENTY-NINE

**I SAID MY** goodbyes to Danielle and rode like the wind to make it to the club. No way could I skip out on Vince and leave him hanging for the advance I owed him. I was determined to repay him. I still didn't arrive fast enough to take the phone call Vince answered for me. I walked into the office as he was hanging up.

—That was Danielle. Jake, her ex, is beating on her door and yelling your name.

—What?

—You heard me. Let's go.

I couldn't let him do it. It was my problem, and it was my fault. I was the one that had to handle it if I was ever going to have anything with the woman.

—Thanks for the offer, but you don't have any skin in this. I need to do it alone.

All I needed was to get Vince involved in my mess. I figured it was bad enough that I was so deep into it I could barely breathe. I'd been holding my own nose for far too long.

—Are you sure?

I handed over the five hundred. He didn't even look at it.

—Do me a favor. Give Bull a call and tell him what's going on. See if he'll meet me a couple of blocks away from Danielle's at the diner.

If I could help it I didn't want to give her boyfriend any warning. The situation Danielle found herself in was all my fault. Jake already beat the shit out of her once. There'd be no telling what he'd do for an encore. I had to get to her.

I raced to the burned-out diner and parked in the empty lot. I paced back and forth, waiting for Bull. I thought about going it alone until I heard squealing tires announce his arrival.

—How do you want to handle this?

Bull was the expert, after all. My rescuing him from the walking fireball he became didn't hurt, either.

—We'd better walk. From what Vince told me, I don't know if this guy is just plain nuts or regular nuts. Have you considered calling the cops?

—No. It'll take them time to get here with a swat team. Let's go take a look.

—Frank, if he's got Danielle, he's crazy. How are we going to handle this?

He sounded as worried for Danielle as I was.

—We don't have a lot of time. He asked for me, so I guess I'm the guinea pig.

—That's all well and good, but we'd better scout the place before we do something stupid, don't you think?

—You're right.

We fast-trotted to the corner. Danielle's bike was parked in the driveway where it was last night.

—Give me your phone, Bull.

I punched in Danielle's number. I recognized Tammi's voice when she answered. I hung up.

—That was quick.

—Tammi is in on it. There's two of them—one crazy and the other strung out on drugs.

—How bad do you think it's going to be?

—Jake is jealous. He slashed Danielle's tires at the club and beat her up. I don't know how far he'll take it.

—What's he jealous of? Is there something you're not telling me? How do you know where Danielle lives? What the hell is going on?

Shit. Now Bull was the one asking questions.

—Can it wait until later? We have things we need to get done.

—What about Tammi?

—At best, she's tweaking. More likely she's completely run off the rails. There's no telling what she's capable of. I think she murdered Buddy, but I have no proof.

I had to get inside. I had to get Danielle out of there and away from those two crazies.

—I'm going around back to have a look. You stay in front in case someone comes out.

—No one will get by me if they've got Danielle.

Reassured, I climbed onto the back porch. The door creaked on its hinges and bumped against a chair in the empty kitchen. The jean jacket Danielle wore on our ride lay on the floor. Someone had cut it in half from top to bottom. I walked through the rest of the empty house and met Bull on the front lawn.

—Nothing. Nobody home.

A drug-addled woman and a jealous, angry ex could do a lot of damage to Danielle if they thought she was responsible for their problems. Given how they'd reinforce each other's beliefs about who was to blame, I had to get her away from those two crazies as fast as I could. Unfortunately, it was going to have to wait until I found them.

—What the hell? Where could they have gone?

—I have a pretty good idea. How would you like to meet me for a drink at the El Diablo?

—El Diablo? That dump? You think?

—I know. Here's what we're going to do.

Bull made for the rear of El Diablo from the alley parking lot. I remained out front to watch for things that might want to slither out. Men in a hurry bolted through the lobby and onto the sidewalk. The fire alarm blared through the open door. I pushed past going in the opposite direction.

Bull was at the bar by the time I made it through.

—You the one pulled the alarm?

He nodded.

—I hoped it would get us some results. Have you seen them? Are they even here?

—They've got to be here. Where else could they go?

I walked past the stage. The plastic shower stall lay in a broken pile of junk on the floor. A single overhead light shone down, illuminating a chair on the darkened stage.

What the hell? Was that Jake? A naked dancer, her back to the bar, leaned over a man sitting in the chair. In the shadow created by her body, the man's face was unrecognizable. The dancer's hips gyrated, forcing her crotch against the man's face.

Something wasn't right about that picture. It couldn't be part of a show. There was no music. Men weren't permitted onstage during a dance. A flash of light reflected from beneath the stage light, and someone I hadn't noticed moved towards center stage.

I yelled. Brandishing a knife, the woman whirled around and stumbled. The knife moved in unsteady circles.

—Frank!

The shit-eating grin pasted across Tammi's face turned into a scowl the minute she recognized me. Jake jumped off the chair and the naked dancer tumbled onto the floor.

Christ. Danielle. What else could possibly go wrong?

The overhead lights dimmed and Tammi's play-list boomed from the speakers across the room. I jumped up on the stage and made for the pile of bodies. I had to get Danielle out of there before she got hurt. Or worse.

I was only half-way up the steps to the stage when I witnessed Danielle's foot planted square into Jake's groin. He grunted, clutched at his balls, and took a bow. He crashed down on top of her. She gave him another one between the legs for good measure and struggled on her hands and knees to crawl out from under him. He stayed down and doubled over.

Tammi didn't look happy at the condition of her new partner in crime and drug dealing. She scowled and pointed the-bar's steel blade at Danielle while she advanced towards her. I put myself between the two of them and made a lunge for Tammi. She made an attempt to move out of the way, but it was no contest. She stumbled and tripped over her own feet and fell flat.

Like a turtle on its back, her arms and legs flailed. I made a grab for her wrist and twisted. She fought to keep control of the knife. She screamed in pained and let go of it. It fell out of her hand and dropped onto the floor. I released her and she curled up beside it.

I wasn't taking any chances. I kicked at the knife and it clattered across the stage before falling off the edge. Tammi looked up at me. Tears started and she began to sob incoherently. She struggled trying to breathe past the slobbering.

—Why wouldn't you listen to me? All you had to do was take me farther north like I wanted. None of this would have happened. You didn't listen. You never listen.

In between the sobbing and the shaking it was difficult to understand the words coming out of her mouth.

—It makes no difference.

—You didn't listen. Can't we forget everything and start over?

She actually believed that could happen. I had to set her straight. In her condition, I doubt she'd understand even simple English.

—That's not going to happen.

—Just the two of us. Please?

—Not now. Not ever. There's nothing left for us.

Danielle stood over her attackers, breathing rapidly, trying to catch her breath. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her give Jake another kick.

Where the hell had Bull gotten to? Then I saw him. The fireplug of a man had been busy holding back the bartender and a couple of the customers.

—Bull! Danielle needs your jacket.

I had to get her out of here, but damned if I was going to put her out into the street naked. I didn't expect what came next.

—That won't do, Frank. It's too short. Give me your shirt.

I handed it over and she looked at me, quizzically. She knew me well enough to know there was something on my mind. She looked pretty good covered in sweat and smeared makeup. Hell, she looked good without any makeup.

—I'd do you.

For my troubles, I earned an exasperated look.

—That's what's on your mind?

—Sort of.

—If you don't get me out of here you'll never do me again. Get a move on.

I took the hint. We hooked up with Bull and made our way out of the club.

It was all over for Tammi but the crying. She had a new patsy now. Jake would probably serve her faithfully until she could find another sucker. If he was lucky and smart, he'd get away with his life. Right now, he didn't seem so smart to me, but who was I to talk?

—What are we going to do with those two? Do you want the cops to get involved?

—I don't want anyone to get involved, Frank. I just want to get out of here and go home.

—Bull, take her out and put her on the back of my bike. Be sure she doesn't fall off when the adrenalin runs out.

It was time to lay down the law. I waited until Danielle disappeared. I didn't want her to know how I intended to solve the problem.

Jake began to crawl across the stage in an attempt to get away from what he must have known would be coming. I leveled a foot against his face. He went down on his stomach, just like Buddy had back in Bombay Shores.

He wasn't smart enough to stay down. He struggled to get onto his hands and knees. I planted another boot and that finished him. He halted his struggle and stayed on his stomach, gurgling and spitting teeth out of his bloodied mouth.

He made an attempt at talking, but I wasn't finished with the man just yet. For good measure, I made sure Tammi was watching as I smashed his head into the pole. I doubted she'd remember. She was stoned and out of it. Still, it felt pretty good.

Mission accomplished. Time to get the hell out before the cops showed up.

I remembered passing a door on my way into the club through the lobby. I made for it and discovered the broom closet and a mop that looked like it hadn't been used in forever. I returned to the bar and collected a pack of matches. I lit one and used it to ignite all of them.

I held the fire to the mop-head and waited until it caught. For good measure, I waited just a little longer before tossing everything into the closet. I made sure to leave the door slightly open.

Satisfied at the orange glow peeking out of the closet's open door, I left the El Diablo behind. There'd be no charge for the remodel.

Danielle didn't look so good sitting on the back of my bike. My shirt covered up the good parts. What wasn't covered was bruised and bloodied. Whoever did her makeup had smeared it across her face. In other words, she was one hot mess. She shook like there would be no tomorrow—but I knew different.

We both had a tomorrow.

I threw a leg over and she clung to me all the way to her place. I shut down in the driveway and leaned the bike over.

—Am I going to have to wipe that seat down after you slither off?

She smacked me so hard on the back of the head I thought I'd fall off the bike. By now the adrenalin was gone, and we started to laugh. All we had left was each other. I was just happy to be here.

—Damn you, woman. Don't ever do that again.

—Only when you deserve it.

—I wasn't talking about the head-smack. I was talking about your performance on stage. Who did your makeup?

She dropped the shirt and walked up the steps, naked. Not bad. I didn't make it a secret I was watching. When she got to the top she turned.

—Are you still packed and ready to go?

—Yes, I am.

—Give me a few minutes. I want to take a shower and make myself presentable again.

—Darlin', you're never not presentable. I was in back of you watching you climb those steps.

—I knew you were watching me when I climbed the steps to the diner too, remember?

She had me there. When Danielle came out of the bedroom, her bruises were covered with clothes. She even had a little makeup on. Very little.

—You clean up pretty good.

—I would have invited you to share the shower but I wasn't in the mood.

—That's all right. You don't have to make excuses.

—You were packed up before I was, Frank. Do you have any idea where you're headed?

—I heard about a little place out east off the 62. It's up the hill. I think I might hole up there for a while. What about you?

—I don't know. I can't stay here any more. I don't want to go back to the Bonita. I can't go to the diner. It's gone, too.

—First off I'm headed out to Arizona for a few days. I'm going to pick up a houseboat from a friend and spend a few days floating out on the river. You're welcome to come—no strings.

—I think I'd like to float down a river with not a care in the world. How long will you wait for me?

—I'll wait until you get there. Or we can ride together. Whatever you want to do.

—I'll need a day or so to clean up some things. Where are you going to be?

I gave her the number for the boat outfit and we said our goodbyes.

Riding lonesome

**I TURNED OFF THE TEN** and took the exit east to the 62. I climbed through the valley past the drab, brown three-thousand feet towards the high desert and a town called Buena Vista. On the outskirts I crossed paths with a diner. I had an affinity for those things. A mom-and-pop atmosphere and good food usually went together. If not, it was still pretty hard to screw up coffee and pie.

I didn't notice it from the street right off, but there was a bike shop attached to it. Someone had hand-painted Vista Cycles on the outside wall. No neon.

A gruff, white-haired old man sitting by himself in a booth yelled something that didn't make any sense. I ignored him and made for the counter.

The name tag said Susan. She was a short little redhead with long hair, a ready smile and a pretty face. We joked a bit before she passed my order to the cook. Christ, what happened with the old man? He had to be the only sourpuss in the place.

When I paid up, Susan mentioned the place next door had some old bikes on display. I walked over to check it out. By then the old-timer had relocated his wrinkled fat ass and planted it in a decrepit wooden chair.

Something told me I needed to beat a path past the miserable excuse for a man in a hurry and get to the door. On the way out I spied the help-wanted posters. One was for a clothing manager and another for something called a ride coordinator—whatever the hell that was.

At the counter I got a long-winded explanation from a name-tag that said Jack. I didn't mind so much any more. I suddenly had plenty of time. He finished and handed me an application.

I figured I didn't know anything about clothes except for what I was wearing. On the other hand, a ride coordinator sounded just about my speed.

Better yet, the job was part-time.

I filled out the paperwork and left my friend's phone number in Bluewater. If anyone thought I was qualified, they could reach me there. Then I forgot all about it.

Before I pulled out of the parking lot, I hesitated for only a moment. The road was clear. Traffic was virtually non-existent. Without another thought, I pulled onto the highway and headed east, towards the Colorado.

It was time for something new.

THIRTY

**A FAMILIAR VOICE** called my name over the bike shop's PA system. I picked up the phone. I didn't get a chance to say a word.

—Go back to where you came from or I'll chase you back with a .45.

The phone went dead. I held onto it for a good twenty or thirty seconds before placing it back in the receiver. I was upstairs in the temporary office where I sometimes worked in the small, old-school bike shop.

The chair scraped as I pushed back from the desk. My face must have turned white, because Patsy asked what was wrong. Before taking the time to reply, I tried a dial-back on the number. It went to busy. No number came up.

So much for the antiquated phone system in this miserable, dust-blown excuse for a business. After making my way out of El Lay, I settled in the middle of a dusty high-desert sand pit that somehow managed to survive into the '70s. The only trouble with that was that it was the twenty-first century.

I tried retrieving the number a second time and came up with nothing again. I gave it up as a lost cause.

—Don't take this the wrong way, but someone just threatened my life.

How the hell else could Patsy take it?

—Are you going to call the police?

It was a question, but it came out as though that should be my next logical, common-sense step. And it would have been, but for one small problem. I was on the run. I made my way out of the big city and its bright lights in a hurry when circumstance piled on and I narrowly escaped a murderous woman and the new boyfriend in her life.

I say new, because I was the old she wanted dead. Well, okay, I was the old boyfriend who just happened to have pissed the woman off by having a new girlfriend.

It was complicated.

Instead, I made an executive decision and let Patsy know I must have misheard the person on the other end of the line. She looked at me, waiting, and I promised her I had no enemies I knew about. She took me at my word, and went back to concentrating on her spreadsheets in an ongoing attempt to locate missing bike-shop cash.

In the meantime, I grabbed a breath of fresh air out in the parking lot and called an old biker friend. Snuffy was an ex-cop and ex-firefighter from Torrance. He'd been been riding motorcycles all his life. Old-time biker that he was, the man had answers for everything.

I made a try at explaining as best as I could. He convinced me to hang up and come up the hill for an air bath out on his patio. He'd make the tea while he waited. Damned if Snuffy was the only local I knew who offered tea. Some might have a problem with that. I didn't. Besides, I'd become accustomed to it by now.

—It sounds to me like you've got a snoot-full of trouble.

Snuffy didn't like to waste words when a few would do.

—Well, considering that I don't drink, I'd say you're right about the trouble.

—Maybe you should start.

Maybe I should at that.

—Hell, Snuffy, all I wanted to do was get my ass out of the city on my way to a new life. I should have known I wouldn't be able to run. I should have stayed and handled it.

—Maybe the phone call isn't related to your business in the city. Maybe it's more about what's going on down at the shop.

—You could be right about that. I'll have to do some thinking on it.

—Until you get it sorted out, I've got something for you.

He disappeared into the main house and returned with a well-worn holster. It wasn't empty. He sat down and looked at me and grinned before handing over the package.

—When's the last time you were at a range?

—Here? Never.

He got up and headed for his van.

—Come on. I'm driving. There's one just down the road.

By the sound of it, Snuffy knew a lot more about what was going on at the bike shop than he admitted. He'd once been friends with the owner until they parted ways only recently. Still, I wanted him in the loop where I was concerned. I figured if I left anything out, he'd let me know.

—Sonny's been bangin' the hired help. His latest is that tall, skinny dish-water blonde bitch who does F&I. The problem is, she's taken to spying on all the employees and reporting back to the boss.

That was no surprise. I'd seen the two of them often enough with their heads together, talking shop like a couple of lovers.

—I heard.

Sonny asked me to do the same. I had to turn him down. Who the hell wants to be a tattletail weasel? I figured my days were numbered after refusing, but for some reason he kept me on.

—Well, Sonny's got some fluff on the side now, and Karla knows about it, apparently. For spite, she went out and banged one of his employees. The poor guy is only a kid. He's been telling everyone who'll listen—and some who won't—all about it.

—That's a new one on me.

Snuffy's forehead wrinkled when the grin overcame his entire face.

—Yeah, apparently the kid bought wine and flowers and shit to make it a real romantic deal. It sounds to me like the poor guy didn't know that he could have dispensed with spending all that romance money on the woman. Someone should have told him he could of done her in the bathroom.

—You're cold.

We cackled like women gossiping on someone else's front lawn.

—Sometimes the truth hurts. So the kid's blabbing, and Sonny overhears him the one time he comes out of his office and doesn't go straight home, and the shit hits the fan.

Man, did it ever hit. It covered all of us—me the most, it seemed. I knew it first-hand.

—The rest of the staff have about had a bellyfull of Karla. With all of her spying and lies and fake goodwill she's lording the fact that she's banging the boss over the rest of us.

Snuffy only nodded. He'd heard it all before. So I do him one better and passed on a gem.

—And then Sonny starts banging another one of his employees, and it gets crazy from there.

—No shit. Which one?

He sat up in his lawn chair and eyed me. I couldn't keep him waiting. I was too eager to tell the tale.

—Annie-Mae. The bookkeeper. At least, I think she's a bookkeeper.

Snuffy's grin turned into one of astonishment.

—Her? She's the plain-looking thing, isn't she? Trailer trash dumber than a box of hammers?

—Yeah. That one. The other dishwater blonde. The little short one with the stubby legs and no tits.

—Well I'll be damned.

—One tall. One short. Just to balance things out, I guess. An equal opportunity employer.

—Yeah, you're missing all the fun since you stopped coming in for breakfast first thing in the morning.

It was true. I used to meet up with Snuffy for breakfast at the diner first thing when it opened. We'd get all caught up and then he got smart and deserted the cause. Lately I had to sneak off down the street to Carrows to gossip over breakfast.

The gun range showed up in the windshield. Snuffy parked in the shade and the dust settled. I grabbed the holster off the front seat and we stopped at a table. He handed me the pistol. I flipped open the cylinder for a final check. It was empty.

—Ruger. Five-shot. No hammer. This is nice. It looks brand-new.

I had to admit, it was compact. It didn't weigh much empty. It had a good feel to it, too. I pointed downrange and squeezed the trigger on the empty cylinder. It had a light pull.

I knew by the twinkle in Snuffy's eyes that there was more.

—It'll take .38s or .357s.

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of .38s before handing them over. I loaded five and double-handed the revolver. I squeezed off two, then two more, and saved one for last.

—Nice.

I let the last one go and the man pulled a handful of .357s out of the other pocket. It didn't take long to put them through. I noticed the bigger kick right off. The short barrel, no doubt.

—I'll take the pocket with the .357s. It's just a stronger round.

—Close in is the best you'll do with that short barrel. It's not much for accuracy past 20-odd feet.

—That's no problem. If I have to use it, I'll be shaking so bad I won't be able to hit a wall anyway.

—Yeah, I hear that all right. It was the same with me.

Snuffy's only fee was the time I spent filling him in on what the hell was going on in the shop. Sometimes, I wondered too, but I didn't let on.

We jaw-jacked back and forth telling lies until both of Snuffy's pockets were empty and I was out of ammunition. On the drive back to the house, he offered up some advice.

—You're right-handed. Keep the spares in your left pocket. That way you can flip the cylinder, eject, and reload a little quicker and smoother.

I looked at him and wondered how he knew until I remembered he was a former cop.

—Thanks. I'll do that.

—No you won't. If you need more than five rounds, chances are you'll be running in the opposite direction faster than you can reload.

He grinned across the seat at me.

—If you're smart, that is.

THIRTY-ONE

**DANIELLE WAS WAITING** at the bike shop, impatient and handing me stink-eye when I walked in. She couldn't wait to let me know we'd be taking some time away.

—We're heading out to the river for the weekend. I arranged the time off for both of us. I thought you might like to get away for a day or two.

We had already agreed that no one needed to know we were a thing. We thought it for the best until we got our sea legs around the shop and learned who we could trust with our romance. If she wasn't careful, she would blow our cover, and I let her know.

—So you just announced to everyone that you were banging me. Way to go.

There was no harm in reminding her.

—I thought we agreed not to.

She gave me the look reserved for when she thought I was being a jackass.

—Oh for crying out loud. Get over yourself. I filled in your name on the time-off sheet. It's not difficult to fake a scrawl.

So maybe it wasn't such a big deal. I wondered if Patsy might have pulled any of the others aside and filled them in about the phone call that threatened my life. She was the only other person who knew about it, outside of Danielle. The place was a gossip-maker's dream.

I decided to bring Danielle up to speed with concerning my visit to Snuffy's. She liked him a lot, too, and considered him a friend. Besides, she needed to know I wasn't unprepared.

I let her know I was armed. The hammerless Ruger fit nice and tight under my belt against my stomach. The long shirt made it invisible. That the woman was no dummy was one of the things I liked about her. She reached for my belt. I slapped her hand away and she touched air.

—Gun or knife?

The shirt concealed my Buck 110, as well, strapped to my belt and over the edge of my back pocket. There was no sense in getting caught short-handed.

—Both. And no, you can't see. No one needs to know.

Danielle turned out to be the other woman in my all-to-short El Lay adventure. She was a server at the peeler bar who volunteered an ear for my sad tale of woe. When it came to my turn, I listened to her own sad tale. That she rode her own was a plus in my book.

—Did I tell you I reserved a boat with your friend in Bluewater? I hope you don't mind.

She definitely had me pegged.

—You told me that already. I'm not senile. Yet. When are we leaving?

That's how much I minded.

—I'm done at four.

—I'll make arrangements. If we pack in a hurry we can ride across and be there just after dark.

We stopped for food basics before riding out across the flat, dusty expanse in the evening heat. We ran into dark at the state line. Even that didn't cool the hot night air right off until we said our hellos to my old friend with the pontoon boat on the Colorado.

We spent a few minutes catching up while Danielle emptied saddlebags and loaded groceries onto the boat. She fired up the engines before tossing the lines and sounding the horn. She flipped switches and lights came on.

—This ship is sailing. Climb aboard, sailor, or get left behind.

Her grin said I shouldn't doubt it for a minute. I jumped on board as she slowly advanced the throttles and eased us away from the wharf. She'd taken to the huge boat on our last foray, and I was secretly pleased.

—Damn, woman, are you in a hurry or what?

—We've got two days. I don't want to burn daylight.

—That's hard to do when it's already dark, girl.

On the water the river was calm, the current slow. The water helped to lower the temperature from the hot and high we experienced riding across. It all came together to turn the day into a perfect night.

Using the full moon to navigate, Danielle took us into a small, shallow bay we'd discovered the last time we were on the water. She dropped anchor. The pontoon boat drifted on the chain and halted. She stripped and dived naked into the shallow water. I followed and mostly dog-paddled while she slowly floated by on her back, teasing me into following her.

We climbed aboard and stood arm-in-arm, overlooking the river on the upper deck. Danielle slipped away and returned wearing a thin summer dress to cover her perfect body. She handed me a pair of shorts. A full moon and a slight breeze stirred just strong enough to lift the skirt, revealing everything.

—Nice view.

—You know it, mister.

—Yes, I do. And I want to know it even better. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.

—There's something I have to tell you.

I already knew it was never good when that phrase passed a woman's lips.

We stayed out on the upper deck, arm-in-arm, wordlessly looking out over the water illuminated by the moon. Danielle's lips brushed my cheek. She lowered her head to nuzzle my neck.

Whatever was coming, I was ready. I kept her close and waited. The words finally left her lips. There were only two of them.

—I'm pregnant.

The woman didn't beat around the bush. Now I knew why the sore nipples and achy hips she told me about back in El Lay sounded so familiar. At the time, I hadn't given it a second thought. Now, it was about to turn into all I could think about.

—Danielle-

—I'm not happy about it, but it's not why you think. I'm actually worried about what's going on at the shop. If that asshole comes after me, I don't want you to get in the way. Or anyone else, for that matter.

I had to let her go on.

—About Florida—

And then changed my mind.

—Let's talk about it tomorrow. We've got two days on the water.

—Then let's not waste them. We need to get this boat rocking.

The comforting sound of water slapping excitedly against the rock-and-rolling pontoons mimicked our raucous lovemaking. Eventually we were lulled into sweaty, exhausted sleep by that same sound, it having quieted minus our fevered activity.

Morning looked like it would be a good day on the water. The sun was rising beneath blue sky and over water an even deeper blue. A slight, cool breeze circulated throughout the huge pontoon boat.

I eased out of bed quietly and opened windows and doors to accommodate the breeze. In the tiny galley I prepared a breakfast of scrambled eggs to be accompanied by fresh fruit and juice. I left it to nudge Danielle awake. Her eyes opened and she smiled before stretching languidly beneath the sheet and throwing it off.

—I think I might keep you.

—You probably say that to all the boys that cook you breakfast. In the meantime, you'd better tell me what you were going to say about Florida before you lifted your skirt for me last night.

She couldn't halt the grin.

—Don't let it go to either of your heads, but I lifted it for me, too.

The time away from the goings-on at the bike shop relaxed Danielle. She went on about the dive school her parents owned, making the business sound popular. It was getting to be more than they could handle alone. They wanted her to come home and take it over. For the first time she was seriously considering it.

—I know absolutely nothing about diving. You have eight months to teach me.

Obviously pleased, she smiled.

—Before you give me an answer to that, you'll need to know that you're going to have to teach me to swim, too.

The grin didn't break. Either the woman was a good actor, or she meant it.

—So that's a yes?

—How many ways are there to say yes?

—Not enough. Now get back in bed.

—Breakfast is getting cold.

—In that case, there's no sense in getting up to eat, is there?

I couldn't disagree. I tugged the sheet off the bed and stared at the naked woman in bed on a pontoon boat. Before long, by mutual consent, we soon had it mimicking last night's fevered rocking.

Danielle slept in my arms, but already in my mind I was back at the shop, where someone wanted to chase me out of town with a gun. I had a pregnant girlfriend who worked with me in the bike shop. We had a bike-shop owner's son who chased after his female employees like the serial sexual predator he was.

What could go wrong with that?

I resolved to get my shit together as quick as I could and ride east with Danielle in tow. There was something about a dive shop on the laid-back Florida keys that appealed to my sensibilities.

Not that a man threatening to run me out of town with a gun didn't help.

I steered the pontoon monstrosity to the dock and we packed up. We loaded the bikes together. I went inside to thank my friend for the loan of his boat.

—Next time, I'll be happy to pay.

—That would be all right, too.

We grinned back and forth until his head tipped in Danielle's direction.

—You think she's the one?

I didn't have to think about it.

—If she wants to be.

—Then don't let this one get away.

All I could do was nod.

—I'll be seeing you next time.

We returned to the shop and the same old. While the away time might have felt like it lasted much longer, neither of us expected any change over a couple of days.

Sonny's chest continued to stick out at having two women to bang. Every time he stood up he almost tipped over and fell on his face. The funny thing about Lulo, the man's wife, was that she didn't seem to mind. Go figure.

Putting up with her husband's shenanigans had not been kind to Lulo. Sonny's constant womanizing put the woman on countless diets. Her weight would balloon, and she'd brag about going on a diet. More than once, she would announce a three-pound loss, and that was the end of the diet.

I was privy to plenty of bike shop secrets. Perhaps it was because I could keep my mouth shut. I listened when someone had a story to tell. I never gossiped. I never told stories out of school. When I got invited to ride with the guys, I let someone else lead and I brought up the rear of the pack.

Sonny's father, Te bike shop owner, was a huge asshole who liked bullying his employees. On a regular basis he'd pick one out and harangue the shit out of him until he found another victim he thought he might like better. The hateful old bastard was a tireless bully, which meant he was a chicken-shit most of all.

He liked to brag about his war exploits. I had a hard time believing any part of it. I figured he must have shit his pants so often that he stopped wearing them, and the braggadocio was his cover.

My eyes managed to widen even more on the day I caught Karla in close quarters with a stranger. In fact, the quarters were so close it looked like he was dry-humping her. I was about to interject myself, until I saw the smile on the woman's face. Apparently, she didn't mind being dry-humped in the middle of the shop by a man who wasn't her husband.

I changed direction, but not fast enough. Karla pointed me out to the man, and he pushed off and made time in my direction. I held my ground. I knew what was coming.

—You're still here.

It was a statement, not a question. I didn't know who it was coming from. I had my suspicions, though.

—Yes, I am.

I parted my shirt with a purpose, and it wasn't to show off my fat six-pack abs. The man's eyes caught sight of the handgun's grip sticking out ever so delicately over the top of my belt. He did a quick 180 and scrambled out the door so fast he was almost a blur. I followed and watched as he tore the door to his truck open, jumped in, and slammed it shut.

That truck about burned off the back tires as it screeched out of the parking lot in a cloud of smoking rubber. I made sure to wave the middle finger, hoping he was checking his six in the mirror as he squealed onto the main drag without stopping.

It was a nice feeling to know that I could make a man disappear in a hurry. I had to wonder if the episode might come back to bite me in the ass.

THIRTY-TWO

**I STRUGGLED TO** continue to care about my job in the bike shop. My greater concern was for Danielle and the baby we had coming. The small high desert town we were stuck in, while distant from the Salton Sea, was still far from desirable as far as I was concerned.

I only wanted to put it all in my rear-view, but for the money the job put in my pocket. Convincing Danielle to make good an escape with me might not be so easy. Her family dive shop business concerned me, too. Hell, I couldn't even swim. Added to that, I didn't know squat about diving or running a business and it only compounded the problem as far as I was concerned.

I kept picturing myself as a diver's weight belt, good for only one thing, and that was dragging the business down. In that case, perhaps I knew more than I admitted, because it wasn't far from the truth.

Danielle didn't seem to mind. That was one more reason why I put my faith in her. If she thought I'd be able to help, it was all good with me.

It was difficult to stay interested in the constantly complaining owners. They were the ones raking in all the cash at the expense of sexually harassed female employees and the kids paid peanuts to work there.

Women talked. Any man that knows anything about women, knows that. Almost all of the women around the shop knew that Sonny was a sexual predator. The new ones usually found out by word of mouth. He liked to use the _get to know new employees_ line, and that was when he invited them to meet for a family dinner down the hill.

The lucky ones drove themselves with husband or boyfriend. The unlucky ones allowed Sonny to drive them. He would apologetically explain how Lulo, his wife, wouldn't be able to make it. That was how the excuse for a man operated with all the new ones.

The bike shop's latest service manager was young and tall and married. Her husband worked a lot of hours at his job, and was hardly ever home. The young woman made no bones about letting me know that Sonny had been inviting her out for a company dinner. She explained how she made it plain to the man that her husband wouldn't be able to accompany her.

That didn't stop Sonny. Prick that he was, he refused to take no for an answer. He went into full predator mode, becoming even more aggressive and insistent. Eventually, against better judgment, the woman ended up going along with him. A week later she started showing up at work dressing a little better and wearing makeup, a complete makeover for the woman.

Pity the woman who made the mistake of not bringing her husband, or boyfriend, or of not going in her own car. If she accepted Sonny's ride, it was definitely her turn in the batter's box.

Married or single, they were all the same to Sonny. He didn't pick sides. If the woman refused his advances, or even if she didn't, eventually she'd be laid off. He gave this dirty work to Fred, the general manager.

How he got away without his ass being sued off, I never found out.

Another of Sonny's favored tactics was to pay for performance. Karla ended up getting a ten grand annual bonus for her enthusiastic efforts on behalf of Sonny. The losers like Annie-Mae would get five thousand. Most of the time, his conquests ended up with nothing but their hourly rate.

Of course, I didn't know any of this first-hand. I only learned about it from some of the women who took me into their confidence and let me in on what was going on.

Thanks to them, it got me thinking that Danielle's turn with Sonny would be coming around soon enough. We'd never made it plain that we were a thing. We liked it that way. No one asked us silly questions. We played at being friendly, so the gossip probably made the rounds, but we kept our hands off of one another in the shop.

Even though we talked around it happening, we hadn't discussed what she, or I, would do. We decided to leave it up to Sonny to set the agenda.

A boys night out came up. We did them occasionally, when wives or girlfriends gave the okay. We'd play snooker and drink beer and smoke and tell lies about women we knew, and more lies about some we didn't or would like to.

Danielle's name was mentioned. I kept my mouth shut and listened. Nobody looked my way. Some of the comments were about her on-the-job abilities. A lot were about her good looks. I went along and agreed, but I kept it to myself that she looked even better beneath the sheets.

I bummed smokes and had a couple of beers and shot a few games, but it turned out to be a pretty tame night. By dark, most of the guys made excuses and split for home and waiting wives or girlfriends. Only the die-hard partiers remained behind. I did, too, just because I wanted to.

Come midnight, I asked the bartender to call a cab. I went outside to escape the cigarette smoke and the loud music. Maybe waiting in the dim-lit alley was a mistake, but I didn't think so at the time.

The unlit alley concealed the men too well. They came out of the dark and were on me in an instant. Unrecognizable as they were, it didn't take much to recognize the glint of sharp steel coming off the knife. Aimed at my stomach, I knew it would do damage if I allowed it to connect.

I stumbled back, and number two grabbed my arms and hung on. I rolled to the side, taking both of us, and ducked. The knife missed my mid-section and glanced off a rib.

The feeble attempt at a follow-through was a tough go with my arms pinned. I managed a kick at the knife hand as it went by. There was no time for congratulations when I connected. I turned again and wrestled out of the second man's grip. An elbow doubled him over and I was done. I ran like hell out of the alley and into the back of the arriving cab.

I pressed a hand against my side and held on. I didn't want to bleed all over the back seat. I took a quick look beneath my hand, but there was too much blood. I could only hope the blade didn't get a chance to dig in and do serious damage. Danielle wasn't going to be happy at the prospect of having to worry even more about my situation with the guy who threatened to run me out of town.

It had to be him. More likely, it had to be some of his friends, trying to run me off. I figured since I let him see the handgun tucked away in my belt, he decided to stay out of it and let someone else do the talking. Or, in this case, the stabbing.

I didn't think I'd end up wrong about that. I also didn't think Danielle would want to stay around much past payday once she finished bandaging my side.

I was wrong about one thing. Danielle took one look at my bleeding rib cage and ordered me to get on the kitchen table. She hauled out a battered first aid kit from somewhere and proceeded to wrap me in bandages. She hummed while she did it, too. I wasn't quite sure how to take that.

—Well, we were right.

Oh-oh.

—We were? About what?

—Sonny called while you were out getting stabbed.

I had to remind her it was a night out with the boys. A lot of good it did.

—He must have overheard the guys talking about going to the bar. Do I have to ask what he wanted?

—Nope. We got it right.

Sure, we'd discussed it. What we hadn't talked about was what Danielle would do when Sonny made his pass.

—Are you going to go?

Like I needed to ask the question.

—Yes, I am. And I'm going with a recorder.

Already I knew trying to talk her out of it would be impossible. I hadn't known the woman for long, but I knew once she made up her mind, she didn't change it, right or wrong. That she was more than a little stubborn came to mind, but I didn't need to say it.

—Tell me what the pervert said.

I had to give her credit for knowing how to look after herself. Even so, Sonny, the experienced predator that he was, probably had more than a few tricks in his bag.

—It was the dinner-with-the-wife-to-get-to-know-you spiel. According to word around the shop, that's the line he always uses. We know how that goes down.

We did, and it ended with Sonny explaining that his wife couldn't make it because of something going on with their two kids. Lies, all of it, but it worked for Sonny. It made me think that perhaps his wife was his enabler.

—Are you sure you want to go through with this? Can we at least talk about it before you do something you might regret?

I had to say it, even though I knew it was a done deal.

—My mind is made up. When I'm finished with that asshole, he's going to pay out or go down. And I don't mean down on me.

I liked the pay or go down part. But I didn't like that Danielle would be subjecting herself to Sonny's advances. I didn't want to dwell on the danger. I wanted to know what she was going to use for a wire. I wanted to know what she'd do when she went with him down the hill.

—I've got it all figured out. I even know what I'm going to wear when the time comes. The only thing I haven't decided on is if you'll be there in case I need help. Extricating myself from the mess that's going to go down in the parking lot of that shitty steak house might be more than I bargained for.

I was glad to hear her admit it. The place he took all of his victims was once a renowned eatery. At one time it been the place to go, but its blue velvet interior was tired and dated. Old people ate there. How modern could that make it?

Danielle knew I'd back her up if she needed it. In fact, I'd already rescued her once when I pulled her naked ass out of that seedy strip club. I had no compunction about doing it again.

—When you make up your mind how it's going to go, I'll be all ears.

But would she tell me? I had my doubts.

—The only thing I have to decide is which one of my tits that asshole is going to get to see.

Now I knew she was serious. I didn't get to see either of them for a couple of days after we first met. She caught me grinning.

—I know what you're thinking. I knew you'd be trouble the instant I saw you looking at me.

I couldn't argue with that.

THIRTY-THREE

**MY BIGGEST PROBLEM** turned out to be convincing Danielle to ride to the scene of the crime. I tried to convince her we needed to scope out the restaurant's parking lot. She wouldn't take my suggestion seriously.

—It's for your own safety. You don't want to be out there without a plan. If you must know, I don't want you out there with no plan.

—You're overthinking it.

But I wasn't, and she'd never convince me otherwise.

—Do you want to be riding aimlessly around the lot looking for a place to park? Or would you rather drive into the lot and go right to where you want to be?

I paused to give her a chance to think about it.

—What if the best spot is occupied? What's the alternative? What's your third choice?

She rolled her eyes like we were back in high school. Come to think of it, that's pretty much how the dealership operated, with its tattletale employee and owner's son trying to screw the female help.

—You're not going to ride down the hill in a dress. Where are you going to change? If Sonny arrives just as you pull into the lot, do you want to be riding around looking for a parking spot where you can do the deed? Or would you rather have him follow you to plan A?

She didn't respond right away. I wanted to grab her and give her a shake. Finally, she agreed.

—All right. We'll go.

—Thank you. You won't regret it.

I shut up before she changed her mind.

The plan was to look for an area in the lot that was dark and inviting enough that Sonny would want to follow her. We arrived to discover the restaurant's huge parking lot, much bigger than we imagined. It was wide open but broken up by trees and shrubs.

We parked and walked the lot separately, finally meeting up at a location surrounded by fence and tall, thick bushes on two sides. It appeared ideal. The site backed onto a fenced motel lot. The fence would do double duty by blocking the view and keeping it shaded from the motel's night lighting.

—You can't hide it, can you?

—Nope. Great minds think alike. That corner is the one. We can leave now.

—Are you sure? Maybe we should check out the inside.

Danielle shook her head almost too fast.

—Not a chance. I don't want anyone saying, _Back again so soon?_ That'll surely put a crimp in the operation.

We saddled up and pulled out onto Piñon, headed north. I worried about how Danielle would handle Sonny. He wasn't big man, but he was taller than she was, and stronger, too. She'd handled Jake on the dance floor of the El Diablo, but this was something else.

I had to get her talking about how she planned to handle the man. If she even had a plan. The way this was coming together was starting to make me more than a bit uncomfortable.

I waved to her and she rode on ahead before we got to Buena Vista. There was no sense alerting the troops that we might be hanging out after-hours. The gossip mongers would have a field day with that little bit of intel.

Just before the crest of the hill a blip and flashing blues forced me to the side of the road. I shut down and stayed on the bike, just like every other biker before me. I left my hands in plain sight on the handlebars. I didn't want to be seen tempting fate.

The usual inanities came out of the cop's mouth. I handed over the papers and sat back to wait. When he returned, I almost did a double take when I spied the name tag on his uniform shirt.

—I heard you're the guy that got the threatening phone call.

That was news to me, considering I had never reported it. In fact, I'd never reported anything to a cop, ever.

—I don't know anything about that. Am I free to go?

He handed over my papers and I left for the bike shop. Something was going on that I wasn't a party to. By now I figured I knew who the loudmouth was, and how this guy got the story.

Hell, maybe he was the story.

I took a seat by the pie rack, my regular place at the diner's counter. Susan was on duty, a short, sweet little thing with red hair, a ready smile, and a hearty laugh. We got along well in the small restaurant. She liked to gossip and I liked to listen. Susan was my go-to to get caught up on the trials and tribulations of the bike shop's employees.

She gave me a warm greeting, and I knew something was coming up. Before long, she was taking delight in telling me how she'd divorced her old man. In the process, she explained that she ended up the proud possessor of most of the man's construction equipment as part of the settlement. Every time she needed a little extra cash, she'd sell another piece of equipment and grin on the way to the bank.

I wanted to ask what her old man had done that she ended up with everything. Instead, I gave her a high five. I figured she'd tell me when she wanted to.

The diner was done in a '50s style, with a counter and stools in fronting grill. Booths lined the opposite wall, where there was an entrance to a patio with tables. It wasn't huge, but the place was popular and a destination in itself with the biker crowd. Locals too came to enjoy the good food.

The cooks were what made the place, of course. But for the one woman slipping cash from the till into her pocket, there was a steady stream of them, and they all were pretty competent. The servers did for the rest with a steady stream of banter, both for the regulars and those stopping in from out of town.

The one thing that made the diner uncomfortable was Pappy, the hate-filled, senile old owner of the restaurant attached to the bike shop. The miserable excuse for a man would come in first thing in the morning at 7 a.m. when the diner opened.

He'd take up the regular spot in his booth and scream at Susan for spending too long with the customers, or not long enough. She laughed too loud. She walked too slow. The hate-filled old bastard could never get his story straight. It was one of the many things that made him the laughingstock of the business.

It got so bad, even the local police stopped showing up for lunch. It occurred to me that the captain might have gotten some complaints about Sonny's sexual proclivities concerning the women in the shop. It wouldn't surprise me that more than one could have complained.

Pappy liked regaling anyone who would listen with the story of how he had retired in the high desert to open a bike shop. He needed something to do, he said. He took his business to a local bank. Before long, Annabelle, a teller, caught the fish out of water. She had the hateful old man reeled in hook, line, and sinker before she left the bank for greener pastures as Pappy's wife.

She took over the day-to-day running of the bike shop by hiring up a bunch of people sympathetic to her plight. Given the uselessness of the old man, I couldn't blame her. By the time I arrived, the place was being run into the ground, and the greener pastures didn't last long. Employee theft, cash loans to employees, liars and cheats were all doing their damnedest to push the business over the edge.

Pappy finally got smart, something he wasn't known for, and brought in his son. Sonny took over the day to day running of the place as it teetered on the edge of bankruptcy.

Before long, Annabelle, the wife, was gone. Sonny was banging Karla. The old man kept up his crazy, simple-minded tirades against any employee that would listen to him. Unfortunately, there were more than a few that needed the job and the steady income to feed their families, and thus were forced to put up with it.

Eventually, Sonny came to see the place as a smorgasbord of female employees to take advantage of, and I'm sure Karla saw the same once she ran her hand up his thigh and discovered the size of his pencil dick. She tried that with me shortly after I discovered the place. I was glad now that I'd taken her hand away and placed it on her own thigh.

To keep the peace, I gave her a squeeze and told her not now. Like that would ever happen. As long as she thought it might was all right with me.

Perhaps the saddest part of it, or the most terrifying, depending on one's position, was that Karla's husband was the cop that pulled me over. Surely he couldn't be the one that made the phone call.

Or could he?

THIRTY-FOUR

**QUITTING TIME. I** pulled out of the parking lot and nicked into second gear. I twisted the throttle and was well on my way to third as a black half-ton went around me in the outside lane. I couldn't say I was unprepared.

The truck's turn signal was showing a left turn, an impossibility in the traffic bearing down from the opposite direction. As I suspected he pulled in front of me. I covered the front brake like I was in El Lay traffic while I used the rear and reduced throttle to help bleed off speed.

The truck's brake lights flashed and instantly went solid, like the driver changed his mind. At almost the same instant, I grabbed a handful of front brake and stomped on the rear.

Motorcycles are lighter than other vehicles. They tend to stop quicker when both brakes are applied and the tires don't lock up. Locking up tires on a big, heavy bagger was not easy. The last time it happened, I was on a fresh-painted traffic line when I was forced to brake. My front wheel locked and skidded briefly until I could lighten my grip.

Not so this time. Dry pavement and judicious application of practiced panic braking maneuvers saved my ass. Well, okay, that, luck, and horseshoes weighing me down would be my guess as to why I missed out on the road rash.

The hothead in front of me jumped out of the truck without closing the door. Before I could get the kickstand down, he was on me with a flying tackle. My ride tipped and I rolled off and pulled up my feet before it fell onto its side. So much for the new paint.

I barely avoided the falling bike as I wrestled with the dumbass wanting to beat the shit out of me. I managed a quick, sweeping boot to the side of a knee. He collapsed on the ground with a scream and a thud.

A second boot it sunk into his stomach. That one kept him on the ground for sure beside my ride. When I had time to look, I discovered it was the man I ran out of the shop by letting him have a peek at the handgun tucked into my belt.

It wasn't so long before the black and white arrived. I ended up patted down and handcuffed before being loaded into the back. With nothing else to do, I kept an eye on officer friendly, who was in deep conversation with my assailant. He wasn't about taking my statement. He had to have been watching it all go down to arrive on-scene so fast. The two were probably in cahoots.

When the flatbed arrived, it sounded like double jeopardy when I heard the cop tell the driver to haul it up on its side. He did, and I knew for sure what had just transpired.

I was in deep shit, and all I ever did was piss off a cop's wife that I happened to work with. Sometimes, life wasn't fair that way.

And sometimes, what goes around, comes around to bite you in the ass.

There were no wants or warrants out on me, but then, the cop already knew that. He was the same one that pulled me over earlier in the day while I was returning from the parking lot scouting mission down the hill. The bastard wouldn't take an accident report, either. He said there had been no accident.

Which, technically, I suppose, was true.

Officer friendly cast a smug look in my direction as he climbed into the driver's seat. I casually mentioned the video someone was making. It was being filmed by one of the women at the bike shop. I didn't mention that part of it.

From the back seat, I looked out the window at the woman and nodded. She waved and pointed skyward. By the look of it, the video was already in the cloud.

I didn't wait for a reaction from the cop. I could afford to be cocky. Snuffy's pistol was at home, tucked beneath the bed.

Hours later, I walked out of the cop shop free and happy. The way things were going, I figured the cops would be the next in line to tell me to hit the high road for my own good. Since Karla's old man was familiar with my circumstances, I pretty much knew she was the one to tell her cop husband about the phone call at the shop.

Smartass that I was, I wondered if she ever took the time to tell him about being cuckolded by Sonny. It was the old guilt by association thing. Being a cop, he could associate a lot of guilt by means of his wife's lover, Sonny, and anyone who worked for him in the bike shop.

My freedom didn't last long. A couple of deputies took it upon themselves to accost me once again. I was hauled back to the station. They double-timed me into a cell and slammed the door. I waited patiently to hear the charges to go along with the incarceration.

In the meantime, it was desert-hot outside, and air-conditioned on the inside. I made good use of the break while I waited.

I didn't get to make a phone call. No one showed up. The smell I detected wasn't coming from my feet. Something wasn't right, and it wasn't me. I settled in for a long wait. I checked the mattress for bed bugs and stretched out when I didn't find any.

Someone must have taken exception to my snoring. Every couple of hours a guard would rattle the bars to keep me awake. Until the door opened, I figured there wouldn't be much to be concerned about.

Except for one thing.

Danielle had an invitation to meet with her boss for dinner. Our plan had been for me to wait things out in the parking lot in case things went sideways and he went for a full-blown assault and rape right there.

I knew for a fact sexual assault was already a huge part of Sonny's menu. I wondered if getting thrown into a jail cell for absolutely no reason was part of the same menu.

With nothing but time on my hands, I went through all the ways I knew to hurt a man.

THIRTY-FIVE

**THREE BILLS LATER** I was released for the second time. It cost me that much to get my ride out of impound. I didn't have any complaints, though. Run-ins with cops were all part of the deal. It was the biker way. I got the message, too. Don't make waves. Don't make waves about anything. With one exception, I was in full and complete agreement.

I made it home in time to meet Danielle already on her way out the door and headed for work. She barely hesitated on her way to her own ride.

—I heard you ended up in jail.

The high desert wind had no doubt been blowing through town, spreading the rumors along with the sand and dust. This time, it was no rumor.

—Yes I did. Karla's cop husband pulled me over just after I let you pull away. He ended up hauling me off to county a second time after I clocked out of the bike shop.

—What did he charge you with?

—Nothing. I'm typical biker trash, apparently. When I waltzed out of the building, two apes caught up with me and hauled me back. I spent the night locked up.

Danielle was giving me a look I didn't recognize. It was somewhere between shit-eating grin and cat-eating canary.

—What's up with you?

—I have to get to work. I'll tell you all about it later.

She headed out the door, and I headed for the shower. I left for work a day and twenty minutes late. I never got the chance to let the boss know I wouldn't be in. I wondered if I even had a job.

Danielle was looking pretty good in her tight jeans. She was braless under the thin top, too. Karla wouldn't be happy with that shoved in Sonny's face all day. I knew right away that I'd missed all the good stuff at the restaurant down the hill.

—You had a date night, didn't you?

She made sure to look around the shop before breaking out into a huge grin.

—I did.

I sure as hell wasn't looking forward to hearing about it, but I swallowed my pride and hoped I was hiding it from her.

—And?

I figured I already knew the answer.

—It went down just as we knew it would. Can you listen without flying off the handle?

While I hadn't been so enthused about Danielle's plan, I'd been unable to talk her out of it. At best I was able to was convince her to ride down to the place and look it over before Sonny showed up. We did that together.

—Considering the time we dedicated to talking about just such a thing, I'm pretty sure I can.

Just when the story was about to get started, Sonny poked his head out of his office and waved me in. If I didn't know better, I'd say he didn't want me associating with Danielle.

—You spent the night in jail.

He didn't look so surprised to me.

—Word travels fast in these parts, doesn't it?

I suspected Karla had been the one to fill him in. Her old man wouldn't have missed an opportunity to tell his wife that he had hassled one of her boyfriend's employees.

—I have to let you go. You didn't show yesterday, and you didn't call. I'm running a business. I can't rely on people who don't show up for work.

It came as no surprise. On the other hand, from what I knew, it was usually the other way around. Sonny's female employees were the ones that ended up getting fired. This time, the man had to be working on something else.

Although, if it was Danielle he was working on, he wouldn't want me around to witness it if he suspected we were becoming a couple. Maybe he had some inside information.

I didn't get a chance to talk to Danielle about what happened during her dinner with Sonny. Through no fault of my own, I'd been twiddling my thumbs in jail. She confirmed my suspicions, though.

—We'll meet for lunch at the usual place. I can't wait to tell you about it.

I told her about getting fired and left the bike shop for the last time. I knew I wouldn't be so eager to hear about what Sonny tried to do to her, but I'd listen to what she had to say.

At the apartment I took a better look at my ride. The bike wasn't in as poor shape as I thought. Most of the damage was cosmetic and wouldn't be expensive to repair. A wash and a little wax would help. The down-time would give me an opportunity to think.

I had my suspicions why I was fired. The way the police were treating me, it began to look like I was on the verge of being run out of town. The only thing missing was the rail I was supposed to ride.

Beginning with the phone call by someone wanting to chase me out of town with a handgun, and ending with the overnight stay courtesy of the county, I ended up without a job. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. If I knew what was good for me, I'd be getting out of town as fast as I could.

And I would, but for one thing. There was no way I was leaving Danielle on her own in this viper's nest of liars, cheats, lawbreakers and sexual predators. Even she had to know that.

I never made it to our lunch meetup. I never made it out of our apartment. The door crashed open and I found myself stuffed into the back of another black and white. The smirk on the face of officer dumbass couldn't be erased. The cursory search came up with Snuffy's Ruger. Unfortunately for me, I hadn't stashed it in the right place.

I spent another night with miscellaneous drunks and impaired drivers. This time, I got to make a phone call. I came up with a woman lawyer who, when I described my earlier incarceration without cause, marched down and negotiated me out with nary a charge. Apparently, there was a matter of a search warrant with faulty information on it

I thanked the woman profusely, and convinced her to drive me back to my place. I gave her two grand from the stash I discovered in the sofa in the El Lay apartment.

The woman never batted an eye. She put the money in her purse without counting it. She advised me to get out of town as fast as I could. I thanked her and watched her drive away in a Cadillac.

I wanted to take her advice. I really did.

THIRTY-SIX

**I WAS FAST** turning into one more local loser, like the guy with a stolen and repainted rental truck hidden away on his desert acreage. It had only been discovered seven year after the fact when the place was raided. Given the number of meth labs lurking in the surrounding county, I couldn't figure why the local sheriff was interested in my comings and goings. For reasons unknown, I had become a thorn in someone's side.

It was that, or Sonny had an in. I couldn't get a handle on that, considering he was doing the wife of an officer. I rode up to Snuffy's to let him know the cops had his handgun. He laughed.

—Welcome to Buena Vista. It wasn't registered.

At least I was ahead on that one. He led me to the patio where we sat down to take another air bath.

—It's been nice to know you. Now get out of town.

He wasn't smiling this time.

—Christ, Snuffy, you're starting to sound like the locals.

—I heard your girlfriend stuck Sonny up in a parking lot.

—Danielle? Man, I haven't had a chance to talk to her about it. I keep getting put in the slammer.

—The two of you should get out as fast as you can. And out of the state even faster.

—She's got her lunch hour coming up. I think I'll ride home and pack us up.

I stuck out my hand and Snuffy took it.

—You probably shouldn't come back.

—Don't worry, I never do. So long, old friend. Will you call Danielle for me?

Twenty minutes to get home, another ten minutes to load the bagger with our clothes, and I was ready to hit the road. All I needed was Danielle. It would worry the hell out of me until she showed up.

I closed the trunk just as her noisy pipes announced her arrival. She saw me waiting, waved and burned a u-turn. She halted and tilted her head east.

That was all I needed. I punched the button and we were off. We rolled side-by side through intersections and corners. We hit the 62, and we were gone. We stopped at Vidal to fill the Sporty's tank. Outside of Earp we waved goodbye to California and crossed the Colorado River.

—We're home-free, baby. Now, are you going to tell me what went down in the parking lot?

—Snuffy? He called me to let me know you were heading out.

—Yeah, I asked him to. Do I have to get back to him about what happened with you and your chum?

—He knows about it? What the fuck.

—The desert wind doesn't only blow sand.

—Apparently not. I'd be more comfortable if we had a few more miles between here and there.

Whatever happened on her date with Sonny, it had her spooked. There'd be no telling when she'd clue me in.

—Saddle up. We'll take the 72 to the dogleg and the 10 and we're gone, baby. We'll be in Texas tonight.

Danielle fired up the Sporty and took off. She didn't look back to see if I was following. Before long we were on the 10 and making speed.

Interstates were good for one thing, and one thing only.

We made good time once we hit the 10. It was hot and dry into Phoenix and Tucson. The wind across the interstate was strong enough to make for some difficult riding in the sand-laden air. We wrestled the steering and argued with the gusts as they tried time and again to force us off the asphalt.

We did the gas-and-go routine all the way across Arizona and into New Mexico. I did the fueling while Danielle went to get burritos or chicken, or whatever looked edible. Plenty of water to wash it all down ended up in saddlebags.

Bathroom breaks occurred at the side of the road, with the bikes running. I stood comfortably while Danielle squatted and fought the wind. I laughed and got a dirty look more than once for my trouble. It was all good.

We ate on the road and handed water back and forth that we couldn't get enough of in the hot, dry wind. It helped make good time across the dusty desert. In El Paso, we halted and pulled into a no-tell motel.

Danielle wheeled her ride into the room and we popped painkillers to ease the riding aches and pains from the long, windy days in the saddle. Come morning, we shared a shower, skipped breakfast, and ate on the road by passing yesterday's leftovers back and forth in the cool, early morning desert air.

We rode into the sun. Before along it was high overhead and burning through the cool morning air faster than we wanted. We still had another 800 to Beaumont and the Louisiana border.

Something was up with Danielle. She never left her bike alone. Even when she was picking up food at the stop-n-pukes, she made sure I stayed with it. She refused to let it out of her sight. It was like she didn't trust me. At night, she rolled it into the room to the foot of the bed.

I was dying to ask, but instead, I bit my tongue and put up with her eccentricity. Hell, she was no worse that a lot of long-distance riders I knew. Most of us were paranoid about getting our bikes stolen in one shithole or another.

She seemed grateful that I didn't ask, and I was okay with those looks.

Welcome rain greeted us as we rode across Louisiana. That the blowing dust changed to blowing rain didn't make a lick of difference but for the slick, flooded interstate. It slowed us even more as we wiped at goggles and hoped for the best.

We turned right and made our way south to Florida 1 by Homestead. Our hard ride ended in Vaca Cay on the Keys around noon, give or take. The bikes were a mess of bugs, mud, dust and asphalt perfume like we'd just crossed a Louisiana mud-hole digging for worms. We weren't so clean either.

Danielle led me into the shade of the dive shop's outbuilding, climbed off our rides, and embraced. Danielle's mother came out to see what the loud pipes were about and ended up greeting her daughter in the parking lot.

While Danielle went in to visit with her family, I wandered down the street to check out the diner her mother told me about. According to her, it had been bought and then refurbished by the new owner. The door rattled against a cow bell and a good-looking young thing with a name tag that said Ava told me I could sit anywhere.

I ordered my usual root beer and pie from the rack and heard a familiar voice call out. I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't believe my eyes, either.

—Eddy! You made it.

Eddy was clutching a chef's knife in one hand while he leaned against the door to the kitchen with the other. A shit-eating grin had plastered itself across his face.

—Either you're stalking me, or you want to borrow money. Where's the other half of the party?

An open-mouthed Ava planted herself at the end of the counter with a look that said she needed to know what was going on before she gave up and ran away.

—Danielle is across the street with her folks. I left to check out the diner. I guess I can leave now, since I know how the food is going to be.

The grin halted as Eddy gave me a dirty look.

—Is that a backhanded compliment?

—No, it's the truth. It looks like the insurance paid out pretty good for you to pick up this place.

—Yeah, well, it needed some renos. I'm just shy of twenty in with the bank. She's a good old diner, though. I wouldn't have bought it otherwise.

—The dive shop across the street—

I didn't get a chance to finish.

—They're good people. The day I no sooner had the key in the lock to open and they came across with fresh coffee and breakfast. They told me I shouldn't be cooking for myself on my very first day.

The cowbell rang and the door slammed. Danielle just about tripped in her haste to get to us. She cracked the back of my head. I almost fell off the stool. Eddy laughed.

—I see you haven't lost your touch.

My eyes watered so bad I couldn't see a thing. Through the tears it looked like Ava wanted to leave as fast as she could.

—Jesus, woman, don't ever do that again or I'll put you over my knee right here.

—If you'd have told me Eddy was already here, your head wouldn't be so sore.

—Sore, hell. I figured you were across the street making yourself pretty.

—Any way I look I'm more than pretty enough for you. And don't you forget it for as long as we're together.

I ignored her, as much as I didn't want to. Ava was grinning and it looked like she wanted to stay for the fireworks now.

—Yeah, yeah, speaking of sore heads, what did you do about Sonny?

I wanted to ask that question for almost three thousand miles. She damn well knew it, too.

—Well, since all the important people in my life are here—

I couldn't resist the interruption.

—Eddy, you better put on a fresh pot of coffee for this. I kept my mouth shut for the entire cross-country ride, but when it's time, it's time.

THIRTY-SEVEN

**DANIELLE WAS FINALLY** ready to tell her tale. She had all of us, including Ava, stuffed into a booth.

—Where to start, Eddy. Where to start. Let's see—

She paused for effect, looking at me.

—Don't rush into it on my account, woman.

It had been killing me all the way across, but I never let on.

—While biker boy here was slackin' it in a jail cell in the wind-blown, dusty high desert, I was out cruising a parking lot waiting for my boss to show up. He wasn't hard to spot once he saw the white blouse and the short skirt waving at him in the breeze.

Eddy looked at me like I was nuts to let her do it. I only shrugged and he nodded. He knew her better than I did.

—This is a first for me, too, Eddy. She never breathed a word of it the whole time.

—That's because I was afraid you couldn't take it. Now that Eddy's here, you're going to have to man up.

Damn if this woman wasn't a piece of work. I didn't know whether to laugh or ride off as quick as I could. She seemed to know it, too.

—If you do, don't bother coming back.

I eyed Eddy and he eyed me and we both knew I was whipped. He sat back and grinned and shook his head. I sat back and waited. Ava's chin was in her hands and she'd propped herself on the table, waiting for Danielle to go on.

—Earlier Frank and I scouted out the lot looking for a good place to do the deed. While Sonny busied himself backing into the parking spot we picked, I managed to get a couple of buttons undone.

She looked at us, pleased as punch.

—I squeezed my nipples as hard as I could and sidled up to the door. He rolled down, I leaned in like a car-hop on roller blades serving up a milkshake, and grabbed his crotch.

Ava gasped. I harrumphed. Eddy looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

—Jesus, woman. You knew what a mess that man was. He could have hurt you.

—Yeah. No. He tried to get the door open, but I wasn't that stupid. I had my hip braced against it. He flailed with his arm out the window and then changed his mind and put the seat all the way back. He ended up staring at the tits falling out of my blouse.

My jaw dropped just in time for Danielle to carry on. Ava looked like she wanted to be somewhere else. Eddy only nodded. He wouldn't look at me this time.

—In an instant and before he know it, I had his pencil dick out catching wind and a breath of fresh night air.

—Eddy, where's the key to the bathroom? I don't need to hear this.

I pretended to get up.

—Yes, you do.

Danielle was right. I couldn't say no now.

—I gave the pencil dick half-a-dozen strokes and felt him getting harder. I squeezed the son of a bitch off just to coat his balls with blue and started swinging my hips in the direction of the restaurant. Damned if I was going to miss out on a free meal.

She had a satisfied look on her face, but her story wasn't finished. Neither was Sonny by the sound of it. I looked over at Ava. Her mouth hadn't changed position. It was still wide open.

—I sidled up to him in the booth and had my hand everywhere but his crotch. By the time I finished with him, the man was so horny I thought he was going to stroke out on me right there in the booth, and I don't mean by stroking his own dick.

She was on a roll, no doubt about it. Eddy and I were trying to avoid looking at one another. I don't think either one of us wanted to believe her, but we weren't sure. Danielle caught her breath and went on while looking across at Ava.

—When the check came, Sonny handed me the keys. I hurried out to the truck and waited. When he got in I spread my legs and flashed more tit. Before I could say a word he had his dick out. I bent over and went for it like I was going to suck the life out of him.

—Don't panic, boys. I gave him a handy. When he finished blowing his load, I told him if he wanted something else that was warm, wet and welcoming to slip into, it would cost him double the bonus he was handing over to Karla.

She halted briefly and looked at all three of us, one at a time.

—Cash in advance.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Now I knew the reason she was glued to her sporty and its saddlebags all the way across.

—The next day, the fool paid up, I tucked it away before he changed his mind, and here we are.

—You just told me more than I wanted to hear, girl.

—Yes, well, now it's your turn. Is there anything I need to know about you?

I looked at Eddy once more, and he did more head shaking.

—You'd better do as she says, Frank. If you don't stick with this one, I'll hunt you down myself.

—I think you're right. She's worth every nickel.

Danielle walked out of the diner. She wasn't gone for long before the cowbell rang for the second time. She approached the counter in front of Eddy and dropped what must have been close to twenty large on the counter.

—Pay it off, Eddy. You need to own it in full. And yeah, my mom told me.

The man didn't know what to do. He stood back and looked towards the door. He checked the windows. He crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling as though invoking a higher power before looking over at Ava. She'd managed to close her mouth, at least.

—Ava. How much do you owe on that beater you bought?

The dark-haired, older version of Danielle who told me to sit anywhere stood up and moved behind the counter beside Eddy.

—A little over nine hundred and change. Why?

Eddy counted out a thousand and handed it to the woman.

—I just came into some money, and I like to share with friends and neighbors. There's a little extra for gas.

Fortunately, the woman already had a hand on the counter to steady herself.

—Oh, Eddy. That's not right. You can't.

He fished beneath the counter and came up with an envelope. He slipped the thousand into it before putting it back under the counter.

—You know where it is when you need it.

The cash was no loss to either of us. We believed we had it coming, considering what we went through. Hell, Dani had earned hers. I knew what was left of mine to be a gift I stumbled across for enduring two women and their companions who wanted to see me dead.

I was pretty sure Dani had wormed her fee out of Sonny for the promise that he'd make her another notch by forcing her to bend over his office desk.

—Eddy, if you've got questions, you're going to have to save them for later. I've got eight months to teach this one how to swim before he becomes a permanent baby-sitter.

Danielle grabbed my ear and yanked me off the stool. I cast a sidelong glance in Eddy's direction, but his eyes were closed and his hands covered his ears.

—I need some help here, man.

Eddie's eyes opened and went wide.

—I'm not a man known to be giving advice, but just to be safe I'd say learn to dog paddle first.

###

More

Twisted Sisters

Detective Jim Nash has a problem. He has a murder victim in an alley and a dead woman in his bed. His own homicide division wants to charge him with murder. To say he's got serious commitment problems would be an understatement. He's on the lookout for twins, but he doesn't want to date them. He wants to know who murdered them. A collection of three modern pulp short stories.

Fast Food Slow Waitress

A biker hits all the high spots (or the low spots, depending on your point of view). These short stories find him at a peeler bar off the 15 in Montana; encountering a hitch-hiker off the 10 in New Mexico; being sweet-talked by his landlady; romancing a truck-driving sweetheart in a sleeper at a California truck stop; flirting with a waitress in a restaurant in the high desert. This is an updated and revised version of First Time and other stories previously published.

Dead Reckoning

During a well-deserved R&R on mainland Mexico, Harry picks up something he doesn't own that forces him to flee across the Sea of Cortez to the Baja. While hiding out on an isolated beach, two mysterious gringas show up to complicate Harry's life by attempting to implicate him in their own scheme, resulting in a mad dash up the Baja to escape the consequences of their actions.

Long Way Home

When Harry's ex-wife, Sasha, and their daughter accompany her oil-company boyfriend on a working vacation to Africa, the trio goes missing. They get out a call for help that will lead Harry on an air and ground chase across the Horn of Africa to rescue his family before kidnappers can move them to their den on the Indian Ocean.

Out of the Past

Harry's comfortable family life is turned upside down when he gets a phone call from a former comrade he thought long dead. When the second call comes in an hour later, the caller asks for his help. He knows his life will never be the same until he can learn what happened to the woman who launched a rescue mission to save his life after his plane was destroyed during a firefight on a bush landing strip in East Africa. Third short novel in a series.

About

Peter Duke's gypsy spirit has taken him to some strange places in the world, but now he's content to limit his adventures to riding a motorcycle and whatever he might encounter when he's on the road. Consequently, he's worked in bike shops doing odd jobs from planning and putting on rides down Mexico way, taking care of computer networking and security, and to picking up and delivering motorcycles in the El Lay basin, among other things.

Pretty boring stuff, isn't it?

He's ridden over a lot of North America at one time or another from Canada to Mexico, and from Atlantic to Pacific. By far his favorite ride is up and down the length of the Baja Peninsula, where the people are friendly, the sun always shines and it's warm in the winter.

Of everything that he has experienced in his all-too-brief life, Africa is perhaps the greatest enigma. It's a beautiful continent, rich in people, nature and resources, yet poor in all of those areas too.

There are some missing years in there, but a little mystery is good for the soul, wouldn't you say?

http://pxduke.com

author@pxduke.com

