Chapter 6
STEVIE
In my car, my hands shake from what just happened.
What did just happen? I innocently went for a pampering, and instead, I’m violated and assaulted.
From Gears’s attitude toward me, and my encounter with these women, I’m shocked and genuinely worried for my safety.
I reach over the console for my purse, flipping it upside down in the passenger’s seat to watch the contents spill out.
The note she referenced drifts onto the floor.
I lunge for it, tearing it open to read…
Stevie,
Next Friday. I suggest you show this time, and don’t keep me waiting. Wear a dress.
Frost
My head falls onto the headrest, closing my eyes.
From the moment I arrived in this town, bikers have swarmed the area.
These women are connected to them. They’ve got to be.
The anger rumbles through me, and I punch the steering wheel, beeping the horn in the process and bruising the side of my hand.
Then I grip it, shaking myself back and forth before my forehead rests against it.
Wear a dress.
To hell with him.
I’m on autopilot, driving to my apartment.
The group of bikes from this morning has thinned out.
Gears and the others are finishing up. They can go to hell.
There’s no doubt in my mind this psycho Frost is in the same MC as Gears.
It’s why they’ve treated me like shit the last few days.
My guess is this Frost convict is at the top of the food chain with these tatted assholes and bitches who came at me like they did.
As I’m walking to my apartment, Gears yells out something about my hair, laughs, and the rest of them join in.
Assholes. Now I have to find another hair salon to see if they can fix this mess.
When I walk in, I instantly notice my apartment isn’t as I left it.
There’s a slight smell of smoke and musk, and my dresser drawer is slightly open.
Checking its contents, I notice a pair of underwear is missing.
It’s not too hard to figure out the missing garment since I have only a week’s worth.
Great! I guess breaking and entering along with stealing is acceptable biker behavior.
I hate them! This is probably how my sperm donor acts.
It’s a good thing he left me and my mom.
There’s no point in contacting the police to report a stolen pair of underwear.
They’ll think I’ve gone mad, which will probably happen the longer I remain here.
Seven more months and I’ll have enough money saved to go condo shopping.
To avoid dealing with these dickhead bikers, I drive for half an hour until I’m in another town.
Luckily, I find a hair salon willing to apply a darker blond to tone down the brassiness.
Instead of heading back, I find a burger restaurant to relax away from the mayhem.
I place my order and read a book on my phone while I eat.
From the corner of my eye, leather pants come into view, standing at the side of my booth.
I glance up to find, what else, a biker.
“Stephanie, right?”
My eyes narrow in on him, and it clicks. He’s the guy I saw at the gas station the first day I rolled into town. I remember him handing my credit card back after I dropped it, and he called me by my name.
“Yes.”
“We met at the gas station. The credit—”
“Yes, I remember.”
I let out a frustrated breath. These towns have a biker infestation.
Today is not my day, and I’m not in the mood to entertain some guy’s fantasies.
After dealing with Gears, the psycho women, and a nutcase inmate, all I want is a quiet evening to myself.
A burger and a beer. That’s it! Is it too much to ask?
“Not to be rude, but I’d like to be alone.”
He slides into the seat across from me. “Where are you from?”
I drop my phone into my purse, sit back, and ask, “Why?”
“Not very friendly. Never even asked my name.”
No matter how handsome this guy is there’s no way I’d hook up with a biker. “Listen. I’ve had a really bad day. All I want is to eat and head home.”
He rests his forearms on the table and leans forward. “The names, Ace, and I’m all ears. Tell me what’s troubling you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
I’m on my last nerve, so if Ace doesn’t get in his lane, who knows what I’ll do. He’s no longer handsome, just annoying.
“Look, Ace. I’m surrounded by bikers. I live above a bike shop. I’m visiting a convict biker. You guys are everywhere.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “So, if you don’t mind, please let me eat in peace.”
Ace purses his lips, face tightens from annoyance, and stands. “Nothing wrong with bikers, Stephanie.”
“Never said there was. Some Wolves of Mayhem guys are okay.”
As soon as I mention Wolves of Mayhem, his body stiffens, nose flares, and he’s grinding his teeth, which tells me I made a huge mistake.
Ace clenches his fists at his side, then places his hands on the table, and through gritted teeth, says, “Watch yourself.”
I’m not sure if he’s warning me about him or the Wolves of Mayhem, but he’s out the door before I can ask for clarification…which I have no intention of doing. This exchange ruined my appetite, so I push the burger away, tossing money on the table, and return home to sort out my next step.
The rest of the weekend is without incident, and Jasper and the crew treat me the same as they did since meeting me.
It’s a slow week for the dead. We meet up twice to clean up the aftermath of an altercation gone wrong…
or as I’m guessing, the aftermath of someone crossing the wrong person or persons.
At least there aren’t any dead bodies for us to dispose of.
It’s Friday and no call, so I sit and make a list of the pros and cons regarding what to do.
Meet this inmate or ignore him. At least if I meet him, Gears and those crazy women will get off my back.
If I ignore him, I’d hate to find out if Lynette’s threat comes true.
Bald isn’t my thing, nor is a black eye.
I’ll visit this psycho convict and see what this is all about.
Hopefully, I’ll get answers to how he knows me and what he wants?
If this is about sex, it isn’t happening.
Since moving here, I’ve neglected shaving my pubic hair, and this letter gives me more incentive not to.
I’m so hairy he’ll mistake me for a cat.
I also didn’t shave my armpits or legs for the past week and half.
If he even thinks about going down on me, he’ll be coughing up hairballs for days.
To make it difficult, I’m wearing jeans, a t-shirt, sweater, and a coat.
By the time he takes off my layers, the hour will be up, and I’ll be on my merry way.
They open the prison gates and bring me inside an office by the front doors.
I’m asked to sign a consent for a search, which I reluctantly do.
A female officer pats me down, checking under my sweater and t-shirt, unbuttoning my jeans, and swiping a hand inside.
Anger and embarrassment reddens my face.
I have to go through this shit for some unknown criminal.
She steps back, nods to another officer, and I’m guided down a hall to a room with a barred window, a bed, a table and a couple of chairs, and a bathroom.
“Miss Adams. My name is Stevens, and I’ll be bringing Mr. Tate in soon. The bathroom is stocked with toiletries and condoms. You’ll get two hours.”
“Two hours? I thought this was only an hour.”
“No ma’am. Is there a problem?”
My eyes fall to the bed, and I swallow hard. How did I get here? I don’t want to have sex with some scum of an inmate. This is coercion.
I clench the belt on my coat tighter, and ask, “What if I said there was a problem?”
His face falls into a serious expression. “Then you need to tell me.”
Don’t do it, Stevie.
But this might be my out.
For the inmate, yes. Outside of here, you’ll be asking for trouble.
I let out a small laugh. “It’s nothing serious. I just usually bring my clitoral vibrator. You know, it helps me out.”
Stevens is expressionless. “Maybe next time.” He walks to the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
To distance myself from the door, I stand by the window, arms folded, and look outside. There are large grass and concrete areas surrounded by high electric fences. Security walks the perimeter, holding leashed dogs. This place isn’t very different from what I’ve seen in the movies.
The door opens, and I turn to face it. Stevens comes in first, followed by the inmate, who has to duck down to pass through the door. I stumble back, pressing against the wall.
Holy shit!