by Cathryn Cade
Manda smiled around her mouthful of juicy apple. Wiping her fingers on the paper towel, she texted back. 'Im good. How r u?'
Chloe's reply was instant, as if her phone was handy on her desk. 'Crzy worried bout u, thats how!! Where r u?? Wuts with new #??' A screaming emoji this time.
Manda chuckled and winced at the same time. Chloe didn't believe in sparing the punctuation marks or emojis. And it was so-oooo nice to know someone was worrying about her, thinking of her. Felt like a hug across the miles.
But she hesitated before answering. Chloe was a worrier. She worried about her studies, her family, and she worried about her friends, including Manda.
Thus, Manda must be careful how much she shared, because if Chloe knew it all, she'd want to drive right up here and take Manda home with her. And that would not work. Chloe lived in a tiny apartment on the campus of her college in the outskirts of Portland, Oregon. She had very little money, and no extra time between work and study to rescue Manda.
'I'm good, honest!' Manda typed. 'Staying w frnds nr Spokane.'
'Wut?? No Tim? Shd I brk out the chmpgne & confetti??'
'No Tim,' Manda replied.
Chloe promptly blew up her phone with a string of dancing emojis and streams of virtual confetti, making Manda snort with laughter.
'No, tell me wht u rlly think!' she replied.
Her phone rang. Oops. She'd hoped to forestall an actual conversation with text. With a sigh, she answered the call. "Hi, Chlozone. I'm fine, so stop worrying."
"Fine?" her friend demanded. "Well, getting rid of that loser certainly put you a step in the right direction, but... now, if you and Tim broke up, why are you still in Spokane?"
Manda cringed. "Uh... he sort of took off and left me with—uh, one of his friends."
"What?" Chloe's voice lowered dangerously. "He dumped you in a strange town? And I presume he drove you up there, so you don't even have your car."
"True. But—"
"And what about this friend of his? Is he okay, or is he a loser like Tim?"
One could say Rezan Faro was far, far worse than Tim even thought of being. "Pretty much, but I'm not staying with him, so it doesn't matter. I'm—"
"Oh, my God! Are you, like, stuck trying to live at a mall or something? I saw that on a web article. Do you need me to come get you?"
Manda rubbed her forehead. "No! Chloe, listen. I'm fine, really. I'm staying with some really nice people."
"Oh. Well, that's cool... who are they?"
"They're, uh—they're a riding club," Manda said. "Yeah, so they have this really cool clubhouse, with rooms and a kitchen and everything. And I'm staying here, just till I get a job. Then I'll find my own place."
"Wait, what? A riding club, like horses? You don't even like horses."
"I like horses," Manda said defensively. "Everyone likes horses. They're beautiful and their noses are like velvet. But no, they don't ride horses. They ride motorcycles."
There was a short silence, then a gasp. "You're staying with a biker gang?" Chloe demanded, her voice rising. "Manda, that's bad, that's terrible! They'll-they'll give you drugs, and-and make you do things. Dirty things."
One of them already had. Except he hadn't made her, he'd made her want to do it.
"No, they won't. They're not like that. They really are a club, Chloe."
"Right. And who are they—the Spokane Angels or something?"
"The Flyers—because of the air force base nearby. They're nice people, Chlo, and T-Bear is the nicest of all."
"T-Bear? So this is about a guy? Oh, Manda."
"He’s a good guy. He looks like a big, ginger bear. And he's cuddly, too."
"Cuddly, huh? So that means you've already done the wild thing, huh? Geez, I haven't had any of that for months."
"I know," Manda sighed. "It was awesome." She had to squirm in her chair just thinking about it.
"But, sweetie, just be careful, okay? You thought Tim was awesome too, remember?"
Manda shook her head. "No. Not like this. Tim was never this sweet to me." Also, he’d never rescued her from peril, he'd dumped her straight into it.
"True. But that doesn't mean you need to be living with this biker guy already. I know I sound like a momma, but I love you. I don't want you to get hurt again. Just take your time, okay? Get your own place, and then see how it goes."
"I know," Manda said. "You're right. And that's what I'm going to do, pinky swear. I'm looking for jobs now. Soon as I get one, I'll find an apartment."
And she would. She might not be a scholar, but she wasn't a quitter either.
She unfortunately felt like a liar, though.
This situation with Rezan and Jere was the first big secret she'd kept from Chloe, and they'd been friends since freshman year in high school. They'd shared mom troubles, crushes on boys, breakups and more.
But this... no. Thus, feeling at once better and worse for talking with Chloe, Manda promised to call back soon, and ended the call with mingled relief and regret.
Next, Manda spent some time searching Spokane area job sites on her phone. This unfortunately was an exercise in frustration, because of the small screen. She needed a laptop. Would T-Bear have one? Probably not, but maybe someone else here did.
Not that she had the courage to ask any of his slightly scary brethren. Except maybe Streak—he seemed to like her okay.
She finished her apple, and drummed her fingers on the table. Crap, now she was bored. And when she was bored, she liked to cook. Recipes were hard because of the measurements, but she knew some good ones by heart.
She texted T-Bear. 'Ok for me to cook here? I saw some chicken in fridge. I could make u dinner.'
He didn't text back, he called. "Babe," he said, a smile in his deep voice. "You cook?"
She smiled back. "I like to cook. Do you think, uh, anyone would mind if I use the chicken? I could make my chicken-noodle-bake."
T groaned. "Me an’ my brothers mind a home-cooked meal? That's a big n-o, no. Go for it. Whatever you make, just make a lot."
"Okay. I can do that."
"Good. See ya in a couple hours. You want me to stop at the grocery store for anything, gimme a call. Otherwise, see you about five-thirty."
"Okay, see you."
She hummed to herself as she got busy. Searching the cupboards, and the big upright freezer beside the fridge, she found lots of noodles, frozen mixed veggies, and odds and ends of spices and flavorings.
This she knew how to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
* * *
At five twenty-seven, T walked into the clubhouse.
He had no trouble following his nose to the kitchen. Manda was there, making her chicken dinner. It smelled great, and she looked pretty as could be bustling around the big kitchen. She had her hair up in a messy bun with silky locks hanging down her right cheek and her nape, with a dish towel tied around her little waist.
The bad news was that a couple of the brothers were already there, sitting at the kitchen table drinking beer and watching her cook. Webb was fine, he was seventy if he was a day, with a balding head and a face deeply lined with the sorrows of life. He was also married to a woman still as feisty and jealous as when he was a young buck.
The other guy, who had his back to T, was a big dude with short brown hair and a Flyers' cut with the bottom rocker hidden by his wooden chair.
His hackles up, T nodded to Webb. Then T wasted no time striding across the kitchen and leaning over Manda's shoulder as she straightened from checking a baking dish in the oven. "Mm-hmm, now that smells awesome," he approved, taking a deep breath of woman and chicken in sauce.
She closed the oven door and turned to smile up at him, her face flushed with heat. "Hi. It's just chicken-noodle bake. Nothing fancy. It’ll be ready in a few."
He laid his hand on the curve of her hip. "Anything that smells like that, and you cooked it—who gives a shit if it’s fancy? I'm hungry, it'll suit me to a T." Then he waggled his brows at
her. "See what I did there?"
She shook her head, but she giggled. "Yeah, I see. So I need to know, do you eat salad? Because your brother Webb does, but your other brother Rav informed me 'not unless he was starving and that's all there was, which he ain't and it isn't, so no'."
At this, T turned and looked to the table in surprise. "Yeah, I'll eat whatever, babe," he told her, patted her absently, and then moved toward the newcomer, reaching out his right hand. "Rav? Shit, brother, I didn't recognize you without all that long hair. Whatcha doin' back here? Thought you were in the wind, nomad for good."
Rav rose, a slow smile sliding over his raw-boned, tanned face. He shook hands, his grip strong. "T, good to see you."
"You too, man. Lemme pop a beer, and I'll join you." T turned and made for the frig, where he grabbed a cold bottle of hefe and brought it back to the table. He popped the top, tossed the cap into the ashtray in the middle of the table, and took a long pull. "You been in the Dakotas, right?"
"I have," Rav said, leaning back in his chair. He wore a black tee with a howling wolf under his cut. "Spent the winter working security at a casino near Sturgis."
"The Black Wolf," T said, eying the shirt again. "Recognize the shirt. So, how'd you like working for the Wolves?"
Rav shrugged. "Not too bad. 'Cept they ain't Flyers."
"So, you didn't come back to let us know you're switchin' clubs?"
The other man's eyes narrowed. "Fuck, no. You tryin' to pick a fight with me, big man?"
T shrugged. "Not unless you'd said yes. Other'n that, glad to see you back. Been some changes around here, all good."
Rav's gaze flicked to Manda, and he smiled. "So I see. Club pussy that cooks, too—that's a good thing."
"Yeah, no." T set his bottle down sharply. "She ain't club pussy."
Rav looked back to him, his brows going up. "She yours?"
"She's under our protection," T said. "That means respect."
Rav shrugged. "Can't blame a man for tryin'. Although looks to me like she needs more protection than she’s gettin’.”
T scowled. “That’s why she’s here. Wasn’t a brother that done that to her.”
Rav nodded slowly. “Glad to hear it. That pretty redhead, Kit, still around?"
T grinned. "She is, but she's taken. Her old man's nomad, they live over in Coeur d'Alene."
"Damn. Who's she with, Jack Moran? I heard he claimed a woman."
"He did, an' they live over there too, but Kit's with Keys Younger." And Remi Redhawk, another good guy even if he wasn't a Flyer, but that was a story for another day.
Webb chuckled. "They ain't the only brothers to claim old ladies. Both the Vankos are taken."
"Jee-zus," Rav said slowly, his brows high. "Next you'll tell me Rocker's settled down to one woman—and we all know that ain't never gonna happen."'
Webb and T just looked at each other and laughed.
Rav stood, shaking his head. "That's it, I'm outta here. That shit's contagious around here. Must be in the water."
T guffawed. "No, it's the beer. And it's too late, 'cause you already drank some. So you might as well stay for supper. It’s gonna be awesome."
Moke walked in. "What's in the beer? I was gonna have some."
"You better worry," Rav told him. "'Cause you're single too."
Moke looked to T, who waved him off. "Never mind, bro. You had to be here."
* * *
Stick Vanko strode through the main room of the clubhouse . He nodded to Streak, who looked up from a thick book he was studying on the bar. Looked like a textbook . Stick filed this information away for later, and continued on, looking for the man he'd come to find.
Loud laughter echoed out of the kitchen. Stick stopped in the doorway.
The lights were on, savory smells wafting on the air. T's new woman was at the stove, that was good. Earning her keep here under their protection.
Webb, T-Bear, Moke and Rav sat at the table, beers in front of them. Rav looked up, and Stick jerked his head toward the meeting room. Rav rose immediately, and followed Stick around the corner of the wide hallway and into the meeting room, now empty and quiet.
"Close the door," Stick ordered. He turned and cocked one hip onto the edge of the long table, arms crossed. "What have you got for me?"
Rav crossed his own arms and rocked back on his heels, a big man in his thirties, and comfortable in his own skin.
"You know I spent the winter working security at the Wolves' Casino," he said.
Stick nodded.
"Well, that kind of job, a man sees a fuckuva lot. High rollers, losers, the whole gamut. The Wolves are running a tight operation, raking in the money."
"Ain't all theirs, though," Stick commented. "Way I hear it, one of the eastern tribes came in with big investment money, and they also take a big cut of the profits."
Rav nodded. "They do. So, the Wolves do all right, but they run businesses on the side."
Stick smirked. "We know."
Rav gave him a look of interest, but didn't ask, which was smart because as a nomad, Stick wouldn't share details with him. "There's other local operations running alongside the casino, too, as I'm sure you know."
"Whores and drugs," Stick said, without much interest. "So?" He wouldn't tolerate that shit, but the Wolves weren’t his club.
"So, a few weeks ago, I overheard a convo," Rav said. "Couple of guys in one of the private poker rooms. They'd been playing all night, drinking to match, or I don't guess they would've run their fat mouths there. I was out in the hallway, waiting to lock up the rooms for the night. Anyway, one of 'em asks when the first shipment is gonna show. I didn't think much of it, but then the other guy says 'Got a couple guys recruiting in Cali, one in Seattle.'
‘And by then, I figure out he's talking prostitutes. Now I'm listening for serious, 'cause if Chains is getting into that trade, I'm gone. But then the guy laughs and says 'I even got my cousin recruiting over in Spokane area. Course he's a dumb so-and-so who can't keep his hands off the merch, so his gals will likely show a little banged up'."
Stick went on the alert. "You get a name fpr this cousin?"
Rav grimaced. "Not sure, tell you the truth. Unless it's some kinda weird nickname. Raisin, or something like that?"
"Rezan," Stick corrected.
Rav looked to him, surprised. "Yeah, that was it. Fuck, you know this guy?"
Stick sighed. "Rezan Faro. Da, unfortunately, we do—know of him, that is. He’s the one roughed up the little blonde, Manda. She was in the hospital for three days."
Rav made a sound of disgust. "He have a chance to whore her?"
"No. T-Bear got her out. She was beat-up, but otherwise okay. So, you talk to Chains about this?"
Rav grimaced. "No. And here's why... these two ass-holes mentioned another name. Chaske Firewalker."
“Govno," Stick muttered. This was a new twist, and an unpleasant one. "Hawk's oldest son."
Chaske had just been here in Flyer territory, for the better part of two days and nights. Had he met with Faro while he was here? Was that why he'd come on the trip? And if so, did his father, the Black Wolves' veep, know about his son's ambition to be a pimp?
Finally, was the Wolves' offer to supply ammo to the Flyers intended merely as a smoke-screen for trips to pick up women? Spokane had been on the pipeline for transport before, and likely still was. But not through Flyer territory, by God.
"All right," Stick said. "Thanks, brother. This is good information."
"Glad I could help, anytime, anyway."
"You headed back to the Dakotas?"
Rav met his look straight on. "To tell you the truth, I'm ready to come home."
Stick smiled slightly. "Nomad wasn't all you thought it would be?"
Rav grinned, dipping his head to scratch his thick hair. "No, not really. Got fuckin' tired of having no one I could trust, you know? Can't really let down outside your own club, and the Flyer chapter in Sturgis, honest to God, they're more concerned about r
idin' around looking tough at Rally than anything else."
Stick chuckled. "I've noticed this. Listen, you want to stay for good this time, we can find a place for you at the table. The brothers will have to vote of course, but..."
But that was merely a formality in this case. Rav was well liked by most of the chapter, and he was good at his chosen profession, working security. Both made him an asset.
Rav's jaw tightened, and his eyes glistened. He nodded.
Stick rose, and clapped his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Welcome back."
* * *
Supper that Wednesday evening was a cordial affair.
Moke, T-Bear and Rav were there. Webb's equally skinny, but startlingly blonde and bejeweled wife Velvet joined them. She was outspoken , funny and fussed over her man, which Manda thought was sweet. She also treated the younger Flyers like overgrown teens, which was hilarious.
And she complimented Manda's cooking, which was just plain nice.
Manda's hot dish, sprinkled with crispy bits of potato chips, and oozing gooey goodness, was a hit. The huge baking dish soon emptied, along with the salad, which had come from a bag of mix, and the basket of rolls warmed in the oven.
Rav seemed nice, although he had a certain look in his gray eyes that made Manda glad she sat beside T for supper. Not mean, but somehow wolfish.
Afterward, about seven by the vintage round clock on the kitchen wall, loud voices were heard in the main room, and the music volume went up.
"Thanks for supper," Moke said to her, and rose to leave.
T put a hand on Manda's thigh and gave it a warm squeeze that she felt through her jeans, not painful but it stayed with her all the same. She remembered he'd touched her that way on their 'date'. "I'm gonna head out there and talk for awhile ," he said. "You wanna come with?"
"No, thanks," she told him. "I'll wash the dishes, clean up my mess." Then she'd go hang out in her borrowed room. She was still leery of ‘hanging out’ with T’s brothers in groups.
Velvet rose. "C'mon, honey," she said in her cigarette roughened voice. "Let's you and me clean up together. You cooked, I'll wash anything that can’t go in the dishwasher."
