“Do tell me Donald, what brilliance has your mind come up with. I’m so intrigued. I’m sure it is something fantastic, since you can’t even keep one prisoner in our grasp. A prisoner whom, I might add, could not even walk.”
“The bastard’s funeral. Word at the club they own is there will be a closed funeral, but the gates to the compound will be open to let all the riders out to follow the procession. They plan on riding their bikes to the cemetery. We could make our move then.”
I listen to him and think about it. As plans go it is lacking, but the gates being open…with enough firepower I could take at least one of the bitches who owe me and demand the other in trade. Besides, I think playing with Miss Nicole for a while might be fun. She’s got a lot more fire than I remembered. Women with fire are the best ones to break. I would have to cut that guttersnipe out of her first, still…that could be fun. The thought of having Nicole chained on my bed with her ass up in the air…just the image makes my dick jerk in reaction.
“We’ll need more men. See if you can manage to get your ass up and do that much. When is this funeral?”
“In two days,” Donald says, standing back up still dazed. I take satisfaction in that.
“Then get busy.”
“Yes, sir,” he states, stumbling his way out of my hotel room.
“And Donald?” I ask, just as he opens the door. By this time, I’m sitting on the sofa, staring at the television I don’t have on. I don’t watch television. I just prefer the view to that of the imbecile, Donald’s, face.
“Yes, Mr. Kavanagh?”
“Do not fail me again. You won’t get another chance. Do I make myself clear?”
“Ye..yes, sir.”
“Very well.”
The door clicks as he leaves. And I lay my head back, taking a sip of the scotch in my hand. This entire trip has been one failure after another. With the exception of Dragon West’s death. That one turned out rather well. If only I had taken out the beautiful bitch Nicole with him. Still, this way I can make her suffer in other—more enjoyable ways. So, perhaps all is not lost. She’s not exactly my taste, but she does have fire in her and I do so love to watch that crumble in a woman.
I look around the small hotel room. It’s a two room ‘suite’, and using that word to describe it is laughable. This damn town has so little to offer. The air is starting to stagnate around me. This little safari into the Appalachian Mountains can’t end soon enough for me. How people live like this is beyond me. I pick up the phone placed on the end table beside me.
“Front Desk.” The grainy voice comes through after I dial zero.
“I need maid service, please.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send them up right away.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up wondering what sort of specimen I will get today. Yesterday, she was nothing to look at. Still, I prefer watching a woman clean up after me more than anything else I could be doing. It takes around ten minutes and finally there’s a knock at the door.
I walk slowly. I have nothing but time and I can’t really travel freely around town. I’m sure the Savage MC knows by now who to blame for the untimely death of two of their own. Especially since one of them is their…oh wait, was their President.
I open the door to find a rather haggard, beat up brunette in wrinkled jeans and a faded yellow t-shirt. Not my taste on a normal day. She’s slim, though, and if I ignore the wrinkles in her face and the sunk in haunted look around her eyes, I’ll enjoy her.
“You called for a maid?” She asks and her voice is husky. Probably from a four-pack a day habit judging by the smell of her. I’ll have to bathe her. There’s no telling what I could catch from her otherwise.
“Yes, my bedroom and bath need cleaning. You may start in the bathroom.”
She takes off in the direction of the bath pulling along a cleaning cart. I tag the Do Not Disturb hanger on the door, close it and lock it. Why can’t maids in hotels wear the black costume? It would be so much more appealing.
“What is your name?” I ask her following her into the bath area. She jumps. Oh look, I think I scared her. She has no idea how scared she should be.
“K…Kayla,” she whispers turning to look at me. Upon first glance I would have imagined she was in her late thirties. Now I can see that she’s just had a rough life. She’s probably late twenties at the most.
“Kayla, tell me. Do you have a man at home?”
“I…I have a boyfriend.” Her eyes are dark and probably her best feature. They go wide when she sees me push the cleaning cart back out into the main area. She looks afraid, which is good. She should be. Still, does she not notice the suit and the expensive diamond on my hand? She should consider herself lucky that I am lowering my standards this once.
“That is a shame.”
“It is?” She slides to the side like she’s going to get away from me. It’s cute. They always run at first.
“Does he give you pleasure, Kayla?”
“I…I don’t think we should be talking about this.”