convince people their little buddy was better off resting for good.
I had to find what mattered here.
"That guy," I said. "He was in your gang."
"Hell no." Twist reared up and spit right on the floor. "He ain't one of us. And we ain't no gang, neither."
"So he was in a rival...biker group?"
"Word's 'club', honey." He leaned in over me. "We'll get to that."
My heart pounded and the amped tension from my hangover threatened to flood me with panic. I couldn't break down. If I broke down I was just meat to this guy.
"So he was a rival club. He messed with you."
"Fucked us over, yeah."
"He's not a good guy."
"No, definitely not."
"Alright, so he's dead." I made out a big shrug. "Why would I report it? What do I care?
Twist stood and nodded to himself a bit. "Yeah, who gives a shit if another biker dies?"
"No, that's not-, " I started, before realizing he was just trying to throw me. "Ok, yeah, another biker dies. Who cares? I've seen a lot of much better people die, and they didn't deserve it either."
His eyebrows came close. "Oh yeah. You a doctor or something."
The guy was not dumb. I wasn't going to tell him that I was an orphan. That the only person who'd look for me was probably passed out. I sank deeper into the lie. "Yeah."
"Well, let's take a look huh?" He dug into my purse, next to the chair with his stuff. I wished I could just run up and knock him out right now. Maybe if I was 100 pounds heavier, not hung over and had my hands untied.
"Oh yeah, there we go." He held up my school ID. "Katie Phillips. That's a pretty name. They seem to have your job down wrong, honey. They think you fix dogs."
I flapped my mouth aimlessly. I was out of wit. The bright yellow bulb was killing my eyes. I could feel the panic taking over the vacuum my mind had left.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Oh, are we done with the part where you're being brave?" My purse flopped limp on the floorboards. "Damn, I like my girls feisty."
He pulled up the chair and sat down before me. I peered up as defiantly as I could, but the panic grew as the air soured with his breath.
"We're going to have a little talk. See what you saw."
"Nothing."
"You know you talk too much to suddenly act dumb."
He stroked my cheek and my nose stung with the chemicals.
"Then we figure out what's a fair exchange. We see how much you owe us."
"Money?"
He licked his cracked lips. "I accept all sorts of payment."
Rape. Rape was going to buy my silence? Or was it just going to come before a more permanent silence?
His hand cupped my face, and his eyes fell unashamed to my chest. I had always taken comfort in my ample body. If there was a button around to shrink my Cs to an A, I would have been hitting it so fast.
"Actually," he said, without lifting his eyes. "Maybe you should show me exactly what you have to offer."
"I have money in my purse."
"Oh we'll get to that." His hand cupped my breast. I closed my eyes.
Focus on the headache. Focus on the pain. Don't cry.
My heart pounded in my skull. Twist's other hand found me and I focused even harder on that pulse of life.
The door burst open.
"The fuck you doing?"
That thundering voice. I opened my eyes. The man who had killed filled the door, in the same jacket and jeans as before. His eyes went past Twist straight to his hands on my body.
"Just having a little discussion."
"Then use your mouth."
Twist stood, and the absence of that awful heat on my body had me shivering. "Fuck's your problem? You wanted me to clean up. I'm cleaning up, so leave me."
The killer moved into the room and the light seemed to dim, as if his body had been keeping it from leaving. He stood not much higher than Twist, but everything else marked him as something else. His hair was buzzed short. His body was packed but not overflowing. His face glowed and showed history, but it wasn't the leather hide that Twist and his cleanup buddy had. The man standing before me was trained for something else. He was