Free Snatched by Sharon Cullars Page A

One of the bikes was Roach's 1979 Harley Sportster. Anytime Roach was around was bad news. Somehow in the next day or so he was going to have to confront Roach about the missing stash to get out of Rez's bad graces . Even if he came in from the cold, this vendetta could follow him into his other life. He needed more evidence to make charges stick or these fools could be out on the streets days after the arrests. And they would come looking for him.
    He steeled himself for whatever shit he had to deal with today. H e didn't have t o tell her to stick close . Even as he unstraddled his bike, she was quickly beside him . H er arm encircled his waist with no hesitation or shyness . Yeah, she knew what to do now. At least she wasn't an idiot, not like some of the crew's women.
    He led her to the door, knocked three times. Within a few moments, Roach stood in the doorway. The biker's expression was less than welcoming and for a few seconds he blocked their entrance.
    "Y ou wanna move?" Dele asked, his voice tight. He wasn't about to take shit from this cokehead. Even this early in the morning, Dele could see that Roach had already been snorting. How could Rez not see how far gone this mutha was? Especially enough to lift a few kilos for his own recreation .
    A few seconds passed before Roach finally shifted to allow them entrance , but only slightly. Dele caught t he look the biker cast Nailah 's way , or specifically along her form . A leer appeared.
    "Keep your eyes to yourself," Dele warned.
    "Got her tamed enough, huh?" Roach snickered.
    Before the man could move back, Dele grabbed the lapel of the biker's leather jacket.
    "Keep your bullshit to yourself," Dele said.
    Dele turned to a visibly shaken Nailah, grabbed her arm while silently imploring her not to lose her nerve. It was very important that she steel herself through this ordeal . Rez and the crew could smell weakness a mile away, fed o ff it. Not to mention the other women, especially Clare .
    Inside the "business center" as Rez liked to refer to the abandoned warehouse was nothing more than one moderately sized storage area that held a lingering smell of spices, weed and booze. The only furnishing s in the room were three tattered leather couches as well as a few metal tables with accompanying metal chairs. Near the center of the room stood a newer entertainment center holding a hi-def television and stereo unit. In addition to meetings, the crew often partied here. In the rear left corner wall were several bullet holes courtesy of o ne of the rowdier get-togethers just a few weeks ago. Two of the crew had tested some new AK47s.
    Dele led Nailah over to an empty chair near the back of the oblong space . Si d, one of the older crew , held position on the couch along the right wall. Nearing sixty and having survived more shit than a little bit, h e was more mellowed than the younger dudes . Sid sat there, eyeing them without a word. The silence made Dele too aware that he and Nailah were on display. J ust as she was about to sit directly on the chair , Dele stopped her, sat first then began pulling her down on his lap. There was a momentary resistance before she allowed him to maneuver her . Picking up his cue, she settled into her role and placed an arm around his neck. Again, he was grateful that she was quick on the uptake. It would go a long way to saving their lives in the end.
    He didn't know why he nuzzled her neck. It was just an instinctual thing, part of the pretense. Or so he wanted to believe. The nape of her neck was warm and there was a trace of perfume. He wasn't an expert on fragrances, but he'd known enough women to know the types of colognes and perfumes that they called pricey , and this one smelled like money. The scent made him temporarily wonder about her, about the life they had ripped her from. What did she do for a living? What places did she go to to unwind? More importantly, w as there a man or someone special missing her right now? Someone