Lost Hearts (The Unknowns Motorcycle Club Book 1) Page 7

  Usually, at this point, he’d start bragging and give a very explicit and raunchy play-by-play of what had just happened. But he was not about to do that now…much to Slim’s disappointment.

  “What?” Slim said. “No details?”

  “No, not this time.”

  “Come on, now,” Slim said. “I’m getting old and all of that wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am stuff is far behind me. I have to live vicariously through you, you lucky son of a bitch.”

  Alex busied himself by straightening up his side of the room and trying to distract himself with going through the single bag he had packed for this trip. “I know all of that,” he said. “You are getting old. But…I can’t. Not this time. She’s dealing with some stuff and just needed someone to talk to. Nothing happened.”

  Slim looked at him, confused. Alex was well aware of how soft it made him sound, but he didn’t care. For the first time since joining The Unknowns, he hated the fact that he was supposed to constantly be rough and rugged. In that moment, thinking of Amanda and how she would be locked in his mind during the drive to Chicago, he did not feel tough at all. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so sad and lost.

  This is not what I need right now, he thought.

  “You look pissed,” Slim said.

  Alex shook his head. “I’m fine. I just wished I hadn’t got mixed up in her troubles last night. That’s all.”

  “Oh, so it was you,” Slim said. “Ha! I saw that dude laying in the parking lot when I left last night. I wondered what happened. Was he attacking her or something?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it,” Alex said, a bit forcefully.

  Slim raised his hands in mock surrender. “I hear you loud and clear,” he said. “Excuse the ever-loving hell out of me.”

  “You about ready to ride?” Alex asked.

  “Always. I figure we might want to give Jameson a call and let him know where we are and when we expect to get to Chicago. What do you think? Eight or so tonight?”

  “Probably.”

  “You want to call him or should I?”

  “Apparently I’m in a shitty mood,” Alex said. “Maybe it’s best if you do it.”

  “Sure,” Slim said, clearly confused by Alex’s current state of mind.

  While Slim picked up his cell phone and dialed Jameson, Alex continued to keep himself busy. He took the keys to the front desk and settled everything up with the clerk. But even through that, he kept seeing Amanda. He saw her crying at the table, he saw her face beneath him, biting her bottom lip as he thrust into her. He heard her sobbing, heard her moaning, saw her grimacing as she cried and smiling awkwardly as she answered the door for him.

  What the hell is happening here?

  Was it a crush? He hadn’t had one of those since high school. Was it love? He doubted that because he really wasn’t even sure what it was. And besides…he’d been in her presence for a grand total of about four hours. Was that even possible?

  He walked slowly back to the room and when he stepped in, Slim was still on the phone, nodding about something. He then said, “Yeah, boss, here he is.”

  He held the phone out to Alex. Alex took it, wondering if there was something wrong. Had Slim told Jameson about his attitude this morning? Or, worse yet, had he told Jameson about the creep he had knocked out in the restaurant parking lot last night? If it wasn’t club-approved, any violence that could place them in legal trouble was frowned upon and often punishable by one hell of a beating or expulsion from the club.

  Alex gave Slim a perplexed look as he put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Jameson,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a special little project I need you to do for me,” Jameson said. “I need it done as soon as you get to Chicago. It’s very important. I only trust a few of the guys to do it, and you’re one of them. The fact that you’re getting to Chicago early is sort of perfect.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “I’m going to text you a phone number later today. When you get into town, I want you to call it. The number is for a man named Marco O’Brien. We’ve done some freelance stuff with him here and there. I need you to hook up with him and then beat the shit out of him. Tell him you want to meet him at Jameson’s Dark Place. He’ll know what you mean. I’ll text you the address. Anyway…meet him there, act all buddy-buddy and then kick his ass. Let him know there’s more coming if he’s not out of Chicago by the time I get there.”

  “Can I ask why?” Alex asked.

  “You don’t need to know it all,” Jameson said. “All you need to know is that he’s gotten sloppy in his work. A few of our guys are probably going to see some serious jail time next year because of him. I want this asshole to have a very clear message to stay away for a while when we get into town.”

  Alex stepped outside of the room and lowered his voice to a whisper as he stood on the motel’s concrete walkway. “Does Slim know about this?”

  “Yes. I’ve asked him to be your look-out. I would have asked him to do it, but you’re much more intimidating.”

  “Okay.”

  “You good with all of this, Alex?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good man. Call me when it’s done. I’ll get those texts to you soon. You guys be careful.”

  Jameson ended the call without a goodbye—as he usually did—and left Alex wondering who this Marco O’Brien character was. There were many people that worked behind the scenes with The Unknowns, many of which Alex had never met before. He’d never questioned the way Jameson ran things, though. The man had stuck his neck out for Alex several times and there was a bond between them that was growing more and more every day.

  I wonder how Jameson would feel if he knew all of this crap that’s going on in my head about Amanda, Alex thought.

  He walked back into the room where Slim had thrown his bag over his shoulder and was heading for the door. “Everything good?” Slim asked.

  “Good to go.”

  “Sounds like you got some skull-splitting to do tonight, huh?”

  “Just another day at work,” Alex said. He hoped the laugh he followed this with, as well as the humor in his voice, sounded genuine. He very badly wanted Slim to forget about the awkward tension they had shared in the room after Slim had asked for details about his morning.

  Apparently, Slim bought it. He clapped Alex softly on the back as they closed the door behind them and headed for their bikes at the other end of the parking lot.

  “So who is this Marco O’Brien?” Alex asked as he threw a leg over his motorcycle.

  “A smalltime killer-for-hire from what I understand,” Slim said.

  “Any idea what he did to get on Jameson’s bad side?”

  Slim shook his head as he climbed onto his bike. “No, I don’t. And if Jameson isn’t coming forth with the info willingly, I’m not about to start prying.”

  Alex nodded and cranked his bike to life. Right away, the feel of it underneath him helped to sooth him a bit. His mind left Amanda for a while as the one familiar thing in his life for the last few years thundered to life beneath him.

  After Slim cranked his bike, they looked at each other and nodded. They pulled out onto the road, Alex in front, and headed for the interstate. When they took their exit fifteen minutes later, Alex could not ignore the twinge of pain that stomped on his heart when he once again thought of Amanda and how he would never see her again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  While the money she made by working from home wasn’t always that great, the ability to set her own schedule was a benefit she would never trade for anything. After all, it was the lax schedule that allowed Amanda to do nothing more that lounge on the couch, coffee in hand, staring at the walls and trying to figure out what in the hell had happened in her kitchen.

  She went through a whirlwind of emotions—from giddiness to guilt, then to euphoria to shame. She had never done anything so spontaneous. Not even with Stephen. What surprised her the
most, though, was the shame and guilt she felt had nothing to do with Stephen. After all, she had gone out looking for companionship so that was essentially her first step away from letting her life with Stephen interfere with the rest of her life.

  No, the guilt and shame came from somewhere else. In college, she had known plenty of girls that went to frat parties just to hook up with a guy for one night. The stories they brought back we usually lurid and, if she was honest, had made her pretty hot and bothered. But she had never been that type…not even close.

  So the fact that she had succumbed to it made her feel like less of a person. She knew there was no sense in it, but there it was, plain and simple. She wondered if she might feel differently if she knew she’d see Alex again. If he wasn’t going to be nine hours away for the rest of their lives—if, say, he were on the other side of town—and there was a good chance they’d see each other again, she wondered if she’d feel this way.

  No, she thought. I’d already be excited about the next time I could see him. And maybe next time, we’d take the time to head to the bedroom. That floor sort of hurt.

  She arched at the slight pain in her back, but smiled. She then glanced back to the kitchen and her smile grew even wider. Shame be damned, she thought. That was nice. And much needed.

  Still, there was a growing part of her that felt like she was missing out on something special with Alex. Of course, this could have just been her emotional reaction to getting laid for the first time in two years. But she didn’t think that was it.

  “Stop it, girl,” she told herself, finally pushing up from the couch.

  She was overthinking this, that’s all. The last twelve hours had been insane to say the least. She had gone from being on the brink of rape or death to making quick and rough love on her kitchen floor. It was like something out of one of those really bad Lifetime movies.

  She went to the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee. As she stirred in her half and half and sugar, she looked at the floor, again. She was delightfully surprised that the mere memory of what had happened there less than three hours ago sent a spike of excitement through her—a spike that started directly at the center of a place neglected for far too long.

  She went into her small study, fired up her computer, and waited for it to boot up. She checked her e-mail smirking at the reminder e-mail she had received from the e-dating site that she had signed up for three days ago. She promptly deleted it and managed to get into the flow of work without too much of a problem.

  By lunchtime, she was invigorated. She had more energy than she’d had in a while and could not remember the last time she’d been in such a great mood. Had sex always done this for her?

  Not always, she answered herself. There was something about him.

  Then, a counter to that thought came and it hit her hard. Maybe it’s because he does this kind of thing all of the time. He’s gotten practice. He is in a motorcycle club.

  She thought about this for a moment and decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. While she had no problem admitting she was saddened she would never see Alex again, she had, in a way, gotten what she needed from him. And it had been more than sex.

  What Alex had given her was proof there was still a part of her that very much wanted to enjoy life and to move on. It was a part of her that now scoffed at the pills she had nearly taken and stomped out any selfish and meandering thoughts she had about ending her own life.

  Alex had given her motivation (and much more than that, the sensitive area beneath her waist reminded her). He had given her the strength to pick herself back up and face life with a new purpose and vibrancy.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The only thing that kept going through Alex’s mind as he stood outside of the small warehouse on the outermost edge of a sketchy Chicago neighborhood was that Chicago wasn’t as cold has he had expected. The dry desert heat had ruined him for colder climates, but Chicago wasn’t so bad—at least not gauging from the two and a half hours he had been here.

  Alex stood in the dark and looked at this cell phone. The display told him that it was 11:43. He was supposed to meet Marco O’Brien at the warehouse behind him—a place he knew only as Jameson’s Dark Place. Marco O’Brien apparently also knew it by that name because when Alex had requested the man meet him there, Marco had instantly sounded timid and unsure of himself on the phone.

  Alex peered back up the alley and could barely make out the darkened smudge of Slim as he leaned against a neighboring building. If Alex hadn’t known he was there, it would have been impossible to see him…which was exactly how it had been planned.

  The sound of an approaching engine from the opposite direction caused Alex to turn around. He saw a pair of headlights trimming the darkness as a car turned into the alleyway. As Alex watched it approach, he marveled over how ingenious Jameson’s plan was.

  Marco knew The Unknowns were coming to Chicago and was quite excited, thinking it meant more business and a better relationship with the club. The building that was now called Jameson’s Dark Place did belong to Jameson. He had purchased through a realtor a month ago after Marco had found it for him. It was to be one of two or three hideaways for The Unknowns once they landed in Chicago.

  And who better than to come out to meet Marco slightly ahead of the rest of the crew than one of The Unknown’s younger recruits? It would seem perfectly normal to Marco, having a younger kid with less experience come out to do such a tedious errand. As far as Marco knew, he was simply meeting Alex to go over renovation plans and to have the construction already underway when Jameson and the rest of his crew arrived in town.

  Of course, as Alex and Slim knew, there was something totally different going on. When Jameson had sent Alex the texts with the location and Marco’s number, he had also delivered a message that he wanted conveyed to Marco before Alex left him.

  Alex went over all of this as the car pulled to a stop a few feet ahead of him. Marco O’Brien stepped out and right away, Alex felt bad about what he had to do. Marco was easily seventy-five pounds overweight. He wore a pair of thick glasses and was losing the hair on top of his large head. But then Alex remembered what this man did for a living and that pity went away. From the little bit Slim had shared about the man (which wasn’t much, as Jameson kept these sorts of secrets close to his chest), Marco had killed more than twenty people for fees that were exceptionally low for a man in his despicable field.

  “Hey, Mr. O’Brien,” Alex said, doing his best to sound non-threatening and even a bit intimidated.

  “Alex, right?” Marco said.

  “That’s me,” Alex said. “Sorry to have you out here so late, but that’s how Jameson wanted it.”

  “He’s smart for that,” he said. “The cops don’t come out here much at night. Parts of this neighborhood scare them, badge or no badge. During the day, though…they’re like cockroaches.”

  “Do you have the key?” Alex asked.

  Marco pulled a single key out of his pocket and started for the door. As he stood under the brick and concrete awning that was cracked and covered in dust and cobwebs, Alex looked back out to the end of the alley. He could still just barely make out Slim, still on lookout patrol.

  Marco opened the door and they both stepped inside. Instantly, the smell of dust and neglect hit Alex. Marco flipped a switch on the wall and a few overhead halogens popped on with an electric hum, casting sick yellow light down on the floor. The small warehouse was totally empty except for a few old sawhorses and strewn newspapers.

  “I figure a few separating walls is a good place to start,” Marco said. “If you can get the right people to do it, you can—”

  That’s when Alex drew his right foot up and kicked Marco hard in the back of his left knee. The man let out a yell of pain and surprise as he went to the ground. He immediately started grabbing at his waist, a sure sign that he was carrying a gun. Before he could grab it, Alex stomped down hard on his arm and twisted his foot. There was a sicken
ing cracking noise as Marco’s arm broke.

  Marco screamed, now forgetting the gun altogether. He opened his mouth to say something but the wind was sucked out of him as Alex leaned down, picked him up by the collar of his jacket, and delivered a devastating blow to Marco’s face. Marco hobbled and fell again, looking at Alex like a dog in the midst of being beaten by its master.

  “What the fuck is this?” Marco screamed in pain. Blood was pouring from his mouth from the shot to the face. He was scrambling back to the far wall, now using his left hand to grab for the gun. Alex saw it now, a small 9 mm tucked into a holster on his left side.

  Alex took a large stride and threw a knee into Marco’s chest. A sound like a hurricane-force wind came out of the fat man. Alex then reached down and took the gun. When he held it up, Marco held his good arm up, shielding himself.