Bikers Don't Ask Twice:: (Outlaw MC Erotica) by Roseleigh Gorge Page A
Authors: Roseleigh Gorge
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blasting him in the face with a homemade pepper spray. Lately my average was about five hundred a job. Doesn’t sound bad, does it? Well consider the fact that getting caught on any one of these jobs will cost me ten years of life when they lock me up, and you’ll start to understand why the prospect of a few hundred thousand almost got me wet.
I probed him about it in as natural a way as I could. It turned out the owner of the Jackal bar had taken one of his female customers into the back room the other night and apparently he'd opened a safe and showed her the cash to try and impress her into sleeping with him. It didn't impress her, but she'd gone out and told the story. Word got around.
After smoking a few and having a beer he left, and that's when my brain got to work. I had needed a big score like this for a long time. I'd looked everywhere I could for it and found nothing, and lately I'd had to settle with breaking into liqueur stores and stealing petty cash from the toll. It was barely paying the bills.
This though, this could be the big one. My weed smoking buddy was planning to go at the weekend and steal the cash. Well firstly, that was a stupid idea. Weekends are the busiest time for a bar, and they often stayed open later than usual. Call me weird, but I quite like a place to be empty when I rob it. Secondly, him going at the weekend gave me a couple of day’s head start to get there first. I could get in, steal the cash and have the job done before he'd even gotten himself a mask and crowbar. Maybe he would even take some of the heat for it; he had a big mouth and I guessed I wasn't the first person he'd told about his plan.
But no, I didn't want that to happen. We weren't close friends, but I liked him in a weird way. So I was going to steal the cash, give him a bit of it and then tell him to get the hell out of town.
Back in the bar I stood cautiously as I tried to figure out if an alarm was going to go off. I hadn't seen one outside but you never knew, and if there was an alarm it was bound to go off soon. After a few silent minutes I knew I was safe to get to work, and I let out a relieved breath.
The room had been tidied of empty beer bottles and glasses but it hadn't been cleaned. There was the bitter scent of cigarette ash in the air, and when I moved my feet stick to a floor that had been soaked in spilt beer. Over on the corner there was a jukebox that I just knew played nothing but county and western. People were so predictable around here and it would have been nice if at least one bar played a little rock, but hey, you had to pander to the crowd.
The only strange thing I noticed were a collection of black leather jackets pinned to the west wall. They were all arranged in a line as if they were an exhibition, and there was a giant picture on each of them of a Jackal drawn in dark red felt-tip pen. Above this each one had a different name written. I read some of them: Big Red, Sick Bastard, Ashcloud, Tomkins and Spit. They must have been a nice crowd.
It was obvious to me that the bar had taken its name from the Jackal drawn on the leather jackets. Maybe an old biker gang used to come here. There were a few gangs that rode through our town and I knew the names of most of them. But I'd never heard of the Jackals. If they were anything like the other gangs they were nothing more than a set of violent criminals who got off on bullying anyone who they saw as weaker than them. They probably had a small drugs business and maybe even dealt in firearms. Whatever, I didn't mix with that crowd so they weren't my problem.
I started to get focussed. I had my plan, I knew what I needed to do. I would jimmy the lock on the back door, find the safe and carry it to my car. I had a guy who could bust it open with nitro glycerine. He was an old chemist who owed me a favour after I'd broken into a local pharmacy and stolen a year’s supply
I probed him about it in as natural a way as I could. It turned out the owner of the Jackal bar had taken one of his female customers into the back room the other night and apparently he'd opened a safe and showed her the cash to try and impress her into sleeping with him. It didn't impress her, but she'd gone out and told the story. Word got around.
After smoking a few and having a beer he left, and that's when my brain got to work. I had needed a big score like this for a long time. I'd looked everywhere I could for it and found nothing, and lately I'd had to settle with breaking into liqueur stores and stealing petty cash from the toll. It was barely paying the bills.
This though, this could be the big one. My weed smoking buddy was planning to go at the weekend and steal the cash. Well firstly, that was a stupid idea. Weekends are the busiest time for a bar, and they often stayed open later than usual. Call me weird, but I quite like a place to be empty when I rob it. Secondly, him going at the weekend gave me a couple of day’s head start to get there first. I could get in, steal the cash and have the job done before he'd even gotten himself a mask and crowbar. Maybe he would even take some of the heat for it; he had a big mouth and I guessed I wasn't the first person he'd told about his plan.
But no, I didn't want that to happen. We weren't close friends, but I liked him in a weird way. So I was going to steal the cash, give him a bit of it and then tell him to get the hell out of town.
Back in the bar I stood cautiously as I tried to figure out if an alarm was going to go off. I hadn't seen one outside but you never knew, and if there was an alarm it was bound to go off soon. After a few silent minutes I knew I was safe to get to work, and I let out a relieved breath.
The room had been tidied of empty beer bottles and glasses but it hadn't been cleaned. There was the bitter scent of cigarette ash in the air, and when I moved my feet stick to a floor that had been soaked in spilt beer. Over on the corner there was a jukebox that I just knew played nothing but county and western. People were so predictable around here and it would have been nice if at least one bar played a little rock, but hey, you had to pander to the crowd.
The only strange thing I noticed were a collection of black leather jackets pinned to the west wall. They were all arranged in a line as if they were an exhibition, and there was a giant picture on each of them of a Jackal drawn in dark red felt-tip pen. Above this each one had a different name written. I read some of them: Big Red, Sick Bastard, Ashcloud, Tomkins and Spit. They must have been a nice crowd.
It was obvious to me that the bar had taken its name from the Jackal drawn on the leather jackets. Maybe an old biker gang used to come here. There were a few gangs that rode through our town and I knew the names of most of them. But I'd never heard of the Jackals. If they were anything like the other gangs they were nothing more than a set of violent criminals who got off on bullying anyone who they saw as weaker than them. They probably had a small drugs business and maybe even dealt in firearms. Whatever, I didn't mix with that crowd so they weren't my problem.
I started to get focussed. I had my plan, I knew what I needed to do. I would jimmy the lock on the back door, find the safe and carry it to my car. I had a guy who could bust it open with nitro glycerine. He was an old chemist who owed me a favour after I'd broken into a local pharmacy and stolen a year’s supply
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