by Dez Burke
Toby curls a hand around my upper arm and tries to tug me toward the stairs. I don’t budge and lean in closer so Leona can’t hear me.
“Give me my damn phone back,” I say. “You can’t expect me to let you take it.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “You obviously don’t know much about the Steel Infidels, do you? If you did, you would know that yes, I can take whatever I want, when I want. You’ll get it back when the time is right. Not before. Unless you want to leave right now? If that’s the case, I’ll gladly have Jodi walk you to the gate. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re not welcome here. We didn’t invite you in. By the way, how in the world did you manage to trick Leona into bringing you inside?”
I frown at him. It ticks me off that he thinks I conned an old lady.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say defensively. “She came up to me and offered to bring me inside to get out of the cold. That’s it. She recognized me from the news. What is up with your attitude?”
His hostile blue eyes stare down into mine. He doesn’t like me. I can feel his distaste and can’t help but wonder why. What did I ever do to him?
For a second, we stand there staring at each other in a stand-off, neither one wanting to give an inch.
“Are you going upstairs with me or leaving?” he finally asks. “Make up your mind now, woman. I haven’t got all day.”
Phone or no phone, being inside the clubhouse with the Steel Infidels is better than being out on the other side of the fence with the herd of reporters doing nothing.
“I’ll stay,” I say without hesitation.
“Suit yourself then,” Toby says. “I’m keeping your phone. They’re waiting for you upstairs.”
He ushers me up a narrow staircase and into a small office on the second floor. The room is barely furnished with a small table and a few wooden straight chairs. Three men are sitting at the table. They all glance up when we walk in.
I recognize Sam from yesterday and the other guy who practically dragged Toby out of the food court. The third man I’ve never seen before. He stands up and holds out a hand to me to shake.
“I’m Jesse, President of the Steel Infidels,” he says, giving my hand a firm shake. He points to Sam. “This is Sam, who I believe you’re already met.”
Sam throws up a hand in greeting.
“And our other brother, Flint, the VP.”
Flint nods at me without smiling.
I notice Jesse and Flint are the spitting image of each other, except Jesse is older and quite a bit more muscular. He’s big and intimidating. They both have dark brown, almost black hair, and are strikingly handsome.
Sam is smaller and covered in tattoos running down both arms. With his blue eyes and blond hair, he clearly inherited his looks from a different side of the family. There’s something about his eyes that remind me of Leona’s.
So they’re all brothers…Jesse, Flint, and Sam.
I wonder how Toby fits in with the group and how he became involved with the Steel Infidels.
“Where’s your phone?” Jesse asks. “We’ll need to take it for now.”
“I’ve already got it,” Toby answers, patting his pocket. “I grabbed it before she had a chance to take photos. She wasn’t inside two minutes before she was going for her phone. I don’t know what your Aunt Leona was thinking bringing her in.”
Jesse stares at me without speaking. He’s dangerous. I can feel the scary vibes coming off him. It makes me uneasy.
“Did you take any photos inside the clubhouse?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.”
He turns to Toby. “Check her phone,” he orders.
Toby pulls my phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Type in the passcode,” he says.
“Are you crazy?” I ask. “I’m not letting you prowl through my phone. There’s personal stuff on there.”
Toby grins. “Nude photos?” he asks. “Or maybe you’ve been sexting your boss at work? I can’t wait to see this.”
“All we want to do is check for photos of us,” Jesse reassures me. “Type in the passcode and give Toby back the phone.”
For the first time, I’m realizing the Steel Infidels are for real. Not a fictional group of men who ride motorcycles through the mountains on the weekends as a hobby. Or men who hang out at a clubhouse occasionally to drink and play pool. These are men in a real-life motorcycle gang that I know absolutely nothing about.
They could be criminals for all I know.
Probably are.
Drug dealers or pimps.
Criminals who happened to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
If they didn’t have anything to hide, they wouldn’t have all run so fast from the scene.
And now here I am.
Alone with four of them in a room by myself.
Smart move, Maggie.
What was it that Toby just said to me? That he could take anything he wanted, whenever he wanted? Just because he didn’t try anything earlier this morning doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t.
If I yelled, would anyone hear me or even care? Leona might. Then again, Jodi made a point of taking her off somewhere else in the clubhouse.
My heart starts beating faster. Taking a deep breath, I type in my passcode and reluctantly hand the phone back over to Toby.
“Smart girl,” he says.
I stand there quietly while he flips through my phone.
“I see a few photos of my house on here,” he says. “I’m going to delete those. If I ever get a hint that you’re taking photos of where I live again, you won’t have a phone left. Do you understand?”
His eyes are hard and cold. Not a flicker of warmth in them now. He’s furious with me.
“I wasn’t going to use them for anything,” I say in defense. “I swear.”
He isn’t convinced. “Why did you take them then?”
I shrug. “Mostly out of habit,” I reply.
“Are there any photos inside the clubhouse?” Jesse asks.
“Not that I can see,” Toby replies. “The last photo was taken outside the gates.”
“I told you I didn’t take any.”
“We’ve learned that it always pays to double check,” Jesse says. “Now that we’ve got that cleared up, why don’t you take a seat.” He waves a hand at the table.
When I hesitate, Flint stands up and politely pulls out a chair for me.
“There’s nothing for you to be afraid of,” Jesse reassures. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
I laugh as if the thought is ridiculous. Never let them see you sweat is my motto.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” I say. “Half the nation’s media saw me walk inside here. And you guys are heroes. I’m honored to meet you. Truly, I am.” I’m babbling nervously now.
All four men stare back at me without speaking. Toby rubs the tiny spot of beard on his chin.
They’re making me uncomfortable.
What is going on here?
13
Maggie
When the silence stretches to an unbearable length, I walk over to the table and sit down. Toby settles down into the wooden chair beside me. We’re so close our legs are touching under the table. I move my legs away and Toby shifts, moving his so that they’re still touching mine.
“Obviously we weren’t expecting you to show up in the clubhouse,” Flint says. “But now that you’re here, there’s something that we want to run by you. A proposal of sorts. It could be a good deal for you if you’re willing to agree to our terms. Please hear me out before you say anything one way or the other.”
My ears perk up. I’m very interested in what he’s about to say.
He waves his hand toward the window.
“We’re in over our heads with the media circus out there. This is way beyond what we expected. We need someone to help us navigate the press. Someone who knows and understands these things. We’re aware that there will be lots of things said and written ab
out the Steel Infidels that simply aren’t true. The media is going to try to dig up every last bit of dirt they can find on us. The worse things they can find, the better the story. We’re not stupid. We know how it works.”
I nod my head to show him that I’m following his line of thought. Everything he’s saying is true.
He leans forward and spreads his hands out on the table.
“The truth is we’re good guys,” he continues. “Sure, some of us have beards and a few too many tattoos. We realize that can be a little scary and off-putting to some people. That’s just our style. It doesn’t mean we’re criminals.”
“I personally don’t have anything against tattoos,” I say.
In fact, I suddenly seem to have a fascination with tattoos. Particularly the ink covering the tanned arm barely touching mine. I wonder about the stories behind Toby’s tattoos and if I’ll ever have a chance to find out. He doesn’t seem to be the sharing kind, so I doubt it.
“That’s good to know,” Flint says with a quick, charming smile. “The members of the Steel Infidels also own several successful businesses. We do charity rides every spring. In the past, we raised over $20,000 for a wildlife rescue center here in Bardsville. My wife, Kendra, is a veterinarian, and she runs the place.”
Okay, that surprises me.
“We’re very involved in the community and don’t want any bad publicity to come to our beautiful town because of us. We know the media isn’t going away, so we need someone to help us manage what gets put out there. Since you’re already involved, we were hoping you might consider helping us.”
“Me?” I echo in surprise. “Why me?”
The question pops out before I think. Who cares why?
Flint smiles again. “You’re a reporter, aren’t you? And you were with us yesterday. You saw and heard everything the same as we did. Who better? You’re local too, right here in the state. We would feel more comfortable working with you than a news anchor from ABC or one of the bigger networks.”
“Have they already contacted you?” I ask.
“ABC Nightly News? Yes, along with several other major media outlets. Even television shows in the UK, Mexico, Australia, and Japan. The calls keep coming in. We’re out of our league here. What do you say? Do you want to work with us?”
I’m shocked. This could turn out much better than I expected.
“What exactly are you proposing that I do?”
“We’ll give you the first exclusive interview,” Flint says. “When the press finds out we’ve already contracted with a specific media outlet, maybe they’ll back off. That’s what we’re hoping for anyway.”
I almost fall out of my chair. Instead I smile back at him.
“I would love the opportunity,” I say, trying not to reveal how excited I am. “If Toby will hand me my phone, I’ll call my boss at the station so he can set aside a time slot for the interview to air.”
Toby snorts and then bursts out laughing.
I glance over at him in confusion. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Just that I told the guys you would try to run right over us if we gave you an inch, and here you go. Zero to ninety in two seconds. You haven’t even asked what our conditions are.”
“What conditions?”
Toby tilts his head at me.
“See what I mean?” he says.
“There are a few conditions before you agree,” Flint says. “You might not like them.”
I shift in my chair and cross my legs. In the process, I accidentally kick Toby with my shoe. “Oh sorry,” I say automatically, trying to move my leg away from him under the table. He slides a possessive warm hand down my thigh and holds my leg still without looking at me. I try to ignore it.
“Okay, let’s hear your conditions,” I say. “I’m flexible.”
“I just bet you are,” Toby says under his breath while stroking my knee with his thumb.
Irritated, I try to push his hand firmly off my leg. He’s distracting me. He grips my thigh tighter. I stop fighting him, realizing that he’s only trying to aggravate me. Ignoring his juvenile tactics is the best option.
At this point, I’m realizing I don’t like Toby much either. What happened to the guy I met yesterday? Maybe he wasn’t real and was only a figment of my overactive imagination brought on by a horrifying event.
This Toby is rude.
And crude.
The twinkling eyes, bulging muscles, and interesting tattoos can’t make up for a serious lack of class.
“For starters, you must work alone,” Flint says. “We’re not agreeing to a cameraman until we say he can join you. And you have to give up your cell phone when you’re with us. It’s the standard club rule for all outsiders.”
I shake my head. “No way! I’m not agreeing to those conditions. I can’t possibly work without my cell phone. And I need it to access the Internet for research purposes.”
“Why would you need to do research if you’re personally interviewing us?” Toby asks. “Isn’t that the whole point? To get our side of the story? If you’re researching the Steel Infidels on the Internet, then your opinion becomes biased, if it isn’t already.”
He has a valid point.
“I’m not going to make a fool out of myself by doing an interview without fact-checking before it goes on the air,” I say. “My career would be ruined if I did something that stupid. I could lose my job.”
“That’s not what we’re suggesting,” Flint says calmly. “After the interview is finished and we sign off on it, then you’ll be free to do your fact-checking before it goes live.”
This sounds like a win-win to me.
If I find out they’re manipulating me, I’ll re-work the tapes and run whatever I want.
“Wait,” I say when his words start to sink in. “What exactly do you mean by sign off on it?”
“If you want to run the story, you’ll need our sign off on approval first,” Flint explains. “If you decide not to run the piece, then you can kill it. What we won’t allow you to do is change it substantially without our permission. We need final approval on anything you put on the air about the Steel Infidels.”
“Last time I checked, that’s not the way reporting works,” I say.
Toby leans back in his chair and crosses his muscular arms. I wonder how he finds shirts with sleeves big enough for his arms to fit through.
“This is a ridiculous waste of time,” he says.
“Maggie can take the deal or leave it,” Flint says. “It’s the only way we’ll agree to being interviewed. I’m an attorney, so the agreement will be legal and binding. If you break it, we’ll sue your ass off. And we’ll need a separate non-disclosure agreement signed as well.”
Flint’s a lawyer? I didn’t see that one coming either.
I should have suspected something was off, especially with the smooth, calm way he presented their offer to me. I’ve been thinking they’re nothing but a bunch of hillbilly redneck bikers.
There is much more to the Steel Infidels than what I ever imagined.
I need to be more careful.
What they’re suggesting is ludicrous. I’ve never let a source sway my story. Then again, I’ve never had this kind of opportunity either. A chance to do something really big that will make the national news stations.
It’s not the first time for a journalist to agree to restrictions on an interview. Sean Penn went into the jungle to interview El Chapo for Rolling Stone Magazine. I’m sure El Chapo placed many restrictions on what he could ask about or see while he was there.
Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.
Which, in this case, is the bigger story.
I consider their offer carefully then nod at the three brothers watching me intently from the other side of the table.
“I’m all yours, gentlemen,” I say. “When do we start?”
14
Toby
“Damn!” I mutter under my breath.
Flint’s plan is fucked up.
I thought he was smarter than this. Just because I saved Maggie’s life doesn’t mean that she’s blind to my flaws. He’s hoping that if Maggie hangs around us for a couple of days, then she’ll see the Steel Infidels in a positive light and be willing to do an interview slanted our way.
Right now, everyone wants to see us as a bunch of fucking heroes.
Because that’s what they want to believe.
Even Maggie.
It’s a stupid plan and too quickly put together for it to make sense. We panicked when Leona brought Maggie inside the clubhouse, and this idiotic idea is the result.
First, Jesse was threatening everyone not to run their mouth off to the press, and now they want to work with Maggie.
I’m confused as hell.
All it would take is one tiny slipup for her to catch on to us. Sure, we’re a motorcycle club of family men with wives, children, and adoring aunts. We also have a huge gun-running and bootleg alcohol operation going.
Over the years, the Steel Infidels have been involved in numerous motorcycle gang shoot-outs with casualties on both sides.
We’re no fucking angels.
We’ve been under investigation by federal and state agencies for various suspected activities. Most of their suspicions were true. A few activities we were charged for, and others we walked away free from.
Even if the interview goes perfectly, as soon as she gets back out in the real world, Maggie is going to know that she’s been had.
I don’t want to be anywhere near her when that happens. Especially not if it screws with her precious career.
“Where do we start?” she asks again.
Flint waves a hand at me.
“You’ll need to stick with Toby,” he says. “If you want to call someone like your family or your boss, he’ll lend you one of our phones. If there’s anywhere you want to go, he’ll drive you.”
