Hammer: M.C. Biker Romance (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Book 13)

by Jayne Blue

  The last time I saw Granddad before bolting out of Flat Rock, he thought I was a nurse that worked at Gray Acres. All I could do was play along. It usually made him angry when I tried to explain who I was.

  I hugged him and then, on my way out, stopped at the front desk.

  “I’m going to be out of town for a while. I lost my cell and, well, I wonder if I call in few days with new contact information for Bernie Moore?”

  “Sure thing – no problem,” said the orderly at the desk.

  I left Gray Acres behind and hoped that Rex Lynch would quickly lose interest in me and I could move back. The bottom line was that he was safe here right now and I wasn’t.

  I drove north. It was May in Michigan, and the resorts up north were hiring.

  Traverse City, Glen Arbor, Petoskey, North Port; there were dozens of summer tourist towns and they were all booming. I didn’t know where I’d land, but I hoped, with my waitressing experience, I could find something, fast.

  I decided on Petoskey. It was smaller than Traverse City but bigger than Glen Arbor. I found work, right away, at The Marina Lounge on Little Traverse Bay. The town was a mix of locals and summer residents, tourists, and townies. It felt like Petoskey was big enough that I could blend into the background but small enough that a Devil’s Hawk couldn’t. I’d put three hundred miles between Rex Lynch and me. I felt pretty sure that it would be enough.

  It wasn’t too busy yet. The tourism season would begin in earnest next week, after Memorial Day.

  It took me only one day to get the job and then find a one-bedroom apartment, in Petoskey. It was a quick drive to the restaurant. The way it fell into place felt like good omens. Like the job and the apartment meant I would be okay. I was okay.

  About a week after I said goodbye to Granddad, I called Gray Acres.

  “Hi, this is Bernie Moore’s granddaughter. I just wanted to give you new contact information in case of an emergency.” I left the information, and they transferred me to Granddad.

  “Hi, Daniella girl!” He knew who I was. He was all there during our call.

  It was good. I told him I needed to be out of town, that I was a waitress, that The Marina Lodge was kind of ritzy, and that he didn’t need to worry about me being safe. It was good to talk to him. He was the only one I could confide in, the only one I could tell about where I was. Rex Lynch had me sufficiently scared. I was afraid enough of him to be quiet around anyone I met, but Granddad couldn’t remember his last name half the time. So, we talked.

  He listened to my stories about my new place, and new job, and then proceeded to tell me about the idiot family on The Feud who couldn’t name the top five most popular breakfast cereals.

  “I mean who doesn’t say, Cap’n Crunch?” We laughed together. It felt good.

  “I’ll call you in a few days okay, Granddad?”

  “Okay. And who is this?”

  I didn’t argue. We hung up.

  The Marina Lounge was nine thousand percent nicer than the diner in Flat Rock. And the tips were that amount better too.

  “You’re adorably cute, you’re good at your job, and you’re new. You’re going to make a couple hundred a night, don’t even worry about it.”

  Angie Latrell was my new co-worker. She showed me the ropes at The Marina Lounge and had pointed me to her apartment complex when I was looking for a room to rent.

  “Four top college dudes. All of ‘em have money thanks to Daddy and Mommy. Once they’re soused, they’ll be tipping like there’s no tomorrow. Don’t say I never gave you anything.” She pointed me in the direction of the table. And she was right.

  “How long until you’re off?” They were all wearing University of Michigan gear of one type or another. And they wanted me to hang out with them, which was cute, I guess. But hanging out with college boys who spent their daddy’s money like it was growing on trees wasn’t on my list of fun things to do.

  “I’m not allowed to hang out with customers.” One of the dudes grabbed the waistband of my jeans and tugged me forward. I laughed and then made a little spin move.

  “Don’t want me to spill your beers now do you?” I had survived bikers and truckers; who knew frat boys were going to be even more handsy? But staying smiley and cheerful was the job, and it was worth it. They stayed twice as long as any of my other tables, and they left three times as much for me. I paid my bartender and the busboy and still that one night of work would take care of half of my rent.

  When my shift was finally over, at closing time, I was tired. I’d earned that rent money!

  “Told you about those boys. More money than sense,” Angie said, and I laughed.

  “Want to hit the Tap Room, they’re open late?”

  “No, I’m pretty beat, and pulling a lunch shift tomorrow.”

  “Okay, another time.”

  I walked out to my car. It was a fifteen-year-old Honda Accord. It had one hundred and fifty thousand miles on it, and it ran like a champ. I’d traded it for my twenty-year-old Accord on my drive up here.

  After the trade in and the deposit on my apartment, I was down to half the money I’d gotten from the pawn shop. But still, that was pretty good. Over two-grand to spare and I was making good tips. I calculated what I’d be sending to Gray Acres this month, groceries, gas, and the meager expenses I had. I’d be okay. I kept telling myself that. I’d be okay.

  I was still doing my living expenses math when I ran into the frat boy contingency.

  I was almost to my car. Could I sprint for it? Did I need to? I realized I was judging a bunch of college kids by the standards of the Devil’s Hawks and relaxed a little.

  “Hey beauty, let’s take the party back to our place. The parents aren’t going to be in town until tomorrow. We’ve got the place to ourselves!” They were all drunk. Two were lanky, almost looked like basketball players, one was pudgy, like light beer was a foreign concept, and one was only my height. But the four together? That pricked my antenna.

  I was close to my car. I clicked open the lock and put a hand on the door. If I needed to slide in fast, I was getting ready to do it.

  “You’re so hot.” One of the tall ones had stepped close to me. I had the door between us, but he still put a hand on my hair. Shit, I was going to have to do this. I played along with them though, until I had the right moment.

  “Awe, thanks. So, where’s the condo? Can I follow you guys?” The tall one ran his hand from my hair to my shoulder. I smiled and hoped he was too drunk to stop my upcoming maneuver. I also hoped I could do this without pissing him off. I needed my job, the tips, and the future tips of his rich family.

  “I can drive with you baby.” He leaned over and whispered it to the top of my head.

  I slid away, fast, and down into the front seat, effectively pushing Handsy McFrat Boy away, but not actually doing it.

  I started the car and rolled down the window.

  “Maybe tomorrow? I’m really beat, okay?” I smiled, winked, and waved like I didn’t have a care in the word, or a clue about what they liked about me.

  I put the car in reverse and slowly backed out of the spot. I didn’t look back.

  Shit, that was close. I just hoped they would remember me smiling and laughing and didn’t realize that what I wanted to do was kick that asshole in the nutsack.

  Sometimes waiting on drunk people lead to this exact scenario. I had to get smarter about walking to my car. I thought back to the nasty pinch Dirt had given me in the diner.

  I’d come a long way since that night. And I’d learned a lot about how to take care of myself. If I’d done it back then, I wouldn’t have fallen into Rex’s arms.

  Life lesson learned.

  Seven

  HAMMER

  “I’m here to visit Mr. Moore.”

  “Are you a relative?

  “He’s my Uncle.”

  “Oh, he only gets his granddaughter here! He’ll be so happy.”

  I lied my way through the Grey Acres front desk. An or
derly took me through a series of hallways, to Bernie Moore’s room.

  He was sitting in a chair by the window. He was looking outside and didn’t notice us as we came in.

  “Bernie? It’s your nephew,” the orderly said, and the old man slowly looked up. His eyes were clouded.

  “I don’t have a nephew.”

  The orderly looked at me and whispered under his breath.

  “Some days he remembers, some days he doesn’t. Don’t take it personally.”

  “No problem, I’ll just sit with him. It’s been a long time.”

  I walked to the corner and sat in a chair that was angled next to the one Bernie occupied. He looked at me again, and I recognized his eyes. They were the same green as his granddaughter’s. Though the whites were lined with red veins, water was leaking from them on to the bags below them.

  “Family Feud eh? Good show, though no one is as funny as Richard Dawson.” Now Dawson hadn’t been hosting in my lifetime, but I’d seen the old stuff on the Game Show Network. It was a shot in the dark to try to get the old man to open up.

  “You’re so right! Dawson, and those suits. I love those suits.”

  “With the vests, no one dresses like that anymore.”

  “Well, Steve Harvey gotta give him that!” The man was off and running on Family Feud. We watched an episode. He laughed and answered questions. We had a pretty damn good time, as good a time you could have with an old man who wasn’t your uncle and wasn’t all there anymore.

  He seemed to be comfortable with me, so I slipped it in some conversation, designed to get me what I needed.

  “Hear from Daniella lately?” I figured he’d call her by her full name. Who knew though?

  “Yes! Oh, it was just this morning. We talked on the phone. She’s working at a nice place in Petoskey.”

  “Oh, a restaurant?”

  “Yes, The Water Lounge or The Boat Lounge or something. Living there now. It’s tourism season, you know. She’s just as cute as a button, makes tips hand over fist.”

  I nodded and filed it all away.

  We watched a little more, and I noticed Bernie’s eyes getting cloudy again. He was having trouble keeping them open. And I decided it was time to go.

  There was a crocheted blanket on the chair behind me. I picked it up and laid it across his knees. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

  “Daniella crocheted this for me. Your Aunt Marie taught her, you remember?”

  I deduced Marie was his late wife. I quickly scanned the room, and there was a picture, black and white, of what had to be a young Bernie and his Marie.

  “And she got her looks from Aunt Marie too, we can’t let her forget that,” I said. Again, it was a stab in the dark, this time at the Moore family history.

  “Take that to the bank!” he said and chuckled. Bernie settled back into his chair and was soon fast asleep. I took another look around the room. Bernie and Marie, and then a picture of them a little more recently with a cinnamon haired girl with a ponytail standing between them. It was Daniella. Again, her eyes reached out from the photo and held me.

  I felt bad about deceiving the old man, but I had a job to do. My family, the Great Wolves, was in trouble. I swore to do all I could to help them, even if it meant this bullshit mission. Even if it meant walking down memory lane with a man who wasn’t my uncle.

  I had a lead, a solid lead.

  It was time head up north. I looked at my phone. I typed in The Water Lounge, nothing. The Boat Lounge, nothing. But there was a place called The Marina Lounge.

  Bingo.

  I got on my bike and headed north. It was a long way from Flat Rock to Petoskey. I had about five hours on my bike ahead of me. But the sky was clear, and the weather was warm for May, so a day on my bike on the open road wasn’t something to complain about.

  When I rolled into Petoskey, I decided to hover a bit. The Marina Lounge was easy to find. It was right along Little Traverse Bay.

  I had to stop and stare for a moment. It was gorgeous here, this place, this town. It was no wonder tourists flocked to it. I mean, it was cold as a witch’s tit in the winter, but you could ski nearby if you didn’t mind being cold as fuck.

  A lot of times I stick out. It’s hard to blend in when you’re six-four and as wide as a linebacker. If I was wearing my cut, and my riding gear, it wasn’t something that people forgot. I didn’t want to tip Daniella off if she was in there. I didn’t want to be on this errand longer than I had to be if she bolted again. Plus, if I went in and started asking around, someone was going to tip her off.

  I hung out by my bike, in the parking lot, where the lights didn’t shine and looked inside as the sunset.

  The restaurant was all windows. There was a bar in the center and tables all around. It was a little too cold to hang out on the deck, but I could imagine the place would be hopping as the nights got warmer. They had another full bar on the deck and slips for boats. It was a classy place, nothing like the diner that Daniella Moore was working at before she ran away.

  It was easy to see inside the place. And I caught a glimpse of cinnamon hair, swishing behind a pretty face, and that damn fine body. Daniella Moore was working hard for the money tonight. I watched her as she deftly moved from table to table. She smiled and weaved in and out of the fairly packed restaurant with a tray on her shoulder. I liked the way she moved. Something about it was graceful, even while she was working her ass off for this group of rich customers. You’d have to have some coin to hang at The Marina Lounge, it appeared.

  Finally, it looked like her shift was over. The place was shutting down. She organized her tables. I lost sight of her as she clocked out. I moved to the dark side of the parking lot, where the employees clearly parked. There were older model cars here, not the new SUVs that populated the main spots in front.

  I watched as she came out. My plan was to follow her home, and then probably let her sleep. I would catch her in the morning and let her know that she was headed back to Rex. That was that. I didn’t want to know any more detail about why Rex Lynch wanted her back so badly. I didn’t want to know what made her so valuable. I just wanted to finish my job for the M.C.

  Daniella had put a jean jacket on over her thin Marina Lounge t-shirt. That was not going to keep her warm enough.

  Where the hell did that thought come from? Who gave a shit if she was cold?

  I was ready to rev up my bike to follow her when four figures appeared next to her car. I recognized them from inside. Her customers were following her out, her male customers. My hackles were up now. What was she doing hanging with them? Did she earn extra this way? Man, people sucked.

  I listened hard. They were asking her to party and one, a lanky motherfucker, was pawing her. She smiled at them, laughed even. But I just had the sense she wanted the fuck out of there. It looked like they were trouble and she wasn’t interested.

  And then she pulled a slick ass move. She got in her car and closed the door, telling them she’d hang later or some shit. She smiled at them, laughed, and made it seem like she was interested as she backed out of her spot. Smooth as hell, girl. I had to give her major credit for that one.

  I got closer to the four frat boys.

  “She’s a fucking cock tease. Let’s meet up at her place.”

  “She turned you down, Chuckie.” One was laughing.

  “Yeah, let’s go. She’s still down to party, I think.” Chuckie didn’t like rejection.

  That’s when I decided to let them know the party was over.

  “I think you little boys ought to run home.” I stepped out of the shadows and didn’t try to disguise what I was. A bad-ass motherfucker from the Great Wolves M.C.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Chuckie stepped forward, seemingly unafraid of a bad-ass motherfucker.

  “I’m someone you don’t want to fuck with, that about covers it,” I said.

  “Let’s go, she’s not worth this bullshit,” the other tall one said. And the short, pudgy one grabbed Chu
ckie’s Michigan T-shirt sleeve and yanked him back. Chuckie’s friends had more sense than he did.

  The group walked away from me and back to their Volvo or whatever the fuck their parents bought them to drive.

  I’d lost my chance to follow Daniella to her house. But it was worth it to run off those asshats.

  I felt a disproportionate amount of anger at the words they’d used to talk about her. ‘Cock tease’ and ‘down to party.’ I knew, if Daniella hadn’t slickly extricated herself from this situation, I would have been in a fucking frat boy fight over a woman I didn’t give two shits about.

  I thought about that swishing ponytail again.

  It looked like I’d need to find a place to crash in Petoskey until I could figure out what was what with Daniella Moore. And her goddamn gorgeous green eyes.

  Eight

  DANIELLA

  It was a tough turn around, night shift to lunch, but at least it meant an early night. I hoped that I had deflected the Frat Boy Four well enough not to bruise any egos. I hoped they were drunk enough to not really remember me sliding away.

  I also hoped they were sleeping it off and I wouldn’t have to deal with them for the lunch crowd. And it was a crowd. It wasn’t the kind of money you made at night, so a lot of the girls were annoyed to work the earlier shift. I was the new girl though, so I took what I got, schedule-wise.

  I had made a clean getaway. I had started fresh. This was going to all work out. That’s what I’d been telling myself the last few days. That was what I believed. I still had the issue of my granddad – I wanted to see him. But for now, calling on the phone and sending what money I could would have to be enough.

  But starting last night, and into this morning, I had a feeling that someone was watching me. It started when I drove away from work last night. And then again today when I parked my car at work. I couldn’t shake it, even when I was running sandwiches out to tables and ringing up checks. It just felt like there were eyes on me.

  I shook it off as best I could and handled the lunch crowd.