Revved to the Maxx

by Melanie Moreland

  “I never got it.”

  I interrupted him. “Just put the charge through—” I glanced at his name tag “—Arnie, and give her the new key. We’ll unload the locker and be out of here.” I tapped on the counter. “Now.”

  He slid a key toward Charly. I kissed her forehead. “Go open the locker. I’ll bring the cart. Don’t lift anything.”

  She left, and I glared at the manager. “You could be a little more polite.”

  “Listen, you know how often I get stiffed? She’s lucky I gave her a couple extra weeks.” Arnie grumbled, fumbling with the credit card machine. “Damn lines are down. I gotta try again.”

  It took over ten minutes, and I finally went around the counter to help him. He had pulled the cable loose with all his fussing. He bitched about dealing with problem customers and payments all day. He finally put the payment through, and I went to the truck to get the handcart. I had just pulled it off the truck when Charly came tearing out of the building, her hair streaming behind her and her face pale. I dropped the cart at the look of utter panic on her face.

  “What?” I grabbed her arms. “Red, what happened?” If that bastard had touched her, I was going to kill him.

  “Maxx,” she gasped. “It’s-it’s here.”

  “What’s here, Charly?”

  “Your bike.”

  I frowned in confusion. “My bike?”

  “Your Indian motorcycle. I think I just saw it.”

  I strode down the hall, my heart beating a hundred miles an hour, anger burning in my gut. Charly explained that as she went toward her locker, there was a couple arguing loudly in the aisle next to hers. She heard them talking about moving the contents of the locker somewhere else since they were out of money and couldn’t pay the rent anymore.

  “It’s time to sell it,” the woman hissed. “It’s worth a ton of cash.”

  “It’s too soon.”

  “No, we’ll sell it out of province. Indian motorcycles are huge in the States.”

  At the mention of an Indian, Charly had headed toward the aisle and strolled down it as if looking for her locker. She glanced toward the open door and saw my bike, recognizing the color and custom-made saddlebags and seat, then kept walking so as not to cause suspicion. She described the couple, leaving me no doubt it was Shannon and Billy.

  Outside Unit 2221, I looked at Charly, who nodded in assurance. The door was partially closed, and I could hear them arguing about how to get the bike out and where to store it. At the sound of their voices, I knew Red was right. It was them. I shoved open the door and stepped inside.

  “Back in my garage is the best place,” I snarled.

  Two shocked sets of eyes looked at me. Two mouths gaped open.

  Then all hell broke loose. Shannon started shrieking it was all Billy’s idea and she was just biding her time until she could get the bike back to me. Billy protested loudly it was Shannon who came up with the idea. Shannon shoved Billy, who stumbled backward, and then she lunged at me, trying to get past. I gripped her arms, shaking my head.

  “I don’t think so, bitch.”

  Charly spoke. “I’ll call the police now, Maxx?”

  “Yeah, baby, do that.”

  Shannon’s eyes grew round. “Baby? You’re cheating on me?”

  I barked out a laugh. “You fucked my best friend, robbed me, and took off with my bike, and you thought, what? I’d forgive and be waiting for you after all this time? After everything you did? Holy moly, are you barking mad?”

  Billy scrambled off the floor. “What the hell, Shannon?”

  “What’s going on here?” Arnie appeared, and Shannon’s expression changed.

  “Oh thank goodness,” she exclaimed, laying her hand on her chest. “This man is trying to rob us.”

  I snorted. “You have that the wrong way around. You robbed me. This—” I indicated the bike, dusty from sitting in a locker “—is my Indian motorcycle. These two stole it from me over a year ago.”

  “I have all the paperwork to verify it at the office,” Charly spoke up. “I’ll send it to the police.”

  Arnie cleared his throat. “I don’t want any trouble here. I have rules, and I’ll enforce them.”

  I wanted to snort. Enforce them? With what? The grease from his comb-over? Even Red could take him with one hand tied behind her back. He barely came up to her shoulder.

  “The police will sort it out,” Charly said, lifting her phone to her ear, her ring catching the light.

  Shannon shrieked again. “You’re engaged?”

  I winked at Charly, loving how she lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. She almost looked scary.

  “That’s right. We are. You have something to say about it?”

  Shannon peered at the ring, a smug grimace curling her lips.

  “Oh god, you gave her your mother’s ring? Still a mama’s boy, Maxx, I see,” she said snidely. “Too cheap to spring for a new one.”

  Before I could say anything, Charly stepped in front of her, snarling and defiant.

  “Listen, you heartless shrew. You know nothing about this man. What you scoff at and make fun of is his beautiful soul. Something which you don’t have. And if you think your words will bother us, you’re wrong. You’re a thief, a liar, and a horrible person. So, your opinion means nothing to us. By giving me his mother’s ring, he shows how much he loves me. He trusts me with something important to him.” She paused. “Which is why you never got your greedy hands on it.”

  Shannon blinked at her, and Charly stepped back and looked her up and down. “Good luck in prison though. I hear hair dye isn’t allowed, so your roots are gonna grow out. I’m sure you’ll still be, ah, popular with the prison population, though.”

  Holding back my laughter, I wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed her head. “Call the police, Charly.”

  Billy held up his hands. “No, Maxx, please, man. Don’t do that.”

  “Why the hell not? You stole from me.” I looked around the locker. “Where’s the Ducati?”

  “Um, we sold it for parts.”

  My grip on Charly tightened, and she patted my arm. I had liked that bike, but I was grateful if they stripped one, it was the Ducati, not the Indian.

  “But look, man, your tools are back there, and your dad’s bike is safe. Take it. Take it all and let us go.”

  Shannon cursed at him, and he shook his head. “For once, Shannon, shut the hell up. I’m tired of listening to you. Ever since we started, my life has been a living hell.”

  She gaped at him. I doubted he had ever spoken to her that way. Billy didn’t have much of a backbone. For a while, I had lost mine as well, and she took advantage of that. In retrospect, losing the bike had been a blessing since she went with it.

  I studied Billy. He was gaunt and drawn-looking. Unhappy. Shannon looked the same as I remembered. But I noticed for the first time how hard she looked. Her eyes were cold and vacant. Her expression dissatisfied. Had she always looked that way, or had I gotten used to the sweetness of Charly’s face?

  Whichever it was, they deserved each other, and I was glad Shannon was gone. I had to admit, though, I felt more pity for Billy than her. He had to put up with her.

  “You know, he’s right,” drawled Arnie. I had forgotten he was even there. “If you involve the cops, they’ll seize the bike and everything for evidence. God knows when you’ll get it back.”

  Billy nodded furiously. “Take it. Let us go. We’ll never bother you again. You’ll never see us again.”

  “As if I could trust anything you say. You’ll double-cross me and try to steal it again.”

  He shook his head. “No, I won’t. I’m done. With all of this. I am sick and tired of it all.” He looked at Shannon. “Especially you.”

  That caused a string of curses and accusations from Shannon. Charly peeked up at me, her eyes round as Shannon threw a major temper tantrum, including stomping her feet and flinging her arms around.

  What the hell had I ever seen in
her?

  Finally, I reached my limit, and I whistled. Loudly. The piercing noise stopped Shannon mid-tirade.

  “Enough,” I commanded. “Just do what Billy said and shut the hell up, Shannon. Jesus, you chap my ass.”

  She opened her mouth, and I held up my hand. “One more word. One. And I’m calling the cops.” She closed her mouth, glaring daggers at me instead.

  “You have three minutes to get out of my sight before I change my mind. And here’s a word of advice. Your pictures are up all over Lomand and Littleburn, and there is a warrant out for your arrest. Do not try to come back. You do, and I will have you arrested. Regardless of getting the bike back, you still stole the Ducati and a whole pile of cash, so there’s more than enough to convict you.”

  Neither said a word. I focused on Billy. “I trusted you. You were my friend. You made the choice of her over me. I never want to see you again. Ever. Do you understand?”

  “I get it. You won’t.”

  “Then get out of here.”

  He moved past us, Shannon starting to follow. He looked over his shoulder. “I’m done with you too. Don’t follow me.”

  He walked out, moving fast, and after a moment, she followed, arguing and pleading. The sounds of their voices faded away, and I sighed. Arnie hurried behind them, muttering about them stealing something from the office.

  Charly looked up at me. “Your motorcycle,” she whispered. “You got your motorcycle back.”

  I smiled and drew my fingers down her cheek. “Because of you, I did.”

  “I guess forgetting to make the payment was a blessing.”

  “You’re the blessing, Red.”

  She looped her arms around my waist. “I liked you all tough and gruff. Telling her off.”

  “That felt good,” I admitted. “I have to say, I feel sorry for Billy. He looks like shit.”

  She grinned. “I think Shannon is going to have to find her next victim.” She paused. “I never knew you could whistle like that.”

  I smirked and whistled under my breath. “You were damn sexy defending me to her, Red. All tough and gruff,” I repeated her words and bent down to kiss her. “Sexy as hell.”

  “We’re a good team.”

  “We are.”

  She beamed up at me. “Let’s load up your bike and my boxes and go home.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Two years later

  I stood back and admired the two bikes in front of me. “Amazing job, Stefano,” I praised. “This detail is stunning.”

  He grinned. “It was fun. What a great couple they are—and easy to work with.”

  I had to agree. In their late fifties, Teddy and Rose were avid riders. They had come to us with their matching Harleys, wanting them detailed and decked out. We sat with them, listening to what they wanted, and I was certain we had surpassed expectations.

  Teddy was simple. He wanted black on black, lots of chrome and some silver airbrushing. His one request—a small rose somewhere he could see it on his bike for his wife.

  Rose was harder to pin down. She loved feminine things, and her favorite color was purple. But she didn’t want a simple, one-color bike. We ended up with a unique paint effect that started silver at the front, gradually darkening to gray and lavender, finishing with a rich vibrant purple at the back. Stefano had airbrushed an effect on the bike that looked like lace edging and added delicate lavender roses in places to highlight the beautiful finish. In the same place he added the rose for Teddy, he put a small teddy bear for Rose. We added other touches to the bike, the purple-edged seat and matching leather bags that would give her lots of storage. His bike had the same additions since they loved touring on the weekends.

  Both bikes were works of art and would bring the garage more acclaim.

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “You get to unveil them. You deserve the recognition.”

  He grinned. “Thanks, Maxx.”

  I strode through the restoration area—a new addition to the garage last year. Business was booming. I had to expand the garage to four bays, plus add the area for our restorations. Stefano worked only in the restoration area now, and we had expanded to cars as well as motorcycles. Three of us were working there full time, and we brought in a couple of extra people as needed. My eye caught the gleam of red paint, and as usual, I stopped and cast my eyes over the Indian motorcycle displayed in the corner. It was complete with the emblem finally added and another touch I never expected.

  Charly was in the garage sorting through the boxes we’d brought from the storage locker. I insisted she unpack them and use her dad’s things as further embellishments in the garage—he had an amazing collection of tools and car memorabilia. The pieces would be a great addition to the walls. I wanted her to add the personal items to the house so it would feel like her home—not just mine.

  I heard my name being shouted. I looked up from the bike that I was inspecting carefully and stood as Charly came barreling out of the barn, holding something aloft.

  “I found it! I found it! It was there, Maxx!”

  I had no idea what she was talking about until she placed the Indian figurehead in my hand. I was struck silent as I studied it. They were rare, especially in this condition.

  “I knew my dad had one a long time ago. I thought it was gone, but it was in the boxes! You can add it to the bike!” she exclaimed, dancing around in her excitement.

  I had no response other than to lift her off her feet and kiss her. She was constantly full of unexpected surprises. This was a particularly good one.

  Now, it graced the front of the bike, shining and epic. I rarely rode the bike anymore, instead using it as a display and taking it on occasion when I appeared at events to talk about restorations. It was a crowd-pleaser, but I only did it rarely. The bike had too much sentimental value to risk it being damaged or stolen.

  Brett ran the garage, and our reputation was top-notch. I had made Stefano and Brett both part owners, and they were as diligent as I was about our status. Brett was a born leader, and the staff respected him. The garage was now renamed Reynolds & Co. Restorations and Repairs.

  In the garage, the newly expanded area was busy. I raised my hand as I went through, pleased with what I saw. All bays full, all hands on deck, and a full schedule for the day. I passed Chase Donner, who greeted me with a grin. “Hey, Maxx.”

  I tilted my chin. “How’s it going?”

  “Great. On my way for another pickup.”

  “Safe trip.”

  He smiled and picked up the keys to the truck, walking out of the garage, whistling. I could recall the day he had shown up at the garage. I was busy working on a bike when Brett interrupted me.

  “You might want to go out front.”

  “Problem?”

  “Chase Donner is talking to Charly.”

  I was outside in five seconds flat. I headed toward Charly, already growling. What the hell was he doing here? And why was she even speaking to him?

  Chase saw me and backed up, holding up his hands. His brother was in jail, their father apparently finally washing his hands of his sons. Chase was given a light sentence and had come home a few weeks ago.

  “I’m not here to make trouble.”

  “Why are you here, then?” I snarled.

  Charly put a hand on my arm. “Chase came to apologize to me, Maxx.”

  That gave me pause.

  “I see.”

  Chase stepped forward. “I’m sorry for everything. All the trouble Wes caused, the fact that I was driving that day when Charly got hurt. I want to do something to make up for it.”

  I grunted. “You said your piece. You can leave now.”

  Charly frowned at me. “No, he wants to do something, Maxx. He’s trying to find his feet.” She gazed at him with a sad smile. “No one will give him a chance.”

  “Hardly surprising,” I snorted.

  He didn’t react. “I deserve that. But I’ve had some counseling, and I know what I did was wrong
. I’m trying to move forward.” His hands gripped the baseball cap he was holding, his fingers moving restlessly. “I wanted to offer my services if there was anything I could do to help you. To make up for what I did.”

  “First off,” I snapped, “you can’t make up for it. Second, if you think I would let you anywhere near this place or my wife, you—”

  “Maxx!” Charly snapped, interrupting me.

  I stared at her, and she pulled me to the side. “He needs a chance. He’s trying to make a fresh start.”

  I gaped at her. “You expect me to help him?”

  She crossed her arms, glaring. “You gave me a chance once.”

  “Totally different.”

  She tilted her head, tapping her foot. “If I can forgive him, then you should too. After all, he is the one who put his own brother behind bars because of how terrible he felt. That says a lot about his character.”

  I knew that stance. The tapping of her foot and the inflection of her voice. She wasn’t going to back down on this. “What do you want, Red?”

  “We’re getting busier all the time. We need someone to shuttle customers when they drop off their cars. Pick up parts. Wash cars. Run errands for me.”

  “You expect me to give him keys to a company truck?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Yes. It’s called trust. He needs a place to live and something to do. He needs help. The room in the garage is vacant. He has a parole officer willing to vouch for him,” she insisted.

  Jesus, she not only wanted me to let him work here but live here too.

  “It’s menial work,” I pointed out.

  “I’d do it,” Chase spoke up. “I would do anything, Mr. Reynolds. Please give me a chance.”

  I looked in his eyes and saw nothing but honesty and desperation. I looked at Charly, who gazed back at me, her eyes pleading. “Please,” she whispered. “I’m asking for me.”

  I could never say no to her anymore

  “You take your meals in your room. I’ll pay you minimum wage and deduct board.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “Hardly,” Red snipped.

  I ignored her.

  “You answer to Brett. He says you’re out of here, and that’s it. You fuck this up, I’m taking you down,” I said to Chase.