Owner of a Lonely Heart (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  “Big-eyed kids?” Taos eyed the kitchen suspiciously.

  “It’s just a form of speech. Listen, Taos. Why don’t you practice your new patter on the sheriff here? Introduce yourself.”

  Taos pointed at Crispin. “Do I call him ‘sheriff,’ too? Or ‘Bob’ or whatever his real name is?”

  Bettina said, “No, he’s got to be Sheriff Marwick because everyone knows who he is. He’s just another friend of the family, like I am. Go ahead, Taos. Tell Marwick who you are.”

  Taos faced Crispin squarely, looking supremely unsure of himself. He was doing a bang-up job of covering his insecurity with swagger, though. “I’m Taos Hopewell from El Paso, Texas. I owned my own surf shop there, but the economy ruined it.”

  “Is that so?” said Crispin. “So you’re hoping to start up a new surf shop? There’s not much surfing on Lake Mead. There’s windsurfing, but there’s already a shop here in town. I wouldn’t advise trying to compete.”

  Crispin could tell Taos wasn’t used to swallowing his pride. Again, Crispin felt for the guy. He knew what it was like, having your entire life yanked from underneath you. “Well, I was going to apply for a job there. You probably know the owner, a Mike Stanfill?”

  “I know Mike,” Crispin allowed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to introduce poor Mike to this hoodlum, but by law he was required to assist the marshal. And her job was to help the hoodlum. “I can introduce you, if you can convince him you’re an expert on windsurfing.”

  Bettina leaped into action. “That’s where the computer comes into play. Come on.” The trio went down the hallway and into one of the bedrooms. “Now listen, Taos. We can’t monitor your computer without just cause. We’re going to have to trust that you’re not going to try and get in touch with anyone from your past. No checking out their Facebook profiles or e-mailing anyone. I’ll get our office manager to set you up a Gmail account under Taos Hopewell. But for now you can at least brush up on your surfing jargon. Porn-surf at your own risk. There is no such thing as free porn—you’ll pay for it later by crashing your computer, so buy it at the porn store like everyone else does.”

  She showed Taos a plain and simple desk where a cheap all-in-one was already humming. The one window framed a view of the neighbor’s awning that shielded a garden gnome from the sun. Taos sat down and tapped the spacebar and the computer flickered into life, displaying the aggravating tiles of Windows 8. Taos immediately double-clicked on the Internet browser and googled a few things.

  Crispin asked Bettina, “How’s he going to explain to everyone he meets why he has no friends?”

  Bettina said, “He’s got me. I’m a friend of his cousin’s, and I recommended this town. Once you buy a new bike, Taos, you can ride down to the lake and see the beauty I’m talking about.”

  Taos looked up at Crispin. He knew to put “Lake Mead” in quotes when googling, and he had already landed on a forum about windsurfing there. “You know, I was kind of hoping you guys would help me make new friends.”

  It was such an innocent, naïve thing to say, Crispin’s heart melted again. Then he remembered that the biker was probably just manipulating him, so he said, “I wouldn’t wish you on my worst enemies.”

  But his heart wasn’t in it.

  Chapter Four

  Bettina was glad to see the sleek, muscular new Harley parked on the side lot of the windsurfing shop. No logos were displayed anywhere on it, the paint was standard, and there was nothing custom about it. Nothing made it stand out in the slightest from the other Harley Dyna Street Bob with ape hangers that was parked next to it. And the one next to that.

  Wait a minute. Rage began to well up in Bettina’s gut before she’d even formulated the idea in her mind. Since when did Mike Stanfill, or any windsurfers for that matter, ride motorcycles? She supposed it was possible, but she’d stopped by four or five times to say hi to Taos in the past two weeks since he’d started working here, and never once had she seen other hogs nearby. Now there were three in a row?

  She stormed into the shop smiling woodenly, trying to hide her anger from strangers. She was supposed to be some vague friend of Taos’s family, believable since he was only three years younger than her. Luckily, Mike Stanfill was nowhere in sight, but Taos was talking to two dubious-looking young men. They both wore black leather jackets with no patches, and their indoor shades cast even more suspicion. Taos’s Great Pyrenees dog, Friendly, came up to her to be petted. The beautiful Friendly was spoiled, being Taos’s last connection to his old life. Taos had no siblings, but the hardest to give up were some of his club brothers whom he did not wish to implicate in the indictment. The Attorney General seemed satisfied that the one they called Sirius would be the kingpin who could bring down others.

  She pretended to be interested in a windsurfing harness. Hmm. It actually did take Bettina’s mind off the low, mumbled conversation the men were having. She had done a little bondage in her life. Knowing her personality all too well, of course she’d been the Dominatrix. She had to admit to herself that since meeting Taos, all sorts of lewd and forbidden images had been entering her mind.

  He was alone. He was lonely, except for the brassy and colorful hookers of Rescue. Bettina knew she was a thousand cuts above that. She also knew it was forbidden to enter into a sexual relationship with a witness. Many agents still did it, no one the wiser. After all, they were experts at living double lives.

  There was something about Taos that literally stirred her womb. Her uterus fluttered when she thought of him in an illicit way. The body, for one. When he’d taken off his shirt to show her his dangerous ink, her pussy had actually quivered. There was something elemental, something chemical in their alliance. Not only did they work well together after the first initial bumps, but when Bettina stood close to Taos, every inch of her body crackled with desire. Just the slope of his lower back where it dipped beneath the low-riding work pants was enough to make her want to caress her own breasts. Which was what she’d done every night since then, and more.

  Still, she was professional, and she eavesdropped on the men’s conversation.

  “Okay,” said Taos. “We’ll meet up at the old casino at seven tonight. Bring those hang-arounds you mentioned, too.”

  “All right, bro.” The men fist-bumped and were just short of slapping each other on the back, but Bettina must have turned to them with a quizzical look. Not knowing her from Adam, they quickly slunk from the shop. Bettina flashed them an artificial grin before stomping over to Taos.

  She spoke in a low voice. “All right, hotshot. What’s the bird’s eye lowdown on those two scumbags?”

  Taos drew himself up, apparently hurt and offended by her characterization. He held his hands up in the surrender pose. “Whoa, whoa! What’s this jumping to conclusions? Maybe you’ve been hanging around scumbags too long, Inspector.”

  “Bettina. You never know who’s in the back room.”

  His grin was domineering, clearly relishing the freedom to call her Bettina. “Bettina. You probably already saw their bikes in the parking lot. We’re starting a club. Now before you go blowing a gasket, let me tell you. It’s a legit riding club.”

  Bettina’s eyes were narrowed so tightly she could barely see, and the toe of her boot tapped out angrily. “Let me see your brain bucket.” Before Taos could protest, she repeated, “Let me see your brain bucket.”

  “Okay, okay!” Taos moved behind the counter. “I knew you’d react this way, but it’s harmless, really. We just want to do a few runs. We already missed the Laughlin River Run which I’ve been dying to do for years but could never get away from Refugio. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

  “Yeah. Bikers ride up and down between Laughlin and Needles, gambling and going to bike shows and concerts. If I heard right, wasn’t the 2002 run ruined by a bunch of Hell’s—”

  “Angels, yeah, well I’m obviously not going since we just missed it.” He handed her his helmet, which had an innocuous Harley sticker on it alongside one that sai
d “Crashing Sucks.”

  Bettina handed it back. “No do-rags.”

  “No do-rags. Is it all right if I just loosely tie a bandana around my head when I ride? That doesn’t scream ‘outlaw biker with a trailer full of AKs’ to you, does it?”

  Bettina knew she shouldn’t be so hard-ass, but it was her job description. “I suppose it’s harmless if you don’t put any rockers on your jacket, don’t come up with any colors. I suppose you’ve already got a club name.”

  “Yeah.” Taos’s enthusiasm was contagious. He leaned his forearms on the glass counter and his eyes gleamed with some illicit thrill. Bettina could see how people could get caught up in those starry blues. “The Brothers of Discipline. Hear me out, it’s hilarious. The Rabid Raiders in Refugio? They originally wanted to call themselves the Pandemonium Pirates, only no one could spell it. They tried having patches made, but there were too many typos. So they changed it to The Perdition Pirates, but the same thing kept happening. No one knew what ‘perdition’ meant, anyway. As it is, not too many know what ‘rabid’ means, but it’s easier to spell.”

  “And you know what they all mean.”

  “Of course. I got straight As in English in high school.”

  “Until you dropped out.”

  Taos sighed deeply. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you brought that up.”

  “Don’t be so cynical.”

  “But you did bring it up, didn’t you? Listen. My father was dying of cancer and I needed to take care of him. He had crappy insurance so yeah, I joined the Rabid Raiders. My best friend Del was already a member. It was a club for boys who had no families, basically. Back then there was nothing illegal going on. It was only when Sirius became the Sergeant-at-Arms that things started going south.” Taos scoffed. “Literally. But anyway, yeah, I dropped out of high school. Didn’t stop me from making a huge success of our motorcycle repair shop.”

  “Why don’t you do something like that here?”

  “Don’t you think it’d draw attention to me? Anyway, I’ve got other plans.”

  “Yeah. About that. What’s this meeting those guys in the old casino building? Is that your new clubhouse?”

  “Those guys are just a couple of lone wolves who’ve never been affiliated with a club. They’re harmless. And the old casino just happens to be empty and have the perfect amenities.”

  “Like no windows. And smelling like cigarettes.”

  “Look,” Taos said softly. He could be very seductive and persuasive when he was in this mode. He made a woman feel as if she was the only one in the entire town. “We’re actually going to talk about doing poker runs for charity. That’s what we’re going to talk about tonight. I want Big Brothers and Abel wants Puppies Behind Bars. The other guy wants Toys for Tots.”

  As much as Bettina wanted to believe in Taos and his rehabilitation, his donating money to charity was a bit of a stretch. “I reserve the right to my skepticism. I’m not against riding, Taos. I used to ride.”

  His wide grin was heart-melting. “You did?”

  “What? You can’t picture that? I didn’t have my own bike but a boyfriend had a chopper.”

  Taos shook his head with amazement. “I don’t know what’s more unbelievable. You riding, or having a boyfriend.”

  The degree to which this comment injured Bettina surprised her. Sure, she had a Teflon image, but did she come across as that sexless? She cocked her head at Taos. “I’ve had boyfriends, hot stuff. You think just because I’m a federal agent I don’t ever cut loose? Well, I cut loose, buddy. I cut loose plenty.”

  As expected, Taos appeared hugely amused. “Oh, I’ll bet.” His voice held undertones that Bettina couldn’t quite suss out. He was being suggestive of something, but what, she didn’t know. “I’ll bet you cut loose. Actually, I’d like to see it sometime.”

  “All right. I’ll be your back warmer. We can do some canyon carving in the Valley of Fire.” She was proud that she remembered some riding lingo from the guy she’d only dated for two months.

  “I’ve got a pussy pad I can throw on for you.”

  “I prefer a two up.”

  “I can get a King and Queen seat.”

  The bell on the door tinkled and a couple of surfers entered.

  Bettina only had the chance to say quietly, “Just remember. Don’t draw attention to yourself. You’re a high-risk witness just weeks from trial. Keep it cool.”

  “I don’t intend to hang out at the Surf ‘n’ Turf forever, Bettina.”

  Although she didn’t know what that meant, she nodded. “Okay if I go by your place? Have a look around?”

  Taos shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  She had her own key to his trailer, so Bettina left the surf shop and dialed Crispin Marwick. There was still something unsettling about her encounter with Taos Hopewell. “Sheriff Marwick, this is Bettina. Can you meet me at the Drawing Board as soon as possible for lunch? Thanks.”

  She’d learned the hard way not to trust any witness. She’d had witnesses climb out bathroom windows, ones who bragged about their cartel exploits. That witness in Nye County that Sheriff Marwick had mentioned? Her witness. She could no more have stopped that guy from running to New Orleans than she could stop a bullet from a gun barrel.

  It wouldn’t hurt to let Taos know she had her suspicions about him. Keeping witnesses on their toes and watching their backs was never a bad thing.

  She wanted to believe in Taos. There had been plenty of—so far—wonderful witnesses whose overwhelming sense of panic had gotten a firm grip on their lifestyles. When properly motivated by fear of being murdered, the majority of witnesses fell into line easily. However, the fear factor seemed to be sadly lacking in Taos Hopewell. He’d have to be motivated by something else. All Bettina could think was that he’d have to be motivated by hope.

  Hope for his future. Now he had a new bike, he had Friendly, and she saw after letting herself into his trailer that his furniture from Texas had arrived. It was bound to make him feel better having his leather couches, his stained glass lamps. He’d made a few personal touches. It was a good sign that he’d hung up a windsurfing poster, had a calendar of Lake Mead on the side of the fridge, and had a pyramid of workout powder drinks on the counter. A framed photo of himself and Friendly sat on top of the TV. He’d obtained a workout bench and weights, although that could be seen as a bad sign. To Bettina, it meant hope for the future, although it could have easily meant he was bulking up to go whale on his enemy.

  Bettina found herself staring at the photo of Taos much longer than she meant to. He was wearing a white wifebeater and tight 501s. He stared directly, confidently into the camera with such adoration on his face she knew his dead girlfriend had taken the photo. Bettina found herself sincerely wishing Taos happiness with a new woman. But she realized that she wanted the new woman to be her.

  Get a grip! Bettina wrenched herself away from the TV and stalked down the hall. What the fuck is wrong with you? You need to get laid, and not by Ken. Go to some bar that’s more badass than the Drawing Board. The Toolbox, that’s it. That’s badass. You’re more likely to find some muscular cowboy there. And it’s just down the street from Taos’s trailer…Shiznit! Get a grip!

  Bettina took a seat at the desk, smiling at the motorcycle magazines that littered it. It was good he had hobbies, things to occupy his time. She tapped the keyboard and the monitor jumped to life. The smile faded from her face, and fast.

  It was the main Facebook login screen. His login e-mail address was there, but of course the password field was blank. Bettina made a halfhearted attempt at figuring it out by typing his dog’s name and variations thereof. She didn’t even know the name of his girlfriend who had died by friendly fire in that Refugio warehouse. She didn’t even know why the girlfriend, who was by all evidence a vanilla citizen, was even in the warehouse. If she ever really went on a run to the Valley of Fire with Taos, she’d try to ask him about the girlfriend.

&nbs
p; The fact that he was Facebooking worried her. Of course he had his browser set to not log any history, so that was fruitless. She banged hell out of the front door, her cell buzzing with a text from Sheriff Marwick.

  “Let’s meet at the Toolbox instead.”

  Well, that’s handy. I wanted to hook up with some muscular hunk with a big dick, and ride him like a cowgirl. I’ll bet I could find one at the Toolbox. Bettina knew she was no stick-thin model, but plenty of beefy men liked being ridden by her type. Especially if I’ve got a riding crop in my hand. She giggled as she got behind the wheel of her Charger then straightened out her face in case anyone was looking.

  It was only a brief drive to the main drag and the Toolbox. She knew she could ask her office manager Skyler to pry into Taos’s Facebook account with the help of the Electronic Surveillance Unit, but for now, she didn’t. She realized she really wanted to trust this guy. She thought it had been ingrained into his brain and practically written on the inside of his eyelids that under no circumstances were witnesses to contact anyone from their past lives. Taos honestly seemed to be putting sincere effort into creating his new life, his new identity.

  Oh, wow. Who’s that banging-hot babe?

  Bettina gazed distantly out her windshield as she carelessly parked her car in the Toolbox’s side lot. A babelicious cowboy sat alone in the “beer garden” in back of the bar and grill, his back to her. His long, flowing brunet hair would be the envy of any woman, even when tied at the back of his neck. His one quarter profile displayed his fine, straight nose. His moustache and short, trimmed beard didn’t make him look disheveled but actually aristocratic. Bettina didn’t look at her car again as she exited it, blindly pressing the lock button on her keychain, but never taking her eyes off the cowboy. When he lifted his beer mug to sip, his sinewy forearm below the rolled-up sleeve told her that he was built.

  Maybe I can catch his eye. God, I knew this would be the right place to find an outdoorsy stud. Fuck, why’d I have to meet that damned sheriff here? He’s going to ruin everything. Why the fuck? I never have any luck with men. It figures that the one time I spot a smoking hot—