Andi and Niro

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "You, ah, you look the same as always," she said, voice still guarded as she reluctantly swiveled on the table, sliding her feet to rest on the other bench, making her face me. "You never could turn down a fight," she added, going for levity, even offering me a smile. But it didn't meet her eyes.

  "Heard a rumor you were back in town." Again, there was the accusation in my voice. She heard it too. Her shoulder slumped forward, pulling together a bit, making her smaller.

  "I, ah, yeah. I just got back two days ago. My parents didn't tell anyone."

  "And you forgot everyone's numbers."

  "No. Ah, I just... I wanted a couple days to, you know, decompress. Things have been... it doesn't matter. How have you been?" she asked, giving me that phony smile again. It wobbled a bit this time.

  That was a knife to the gut, but I deserved it. I would probably keep deserving it.

  "Getting into fights. Running guns. The usual."

  "Yeah. You got your patch. That's great. I know how much you always wanted this."

  "It's where I always belonged."

  "Niro, are you... are you alright?" she asked, brows knitting, worry marking her voice.

  Was I alright?

  Fuck, I didn't even know.

  I was just how I was. I didn't stop to take time to analyze it anymore.

  "Status quo," I said, shrugging, itching for the drink I'd left inside, needing the burn, anything other than the bitter taste of my words on my tongue.

  "Oh, right. Well, that's good, right? Status quo. I've been meaning to get in touch," she said, gaze darting away. Was that shame? Insincerity? I didn't know. And I really wanted it not to matter.

  "You've always known where to find me," I said, shrugging, not giving her what she was looking for, not accepting the blame for the falling out as well. Even if a large part of it had been my orchestrating.

  And because a part of me didn't want to see the impact of my words, I turned, I made my way back toward the clubhouse, but turned to go around the side of it instead of inside.

  I knew what I would find inside.

  Hope standing there with those knowing eyes, with the prying questions.

  I was better off heading out front, helping Brooks with his guards shift since there was no way I could enjoy the party now. Brooks was one of the only newer generation members who wasn't legacy in any way, just a guy with a rough past and an urge to prove himself. He was tall and fit with dark skin and a bald head. Lately, he'd been working on growing his beard in, taking a ribbing from the rest of the guys because it refused to grow in fully like he wanted it to.

  "Niro, wait," Andi's voice called. She'd always been unexpectedly quick and quiet, always able to sneak up on you when she wanted to.

  Before I even knew she was following, her hand was closing around my arm, trying to pull me to a stop in the middle of the front lawn.

  "Who the fuck-—?" Brooks said, voice a low hiss, drawing my attention over toward the gates where a crew of leather biker cut-wearing men and one solitary woman stood, looking like they were seeking entrance to a bar or club.

  "Go inside and get Fallon," I demanded, barely glancing at Andi.

  "What's the matt—" she started.

  "Go inside and get Fallon. Now," I snapped, yanking my arm out of hers and moving forward, already reaching for my gun.

  "Hey, look. It's our favorite cage fighter!" the woman, their leader, their president, said, giving me a saucy smile.

  "Danny, you know you're not fucking welcome here," Fallon's voice said from behind me, making long-legged progress toward us.

  "What? We heard there was a biker party in town. We're bikers. We like to party," she said, giving Fallon a smirk.

  Fallon ignored that, looking over at Brooks. "You know what I need you to do," he said. And Brooks did, so he rushed off.

  He was going inside to gather the patched members, get them to put the calls out to the OG members, getting the rest of the partygoers into the basement where he could lock them up in case this went bad fast.

  See, Fallon—and the younger members of this club—were inheriting a brand-new mess in Navesink Bank.

  They went by the name of the East Coast Vultures MC.

  They were lead by a woman around our age, someone who had orchestrated a plan that had her stealing half of our business and suppliers away from us before we even knew they were in town, that they even existed at all.

  And the problem was, we had no fucking idea what to expect from them, who they even were. Aside from bikers.

  They had no online presence. None of the members even had social media. And everyone but Danny went by road names. We had the best of the best on the job, but no one could get a roster of names for the patched members, their rap sheets, anything at all.

  And they liked to fuck with us without outwardly getting hostile, or declaring war of any sort.

  They didn't throw hands or draw guns.

  But they did shit.

  Like showing up at the gates.

  Like poking at the hot-tempered future president of our MC.

  I couldn't tell if Fallon was annoyed with or amused by them. By Danny in particular.

  What can I say? It wasn't every day you ran across a female MC president. Hell, I wasn't sure I'd ever heard of it. Aside from one MC I'd heard rumors of. But that was an all-female MC. This was a single woman in charge of a bunch of rough-and-tumble men, many of them older than her.

  It also had to be said that Danny was a fucking knockout. Tall, long-legged, stacked. She was hot as shit with her long, straight blonde hair, pretty face, and ice-blue eyes. And she carried herself like it too.

  She had a sort of cocky self-assurance you didn't find in people that often. But, I guess, if you were the president of an MC, you earned that arrogance.

  Hell, Fallon was similar as well.

  Unlike Fallon, though, Danny didn't seem to have a quick temper. She came off to me as someone who never rushed into anything, who took her time, learned her angle, then struck. Cunning and ruthless, those were words I would use to describe her.

  "Maybe if you all hadn't stolen from us," Fallon said, watching Danny.

  "You're still sore about that?" she asked, as if it wasn't an ongoing thing now that many of our former contacts and clients were going to her and her club instead.

  "Well, that. And the whole kidnapping my fucking father thing," Fallon shot back, temper sparking.

  "Hey, we didn't kidnap anyone," Danny reasoned, that infuriatingly arrogant smile still tugging at her lips.

  "Right," Fallon said, tone deceptively calm. "But I'm not sure it's a boss move to admit you're too chickenshit to get your hands dirty, so you hire jobs out."

  It was the first time I'd ever seen anything other than a sort of detached amusement cross Danny's face. I might not have been like Hope, but I damn sure knew anger when I saw it flicker across a woman's eyes.

  But before she could open her mouth to shoot some no doubt scathing jab in Fallon's general direction, the sound of bikes coming in from every direction made everyone straighten, stiffen. A few of Danny's men's hands went to slide into their waistbands, an action cut short when Danny raised a hand, stopping them even as eight of our biker brothers blocked them in on both sides, already climbing off.

  Unlike the Vultures, the Henchmen reached for their guns. This was their turf to protect, after all.

  Our president, vice, and road captain all lived further on the outskirts of town, meaning actual leadership was falling on Fallon. But it was the OG's who stepped threatening toward the rival bikers.

  In the end, it was my father who stepped up to Danny.

  I was raised by the man. I knew there was some soft under all that hard. But I still found the bastard intimidating as fuck. I imagined Danny felt the same way, even if she wasn't showing any outward signs as her chin raised stubbornly.

  "You know you don't belong here. Fuck off, babe," he said, tone dry, but there was some still underneath it, a silent thre
at hanging in the air. Don't make me make you leave.

  "Funny," Danny said, lips pursing slightly, refusing to take a step back even as my father got in her personal space. "I heard this rumor about how these Henchmen guys are all morally upstanding when it comes to not putting their hands on women."

  "Normal women, yeah," my father said, nodding. "Stupid chicks who think they can take what is ours, yeah, we're a little less moral about that shit."

  "Stupid," Danny repeated, the word clearly bitter on her tongue. That anger I saw flicker burst into a flame. Because, let's face it, a woman didn't get her position being stupid. Or weak. Or cowardly. If I had to place money on the scariest biker in her club, I'd put my money on her every time.

  But the anger said there was insecurity there. She didn't like being challenged. She didn't want to be seen as weaker in front of her men.

  That was good to know. We could work with that if we needed to in the future.

  "Danny, get your ass out of here before my father gets here," Fallon demanded, tone still unusually casual. "He will be a lot less friendly than we are being."

  "This is friendly," Danny said, pressing a finger into my father's chest, pushing him back an inch. "You should consider putting your dogs on a leash, little future president," she said, gaze holding my father's for a long moment before looking over at Fallon. "You know what happens when you let rabid ones out of the yard, don't you?" she asked, tone icy.

  "Careful, Danny," Fallon warned, voice just as cold. "That sounds a fuckuva lot like a threat from where I'm standing." And everyone gathered around knew we were just looking for a legitimate reason to go to war with them.

  "A threat? Sounded more like words of advice to me," Danny said, holding Fallon's gaze for another minute. "Seems like you might need some if you are getting these guys to answer to someone half their age," she said, looking over at the OGs, then turning on her heel, moving through her men. They waited until she was across the street before they followed.

  "Well, that was fun," my father decided, shooting me a smirk. "You little fuckers get the good liquor or the cheap shit?" he asked, clamping a hand on my shoulder as he moved past, making his way into the clubhouse.

  "Your bike," Repo, one of the original four members of their generation, called to my father.

  "What's the point of having kids if they don't do your chores for you?" my father called back as I tucked away my gun, moving through the gates to get his bike.

  "I'll see if I can get your father or uncle," Repo said to Fallon, "let them know it's not an emergency anymore."

  "Yeah sounds good. We should probably escort the non-members and the girls out of here," Fallon added. "I don't think they're coming back. Danny just likes to flex that she can show up at any time. But better to get them out, so the Vultures don't start looking into their connections here."

  Because if they found someone who was at the clubhouse who didn't have any real loyalty to us, they might be able to simply charm some information out of them.

  Granted, they'd had a mole once upon a time before he was taken care of. But it had been a while now. Things had changed. Security measures had switched up. Our general plans as a club had changed as well.

  We'd busted our asses finding and charming new importers, getting them to trust us, to agree to work with us. We didn't need the fucking Vultures finding that out and stealing them out from under us as well.

  Within the next ten minutes, the rest of the OGs were back, Reign barking out some orders even though we were already carrying them out.

  "You," Reign said, stopping to look at me. "You're not doing anything. Take the girls home."

  "Which girls?" I asked, looking around, trying to see who was left. I'd seen Brooks and Finn take off with two of the clubwhores.

  "Gracie, Hope, and..."

  And Andi.

  Shit.

  Of course.

  "Hope can handle herself," Hope broke in, giving Reign an eye roll. "I have never needed a babysitter. And Gracie's dad drove her home already."

  Oh, I was going to kill Hope.

  Because I knew her well enough to know she was doing this shit on purpose.

  I tried to catch her eye, but she kept her gaze on Reign, avoiding eye-contact with me.

  She was making me take Andi home.

  Because, like her father, she liked to butt her nose where it didn't belong.

  "Fine. But text your father when you get home," Reign demanded. "Niro, bring Andi back to her parents'."

  And there it was.

  "Right," I agreed, exhaling.

  I tried to catch up to Hope, but she ducked out the front door just as Andi reemerged from the kitchen.

  I tried not to notice her wide, worried eyes, the way her gaze sought mine even after I'd been a dick to her. I knew what she was looking for. A shoulder to lean on. Calm reassurances. All the shit I used to be able to offer to her.

  I couldn't afford any of that anymore.

  There wasn't enough left of me to loan parts out anymore.

  "I'm taking you home," I told her, jerking my head toward the door, not waiting for her, just moving forward without her.

  "Ah, Niro," she called, rushing up behind me.

  "What?"

  "I, um, I'm in a dress," she said as I made it to the side of my bike, and stealing an extra helmet off one of the others parked beside it.

  "I won't look."

  I wasn't going to say the urge to look was gone, but there was still that small part of me that I'd never been able to kill off that wanted her.

  But I was never going to have her.

  "Right. I mean, of course not. It's just that..."

  "It's what?" I asked, tone sharper than I intended, but I needed to get this over with. I needed to get her on the bike and back at her folks' home as soon as possible because if I didn't, I would start thinking about it too much, would start to let my mind wander to how she would be scooted up against me on the bike with her bare thighs on either side of me, her chest pressed to my back, her arms around me.

  All the shit I had no business thinking about.

  "I don't like the bikes, Niro. Remember?" she asked, sounding small and sad at the idea that I had forgotten.

  I hadn't, not completely.

  Her objection to the bike, though, was an old childhood thing. I always figured she would grow out of it eventually.

  Apparently, I was wrong.

  "I'll go slow," I said, shrugging, still not looking at her.

  "Um..."

  "You're going to need to trust me," I told her.

  "I always..." she started, then trailed off.

  But I knew what she was trying to stop herself from saying.

  She always had.

  But she wasn't sure anymore.

  Which was good.

  That was what I wanted.

  "The sooner you get on the bike, the sooner this will be over." And you can get away from me, I added silently, climbing on the bike, shoving the helmet on my head.

  I guess my words had some sway because she grabbed the spare helmet, put it on, then moved over to the side of the bike, doing a weird move to get on which I imagined was to save her from flashing anyone.

  "You need to move up," I told her, noticing the way she was holding herself back, her body barely touching me.

  "Right," she mumbled, letting out a deep breath and sliding forward, her body pressing into mine. Knees, thighs, stomach, chest.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  I needed to be thinking of something else. Anything else.

  "Arms," I told her through gritted teeth, feeling her tentative hands going around my chest, her fingers grabbing each of her wrists instead of holding onto me.

  I shouldn't have been annoyed by that, but there it was regardless.

  But before I could overthink shit any further, I turned over the bike and pulled out, finding myself thankful that Andi's family lived close-by.

  Still, my jaw was clenched so ha
rd it was painful by the time I pulled up in front of that old, familiar Victorian. I couldn't count how many days of my life I'd spent in that house, in the yard.

  I'd helped Andi change out the duck pond and rescue any stray frogs in the lawn before her father cut it, had dinner at her kitchen table, nearly gotten my finger bitten off by one of the macaws, curled up with Andi in her bed to watch movies, trying like fuck not to have any sort of physical reaction to her nearness.

  No.

  I needed to stop thinking of that shit.

  It wouldn't lead anywhere good.

  It wasn't until I cut the engine that I realized maybe I hadn't gone slow enough, been careful enough, been trustworthy enough.

  Because Andi's small frame was tumbling behind me even as she pulled her arms from around me.

  Trembling.

  The urge to grab her, pull her to my chest, tell her I was sorry, that I would never make her do that again, was stronger than it should have been after all these years, all this work I'd done to shake that softness I'd felt toward her.

  I couldn't go back now, at the first test.

  Not if I was going to survive her being back in town.

  "You'll be fine," I told her instead, voice low, feelingless. It wasn't the reassurance she wanted, the one she associated with me.

  And seeming to realize she couldn't get that anymore, at least from me, that she never would again, her whole body stiffened before she jumped suddenly off the bike, rushing up the front path without even saying a word.

  She didn't even take off the helmet.

  She damn sure didn't turn to look back at me.

  That was what I wanted.

  Of course it was.

  Yet there was no denying the cracking sensation in my chest, right there where the minuscule little thing I dared to call a heart still resided.

  Chapter Six

  Andi

  My dad was right.

  He'd changed.

  I didn't even recognize him anymore.

  At a soul level.

  Something had cracked there for him. And that had also managed to fracture whatever it was that had bound us together for most of our lives.

  The pain of that was shockingly intense, enough to steal away my breath whenever the thought crossed my mind.