Other than the construction, everything was exactly the same as when she left. The front door opened into a makeshift office foyer, complete with a potted palm, a rack of magazines and a water cooler, all designed to throw nosy cops off the scent.
Gail, the house mama and pretend receptionist, sat behind an empty desk filing her nails. She had grown her platinum-blond hair down to her waist, and her breasts threatened to explode from her low-cut fluorescent-green tank top. She waved absently when Jimmy shoved Dawn forward.
“Long time. No see.”
“Gail.” Dawn bit back a grimace. Gail had made it clear from day she joined the club that she wasn’t interested in friendship, bonding, or female solidarity, and she definitely wasn’t interested in anyone who might be a threat to her position. Gail looked out for only Gail. In that way, she was very much like Jimmy.
“Quit yapping.” Jimmy pushed Dawn into the clubhouse proper. Her nose wrinkled when she inhaled the familiar stench of unwashed bodies, stale sweat, cigarette smoke and beer, as she fought back the stomach churning memories associated with the unpleasant scent.
A few Brethren members watched TV in one corner, and another cleaned guns at the worn kitchen table. Clothes hung off the free weight machine, but the pool table was busy, as usual. The bikers she knew smirked as she walked past and a few newbies gave her quizzical looks. But of course no one talked to her, because Jimmy hadn’t given permission. She was nothing here until he acknowledged her.
He steered her into a small room containing a bed and dresser. Jimmy flicked on the light and closed the door, then pointed her to the bed.
Dawn’s pulse kicked up a notch and she took a seat, hoping he would let her call someone to look after the girls if she was compliant. But when he leaned against the door and folded his arms, his face twisted into a cruel, victorious smile, Dawn’s hands clenched on the rough polyester bedspread. There would be no mercy for her tonight.
“Lucky for you I gotta stay here until things get settled. Otherwise I would have taken you home to hear you scream.” He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and dangled it in front of her. “Not that you’ll get off that easy. We can always muffle the sound.”
“Let me call someone to look after the girls, Jimmy, and I’ll do what you want.”
Jimmy snapped the bandanna between his hands. “Don’t give a fucking damn about those brats. Consider it part of your punishment for trying to humiliate me at the bar.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to do.”
He struck her across the face with the back of his hand and she fell sideways on the bed, her cheek throbbing.
“I forgot what a goddamn slut you are. You loved being up there on the dance floor showing off to the crowd, practically fucking that Sinner in front of my brothers. You’re gonna fucking dance for us, but it’s me you’ll be touching, me you’ll be fucking, and it’s me you’ll be begging for mercy, which I’m not gonna give.”
“I’ll never dance for you, Jimmy.” She pushed herself up, bracing for another blow. “Not again.”
This time he just laughed. “You will dance. ’Cause if you don’t I’ll send someone for those girls and I’ll kill them in front of you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’m president of the damn Brethren.” Jimmy reached for the door handle. “Soon to be Viper’s right hand man as president of his key support club. With the Jacks at my back, nothing’s gonna stop me, love, and no one’s coming to save you.”
She threw herself at the door after the dead bolt slid into place, pounding on it and beating it with her fists. Then she screamed until her voice was raw. But of course no one came to help her. Not now.
After all, no one defied the president.
*
He knew he was too late when he pulled up to the curb in front of Dawn’s house. First, she usually left on the light on the front porch. Second, the front door was partially open, and it seemed no one had called the police. Third, the TV was blaring hip-hop and Dawn was a jazz kind of girl.
Heart in his throat, Cade parked his bike under a streetlight and drew his gun from his cut. If the neighbors didn’t notice an open door and a loud TV, they sure as heck wouldn’t notice a biker with a gun, and if anyone was inside the darkened house, he hoped to hell they ran in his direction.
He approached from the side, peering in the living room window as he made his way to the back door. Using a file from his cut, he jimmied the lock and stepped into the kitchen. Hearing no sound, he crossed into the living room. The streetlights shone through the opposite window highlighting the chaos inside. Overturned chairs, furniture askew. He spotted a gym bag, half open and stuffed with clothes, near the entrance to the kitchen as well as a princess suitcase and a small stuffed toy. Dawn’s purse lay open on the floor.
His hand tightened into a fist, and his chest heaved. Jimmy had his girls. The Brethren would patch-over to the Jacks. The Sinners would be destroyed. And all because he didn’t do what he should have done weeks ago.
He turned to leave and then he heard a sound. Soft. Slightly muffled.