by Cathryn Cade
And if there was one clubhouse rule he was not about to break, it was that greasy coveralls and automotive rags were not allowed in the washer and dryer, 'cause they left oily grime behind. Sara would lose her mind, which meant Stick would lose his, and no way was T getting in front of the Russian Iceberg when he was pissed.
T-Bear's pride was already beat to shit. He didn't need a face to match.
He scowled as he remembered the cause of his embarrassment—a certain platinum blonde stripper with DD-cups and a black heart to match her roots.
His concentration broken, he straightened from the car, twisting from side to side, a wrench in one hand, a loosened nut in the other. He was the biggest brother wearing a Devil's Flyer cut in E Washington, which meant there was a lot for his back to support. It could hurt like a bitch after long hours bending over a car engine.
"Best concentrate on females like this little darlin’," he muttered, looking down at the engine of the gold '66 Mustang he was currently tuning up. "She purrs like a kitten, gives a sweet ride, and long as a man takes care of her, she always takes care of him."
In the next bay over, Moke was in the pit underneath a pickup truck, his big frame mostly hidden. "Krystelle get you for that much?" he asked.
"Nah. Few hundred." But fuck, T would've given her the money if she asked for it.
She'd spent the last month cooing and fluttering her lashes at him, along with shaking her ass and titties o' course, cause that's how she made a living, stripping out at State Line, on the Idaho border.
She'd had him right where she wanted him. But once she got into his bed at the club, he got one blow-job and woke up with her long gone, his pride and available cash along with her. "Worst part is, she took my phone too."
Moke snorted. "That piece o' junk? Couldn't even play Elven Warriors on it with the screen all crack li' dat."
"Only 'cause I fell on it after you knocked me off my bar stool at the Hangar," T grumbled. "Anyways, I can play games at the clubhouse on that sweet system Stick got us. You've seen Elf warrior Sheenah on the big screen, right? It's like a guy could walk right up and grab that ass of hers. All in that tight little green outfit...mm-hmm."
"Da kine," his friend agreed. It had taken T-Bear some time to catch on to Moke’s habit of tossing Hawaiian pidgin into his convo, but he had the hang of it now. So he knew that meant ‘mighty fine’. Because, find a man with a dick in his pants who didn't perk up when Sheenah stalked on the video game screen.
Moke climbed out of the pit. He stood, as broad as T and nearly as tall, as he reached for a rag to wipe his hands on. Samoan-Hawaiian in stature and looks, his skin was golden brown, his eyes, brows and lashes ebony like the long hair visible under the beany he wore pulled down low.
"I could still listen to audio-books on that phone, though," T-Bear said, getting back to his gripe. "And I was right in the middle of a real good one."
"They make comics for bikers?" A glimmer of a smile touched Moke's dark, solid face.
T gave him the stink eye. "Smart ass. The Brother-Band series is chapter books. It's whaddya call it—young adult. Great adventure story about these Viking-like dudes, back in olden times. But I'm on the last book in the series, and now I can't finish it till I get another phone."
There was a short silence as Moke grabbed a Coke from the cooler under the workbench and popped it open. "I got you, if you need a loan."
T-Bear's cheeks burned. "Nah. I'm good, thanks. Knife owes me for our last poker night. An' luckily I had some cash in my other pants—Kryssy didn't find that."
Moke chuckled, and T joined in, because it was funny, picturing the busty blonde picking her way through his clothes, which he generally kept handy on the floor, clean piled in one spot and dirty in another, and no one but him knew which was which. Hell, sometimes he got 'em mixed up.
He mimed the blonde holding her nose with one hand while she picked up a pair of jeans with her fingertips. His pants did tend to get kinda gamy, since he often went commando, 'specially when he forgot to do laundry.
"Bet she wished she had some Vicks to dab under her nose like the cops do with a deader," he said.
Moke snorted his soda out his nose.
That was funny as hell too, and they both busted out laughing.
But as they walked out of the shop a short while later and locked the door behind them, T sighed heavily. "I dunno," he said, squinting as the cold March wind blew his curly red hair into his eyes. "Think I'm just gonna give up on women. Buy me a blowup doll and set her in the corner when I'm done."
"Seen a movie about that," Moke said as they moved to their bikes, parked in brightly painted spots, on the south side of the garage. "'Cept the guy was in love with his doll. His family went along and pretended she was real too."
T groaned. "Aw, fuck it. That'd be just my luck. There I'd be at the club, and the old ladies would be all, 'Now T, you know you can bring your blow-up bitch to party with us. We like her, she's quiet and sweet.'"
Moke laughed, his white teeth flashing. "Specially Lesa."
This was true. The third of their tight trio, Pete 'Brews' Vanko, was engaged to a vivacious, big-hearted brunette, Lesa Boggs. She helped run Pete's Hangar Brewpub and Grill. When she and Pete were off, they often hung out at the clubhouse with the rest of the Flyer family. Lesa and T got along great.
But a few weeks ago, she'd tried to set him up with some local chick who worked at the hardware store. No offense to Lesa, but the gal reminded him of a cute, little chipmunk. He'd crush her if he rolled over on her in bed. T-Bear had steered clear and kinda hoped Lesa would quit trying to find him a woman.
"There's a party at the clubhouse this weekend. There'll be plenty wahines there," Moke said.
T-Bear shrugged. There was no one in the current pussy posse who appealed to him. "Think I'm done tryin' for a while. Now I'm off to get me another phone. See you later."
Moke pointed a finger at him. "I'm comin' with. Gonna make sure you sign up for the insurance this time. You did that last time, you'd be gettin' a free phone today."
This was true, and T didn't mind having company, so he merely nodded.
The clerk at the local phone store was a pretty redhead who was tickled to have two bikers, especially Moke, interrupt her boring evening. In between flirting with the big Hawaiian, she set T-Bear up with a new smart-phone in a shock-proof case, with insurance.
"You can get a second phone, too," she told him. "We have a BOGO deal on. One for you, and one for your girlfriend?"
"Don't have a girlfriend."
"Oh. Well, the deal is good for a week," she said. "In case you find a lady." She smiled at Moke.
"That ain't happening," T muttered. He paid for the phone and the insurance, had her input his contacts and info from the cloud, and tossed the little bag and papers in the trash on his way out. No use keeping a bunch of shit he could hardly read.
He'd no sooner hit the parking lot than his phone buzzed in his pocket. He palmed it and tapped the screen to bring up a text.
'Told U I'd find U a great gal!' he read slowly aloud.
The accompanying picture was of a twenty-something woman with honey blonde hair drifting like silk around her face and throat.
Her head was tipped back as she laughed, her peachy lips open, eyes nearly closed. She wore a simple brown tee and no jewelry, but she was real pretty. Her soft face and the soft freckles beside the corner of her mouth did something for him.
She looked fresh and natural, like every move she made wouldn't be calculated for its effect on the nearest man or men. A regular hometown honey.
"Hey, who dat?" Moke asked, peering over his shoulder. "I'd buy her a phone."
"Yeah, me too," T-Bear said. "But who the hell is Rezan Farto? Fardo? No, Faro. That's who this text is from."
Then saying the name aloud clicked a memory. "Oh, right. He's the little dude I met at State Line, back in their poker room. Beat him at cards, and he just laughed and said he'd get it back some other
time."
The guy had joked something about sending T-Bear a pretty woman that would cost him his winnings but be worth every penny.
"She da kine. You know her?"
T-Bear smiled slowly. "No, but I think I'm gonna."
"Huh. Guess you ain't done trying after all."
"Guess not."
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
Reeling from Rezan's disastrous revelation, Manda stumbled back to her cabin.
There, she perched on the edge of the bed, buried her face in her hands, and let loose all the tears that had been building since Tim drove away two days ago. She should have listened to her gut, not to him. And she should have started doing so months ago.
Now, he'd left her alone and broke in a strange place. She felt lost, adrift as a balloon with a broken string.
No, now just wait a minute. She wasn't exactly helpless. And no matter how it felt right now, she wasn't alone in the world, or even in the state of Idaho.
She swiped her face and began nerving herself up to go and make the call she'd saved as a last resort—to her mother.
In ordinary times, she'd call Aunt Macy, but her favorite aunt, her mom's younger sister, was in Cancun for two weeks with a friend. And since Macy lived in the Portland area, it wasn't like Manda could just hitch a ride to her place and use her key to let herself in. Also, she was pretty sure Macy had mentioned subletting her apartment through Airbnb while she was gone.
A loud knock on her cabin door made Manda nearly jump out of her skin. She wiped her wet, swollen face on the hem of Tim's hoodie, and walked to the door.
When she saw Rezan standing on the step, Manda tried to smile. "Hi, Rezan. Listen, c-can I use your phone? I'll call my mom and ask her to send me money for a bus ticket. Then I can get out of your hair."
He grinned slowly. "Well, we could do that. But how about you hold that thought till tomorrow? 'Cause tonight, I have a better idea. You ever heard the expression, the best revenge is doing fantastic?"
Well, she’d heard it as the best revenge was living well, but she guessed both came down to the same thing.
“Yeah,” she agreed doubtfully, because where was he going with this?
“Not that you want revenge or nothin’,” Rezan said quickly. “Hey, can I come in? Chilly as hell out here.”
It was chilly in the shade of the big pines. Not that it was much warmer in the cabin. But Manda moved aside, and let Rezan into the cabin.
She closed the door and perched on the edge of a kitchen chair, dabbing at her nose with a too-long sleeve. "I... what did you have in mind?"
"Whoa," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and waving his be-ringed hands at her. "Whatever you're thinking, no! It's nothing bad. It’s just... Tim’s like a brother to me, but a bratty kid brother, right?” He shook his head ruefully. “And the way I see it, he just done you wrong. I don’t like that, so I wanna help you out. To start with, how’s about I float you a loan? Just to get you back on your feet, just till you get a job.”
Manda opened her mouth and closed it. She bit her lip as it quivered. “That’s… that’s so sweet of you,” she said. And accepting meant she did not have to call her mother. “I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll get a job—I’ll get two jobs. And I’ll pay you back as soon as I get paid.”
He chuckled. “Of course you will. I know that. And you can stay here long as you need. Not like I got people beatin’ down the doors, right? Not till the place is fixed up, anyways.”
This was true. Manda nodded, relief flooding her. “Right. I can do some cleaning, too, if you give me the stuff. I’ll be happy to do that for you.” It would be like interest on his loan.
Rezan shrugged. “Sure, sure.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just had a great idea. I got this friend who might be able to help you get a job. He’s a local, got lots of connections. Knows a million people, you know?”
“Okay. How do I get in touch with him?”
Rezan’s eyes twinkled. "We-ell… would you believe, go out to dinner with him?"
Manda blinked. “Huh? You mean, like a blind date?”
Her revulsion for this idea clearly showed on her face, because Rezan waved his ringed hands, shaking his head. "Whoa, whoa, I see what you're thinking. But you are wrong! This guy's no reject. No, he's a great guy. Ain't sayin' he's good-lookin' or not, 'cause I ain't no chick. But big, buff and funny! I seen him tell jokes like you wouldn't believe. And he has a great job. Steady job. Lotsa friends. Nice guy. Women like him."
Okay, now she didn't get it. "Then why does he need a blind date?"
He gave her a look. "'Cause everybody needs a blind date sometimes! What, you tryin' to tell me you never been on one?"
She snickered. "Well... yeah, I have." Because he was right, who hadn't been on a few blind dates? Although in her experience, they never worked out.
Rezan smiled. "That's right! Everyone goes on blind dates. You meet new people, you try new things. You have fun."
He leaned forward, his smile taking on a comically evil edge. "And you know what's best of all? Huh?"
"Okay, what?" Although if he could find a ‘best of all’ thing about her situation, she was a monkey’s aunt.
He flipped his hands up, middle fingers pointing high. "You give a great big 'Fuck You!' to Timmy boy for running out on you. For making you think you ain't worth nothin'. Because you are, gorgeous. You are a fine girl, and you deserve to be treated that way. Huh? Huh?"
His charm was infectious, and somehow Manda found herself nodding, and then laughing along with him.
Rezan gave a whoop. "That's right! Now you go wash your face, dry them tears, and get yourself fixed up. I’ll call my buddy, tell him it’s a go for dinner.”
"Wait, what?" Manda lifted her hands palm out, shaking her head. "Rezan, no. Right now isn't a great time. I don't… Tim took off with everything I own. He has my duffle with all my clothes.”
She didn't even have shower supplies beyond a bar of soap and the last of a bottle of cheap shampoo.. He took it all. She just hoped he hadn’t taken the last of her self-respect too.
“I can’t really go on a ‘date’ looking like this,” she pointed out. “Maybe your friend could just meet me for coffee, or come here and talk?”
Rezan was on his feet, shaking his head. “Tim took all your stuff? That right there is low. And you know what? All the more reason to fuck him off. Now come on. It’s a loan, remember? Gonna get you all fixed up, make you feel pretty, let you have a good time. And I ain't takin' no for an answer."
Not that she exactly had a spine of steel at the best of times, but right now, after being buffeted by one of the most unpleasant punches that a woman can take, Manda let herself be swayed by the promise of at least a nice dinner, and a chance at a job.
Wasn't like she had anything to do here but sit and cry.
She had to figure out what to do next, and she would. If Rezan’s friend didn’t have a job for her, she'd walk to the nearest businesses and beg for work if she had to.
Or, she'd swallow her pride, grit her teeth, call her mom and beg to be allowed to come home, just until she could get back on her feet.
But for right now, it felt good to be taken care of.
And Rezan did. He cosseted her, tucking her into his shiny red Charger with black racing stripes, and drove her through the snow-lined streets of the small town, out into the wide valley with snowy fields and mountains in the distance.
They rolled southwest to I-90, and headed west along the Spokane River, running cold and dark in its icy banks. Although it was only four o'clock by the clock on the car dash, the sun was already sinking behind tall masses of heavy clouds clustered over the Washington border.
As they rounded a curve, Manda heard a deep rumble behind them, and turned to see a group of bikers on Harleys moving fast, streaming through the traffic as if it wasn't there.
The bikers themselves seemed as big and flashy as their bikes, in black leathers with masks aga
inst the cold, some of them with long hair streaming behind them.
One, she saw, was a woman, on her own motorcycle. Her red hair flew out behind her like a banner.
Manda shivered. "You have biker gangs up here too? She'd thought somehow this area was too remote for them.
Rezan was gazing after the bikers, a peculiar look in his eyes, but he nodded. "Yeah, we got bikers. You worried about that?"
"Well, yeah," she said. "In the Tri-Cities, the Prairies Rattlers? They were evil."
The gang seemed to have gone to ground last fall. There had even been a massive explosion and fire at their hangout that killed several of them. But before that they'd allegedly been responsible for murders, rapes and more. And who knew if they'd slither to life again?
"Yeah, heard about those dudes," Rezan said easily. "Bad news. But the bikers around here? Like night and day. Night. And. Day. The Flyers are a bunch of hard working guys who just love to party on the weekends, you know? Never have trouble with the cops, even."
"So they're more like a club?" she asked. "Not a gang?"
"That's right. You hit it—a club, yeah. Buncha family guys. Got kids, jobs, the works."
"Oh, that's nice. So, speaking of jobs, um, just how connected is your friend? What kind of a job do you think he can help me find? I mean, I can do lots of things—I’m not afraid of hard work."
He looked thoughtful. "Tim said you had a little trouble holding a job down there in the Tri."
Her face burned, and she ducked her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. "I—I got fired from my last job, at a paint store. I mixed up the names of two paints. Or, not the names, but the item numbers. On a big order."
Which was how home paints were commonly labeled. In fact, she'd sold a customer twenty custom-mixed gallons of 1675432 Deep Purple Haze instead of 1764533 Pearl Gray, worth hundreds of dollars.
The customer had been indignant, the store manager irate, and Manda swiftly found herself out of a job, with no references.
