Biker’s Collar: Property of Scrap (Rebel Barbarians MC #6)

Chapter 5 – Vickie

Five

Vickie

Las Vegas – 5 Years Ago

T his is painful to watch. Owen leans over the table, gambling not because he thinks he can win, but because he has to. It didn’t take me long working here to have my finger on the pulse of the addicts. They move different from the other men. They’re crazier. I’m hooked on his losing game, but I know I should move on. I should probably even choose another mark. What’s the chance this man will have enough money for me left to rob by the end of the night?

His large lumberjack looking brother asks one of the girls to get his brother another drink. Owen doesn’t seem to care. He just gazes at the cards in front of him. There’s definitely a point where watching this game could get sad. After the first card, two of the players fold. Owen remains tenaciously hooked on the game. His brother gives him a disapproving look and increases the bet for the next round.

His brother has nothing left. If he folds or loses the round, he’ll go into debt. Owen’s brother doesn’t appear sympathetic in the slightest. He leans back with a worryingly smug expression on his face. The dealer flips another card. Owen’s brother leans forward, his left foot tapping anxiously. He has good cards and they’re so damn good he doesn’t care who knows it.

When they all show their hands, I pretend to be invested in the game at another table, but it’s hard to miss Ethan’s whoops of pleasure and enthusiastic scraping of poker chips off the table.

“I’m fucked.”

“Calm down,” he says. “Just write a check. Are you in for the next round?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Owen says to his brother.

“I’ll give you one of my chips so you have enough to buy in. Just win the next round.”

There’s no acknowledgment that this mindset is what got him into trouble here in the first damn place. I pause, waiting for Owen to see some sense considering he’s already in the hole. The game in front of me is way too boring – down to two bikers that look like Willie Nelson who are members of the same club and quietly contemplating the hand while stoned out of their minds. Owen’s predicament is a little more compelling. My chest tightens as I wait for him to do the right thing. I don’t know why I expect him to.

“Fine,” he says. “Just one more round.”

“Win this time,” his brother warns sternly.

I shouldn’t mess with this guy. While I want to get out of here tonight, there are more tables and more potential marks. This man is desperately addicted to gambling to the point where a loss that clearly brings him to the brink of suicide doesn’t even stop him from entering another game. He’s going to lose the next round and if he doesn’t lose that round, he’ll lose another one after that. There’s no point in robbing a man who doesn’t have anything to steal. The only thing he has going for him is that he’s a biker, but there are a lot of bikers in seedy Vegas clubs.

I give the boring game my full attention and for the next forty-five minutes, I put my mark out of my mind as much as possible. Just when I’m about to give up on finding anyone else tonight, Owen’s brother rises from the poker game. His eyes meet mine across the room and I almost freeze from instinctive terror. The gambling addict brother might be sweet but his brother reminds me more of a gross werewolf.

I turn around and pretend to rearrange some glasses on a tray, but I feel that man’s giant paw on my shoulder and have some reassurance that I didn’t imagine his attention.

“Hey, are you busy after the club?”

“Excuse me?”

“My brother is depressed and I noticed he couldn’t stop looking at you when he should have been focused on the fucking game. How much for a night with him?”

“I’m not a prostitute.”

“I doubt he’ll be able to get it up,” his brother says. “Just… spend some time with him. Make him feel good. You were the only thing in this room that could make him smile tonight.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t do that.”

“Not even for ten grand?”

He holds up a high roller poker chip. It really is ten thousand dollars. I don’t know if I should feel disgusted by the disrespect or disgusted by how tempting it is just to reach out and snatch it. I’m that desperate. That much money could change my life right now. It could fund my escape and make sure that I never end up in Hakeem’s clutches again.

“I’m not a hooker.”

“Then don’t be a hooker. Be a comforter. Listen, you’re not my type, but my brother likes a thick woman with big legs and a fat ass. So take the ten grand… we’re rolling out of town tonight. There won’t be another chance.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t want to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Listen,” he says, clearly frustrated with my resistance as if screwing some dirty ass biker was every woman’s life goal. “What do you want? Your boss over there doesn’t seem to mind me talking to you. Do you need me to talk to him?”

“I don’t need you to talk to anyone.”

“If you say yes,” he says, lowering his voice. “You’ll go to my brother’s place. We live miles away from the club. I can promise your man we’ll bring you back.”

There’s a strange implication in what he’s saying, like he doesn’t care whether I go back or not. But men in this world don’t side with women. They side with each other. I let his insinuation slide without open acknowledgment.

“I’ll take your money,” I tell him. “But I don’t shit on chests or piss in mouths or any of that freaky shit.”

The brother chuckles. “Too bad. You would make a lot more money doing that.”

He hands me the poker chip and then grabs my head from the back, pulling me close to kiss me on the neck. I am frozen. This white man could unintentionally feel up the pills I have in my hair with his controlling palm, so my heart races like a Corvette down a straight stretch of highway. The neck kiss only makes the tense situation worse.

But he pulls away from me and my secret pills remain a secret. He beams at me, the smile making his face almost look handsome.

“You’re a smart girl.”

I glance down at the patch. It says “Bear”. He looks like a damn bear, but that can’t be his real name.

“It’s an easy ten grand. Don’t flatter yourself, Bear.”

He grunts. “It’s Ethan. Look, I’ll play another game for your troubles. Once we’re done… I’ll tell your boss what I paid for.”

“Tell him you paid me 1/10th of what you did,” I tell the big black-haired bear of a man. “Trust me.”

He winks and walks away. My heart pounds as I watch him go. I can’t bring myself to glance over at his brother – the man I’m going home with tonight. This is going to be my first night doing something like this for money. I tell myself that I’m only doing it to escape, but I can’t help but feel like I’m a terrible person.

I’m definitely going to hell. I promised to walk away from this tortured, damaged man. I promised that I would let go of the idea of him as my “mark” and find another way out. But what type of woman looks at $10,000 of easy money and doesn’t see it as a sign from the universe. I can cash in the poker chip right now…

And if a white man high roller makes an offer for me to Hakeem… He’ll be dumb enough to think these white boys can control me enough to bring me back. I almost can’t believe that my freedom is so close.

Close enough to taste.

I cash in my poker chip in the back room, getting one of Hakeem’s lackeys to give me the money. He makes a joke about me “shitting on a white boy’s chest”, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. I’m trying to get out of here and I don’t care what any of the people in this club think of me.

I don’t belong here… This was all just a horrible mistake and after tonight – I’ll be free forever.