“How’d you sleep?” Ironside asked as he unlocked the cuff around her ankle.
“Why do you care?” Peyton asked as she rubbed her ankle a moment.
“I don’t.”
“Then fuck you.”
“You already did that.”
“Yeah, well, it was a mistake.”
“One of several.”
“What’s going to happen now?”
“Now? Now we’re going to have breakfast, then I’m going to take you to the clubhouse. You’re going to answer some questions, then I’m going to turn you loose.”
She stared at him a moment. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“So you’re just going to let me walk away if I answer some questions? You could have done that last night.”
“I didn’t say I would let you walk away. If you give us some good intel on the Saracens, I’m inclined to believe you about this Melissa chick, and I will take you to the train station. If I think you’re lying, I’m going to finish what Honey couldn’t, then I’m chucking your ass off on the south side of I-90 as a warning to other Saracen bitches who wander into Knights territory.”
“I’m not leaving without Melissa!”
Ironside shrugged. “Then you can wait for her at the train station. Either way, not my problem anymore.”
She stood up. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
***
“What do you know about the guns the Saracens buy?” Whiteshirt asked.
“Nothing. I didn’t even know they ran guns. Drugs either. I’ve told you that already,” Peyton replied.
Dolch, the Knights Sergeant at Arms propped on the table. “So you’ve said. You don’t know much about anything.”
“What part of me saying I don’t know anything are you having trouble understanding? I have said all along that I don’t know anything. I’m was there for one reason.”
“Which was?” Whiteshirt asked.
“Because I had nowhere else to go.”
“There are women’s shelters all over the city.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t need counseling. I needed a place to sleep and food to eat, and I was willing to trade my body for that. For a while anyway.”
“Who did you say was the Vice President?”
“Pogo. I don’t know his real name. Just like I don’t know Dolch’s real name.”
“How do you know that isn’t his name?”
“Dolch? That’s German for dagger. Call it a guess.”
The three men chuckled. “Conrad Fischer,” Dolch said.
“Why didn’t Melissa show up?” Whiteshirt asked.
“I don’t know. I wish I did. I’m afraid something happened to her.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“Do girls disappear a lot?”
“I’ve heard rumors, but I’ve not see it myself. I’ve only been there a few weeks.”
“Four, right?”
“Three. Well, three and a few days.”
They were circling back over the same ground. If she was lying to them, she was well briefed. She’d told them a couple of tidbits of information they didn’t know, such as a rough count of the number of active members, a crude sketch of the inside of their clubhouse, and that the club left in force every Wednesday after lunch, but nothing very useful. She’d also confirmed, corrected or claimed ignorance on every question they asked her to try to trip her up.
They men were looking at each other when her phone rang. “Who’s Andrew?” Ironside asked as the name appeared on the display.
“A friend,” she said, trying to be calm.
“You better answer it then. Put it on speaker,” he said, his voice as cold as an artic wind.
“Hey, Baby! Where are you?” the voice on the phone asked.
“I stayed with a friend last night. I got drunk and passed out.”
There was a pause. “A friend, huh?” Andrew asked, his voice cool. “What’s her name?”
“Honey. I met her at a bar and we sort of got close. You know how it is.”
“Uh-huh. Where are you now?”
“Still there.”
“Where’s there?”
“I don’t know. I was drunk, remember? But I’ll be back there pretty soon, I think,” she said as the three men glared at her.
“We’ll talk about this when you get back.”
“I’m sure we will,” she said softly when he was gone.
“That was Andrew Moore,” Ironside said.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been lying to us all along.”
“No!”
“Funny how you failed to mention something like you were Andrew’s old lady.”
“I’m not! Everything I’ve told you is the truth. I just didn’t tell you I was Andrew’s favorite!”
“Why not?”
“Why do you think? Because I didn’t want you to stomp me into a wet spot!”
“Get her out of here,” Ironside said as he pushed back.
“Wait! Now that you know, I’ll tell you where Andrew lives! Will that be useful?”
“Where?”
“I don’t know the exact address—wait, wait!” she cried when they started sliding back again. “I can show you! It’s on Grande Center in Westlake. There are only a few houses there. It’s in the cul-de-sac. I’ll show you on the computer!”
“How do we know you aren’t lying again?” Dolch asked.
“I didn’t lie! Please! I just didn’t tell you I was fucking Andrew. Everything else was the truth!”
“The President’s old lady? Why are you leaving?”
“I’m not his old lady. I’m just the chick he’s fucking. I don’t owe him anything. You’d be doing me a favor if you kicked his ass.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m tired of him slapping me around, that’s why. I told you that already. I just didn’t tell you it was Andrew who was slapping me around.”
Ironside thought a moment. Knowing where Andrew lived would be a useful piece of information. “Get a computer. What’s the house look like?”
“Big. White brick. Two story with a funny-looking red roof. Lots of trees in the yard.”
A few moments later a computer arrived and she typed on it a moment. “There! That’s it!” she said, pointing to a picture of the house.
Ironside turned the computer to look. It was exactly as she described. He grinned at Whiteshirt and Dolch. “This stays in the room.”
“Agreed,” the men said. They all knew this was an ace in the hole, and they wanted to protect it until they needed to use it.
“Will you let me go now?” Peyton asked.
“What else do you know about Andrew?”
“He likes to fuck. He likes to hurt people. He has money and he likes to flash it around. His house is full of expensive junk. He likes to run down the women of the club. He has bad breath and he isn’t nearly as good a lover as he thinks he is.”
“That it?”
“What else do you want to know? His cock isn’t as big as yours, nor is he as good in bed. He’s big, but not as big as you. He has a new, red, Cadillac Escalade. He rides a black Harley-Davison, but I don’t know what kind. Umm…” she paused as she thought. “He likes fast food, pizza and beer.”
“That’s enough,” Ironside said. She was obviously spilling her guts, but she didn’t know anything else useful. The one gem had been Andrew’s address, though he was secretly pleased to know his cock was bigger.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“We need to talk about it. Dolch, take her out and have someone sit on her.”
***
“What do you think?” Ironside asked when Dolch returned.
“I think she’s a spy,” Whiteshirt said.
“Why would she give up Andrew’s house?” Ironside asked.
“We don’t know it is his house.” Dolch pointed out.
“She described it before she saw it.”
“Yeah? So?” Whiteshirt asked.
Ironside gave him that one. “Put a couple of girls in a car and have them go check it out.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“Then nothing. I just want to know if it’s really Andrew’s house in case we have to move on it.”
“I think I should take her to the other side and drop her off,” Dolch said.
“You don’t think she’s telling us the truth?”
“Doesn’t matter. A Saracen comes north of I-90, we kill them if it’s a brother, and we toss them back if it’s a woman.”
Ironside nodded. “Agreed. She shouldn’t have left out the bit about Andrew.”
Whiteshirt sat back in satisfaction. “I think that’s a wise decision.”
Ironside grinned. “Especially since it’s what you wanted to do all along?”
Whiteshirt grinned. “Like I said, a wise decision.”
“This is my mess, I’ll deal with it,” Ironside said, pushing back from the table.
He stepped out of the room they called kirche, German for church. Peyton was sitting in a chair, looking miserable as Honey and two other club girls glared at her. He nodded to Lolly as he passed, letting him know he was taking responsibility for her. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Back to the other side.”
“Kick her ass!” Honey snarled, her face bruised and swollen.
Ironside ignored her as he reached down and took her arm.
“Good,” Peyton said softly.
Ironside blinked in surprise. “Good? No begging? No trying to explain how you didn’t really lie?”
“No. I have to go back.”
“Why?”
“Because Melissa didn’t get away. If I don’t go back, Andrew will take it out on her. He knows she’s my best friend. I told you he liked to hurt people.”
“Then you’re getting what you want,” he said as he dragged her along to the door.
“Will you do me a favor?”
“You’re in no position to be asking for favors.”
“Please. Do me this one thing since I gave you Andrew’s address.”
“What?” he asked as they banged through the clubhouse doors.
“Don’t hit me in the face. Andrew will see the bruises and know I didn’t stay at a friend’s house. He already thinks I’m lying, and that will only make it worse.”
They mounted up, but as they rode away, Ironside thought about Peyton. She was loyal, he’d give her that. He also believed she was telling the truth. Had been telling the truth all along, with the exception of being Andrew’s girl. Getting his home address, more than anything, convinced him she was telling the truth. The members of the club protected their home addresses at all costs because it put brothers in danger. He assumed the Saracens did, as well, since they didn’t even have a sniff of where any of them lived…until now.
He pulled into a church parking lot that adjoined a pedestrian bridge across the I-90. It was both clubs standard drop point, if the person was ambulatory. The clubs would drop on their side and allow the person to walk across. She stepped off the bike and stood tall waiting. There were tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t begging, not like most of the women they tossed back.
“Just do it,” she said.
He didn’t want to hit her, but he couldn’t just let her walk either. Without warning, he gut punched her but pulled the power.
She woofed out air and doubled over, holding her stomach before straightening with a sneer. He’d obviously pulled the punch, otherwise she’d be on her ass. “You punch like a pansy.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You want me to try again?”
She relaxed, knowing another one wasn’t coming. “No.” She forced herself to stand straight. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not hitting me in the face. For pulling the punch.” She paused. “For last night.”
“Don’t let me catch you on this side of I-90 again.”
She nodded, picked up her duffle, and walked up the ramp and across the interstate as he watched.