Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire

by Victoria Danann

  “Wait. Not so fast. This means too much to me to get the bum’s rush so fast. Let’s negotiate.”

  “Sorry, darlin’. Non-negotiable. Door’s right behind you. Close it on the way out.”

  “There must be something you would exchange for letting me talk to club members and ask a few questions.”

  The president of the Sons of Sanctuary Motorcycle Club prided himself on patience. The Devil only knew it had taken a lot to bring up his wild ass son. But he was beginning to get annoyed. He was accustomed to having people respond when he dismissed them. Immediately.

  He sat back and looked at her through hooded eyes. “I see you’re working on the theory that everything’s negotiable.” He cocked his head. “And maybe that’s right. So. Okay. Here it is.”

  Leaning forward slightly, eyes shining with intensity, he said, “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars cash. Plus you sign a lifetime non-disclosure agreeing that you will never reveal the name of the club, any of its members, their family members, people you meet in association with the club or any of the businesses owned by the club. Likewise, you will not talk to employees of club-owned businesses or their friends and families. What I’m sayin’, in case I’m not perfectly clear, is it’s pure anonymity or nothin’. That offer is good for exactly one minute.” He looked at his watch. “Startin’ now.”

  Brigid pursed her lips, looking very unhappy indeed. Brant made a show of looking at his watch, wondering if he was going to have to physically remove her from the premises.

  He looked up when she said, “Alright. But I have to have free access for three months.”

  Brant’s expression was priceless. He forgot all about watching the time on his watch. The last thing he’d expected to come from that meeting was a nice infusion of cash coupled with somebody nosing through club business, where nobody’s nose belonged.

  He was wondering first, how he could have stumbled into a trap of his own making, second, how he’d never considered that she might say okay, and, third, how high he could have gone!

  Narrowing his eyes at her, he said, “You blowin’ smoke, girl?”

  “I assure you I am not, Mr. Fornight. I have accepted your terms. Do you accept my condition?”

  He ran scenarios in his head. The movie season had wound down and the economy was depressing demand for toys that were cool and expensive. He’d worked too hard to make the SSMC a hub of legitimate business enterprise to go back there. In short, the two fifty would help keep the coffers overflowing, just the way he liked it. Convincing the other members that it was a good deal. Well, that would take some serious finesse.

  “Do you understand that the non-disclosure is a tie that binds. If you break it, we won’t sue. Do you take my meaning?”

  Brigid swallowed. She didn’t have any intention of breaking the waiver. Or suing. Still, having her life threatened, if she ‘took his meaning’, was a new and somewhat unsettling experience. She met his stare. “I believe I do. Does that mean you accept my condition? Three months?”

  Brant wasn’t convinced she actually had that kind of money, but decided to play along. “I don’t think there’s three months’ worth of dirt to dig on us, but if you want to become a hang-around, that will probably be okay with the boys. They like girls. Don’t know how the women will feel about it. You’re not exactly gonna fit in.”

  She ignored that. “When can I get started?”

  Swiveling his chair to look out the window toward the clubhouse, the fingers of Brant’s left hand absently tapped on the desk. The next meeting was scheduled for Wednesday. He couldn’t give her a definite yes without letting the club vote.

  He turned back to her. “Okay. First lesson on… what did you call it? Club structure? No individual has the authority to make a decision that affects the club. It’s a democratic outfit. We vote.” She nodded. “I’ll bring it to a vote at our meeting on Wednesday. If they say yes, and, mind you, that’s a very big if, you can move in on Friday. We’re having a barbeque Friday night. Would be a good chance for you to meet everybody.”

  Her eyes were wide as a child’s. “Move in?”

  There was a part of Brant that thought having her around could be amusing. Her every thought was betrayed by her expressive face and complete ignorance of how to disguise emotional reaction.

  “Yes, little girl. Best way to get to know us is to live with us. You asked for it. I’m gonna make sure you get your money’s worth. There’s a spare room, with shower bath, in the compound. It’s minimal. Military style. But you’re not lookin’ for a luxury vacation. Right?”

  He could see she was past the surprise and settling into the idea.

  “Right. Friday,” she said with a determined set to her mouth.

  Brant pushed a pad and pen in her direction. “Write your number down there. I’ll let you know one way or the other.”

  As she wrote her number on the top sheet, she felt like the dog who caught the car he was chasing, and realized for the first time that there may have been a part of her that wanted him to say no. It would certainly be a good excuse for not following through on what might very well prove to be a hair-brained idea.

  Her parents had died on an anniversary trip to South Africa in a bush plane crash when she was seventeen. She’d gone to live with a kind, but elderly great-aunt who was a retired schoolteacher. Though her aunt meant well, she was inactive physically and out of touch with both current events and current social problems of adolescents. That meant that, for practical purposes, Brigid had been on her own.

  All things considered, she’d done a pretty good job of raising herself. One of her best qualities was a keen awareness of the behavior of others. She found that, if she kept her eyes open, it was easy to figure out what to do and what not to do. That interest in behavior eventually bloomed to fruition in her chosen field of study, which was all about observing and analyzing the behaviors of cultures, large and small.

  She gained control of her inheritance when she turned twenty-one. Most of the money, which included the proceeds of substantial life insurance policies, was being managed by a mutual fund company, but she could get hold of two-fifty quickly. She could have paid more without putting her future in jeopardy. A lot more. But it would have taken longer to free up. So far as she was concerned, she was lucky he took her for a struggling grad student and asked for an amount that was easily manageable.

  “Brigid?”

  Her eyes darted to his. “Yes?”

  “Was there something else?”

  “What? Oh. No. Um, thank you, Mr. Fornight.”

  “Second lesson. People who end up in motorcycle clubs are informal types. You can call me Brant.”

  She nodded enthusiastically, feeling flustered, like every bit of the aplomb she’d worn on the way in had disintegrated the minute he said yes to her proposal.

  “Thank you. Brant. I’ll, uh, just go now.”

  His mouth twitched. “Door’s still in the same place as before.”

  “Right. So. See you.”

  She stood quickly and closed the door like he’d asked. She was hyper aware of the ridiculous clacking sound her heels were making as she walked quickly toward the front. Pistol Pete was waiting by the front door. He grinned as he opened the door for her. That gesture, made by another man, might have looked gallant, but on Pete it looked predatory.

  Refusing to return his smile, she offered a simple, polite, “Thank you,” while looking past him at her destination - her car in the parking lot. She could hear the sounds of hydraulic tools coming from behind the showroom. She was tempted to walk around to the back and see where the magic happened, but decided it would be more politic to wait until written permission to snoop was bought and paid for.

  Twelve of the thirteen members were present at the Wednesday business meeting, everybody except Brash. Eleven men sat at the table while Beth’s Uncle Rock stood behind and off to the side of where the president sat at the head of the table. It wasn’t a requirement, or even a tradi
tion, but sometime after Rock was named sergeant-at-arms, he took up a post leaning against the back wall and never gave it up. For years Brant hadn’t known that anyone who disagreed with him was treated to Rock’s silent intimidating stare. Since Brash suspected that his dad was unaware, he told him that discussion might not be authentic because the S.A.R. was glaring the club into submission. So he took it upon himself to bring the old man up to speed.

  Brant responded by taking Rock out back to the picnic table that sat alone under the cottonwood tree, along with a quarter bottle of Jim Beam to share. While they listened to the peaceful music of cottonwood leaves rustling in the breeze, Brant explained to Rock that every member should feel free to voice his opinion.

  “I don’t wanta be some asshole dictator. I want to be fair.”

  Rock had said, “Doin’ what you think we should do is fair.”

  It was hard for Brant to argue with that logic. The reason he’d picked Rock for S.A.R. was because he’d recognized that the man was loyal as a dog.

  “Appreciate that you feel that way, but the right thing is to let everybody have a say. Even you.”

  “Me!”

  “Yeah,” Brant chuckled. “You get a say just like everybody who sits at the table. You got somethin’ to add or argue, you speak it out. Loud and clear.”

  Rock looked like he wasn’t too sure about that, but nodded his head anyway. “If that’s what you want,” was all he said.

  When everybody was present at meetings, five members sat on each side of the long, worn conference-style table, with the president at the far end. The end opposite Prez was reserved for the oldest active member who, in that case, was also the club’s historian.

  Brant waited until after reports on the businesses and on the prospects to bring up the proposed deal.

  He cleared his throat. “There’s one other item to be considered. I was propositioned by a young lady this week.” That was followed by hoots and hollers. “Yeah. Yeah. Settle down. I know I’m sexy as fuck, but it wasn’t what you think.

  “As a favor, I met with this girl who knows Rock’s niece. She’s a student at U.T. who wants to do research on a motorcycle club.” The room went instantly still as they waited for him to go on. “She wants what she called access to see how things operate and ask us questions. Old ladies, too, I guess.” The room was so quiet a pin dropping would have sounded like a disturbance. “Naturally I showed her the door. At first.

  “Then she asked me what it would take. I told her two hundred and fifty thousand dollars with a signed agreement to never disclose the name of the club, members, family, or businesses. I figured that would be the end of it. Then she said okay.

  “I mean she was all dolled up, but I still didn’t take her for havin’ two-fifty to buy her way in. Anyhow, I told her there was no deal until after a vote. So that’s what we’re gonna do now.

  “If you want my opinion, I was against it at first, but then I got to thinkin’. It’s not like back in the days when we really had stuff to hide. These days we’re practically the Austin Chamber of Commerce. But just to be sure we’re protected, I also stipulated that she could not talk to any employee of Sanctuary Enterprises or their friends and families. We’ll get Grayson to draw up an air-tight agreement. Look, two-fifty is more than we clear in a year from the taco shack and the snowcone hut combined.

  “I told her absolute anonymity, guaranteed with her life. The look on her face said she believed that if she reveals identities, she dies. And as we all know, everything is about perception.

  “So talk it over and, when you’re done, we’ll take a vote.”

  Edge was first to talk, “Christ, Prez. She’s what? Like a reporter? We’re gonna spill our guts to a loose-lipped coed?”

  “I saw her the other day. She brightens a room, if you know what I mean.” Rescue grinned at the others.

  Brant interjected. “Let me stop you right there, brother. Let’s make it clear from the jump go, she’s not one of your holes. You know as well as I do that all money gets earned one way or the other. The price of this money is you ease out of your comfort zone and answer questions that maybe you like and maybe you don’t, you give the woman some respect, and you keep your fuckin’ hands to yourselves.” The room went quiet again. “Sorry to interrupt. Just had to be said.”

  “You want us to make our old ladies sit down for interviews? What if they don’t want to?”

  Brant smiled at E.R. shaking his head. “If any one of you can tell me you’ve ever met a woman who wasn’t eager to talk, then we’ll consider that a potential problem.”

  There was some good-natured laughter, followed by a question from Rescue. “How long?”

  “What’s that?” asked Brant.

  “How long would she be around? Getting’ access.”

  “Oh. She talked about three months. I told her that, if you vote yes, she could move in Friday.”

  There was a rush of noise as several people tried to talk at once.

  “An outsider livin’ here? I don’t get it. What are you thinkin’?”

  Brant turned to Car Lot calmly and said, “I’m thinkin’ it’s a lot of money for not doin’ much of anythin’ and that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see ourselves through a different lens.”

  Car Lot threw up his hands in exasperation. “Different lens! What the fuck?”

  “How far does this go, Brant?” asked Eric. “You lettin’ her in here?”

  “Got somethin’ to say, Prez.”

  Brant turned to look behind him. “Go ahead, Rock.”

  “When hell freezes over. That’s all I got to say.”

  Brant turned around. “Well, there you have it. The answer is no. This room’s off limits. We can tell her what goes on in here, but that’s it.”

  The discussion went on like that for another half hour. Some said that putting up with an outsider, even an outsider who was a woman, wasn’t worth the trouble. Some said nothing was worth that and that they would be a disgrace to all MCs everywhere if they allowed it.

  When Brant was satisfied that everyone had a chance to put their opinion forward, he took charge. “Motion for a vote.”

  “Second,” said Rock.

  Brant took the vote member by member then brought the gavel down. “Seven to five for. Motion passes. I’ll ask you to remember that everybody is bound by majority rule. That means you will be polite and respectful to the young woman. And you will answer her questions within reason. Who knows? You may even like gettin’ interviewed, as Eric calls it.

  “Motion to adjourn.”

  “Second,” said Rock.

  “Adjourned.” Brant brought the gavel down again and members began shuffling to their feet.

  When the room had cleared, Arnold was still seated. “Hope you know what you’re doin’, Prez. This is the kind of thing that gets hard feelin’s started.”

  Brant sighed. “I guess we have to be better than that, don’t we? If Sanctuary could be pulled apart by one little copper-headed girl, then it’s not sayin’ much for what we’ve built here.”

  Arnold smiled. “Yeah. Guess you’re right. I know just the thing to take the worry away.”

  Brant watched as Arnold stood and made his way to the open door. He was the youngest member. Younger even than Brash, but he had a good head and the club was lucky that he was hiding a genuine geek behind those good looks.

  Brant retired to his real office, the one behind the bar at the clubhouse, and pulled out his phone. When Brigid answered, he said, “You’re in, kiddo.” He gave her directions and instructions on what to say at the gate. “I’ll have papers for you to sign when you get here. If you don’t have the cash with you, it’ll be a short stay.”

  “I understand. What time should I, um, be there?”

  “Round noon. That’ll give you time to settle in and meet the key players before the party starts.”

  “Okay. And thank you.”

  Brant laughed. “It’ll be interesting to see if you’re still tha
nkin’ me when your three months is up, little girl.”

  He hung up.

  She had to agree.

  It would be interesting.

  She dialed Tara.

  “Hello.”

  “Guess what?”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  Tara let out such a high pitch squeal that Brigid had to jerk the phone away from her ear.

  “Tara?”

  “Yes, roomie?”

  “If you ever do that again, I will murder you in your sleep.”

  “That’s not a problem because nothing as exciting as getting out of here is ever going to happen to me again in my life.”

  “I truly hope you’re wrong about that. I’ve got more news.”

  “More news?”

  “And you’re gonna like it.”

  “What? I need to pee. Don’t drag it out.”

  “I’m moving into the clubhouse for the next three months, which means that…”

  Tara squealed again. “I’ll have your place all to myself.”

  “You better sleep with one eye open.”

  “Oh, sorry, but that was almost as exciting as getting out of roommate hell.”

  “Okay. Go pee. The clock is ticking. Beth is giving you two days from now to get out. Coincidentally, I happen to be moving out in two days. So…” She heard Tara take in a deep breath. “Don’t. You. Dare.” She heard Tara let out a deep breath. “Do you want to let Beth know that the mission was a success or should I?”

  “I’ll tell her when she gets in tonight. She’d get suspicious when she sees me packing up. So I might as well tell her. Oh. What’s my new address?”

  Brigid laughed. “I’ll text you and have a key made.”

  “You’re my hero.”

  “Your standards need to be reimagined.”

  “Gotta pee.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  At noon on Friday, Brigid pulled up to the gate of the club compound after going past the turn three times. They were located on the far west side, just outside the Austin city limit, at the end of a long drive lined with large old mesquite trees. Someone came shuffling out, taking his time, while she waited.