Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire

by Victoria Danann

  “All of a sudden, we had a whole bunch of guys in wheelchairs with no way to get inside a courthouse or even roll down a sidewalk because they couldn’t take the chairs over curbs. And handicapped parkin’ places. That was us, too.

  “People who were our own age, civilians, they hated us because we fought in a war we shouldn’t have been in, but like the song said. There was a draft and I weren’t no senator’s son. So what were we supposed to do? Well, sure, some went to Canada, but…”

  Brigid had given up tending bar and had come around to sit next to Nam. Brash came around on his other side, put a hand on his shoulder and said, “You monopolizin’ the beautiful girls again?”

  Nam chuckled. “Can’t help bein’ a chick magnet.”

  Brash smiled, but he was looking at Brigid the whole time. “Can I borrow her for a minute?”

  “I suppose, but bring her back, ‘cause I wasn’t near finished.”

  “Yep.”

  Brigid looked at Brash with open curiosity. He steered her over to an uninhabited corner.

  “Were you serious about wantin’ to ride around with me on errands?”

  “Yeah. Of course!”

  “Well, see if you can get outta your bartendin’ job tomorrow and I’ll take you along. Right after breakfast.”

  “At six?”

  He could see the tease in her eyes and gave her a sideways look. “At ten.” She laughed. “By the way,” he fingered the hem of her shirt near her shoulder, “it’s nice to know you hear me when I talk.”

  She pulled a handful of ones out of her apron pocket. “Uh-huh. So far it’s been worth…” she looked at the bills, “at least twenty.”

  “Guess they forgot you’re rich.”

  “I’m not rich.”

  “Okay. Next thing you know they’ll be forgettin’ why you’re here.”

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said softly. “Or the club.”

  His eyes drifted down to her mouth. “See you at ten or thereabouts.”

  “Any time after nine is hit or miss as to whether there’ll be any bacon left.”

  He laughed and gave her a pointed look. “There’s more than one place to get bacon.”

  It was clear by the look on her face that he’d killed the good humor. That was when it crossed his mind, for the first time, that the beautiful social scientist might actually be into him, the rowdy long-haired tattooed biker who wouldn’t have a high school diploma if it wasn’t for GED. After waking up to find her enraged over a little early morning snuggle, he’d been sure he didn’t stand a chance.

  He walked up to Arnold, who was waiting his turn at the pool table. “You think women are strange?”

  Arnold looked at him like he was crazy. “I think it’s strange that you’d ask that question. ‘Cause everybody knows women are strange.”

  Having overheard that, Car Lot added, “It don’t get stranger.”

  The others, within earshot, all nodded and mumbled their agreement.

  At nine thirty Brash set his breakfast plate down on the bar next to Brigid, as he had every day that week.

  She kept typing, but said, “It’s not ten yet.”

  He put a piece of bacon in his mouth. “I didn’t want to miss out on bacon.”

  She smiled in spite of herself and looked over at him. He was wearing a short sleeved black tee that showed off both his tan muscled arms and the colorful tattoo on the right side. When she’d awakened to him in her bed the Saturday before, she’d seen the entire design in all its glory, but was too livid to appreciate the detail.

  “Did that hurt?”

  He glanced down to where she was looking at his arm and smiled. “Like the dickens. You have any?”

  “Tats?”

  Her eyes went wide, which made him laugh on the inside. “No,” she said. “Even if I wanted one, I’m a firm avoider of pain.”

  “That right, Pain?”

  “That’s right, Brannach.”

  If she thought calling him that was going to needle him, she was so wrong. He loved hearing her say his given name.

  “Well, if you’re finished typing nonsense, we’ll be off.”

  “Bait me all you want. I’m not reacting.”

  “Okay,” he chuckled. “You want to leave that on the bar or in my old room?” He nodded toward the laptop.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She returned wearing a tan baby doll top, jeans and Converse with a messenger bag worn cross-body. He held the door open for her and started toward his bike.

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “I thought we’d use transportation today ‘cause walkin’ just takes too long.”

  “Well, yeah. But not that.” She waved in the direction of his Harley.

  “You never been on a bike before?”

  She didn’t need to say it. He could tell by the way she looked at him, part fear, part anticipation.

  “So today’s the day. Look. I brought somethin’ for you.” He handed her a dark pink helmet with daisies painted on it. “Belongs to my Aunt Joanna. She said you can use it.”

  “Well.” Brigid took it and turned it over, waiting for her life to flash before her eyes. “That was, um, nice of her.”

  She put it on and fumbled with the strap.

  “Here,” he said. He stood in front of her, fixed the strap, and looked down into her eyes. Suddenly he grinned, knocked once on the top of her helmet, and stepped back. “Okay. Here’s what you do. Put your feet right there like that.” He took one foot and then the other and physically showed her what he wanted. “And keep them there. Then you put your arms around me and hold on tight. When I lean, you lean the same way. That’s all there is to it.”

  He started the engine and pulled her arms tighter around him. “There. How does that feel?”

  “Scary.”

  He laughed and started forward. When they were on the other side of the gate, she got a chance to hear what the roar was like up close and personal. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. It only took minutes for the anxiety to level out so that she could appreciate feeling like she was part of scenery as it rushed past with the wind. There was no mistaking the sense of freedom or the appeal.

  She supposed that she couldn’t write about a motorcycle club with any authenticity without having firsthand knowledge of riding. She laid her cheek against the plane of muscle between Brash’s shoulder blades and gave herself up to the experience of being a fender fox. And he smiled. She couldn’t possibly know that she was the first woman to ever be invited to ride with him.

  He normally rode a Sportster, but he’d borrowed an Electra Glide Ultra just for his special passenger.

  First stop was an old-time movie theater on 3rd Street. Brigid got off the bike and fumbled with the helmet, until Brash came to her rescue.

  Brigid looked up at the marquee. It read, FRIDAY FILM NOIR. “Double Indemnity” and “Touch of Evil”.

  He used one of a fistful of keys to open a door to the right of the ticket window. After Brigid entered, he relocked the door.

  The lighting was dim inside, but Brigid could tell the antique fixtures had been lovingly cared for or restored, while carpet and displays were pristine and new.

  A man in his fifties came out of nowhere and seemed really glad to see Brash. “Mr. Fornight!” he said.

  Brash clasped his hand. “Dave. This is Brigid Bailey. She’s my shadow today.”

  Dave shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. Come on back.”

  They followed him into the office where he immediately began discussing details of the business with Brash. There had been a spike in beef prices, which meant they needed to print new menus. The chef had been snatched away by another restaurant, but the new woman was promising.

  Brigid gathered that the interior of the old movie house had been turned into a dinner theater. They sometimes rented it out for weddings and private parties, but its main purpose was to serve nouvelle cuisine to a crowd of people who wanted to
share an interest in good food and old films with others.

  After listening for a while, her curiosity led her out of the office, across the lobby and through the doors to the main room. Since the lights weren’t on, she had to hold the door open to see, but it was a lovely space. The floor was terraced into sections sloping downward so that all the diners had a good view of the screen. Half round tables were covered in white linen with crescent seating for either two or four diners.

  She had lived in Austin for over a year and had passed by the old theatre without taking note. Of course she hadn’t really been interested in anything but her studies.

  “See something you like?”

  Brash had come up behind her so quietly that she jumped a little and laughed. “Yes. I was just thinking that I must have passed by this place. It’s kind of, I don’t know, enchanting.”

  “Huh,” was all he said. “Well, I’m ready if you are.”

  When she turned, Dave said, “Let me know when you’re coming and I’ll reserve a special table for you.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled. “I’d really like that.”

  Before lunch they visited a used textbook store that she had personally patronized and a real estate management company. Apparently, the club owned some housing rentals.

  When they left there, he said, “What do you want for lunch?”

  “Surprise me.”

  He grinned and fastened her helmet.

  After stopping at a taco truck parked next to the river, Brash ordered soft tacos and lemonades and motioned to the picnic table under the Live Oak. Maybe it was because it was a Thursday and maybe it was because it was the middle of the afternoon, but they were the only ones there.

  “Hmmm. This is the best soft taco I’ve ever had.”

  “Well, that’s the thing about small businesses like this one. They can’t rely on ambience. Although the location can’t be beat.”

  She laughed. “That’s true.” She turned her face into the breeze and closed her eyes for a minute as if in confirmation. “So. What is it you’ve been showing me this morning?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I want to hear it from you.”

  “The club owns a network of enterprises. The current president has done all this since I was born. Nam can tell you the whole story, but my granddad’s dealings weren’t always, ah, legitimate, I guess you’d say. Pop came into the club bent on two things; making money, and doin’ it clean.

  “He figured out that most small businesses fail not because they’re bad ideas or because the owners are lazy, but because of either bein’ undercapitalized or missin’ something crucial. Capitalization is an easy problem to fix if you have the venture capital. The other thing is usually a matter of bein’ too close. Small business people have dreams and put their whole selves into it. Sometimes they have to compromise a little to be profitable, but I’m usually able to convince them that that’s better than goin’ under. You know?”

  She nodded. “So you’re the business genius?”

  “You makin’ fun of me?”

  “No.” She shook her head to punctuate her innocence.

  He could see by the big eyes and her surprised reaction that she hadn’t been mocking him, and it gave him a warm feeling in his chest to suspect that she might be truly impressed.

  “Everybody’s got a talent. Sometimes I can see what needs to be tweaked to make a business work. I mean I read some, too. And I didn’t figure this out just yesterday. I did what you might call an apprenticeship for a long ass time.”

  Before the end of the day, they visited a boot and saddle maker and a florist.

  When they pulled back into the SSMC and dismounted the Electra Glide, Brigid said, “So that was a typical day in the life?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Brigid didn’t see Brash at dinner and, for the first time all week, he didn’t eat breakfast at the bar with her. She knew there was going to be another party that night and figured she’d see him then.

  She did. He showed up around ten o’clock with an outrageously buxom blonde hanging on him.

  Brash waited until she was watching to lay a kiss on the blonde, with no mistaking there was tongue involved. He maneuvered the woman so that he could watch Brigid’s reaction and, Christ. He’d wanted to find out if she was into him, not hurt her. She looked as devastated as if she’d been his old lady.

  She’d taken off like there was an ex on her tail.

  Brash handed the woman off to Eric and went inside. When he got to his old room, he knocked. Then knocked louder. When he didn’t get any response, he tried the door. It was locked, but that didn’t stop him. He opened the door and walked in.

  She was lying on the bed crying.

  He closed the door behind him and locked it.

  “Brigid. What the fuck are you doin’?”

  She sat up, looking both indignant and outraged. “GET OUT OF HERE!” She threw a pillow at him.

  He caught the pillow in one big hand and walked toward the bed. When he was close she stood up and said, “I said GET OUT!” She drew her hand back like she was going to have another crack at him, but he’d already seen her best move. He caught her wrist. When she raised the other hand, he caught that one, too.

  Her face was pink from crying and he was ashamed enough to want to kick his own butt. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He just wanted to find out if she was interested. In him.

  “Baby.” He said it softly. She sniffled in response, but went still. “Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, Brigid. Kiss me.”

  “Why?” She sniffled.

  He smiled and said gently, “Because you want to. I want to. We want to.”

  “I’m not kissing lips that have just been on that skank.”

  He turned and walked into the bathroom. She heard water running briefly and then he was in front of her again. “There. Every trace of skank is all gone.”

  When she looked up, he took the choice away from her, pressed his lips against hers and let his tongue leisurely tangle with hers. She melted into his kiss, her body recalling how good he’d felt wrapped around her while she slept the night he’d come back from Colorado.

  He eased her back onto the bed and trapped her under his body while he continued to pet slowly. As the spark between them started to catch fire, he drew back, drinking in the look of her lowered eyelids and the lust shining back in her eyes.

  Brash opened his mouth to say something. “Jesus,” was all that came out.

  Brigid raised both of them off the bed in her eagerness to arch into him. He sat up on one knee, pulled the tee shirt over his head, and threw it off to the side of the bed. She raked her gaze over his chest and his tattoos and reached out to run her hands down his torso like she couldn’t stand to not be touching him.

  “Sit up,” he said as he pulled her hands toward him. He lifted her black top away. She’d worn it for the party, hoping he’d like what he saw. And he did. He stared at her long enough to make her self-conscious. Just as she was about to cover herself with her hands, he distracted her with a mind-numbing kiss while he unfastened her bra and tossed it onto the growing pile of clothing beside the bed.

  He sat back to see what he’d uncovered and, again, the only thing he could think of to say was, “Jesus.” He palmed a full breast in his right hand and reveled in the sound of the deep moan she made. He broke the kiss and pushed down to take her nipple into his mouth.

  As he swirled his tongue around her areola, teasing the nipple, she took his hair out of the leather thong that held it and let it fall free around her. Brash stopped abruptly and stood up by the bed. Before her mind was fully in touch with the moment, he had stripped away the rest of her clothing, then his.

  She thought the flush on his face was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen, next to the extra-human shine in his dark eyes that picked up even the tiniest light and reflected it back.

  She heard each of his heavy motorcycle bo
ots hit the floor one at a time, and waited with breathless anticipation for him to get out of his jeans. The sun hadn’t set and there was enough light left in the room for her to see that he was beautiful, and large, all over.

  “Brash. Your penis is a masterpiece.”

  He stared at her for a moment with an open mouth before glancing down. Looking slightly embarrassed, he practically leaped back onto the bed and pinned her giggling figure to the mattress.

  “Shut up,” he said playfully.

  Her hand was itching to learn the feel of him. He let out a satisfied growl when she reached down and palmed his engorged cock.

  “Why are you embarrassed about having such a…?” The tip of her thumb found the piercing. “What’s this?” She sounded fascinated. “Oh my.”

  Brash planted his face in the pillow next to Brigid’s head to smother his laughter. He’d been in a lot of beds, and situations, with a lot of females, but he couldn’t remember ever laughing during foreplay.

  “Hey,” she said, “I’m over here getting lonely.”

  He raised his head from the pillow, smiled. “You want to take that thing in your hand for a test drive?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Please.”

  Just before he set about kissing Brigid senseless, he had a fleeting thought it might be a bad idea to fuck the lucrative business venture. It was the sort of internal warning that he used to ignore as a teenager just before he did something very, very stupid.

  When his hand found its way to Brigid’s swollen nub, she arched off the bed again, in a sexy and rather athletic display that he was sure he’d never forget. He stretched to reach his pants on the floor and fumbled through the pockets to retrieve his wallet for a condom. Nothing.

  “Stay right here and don’t move.”

  “What? Where are you going?” Brigid half sat up.

  “Condom. My room.”

  To her amazement, he didn’t bother with clothes. He left her door open while he dashed through to his room and returned without a stitch on his body.