The Devil’s Chopper_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Inferno Hunters MC

by Zoey Parker

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I have to go out for a little while so I can pick up something.”

  “You’re leaving?” I asked, standing up. My heart took off at a gallop.

  “Just for a little while. I have some stuff to take care of, like getting clothes. I have to talk to my guys about club things. And I thought I could pick up some food, too. You’re running a little low.”

  I thought about my nearly empty wallet. “I don’t have money for a lot of things, so just the basics, please.”

  “Like I was gonna charge you,” he said with a smirk. “Come on.”

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “Please. Don’t pity me.”

  “I don’t pity you. Damn it.” He glanced at Isabella, who shook her head.

  “That’s a swear word,” she said, shaking her finger.

  I bit my lip to hold back a smile. “He’s a grown up, honey. He can say what he wants.” I turned back to him. “Though it would be nice if he could hold back a little.”

  “That was holding back,” he growled. “You don’t know what I really wanna say to you right now. You’re lucky she’s here.”

  “Oh, is that it? I’m lucky?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Maybe you’re the one who’s lucky she’s here, so I could tell you a thing or two about how I don’t like it when people tell me what to do and how to feel. I don’t need pity or charity.”

  “Which. This. Isn’t.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Do me a favor and text me a list of things to buy from the store, okay?” He pulled his leather vest off the armchair, sliding it on.

  “Ooh! Are you gonna ride your motorcycle now?” Isabella asked.

  I frowned. “How do you know he rides a motorcycle?”

  “I told her,” he said. “Was I not supposed to do that? Is it bad?”

  “Cut it out,” I muttered just low enough for him to hear me but not her. “You’re not amusing.”

  He turned to Isabella rather than answering me. “Yeah, I’m gonna ride my motorcycle. Maybe I’ll let you ride with me sometimes, if your Mommy isn’t too mean to let you.”

  Oh, that son of a bitch. “That’s enough. Go. Do what you have to do.” I pushed him toward the door.

  “If you don’t tell me what to buy, I’m gonna come back with nothing but sugary cereal and soda. It’s up to you.” He left, chuckling to himself. I wanted to slap the snide attitude out of him. The nerve!

  I turned back to my daughter, who was totally enamored of him the way only a child could be. He was big and interesting, different from anyone else in her life.

  “Is he gonna come back?” she asked.

  “Yes, honey. Whether I like it or not, I think he’s gonna come back.” At least he’d left before my mother showed up. I thanked God for small favors as I took a shower, then convinced Isabella to change out of her favorite nightgown. At least she wasn’t begging me to let her watch the movie for the ten millionth time. Another small favor.

  By the time mom showed up, Isabella was coloring while I read a book. Funny how little pleasure reading I’d managed to get done after leaving Connor. I’d lost so much of myself, both to him and then after I left. When I opened the door for mom to enter, I laughed at the sight of two grocery bags.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked as I took the bags so she could hug Isabella.

  “Nothing. It’s a long story. Thank you for the food,” I said. I went to the kitchen to unload, then texted Parker that I already had more than enough food thanks to my mother. He asked what she’d brought, and I gave him the brief rundown, though I didn’t think he needed to know, particularly. He didn’t reply. I thought he might have felt a little insulted that he couldn’t prove his masculinity by providing food for his weak little females.

  “You want a cup of tea?” I asked, smiling to find a box of chai tea bags in with the rest of the haul.

  “Yes, please. Lots of milk.”

  I went about heating the water while I put away the rest of the food. Lots of spaghetti—the one thing we knew Isabella loved to eat. Cereal, tuna, bread, milk, chicken, rice…lots of staples, plus fresh and frozen veggies and a bunch of bananas. I thought we would do okay for a while with everything she’d bought.

  “You really didn’t have to do that,” I said, sitting down with her and handing her one of two mugs. “I mean it.”

  “Would you just accept someone taking care of you for once? You know you like it. Just admit it.” I wondered how she would feel if she knew how much she sounded like a certain biker I happened to know.

  “Okay. Thank you. I just hate to think of everybody’s lives thrown around because of Connor.”

  “That’s not your fault. You’re making the only choice you can make.”

  “Hey, Grandma,” Isabella said from her spot on the floor. She was on her stomach, coloring away. “Do you know Parker?”

  My heart sank. I should have told her not to mention him—then again, I didn’t want to teach her to be a liar. Mom looked at me, eyebrows raised. “No, dear,” she said, eyes locked with mine. “I don’t know Parker. Tell me about him.”

  “Mom…” I said. She held up a hand to silence me.

  “Well.” Isabella sat up, legs crossed, to count off Parker’s attributes one at a time on her little fingers. “He’s a big giant man. He’s funny. He likes mommy’s meatballs like I do. Um…he rides a motorcycle.”

  “He does? That’s interesting.” Mom kept smiling, but I heard the sinister note in her voice.

  “And he stayed with us last night, but he had stuff he had to do.” Her job complete, my daughter went back to coloring. She couldn’t have done a better job of sinking me if she’d tried.

  “Well, he sounds like a very nice person,” Mom said. Her smile was tight. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” She was off the sofa and on her way without waiting for me to reply.

  I dragged my feet like a woman on her way to the electric chair. That might be better than what Mom will give me, I thought.

  “Is this the one you told me about?” Mom whispered angrily.

  “Yes,” I said. “He’s the one. He looked for me at the diner yesterday, and Sandy gave him the address.”

  “You should have a few words with Sandy,” Mom advised. “Like about privacy, and how you don’t appreciate people violating yours like that.”

  “Yes, Mom. I know.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you know. And don’t roll your eyes at me, I swear.” I looked at the floor instead, feeling for all the world like a kid who got caught breaking curfew. “What sort of example is this for your daughter?”

  “Mom, please. I can’t take this right now. He didn’t stay over to sleep with me, for God’s sake.” Mom scoffed, clearly offended by my bluntness. “It’s true. It’s not like he came over and I said, ‘Hey, baby, I’m single, let’s do it.’ He came over to check and make sure we were okay. He thought it was a big red flag when I didn’t go to work and, yes, Sandy should have kept my address to herself, but I can’t change that. All I know is I slept well last night.” I didn’t tell her it was because we had, in fact, slept together.

  “You know what else?” I continued. “I felt better. Safer, for the first time all week. Funny, huh? In the presence of an outlaw. I felt safe and protected, and I felt even better knowing that he would take a bullet for my child. Isabella laughed and laughed when we ate dinner together. She felt safe, too. I know she’s just a little kid, but you know how she picks up on things. She’s not stupid. She knows something is wrong, or else why wouldn’t I let her go to school? She never once asked me about it this morning.”

  “That’s good, at least,” Mom said.

  I could tell it killed her to admit she was wrong, so I didn’t wait for her to say it. “He just wants to help. Like you said, I have to learn how to accept help when it comes to me.”

  “I didn’t mean from people like him,” she pointed out, her voice sour.

  “You don’t know him,” I said. “And I know t
hat sounds like my typical response. Especially when you had a problem with Connor. I was wrong then, but I’m not wrong now. Jesus, I’m not talking about marrying the man. Just letting him help me, because I need all the help I can get.”

  “You don’t think he’ll…kill him, do you?” Her eyes were wide.

  “No. I wouldn’t want him to, though he wants to.”

  Mom gasped. “Ellie!”

  “Come on. Haven’t you wanted to? When I told you everything that happened?”

  “Well, yes, but I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

  “We can’t assume he would either. Just relax. It’ll be okay.” I wasn’t sure how, but it had to be. It just had to be. “In the meantime, let’s put this behind us and enjoy the rest of the day with Isabella. I don’t want her thinking there’s anything to be afraid of, especially from Parker. I need her to trust him.”

  “Whatever you say,” Mom said, much in the way she would have delivered the line, “It’s your funeral.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. Like I didn’t have enough on my plate.

  “Hey, Mama?” Isabella finished her picture, bringing it to me.

  “That’s beautiful, sweetheart. You’re such a great artist. You wanna hang it on the fridge with the others?”

  She gave me a shy grin, ducking her head. “No. I wanna give it to Parker. Can I?”

  “Sure, honey. When he gets back.” I kissed the top of her head, deliberately avoiding my mother’s scornful gaze. Yes, I knew how dangerous it was for my little girl to become too attached to him, but there was nothing else I could do. If I had any hope of the next however many days going smoothly, she had to like Parker. Otherwise, she’d only heap a lot more trouble onto an already crappy situation.

  Chapter 17

  Parker

  The last thing I thought I would see when I came out of the bedroom was the kid. I was glad Ellie had caught me before I made up a stupid bullshit story about how I…did something that meant I had to be in the bedroom instead of on the couch.

  I was glad for the ride on my bike, too. I needed to clear my head, and riding was the only thing that ever really did it for me. The night with Ellie had been good—better than good. It had been the first night since I lost Kelly that I had felt really happy with a woman. Not, like, cheesy romance happy. Not the kind of happy that only happened in movies. But real happiness. Comfort. Connection. I didn’t know how much I’d missed it until I had it again.

  I didn’t know how much I had missed my clubhouse until I pulled up in front of it either, and I had only been away a day. Less than a day. How was it possible that so much had happened in so short a time? It felt like weeks instead of hours.

  From the number of bikes out front, I could tell most of the club had spent the night in the bedrooms we kept on the second and third floors. It was always safer to give the guys a place to sleep it off after a good party. We were already in enough trouble with the law. We didn’t need the guys getting themselves arrested or God forbid killing somebody. Or themselves.

  When I walked through the front door, all I could smell was vomit. “Oh shit,” I said, holding my nose. “Who the fuck puked in here?” I looked around, and the sight of club members and groupies stretched out over every flat surface made me laugh and cringe at the same time. I had missed a hell of a party. I wasn’t sure if I was jealous or glad.

  Hook was asleep on the pool table, a blonde whose name I didn’t know in his arms. She wasn’t wearing a top, and her big, fake tits spilled out. Benny had fallen asleep with a woman’s hand down his pants, the woman on top of him. Like they had been in the middle of making out or more before they both passed out. I saw Mason stretched out on the couch in Ryder’s office, and I went there to talk to him. I didn’t care about waking him up—I looked forward to it, actually.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned when I shoved him. “What the hell happened?”

  “I was gonna ask you the same thing,” I said, snorting with laughter. “It looks like the last fucking days of Rome out there. And it reeks of puke. We’re gonna have to get a cleaning crew out here to take care of the smell.”

  “Nah, have a couple of the prospects do it. That’s what they’re for.” He had a point, and I shrugged it off. I stepped back, letting him slowly sit up like he was testing to make sure sitting up was even a good idea. “Holy hell. I can’t believe we partied that hard, man.”

  “I was thinking the same damn thing. I guess when you’re sober, you see things clearer.” I leaned against Ryder’s desk. “Where’s the big man, anyway?”

  “Upstairs. I saw him go up there with Candace early on in the night.”

  I nodded. He would never have cheated on his old lady. Candace was a patient woman, but she told him straight-up that she’d cut his balls off if she ever found out he cheated on her with one of our regular girls. That got me thinking.

  “What about Lisa and Hannah? You have fun with them?”

  Mason groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face, then looking at them in horror. “Oh fuck. Did I even wash my hands after?”

  “Oh, come on. You’re fucking sick.”

  He stumbled to the bathroom just off of Ryder’s office, washing up, then washing his face. He came back in, hair slicked back. “I feel a little more human now,” he said. “Yeah, they drained the life outta me.”

  “So both at once, huh?”

  “It was either that or let one of ’em go off with Benny. He’s a good guy and I’m glad he’s in the club now, but I’ll be fucked if I let him take one of them away from me.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, Benny’s not in that league yet. Maybe one day, when both balls drop.” He was sorta the club mascot in a way, the young, skinny kid who nobody would thought would patch into a club like the Inferno Hunters. Looks deceived. He always came through when we needed him, and could be just as tough and cold as any of us.

  “What about you, man? Where have you been? You didn’t say last night…or maybe I just don’t remember.”

  “Y’all have to rethink starting parties in the afternoon.” I laughed. “I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

  “Yeah, well, whatever. I’ll put it to the vote during the next meeting.” He leaned back, one hand over his eyes like it hurt just to see the light. “So? Where were you?”

  “Remember the waitress from the diner?”

  “How could I forget? Tits and ass for days, brother.”

  I held back the urge to knock him around for saying shit like that, since he didn’t know what went on between us. I wouldn’t have cared if he said it about Lisa or Hannah, though, and I had fucked the shit out of them, too. More than once. What did that mean?

  “I was there.”

  “At the diner?”

  “No, at her apartment.”

  Mason raised his hand, looking at me. “So, what, you’re seeing her now or something? Is she gonna be your new old lady?”

  “Don’t go that far,” I said. “I’m not even seeing her. I was there to keep her and her kid safe.” I gave him the quick-and-dirty story, finishing with, “And that’s where you come in. Ryder gave me the idea that if he’s such a crotch to his wife and probably all women, he’s probably that way all over the place. Including in his business.”

  “So you think he’s probably doing some shady business?” he asked.

  “What do you think? It’s likely, right?”

  “I think it’s more than likely. I think he’s probably doing more than just giving people money for charity. He’s probably fucking with the books, laundering, doing all kinds of shady shit. I mean, you talk about them living in a big place, and he’s got all this money. At his age? I saw the guy leave the diner. He couldn’t be older than you.”

  “That’s it, right? I thought that, too. Why’s he so successful, so young? What if he’s doing one of those, whaddya call ’em schemes?”

  “A Ponzi scheme?” Mason snickered.

  “Something like that. Maybe not that, exactly, but something li
ke it. Like the way those assholes got rich right before the housing market collapsed. They collected high commissions off of shit loans. I’m sorry, but that’s the only way a person could all of a sudden get as rich as him. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”

  “Did Ellie say anything about that?”

  “No, just that he went from being a grad school student to having a ridiculous career in, like…” I did the math, “…three years.”

  “That’s weird. Okay. I’ll look into him. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, though.”

  “Anything. Find out the clients his firm handles, I guess. Find out what they’re all about. There has to be some sort of whispering going on somewhere. We’re near Flagstaff, but we’re not Flagstaff. We’re still a small town. Word gets around.”