Chopper

 

The call came from Red at four in the afternoon, while Chopper was tinkering with an engine in the garage at Bike Out of Hell.

 

“We got her, Chop. You want her in the room?”

 

He wiped his hands, a grin spreading involuntarily across his face. “Yeah. Lock the door, but don’t tie her up. She’s not going anywhere.” He’d had reinforced locking mechanisms installed on every door in the compound a while back. At the time, it had seemed like an extra precaution, but now, he was glad he did. No telling what a girl who’d been keeping company with Spike Lawler was capable of doing.

 

“You sure?” Red asked. “This one’s pretty feisty.”

 

Chopper chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He smirked. “Just leave her in there to think things over.”

 

“If you say so,” Red answered. The line went dead, and Chopper left the shop immediately, not even caring that his hands were still covered in grease. As an afterthought, he went back and grabbed one of the cleaning rags out of the crate in the garage and wiped quickly at the worst of the smudges. Not great, but it would have to do. And besides, it hardly mattered what Spike’s woman thought of him. With that thought still prominent in his mind, he made his way back to the main compound building.

 

She was on the third floor, in a room at the back from which he knew she couldn’t see anything. In the hall, he passed Red and the boys who’d taken her. They exchanged nods, but Chopper didn’t want to stop and talk to them. He was focused on one thing only.

 

Standing in front of the door, he fished a keyring out of his pocket and selected the key with the number that matched the room. Without giving himself time to second-guess, he unlocked the door and threw it open so that it banged against the frame. Years of interaction with rival gang members had taught him that the element of surprise almost always gave him the upper hand in any confrontation, including simple conversations. Spike’s old lady was no exception.

 

Then he strode across the threshold and saw her, and the world came screaming to a halt.

 

Memories from three months before crashed into his head in full, vivid color. He remembered her creamy skin, the way her dark hair fell across her face, how her eyes caught the yellow light in the shitty motel he’d taken her to. But mostly he remembered how tight she was, and how she had grabbed his hair and lifted her hips against his mouth as he went down on her. Never in his life did he imagine he’d see her again, and definitely not under these circumstances. But there she was: the best one night stand he’d ever had. Hell, she might’ve just been the best sex he’d had, period.

 

Chopper could tell the shock was mutual. As soon as she saw him, the color drained out of her strikingly beautiful face. He watched her struggle to keep her jaw from dropping, and concluded that there must have been some kind of mistake. Either that or someone was playing a very nasty prank on him, and Chopper didn’t enjoy pranks.

 

He stood in the doorway and looked her over carefully, as if she might have some sort of indication of the truth on her person. One thing was for sure — she didn’t look pregnant. He felt sharp annoyance rising. This couldn’t be right. Before she had the chance to say anything, Chopper stepped back out and shut the door.

 

He turned around and went to get some answers. Red wasn’t known to make mistakes, but there was a first time for everything.

 

Chopper found him in the game room, feet on the sofa, watching TV. When he saw the look on Chopper’s face, he put his feet down and stood up. “What’s the problem, boss?” he asked.

 

“Are you sure this is the right girl?” Chopper fought not to sound too demanding. He trusted Red, but this was just too great a coincidence.

 

Red’s brow furrowed. “I’m positive, brother. We cased the place for a week. She’s the only one there who matches the description you gave us.” He looked like he wanted to remark further on the quality of Mongol women, but chose to hold his tongue. “If she’s fighting you, she’s lyin’. Has to be.”

 

Chopper sat down on the arm of the couch to consider his options. True, he hadn’t yet asked her about her own identity. He felt sure, however, that the girl would not be compelled to tell him the truth.

 

“How’d you get her?” he asked. As Red recounted the details of the kidnapping, he only half-listened. The wheels were turning in his mind. If she was really who he needed her to be in this situation, then she’d no doubt have some incredibly valuable information that he could use to his advantage if he got her to admit it. And if she was the other person he thought she was, then maybe he could get her to warm his bed a few times — if she forgave him for sending his men after her.

 

Still, the turn of events left him vaguely unsettled. Chopper wasn’t a superstitious man, but he wasn’t a fan of coincidences, either. To him, they always meant something weird.

 

He realized suddenly that Red had stopped talking and was awaiting a response. He waved his hand sheepishly. “Sorry, man. Guess I zoned out for a second there.”

 

Red frowned. “What’s the deal? Did we fuck it up somehow?”

 

Chopper clapped him on the shoulder as he strode past. “Nah, it’s all good. Maybe I’m just a little paranoid.” Red didn’t say anything, but Chopper felt his eyes on his back until he left the game room behind. Someday soon, when the Mongols were nothing more than a memory in this town, he’d tell Red the whole thing, and they’d laugh about it over beers. If it wasn’t so stressful, it would’ve been hilarious right that second.

 

But it was also maddening. Now that he knew the quality of the lays Spike Lawler was getting, Chopper couldn’t prepare himself for the sudden wave of resentment and envy. Lawler wouldn’t deserve a woman like that if his dick was made of solid gold — and he probably couldn’t satisfy her, either. What the hell was this girl playing at, messing around with a dog like Spike? Though their encounter had been brief, Chopper could have sworn she wasn’t the type to get involved with the Mongols. That was part of the reason he’d been so determined to have her. He knew there was more to the story, something she wasn’t telling anyone.

 

And he was determined to find out what it was.

 

# # #

 

The second time he entered the room, she was ready for him, her face set into a stern, cold-eyed expression. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest. “My name is Chopper,” he said conversationally. “Who are you?”

 

Her glare was piercing. He thought the ambient temperature might have actually dropped a degree or two. “Kelsey Jones,” she replied coolly. Then, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, pulling women off the street like that? I’ve never felt so violated in my life!”

 

He shrugged and turned the question on her. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, hanging around with Spike Lawler?”

 

She blanched, but only for a second. Chopper eyed her steadily, wondering if there was anything she could do that would make her less exquisite. “Oh, God,” she was saying now. He watched her lips form the words. “Is this about Spike?”

 

“You’re damn right it is.” Chopper straightened and took a step closer to the bed. He expected her to shrink away, but she stayed exactly where she was, shoulders squared and chin up. He had to respect defiance like that; it was the same thing he’d do if he were in her position. He stopped, and the two of them stared each other down for several seconds.

 

Her face was impressively unreadable. What could she possibly be thinking? Did she remember their meeting in the bar, and if so, could he use it to his advantage? He decided to de-escalate the situation and see how far diplomacy would get him.

 

“Relax,” he said, breaking the silence. Kelsey did not relax. He held up his hands, palms out. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Then he turned to the side and lifted his shirt a bit to show her his empty waistband. “I’m not even armed. I was in the bike shop before this, see?” He displayed his hands again, which were still streaked with grease after his poor cleanup job. “All I want to do is talk. Is that all right with you?”

 

She seemed unimpressed. “You kidnapped me so we could talk?”

 

Again, Chopper shrugged. “I thought you’d know that’s just how things work around here. Me and Spike, we don’t have a real great relationship. I can’t just call him up and say, ‘Hey buddy, you mind if I borrow your old lady? I swear I’ll give her back tomorrow.’ I don’t have to tell you, he wouldn’t take kindly to that.”

 

She snorted. Chopper continued. “But the fact is, he has a bunch of shit I want, and I had to find some way to put his balls in a vice, so to speak. That’s where you come in.”

 

“And what? I’m supposed to help you take him down?” She spoke flatly, her voice a far cry from the moans of pleasure Chopper remembered. He felt a little sorry for her, but at the same time, it couldn’t be helped.

 

“Well, I don’t want to be rude,” he said, “but you don’t really have a choice.” He thought about it for a moment. “That is, you do, but your other choices are shit compared to the one I’m about to give you. Get it?”

 

She sighed. “I got it.”

 

“Good.” He pulled over the only chair in the room and planted himself on it, a good eight feet back from her. There was no harm in giving her the space she clearly desired; if she felt more comfortable, there was a higher chance she’d cooperate without a struggle. His strongest move was to make himself look decent in comparison to Spike. Piece of cake.

 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and gazed deep into her icy blue eyes. “Let’s talk business.”