Messenger of Death by Alex Markman

You
can tell me the story there.”
    Holding each
other, they began walking toward her apartment. While looking at
his face, she almost fell, stepping off the edge of the road, but
Stanley firmly caught her and lifted her into the air.
    “Sorry. I’m so
excited I didn’t watch where I was going,” she said with an
apologetic note.
    “You don’t have
to,” Stanley said laughing. “I’ll take care of you.”
    They spent the
next few hours in tireless, almost angry lovemaking. As dusk
settled, Stanley picked up his pants from the floor, fished out a
pack of cigarettes, lit one up, and took a deep drag.
    “We have to
go,” Camilla said, looking at him with fond eyes. “My roommate may
come back any minute. Shelly and I agreed to not entertain
boyfriends here.”
    “Fair enough,”
nodded Stanley. “I’ll find an apartment for you soon.”
    “I can’t afford
an apartment of my own. In a few months, after graduation, I’ll get
a job, and then I’ll make enough money to pay for it.”
    “You don’t have
to,” Stanley smiled. “I’ll foot the bill.”
    “Why don’t we .
. . ”
    “What?”
    “Why don’t we
live together? It would be cheaper.”
    “No, that
wouldn’t be as good as you think.”
    “Why not?”
    “I can’t
explain it right now. You’ll understand later.” He noticed her
disappointment. “I like you so much, Camilla. Truly. I’ll do
anything for you. You gave a new meaning to my life. Maybe I’ll
leave my club and do something else for a living. Trust me.”
    Camilla kissed
him and smiled.
    “By the way,
next Thursday we’re having a big party at our clubhouse. Would you
like to go with me?”
    “I’d love to!”
She accepted the invitation quickly. “I’ve never been in a biker’s
club.”
    “Good. Now,
let’s go to my house. I can’t think of spending the night without
you.”
    “Me, neither!”
Camilla pulled his hair in passion. “Hold your breath, rascal. It’s
not gonna be an easy night for you!”
    They went out
hand-in-hand, into the last glimmer of the day. The sun, a large
red disk dropping behind a jagged line of tall buildings, shone in
a futile attempt to fend off the encroaching dusk. Cars with lights
on passed them by.
    “Here’s my
car.” He matter-of-factly pointed to a small Mercedes, parked near
a meter by the roadside.
    “Ni-i-i-ice,”
Camilla sang, but Stanley stopped suddenly, holding her beside
him.
    “Please, wait
here a minute.”
    “Why?”
    “Please.” He
looked around, as if trying to detect something suspicious, and
then went up to the car and pressed the unlock button on the remote
control. The car greeted him with flashing lights. He got in,
turned the engine on, and lowered the window on the passenger
side.
    “Come on in,”
he invited, leaning back.
    “What’s this
all about?” Camilla asked, opening the door and climbing into the
passenger seat.
    “Habit. Nothing
else,” Stanley explained. His car moved forward, like a powerful,
obedient horse.
    “Careful,”
Camilla laughed, as she was thrown against him during a sharp turn.
She locked her arms around his neck.
    “Tell me more
about yourself, tough guy.” She kissed him. “I don’t know much
about you. Tell me about your parents.”
    “Working-class
people. They live in Halifax. As far as I remember, they’ve always
been poor. I hated poverty. I finished high school, but that’s all
my education. I began making money when I was a student. Quite a
bit, I should say.”
    “All in drugs?”
Camilla guessed.
    “Not all. As I
said before, I have a muffler shop. It makes good money. I have
some other businesses, too.”
    “Why do you
need the Iron Ghosts club then?”
    “It’s
interrelated—hard to explain. You’ll understand later. Let’s talk
about something else. Tonight is just for us.”

    IV
     
    Camilla was
trembling with curiosity to see the biker’s club. She had read
plenty of newspaper articles lately about these almighty gangs,
fearing no one,