Still Standing

by Kristen Ashley

  Buck slid his arms around me again and he gathered me close, but he didn’t have an answer to my question.

  Likely because there wasn’t one.

  “I was talking to Mrs. Jimenez. Talking about enchiladas at your house and how good you could cook. Normal stuff. Food. Friends. That’s all I want my life to be. That isn’t asking much. Why is that so hard?” I asked.

  “It’ll pass, Toots.”

  I shook my head then pressed my cheek to his shoulder. “I’m thirty-two, West. It hasn’t yet and I’m beginning to think it never will.”

  “Babe,” he muttered.

  “Six and a half million dollars,” I whispered. “He thinks that’s taking care of me.” I shook my head against his shoulder. “As Gear would say, that…is…whacked.” I sighed and proclaimed, “Happiness is Pop-Tarts. I wish he got that.”

  I felt Buck’s body move against mine, and I lifted my head and looked down at him to see he was what I thought he was.

  Laughing.

  “What’s funny?” I asked.

  “Happiness is Pop-Tarts?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He stared at me a second and then threw his head back and roared with laughter, his arms convulsing around me.

  My body got stiff.

  “I’m being very serious, West Hardy,” I informed him.

  “Yeah, babe,” he said through his hilarity, his eyes focusing on me, “I know.”

  “I just endured a drama,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, babe, I saw.”

  “There is nothing to laugh at,” I snapped.

  “Gorgeous, you just told that asshole to tell your ex to shove six and a half million dollars up his ass.”

  “I know, but that is not funny.”

  “I’m awash with happiness. Lead me to him straight away,” he quoted, shaking his head, still laughing. “Some a’ the shit that comes outta your mouth, babe. Fuckin’ priceless.”

  “Buck, I’m not finding this amusing.”

  “Do you want an island in the Pacific or are you thinkin’ Caribbean?” he inquired.

  “Stop joking!” I snapped and slapped his shoulder.

  “It can’t be too expensive. We gotta leave you at least a million to buy bikinis and pumice scrub, whatever the fuck that is,” he remarked.

  With a frustrated noise, I tried to shove out of his lap, but his arms only got tighter.

  “You leave my lap, babe, you do it to lock the doors and close the blinds.”

  “It’s normal operating hours, Buck,” I told him haughtily. “The doors and blinds are open during normal operating hours so I can see what’s going on and the boys can get to me if they need me, even if I’ve just endured another drama.”

  “They don’t need you for the next half hour.”

  “Deliveries don’t come on my schedule. They come when they come. And Jimbo takes his break at three o’clock sharp. I’ve been saving him a cupcake and he knows it.”

  “Jimbo’s gonna have to delay breaktime, babe. Go lock the doors and pull the blinds.”

  I tilted my head as I looked at him and asked, “Why are you being weird?”

  “Because I don’t give a fuck if someone sees or walks in on me fuckin’ you on the desk, but I reckon you will, so you need to lock the doors and pull the blinds.”

  I sucked in breath and my eyes grew wide, even as I felt my nipples get hard.

  Then I whispered, “You aren’t fucking me on the desk.”

  But I kind of hoped he was.

  “Yeah, I definitely am.”

  Oh my.

  Then I remembered where we were.

  “You can’t,” I hissed. “They already call me Redhot. You do that, they’ll hear, and I’ll never live that nickname down.”

  “You’re never gonna live it down anyway, Toots, so you might as well live it up.”

  He had a point there.

  “I have things to do,” I informed him.

  “And you can do ’em. You let go instead of holdin’ on, I might be able to make you come in twenty minutes rather than half an hour, then you can get to doin’ the things you gotta do.”

  I tried a different tack.

  “I can’t have sex in the workplace. People don’t have sex in their workplace.”

  “Babe, quit fuckin’ around.”

  “But—”

  “You keep fuckin’ around, I do you on the desk with the blinds open and doors unlocked. You want that?”

  I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why are you so annoying?”

  “You can tell me I’m annoying when I got my dick inside you and you’re moanin’ at me to fuck you harder. Now, go lock the doors and close…the fuckin’…blinds.”

  I glared at him.

  He absorbed my glare and lifted his brows.

  Then I pushed off his lap, locked the doors and closed the blinds.

  I did this because I was protesting, but it was only for show.

  What I really wanted was Buck to fuck me on the desk.

  Lucky for me, I got what I wanted and Buck “did” me on the desk, right on top of my papers, files and everything.

  I was pretty certain anyone outside heard it.

  I was also pretty certain Buck didn’t care, not even a little bit.

  What was surprising was…

  I didn’t either.

  17

  There’s No Way Out

  It was afternoon in the office the next day.

  Friday.

  Payday.

  The first thing I did when I got to the office was log into my account online.

  Promptly after, I did my first-ever, very loud whoop and holler of sheer glee when I saw I had a positive bank balance and that positive was more than a dollar and fifty-seven cents.

  In concern after the big drama the day before, Raul came running.

  I just gave him a homemade oatmeal and chocolate chip cookie and sent him back to the warehouse so he could load up for his job that day, assuring him all was well.

  After that, I paid on all three of my credit cards and sent a check off to Raymundo for my part of Mrs. Jimenez’s rent.

  I didn’t pay a lot on the credit cards because I liked the feel of having a positive bank balance, the next payday was two weeks away and my cards needed about six months of full-on payments to get under control, but at least it was something and maybe they’d call off their collectors.

  With this start, I knew that day was going to be better than the day before.

  This was thinking positively, of course, considering my life and the fact that anything could happen in it. But I was holding on to that with all I had.

  And anyway, tonight was Buck’s enchiladas with Mrs. Jimenez, Gear, and Tatiana.

  Sure, Tatiana wasn’t a bonus in that mix, but the enchiladas would make up for her not liking me.

  It was now the afternoon, and there had fortunately been no dramas.

  So, of course, the day took a turn.

  Chap, Jimbo, and Raul were sitting on the couch in my office. Jimbo and Raul were taking a break and enjoying a fresh mug of coffee and the last of the cookies (they’d made it that long because I’d tripled the recipe, I’d learned that early). Chap was taking sips from a flask. Minnie was sitting on my desk gabbing. I was printing off invoices.

  Then the door opened.

  I looked up, and the room went instantly wired.

  This was because Detective Rayne Scott, looking gorgeous, wearing a Henley, a sports jacket, jeans and boots, and sporting a badge and gun on his belt, walked in.

  I forgot to mention.

  Also that morning, I’d placed a call to the police station leaving a message for Rayne Scott.

  I stared at him looking gorgeous (worth a repeat) and standing in my office.

  Fantastic.

  He couldn’t just phone?

  “Cop,” Chap growled in a weirdly unhappy way as I felt Minnie, equally weirdly, get tense on my desk.

  I kept staring at Scott and ignore
d their responses.

  Many of the biker and biker babe responses were still a mystery to me. Though it didn’t take years living in the biker world to know bikers and cops weren’t the best of friends.

  Still, Scott had just walked into a room. He didn’t do it with a SWAT team at his back, gun drawn, shouting, “Freeze!”

  I pointed out the obvious, “You got my call.”

  “Your call?” Minnie whispered.

  “Yep,” Scott stated, walking into the room like there was nothing amiss when there was a lot amiss.

  Attitude rolled off Chap in waves, and Minnie was so tense, I felt it across my desk.

  Raul and Jimbo stood and immediately shuffled out the door (but Jimbo grabbed the last cookie before he went).

  I’d tipped my head back to look at Scott. “You could have called back. I left a number.”

  “Babe,” Minnie said low, “I gotta go Professor Higgins on your ass. You called a cop?”

  I looked at her and then swung my head to Chap when he repeated, a lot less friendly, “Yeah, you called a cop?”

  “It isn’t a big deal,” I told Chap.

  Chap ignored me and looked at Scott. “Think you know this territory is off-limits.”

  “Chap, I think you know no territory is off-limits,” Scott returned.

  Chap’s attitude ratcheted up to tsunami level, and I stood.

  “It’s okay, Chap. I called him and it’s not a big deal,” I assured, hoping to hold back the tidal wave.

  Chap’s eyes sliced to me. “Cops at Ace, woman, always a big deal.”

  “This isn’t,” I returned.

  Chap’s thick, gray, needing-a-trim-due-to-wayward-hairs brows went up. “Buck know about this shit?”

  “Um…no,” I answered.

  “Oh shit,” Minnie muttered, and I looked at her.

  “It isn’t a big deal!” I stated, somewhat loudly, throwing my hands up, not knowing why they were acting so weird.

  “Clara, why don’t you just tell me why you called,” Scott put in, and Chap moved closer to my desk.

  I looked at Scott.

  “Rogan’s sick,” I told him, and Scott went from alert to something else, something soft, and it made all that was gorgeous about him beautiful.

  I kind of wished he was ugly and a creep. It would make dealing with him and not liking him easier.

  Instead, it was becoming clear he wasn’t just a good guy, he was maybe a really good guy.

  “You found out,” he muttered.

  So he knew.

  I wondered how he knew.

  Considering the atmosphere in the room, I didn’t ask that.

  “Nolan came visiting yesterday,” I shared.

  “Bet he delivered the news gentle.” Scott was still muttering now while also being sarcastic.

  “Not exactly,” I replied.

  “Dick.” He kept muttering.

  Clearly, Detective Rayne Scott knew Nolan Armitage too.

  “Anyway,” I sallied forth, “apparently, there’s a five-million-dollar life insurance policy and a million and a half in an offshore account,” I informed Scott.

  His body went alert, his eyes grew sharp, but Chap exploded.

  “Fuckin’ A, woman, what the fuck?”

  “Oh shit,” Minnie mumbled, coming off the desk, “I seriously gotta go PH on your ass.”

  “What?” I asked Minnie, but Minnie was looking at Scott.

  “Can you go?”

  “No,” Scott answered.

  “This won’t take long,” I told Minnie.

  “You’re givin’ info to a cop,” Minnie retorted, her eyes swinging to me.

  “No, I’m not, I mean…I am,” I replied. “But Rogan’s already in jail. It isn’t like he can be more in jail.”

  “You never give info to a cop,” Minnie returned.

  “Damn straight,” Chap growled.

  “Jesus,” Scott muttered.

  “I can’t rat on someone who’s already doing time for the crime,” I pointed out what I thought was logically.

  “Don’t matter,” Minnie replied.

  “Can I just do what I have to do?” I asked Minnie, then swung my head to Chap. “It isn’t what you think.”

  “Just do what you have to do, Clara,” Scott urged.

  I nodded, ignored Minnie, Chap and their stubbornness and launched in.

  “Right. Well, anyway, what I wanted to know is…you seized the house, Rogan’s car, the accounts, the portfolios and you liquidated them, giving it to the people who Rogan stole from, right?”

  “Right,” Scott answered on a nod.

  “So, he dies. If I get that money, can you locate those people again and distribute it fairly?”

  Scott blinked at me.

  Slowly.

  Minnie groaned.

  Chap exploded again.

  “Are you fuckin’ loco?” he shouted.

  “No!” I snapped at him, losing my patience with his attitude.

  “Does Buck know about this?” he snapped back.

  “No,” I replied. “But what does it matter? That money isn’t mine and it isn’t Buck’s, it’s those people’s.”

  Chap leaned in. “Woman, you do not make a move without Buck. You do not utter a word about important shit, like fuckin’ givin’ away fuckin’ six and a half million fuckin’ dollars, without Buck knowin’ and givin’ the go-ahead. And you don’t deal with cops ever unless Buck is in on it.”

  “Like I said, it isn’t his money, and it isn’t mine,” I replied.

  “Babe, that guy fucked you over as in fucked you over,” Minnie threw in, and I swung my head the other way to look at her. “You earned that money, and Buck pulled your shit outta the fryer so, Aces’ rules, he gets his share. That money is so yours and you, you’re Buck’s old lady. Chap is right. Heads-up on the PH advice, sister, Eliza Biker Babe needs to learn right fuckin’ now that she don’t move on shit like this unless Buck is in the know.”

  Were they serious?

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “You got bill collectors on your ass, credit cards to pay off and you’re on the back of Buck’s bike or your ass is in his ride because A, you’re his woman, but mostly ’cause, B,” she leaned in, “you ain’t got no ride because it’s been repoed.”

  “I know that,” I told her softly.

  She leaned back. “So, my guess is, you talked to Buck about this, he’d say take care a’ you. And what I know is, an old lady takes care of her old man. He’s swung his ass out there for you, you hit a windfall like this, you can find six and a half million ways to pay him back and you’re gonna give it away?”

  Oh dear.

  I saw her point.

  “Minnie—” I started.

  She threw up her hands. “Even if you didn’t look out for him, babe, you need to learn to start lookin’ out for you.”

  “She’s right.”

  That came from Scott and everyone turned to him, but I suspected only I did it with my lips parted.

  “Sorry?” I whispered.

  “She’s right, Clara,” he repeated. “The million and a half, that’s dirty money. Kirk stole from a lot of people. We recovered a good deal, he didn’t piss it all away, but there was a major deficit. That won’t cover it, but somethin’ is better than nothin’. You give that back, they could use it and they’d be grateful. The five mil,” he tipped his chin to me, “that’s yours. You feel like bein’ generous, you give a little back. But you cover yourself before you do that. Pay your bills, get yourself a car, buy a house, put some away, make certain where you were is a place you’re never gonna be again.”

  This was met with silence until Chap grunted.

  Scott’s eyes never left mine and he finished, “Kirk dies, you come into that windfall, you know how to find me. But listen to your girl.” Now his head tilted to Minnie. “And don’t do anything until you take care of you.”

  After delivering that message, his eyes swept Minnie and Chap, he turned on
his boot and walked out the door.

  The second it closed, Chap turned to Minnie and pointed at her. “I’m leavin’ and, ’cause she makes good cookies and cupcakes, I’m keepin’ my mouth shut ’bout this shit. You,” he jabbed his finger at Minnie, “get her shit sharp. This kinda shit happens again, I ain’t keepin’ my mouth shut. You hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Minnie said softly.

  Chap nodded, and without looking at me, he followed Scott out the door.

  I turned to Minnie in time to see her hands go to her hips.

  “Sit your ass down, babe, the rain in Spain is right now fallin’ on the fuckin’ plain, get me?”

  I pressed my lips together.

  I got her.

  So I sat down.

  Two hours later, I was in search of Buck because we had to go get Mrs. Jimenez and meet his kids at the house.

  As I searched, my latest Professor Higgins session was rumbling through my brain.

  Apparently, biker babes deferred to their biker boys in everything, which meant everything.

  The man made the decisions, the woman lived with them.

  And also, if the man told the woman to do something, she did it. No matter what it was.

  Or, if he told her not to do something, she didn’t do it, no matter how much she may want to.

  I had to admit, I was uncertain about this.

  I also had to admit, the word “uncertain” was a massive understatement.

  I further had to admit that I was uncertain Buck actually lived by this philosophy.

  I was certain he was domineering, but he was also sweet and gentle, in a rough and tumble way.

  Still, he was.

  I couldn’t imagine if I wanted something badly enough, we couldn’t discuss it and he wouldn’t see my way of thinking.

  I also couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t want me to be free and clear to make decisions about my life.

  We were living together, but only out of necessity. Buck wasn’t sure I was safe yet (no word about Esposito, except from Buck, “He’s got his hands full dealing with his own people,” which I took as something that would have Esposito’s total focus), and therefore, I was never alone. Unless I was in the office. But with the place crawling with people, that wasn’t really alone.

  I had also only earned one paycheck and my fat, as Minnie put it, was by no means out of the fryer.