Shooting Dirty by Jill Sorenson

his eyes twinkling. He was handsome and nice, but Janelle had never looked twice at him. She couldn’t date any of the guys from work. They saw her tits and ass all night.
    She shoved through the curtains and took a seat at her station. There were eight lighted mirrors backstage with wooden stools and vanities. On weekends they had to share, and space got tight. Today she had the station all to herself. She arranged her makeup on the surface and began to apply it in heavy strokes.
    Within moments, she’d transformed herself from plain-old, down-and-out Janelle into sultry, glamorous, bombshell Jezebel.

Chapter Six
    Ace went to Jigsaw’s motorcycle repair shop after work.
    Jared “Jigsaw” Jones was a former friend and a longtime member of Dirty Eleven MC. When Ace left the club two years ago, he’d turned his back on a group of men he considered brothers. It was ironic that the only one he’d stayed in touch with, Wild Bill, was his enemy. Ace didn’t deal with Bill by choice, of course. He did it for Skye.
    Jigsaw glanced up from the motorcycle he was working on as Ace walked into the garage. It was after regular business hours, but Jigsaw was still there, elbow-deep in auto parts, his hands stained. Wiping them on a faded, red shop rag, he straightened. He was a lanky guy, about Ace’s age, with short dark hair and a full beard.
    Ace wasn’t sure how he’d be received here. Dirty Eleven members were allowed to retire at a respectful age, but they couldn’t just quit. Ace was an outlaw outcast, subject to beatings whenever he was spotted.
    Jigsaw’s craggy face broke into a grin, indicating that he had no hard feelings. “What the fuck is up, man? I haven’t seen you in forever.”
    Ace shook his hand. “I’ve been around.”
    “How’s Skye?”
    “Good,” he said honestly. Her speech issues weren’t improving, and he didn’t think the casino setting was the best place for her, but she was a healthy, happy little girl. Skye’s grandmother, Shawnee, took care of her.
    Shawnee was his main obstacle to getting custody. She blamed Ace for Courtney’s death, and she would never give up Skye by choice.
    “I heard you’ve got a little one,” Ace said.
    Jigsaw’s eyes clouded over. “Yeah. He just turned six months. Kendra moved out and took him with her.”
    Ace felt a pang of sympathy for his old friend. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to be separated from a child. “Sorry to hear that.”
    “Yeah, it sucks,” Jigsaw said, frowning. “What can I do for you? Looking for a ride?”
    “I wish,” Ace said, glancing around the shop. He’d kill to have a bike again. It wasn’t the expense that stopped him. He associated riding with his old life. He’d given up drugs, alcohol, his cut and his bike after Courtney died. The austere conditions he’d set for himself were a punishment of sorts. “I actually wanted to ask you about Shank.”
    “What about him?”
    “Someone told me he busted his ankle monitor here.”
    “He did.”
    “Then what?”
    Jigsaw shrugged. “He left with his old lady.”
    “Where did they go?”
    “I don’t know. He took the back roads.”
    Ace followed his vague gesture. Dillon Road was nearby. It was a long straightaway leading into Desert Hot Springs. “Did the cops follow him?”
    “No, they followed me,” Jigsaw said, smiling wryly. “I put on my helmet and went the opposite direction.”
    “How long till they stopped you?”
    “Dude, they came on quick. Like, two or three minutes.”
    “What did you think of his old lady?”
    Jigsaw seemed surprised by the question. “I don’t know. She was hot. Not your typical hang-around type, but hot.”
    Ace nodded his thanks. “Let’s forget we ever had this conversation, okay?”
    “Sure,” Jigsaw said. He knew about Ace’s hitman reputation, so he’d probably keep his mouth shut.
    “Good to see you,” Ace said on his way out.
    “Anytime, man,” Jigsaw said. “Don’t be a stranger.”
    Ace