One Way Out (Red Crows MC Book 1) Read online

  Red Crows MC #1

  One Way Out

  Iris Sweetwater

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by Raven Heidrich.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Hydra Productions

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to everyone who has pushed me to test my limits and challenge myself in this industry. I hope you keep doing that, because it makes me accomplish great things. And thank you to my family as always for loving me and supporting me in what I do even when it gets tough.

  Warning

  Proceed with caution. This book contains violent and sexual content that may be a trigger for those who have experienced trauma or those with mental illness. This title is not meant to be read by those under the age of 18.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Paisley

  Chapter Two

  Jade

  Chapter Three

  Paisley

  Chapter Four

  Jade

  Chapter Five

  Paisley

  Chapter Six

  Jade

  Chapter Seven

  Paisley

  Chapter Eight

  Jade

  Chapter Nine

  Jade

  Chapter Ten

  Paisley

  Chapter Eleven

  Paisley

  Chapter Twelve

  Jade

  Chapter Thirteen

  Paisley

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paisley

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paisley

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jade

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paisley

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jade

  Chapter One

  Paisley

  I have to cringe a little as I step off the bus only a couple of yards from the inconspicuous sign, worn and old, declaring that I have arrived in the town of Eagleville, Texas. Population 437...438 now. I had been in these one-horse towns before. In fact, it seemed to be where I had operated most of the time. I was in the business of being...well...I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone. It's already gotten me into trouble once. And trouble is a damn understatement. But you would never know I was trouble, and that's why I am being looked at like a piece of meat as I walk my way to where my GPS tells me I will find the place where I am supposed to be having a meeting, one that will establish me in this town as someone that can fit in and be trusted. Even if it is a lie.

  My hair is a bottle white blonde, that is the color someone told me I had once; an ex I'd rather not think about even if he still haunts my memories all the time and likely always will, but it's entirely natural. My eyes are a soft blue hue. I look nice, sweet, innocent; oh how appearances can lie. Even I have been fooled by them.

  I keep my stride and look straight forward as I approach the very well-preserved downtown of this tiny town; probably its pride and joy. I can see my destination on the right; an unassuming box office and black door that leads into a historical theatre from the silent movie era that was supposed to be a jewel back in the day. It was apparently mismanaged, though still has potential since it is the only entertainment for miles around other than the local watering holes, and I have a feeling those are not so safe for the regular folk.

  I go up the door and walk in, kind of glad to be off the street for now. I will be glad when this is done and I can move onto getting a vehicle and a place to stay that is hopefully at least a little nice. I may want to immerse myself, but not enough to want to live in the trailer park.

  An older man in a worn suit turns around to greet me with a warm and wrinkly smile. His hand reaches out to shake mine with a slight tremble. "You must be Mrs. Drake," he says to me, and I smile and nod. Today I am.

  "Just Miss now," I say, a fake moment of reflection and sadness coming over me. Today, for the next several months, I am a young widow of a businessman who taught me everything he knows.

  "Oh, I am so sorry, Miss Drake, would you like to see the facility before we work out the manner of payment."

  I shake my head, a dimple appearing on the left side of my mouth as I reach in my purse to pull out the money order I got in preparation for this. "I don’t want to waste any time on this, sir. I appreciate all you have done. The pictures are good enough for me. This was my late husband’s dream to fix up and run an old theatre, so I am pretty determined to do this. I hope this is enough to give you the nice retirement you deserve," I tell him, my accent not having to be faked. I actually grew up in northern Oklahoma, so my real voice is good for fitting in here.

  He looks at the check and can’t hide his excitement. A tear runs down his cheek, and I allow him to hug me. "I am sorry for being so forward, Miss Drake, but this is more than enough. I have been wanting to retire closer to my grandchildren and children a few hours away. I think I can finally do that. God bless." He hands me the keys, the deed, everything I need to make this place mine, and goes off as if he has won the lottery. I am glad he won’t be around for what I am up to, the real reason I am here. He seems like a sweet, old man who deserves some peace and quiet at his age. He won’t get that here for much longer.

  I give myself a quick tour before locking up, making notes in my mind of what will need to be cleaned, gutted, or repaired before the place can reopen; what can be done while it is open so I can start turning some kind of profit. I do have to live off something. And what better way to connect to the community in the way that I want than to run a place of entertainment anyway?

  I don’t want to waste any time.

  So, I walk back out the door in search of something else; a place I can grab a beat-up old car, just something safe for A to B. Small town or not, knowing who and what is here, I don’t want to be caught out walking alone after closing time.

  I am not sure where I am going. I have not seen any kind of shop yet, but there must be one, even if it's just a cycle shop. I look around me, hoping to see someone that looks like they might know something and tell me without being too curious or suspicious about the new woman, or already put a target on my back. That’s when I spot one; a man, an old one, with fading tattoos and grandchildren by his side. He might have been wrapped up in this town's secrets once, but he would be long over it.

  "Sir," I say kindly, a smile on my face as I look down at the children running circles around him, "can you tell me if there is a junk yard or anywhere here I might get a cash vehicle, just to get from work to home?"

  He looks me over with scrutiny, and I know why. He sis sizing me up, wondering if he should send me wherever he is sending me. When engines are involved in these towns, so are criminals. It is just something I have learned that is the way of things.

  "If you go to the edge of town, almost to the sign leading you towards Andersonville and the open farmlands beyond, there is a small shop. They fix some old cars up and sell them sometimes. There's a gas station attached and a repair shop. Don't let them give you a bad deal, though, a nice woman like you."

  I nod in thanks. This is what I mean by appearances. I have every intention on letting THAT kind think I am something I am not until it is too late.

  It takes me about 20 minutes
to walk to the other edge of town. The place is a straight shot pretty much, few main streets to worry about. There are more houses this way, a simple layout to learn.

  The dump that is now in front of me is a far cry from anywhere where I can get a vehicle I trust. All I can hope for is that there is at least one person, one mechanic in there with a love enough for cars that there is a machine that won't break down on me in five minutes. This place is the worst damn front I have ever seen.

  Surely, with the background and reputation that precedes these men, they can do better than this.

  I walk in, acting like I am both uncomfortable but sure what I want. I walk up to the man at the desk, not surprised to see the cocky smirk on his face to see a new, young, vulnerable woman in town. "How can I help you, little lady?" he asks, and I try really hard not to roll my eyes.

  "I was wondering if you had a good car; one that runs good. Don't give two shits about the looks, but I want it to get me around and last me, for a reasonable price."

  I hear a chuckle at the same time as I hear the chime of the door. I turn my head to see a man that does not look like someone I would expect to even be in this town, let alone in this place. Yet, he is covered in oil and grease. He works here.

  His skin is darker, tan, but his dark hair and almond shaped eyes, his smaller build, tells me he is of some Asian descent; likely the only one in this town. Hell, probably the only one in the next ten small town in this part of the state. How he gets by I don’t know, but I am just as distracted by his hard muscles and his artistic tattoos as I am by the fact that he is different.

  I tell my heartbeat to calm down as he begins to speak. On the one hand, he could be my way in, but if he is to be, I can’t react, not for real. I can’t get involved when it comes to my work, ever again. When they say mixing work with pleasure is messy, they aren't kidding.

  "A woman that drives a hard bargain. I like it." I am not sure if he means it, or is mocking me. I purse my lips as I try to figure it out. "I've got this one," he says, looking to the man behind the counter. "I am Jade," he says holding out his hand to me as I hear the man who would have served me huff loudly like a disgruntled child.

  I glance at it, seeing it's a little dirty, but then take it anyway. "Paisley," I say, trying out the next fake name on my tongue. I have had a million over the years. This one takes the damn cake, though. Sounds like I am some little girl skipping in the sunshine. But it's not like I have an attachment to my real name. It has been so long that sometimes, I even forget that I have it. "So, do you have what I am looking for?"

  He chuckles again and shakes his head as if he can't believe that I won't fall for any tricks.

  "Yes, right this way."

  Chapter Two

  Jade

  I can hear the click of her shoes on the floor behind me, so I know she is following me, but I don't dare look back. I have to keep my game face on. I know for a fact this woman has picked the wrong town to be in, whether it's temporary or not. Part of me just wants to pull her over to the side and tell her to take one of these cars and keep driving several miles until she finds somewhere better, one of those cozy small towns you actually read about in the books and magazines. This is not one of those towns. This is one of those towns where people hope to get out of one day and they never do. With the same people that are born here are buried here, and their reputations linger for the rest of their families’ lives. Most of them bad.

  Considering I have a bad reputation myself, I know all about this. I may look like I just stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad that is attempting to be culturally diverse, but I have been trained to be a scam artist, a criminal, and even a killer. Though, those times are rare. Lucky that I am lower down the wrung, and that is not often my job. I don't know how many times I could handle looking somebody in the eyes as I watched the lights go out in them.

  I take her into our showroom of sorts. It's nothing much, just a concrete slab extension of the mechanic shop. There are four of us that come in here at different times and work on cars that we have acquired in our possession in some way, usually it is illegally. Though, sometimes we get them at auction, and that's a good thing.

  I try not to cringe as we walked by Apollo, a fellow MC member of mine, as he's trying to sell a car to an elderly couple which I know will go out and then within a week, if not sooner. This is what we are supposed to do. We are supposed to make money off of complete junk. We are nothing but a scam. And I hate it.

  This woman, this petite, pretty, blonde woman, is lucky that she came in today, of all days. Because I am here, and I take pride in my work. It just so happens I have a vehicle that will work for her. I just finished fixing it up two days ago. And for its age, it’s in great shape.

  Don't ask me why I feel so protective of this one. Despite my qualms, I still always do what I'm told to do. For the most part, I play along as if I am the same as the rest of them. And at one point, I was. But that was because I was young, blind, and desperate.

  Red Crows MC picked me up when I was at my lowest. I will never stop being grateful for that. Don't think for a second that I had any other choice in the matter. There was no way I was staying where I was and surviving. And here, I thrived. But that doesn't mean that I enjoy it, especially now that I understand exactly what's going on here.

  “Got this one in from an auction a while back,” I tell her, pointing to the car I had my hands on for the past two months. “Fixed it up myself. It isn’t the prettiest car we’ve ever had, but I made sure the paint was fresh and that all the parts were new and working; breaks, engine, transmission, the whole works. Though, I hope you can drive stick,” I tell her, looking her up and down. She is hard to read. Her clothes don’t give away whether she is a city or country girl, one way or the other. She is beautiful, but she seems to be smart enough to walk into a place like this knowing what she wants. She doesn’t look too damn tough, but there has to be an edge somewhere to even stop in a town like this.

  “I can drive one just fine. My father made sure I knew early on. Price?” she asks, getting right to the point. She is not playing around or taking any shit. Now I am real glad I am the one who has her because some of the other men would not be happy with such a challenge. They would hound her and harass her every move for as long as she stayed here, and she would honestly be lucky to make it out of town unscathed. Some of these men may seem like just some small town greasers, but they are so much more dangerous than that under the surface. Just like me, they were trained to be.

  “Paper or plastic?” I ask her, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow at her. Surprisingly, Prez did spring for one of the credit card readers, but it costs a shit ton to swipe. So, we always charge more if they want to use it. That’s at least something I can get behind. These cars are not that much, so we should take cash wherever we can. It’s better for us and the customer. Plus, untraceable. But that’s entirely beside the point. I don’t like to think about those things if I don’t have to. Sometimes, it’s easy to pretend for just a moment that what I am doing is legit.

  Not that I would ever be able to make it out alive, but if I did, I think this is what I would; open a shop of my own. A real one.

  “I have some cash on me, and if it’s not enough, I can run to the nearest bank and get some more,” she tells me. I don’t know if she’s brave or stupid for admitting in here that she has a bunch of paper on her.

  Jesus, I hope she doesn’t walk around with it at night or keep it in the freezer in a trailer or something. That is a one-way ticket to the cemetery here.

  “Five thousand,” I tell her. I am so low balling compared to what someone else would charge, but I know it’s best to get her what she needs and get her out before she becomes prey, or before my lack of scamming becomes obvious.

  “Deal,” she says, pulling out a wad of cash and passing it to me, I slip it straight into my pocket, glad that it is deep as shit. Suddenly, I am damn curious as to why she has a stack of five thousand
dollars on her. I think there might be a lot fucking more to this chick than meets the eye.

  “Alright, why don’t you tell me where you’ll be and take off for now. I’ll gas and detail it and bring it to you,” I tell her.

  She pulls out a small piece of paper and a pen from her bag and writes something down, handing it to me. “Thanks, but can you call me when it’s ready? I am going to be running some errands, and I want to make sure I am actually there when you bring it.” I nod and walk off.

  The gas station is right out back; just four pumps that charge an arm and a leg for mostly water. Another part of the shit service we give to this town and those passing through. This part is more for those on road trips. We are one of the only stations for miles on the main road.

  I walk out of sight of Paisley and start getting slapped on the back and little chuckles from the other men. They all think I am scamming her. Good, because I need to keep up the appearance even as my fist is aching to knock somebody to the fucking pavement. They could at least pick and choose those who might deserve to be scammed or like single men or something, but women, the elderly? I just can’t get behind that, and I sometimes think it makes me defective. It’s hard not to think this way with all these monsters around me. I am supposed to be one of them.

  It would be so much easier if I was one.

  Chapter Three

  Paisley

  My phone rings, and it is the first time I see the time. I have gotten carried away with trying to clean up the theater and reimagine what it could look like. It’s dark outside now, I can see that as I walk out of one of the screening rooms and glance out the glass front. I shouldn’t be out this late, especially when I still have that check on me, and I have yet to meet up with the nice woman who supposedly has half a duplex, fully furnished, to rent out to me.