Code-Switching

by Zena Wynn

  He gave my arm a squeeze before releasing me. “That’s better. Berkley-Adams really has a hard on to do business with my company. You’re a very attractive woman. You have something I want, and I have something they want. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”

  “Are you suggesting I sleep with you in exchange for you signing a contract with us?” My voice was pure ice.

  “I’m proposing a business deal in which you exchange something I want for something you need.” Manning’s expression was smug, as though he knew I’d agree.

  “No. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

  He reached out and caught my left arm in a bruising grip. “You think you’re too good for me?”

  “Yes, actually, I do.” A hint of the Bronx crept into my tone.

  He gripped me between my legs as he snarled, “No matter how high and mighty you act, this pussy is the same as any other. Might as well put it to good use.”

  I open hand jabbed him in his throat and followed up with several blows to his head. He gagged and released my arm, bringing both hands up to protect his face. I kicked him in the nuts with the full force of my leg and he dropped to the floor, his face a picture of agony as he cupped his balls.

  “No means no, motherfucker,” I said as I proceeded to kick the shit out of him. Manning curled into a protective ball, knees to his chest and his hands over his head as I rained fury down on him.

  Zach’s strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me off him. “Catherine, what the hell are you doing?”

  “This motherfucker grabbed me by my crotch when I refused to have sex with him to seal the deal,” I said.

  “He what?” Zach exploded. He released me and took a step toward Manning.

  “The cops are one their way,” a female voice said behind Zach. We both turned to see one of the young black waitresses standing there, cellphone in her hand. “I heard the commotion and came to see what all the fuss was about. I keep telling them it’s too dark in this place. They’re asking to be sued.”

  At the mention of the police, Zach and I both stiffened. I opened my mouth to tell the waitress it wasn’t necessary when Zach spoke over me. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”

  “I ain’t no snitch,” I hissed to Zach. With all the moaning Manning was doing, no one but him heard me.

  He came closer and spoke into my ear. “Tikki may not be a snitch, but Catherine just assaulted a potential client, and the restaurant has it on the security video. I just noticed the camera.”

  I rested my forehead on his shoulder and took a deep breath as I fought off anger and the adrenaline rush. He put his arm around my waist and held me close.

  “Is there somewhere we can sit while we wait? My fiancé is shaking with reaction,” Zach said. For once, I didn’t feel the automatic need to correct his claim.

  “I’ll bring over a few chairs and set them to the side, out of the walkway. I need to tell the manager what happened, so he won’t be surprised when the police arrive.” The waitress gave Manning another look and then grinned at me. “Lady, I don’t know where you learned to fight, but betcha next time he’ll think twice about putting his hands where they aren’t wanted.”

  “Self-defense classes,” I said.

  “No shittin’ me. I need to sign up. Run into all kinds of types in this business,” she said before walking off.

  I heard movement behind me. Zach stiffened and growled in a low, dangerous voice, “You get up from that floor, and I’m going to put you back down.”

  “This is outrageous,” Manning blustered, but he stayed on the floor. “Your partner assaulted me.”

  “Tell it to the cops,” Zach said.

  “I intend to when I press charges against her,” Manning said, pointing at me.

  “Do it. We have a witness who saw what happened, and there’s footage on the security camera,” Zach said.

  I kept quiet because if I spoke, I’d go Tikki on his ass and finish what I started. It was bad enough I couldn’t get to Deke like I wanted, and then this fucker comes along. If I got my hands on Manning again, he’d need an ambulance.

  I wasn’t the only one furious. From the tension vibrating in Zach’s body, he was just looking for an excuse to stump Manning into the ground. Before the atmosphere could tense even further, the cops arrived. I found out the waitress’s name was Sophia when she, Zach, and I gave statements.

  Manning loudly protested our version of events and pointed to the bruising becoming evident on his face. “She assaulted me. I’m the victim here. I think she broke my ribs.”

  “You grabbed her between her legs, and she opened up a can of whoop ass on you. Serves you right,” the waitress said.

  “The restaurant should have security footage of what happened. There’s a camera right there.” Zach pointed up toward the security camera mounted over the exit. The camera, designed to keep track of who entered the restricted areas and rear emergency exit, was perfectly positioned to see everything that happened.

  The senior cop turned to the manager, who stood next to Sophia. “I need to see a copy of that security footage.”

  “Right this way,” the manager said.

  One cop followed while the other stayed with us. The one who remained asked a few follow up questions to make sure he had our statements correct.

  Before long, the second cop returned with his handcuffs out. “Mr. Manning, you’re under arrest.”

  Manning sputtered. “On what charge?”

  “Forcible touching,” the cop said.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Manning bellowed.

  “Take it up with the judge,” the cop said in a bored tone of voice.

  As they perp walked him out of the restaurant, Sophia said, “Good. Hopefully, he’ll get jail time but knowing the system, if it’s a first offense he’ll only get six months’ probation.”

  I glanced at her. “How do you know so much?”

  She smiled. “I’m a law student at NYU.”

  “Thanks for your assistance and for sticking around to tell what you saw,” I said. Most people didn’t like to get involved.

  “Not a problem. Jerry, I keep telling you the lights back here are too dark. Look at what happened. You’ll be lucky if they don’t sue,” Sophia told the manager.

  The Italian looking manager grimaced in our direction before scowling at her. “Don’t put ideas in their heads. Go cover your tables. I’m sure Ann will be glad for the assistance.” As Sophia walked off, he muttered, “Damn law students. Think they know everything.”

  Despite his bluster, Jerry comped our meals and offered us our choice of desserts to go. I still wanted to kick someone’s ass. No sugary treat was going to change that. Zach declined on both our behalves.

  As we strolled out of the restaurant, Zach said, “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink. Manning better be happy I spotted that camera, or I’d have finished what you started.”

  “A drink sounds good. One drink? Hell, I need a bottle,” I said.

  “Good. I know just the place,” Zach said.

  Chapter Ten

  Tikki

  Zach parked on the street, and I waited while he came around and opened my door. As we walked toward the bar, he took my hand in his. I glanced at all of the motorcycles and then up at him. “You brought me to a biker bar?”

  “Yeah. Do me a favor. Use your Catherine persona in there, okay?”

  “Pardon me?” I asked in my most proper tone.

  He grinned. “Yeah, that’s the one. The ice princess ‘butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth’ voice you use at Berkley-Adams.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” Just to be contrary, my tone was pure Bronx.

  Laughing softly, he towed me along with him. Zach didn’t laugh often. Something had him in a good mood.

  A few men stood outside near the motorcycles, drinking brew and laughing. Some made catcalls to passing female pedestrians. A couple nodded respectfully to Zach when they spotted him. They noted the possessive hol
d Zach had on my hand and scanned me from head-to-toe, but no one addressed me with so much as a nod.

  One rushed to open the door, and we walked inside. The sound of hard rock music met us, along with the conversations of multiple people, and the clinking of pool balls. Several men, all wearing jackets with the same motorcycle club colors, glanced toward the door as we stepped inside, their expressions hard and suspicious. It was replaced with curiosity when they recognized Zach and me behind him.

  This asshole hadn’t just brought me to a biker bar. Zach had brought me to his motorcycle club headquarters. I didn’t know a lot about MCs, but I knew they generally operated by some of the same rules and protocols as street gangs. Hell, some of them were little more than gangs who rode around on motorcycles.

  I peered around with interest. Why the hell had Zach asked me to present my professional persona when Tikki would be more appropriate? I kept my questions to myself and my mouth closed. This was his world, as evidenced by the amount of people he knew and the fact that no one ran us out of here for intruding.

  One side of the interior held a long bar with seating for ten. The other side held tables for four. Lining the middle were two pool tables with more in the back, along with a meeting area. On the wall hung pictures of various models of Harley Davidson motorcycles, and over the bar the club’s name and insignia were immortalized by a lighted sign.

  He circulated the room, greeting fellow club members, before leading me to the bar. “Axel around?”

  The grizzly looking bartender nodded a greeting and glanced at me before responding. “He’s in the back. What’ll you have?”

  “Catherine?” Zach asked.

  “Tequila.” My plans to get wasted were put on hold. I needed to keep my wits about me.

  “Tequila for my old lady and tap for me,” Zach said.

  Old lady? I hadn’t given it much thought when he’d introduced himself to Luis as my old man. Frankly, I’d been too pissed and figured Zach merely said it in an attempt to fit into an unfamiliar environment. Apparently, I was wrong. Old lady meant the same in my world as it did in the MCs. Zach had claimed me as his property.

  The bartender poured the drinks and slid them to Zach. He handed me my glass, took up his mug of brew, and motioned for me to follow him. As we walked toward the rear of the club, Zach greeted the men and women we passed, the majority of whom also wore the MC’s insignia. If I were a less confident woman, I’d feel out of place in my business suit.

  Finally, we reached the doorway to a small office. A man who looked like an older version of Zach sat behind the desk with his feet on top of it. Two men sporting the same MC jackets stood before the desk speaking with him. Zach waited quietly in the doorway until the older man acknowledged him.

  I turned my attention to the wall art and sipped my drink, deliberately not tuning into the conversation being conducted. With the music so loud, I wouldn’t have been able to hear anything anyway, but it was appearances that mattered. The number one rule of both MCs and street gangs was respect. We took disrespect seriously. Like kick your ass and teach you some manners seriously.

  As his guest, anything I did reflected on Zach. If a lesson needed to be taught, he’d be the one to receive it for bringing me here. I’d have done the same. Guests should fucking know how to behave when they’re in your territory, or they shouldn’t come around.

  “Gunner, come in.”

  Zach caught my attention and tugged me forward as the other two guys left.

  “This her?” the older guy I guessed was Axel asked.

  “Yeah. Catherine, this is Axel Anderson, President of the Iron Riders MC, Brooklyn chapter. Axel, meet my old lady, Catherine Brown,” Zach said.

  Axel gave me a hard stare, which I met with my even one as I nodded in acknowledgement. If his goal was to intimidate me, he’d picked the wrong woman.

  “Thought you’d be here earlier,” Axel griped, still holding my gaze. “She looks too prissy to be an old lady.”

  Zach laughed. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d have seen her kicking the shit out of a guy less than an hour ago.”

  A hint of disbelief entered Axel’s expression. “That’s something I’d have to see to believe. What about you? Got anything to say for yourself?”

  “Not really, no.” I wouldn’t try to impress him or anyone else in this building.

  His eyes widened and he finally broke the staring contest to glance at Zach. “At least she isn’t a mouse.”

  My cellphone rang, the ringtone one I’d assigned to Luis. Holding up a finger, I whipped my phone out of my purse with one hand. “Excuse me. I have to take this call.”

  “Talk to me,” I ordered, already moving toward the door.

  Zach caught me by the forearm and slid his hand down to bracelet my wrist. “Stay here.”

  My mind flashed to Manning, and my eyes narrowed in annoyance.

  “Deke’s dead.”

  Zach forgotten, my attention snapped to the phone in my hand.

  “They pulled his body out of the East River. Somebody worked him over real good before slicing his throat,” Luis said.

  “Ma? Jamie?”

  “Your ma’s connection to Deke wasn’t well known, and word is that the group found their stash. I’d say they’re safe enough,” Luis said.

  Probably tortured Deke until he gave up the location, I mused.

  “Keep someone on them, just in case. Make sure the issue is settled. Ma swears she didn’t know, but that won’t stop folks from thinking she was involved,” I said.

  Ma and her damned hookups.

  “On it. We’ll keep our ears to the ground. You still coming by tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, in the afternoon. Look, I gotta go. I’m in a meet. Let me know if anything changes,” I said, disconnecting the call.

  When I turned, both Zach and Axel were watching me with near matching quizzical expressions.

  “Was that Luis? Did something go down?” Zach asked.

  “Who is Luis?” Axel asked.

  My gaze traveled from Zach, to Axel, and pointedly back again as I lifted an eyebrow. Did he really think I was going to discuss personal shit in front of this character?

  Zach caught my drift. “Axel’s good people.”

  “I don’t care if he’s a patron saint. I don’t discuss business in front of outsiders. No offense intended,” I said to Axel.

  Axel smiled approvingly. “None taken. I like your old lady. Bring her to our next function. Still say she looks too prissy to ride bitch.”

  “She can ride,” Zach assured him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zach

  For the third time in as many days, I parked outside of Catherine’s apartment complex. The minute we’d gotten inside of the car, she’d called someone and had a long conversation in Spanish. I hadn’t had a chance to ask any of the questions I’d been holding.

  When we reached her apartment complex, I couldn’t suppress a feeling of pride as I walked around to open her car door. Catherine had passed the test tonight with flying colors. Without being prompted, she’d handled my introduction of her to my MC brothers like a pro, switching gears as easily there as she did everywhere else. Even Axel, that picky bastard, had expressed his approval. Given her background, I’d suspected she would.

  Catherine ended her call as I opened her car door. For once, she didn’t attempt to dissuade me from escorting her all the way to her apartment. We walked in silence, and her expression revealed she was deep in thought.

  When we exited the elevator onto her floor, I finally asked, “Who was that on the phone earlier?”

  “Luis,” she said.

  “He must have heard something,” I said, absolutely sure.

  Catherine slid her key in the lock and twisted. When it unlocked, she opened the door and motioned me inside.

  “You’re allowing me to come in?” I asked, both stunned and pleased.

  “I’m not discussing this in the hallway.” Her Bronx accent was in
full effect.

  I stepped inside. She followed and closed the door behind us. In a nearby closet, she hung her jacket on a hanger and held out her hand for my coat. I silently handed it to her and then glanced around.

  Her apartment was fairly spacious, by New York standards. A large foyer led into the living room/dining room combo. One short hallway to the left of the foyer led to the master bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. Near the rear of the living room, I saw a glass door which housed another bedroom.

  The floors were gleaming hardwood, the walls were a neutral tan, and the furniture was comfortable but sparse. Catherine didn’t like clutter any more than I did. She led me into the living room and over to the sofa sectional. When she sat, I settled next to her.

  “Deke’s dead. They pulled his body out of the East River.”

  “You still got someone watching out for your mother and Jamie?” I asked.

  “Luis does, yeah.”

  I sighed and placed my hand on her knee. “Tikki, I know you’re the head of the Outcasts. Luis is just a figurehead.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “No, I stepped down so he could take over. I’m still involved, but you should understand. Your old man’s the fucking head of an MC.”

  “Yeah, you don’t walk away from family. I grew up in the Iron Riders. My old man’s been a member a long time,” I said, glad everything was finally out in the open between us.

  “What about your ma?” Catherine asked.

  “She took off when I was nine. It’s been me and Axel ever since. What about you?” I asked, since she appeared to be opening up.

  “My father died when I was three. My paternal grandmother raised me but died when I was eleven. Then I went to live with my mother full-time.” Her Spanish accent grew thicker whenever she spoke of her mother. She pinned me with her intent gaze. “Show me your ink.”

  Smiling seductively, I stood and slowly began to disrobe. I took off my suit jacket and tossed it to the side. A tug loosened my tie and I pulled it free. After undoing the cuffs, I unbuttoned my shirt, aware of Catherine’s eyes watching my every move. I stripped off the white dress shirt and pulled the long-sleeved white undershirt over my head.