Bounty

by Aubrey St. Clair

  13

  Evelyn

  What is it about Sebastian and windows?

  His door is open, so I poke my head in to find him standing in front of his desk again, staring out across the city. Catherine told me to come right up after I had filled out all of the new hire paperwork. I’m still not sure whether taking this job was a good idea, even after yesterday. Especially after yesterday. Can we really ignore all of that and move on to matters that are strictly business?

  “Everything all set?”

  I can see him watching me through the reflection in the window, but I can’t read his gaze at all. He may as well be looking at one of his motorcycle buddies instead of a girl he just made come all over her bed last night.

  “Yes. Catherine told me to come right up.”

  “Have a seat.” Sebastian turns and nods toward the chair in front of his desk as he settles down into the one behind it. He’s my boss now, so this time, I don’t balk at the order. Instead, I concentrate on ignoring how his broad chest fills out the dress shirt he’s wearing, or how I know how many tattoos his muscled body is covered in under that tight cotton. Just like last night, he’s finding it hard to look at me. Instead, he’s staring past me at the door, as if he’s expecting someone to come barging through it at any moment.

  He’s got his Bash armor up. He’s not being as gruff as when he wears his leather, though, so perhaps this is a different form of armor. His Sebastian armor. Just like the Bash armor, it’s easier to see when you know he’s wearing it. But probably just as hard to penetrate.

  “You worked for Edward Stonewall, so I know you’re intelligent and can get up to speed quickly. He’s not known for his patience. So I’m just going to dive right in and explain what we’re up against here.” When he finally does look at me, I can see what I’m up against. There are no chinks in this armor. Sebastian is all business. That’s fine, though. That’s the way I wanted it, right? No more sleeping with the boss. Move on. Do this job long enough to get something usable on my résumé, and then find something else. Preferably working for an older, overweight, less maniacal boss that isn’t running around hiding secret double lives or trying to ruin my life.

  For the next hour, Sebastian gives me a brief history of Piston and their important clients leading up to their IPO less than a year ago. Since then, the pressure has been on to continue to perform. He’s not that happy with it, and flat-out says that he regrets letting Hans talk him into going public. It’s clear, though, that Sebastian isn’t a man who dwells on his problems or lives with regret. He’s a man of action, and so he’s making the best of it.

  The IPO has made him a very rich man, but I haven’t had the slightest inclination that he cares at all about the money. As he’s mentioned repeatedly, he’d give up the company in a heartbeat, if he had to—there’d be no contest between this and his life as an MC prez. Those people are his family, and insomuch as I’ve ascertained, his heart. Such a contrast from Edward, where the money is the only thing that matters. Not for how much more it can buy him, he already has everything he wants or needs, but more as a way of keeping score. Edward’s attitude is whoever has the most money when he dies, wins.

  With Sebastian, he’s more concerned with keeping away any undue scrutiny on the secret org structure that makes up Piston. The best way to do that is to keep making their numbers, and that wasn’t supposed to be a problem. However, a key shipment of custom parts from Germany went missing over the weekend, and now one of their biggest deals of the quarter is in serious jeopardy.

  “Do you guys have any idea what happened to the parts? What did the shipping company say? They must have some sort of tracking on them…”

  A flicker of a frown crosses Sebastian’s face, and he purses his lips. It’s a moment before he speaks. “They didn’t just get lost in the mail,” he finally says. “They were stolen. It was a heist of some kind. The police are investigating, but as far as I know, they don’t have too many leads.”

  “Oh, wow. Do you think it was a competitor? Someone trying to sabotage the deal, or something?”

  “You watch too many movies,” he snorts. “Competitors have a lot more effective, and legal, ways to fuck each other over.”

  “Oh. So it was just bad luck then, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Exceptionally bad. But there’s not a lot you can do to help with that directly. Hell, I don’t know that there’s anything left that any of us can do. But while our focus is on that, there’s other shit on my plate that is piling up, and I need someone to take care of that. Even before this shit-storm, stuff was falling through the cracks. It’s even worse now. So, I need you to plug the gaps and stuff the leaks.”

  “Stop the leaking flow of shit, check.” I nod, trying to look as serious as possible.

  That gets Sebastian’s attention, and his eyes snap to mine with a curious twinkle. “Exactly. I guess it’s obvious that I’m lacking a professional filter, where four-letter words are concerned. I try to contain myself around most people. You already know I have a… darker side.”

  “I can handle it,” I say with a shrug. I can’t imagine Edward using this kind of language in the office, but Sebastian is no Edward. That’s a good thing.

  After we figure out a plan, Sebastian shows me to an adjoining office where there is already a computer set up for me. I get access to his Email, Calendar and his phone gets routed through my office. It doesn’t take long to realize why so much is falling through the cracks. There’s a complete lack of organization to everything, which at least gives me an obvious place to start.

  I’m waist deep in emails from two months ago when a thump on my table drags my attention away from the computer. There’s a steaming cup of coffee on my desk, and a strong hand still wrapped around the cardboard koozie.

  “I thought it would be my job to bring you coffee.”

  “I didn’t hire you to get me drinks. But I did notice that my inbox was shrinking, and you haven’t left your desk since this morning.”

  “What do you mean? What time is it? Oh, crap.” It’s half past one, and I didn’t even notice. No wonder my stomach is growling.

  “There’s a café on the second floor, by the way. Maybe I’ll give you a tour tomorrow at lunch.”

  “Uh, sure. Okay. Thanks.”

  After things being all business this morning, I’m both surprised and wary about the invitation. I pull out the sandwich I brought for today and get back to work. Tomorrow’s lunch will be tomorrow’s problem.

  Even though I worked fairly late last night, I make sure to get in extra early this morning. I peek into Sebastian’s door as I walk by and I’m satisfied to see that he isn’t even in yet. Who knows what type of hours he keeps if he’s spending his nights with his club, doing God knows what to God knows who?

  My mind can’t help but flash an image of the girl I saw him with that first night. Was that his girlfriend? Did he cheat on her with me? Twice? Or do the girlfriends of motorcycle gang members figure that sharing their man is part of the deal? That’s a completely foreign world to me. Still, thinking about that girl again bothers me even though it shouldn’t. What he does with her, or anyone else, is none of my business. I’m here for a job, and that’s it.

  I get back to work, and before I know it, I feel like I’m not alone anymore. When I look up, I almost jump out of my seat to see Sebastian standing in my doorway, staring at me. How long has he been there?

  “Ready for lunch?” he asks, seeming oblivious to the fact that he nearly gave me a heart attack.

  Time flew away from me again.

  The elevator ride is silent, even though we’re alone, and Sebastian is staring ahead at the double doors as each of the lights at the top of the car descend. Since he’s not watching me, I’m free to stare at him. The dark hair that always seems so messy when he’s wearing his leather vest is perfectly straight now, and he must shave every morning because the stubble that burned along the sides of my thighs the other night is barely a shadow on his c
hin. Just the thought of that sensation causes a little tickle to run along my skin, and I shift my stance to make it stop.

  Something seems different, though. Something around one of his eyes that I didn’t notice before.

  “You get a cell yet?” he asks, breaking the silence just before the doors slide open.

  “Oh, um, not yet. I was going to go after work today and pick one up. I meant to do it yesterday, but lost track of time.”

  “Just send an e-mail to Armis in IT and we can set you up with a company one.”

  “No, thanks,” I say a little bit too quickly. He looks at me, but I don’t say anything else. He knows I dropped my other one in the drink at Axle’s, but he has no idea why. I don’t think Sebastian is the stalker type, and I have no plans on having a relationship with him anyway, but I’m not taking any more chances. My next cell phone will be mine alone. “I mean, if it’s okay, I’d rather just get my own.”

  He shrugs. “Suit yourself. You can expense it, at least, unless you have a problem with that, too.”

  “No, that would be great. Thank you.”

  The café is more like a cafeteria, and it’s pretty packed with Piston staff. Sebastian nods to a few people and introduces me to a couple of others, but in general, it seems like not a lot of people recognize him. He told me he flew under the radar, but now I believe him.

  He guides me to a table near one of the walls and sits across from me with his roast beef on a bagel and Pepsi. As he’s looking down at it, I notice what I had started to see in the elevator.

  “Your eye…” I start to say, but he looks up sharply at me, so I stop myself.

  “It’s nothing,” he says. “I thought I’d covered that up.”

  “You did. I mean, I didn’t notice it until I was looking at you in the elevator… I mean, because we were so close, and I just noticed it. And then just now, only because I had seen it before but… what happened?” It looked like he used makeup to hide a cut of some kind.

  “Nothing, things just got rowdy at Axle’s last night. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Things got rowdy? You mean you got in a fight?”

  “It happens, Evelyn. It’s part of being in the MC. Fights are pretty normal.”

  “I thought you were trying to get them turned around?”

  “I didn’t say I was going to turn them into boy scouts. I’m just trying to keep them out of prison. Out of doing hard time and throwing their lives away. But I can’t change who they are. Or who I am, for that matter.”

  “So, you’re fine with that part of the lifestyle? Getting beaten up?”

  “I didn’t get beaten up. You should see the other guy.”

  “Oh, so that’s better? Beating people up?”

  Sebastian is glaring at me now, but I don’t care. We’re talking in hushed tones, and the cafeteria is loud enough that no one can hear us.

  “I don’t need to explain myself to you,” he says, his jaw tight.

  “So much for wanting someone to share both sides of your life with,” I spit back. “Or was that just a line to get me to fuck you again?”

  The darkness of his eyes seem to extend for miles, at first masked by a thinly draped veil of fury, but then that is pulled away almost as quickly as it fell.

  “You’re right,” he says with an exhale. “But I’m not ready to share that side just yet. It’s too dangerous, still, to let anyone near it.”

  “What about you? Is it dangerous for you?” I’m looking at his eye, now. Was that really just from a rowdy night, or something more?

  Sebastian shrugs. “Maybe it is.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and he seems to be looking past me again. Was he answering me, or himself?

  He’s quiet for a time, and then he looks back at me. “I was serious about feeling relief at not having to hide those sides of me. But it’s this side that I need your help with. The other side is something I have to take care of on my own. For now, just having you know that side exists is enough. But I need you to stay out of it.”

  I can tell that he’s serious, so I just nod.

  “I mean it, Evelyn. I’ll talk about it when I’m ready, but don’t push me. And don’t go back to that bar, either. Stay away from Axle’s.”

  Even before Bash walked into my life that night, I had no intention of setting foot in that bar again. That was more Jackie’s scene that mine. The whole thing had been her idea and as far as I knew, she was still screwing the bartender she met there that night.

  But it’s an easy promise to make. “I will.”

  That seems to satisfy him, but he’s gone again, gazing past me—perhaps through me. His armor is back up. And I’m left wondering one more time what I’ve gotten myself into.

  14

  Bash

  “What the fuck is that?” I know exactly what it is, but I’m really hoping I’m wrong.

  “What? The new exhaust? Pretty sweet, ain’t it? Snake hooked me up. He was leaving with the parts from that heist, but as I needed a new muffler anyway, he let me take this one to install. I’ve never seen another one like it. It’s pretty sick.”

  Yes, that’s exactly how I would describe the way I feel about it, too. Sick.

  I take a deep breath, internally counting to ten so that I don’t lose my shit on Sparkie. He’s a good kid, and this isn’t his fault. I’m just here to check on the bike shop and make sure it’s all running smoothly, but putting Sparkie in charge means this trip is likely just a formality. The kid has a good head on his shoulders, and he’s a talented mechanic. He’s pretty new to the club, though, and I don’t think he’s really picked sides yet. This could be an attempt to try and put him on my bad side while at the same time endearing him to the other factions that are vying for power around here.

  But I didn’t expect that move to come from Snake. Do I really need to worry about my own VP? I would have expected this kind of shit from Ripper, but not Snake. I’m losing fucking control over this club faster than I thought.

  “Yeah, it’s really great, kid.” I walk past him and into the shop before he sees me lose my shit. It isn’t even about the muffler. Very few people at Piston would recognize that part by sight as coming from the German batch, and the chance of them ever seeing it on this kid’s bike are slim and none. But Snake knows that when I said to get rid of this shit, I didn’t mean by handing pieces out to brothers. How many other pieces am I going to see popping up around the clubhouse parking lot? Do I need to go and take care of that now, too? So much for me getting back to the office this afternoon.

  At least Evelyn is there. She seemed to have no problem when I suggested she come in this weekend. I guess working for a guy like Edward made her accustomed to working off hours, but if it wasn’t for this whole Germany shit-storm, I wouldn’t have asked. Not after she just started two days ago, at least.

  She’s been a huge help already. I haven’t been able to work out a solution to the missing parts issue yet, but at least I’ve had the time to actually get involved now that she’s streamlining everything else. I think the only thing that’s going to help is going down there and talking to them directly. It’s not time I can afford to be away for myself, though. Not with this stupid power struggle going on here at the club. So I have Evelyn calling a few other overseas suppliers as a last ditch effort to find alternatives. I don’t have a lot of hope for it, though. The timeline is too tight and the designs are too custom for anyone else to be able to tackle it. But the German supplier already did it once. I’m sure they can do it again. They just need the right motivation.

  Inside, the shop is pretty full. There are a couple cars and a handful of bikes all being worked on, or waiting to be worked on, by various members of the MC, and all of them look to actually be working. I handpicked this crew myself, filling the shop with the guys I knew to be the hardest workers. I want this to be our flagship, legit business that I can point to as an example of how we can all make a lot of money doing real work instead of ripping people off, or trading gun
s and drugs with the cartels of the city. But some of the guys in the club would rather do that anyway, even if I hand them legit money on a silver fucking platter.

  The question is: how many of each group make up the Soldiers? When I started to move us legit, I would have guessed there were more Soldiers looking to build a stable life. Now I’m starting to wonder. Either I have a much bigger faction of troublemakers on my hands, or it’s a small group making a lot of noise, trying to seem bigger by stirring up shit in as many places as they can all at once. I’ve just been too busy lately to really sit down and figure it out. Maybe I need a goddamn EA for my club life, too.

  “I’m gonna take a look at the books,” I say. Sparkie has been following behind me since outside, probably sensing I was pissed off, but too afraid to ask why. Checking the books is mainly a formality; I know I won’t find anything wrong. That’s why I put him in charge. If I had slotted Ripper to run this joint, I’d have to be in here every day to clean up his mess. And nights, too. I fully expect if I put him in charge of any of the businesses, he’d have a full blown after-hours casino or whore house running inside of a week.

  Although, Snake runs one of the businesses. I gave him a little printing shop to run, and I’ve mostly left him alone with it over the last few weeks. But if he’s in bed with the other side, maybe I need to get over there and check it out soon. For all I know, he’s got the copiers running all night printing out hundred dollar bills, or something.

  I sigh heavily, dropping into the hard, wooden seat behind the desk. I was careful not to slam the door when I came in—I don’t want everyone knowing how annoyed I am—but I did make a point of closing it. I’m not interested in a conversation right now. I’m just going to check the books and leave. Maybe I’ll skip stopping back at the clubhouse, after all. I’d rather just get back to Piston. Evelyn is there.