Chapter Three
June
Once I find Theo, it’s easy to keep him in my sights.
He doesn’t do much beyond hanging out at the bar he owns, the Iron Cage, or the clubhouse two blocks away, working in his garage, riding with the Saints of Purgatory, and visiting the gym with his right hand, James Hartley.
Amber is almost always there, dangling on his arm and staring at him like she’s waiting for him to snap.
My decision to kill Theo solidifies the second week of following him.
I’m sitting in my car, parked in front of the Iron Cage with the seat reclined and windows down.
The bar’s door swings open, releasing the sound of music with a loud bass, and Theo and Amber pour out.
I’m close enough to see their mouths moving, but I can’t hear individual words, even when the door clicks shut, muffling the music again.
She’s crying and reaching for him, swaying like she’s drunk.
He grips her wrists, yanks her forward so their chests are pressed together, and snarls in her face.
Her shoulders pull in as she attempts to make herself smaller.
Her shout of pain is perfectly audible when he shoves her. She stumbles, throws her arms out, and barely catches herself on the wall.
“Pull yourself together,” he yells. Then he rubs his head, turns, and stalks away.
I watch him climb on his bike and ride off, all while Amber cowers against the wall, holding herself with too-thin arms. I’m about to leave when another man, also wearing a Saints of Purgatory jacket, walks out, sees Amber, and shakes his head.
At his appearance, she runs over and throws her arms around him, sobbing into his neck.
The guy hugs her close, but it doesn’t take long for his hands to reach her ass.
I stay long enough to watch his piss-poor comforting turn into a sloppy drunken make-out session.
During Jennifer’s next appointment, she tells me that Amber and Theo are in a fight, but Amber is too afraid to break up with him.
Then, that night, Theo rides to his house, Amber on the back of his bike.
When he pulls her off, her legs cinch around his waist, and she tugs off his helmet to kiss him while he carries her inside.
I leave, knowing I won’t be seeing either one of them again soon.
The next time I see Amber, I wish I hadn’t left. Because she has two black eyes and a split lip.
After that, her presence is less consistent, and when I do see her with Theo, she’s more subdued, less overtly trying to get his attention. She drinks more, though, if her stumbling is any indicator. She also seems thinner every day, and the dark circles under her eyes never fade.
Nearly a month into tailing Theo, I watch him and the rest of the gang steal four luxury sedans during a convention downtown.
They then sell them to a guy named Basil, who lives a life of extravagance that’s probably paid for by this agreement he has with a group of outlaw thug bikers.
Theo and the Saints bring him nice cars to massacre and sell in pieces to the highest bidder.
For some reason, I’m disappointed. Like I expected more from the leader of the roughest biker gang in Tucson.
I shouldn’t have. No man who pushes around his girl is truly impressive. They’re always sniveling boys afraid of their own shadows. Everything else is an act.
Theo Zervas is no different.
~
Thanksgiving comes and goes. Sadie returns home to LA for the holiday, and Evelyn, Rose, her sister, Maple, and I spend the day together, all without decent families to celebrate with.
By December, the flames inside start to tickle my ribs.
It hasn’t even been three months, so I double my visits to the kickboxing gym and gun range, two of the most reliable ways of releasing pent-up energy and blowing temporary cold winds through my body.
On Saturday, I don my black, torn jeans, a too-small tank top I stole from Rose, and black combat boots.
The tattoo nearly covering my left arm sells the image of a girl who belongs in a biker bar.
It's a cemetery with fourteen small tombstones, all but one engulfed in flames.
I had the most recent headstone added over five weeks ago.
I arrange my dirty blonde waves in a messy bun that looks effortless but requires nearly half a can of hairspray and apply smokey eyeshadow and fake eyelashes.
It’s nine-thirty by the time I leave my house and head to the Iron Cage, which is already crowded when I arrive, just as planned.
I don’t want to stick out any more than I have to.
The bouncer, a man so big he could easily crush me between his fingers, gives me a short nod, waving me in.
Not a threat, he’s probably thinking.
I’m never a threat.
My ears throb with the onslaught of hard rock spilling from the speakers, and my nose wrinkles at the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat.
The place is filled with Saints and wannabe lookalikes.
Ignoring the instincts that tell me to pull free the knife I have strapped to my thigh, I make a beeline for the bar and sit next to a man wearing the Saints of Purgatory cut.
He has dark skin and braided black hair, and I subconsciously flip through the files I’ve started for the core members.
I’m confident this is Raphael, the club’s tail gunner and close friend of Luna Mcintyre, the club’s treasurer and the only girl with a named rank.
At my appearance, Raphael turns, surreptitiously checking the space around me, making sure I’m alone. He then gives me a wide smile, showing off crooked teeth that are oddly endearing.
“What is a stunning young creature like yourself doing in a place like this all alone?”
Could he be more cliche?
“Who says I’m alone?” I respond, though I follow the words with a half-smile.
“Your boyfriend hiding in the shadows?”
“Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Right after answering, I look away, radiating uncertainty with a hint of insecurity.
“How about I buy you a drink? You really shouldn’t hang out alone in a dump like this.”
Dump? He practically lives here.
“Uhm…” I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
“No strings attached, promise!”
I hesitate for a moment, just long enough to keep him hooked, then agree. He instantly turns to the bartender and says to make me whatever I want.
“What’s good here?” I ask. Please don’t say beer, I think. I’ve never developed a taste for the stuff.
“The IPA on tap is delicious.”
Of fucking course it is. “Okay, I’ll try that.” The bartender pulls the tap to fill a glass, then slides it to me. I thank him and turn back to Raphael. “I’m Maryanne.”
“Raphael,” he says, offering his hand. I take it, shaking once, then reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
From there, it’s easy. I talk with Raphael and choke down the beer. Then I let him pull me into the center of the bar where he grinds against me with the beat of the music. In any other situation, I’d appreciate his sense of rhythm. Now, though, all I can think is, where the hell is Theo?
I wasn’t planning to talk to him today, but I wanted to get close.
This is the first contact I’m making with the people in his world.
I would’ve preferred if he were here so he could at least see me on the sidelines as a random girl, but not a threat.
Any sense of familiarity with me, even foggy, will help lower his guard on the final day.
But I spend two hours with Raphael and never see Theo or Amber.
There are several Saints among the crowd, and James is obvious when he walks through the bar, thanks to his thick red beard, matching red hair, and towering height, but no other major players show up.
Finally, I announce I’m leaving, shut down Raphael’s invitations back to his place, and agree to give him my number, which is for the burner I bought with cash.
Then I leave, desperate to get home and wash off the night.
Raphael calls the next day but I ignore it, not wanting to be too important in his life or memorable to the rest of the gang. He calls and texts several more times, his last message including a few choice words about me being a tease.
I wait for two weeks before returning to the Iron Cage on a Thursday when I know Raphael won’t be there because he’ll have his son for a visit.
I dance with Luna, a short girl with tattoos climbing up her neck and dark, cropped hair.
I have my arms wrapped around her neck, our hips pressed together, when Theo makes his first appearance.
He’s standing at the back of the bar, gaze sweeping the whole room. I quickly look away before he catches me staring. The next time I look up, he’s gone.
I dance with Luna for longer than I probably should, but she’s genuinely fun, and for a blink, there are no thoughts in my mind but the music, the smoke in the air, and the feel of fingers against my exposed skin on my back.
Then she starts to press her lips to my neck, and I take the first opportunity to slip away before I leave a lasting impression.
I manage one more trip to the Iron Cage, and though there is no Amber or Theo, I do hear an interesting conversation from two guys standing off to the side.
“That little bitch needs to go. For good.”
“Valor, seriously, dude! You need to keep your mouth shut.”
“You can’t like her any more than I do.”
“I don’t, but I trust the boss. He’ll take care of her.”
Unfortunately, I don’t hear anything else, and I pause hunting to attempt enjoying the holidays.
When the fire starts licking my brain, I visit my tattoo artist to add flames to the most recent gravestone on my sleeve. Then, the second weekend of January, Jennifer calls my personal phone.
“Ms. Graves,” she says, voice thick with tears.
“Jennifer, is everything okay?”
“No, no. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t heard from her in three days!”