Page 17 of Justice

“I need a list of all the women inside the prison at the time Deidre was killed.”

Drake didn’t need to tell his PI any details; the man was as efficient at finding information as he was at beating the shit out of people. He wanted to meet the man or woman responsible for the cunts death, not for revenge or to even any score, but to shake their hand, give them money or offer them a job. Whoever had put an end to the bitch’s cold heart had earned his respect and a place at his Family’s table.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

“You sure this guy will show?”Red asked as he watched the red-head deliver a pitcher of beer to the table in the corner. His mouth salivated as she bent over, those luscious ass cheeks of hers peeking out of their denim prison. He had a thing for red-heads, his obsession the reason behind his road name. Taking a pull of his beer and adjusting his cock, the waitress looked over her shoulder at him and his crotch. He couldn’t remember her name, not that he really cared, and he had no plans of keeping her around or making her his old lady. She had a warm snatch and no gag reflex, something he and a million other guys had enjoyed.

“Fuck if I know. He’s rogue, you know what that means.”

Red didn’t appreciate being kept waiting, not by some bitch he thought about fucking, and most definitely not by some asshole who apparently didn’t own a watch. There had been a time where he wouldn’t have given the bastard a second past the agreed upon time, much less the twenty minutes he was pushing now. But his numbers were low, really low, and he was at his wit's end to build his club back to what it once was.

Red drummed his fingers against the table, his mind drifting back to when his club was one of the largest in the state. He and his Vice-President held the top seats on the chapter council. His business making him more money than he ever thought he would be able to spend.

Life had been a fickle bitch, and he lost his seat after his friend, Judge Nolen, died, removing his thumb from the legal system around here. The endless stack of money dwindled to nothing, leaving him to scrape the bottom of the barrel just to keep the lights on. He’d lost more members than he cared to count, due to his inability to keep them out of jail and earning the kind of money he promised.

Just when he was ready to give up, toss in his cut and become rogue himself, he stumbled upon a guy who needed some money laundered, convert one-hundred K to one-million. Red had to practically cut off his left nut to prove to the guy he was legit, but he won the business in the end.

Something in him snapped when the one-hundred thousand dollars he had been sent to replicate stared up at him, begging him to find a couple red-haired girls and fuck the shit out of them surrounded by the twenties. Suddenly, he wasn’t the broke-ass biker anymore, he was the rich-as-fuck bastard who had women dancing at his feet, sucking his cock and snorting coke off his chest.

He allowed history to repeat itself as he handed the money out like Halloween candy, enjoying the multitude of women and dope. Everything was perfect again, until it wasn’t. When the money was gone, so were the girls and all the shit he had given them, leaving him the broke-ass biker once again. This time with a deadline and several extensions which had passed.

With no means of making the money back, he did the one thing he swore he would never do, selling his most prized possession to a club in Detroit. Now that he had the money, he had to find men willing to join his club, build up his numbers before the man he owed came to collect his million.

His Sargent at Arms, Griller, knew of a guy down in Miami, a rogue who had a reputation for collecting unofficial followers. Men who had left their club for various reasons, traveling in packs for safety.

According to Griller, this rogue, Hawk, didn’t give two shits when it came to other clubs. He traveled wherever and with whomever he pleased, not bothering to seek permission from the landlord to fly his colors. From the stories Red had heard, this guy is clever as fuck, easy on the eyes, and had a bank account to rival the rich motherfucker Red owed the mill to.

Tossing caution to the wind, Red had Griller put the word out, a call for this Hawk to meet him in the bar to discuss joining his ranks, even if for a short while. He had a proposition for this Hawk, a side deal of killing this rich bastard and keeping the million for himself, a small portion for Hawk of course; at least while he remained alive.

“Fuck this.” He stands, tossing money to the table, the frustration of all the bullshit in his life giving him a headache. Griller stands, tipping his bottle back and guzzling the last of his beer before slamming it to the table, matching his steps.

“Get the word out, open gate nights are back on. Get every hungry cunt you can find and make sure they are ready to party.”

Lifting his leg to straddle his aging Harley, he slides on his favorite shades to block out the blinding sun sitting high in the Georgia sky. A reflection from a passing car directs his attention to the coffee shop across the street, and, more importantly, to the impressive bike parked against the curb.

The custom bike was all chrome and testosterone, and even though Red was well established in his sexuality, the metal beast made his dick hard. He needed to find out who owned this bike, meet the man with the kind of cash it took to trick it out, and the courage to ride such a massive piece of machinery. This was no weekend hobby bike, no, this was someone with a set of balls the size of Georgia, and Red needed him on his side.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Raindrops skirt along the windshield,their erratic patterns distorting her view of the neon sign for the seedy motel Justice had parked down the street from. Guilt was eating her insides at the half-truth she told Molly. She did, in fact, want a hot bath, but it wasn’t the first thing on her list. However, she cared enough about her only friend to not get her involved with what she was going to do. Molly had spent enough time in prison, she didn’t need more time because of her.

During the process of receiving her full pardon, Adam had explained she would have full, uncensored access to the computers and internet. He encouraged her to use the time she had waiting for the paperwork, to find an apartment and look for a job. She smiled and thanked him, lying through her teeth as she asked for the whereabouts of Glynn Stone, needing to thank him for keeping her safe during the stabbing incident.

Unfortunately, he was no help, claiming to be unfamiliar with the name. So, during the time she was allowed access to the computer, she chose the one in the library, using the program Beth Olson had employed to get into System One’s records. Once she had Stone’s information, she looked at his bank records and found the name of this motel listed a day after his arrest.

Earlier, she’d walked into the office; her shirt opened enough to give the geeky motherfucker behind the desk something to concentrate on besides her questions. He’d licked his lips and stared at the sliver of nipple she allowed to peek out. Nearly tripping over himself to answer her questions and ask a few of his own. If it was one thing Justice knew, it was how the male brain worked, didn’t matter if he had a corner office on Wall Street, or worked the graveyard shift at a truck stop, they were all ruled with the head between their legs. So, when the attendant asked her if she had a boyfriend, she played on his fantasy and made it sound as if she had been waiting on him her entire life. The poor guy had a coughing fit when she adjusted her arms on the counter, pushing the girls together giving him a full shot of her ample cleavage and both nipples. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was still in the bathroom jacking off, or ready to propose marriage the next time he saw her.

She had been waiting close to three hours for Stone to return to his room. The guy in the lobby mentioned he’d noticed him leave right before lunch, but he hadn’t returned yet. Her internet search had not been limited to shady motels and bank accounts, she also located an adult bookstore, purchasing several items to make her revenge on Stone complete. Killing him was the ultimate prize, and she planned to enjoy every painful moment she gave him until she watched the life leave his cursed eyes.

Just as she was about to give up and go back to the room she’d rented a few miles away, the headlights of an SUV, and by the markings on the side, an expensive one, pulled into the parking spot outside of Stone’s room. Dipping down into the seat of her boosted car, a skill her uncle Bobcat showed her for her fourteenth birthday, she watched as a boot covered foot slid out of the car, followed by the body of Glynn Stone. His arms full of bags from a fast-food restaurant, and she wondered if he had someone in the car with him. When he pointed the key fob at the side of the SUV, the lights flashing twice and the beep of the lock sounding, she grabbed her bag and stepped from the car.

With her head on a swivel, she crossed the parking lot, stepping over several water-filled puddles, her high heels teetering on the broken pavement. With the shitty weather, the motel was full of travelers who were more concerned with getting inside where it was warm and dry, rather than who was walking around in the rain.

Standing outside his room, she placed her ear to the closed door, listening to see if she could hear a voice other than Glynn’s. When all she could make out was the running water of what she assumed was his shower, she slides the key she had pilfered off Geek Boy into the vintage lock.

Ever so slowly, she turns the key as she looks to the right and left, making sure no one is watching. She twists the handle, the light from inside the room flooding the tiny and decaying welcome mat under her feet. Opening the door, she cautiously steps over the threshold, locking the door behind her.

Inside, the room reeks of body odor and old food, the dresser and a small table in the corner littered with discarded wrappers. Dirty clothes and a few porn magazines are mixed in with the sheets of the unmade bed.

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