by Debra Kayn
"To sleep in your spare room?" She shook her head. "I'll buy groceries. That's it."
The music came back on, blaring throughout the house.
Angie shouted, "Whatever, but you have to keep the place clean."
Leaving her sister in the room, she passed the biker in the living room, hitting a bong as he headed toward the bedroom. She looked over her shoulder and read the back of his vest. Her lip curled in disgust.
She wasn't sure if it was the fact that her sister was dating a loser or that the Tarkio Motorcycle Club vest had her instantly disliking the man. He was from the same club that the man who'd ordered her to leave Missoula—as if he was mayor or something.
Angie's boyfriend had a long tail of hair at the back of his neck, swinging back and forth across the leather vest. She had an urge to find a pair of scissors and snip the long line of hair from his head.
Her sister was pathetic. Angie would never find whatever she searched for in life because she always wanted what everyone else had. The bikers would continue to treat her like a whore until Angie got bored.
There would always be another asshole ready to jump into a relationship with her sister.
She knew that because the same thing had happened to her. Big jumped into her life and turned into an asshole.
She was done with bikers.
She gathered her belongings from the car and returned to the house. Not in the mood to get to know her sister's new boyfriend, she shut herself in the room and fell into bed.
The mattress wasn't much better than the lumpy one in the motel.
Loud laughter permeated the bedroom wall, followed by thumping. She hugged her middle. The feeling of loneliness was nothing new to her.
Even when she had Big, she spent most of her nights alone.
No one ever noticed her. Not even Angie took time out of her night to find out why she needed to stay here.
Just like yesterday when she pulled the pistol on Big, forcing him to leave her alone. He'd laughed at her threat. At that moment, she regretted shooting at the ground. She should've shot his balls off.
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Even that biker who'd shown up and told her to leave Missoula failed to see her.
She could've shot him, too. If she'd wanted to.
Her eyes burned behind her lids.
She needed more time. Time to make more money and bounce back from the situation she found herself in, again.
Serving pie and coffee all day long at Mama Jean's Pie Shoppe made it possible to live independently if she found a cheap enough place to rent.
But even her job was lonely.
The customers weren't there to see her. They wanted to eat. Apple pie was more important than her.
She needed to hang around other people instead of those at the Cusclan clubhouse.
She needed to find a man who put her first in his life. Sex was overrated. She wanted a meaningful relationship. Someone better than any man out there who would hold her and fight to be with her.
Her throat tightened. She sniffed, refusing to cry.
Chapter 3
Whip
Whip burst out of the Tarkio clubhouse. "Where's Ringtail?"
Frank, Slick, Wyatt, and Paco turned toward him. Someone had to have seen Ringtail leave.
"He's probably following his dick." Slick broke away from the others and lowered his voice. "He's been hanging out with that new blonde-haired girl that parties on the weekend."
"Fuck'n asshole." He shook his head. "He's supposed to work at Promise tonight and never showed up. Hammer has a full house and had to call Faye in. Curley's about ready to go off on everyone in sight. He wants her home. Now."
"She's pregnant, ain't she?" asked Slick.
"Yeah." Paco took his hands out of his pockets. "What's the chick's address? I'll go drag him away."
"She lives over on South Tenth. A white house with a picket fence falling down in the front yard. If he's there, you'll see his bike." Slick pointed to the southeast. "Past Pine Street."
"I'll get him." Whip stepped toward the long line of motorcycles. "If he drops by here while I'm gone, tell him to get his ass to the bar."
"Will do."
He grabbed his helmet, started his Harley, and rode out.
As a patched Tarkio member over the last two years, Ringtail knew better than to skip out when on the roster to work at one of the Tarkio businesses. Priest would dock his pay if he heard he never showed up to work his shift, like everybody else.
There was a time to party, enjoy women, and then a time for club business. But being a Tarkio meant every member was on the clock, twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year, for a lifetime.
If Ringtail fucked up, he'd regret the consequences.
He slowed on Tenth Street, scanning both sides of the road, looking for a white house. There were vehicles littered along the street, some he suspected hadn't moved for months.
Two kids ran out onto the road, waving at him as if he was in a fucking parade. He revved the engine, making them scatter back to the broken sidewalk.
Spotting Ringtail's motorcycle parked in the driveway of a small white house, barely big enough to fill the lot, he pulled over to the curb.
In the side mirror, the children ran toward him. He got off the bike, took off his helmet, and turned, ready to intercept the kids before they touched his Harley.
"Hey, mister." The tallest boy skidded to a stop. "Can we sit on your motorcycle?"
He studied the boys and took out his wallet. They weren't teenagers yet. Maybe eight or ten years old.
Holding two five-dollar bills in front of him, he met their gazes. They lived in one of the shittier neighborhoods. A lot of crime went down on the four blocks this side of town. Yet, he'd bet the boys knew how to hold their own and knew everything that went down in the neighborhood.
He held the cash out of reach of their grubby hands. "I need you both to watch my bike. Don't let anyone touch it, including both of you. Can you do that?"
Both boys nodded their heads. He handed them each a bill.
"If I come back and you're not standing here, I'll find you."
"We'll stay." The taller boy looked at his friend. "Won't we, Allan?"
Now that he knew his bike was safe, he walked up to the front door of the house. Music blared inside, and he kicked the bottom of the door, making sure whoever was inside would hear.
After several minutes, a young woman opened the door and backed away upon seeing him. Ringtail walked out of the hallway into view, slipping his vest on.
The music quieted. He waited until Ringtail caught sight of him, then motioned him outside.
His MC brother raised his brows. "What's up?"
"You were scheduled to work tonight at Promise. Hammer wanted you there an hour ago."
"Fuck, man. I lost track of time." Ringtail moved to go back into the house.
He grabbed Ringtail's leather. "Forget her, and go."
"I'm grabbing my smokes."
Whip let him go, waiting to make sure he got his ass on the road and headed toward Promise. This was the last time he'd bail him out. The next time Ringtail forgot to show up to work, he was on his own, and Priest could dock his damn pay.
Ringtail walked down the hallway out of sight. Less than twenty seconds later, another woman strolled into the living room. Whip took in the other girl, her hair wrapped in a towel, obviously coming from the shower.
No wonder his MC brother couldn't keep track of time trying to entertain two women.
The woman glared at him. He cocked his head, wondering about the animosity directed toward him. He hadn't done anything. All he was doing was looking, and the last time he checked, that wasn't illegal.
"You." She crossed her arms and approached the door. "What are you doing here?"
Lost to what he'd done to piss her off, he took in her breasts, jiggling against her shirt, and a surge of interest took hold of him.
She stopped, lifted her
arm, and slammed the door in his face. He rocked back on the heels of his boots. The only way he would leave was if Ringtail got his ass out of the house and went to the bar.
The door opened again. Ringtail slipped a cigarette in his mouth. "Sorry about that, brother. The chicks are fighting something crazy. I've never seen two sisters hate each other that way."
"You don't have time for that shit. Ride like hell. Promise is overflowing." He walked toward the driveway, following his MC brother. "You'll be lucky if Priest doesn't rip you a new asshole."
"I hear you, bro," mumbled Ringtail, stopping at his bike. "I'm going."
Behind him, a woman shouted. He looked over his shoulder. In the doorway, the two women argued.
Ringtail hesitated. Out of patience, Whip lifted his chin. "Just go."
Whatever was going on inside wasn't any of Ringtail's business. Tarkio came first.
The roar of the Harley muted the argument. Whip stayed out of Ringtail's way until he rode off. Then, he walked out to his Harley.
The two boys were hunkered down beside his motorcycle, looking at the chrome. He walked toward the kids as they caught sight of him, and scrambled to stand before he reached them.
"You're off duty." He sat on his bike and grabbed his helmet.
"How old do you have to be to ride one of those?" The oldest boy pointed at the motorcycle.
"Fifteen years old when you get a license." He put on his helmet, leaving the strap dangling. "Then, you'll need to wait three more years until you're strong enough to hold up the bike."
"It's heavy?"
"Yep." He caught movement in the driveway and lifted his head.
The woman with the towel wrapped around her hair lugged a suitcase down the driveway. He eyed her legs, having not noticed they were bare under her long t-shirt before the door slammed.
"Hey, boys? Why don't you go help that lady with her bag?" He never took his eyes off her. "See if she needs help."
The kids ran off, quick to do his bidding.
At the door of the house, the other woman threw a sack outside. A hairbrush went scattering across the broken concrete.
The woman, in her hurry to gather her things, bumped into one of the boys. The towel on her head came undone, spilling her hair.
Blonde hair.
Whip's chest tightened. He recognized her from somewhere.
She snatched up the towel, took the sack from the kid, and stomped to the car parked in front of his motorcycle, completely ignoring him.
At the driver's door, she dropped everything and turned in a circle, patting her hips as if searching for something. Then, she dropped to her knees and opened her suitcase. Whip craned his neck, appreciating the sexy sight in front of him.
The two boys giggled, pointing at her. He let them have their fun. No matter the age, any male would enjoy two sweet cheeks peeking up at him.
She remained oblivious to baring her backside to the neighborhood. When she straightened, she rushed to get into the car. Before he could shake the arousal off him, she pulled away from the curb and drove away.
Only when he got a good look at the car could he place where he'd seen her before. She was the chick that tried to shoot the Cusclan member the other night.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, starting his Harley.
He took off in the same direction. By the time he reached the stop sign at the end of the block, she'd driven out of sight.
What in the hell was Ringtail doing getting mixed up with women who belonged to Cusclan Motorcycle Club?
He changed directions and headed toward Promise. It was time to sweep the club again and get rid of the weak.
Chapter 4
Whip
Ringtail landed on the table. Glass shattered on the concrete floor. Ignoring the pain in his right hand, Whip grabbed Ringtail by the front of his vest and hauled him to his feet again.
Brother or not, he'd kill any fucker who turned their back on Tarkio.
"That's enough." Priest approached him. "Take him outside before you two bust up the whole bar."
He pushed Ringtail toward the back of Promise Bar, preferring to keep Tarkio business away from paying customers.
Hammer tossed him a towel as he pushed through the swinging door to the back room. He slapped Ringtail with the cloth, handing it off. His MC brother was in worse shape than him.
Whip stepped away from the building, hunting down his pack of cigarettes and finding them in his vest pocket. He hadn't planned on fighting tonight, especially at the bar with a crowd of people watching him.
But he couldn't get a straight answer out of Ringtail about his involvement with a woman belonging to Cusclan Motorcycle Club.
Priest walked outside. "All right, somebody start talking. What the hell is going on?"
He raised his brow, passing the reason off to Ringtail to explain. Everyone knew his position within the club since returning from prison. He kept everyone in line and loyal.
If he had a beef with a member, he was responsible for making sure he got the members to honor Tarkio's bylaws and curtail any activities that would bring danger to the club.
Ringtail held the towel to his nose. "I was late for work."
Whip lit the cigarette and exhaled harshly. Priest knew him better than that. He never made it a habit to fly off the handle over one of the members turning up late or sleeping off a hangover.
"I want the whole story and make it short," said Priest.
"I was with this girl I've been hanging around. I lost track of time." Ringtail lowered the towel, cleared his throat, and spit on the ground. "Swear on the patch, Prez."
Priest looked to Whip. He gave a slight shake of his head. There was no crime to stick your dick in a hole.
He inhaled deeply, drawing the smoke into his lungs, and on an exhale, said, "I found him with two women who belong to Cusclan."
"Bullshit." Ringtail laughed harshly. "I was only with one, and Angie doesn't belong to anyone, especially those assholes."
"Then, explain to me why just the other night, Rick and I witnessed one of the blondes taking potshots at a Cusclan member," said Whip.
"Is this the same incident you told me about across from the shop?" Priest widened his stance.
He nodded. "She came out of the same house where I found Ringtail, pissed off at the world when I fetched him from the house. I stayed until after he'd left. It looked like she was leaving. She had a suitcase—"
"That's Angie's sister, man." Ringtail held the bridge of his nose. "She showed up a couple of days ago, needing a place to crash. I don't know shit about her, except her and Angie don't get along. They fight like cats every time I'm over there."
"What's her last name?" asked Priest.
"Hell if I know." Ringtail rubbed the front of his chest.
"If they're sister, you know," said Whip.
"Angie's last name is Landers." Ringtail grimaced on a groan. "If you're thinking I'm messing with Cusclan—"
"We're trying to keep you from losing your life." Whip tossed the cigarette.
Like his dad had done when he was alive, he made sure the Tarkio members had the best chance at living a longer life than if they were sent out on their own. He couldn't have members rubbing shoulders with their enemies.
"Report to Curley in the morning at the clubhouse. Give him all the information you have on this girl and her sister. We'll run a background check on them and see what we're going up against. In the meantime, I don't want you around either one of them. Don't answer the phone. Don't drop in at her house. If you see them on the sidewalk, you'd better be riding in the opposite direction." Priest paused. "Understood?"
"Yeah, Prez," said Ringtail.
Priest mouth hardened underneath his beard. "Where did you meet them?"
"It's just Angie. I met her at the clubhouse." Ringtail looked at both of them. "She came to a couple of the Tarkio parties."
"Until we know more about this Angie woman." Priest frowned. "What did you say her sister's na
me was?"
"Her name is..." Ringtail looked at the ground. "Damn, it was a weird one. Tu...Twi...that's it, Twyla."
"That'll help figure out who they are. I haven't heard that name around here," said Priest.
Twyla? Whip crossed his arms. The name fit. She was a strange one. Half wild woman and half little girl.
"I want you on this."
Whip snapped his gaze to Priest. The last thing he wanted was his time taken away by women.
"You know what they both look like. Once we figure it out, we can plan what to do."
"We're not going to hurt them, are we, Prez?" Ringtail rubbed his knuckles on his right hand. "Honestly, I don't think they're...at least Angie isn't involved with Cusclan."
"If she is, we'll find out." Priest stepped back. "Get back to work, Ringtail."
Ringtail dipped his chin and walked back into the bar. Whip watched him go. There was no bad blood between them. Each member knew what to expect if they fucked up. He was only doing his job.
But if he caught any of them consorting with their enemies, he wouldn't hesitate to bury them.
"I'm heading to the clubhouse and then going home." Priest slapped Whip's chest. "Good job."
"Nicole and the baby doing okay?" Whip turned toward the back door.
Two months ago, Priest's woman delivered at home with her parents by her side. A half dozen Tarkio members stood outside in support of Priest, who had at least three trucks ready in case he needed to get his old lady to the hospital. He'd never seen a man lose it the way Priest had when he held up the baby in the window for them all to see.
Little Rebecca and her momma had Priest wrapped around their fingers.
"Yeah, both are doing good. Nicole's folks left over the weekend." Priest opened the door. "It's nice to have the house back to ourselves."
He chuckled. "I bet."
"Are you hanging around Promise for a while?"
"I can."
"Keep an eye on Ringtail."
"Do you think there's more to those two women hanging around him?" His chest tightened, hating that one member could put the whole club at risk.
