Earning the Cut (Riding the Line Series, Prequel) by Jayna Vixen Page A

she had slept. Well, years really. Rhee’s normally bright eyes had dulled, and she was sporting some dark circles. Thank God the roommates are gone for break. They’d think I was losing it. Plus, she didn’t want to rehash her crazy past and current life to the bubbly coeds she lived with. They could never understand. Kate and Lisa were sweet, but Rhee knew they thought she was a total drag. She always made up excuses to avoid joining them when they went out to parties or bars, and she didn’t want to explain why. She didn’t need their pity.
    Rhee dragged herself from a few hours of desperately needed, dreamless sleep and pulled on a pair of worn, low-slung jeans and a simple tee shirt. Blearily, she made herself a cup of strong coffee and nearly fell into her car. There was one last place that she could think of to hit but she had left it for last for on purpose. Tu Madre was a small establishment that an old lady from another hangout had mentioned. It was known to be the den of a particularly nasty Mexican motorcycle crew.
    Ignoring the warning tingle that shot down her spine, Rhee shoved her apprehension deep down into her guts. If Mickey was there, or if anyone knew where she was, she had to find out. She pulled up in front of the dilapidated shack that matched the address the biker chick from the last hangout had given her. Rubbing her eyes, Rhiannon stifled a yawn. A metal sign, rusted with weather and age, proclaimed, Tu Madr-. Rhee groaned inwardly. No “e.” As an aspiring copyeditor, punctuation errors really irritated her. The place looked deserted save for a few bikes parked out front.
    Perfect , Rhee thought to herself. Fewer scumbags for me to fend off.
    ***
    Dax sat at the table to the left of his president. He sighed as the latest task came to a vote. Dax raised his hand half-heartedly. Even though he had quite a bit of sway in the club, defying Hawk would be like signing his own death warrant. Part of Dax wanted out, but he simply could not justify leaving. His girlfriend was talking marriage and he couldn’t afford her or her medical school bills without the club. The cut he received as vice president of The Phantoms trumped any full time job he could think of…by a lot.
    A crackle of excitement went through the air as Hawk pounded the gavel. The Chicos had overstepped their shit for the last time. Taking the deal for the latest round of guns was the last straw. They would hit them tonight, when they were least expecting it. No doubt the stupid bastards would be partying it up, and they would all be piss drunk and high. It was the perfect time to strike, and take back what was rightfully been theirs.
    It was late when the unmarked, black van pulled up outside of Tu Madre. Dax and his crew were suited up and packing hard core. Dax adjusted his bulletproof vest and issued some orders to the rest of the crew. Then, they popped the bathroom window and sneaked in, wholly undetected.
    ***
    Rhee was sick with fear. From the moment she entered Tu Madre, she knew she had made a grave mistake. A small group of heavily tattooed men graced a table at the rear of the shack. Three whorish girls danced groggily on makeshift poles, cigarette smoke wafting up to caress their fake tits and caked makeup. A group of a dozen or so younger guys barged in and assaulted the bar, whooping and high-fiving. Shots were passed out and the distinct smell of marijuana wafted to her nostrils. Rhee turned on her heel, realizing that these were men who adhered to no rules or laws. A large man stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
    “Where do you think you’re going, puta?”
    Rhee bristled. “How dare you!” She pushed at the man, but he was like an oak. He laughed at her pathetic struggles and then, to Rhee’s horror the smelly man picked her up and threw her over his swarthy shoulder.
    “Fresh meat!” he called, as the other men glanced her way, their eyes widening with lust. A few rubbed their crotches and made lewd