by Bella Rose
“Then evict them,” Mr. Stark said calmly. “I advised your mother to do the same numerous times, but she wouldn’t. It would be simple. You know the local authorities would love nothing more than an excuse to kick the Hellfires off their compound.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“It is.”
“No. Because my brother wants that life, Mr. Stark.”
The attorney could no longer hang onto his neutral expression. He was openly gaping at her now. “Are you kidding me? You’re going to condone him living his life in a motorcycle gang? What sort of life would that be for him?”
“That’s his choice to make when the time comes,” she said firmly. “Until then I’m hoping to change his mind. But I can’t do that if he hates me.”
“That boy is an ungrateful wretch who is no better than his loser father.” Stark’s derisive tone set Leah’s temper off like a firecracker.
“Don’t you dare!” She shot to her feet and glared at the little man with the balding head and round glasses. “You don’t know what it was like for him! His father spoiled him rotten. But before that he was just a sweet baby who had no chance. None!”
Stark sighed. He seemed unbothered by her outburst. “He’s not that two-year-old that you knew anymore, Leah.”
That was the other reason she never considered firing this bastard. The guy knew entirely too much about her life. She sank back into her chair and pressed her palms to her cheeks. “That little boy is inside Thorn somewhere, Stark. I know he is. And now that Deacon is dead, I want a chance to find him. I want to show him that I love him. I want my baby brother back.”
Stark said nothing else. Instead he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “What do you want the agreement to cover? And leave no loopholes. Do you understand? Griffin Prentiss is going to be looking for a way to cut you out of the picture. You can be sure of that. If he finds it, that will mean the end of your having any control over your own life.”
***
The bar was closed when Leah pulled up in front and parked. She shoved her way through the front door and stopped short. Griffin was behind the bar. It looked as if he were cleaning things up for opening time. She hadn’t seen him since the night before when they had hatched this ridiculous plan. She already owed him a favor because he had stayed the night with Thorn in Deacon’s house. She didn’t like being beholden to him at all. But that was all going to change.
Leah marched up to the bar and laid the document that Stark had prepared for her on the smooth wood top. Griffin glanced over and then raised his eyebrows. He set down the towel he’d been using to wipe the bar. Picking up a pen, he flipped through the document. For one second she thought he was going to sign it without comment. But that was worse than wishful thinking on her part.
“No way,” he growled. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding! I marry you and the land becomes mine.”
“Why?” she snarled. “So you can turn around and give my brother’s inheritance to your Hellfire Inc. and leave Thorn and me with nothing?”
His expression suggested that was exactly what he had intended. “I’m not leaving you with nothing. You’d both have a place to live and food on the table.”
“I’m employed, you moron,” she snapped. “I’m a teacher in the local school district, remember? I don’t need you to provide for me. I’m not some Hellfire bimbo looking to ride in the bitch seat through life.”
He whistled. “That was a little judgmental, don’t you think?”
“Not really,” she retorted. “I’m not riding in the bitch seat. And I’m not going to let you push me around. Either you agree to these terms or I’m going to start proceedings with the local law enforcement offices to get you guys off my land.”
“Hang on just a second,” he said hurriedly. “Don’t get all upset and do something rash. You have to give me something. I have to give the crew a reassurance that you aren’t there to kick them off their land.”
“Then maybe they’d better start remembering that it isn’t their land to start with.” She pointed right at Griffin. “That’s something you need to remember too.”
“You never let me fucking forget it!” He threw the towel down onto the counter. “I should tell you to go to hell and just be done with it.”
“But you know I’m right.” She didn’t bother to hide her glee. She’d wanted to bring Griffin and the whole Hellfire Crew down a few pegs for as long as she could remember. “So you’re going to sign just like it is, and you’re going to do what I say because that’s how it works.”
Chapter Eight
Griffin had to let off some steam. It was either that or explode. And if he let go of his temper right now, he wasn’t certain he would ever be able to reel it back in. So after Leah got back in her ridiculous-looking subcompact car and drove away, Griffin mounted his Harley and started the engine. He listened to the purr as he hit the throttle. There was nothing more satisfying than that sound.
He revved the motor a few more times before he flipped up the kickstand. Adjusting his sunglasses until they were just right, he toed off the ground to get the bike rolling and then sped off down the street.
Half a dozen or more members of the Hellfire Crew lived around the old two- and three-story brick buildings surrounding the bar. They appeared now on their bikes. Falling in behind him, they didn’t ask where he was going or what he was going to do. They just rode. It was this solidarity that had always appealed to Griffin.
He led the crew out of town and toward the overlook. It was a popular route to take for bikers. They passed a few other groups. Most were just civilians on their expensive toys out for a leisurely jaunt. They always stuck out because of the way they would wave so enthusiastically to Griffin’s crew. The Hellfires all wore the same patch on the back of their jackets—a skull with hair of fire and a snake coming out of its mouth. It was distinctive and a bit macabre, but that had been their emblem for more decades than Griffin had been alive and he wasn’t about to lose the history and tradition that came with it.
Of course, the other thing that all Hellfires wore was a stylized 1% patch on their right shoulder. It was an indicator to anyone who cared to know that the Hellfires considered themselves outlaws. The patches had come into fashion with the gangs after a statement by the American Motorcyclist Association that suggested ninety nine percent of all motorcycle clubs were law abiding citizens. The rest of them had decided to embrace that stereotype outlaw motorcycle image with gusto.
Griffin increased the throttle and really let the bike go as they came onto a straightaway that led to a hill. The overlook where they always stopped was at the top. The scenery was beautiful. Fall was in peak color, and the contrast of the trees against the pale sky was intense.
Behind him, he heard the familiar sounds that had become a symbol of family. Hobbs’s Road King needed another tune up. Crash always gave his bike too much gas at the bottom of the hill and wound up having to brake in order to stay in formation. Nevins was riding his old Indian, and the distinctive whine of that engine spoke of a man who had given his bike more care than he had his last two wives.
Wind buffeted Griffin’s face, and he couldn’t help but grin as they took the final curve. He heard the others preparing to make the prearranged stop. Clutches were engaged, bikes shifted into a lower gear, and powerful engines whirred as they were forced to slow down. Finally, Griffin crossed the opposite lane in order to enter the patch of wide gravel on the side of the road known as the overlook.
He worked the steering as the bike’s tires met gravel and fish tailed just a bit. Griffin pushed the kickstand down with his boot and shut off the engine. He heard the murmurs of the others. With the exception of his close friends, they wouldn’t bother him. Not now. If he wanted solitude, this was the best way to get it without sacrificing anything in the process.
“Hey.” Hobbs approached. He was wearing his favorite pair of jeans with leather chaps over the top. His boots were scuffed and he’d ripped o
ut the sleeves of his thick denim jacket. He wore a black bandana over his blond hair. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Griffin didn’t really want to talk about it.
Hobbs put a cigarette in his mouth and lit up. “You really going to marry Leah?”
“Yeah.”
“I know you’ve had a thing for her since we were all kids.” Hobbs leaned against his bike. “Don’t let that get in the way and make you do something stupid.”
Griffin’s first instinct was to lash out, but Hobbs was right in a lot of ways. “That was a long time ago.”
“Seems like yesterday sometimes,” Hobbs said with a shrug. “Time doesn’t mean anything if you really care about someone.”
Griffin stared at his friend in surprise. “When did you become Mr. Insight?”
“I’ve just seen some things. You know?”
Griffin was reminded for the millionth time that Hobbs had loved a woman who had picked money and security over marriage to a Hellfire. “You think that’s what it would have been if you and Chelsea had gotten hitched?”
“The woman left me for a lawyer who could give her a steady income and a fancy house in the suburbs. What do you think?”
Griffin snorted. “That you’re a mechanic who could do a lot better than that bitch anyway.”
Hobbs shoved Griffin, and the two tussled like kids. Finally Griffin got the upper hand and put Hobbs in a headlock. They were both laughing by now. That laughter lasted until another motorcycle pulled into the overlook.
Griffin let go of Hobbs and along with the rest of the Hellfires, they stared at the newcomer with undisguised interest. The bike was 1200cc’s of power, and the operator was having a bit of difficulty controlling the thing. Griffin hadn’t seen the brand spanking new lineup of Harleys, but he was almost certain he was seeing one now. The dark red paint shimmered in the sunlight and the chrome was heavy on the shine. The rider wore a full helmet and a set of leathers that had probably cost more than Griffin’s bike. The passenger was decked out the same way. A couple of civilians with more money than sense.
A glance around told Griffin that most of the ten assembled Hellfire Crew members considered this unwelcome intrusion to be more amusing that insulting. That was good. When they felt as if someone were trying to step on their turf, the Hellfires got downright rude, even with innocent strangers.
The interlopers pulled off their helmets—a middle-aged man and woman, probably married. The driver—the man—waved eagerly at Griffin and Hobbs. “Hey!”
Griffin didn’t make the mistake of waving back to encourage more familiarity. Instead he waited to see what would happen.
It didn’t seem to faze the man. “Nice afternoon for a ride, right?”
“Nice enough.” Griffin offered a curt nod and nothing more.
Unfortunately, it was all he needed for encouragement. “Are you guys a real gang?”
The other Hellfires gaped in shock as they waited to see what the stranger would do or say next.
“Yeah.” Griffin hoped it would be enough. “And we ain’t real fond of outsiders.”
“Oh, I know!” The woman decided now was the time to involve herself in the conversation. “People who don’t ride just don’t get it. You know? They’re always like, why do you ride around on a Harley and we’re like, because it’s fun. You know? And they still just don’t get it.”
Hobbs snickered. “Is that right?”
“Totally!” she assured Hobbs.
“Hey.” The man took out his cell phone. “You mind if we take a selfie with you guys for our webpage?”
“Oh shit,” Hobbs was now laughing openly, as were the rest of the crew.
“Come on!” The wife was already off the bike. She approached Griffin and before he knew what was happening, she was dragging him toward her husband’s bike. “Just one. I’ll text it to you if you want.”
“No thanks,” Griffin said uncomfortably.
As the other Hellfires laughed so hard they nearly fell over and knocked over their bikes as well, Griffin was subjected to posing with the woman and man as they took about a dozen selfies. Then the woman started taking ridiculous photos while kissing his cheek and Griffin had to check the urge to shove her off the cliff.
“Enough!” he growled. “Get on your bike and get the hell out of here before you get hurt.”
“What are you talking about?” the woman looked confused. “They’re all laughing and having fun!”
And then, because Griffin’s day wasn’t going to get better, he saw the Demon Lovers come around the curve. The rival gang was headed straight toward the lookout. There were perhaps eight of them, but it was enough.
Griffin grabbed the woman’s arm and hauled her back over to her husband’s bike. “Get on and shut up. Ride out of here while you still can.”
The Hellfires had stopped laughing. They were adjusting their headgear, sunglasses, and mostly themselves in preparation for just about anything. The Demon Lovers liked to brawl. Griffin had no doubt that they could easily overpower them, but he didn’t want this couple hanging around to get caught in the crossfire.
“Oh! Look, honey!” The husband was pointing. “Another gang!”
The Demon Lovers’ grey-bearded leader slid to a stop in a cloud of dust. He got off his bike and stalked in Griffin’s direction. “What’s this? A photo op?”
The couple seemed to possess at least a little sense of self-preservation because they got real sober real quick. Then they got back on their bike and hightailed it out of there. Griffin felt better. At least he could focus on the real threat now.
“This is Hellfire territory, Joe,” Griffin said casually. “What brings you out?”
“Heard a rumor,” Joe drawled. “Someone said you were getting hitched to old Deacon Rawlins’s daughter.”
“So what?” Griffin shrugged. “Ain’t no business of yours what I do.”
“You think you’re the leader of that crew.” Joe pointed at Griffin. The man was the same age as Deacon, and had the same brutish tendencies. “Thorn Rawlins is the rightful leader.”
“Thorn is a kid.”
“He’s still the leader. The rest of us don’t figure we’ll acknowledge you as the boss. You’re too new and untried.”
“So try me,” Griffin snarled. He held out his hand and crooked his fingers to beckon the older man closer. “I’ll show you exactly what I am.”
“Being a fighter doesn’t make you a leader—boy.”
Nothing pissed Griffin off more than being referred to as a kid. He marched over to the older man and got right in his face. Joe didn’t flinch.
“I don’t hit old men.” Griffin turned his head and spat, the saliva landing on Joe’s boot.
Joe’s men surged forward, but Hobbs and the other Hellfires were right there waiting.
“Get your ass off our territory,” Griffin growled. “You don’t have to like it, but I’m in charge here and that’s all there is to it. Maybe Thorn will come after me. I don’t know. But I do know that if you’re still here by the time I count to five, I’m going to punt your butt off that fucking cliff, no matter how old you are.”
Joe shook his head, looking a little uncertain and trying not to show it. He got back on his bike, and the Demon Lovers retreated down the road in the direction they had come from.
Griffin watched them go. Then he turned to Hobbs and pursed his lips. “And that is the other reason I have to marry Leah Rawlins.”
Chapter Nine
Leah brandished the signed prenuptial agreement at Thorn. “This is proof that in a few days’ time you’re going to be moving back to that house. Understand? But until then you’re going to stay with me, go to school, and try not to scare the crap out of me by running away every other second. Got it?”
Leah only had ten minutes until she needed to leave for work. She was doing her level best to makes sure that while she was at the middle school teaching English, he would be at the high school attempting to learn. She put the lid o
n her travel mug and tried to spare enough attention to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything for work.
Thorn gave a groan that could have felled a tree. “Seriously? School? Why?”
“Even Deacon had a high school diploma,” Leah reminded him. “Just go and get your diploma, all right?”
Thorn folded his arms over his chest and harrumphed like an old man. “School is stupid.”
“And so will you be if you don’t go,” she retorted. “Now get your ass in the car and I’ll give you a ride.”
“What?” he yelped. “No way!”
“Fine. I’ll drop you off a block away so nobody will know your sister drove you.”
“Why can’t I drive?”
“Because I don’t have two cars and I need to get to work.”
He rolled his eyes. “I could drive my bike.”
Leah’s gut clenched with a bad case of nerves. “So you can kill yourself? No thanks!”
“You’re such an old lady. Were you born old? Or did you just get all dried up and boring when you and Mom left?” Thorn stomped out of the house, leaving Leah feeling a bit worse for wear.
Was he right? She had struggled most of her life to be proper and live the sort of life her mother wanted her to. She did all the right things, knew all the right people, dated the right men who had the right jobs, and she never felt like she got anywhere in life. Now she had managed to put herself in a position where she was marrying the wrong man for all the wrong reasons. Oh, the irony.
Leah left the house behind Thorn and let the door slam closed with a satisfying bang. Then she got in her car with the silent, sullen teenager and drove him to school. As promised, she stopped a block away and let him out. Thorn looked so odd in his ripped jeans, leather jacket with the Hellfire patch on the back, and his thick soled black boots. He looked like a miniature Deacon, and that bothered Leah intensely. The kid needed a better role model. Not that she was really offering him one in Griffin.
