Tristan (The Kendall Family #1)

by Randi Everheart

  In a commanding voice, Ryan said, “Been a long time, buddy. How have you been?”

  Tristan invited him in. They spent five minutes catching up at the kitchen table before getting down to business, starting with the bike’s description and the last time they’d seen it. Ryan radioed the details to his office and then offered some information of his own.

  “There’ve been a lot of stolen bikes in the last few years,” observed Ryan. “I have a suspicion that there’s a stolen parts ring because the motorcycles haven’t been turning up.”

  Tristan asked, “Do stolen bikes typically remain missing? Not on the radar?”

  “Sort of. I mean, people are just riding stolen ones around, usually with stolen tags, but there’s been less chatter about unregistered bikes being found than we’d suspect.”

  “Chatter? We?”

  Ryan smiled. “State police. Got lots of friends there, and the rise in stolen bikes has been mostly here in Montgomery County, some up in Frederick. So they filled me in, partly because this isn’t the first one I’ve reported.”

  Victoria asked, “Really? How many?”

  Ryan answered, “Six in the last year just in my jurisdiction.”

  Tristan’s eyes widened. Comus was a small town. “Are you serious? How many outside of it?”

  “Last year there were over two thousand stolen in Maryland, usually in cities, of course, but there’s been a big increase in our local area here for some reason.”

  Victoria frowned. “I wish I’d known that. I’ve been leaving my bike parked in neutral in front of my job at the strip mall.”

  Ryan said, “Well that’s a fairly public street for Comus, so stealing it would’ve been a little risky, not that it couldn’t be done.”

  “So have any of these bikes been recovered?” Tristan asked. “Should I get my hopes up?”

  “Last year about five hundred were, so the odds aren’t in your favor, but you never know. Was there anything distinctive about it?”

  “Some decals on the sides. I have a picture I can show you. It wasn’t my racing bike so it doesn’t have all of that sponsor stuff on it.”

  Ryan said, “If it did, they might not have stolen it, at least if they were hoping to sell it whole. Too recognizable. Anyway, look, we need to do some paperwork and then I’ll get out of your hair. You might want to stop by Clarksburg Motorsports, too.”

  “Why?” Tristan asked. He knew CMS well but hadn’t been there in years. The place probably had Victoria’s bike there now but he’d forgotten to ask her about that.

  Ryan answered, “I’ve had a hunch they’re involved in all the stolen bikes around here but can’t prove anything yet. There’s a chance your bike is sitting there right now.”

  Chapter 9 – Suspicion

  Victoria arched an eyebrow at Ryan but kept her mouth shut as he and Tristan did some paperwork at the kitchen table. The guys at Clarksburg Motorsports had been nothing but fair to her, and she didn’t like the implication that they were somehow involved in a stolen bike ring. She thought her intuition about people was usually right. This was rural Maryland, not some big city. That kind of stuff didn’t go on around here. Only after the sheriff left did she voice her displeasure.

  “I doubt CMS has anything to do with stolen bikes,” she said, crossing her arms.

  Tristan shrugged. “How can you be so sure?”

  “They sold me my bike and were very cool about it. They even gave me a good deal.”

  “Maybe because you’re hot?” Tristan suggested, smiling.

  Victoria gave him a withering look and was about to say something when she remembered the salesman flirting with her the whole time. Had that been the reason? The idea annoyed her. She’d done research on how to get a good deal and felt she’d handled the whole thing well when the dealer had agreed to her price. Now she wanted to smack Tristan for suggesting sexism had something to do with it instead.

  “Look,” she began, ignoring his remark, “I took safety courses from them, and I get all my parts and service done there. I’ve also gone on some touring trips they arranged. These are cool guys. I just can’t believe they’re involved in this.”

  “Okay, whatever you say. I don’t have an opinion.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you patronizing me?”

  “No. Ryan said they were involved, not me.” He gave her a look. “You seem oddly defensive of them. Do you know someone working there or something?”

  “No. I just trust them.”

  Tristan smiled. “Never trust a car or bike dealership. First rule of vehicle ownership.”

  Now both of her eyebrows had gone up. “I thought you weren’t patronizing me.”

  He sighed. “Can we forget about this? Let’s head over there and see what they think of your bike.”

  She nodded and went to get her purse, realizing she felt like arguing with him and wondering why. Everything had been going fine between them. Better than fine. The last day was the best one she’d had in a long time. And maybe that was why. Were unresolved issues from their past cropping up? The air hadn’t really cleared. It was too soon for that anyway. You can’t go around having baggage about someone for five years and then just fuck it all away in a day—even when the sex was awesome. She still doubted he’d told her the real reason he’d snuck into her house. Maybe he was waiting for the right time to bring up something, too. They probably had some talking to do, and she had a big secret she likely needed to tell him. But now wasn’t the time. She wasn’t sure when a good opportunity would come up but figured the two of them had time. Hopefully. She had to find out if and when he was heading back to his racing career, touring the world.

  And that struck her as the gnawing angst unsettling her. No promises from Tristan could be enough to stop her from worrying about him leaving, not that he’d made such a promise. She needed more certainty or their new situation wasn’t going to work. Tristan had to want to be with her of his own volition, too. She wasn’t going to convince him of anything by arguing. But she could certainly make him want to stay in other ways, like making it clear that life with her was as close to heaven on Earth as he’d ever get.

  She smiled with new resolve as she returned to the kitchen, finding him looking pensive. The half-smile he flashed gave her the impression he was worried about her mood and she realized that being moody wasn’t a good way to keep him around. She wasn’t the all-sunshine type, but she could try.

  Putting her arms around his neck, she whispered, “I’m sorry.” Then she kissed him long and deep. His sensuous lips crushed hers as his strong arms pulled her close. She felt the warmth of his belly on hers, the muscles of his chest flexing against her breasts, and a welcome bulge pressing against her waist. This was more like it.

  With a smile, she pulled away and led him by the hand toward the rear door. “Let’s go to CMS and check it out.”

  As they got into Connor’s convertible, Tristan glanced around the driveway and asked her, “You don’t have a car?”

  She put the seatbelt on as he started the engine. “Yeah. I don’t go far and I buy groceries a few things at a time so I can fit stuff in the saddlebags. I’ve sort of been enjoying having a lean life. No baggage.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Sounds like you weren’t planning on staying.”

  She pursed her lips. “I hadn’t really made up my mind. I just came to deal with my mother’s things after she died and then decided to stay awhile. Some of my old friends are here, so it’s been nice reconnecting, even though people have changed.”

  “Like you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Has anything else about you changed?”

  “Well, a girl’s gotta have some mysteries, Tristan,” she said coyly. “You’ll just have to find out the fun way.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” He squeezed her thigh.

  Clarksburg was ten minutes from Comus, eleven in rush hour, and much more populous, with ove
r ten thousand residents. Even so, it still lacked the fast food joints and places like Home Depot, Wal-Mart, and other staples of American life. One had to go a few miles south to Germantown for such things. Clarksburg was where the people of Comus bought the basics, and Victoria had discovered on her return that the unincorporated area had been built up in her absence, with a new ‘premium outlets’ shopping center on the way.

  CMS stood at the nearest part of town, a few stop lights in, a rotating, neon sign showing a Harley-Davidson with a cloud of smoke behind it. A few cruisers and sport bikes like Tristan’s were lined up outside the brick-and-mortar building, but most of the inventory remained in a big glass showroom to keep the bikes out of the elements. To one side stood the service bay, its open doors revealing a number of guys in jeans and t-shirts working on bikes that stood on stands or lifts. To the other side stood CMS Bar and Grill, a somewhat rustic-looking wooden building with picnic tables and umbrella stands out front; a bar was already serving food and drink to some of the burly bikers sitting there.

  Out back, a stage stood under a canopy, where wet t-shirt contests and concerts happened on weekends. The parking lot was back there, too, and Tristan pulled to a stop in it, looking around. Victoria knew the place had beefed up a lot since he’d last been here. The restaurant was new and a fresh coat of paint covered everything. CMS wasn’t doing badly financially; that was certain. But the idea that a stolen bike ring was somehow a part of it was hard to believe. CMS provided great service and atmosphere, so why wouldn’t they be doing great?

  The two of them got out and approached the showroom, but when Tristan stopped to check out a bike, Victoria gave him a pat on the ass and went inside without him, glad he’d lingered outside. In theory he knew better than to voice suspicions to CMS, but she knew he could be unpredictable at times. That had its fun advantages, but she was hoping to ward off any uncomfortable remarks.

  Going through the double glass doors, she stepped onto the doormat covering the polished blue floor, looking over the rows of bikes, all gleaming chrome, steel, and fabricated shells. The smell of new tires filled the air, with a top note of motor oil wafting in from the open doors of the service bay. She was about to head that way when a familiar man approached.

  “Tori!” Larry said, grinning. “What brings you in?”

  She reluctantly stopped to face the guy who’d sold her the bike and who never missed a chance to flirt with her. He also insisted on calling her “Tori”. He was ten years older than her, with his thinning hair long except for where it had gone missing from his chrome dome; his head shone brighter than the metal parts of the bikes. Crooked teeth and several tattoos combined with his girth to make him seem a little scummy.

  “Hi, Larry,” she said. “My bike’s in the shop. Do you know who’s looking at it for me?”

  “No,” he said, “but I can find out for you. What kind of work did it need? You know that if you’d come to me first, I could’ve gotten you a deal.”

  “Well, of course I would’ve come to you first! But I wrecked it so I didn’t have time to think about that.”

  His grin vanished. “Oh, wow, you wrecked? What happened? You all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. A deer tried to take me out.”

  His eyes widened and she realized from his reaction that she was lucky to be alive. Tristan’s response had been similar. Maybe this riding thing wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  “If you got the deer’s description, I’ll go take him out with my rifle. Then maybe after that I can take you out.” He snickered.

  Victoria didn’t think he was smart enough for nuances like that. “Sorry, Larry, but my boyfriend probably wouldn’t like that.”

  “Ah. Sure you don’t wanna trade up for me? I’ll give you a good deal on that, too.”

  This time she actually laughed and gestured for Tristan to come over after he entered the showroom. “I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings. Tristan, this is Larry, my salesman.”

  They shook hands and Larry said, “Wow, Tristan, what are you doing here? You’re a total legend around here for all those racing wins!”

  Tristan smiled graciously. “Thanks, but I think you’re overstating it.”

  “Not really. Hey, you know, you could do a local commercial for the dealership or something. You know, if you wanted. We could give you a good deal on parts and bikes or whatever in exchange. I’m sure Rick would love something like that.”

  “Who’s Rick?”

  “That would be me,” said a gravelly voice behind them. Tristan and Victoria turned to see a slender man in his fifties. Unlike everyone else, even the salesmen, he wore a grey suit and red power tie, his greying black hair slicked back. If he had any tattoos like everyone else working here, they weren’t visible. For an earring, he wore only a diamond stud in one ear. Extending his hand, he said, “Tristan Kendall! I heard you were in town. What in the world brings you here?”

  Tristan shook his hand, perplexed. “How did you hear that?”

  Rick’s smile faded a bit and he faltered. “Uh, someone mentioned it. Can I sell you a—”

  “Who? No one knew but my family I was here.”

  “Well, it’s a small town, you know. Word gets around. I’m the owner here, too, so I hear everything.”

  Tristan still didn’t see how Rick would’ve heard, but one suspicion did come to mind, so he gently probed for information. “That’s good to know. Reminds me of something I wanted to mention. My bike was stolen last night. Maybe you guys can keep an eye out for it.”

  “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

  When Rick didn’t say anything else, Tristan asked, “Aren’t you gonna ask for a description of it?”

  Victoria shot him a look and frowned.

  Rick hesitated. “I was gonna wait for the police report to come in. They usually send those pretty quick to all of the dealers in the area. But you can certainly give me a rundown. I don’t suppose you know the VIN?”

  “No. Long number.”

  “That it is. We’ll get the info before you leave.”

  Changing the subject, Victoria asked, “So, Rick, how are you doing?”

  “Great. I’m glad to see you’re okay. I heard about your accident.”

  “Thanks. We came to see the bike, or what’s left of it.”

  “Oh, it’s not too bad. Let’s take a look.” Rick started off toward the service bay and then hesitated. “Hey, uh, Larry, can you go move the bikes we got in this morning, around to the back?”

  Larry looked confused. “There was only the one.”

  “Then that’s the one I mean.” Rick turned to Victoria. “Once he gets that out of the way, we can go take a look at your bike. Do you want a loaner in the meantime? Either of you? Let’s have a look at what we’ve got.”

  He led the way to some of the used bikes, Tristan glancing back at the service bay several times to the point of both Victoria and Rick noticing it. They spent the next five minutes looking over a few different cruisers and sport bikes that would do in a pinch, with Tristan fairly certain that he’d come back for one later. He’d left his helmet at Quinn’s, so he couldn’t take a bike for a spin—riding without one was illegal in Maryland.

  “If you really want to see how one of them rides, Tristan,” began Rick, “you can sign up for the mountain tour we’re doing in a few days. We’re headed down Shenandoah Valley on Skyline Drive in the mountains, from Front Royal to Rockfish Gap. It’s a good overnight trip. We can do it in a day but we like to take our time.”

  Victoria turned to Tristan. “We should do that. It’s a great ride.”

  “You’ve done it before?”

  “Once, and I’m already signed up for this one. It’ll be a lot better with you along.”

  “We can talk about it later if you want. You’ll need another bike. I’m sure yours won’t be ready by then.”

  At that point, Larry returned and gave Rick two thumbs up, so Rick said, “Let’s go have a look and see.”

&n
bsp; Chapter 10 – Surrender

  Tristan, Victoria, and Rick headed into the service area, the smell of motor oil and exhaust assailing them. Cardboard boxes large enough to hold bikes were stacked in the far corner, a yellow forklift sat nearby, and several lifts had bikes up off the floor. Sweaty mechanics in greasy jeans and T-shirts were at work. Victoria’s bike stood off to one side on its kickstand. Aside from cosmetic damage, the front wheel and fork had been bent, the chain had a stress fracture, and the clutch lever had snapped. All had to be replaced.

  Stopping beside the bike, Rick said, “It’s not too bad but it’ll take a week or so to get the parts in and fix it. We’ve got some of that now but not everything. It helps that we’re a dealer for your bike. We also need to get the insurance guy out here before doing any work.”

  Victoria said, “Yeah, I talked to them yesterday so they should contact you.”

  “Okay. They might’ve already and I just haven’t heard.”

  Tristan wasn’t really listening to their conversation. He’d been in a bike service area just about every day for the past five years for his racing career. The familiarity made him smile, and seeing his girl beside him and comfortable there made him wish it had always been like this with her. Maybe things would've been different and they wouldn’t have lost five years. For all he knew, they could’ve had a kid or two by now.

  He brushed the thought aside as he noticed the area around her bike was so clear of obstacles that even if another bike had stood here moments ago, it wouldn’t have been in their way. He glanced around as if just checking out the work area, but his eyes darted to every bike, noting their color, make, and model, and that none of them were his. Where had Rick’s new acquisition gone? A nagging feeling told him that the bike they’d moved was his, but he really had nothing to go on for that and the theory seemed a little crazy even to him. Even so, maybe it was time to ask about this idea of people selling spare parts from stolen bikes, albeit discreetly. He was curious even without his bike possibly being among them.