We all watched in silence as Crash crossed the room and tapped his girlfriend on the shoulder. He took her hand and led her outside, away from us gawkers.
“Well, that was a real fun trick,” Nana said brightly. “Where did you learn that?”
“The school of hard knocks.” I laughed. I didn’t really want to explain any further. I’d already told Clint too much; I was still a little raw.
“She probably picked it up at the same school where you learned how to cheat at gin,” he said, winking at Nana. “Let’s leave Jo her secrets.”
I smiled at him, grateful that he’d saved me from another uncomfortable conversation. Then I realized what he had said. “Wait, you cheat at gin?” I asked her. “That’s why I never win?”
“It’s just a little card counting.” Nana laughed. “I have my secrets too,” she said with a smug smile.
“They won’t let her back at the senior center back home,” Clint explained. “She got caught.”
“I did not get caught,” Nana said firmly. “Cora Mapleton is just a sore loser.” She finished the sentence with a big yawn.
Clint laughed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, ladies.” He stepped in to push Nana’s wheelchair. “I think it’s time to head out.”
* * *
After we got back to the house, I helped Nana to bed and then went to my room. It was past ten and I was planning to go to bed early. I’d already slipped under the covers with a stack of flashcards when someone knocked on my door.
“Hey, Jo?” Clint called from the hallway. “Can I talk to you real quick?”
“Yeah, come in,” I said, sitting up in bed and making sure to gather the blankets around my waist.
“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he said from my doorway. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going away for a few days and my mother will be staying with you and Nana.”
“Where are you going and for how long?” I asked, frowning.
“I got some club business in Southern California.” He shrugged. “I’ll probably be gone about a week. I’m leaving in two days. My mom will be here tomorrow to help out.”
“Oh.” I wanted to jump out of bed and be close to him. Funny how a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have really cared if my boss left town for a while, but now it seemed so momentous. I picked at the covers.
“I forgot to tell you earlier,” he explained, “and I didn’t want to leave it in a note. I hope you have fun with my mom. I’ll be back on Thursday, probably.”
“Okay, well, thanks for telling me.” I smiled at him as he left and closed my door. He’d be gone for nearly a week and I was going to be living with his mother.
Who would he be with? My mind started wandering. He had business for the club. I’d seen the stripper pole in the back of the bar at Family Night. Would there be other women? Women who wouldn’t pull away after kissing him?
I flopped back on my bed. It was gonna be a long week.
Chapter Fourteen
Clint
I’d been to San Bernardino a couple of times. It was on the eastern edge of the Los Angeles metro area. It was dusty and rocky, the spot where California stopped being a concrete jungle and soared up into the mountains.
The jury was still out on whether or not I actually liked Southern California. The freeways were fast as hell but dangerous, and the competition from other clubs was huge. The Demon Horde was one of the bigger clubs, with us being the farthest north in Tacoma. We had chapters in Modesto, Oakland, San Fran, Salem, and a bunch of other cities through California and Oregon. But here in Southern California, the fight for turf was fierce.
Many clubs opted for the smash and grab, bloodier methods for expansion. So far, the Demon Horde preferred to let their economic ventures slowly win the war on territory. We’d start a business and once supply lines were solid, we’d just move into that area. The local club would either join up and share the profits or move on. It made takeovers a hell of a lot easier when we had already made a name for ourselves in that area.
After pulling up to the tiny bar where the Horde made its California headquarters, I parked my bike and went inside. At four in the afternoon, the place was empty. The bartender was a hot blonde, and she grinned when I walked in.
“Hey, traveler,” she said as she pulled a glass out of the freezer. “You want a Budweiser? We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Thanks...” I paused, waiting for her to tell me her name.
“Traci.” She winked and handed me the ice-cold draft. “You’ll find Volk in the last booth by the john.”
“Thanks, Traci.” I nodded to her and found his booth.
* * *
After a long conversation, I drained the last of my beer. Traci had brought us refills a while back, so it was still cold on my throat.
“That’s a big request,” I said, trying to wrap my brain around what Volk had laid down. “You want me to not only set up a business with our contact in Reno to import vehicles, but you also want me to figure out how to patch in the Silver Souls?”
“Yep.” Volk agreed. “It’s a lot, I know. That’s why I asked Tate if I could talk to you about it. I like businessmen in my club. They’re a hell of a lot more useful than drug pushers and fighters. We need muscle sometimes when things get nasty, but most often I need brains. You got brains, son—I think you can do this.”
“It’s gonna take some time.” I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking. “The Silver Souls hate the Horde. I also don’t know how they’re doing financially.”
“Yeah, those are definitely problems.” Volk finished off his whiskey. “I’ll need to send a fixer out there to look at their books, the way I sent Colt up to Tacoma. They gotta get earning before I’ll patch ’em in. But all you need to worry about is establishing the deal with George in Reno and just start to make friends with the Souls. Repair your relationship with them and then the next step will be getting them to consider the patch-over. While you’re out there, see if you can get intel on how many people are in their club. We might need to swell their numbers.”
“Shit.” I realized what Volk was planning. “They need to be financially viable and have large numbers if they’re gonna defend Reno. The Riot Riders own Carson City, just south of Reno. You’re preparing for a battle.”
The Riot Riders were huge on the West Coast. Taking over Reno was an easy way for Volk to communicate that he was coming for them. It was going to be the first shot in a war.
“I knew you were smart, kid. But yeah, that’s the long-term goal.” Volk took a drink of his beer. “They’re making inroads into some of our business down here in SoCal and I need them gone. I’m just playing the long game. But in the short term, I need you to make the first deal on the import business. No blood, no bullets while you’re in Reno? Got it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll keep it clean.”
“Good.” Volk slid out of the booth. “I can’t afford to start a war with Reno and then expect to win Carson City. We gotta make allies first so we can keep the ranks together. I gotta go. See ya at Chapel tonight.”
An hour later, my conversation with Volk still had me reeling. He was starting a turf war with one of the most violent clubs in the west. I wasn’t about to tell anyone, but the Riot Riders scared the shit out of me. I would just need to suck it up. My club needed me and I was gonna come through for them.
I sat, alone, at a booth in the bar. Traci was keeping me supplied with beer and French fries until Maori, the unofficial treasurer, got off work and could take me to get the remains of the cash for my shop. After my second basket of fries, I was sick of hearing myself think. I rummaged through my pocket for a quarter for the jukebox, but I had no change.
“Another beer?” Traci asked from my right. I hadn’t heard her walk up.
“Actually, you got change for the jukebox?” I asked her, holding up a dollar bill.
“Yeah, I think so.” She dug in her jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of change.
There, among the quarters and dimes in Traci’s hand, were two medallions. I recognized them instantly. Both bronze.
“Five years, huh?” I asked. “Gambling isn’t a woman’s game.”
“Santa Anita racetrack is a fun place to be.” She shrugged and placed four quarters on the table. “If you know what those medallions are, then it’s probably your game too.”
“One year.” I put my hand in my pocket to dig out my token and then remembered I didn’t have it. “I left it at home for safekeeping.”
“Safekeeping, huh?” Traci laughed, and slid into the seat across from me. “She have a name?”
“Jo.” I ducked my head. I’d been caught. The only reason a gambler gave away his tokens was to a woman.
“Too bad it’s serious,” Traci said, winking at me. “I was gonna ask you out myself.”
Traci was smoking hot, and if I wasn’t crazy about Jo, I would have taken her up on her offer.
“Maybe you’ll get your chance.” I tried to smile. “I’m her boss and she’s already told me no. A couple of times.”
“Oh, honey.” Traci reached over and squeezed my hand. “You gotta stay away. If you’re her boss, you’ll never know if it’s real between you or if she’s just fucking you because she doesn’t want to lose her job. Let her have her own space. That’s the only way you’ll get her. I’ll go put something on the jukebox for you.”
Traci got up and left, and I watched her walk away. She was petite, blond, hot. But all I could think about was a tall woman with tight brown curls.
I crashed at Maori’s place until we got the money transfer worked out. Bulldog, a prospect from SoCal, was transferring up to Tacoma, so he was riding back north with me. By the time I got business and everything taken care of, I was a day late. I made arrangements with my mom to take care of Nana for another day.
“Do you need to talk to Jo?” Mom asked on the phone.
Yes. I wanted to hear her voice. But what would I say? I remembered Traci’s advice. I had to let Jo come to me. I was her boss, so I had to stay away.
“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you all when I get home in a couple of days.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jo
Clint was due back today from California...not that I had it marked on the calendar on my phone or anything. Jean, Clint’s mom, was great. She’d been staying with us all week and was at the grocery store right now. She helped with all of Nana’s needs and was a fantastic cook. She even gave me an extra night off so I could go to a happy hour with Rachel. But I still missed Clint. I looked out the window every time I heard the roar of a motorcycle, to see if he was home.
Nana was snoring to her soaps and I was working on one of my crossword puzzles when the door rang. We rarely got solicitors. I figured it was a Girl Scout or someone from the neighborhood, so I answered the door.
“Bettes!” I gave her a hug. We’d met at Family Night—she was the president’s wife.
“I brought you some consolation cookies.” She grinned and offered me a plastic-wrapped dish.
“What are consolation cookies for?” I asked, tilting my head to one side. Was I absent from school the day they served them? I missed a lot of things and maybe this was one of them. I invited her in and led her back to the kitchen so we wouldn’t wake Nana.
“Because Clint won’t be home tonight,” she explained. “I thought I would cheer you ladies up.”
“Oh.” I tried to smile. I had been looking forward to him coming home. I was thinking of sneaking into his room, after Nana and Jean had gone to sleep. I wasn’t going to jump into bed with him, but I thought we might start with a little conversation. “When will he be back?”
“Tomorrow.” Bettes shrugged. “I guess he’s bringing back a prospect from SoCal. We moved the party until tomorrow, in case you were thinking of going.”
“Party?” I asked. “I didn’t realize there was another Family Night so soon. I thought they were only once in a while.”
“No.” Bettes shook her head. “It’s just a regular biker party. It’s definitely more risqué than Family Night. I don’t always go to these things, but if you’re going, I thought you might like to have a friend.”
“Well, I didn’t get invited.” I stared down at my coffee and stirred it. “So I’ll probably just stay home.”
“Oh...” Bettes frowned. “I thought you and him were, you know, getting close.”
I didn’t respond. What would I say—I was having second thoughts about pushing him away? Or how about, I just couldn’t keep my hands off his chest?
“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted. “I like him, but he’s my boss.”
“I understand. Well, you can always come as my guest.” Bettes squeezed my hand and stood up to leave. “I’m not sure if the other ladies are going, but they would love to see you too, and you haven’t met Miri yet. Things usually start going around eight or so. Think about it.”
* * *
Should I go to the party? That question ran through my head for the rest of the evening and into the next day. Clint hadn’t invited me and I wasn’t sure he wanted me there. Bettes said it was more risqué than Family Night, so I imagined there would be other women there, probably not all wives and girlfriends.
I hopped in the shower that evening while Nana and Jean made dinner. I told myself I wasn’t getting ready for the party. Not at all. As the hot water ran down my back, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I had turned him down when we kissed. I closed my eyes and remembered that kiss. He’d been so warm and strong as I leaned against him. When he kissed me, it was like he knew what I needed at that very moment. But I told him he was my boss and that we couldn’t be anything more. So if he was looking to get laid, he wasn’t looking in my direction. That’s why he didn’t invite me.
But I really wanted him. I’d been looking at the medallion on my dresser every night. It had been my little piece of him while he was away. It was a secret he had shared with me, something that connected us.
Except he hadn’t actually invited me to this party. Maybe there was a reason why he hadn’t invited me. He seemed nice, and not like the extremist I’d first thought he might be. But what about his friends? Did they all feel the same way he did?
Using a hand towel, I wiped the condensation off the mirror in the bathroom. Everything was still a little fuzzy from the steam, but I studied my complexion. I never fit in anywhere—stuck in some sort of weird limbo. I was never good enough for the neighborhood kids in Cleveland, and then when we went out on the road and lived out of our car, I was never good enough for anybody. What had previously been whispers turned into requests for us to leave. No matter how much money Pop had in his pocket, the waitresses would always eyeball us, waiting for the homeless family to steal the spoons.
When Mama was still around, it was harder in a way. My sister and I were obviously the children of the homeless black man and the poor misguided white woman who didn’t know any better. Sometimes the churchies would come around and try to save our souls—like we were already tarnished by our skin color. When Mama left—she up and walked out on her job at the truck stop, and we never saw her again—we just became the black homeless family. The missionaries stopped coming around. We lived in a field in Georgia for nearly a year as we waited for Mama to come back. When Pop finally accepted that Mama was gone for good, he fixed up the car and we headed west, and didn’t stop until we hit Seattle.
This house—with Clint—was the first time I’d really had a home. I’d always lived with roommates as an adult and those places always felt like crash pads. Living with my patients never felt like home. Then in my apartment with Tony, our schedules were so opposite, I never saw him. I was living alone with some other guy’s stuff m
ost of the time. But it wasn’t like that with Clint and Nana. I enjoyed coming home after class, and when I thought of home, it was this place. Clint had given me his medallion, so at least I knew that he felt something for me. What exactly, I wasn’t sure.
Nor did I really know what I felt about him. But I did know that I wanted to see where things went. I wrapped my hair up in a towel and got dressed. I would go to that party, uninvited. I wasn’t the awkward homeless kid, who was worried about not being good enough anymore. I was a confident woman and I wanted him.
* * *
There was definitely a party tonight. I pulled into the parking lot at the clubhouse and saw a huge trash can with a fire in it. Several guys were crowded around it and drinking.
My first real biker party. No turning back.
“Hey, Jo,” someone called as I walked across the asphalt. Roach jogged up to me. “The boss man didn’t say you were coming.”
“Hey, Roach.” I smiled. “Where’s Clint?”
“Uh...” Roach rubbed the back of his neck and looked toward the square industrial building. “He’s, uh, inside. Shooting darts or something. Can I get ya a beer?” Roach tugged on my arm and we started off in the direction of the bonfire and a large keg.
“Sure.” I studied Roach. I didn’t know him well, just from moving in furniture, but he seemed nice. I spotted a knife strapped to his belt. “That’s a nice switchblade.”
“Thanks.” He took it out of the sheath and handed it to me. “She’s a real beauty. Picked her up at the gun show last fall.”
When I was finished looking at the knife, I returned it to him and he got me a beer. I sipped my drink and tried to make conversation. “So, how’s it going at the shop?” I asked. “You guys liking it?”
“Hell yeah.” He grinned. “This lady brought in a real sweet little Aston Martin. Never seen one of those in person before. Steering wheel was on the wrong side and everything. Took it for a spin around the lot, real fucking trip. Best job I ever had.”
Outlaw Ride Page 8
