by Jayne Blue
“So they’re a ragtag bunch of bikers?”
“Yeah, sounds about right. They’ve got a pocket of decent guys. But no income. We’re going to lose them to Devil’s Hawks if they don’t get stronger. I want to throw them a lifeline. They’re a provisional Great Wolves MC. The town itself is struggling too. I paid ‘em a visit, and I don’t think they’re a lost cause. They also happen to have the space and talent for a little auto body shop.”
“A few mechanics in the bunch?”
“Three to be exact.”
“I’m in.”
“You’ve got the system set up here. Now go help our brothers in Southwood. I’m sending Ridge with you too. I don’t want any of my guys riding alone there you understand?”
“Will do boss.” Ridge and I got along well. He was quiet, similar to Stone, my closest brother in the MC. Ridge was an officer too. He’d earned it with muscle, blood, and doing what had to be done.
“And Ryder, be careful, Southwood is a lot closer to the Motor City than Grand City. It could get rough. But I’m sending you and Ridge because it’s going to take my strongest brothers to pull this off.”
“Understood.”
“We’re a text message away.” Sawyer put a hand on my shoulder. He was closer to a father figure than anyone I had in my life. It made me feel good to know he trusted me. First with a spot at the officer's table. And now with helping the Great Wolves expand.
Southwood. Devil’s Hawks. That was Jules’s dad’s territory. I’d already fucked up three of those assholes. I should have told Sawyer my history with that club. But I didn’t.
If I couldn’t have Jules, I could enjoy pissing off her Daddy by helping the Great Wolves in his town. I liked this assignment more and more.
Southwood was just south of Metro Detroit. It was a three hour or so drive for us so Ridge and I set out early. We got to Southwood before noon.
Southwood was tough looking, it had a small downtown. It reminding me a lot of my own hometown except it was right next to Detroit and the troubles that plague that city had hit Southwood, a working class suburb, just as hard.
Great Wolves MC Southwood charter was set up like most of our clubs. There was a bar that they were trying to make work as a business. But that was far as they’d gotten.
“Sawyer says Southwood MC is out of drugs and whores. But just barely. If they don’t start making legit money soon, they won’t be legit for much longer.” Ridge told me.
“So while I focus on the auto body you’ll be doing security?”
“Yeah, they’ve got a half-assed security operation going. I’m going to see if we can get more businesses on board for them. And tighten up the way they do things.” Ridge was 6’4” and wide as a truck. Only an idiot would mess with him. He was a one-man security firm.
We rolled into Southwood and decided to hit the local diner first. Ridge’s intimidating physique depended heavily on significant portions of pancakes I discovered. The man ate a frightening amount and somehow then defied physics and turned it into iron muscle.
“Thanks, darling.” I saw Ridge wink at the waitress and turn his head to follow her to the coffee pot. She was cute. But the truth was I hadn’t been with a woman since I’d put Jules on the bus. No one looked right, smelled right, or talked right. No one was Jules.
“So they’re expecting us after lunch.” I had texted the Prez of the Great Wolves Southwood MC. We were going to be ruffling feathers. Coming in and taking charge. I hoped he wasn’t a dick. Change is hard, and we were going to change things.
“I hated the Mohawk, but this isn’t any better.” Ridge motioned to the hair I’d grown out. It fell around my shoulders these days.
“You don’t like it shaved, you don’t like it long? What are you, my mother?”
“There are curls that come out of the back of your helmet. It’s embarrassing.” Ridge said as he put a forkful of pancakes in his mouth. Ridge kept his head shaved. It was like a bullet.
We finished our food and drove to the MC. We were told it wasn’t too far off the main street.
Southwood had a downtown. It wasn’t big, but you could tell they were trying, but it had a beaten up look. We passed a shop that was busy, then the next one had boarded up windows with profanity spray painted across it in bold yellow.
A blonde and a brunette, gorgeous from far away, caught my eye. They were headed to a coffee shop that was trying to be hip. Something about the blonde though had me craning my neck. I turned to try to get a better look, but she’d disappeared into the coffee shop before I could really see her.
I was still looking for Jules around every corner. It was fucked up. I’d come in partly to stick it to her Daddy. I supposed imagining seeing her was my love sick bullshit brain making crap up.
I’d never get laid again if I didn’t stop thinking about a woman who I hadn’t heard from since last summer. She’d left this town behind, good for her, but she’d also left me behind, and I hated her a little for it. Even though it was the right thing. I knew it was the right thing.
I was glad Southwood was going to be a big job. I needed a big job to keep my head from wandering into Jules territory. I needed things to distract me from thinking about her skin under my fingers and her soft moans when I was inside her.
Southwood’s problems were fine by me. Anything to keep me away from my own.
Chapter Ten
Jules
Southwood was my hometown, my prison, my fate. I didn’t regret running away from my wedding. I didn’t regret being with Ryder. Even more now. Now that I was committed to doing what Daddy wanted.
Six months ago I’d lied to Ryder. And I’d done it to be sure Daddy never touched him. I did give up my freedom, but it wasn’t for Daddy it was for Ryder. But he could never know.
After Ryder had put me on the bus, the doors closed on St. Joseph but I kept my eyes on Ryder as long as I could. And he on me.
I was headed west. As far as he was concerned.
But Daddy had easily found me. And he’d upped the ante.
My little bag, the one I’d been guarding with my life, had a note, a photo, and another remnant of Ross.
I’d opened on my last trip to the Covert Campground showers, and there it was. In a nice little bundle.
“Get on the bus. Get off at the first stop. If you continue to run Violet will start looking a lot like Ross. And keep your mouth shut about it or it will be worse. Dad.”
Tears came, and I blinked them away.
Shit. He’d been on my trail the entire time. I’d never lost him or gotten away. He knew about Violet?
Ryder had no idea about the threat. The note. And I wasn’t going to tell him. I was getting on a bus and living my dreams out West as far as he was concerned. The idea of Ryder getting killed, his beautiful mother getting hurt, because I ran away, I couldn’t live with it.
So at the first stop of the bus. I got off. And there was Daddy. He’d come to fetch me himself. The urge to run again was strong.
But I’d gone and found people to love. That was a huge mistake. Because it gave Daddy and the Devil’s Hawks people to hurt on my behalf.
“Get on. We’ll talk when we get home.” It was a much different feeling on the back of Daddy’s bike than Ryder's. I felt my heart grow cold with each revolution of his tires.
Home. Southwood, Michigan. I thought I’d gotten away from it. But instead, I’d be living my life here. It was almost unbearable. Except this time I was a little bolder. If I were going to play a part in Daddy’s plans, I would bargain. Just a little.
“David Wexler won’t have you now,” Daddy spit out the words, “your little stunt embarrassed the shit out of him,” I smiled. I didn’t mean to, but I did. David was a cocky bastard, and I didn’t want to be near him.
“Wipe that smile off your face.” I swallowed my glee at embarrassing David and got serious. Daddy was a dangerous man. He’d never hit me, but I didn’t put it past him. The courage I’d had to run was in sparse supp
ly now that I was back under his thumb again.
“You can’t make me marry someone. It’s medieval, and you already saw I’ll bolt.” I already knew I’d do what Daddy said, but I was bluffing and posturing. He’d have to give me a tiny concession.
“And you already heard what I’ll do to your little fling and his mother. If I don’t approve it, you don’t do it.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Since you pissed off my cop friend I had to adapt. I promised you to his dad.”
“Judge Wexler? You have to be fucking kidding. He’s gotta be seventy years old?” And with that, Daddy slapped me across the mouth.
It stung, and it was the line he’d not crossed since I was a kid. He was willing to hurt me too. How much I didn’t know. But enough.
“You made this bed. I set you up the young good looking one. Now you’re going to sleep with the old wrinkly one. Turns out you did me a favor, though. Judge Wexler has more power and influence. And probably a limp dick so you’re welcome.” Daddy was like a jungle cat. He stalked around me. He pounced. He enjoyed toying with me. I was the mouse, and he was batting me around with his claws.
Daddy was behaving as cruel as I knew him to be.
“I have conditions.” That stopped his prowling around our living room.
“Conditions?”
“Yes. You may kill everyone I ever looked at but if I don’t cooperate, even The Judge won’t want me. I guarantee it.”
“I wouldn’t test that little theory of yours.”
“I want to run my own business.”
Daddy rolled his eyes at me.
“I’m serious. I’ll play nice with The Judge. With the club. Whatever. But I want to run my jewelry design business. And you’re going to give me the money to start it.”
“You aren’t really in a position to make demands.”
“And I want it legal, I want to have my own company, and I’ll marry The Judge with a smile on my face.”
“Fine. Do your job for The Hawks and you can design all the bling you want to.”
“I want a lawyer to draw it up too. A real company that’s mine.”
Daddy stepped in close to me and cupped my face in his hands.
“Okay, you can do the business; I’ll let you draw up the papers. You’re a good girl. No more running. You’ll be safe with The Judge and here in Southwood.” And then he pulled me in for a hug.
He smelled like cigarettes. As always. It was the smell of my childhood. Cigarettes, leather, and intimidation. I wanted Daddy’s approval, and I had never got it.
Daddy did love me. In his way. The way he’d loved my mother. As a thing, a possession that could help him and the club. I was an object or a pet to be used how he wanted.
He did want me safe. That was something. And maybe he even wanted me a little bit happy. Maybe not.
In the end, he let me get Julery going because I would be less likely to run if I had something to keep me occupied. Something to keep me distracted.
Something to do while Judge Wexler and Daddy kept me in Southwood so that the Devil’s Hawks and Daddy could break any law he wanted.
I thought about Violet, Ryder, even Ross, who had lost two fingers thanks to me bolting.
I was willing to run to save myself, but I couldn’t live with myself if my running got anyone else hurt.
I would stay put. I would marry Judge Wexler.
I’d never see Ryder again.
But I would have my designs. My business.
It wasn’t enough to warm my heart back up, but at least it would keep beating with something I could call my own.
Even if it wasn’t love.
Chapter Eleven
Ryder
The club set up would work. They had a small bar that pretty much only their MC used. Not like the Great Wolves in other cities that had turned their bars into money makers. This place was cigarette smoke, pool tables, and a club trying to hold together. It was a few blocks away from the space they were using to set up their attempt at an auto body shop.
Maybe Ridge and I really could help them. The President of their probational charter was a young guy, Cruz. There was a lot of shit on his shoulders, and I felt for him. Sometimes I forgot how hard it was in the beginning. When we first tried to transition from outlaws. We felt poor, caged, and we fought.
But we were tired of running and tired of dying. It wasn’t until we started earning money and respect in Grand City that it got a little easier. That took years, and we lost brothers to the process. We also had Sawyer lead us. That was key. There weren’t many Sawyers.
All that would be on Cruz. He had to be a tough son of a bitch to make it work. He also had to command respect. He was caramel skinned and black haired, and I’d guess he was only a few years older than me.
He lead on his bike as Ridge, and I followed him to the garage set up they were trying. I thought the club and the garage ought to be in the same space. But one issue at a time. I’d take that up later. They had a nice sized building, and it looked like a lot of space to grow. I parked my bike while Cruz got us up to speed.
“So I’ve got three good mechanics, Brett, Polk, and Nero.”
“Are they on board with this deal?”
“Yeah, Brett got shot in the chest last year collecting payment on some oxy we were delivering. Nearly bled to death while Nero plugged the hole with his fist. Yeah, these three are very interested in finding cash and fewer sucking chest wounds.”
“Shit. Lucky to be alive.”
“Hell yeah. What these three don’t have is any fucking idea on how to run a damn business. And if I’m busy running the security side of things.”
“That’s why Ridge is here. To help you like I’m helping your mechanics.”
“How many places you patrolling right now?” Ridge asked.
“We have six,” Cruz said.
“We’re going to double it. Maybe triple while we’re here.”
“That would be good for cash flow,” Cruz said.
“On that, GW Grand City MC has investment for you.” I handed him ten grand in an envelope.
“Shit man.” Cruz looked at the envelope.
“We took it to the table,” Ridge said.
“It was unanimous. Use it how you want but if I were you, I’d use some to make sure your guys have money for their old ladies and kids.”
“Yeah, this will go a long way. Thank you. From my table to yours.”
“Okay, I’ll head to the garage, you two can get to work on security.” I didn’t need Cruz hanging around. I needed him to be the Prez, and I needed to see if this Bret, Polk, and Nero had what it took to get a business off the ground.
“See you later brother, let’s see what businesses need protecting around here,” Ridge said, and the two of them drove off.
I headed in to see what I had to work with. I walked into a small reception area with a giant receptionist. The hairy beast at the desk had a patch that let me know he was Polk.
“We’re not open yet,” Polk said to me.
“Yeah you are,” I replied. He looked up to see my leather and patch.
“Ah, you. I didn’t know today was the day. I’m trying to fucking set up the God damn computer you sent.”
“It is the day. And it’s easy. Why don’t you get the rest of the crew out here?”
“Easy. Ugh.” Polk gave a hard click to the mouse and then yelled. “Nero. Bret! Corporate’s here.”
“Corporate?” I’d never been called that before. I hoped this guy was a better mechanic than he was a receptionist.
Nero shuffled in first. He wore a mechanic’s jumper and put out a hand. I remembered what Cruz had told me. Nero was the kind of brother who would use his fist to stop the bleeding. That was a good brother to have around. He was almost as big as Polk the ill-tempered receptionist. His head was covered with a bandana, and his arms were covered in tats. The guy seemed more welcoming than Polk though. He extended an arm, and we shook.
“We got six cars in here right now. And one bike.”
“Good start. And I see your lovely receptionist is a snap with the booking computer.” Polk growled. I knew the type. It wouldn’t be long, and he’d have it figured out. I hoped.
Nero led me back, and I was impressed. The stations were laid out in a way that made sense. It was a good sign. I still hadn’t met Bret.
A pair of legs under a 1987 Impala let me know that Bret was likely under there.
“Bret’s not a fan of talking to people. Meeting people. Well, people in general.”
“I don’t really give a shit. I’m here to make sure you make money.”
“Hear that Bret. Money.” Nero kicked Bret’s work boot.
Slowly Bret rolled out from under the Impala I realized this gunshot-survivor-crackerjack-mechanic and all around surly Great Wolf mechanic was, in fact, a woman. A tiny woman with a gigantic attitude. She looked up at me. Her face was smudged with grease, and her hair dyed blue. She had a sneer for me. Though I didn’t take it personally. She probably had a sneer for everybody.
“Thelma-and-Louise-Brad-Pitt here is going to set up our garage? Let me see your nails.” Brad Pitt? Whatever. I showed her my hand. I was trying to be nice. To a point.
I presented them to her with a raised eyebrow, and she grabbed my fingers and turned my hands around to look.
“Calluses good. But too damn clean,” Bret said.
“I use a little thing called soap. That can be lesson one of your grease musketeer training.”
Bret gave me another sneer. She was tiny but tough and totally in charge of Nero and Polk. I’m sure there was a story there, but I didn’t have time for it. I had a garage to set up if this little MC was going to survive.
