Slash

 

Damn. That’s all I can think about that little piece of ass I just deflowered. Everything about her was… perfect. Honestly, I never would’ve known she was a virgin if I had just picked her up at a bar or a party like I do pretty much every girl I’ve ever fucked since back in high school. She knew her way around a cock, that’s for sure. And she knew what she was doing when she crawled on top of it, too.

 

Basically, she knew everything she needed to know, so it seemed unfathomable to me that she was a virgin. But I believed her. I believed she wasn’t lying when she said no man had ever fucked her before. So here I was. It was, in a sense, a kind of leap of faith. But I trusted my gut, and my gut told me she wasn’t lying to me. How could she be?

 

She seemed so nervous beforehand, and afterward, she almost clung to me. I felt like I had to force her off, or else she’d be all over me. No, this was a virgin. I was sure of it – it wasn’t just a fantasy. So, I took it at face value and let it be what it was.

 

Erin was so totally different from the biker chicks I usually bedded. She was sweet where they were often harsh or angular. She was deserving and appreciative where they were too often devious. More importantly, she seemed to actually give a shit what was going on. She didn’t want some bullshit from a guy who was going to be shitty to her, and she didn’t seem the type to be all up in my grill because I didn’t make her come or some stupid shit like that.

 

First of all, I had totally made her come. Secondly, she knew that this was a business transaction, nothing more, nothing less. But most importantly, she knew how to please a man, and virgin or not, that was an essential thing to understand. I gave that girl a lot of credit – she pleased the fuck out of me.

 

I have never come like that. But even if she is different, that makes me want her even more. My loins pine for her. I want to bed her again, as quickly and as soon as possible. I know that is highly unlikely; she is a good girl, and I am a part of a biker gang. But goddamn, when I said she had her tendrils in me, I meant it. I was smitten; I was flummoxed. I want to fuck her again, and again, and again.

 

However, the truth is, the first thing I have to do is get back to my boss. The shit about Marcelo can’t wait, and Jerome will be excited to hear that I have infiltrated the Tattooed Angels’ scheme. Whatever they were planning, this auction had been just a part of it. While the girls would make the chunk of the change – and, quite frankly, they deserved to – the Tattooed Angles were making a good bit of money on the exchange, thanks in no small part to Marcelo.

 

Now, I have no idea if Marcelo’s boss knows what the score is. He probably doesn’t give a shit, so long as he is raking in the dough. But somebody has to do something about this. After all, they are stealing girls from our jurisdiction – and they are doing it without our permission. We have to take these bastards down.

 

So, my first move, then, is to see Jerome. I wait until nightfall, when the next meeting is supposed to start, and make my way to the Warehouse, where I know Jerome will be. It takes forever, but finally, his goons let me see him. By this point, I’ve already had a couple of beers and am steeled with confidence that I know what I’m doing.

 

But the truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never played reconnaissance before, so I don’t really know what the score is here. But when Goon 1 lets me in to see Jerome, I’m set for what I have to say.

 

“Slash,” he says when I walk into his office, “good to see you. Terrance over here says you been doing a bit of freelancing on us. Now, I’m gonna be honest with you, Slash: I fucking hate freelancers. They tend to mess up the product. But Terrance over here, he says you have something interesting to tell me. So, I’m gonna be as open as a teenager losing her virginity and listen to what you have to say. For every bit I don’t like, I’m gonna have Terrance beat your ass. Does that sound good?”

 

I nod. “Listen, boss. I got news on… on Marcelo.”

 

“Marcelo?!” Jerome intones, clearly agitated. He doesn’t like hearing about Marcelo at all, much less from an underling like me. “What the fuck do you know about Marcelo, rookie?”

 

“Okay, first of all,” I say, bristling at his tone, “I’m not a rookie, boss. I’ve been around for a while now. And I hear things, you know? You keep sending me out on reconnaissance missions. I’m bound to hear some shit, right?”

 

“Okay, fair enough,” Jerome says through his thick beard. “So, what have you heard, son?”

 

“Marcelo’s been pimping virgins, boss. Been making a killing off of ‘em, too.”

 

“Aw, shit, Slash,” he says emphatically, dismissing me with a wave of his hand, “everybody knows that. What the fuck new news do you have for me?”

 

“Well, I’ve got an in.”

 

That stops Jerome cold.

 

“The fuck you mean, you’ve got an in?” he asks.

 

“Girl I slept with last night,” I tell him, “she knows his ex.”

 

“Is that so? Well now, that’s a horse of a different fuckin’ color, ain’t it? Tell me, Slash, what the fuck did this girl say about Marcelo?”

 

“Said he’s sweet.”

 

“The fuck?!”

 

“He was obviously grooming her,” I say quietly. “He wanted to fuck her himself if he hadn’t gotten a good bidder.”

 

“A bidder? What – he’s auctioning off their pussies or something?”

 

“Something like that. I got her.”

 

“How much?” Jerome asks inquisitively.

 

“What I do with my own money is my business, boss.”

 

“So it is,” Jerome responds, in an almost awed hush. He’s clearly never been challenged like that before, but goddammit, this is honor among thieves, and I’m not about to tell him how much of my own money I paid to deflower this bitch.

 

The thought immediately makes me abashed. Erin is not a bitch. She’s not like any girl I’ve laid before. She’s something else. Something special. I’m a little bit crushing on her, if we’re being completely honest.

 

“Okay,” Jerome says, “so what did you learn?”

 

“I learned that Marcelo is grooming bitches, for one,” I tell him honestly. “I also learned that Marcelo has been fucking some girl – a friend of the girl I bid on last night.”

 

“Go on,” Jerome invites.

 

“Well, he likes his girls pure,” I explain. “He likes ‘em with a sweet complexion and a hymen, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

 

“It’s not what I’m wondering, goddammit. I want to know what the son of a bitch’s weaknesses are. I want to know how we can get to him. I want to know how the fuck he got to be the second in command of our chief rivals, goddammit!”

 

I nod. “I think I can find out, boss. The girl that… that I brought home last night… she has an in. Her friend got her into the virgin auction last night. She’s his ex.”

 

“His ex?” Jerome utters curiously.

 

“Yeah, boss,” I say excitedly. “I can find out what the deal is from her, if that works for you.”

 

Jerome rubs his beard. “Yeah, I like that,” he says casually. “I like that a lot. Do it, Slash. Find out what this broad knows. And find it out quickly, before I change my mind. I don’t like to be kept waiting, capiche?”

 

“Capiche, Boss.”

 

“Okay,” he answers. “Now then, if there’s nothing else, for the love of God, get the fuck out of my sight.” Just as I turn to leave, I hear him say, “Oh, and Slash?” I turn back to him with an inquisitive look on my face. “You did good on this one. But if I ever hear you’re freelancing behind my back again, I’ll kick your ass myself. Got me?”

 

“Yes, sir,” I say with obedience.

 

As I leave Jerome’s office, I feel like I’m walking on air. This is a big step up for me. Jerome has entrusted me, me, with a fact-finding mission. If I do this up right – if I manage to pull it off – I may see elevated status in the club. Either way, now he has to pay attention to me. I’m more than just muscle. I can do shit.

 

It also gives me an excuse to go track down Erin. I didn’t get her phone number before she left, and all I know about her is that she works at a bar with her friend, Marcelo’s ex. It’s not a lot to go on, but it’s enough. I think I can make something happen with that much information. I’m going to have to – Jerome is counting on me, and if I don’t report back to him with at least something on Marcelo, I’m as good as dead.

 

I turn back out of the Warehouse and jump on my bike. I’m going to have to start searching as soon as possible if I’m going to get on Marcelo’s trail. Besides, if it gives me a chance to see Erin again, that gives me all the incentive in the world.

 

The first thing I do is start casing around town. The chances that I’d just randomly run into Erin are pretty negligible, but there’s only so many places she could be. She said she works at a bar, so I start by going into the bars I know that don’t have MC affiliations. She clearly wasn’t a biker chick, so she’d most likely be in a non-MC bar if she were working.

 

I start with a sports bar on Main Street. It’s gross inside. Not, like, disgusting, but it’s the kind of bar where fratty douchebags hang out and drink cheap beer while watching football games and incessantly checking their phones to see how their fantasy teams are doing. It’s the second worst kind of bar, second only to rich people bars. Since we don’t have any of those in town, this is as bad as it gets.

 

I go up to the bar, getting some side-eye stares from a group of frat boys sitting at a table eating chicken wings. The bartender looks terrified of me. Good. I like it when people like this fear me.

 

“Hey,” I say gruffly.

 

“H-hi,” the bartender answers.

 

“Do you by any chance know if a girl named Erin works here?”

 

“Erin?”

 

“Yeah,” I say soberly, “Erin McManus.”

 

“Never heard of her,” he tells me, shaking his head.

 

“Okay,” I say, turning and walking away.

 

Well, that was a dud, and I had to sully my good name going into this shithole. Irritated, I turn and head out the door. There’s a bar across the street I can try.

 

Twenty minutes later, I’m back on my bike. The answer was the same in that bar and the two that came after it. I cruise around town, heading for some other bars I know about. I stop at a place called Cupid’s, an ugly little dive. Again, I go up to the bar and ask about Erin, and again, the bartender doesn’t know a thing about her. But then, a drunk middle-aged guy in a denim jacket pulls on my arm. I’m about to slug the guy when I realize he has something to say.

 

“I think I know the girl you’re looking for, man,” he says, slurring his speech.

 

“I doubt it,” I hiss out, pulling my arm away.

 

“Erin, right? Redhead? Yeah, I know who you’re talkin’ about. That’s her, ain’t it?”

 

“All right, what do you know, fella?”

 

“I’ve seen her tending bar over at the Dark Moon on Fifth Street.”

 

“How do you know that?” I demand.

 

“Ah, I go in there sometimes. When I’m just in the mood to drink. They don’t got food there. But they make a good martini. And the bartenders are hot as hell. Nice titties on that redhead, I’ll tell you that.”

 

This comment, completely unnecessary, gets my blood boiling, though I can’t put my finger on why, exactly. Lord knows I’ve said some similar shit throughout my life. But I don’t have time to think, because my instincts kick in: within half a second, I’ve slammed the guy’s face into the bar.

 

“You might want to rethink how you talk there, bub,” I growl out at him.

 

“All right, all right,” he says, cowering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

 

I let him up, allowing him to breathe again. The rest of the patrons in the bar are all staring at me.

 

“Jesus,” he says, straightening out his jean jacket, “what is she? Your sister or something?”

 

“Just keep your mouth shut, guy,” I tell him. “Unless you want some trouble.”

 

He shakes his head vigorously. “No, sir, I don’t want any trouble. I’m good.”

 

I nod, glare at the people staring at me, and walk back out the door. Now that I’ve got a lead, I don’t want to waste any time.

 

I jump on my bike and head over to Fifth Street. It’s getting late, and the bars will be closing soon. I want to make sure I get to Erin before she leaves for the night.