Keep It Classy (The Bear Bottom Guardians MC Book 7)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “I’ll have a grilled chicken salad,” I said.

  “Sure,” she paused. “What kind of dressing?”

  I shook my head. “No dressing.”

  She frowned. “You don’t want any dressing?”

  I nodded once.

  “Okay,” she drawled. “And you?”

  Jubilee ordered her usual heart attack meal of a burger and pancakes.

  I could do nothing but shake my head.

  If I’d eat those, I’d gain ten pounds.

  Hell, I might gain two just by smelling it.

  “I’ll get those orders right in,” the waitress smiled. “What about drinks?”

  I pointed at the water. “This is fine. Thank you.”

  When I looked up from my water, it was to find Castiel studying me like a bug.

  I looked away and hoped that he wouldn’t ask about my eating habits.

  Hell, he’d already insinuated that I was fat.

  I didn’t want to give him more ammunition than he already had against me.

  Jubilee and Castiel spoke in quiet tones while I studied the large hands of the man I was trying not to find attractive but did anyway.

  I had no clue how long I’d been doing it…ten minutes, maybe…when our food finally came out.

  The salad was placed in front of me, and I immediately winced at the white dressing that was saturating almost every part of it.

  Shit.

  “Um,” I hesitated. “This has dressing on it. I ordered it with no dressing.”

  The woman looked down at the salad and frowned.

  “Oh, well shoot,” she said. “Let me take that back and I’ll get you another one ordered.”

  I just shook my head, glancing at my watch.

  “I don’t have time to wait for another one,” I sighed. “Scooch out, best friend. I have to go.”

  If I left now, I’d be able to grab a salad from Nanny Goats before I had to be at my meeting.

  Castiel still didn’t move his foot, causing me to bend into a pretzel-like configuration to get out of the seat. Only after I had my foot almost over the table did he move it.

  I caught the grimace of pain that was on his face as he did, and I almost had a fleeting thought to ask him if he was all right.

  But I didn’t.

  What would be the point?

  I didn’t want him to think that I cared.

  Once both of my feet were once again firmly planted on the ground, I scooted the rest of the way out of the crappy wooden bench-like seat and stood up.

  “Wish me luck,” I said to Jubilee.

  Jubilee grinned. “Good luck. I’ll see you at work later this evening?”

  I thought about that for a few long seconds.

  “I’ll probably be in late, late. More like six-ish. I have to finish up some work with the website before I come help you,” I explained.

  Jubilee nodded in understanding.

  She was one of four people that knew what I did, and three of those people were people that I worked with on this other job.

  Another job that allowed me to get paid quite a bit for barely anything.

  “I’ll be leaving right around then,” she said. “If we don’t see each other, I’ll see you tomorrow at the Donut Palace.”

  I grinned and shook my head, smiling as I did.

  “Be good.” I patted her shoulder, then I was gone.

  But before I left all the way out of the building, I made sure to stop and look over my shoulder at the table I’d just been at.

  What I didn’t find was anybody watching me.

  Not one single face was turned toward me.

  ***

  There was only one person I wanted to talk to as I left my meeting. A meeting from hell that proceeded a lunch from hell—even if I didn’t get to eat said lunch.

  “You got pulled over eating a burrito?” my mother laughed. “I thought you couldn’t handle bread?”

  “I found a new carb balance tortilla that’s like five grams of carbs,” I told her. “And it only had lettuce and grilled chicken on it. So not fattening at all. Though, granted, I was only able to eat a quarter of it. I’m not sure why I bothered making one that big.”

  “Because you don’t pay attention.” She snickered. “At least we’ll be able to share a plate of food at Thanksgiving in two weeks.”

  That was very true.

  I’d convinced my mother to go through with the gastric bypass just a little over three weeks ago, and already she was down over seventy pounds.

  I was so proud of her I could burst.

  “Are you sure you want to come down here for Thanksgiving?” I asked then. “I can come home.”

  I could practically hear my mother’s refusal before she’d even voiced it.

  “No, baby.” She sighed. “We need a break from the hustle and bustle. Daddy wants to go to the lake and just chill. He’s excited about fishing, too. We’re going to bring the camper.”

  The camper wasn’t actually a camper. It was a motor home like the one I was currently living in, only larger.

  My current home away from home was their hand-me-down, two-year-old motor coach that my father’s sponsors had given him to use during the 2016 season. My brother had gotten their 2017, and I was sure I’d be getting their 2018 when they were finished with it.

  Not that I really needed it seeing as I liked the one I had.

  Though, it was way more than I would ever need.

  It was big enough for a family of nine, and currently the envy of the RV park.

  Everyone and their brother would make their way around the lake just to glimpse the beast.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll go talk to the park specialists and make sure that they don’t mind both RVs taking up their prime camping spot. I’ll get back with you tonight, okay?”

  My mother hummed in agreement. “Sounds good, baby. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mama.” I hung up, then tossed the phone to the bed.

  My eyes lit on my laptop, and I sighed.

  I really needed to get some work done.

  Yesterday.

  “Well, let’s get started,” I said, pulling up the first porn video.

  “Ohhhh, yes. Right there. Do you like my clit?” I typed.

  Chapter 2

  Mom, I’m sorry about all the dumb stuff I did when I was younger. If it helps, you only know about half of it.

  -Text from Castiel to his mother

  Castiel

  I watched her go with a small smile on my face, unaware that it was there.

  “Why do you torture her so?” Jubilee asked, breaking me out of my study of Turner’s ass.

  I turned my gaze to Jubilee and shrugged. “It’s just so easy to do. I like the way the fire lights up her eyes.”

  Jubilee shook her head.

  “Well,” she said. “I think you might’ve actually caused her to never speak to you again.”

  I frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you insulted her,” she answered.

  I frowned. “Um, no I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.” She nodded her head. “You said ‘tight fit.’”

  I immediately started to go back through the words that I’d said about five minutes before and frowned.

  “I meant ‘tight fit’ because my legs being extended out made her scoot closer to the wall. I was going to move them. I have a stab wound in my leg,” I immediately began to explain, trying not to sound defensive.

  “Why do you have a stab wound in your leg?” she asked curiously.

  I sighed, stomach knotting not at the wound’s cause, but at the fear that I’d actually offended someone in some way—especially Turner.

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I gave a shit, but there was something about that woman that set my teeth on edge.

  “Some asshole thought it’d be easier to try to stab me than allow me to take him in for his warrants.” I shrugged. “Why would me saying that bother her so badly?�
��

  Turner wasn’t a fat person. She was a little chunky—in an adorable, sexy, full-figured woman kind of way—but she wasn’t fat by any means.

  In fact, her figure was what had drawn my attention to her in the first place.

  I’d dated women of all sizes, but I always found myself gravitating to the ones that had just a little more meat on their bones than others.

  Though, with how Turner ate, I highly doubted that she’d be able to maintain her curves.

  “Turner is very self-conscious,” Jubilee admitted, jolting me out of my thoughts. “When she was younger, she was quite heavy. She’s tried hard over the years to get the extra pounds off, but she still has issues. Not to mention she’s sensitive due to the way she was treated by a few boys when she was growing up.”

  And she thought that I’d been talking about her weight when I’d been talking about how much room I’d given her with my legs.

  How awesome of me.

  “Shit,” I muttered, scrubbing my hands over my face. “Where does she live? I’ll go talk to her.”

  Jubilee smiled. “She used to live near me. But when all that went down with my attic friend, she moved at the same time that I did.”

  Jubilee’s ‘attic friend’ was actually a stalker that had been living in her attic. For months, her stalker had used a collapsible ladder to get in and out of the attic, making it nearly impossible for Jubilee to realize it was even going on.

  The man had been good at hiding his whereabouts, as well as his movements. If it hadn’t been for her father finding the collapsible ladder that he used to reach the attic of her house underneath the deck they’d torn down, as well as the pole he used to attach and then un-attach the ladder, they might not have ever known that he was there.

  “Well, where did she move to?” I questioned.

  “Last I heard, she was glamping at the lake,” Jubilee interrupted my thoughts.

  “Which lake?” I asked. “And what the hell is glamping?”

  “Glamping is glamour camping. And she’s in her daddy’s RV on Lake Pyrtle.” She paused. “You’ll have to go to the big campground, though. The RV won’t fit at their normal sites.”

  I frowned. “How big is this camper?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Big.”

  ***

  I found out just how big two hours later when my shift ended, and I arrived at the lake.

  I was standing in front of what had to be the biggest, most beautiful camper I’d ever seen.

  And there was no way in hell any normal chick could afford something like it.

  She had to be rich off her ass…or her daddy was.

  Either way, I already kind of hated her.

  My ex-wife was a rich girl, and ever since then, I’d had an aversion to that lifestyle.

  They just thought they were better than the rest of the world, and honestly, it was kind of disappointing that Turner turned out to be one of them.

  I thought she was different.

  But I knocked on her door anyway.

  I may not feel the same way I did before I’d arrived at her humble abode, but I did owe her an apology.

  I didn’t want her thinking that I meant those words in a derogatory way.

  She opened the door and stared at me with a blank expression on her face.

  “When I said ‘tight fit’ earlier, I didn’t want you to think I was saying it to you to make fun of you,” I said. “I was curious if you needed me to move my leg or not,” I explained.

  Turner seemed to deflate.

  “Okay.”

  So that was exactly what she had thought.

  Good God, did this woman not see herself?

  Did she not know that she was beautiful?

  Jesus Christ, just seeing her here, dressed so casually in a pair of black yoga pants and a large t-shirt…yeah, that did it for me.

  My ex-wife, Cher, hadn’t even left the confines of our bedroom before she was dressed so immaculately that nobody would dare say that she was slacking.

  Even when we weren’t leaving the house, she’d be wearing something that resembled a church outfit or fine dining wear to anybody else.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate you coming over here to clarify your words.” She paused. “And I did take them personally.”

  I felt like I’d been stabbed in the gut.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I never meant for that to happen.”

  She smiled, then shrugged her shoulder like she hadn’t just admitted that she thought I’d called her fat. Just like that, she let it go.

  Cher would’ve held a grudge to end all grudges.

  “But this doesn’t make us friends,” she added in, almost as an afterthought.

  I snorted. “No, it doesn’t.”

  I glanced around to add emphasis. “We’re definitely from two different classes of people.”

  My eyes stopped on her computer screen as I glanced around the interior of the camper, and I frowned at what I saw.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Turner asked, sounding confused.

  “It just means that we don’t mesh.” I shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

  I gestured toward her computer screen where a woman with her t-shirt in her hands, barely exposing her breasts, stood. Her eyes were pouty, and she looked like she’d been interrupted having sex.

  What the hell was the woman doing with porn on her screen?

  Turner looked over her shoulder. “Oh, that’s my job.”

  Instead of asking any more about her job—or her for that matter—I decided to leave.

  “Anyway, have a good one.”

  Then I was gone, closing the door not just on her, but also her overly large, beautiful, I’m never going to get something like that trailer, and I didn’t look back.

  Chapter 3

  If it doesn’t bring you income, inspiration, happiness or orgasms, leave it in 2018.

  -Note to self

  Castiel

  “What do you mean you’re letting some guy use my office?” I asked, sounding just as pissed off as I felt.

  The Chief, Waldrop, shook his head.

  “You don’t use it,” he said. “And it’s only for a couple of weeks while he investigates this area. Once he’s done, you can have your office back.”

  That was true.

  “I store my uniform shirts in there, as well as my lunch,” I told him.

  “And he’s not going to stop you from coming in there and he won’t eat your lunch,” he said. “Hell, he’s not even going to use your desk. He brought a folding table and a computer chair with him. Your office is the biggest besides mine.”

  I sighed. “Fine. What case is he working on?”

  “The Firewall Case,” he said, instantly making my gut clench.

  The Firewall Case was one of the ones I’d started to investigate and had hit a dead end on. It’d been a murder of a young woman that’d been about twenty-three years old. She was a feisty young woman that decided that her best way to make money was to sell her body on the internet.

  What started out as a way to make quick cash by a young woman had turned into her own nightmare. Four months after she’d started to undress for money on a porn site, she started getting threatening letters through her computer.

  After the fourth instance, she’d taken her computer and her worry to me.

  However, as I’d started to look into it, the fucking shit had disappeared as if it’d never been there in the first place.

  I’d gotten only a glimpse of it, then nothing.

  The next day, the girl had been dead, and I had zero evidence to go on.

  Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, there were similar cases to the girl’s, and I’d been able to turn in what little information I had to help with just a small piece of the puzzle that was forming.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mumbled. “FBI?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “He’ll be here around noon. He as
ked to hear your findings before you left for the day.”

  I thought about what I had to do the rest of the day and nodded once.

  “I have some paperwork to do that I usually do in the cruiser,” I said. “I can hang out here until then.”

  Chief Waldrop nodded once. “Sounds good. Thank you for cooperating.”

  I grinned. “Chief, did you expect me not to?”

  He flipped me off. “Go fuck yourself.”

  ***

  Three hours later, I had a man standing in my office that I never would’ve pegged as an FBI agent…let alone a computer/cyber crimes specialist.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand to the man. “My name is Castiel Hendrix.”

  “FBI Special Agent Easton McKennick.” He took my hand and shook it once before letting it go. “Nice to meet you, too. I hope I’m not intruding.”

  Polite as well as very well dressed.

  Noted.

  “No, you’re not.” I shook my head. “I very rarely have time to use this office, which is why the chief suggested you take over mine. I’m here really early, and really late, for about an hour or two a day, if that. Most of my work is done out of the cruiser, and at my home. So don’t worry about intruding at all.”

  Easton nodded once.

  His hair, which was perfectly styled, moved with him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Is there a particular part of the office you’d like me to occupy? I’ll try my best to stay out of your way.”

  I gestured to the large space in the corner of the room that was closest to the door but still allotted him enough space to set up a table and a computer chair with plenty of room to spare.

  “That has the most space,” I indicated to the spot. “But honestly, if you want to move my desk over, I’m more than happy to do that. It’s a big office.”

  The special agent was already shaking his head in the negative.

  “No, that’s not necessary,” he said. “Tell me about this case that you worked while I set my computer up?”

  So I did, telling him about each and every detail that I could remember.

  By the time I was finished, the table was set up, his computer was humming on top of it, and he was staring at me as if he’d seen an apparition.