“Especially after what?” she prodded.
He shook his head and pulled at his long, raggedy salt-and-pepper beard. She could hardly see his lips buried in all that untrimmed wiry hair but she could tell he was now frowning.
“Just listen to me, girl. Don’t be alone with him. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
A chill ran through her. She looked over her shoulder back to the closed meeting room door. “He’s prez though,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He tilted his pint glass to his lips and downed half his beer, then slammed it back onto the polished wood bar top. “Now... spill it or I will.”
“You’re ruthless, Grizz.”
“Yep.” He nodded. “How the fuck you think I survived long enough to get this grey?”
She leaned over the bar toward him and murmured, “Can’t tell anyone.”
“Right,” he grunted.
Right. He would run his mouth as soon as he could. Because of that she needed to make something up that was believable. She grabbed a can of pop from the cooler and after popping the top she took a sip, trying to come up with something that would satisfy Grizz’s curiosity.
“I was thinking about opening up my own computer store. Fixing computers, making the club a little extra green.”
He raised a bushy brow. “Instead of working with Ace and Dex?”
God, she hated lying to Grizz. It was like lying to her grandfather. But truth was, she really had thought about opening her own shop. Too many times to count. So it wasn’t a complete lie. “Yeah. It’d be something small. I could control my own income, not have a set salary.”
“You ain’t hurtin’ for money, are you?”
Shit. “No. I was just thinking about moving out of the apartment and getting a bigger place. Maybe getting a dog.”
His gnarled, arthritis-filled hand swatted in her direction again. “Your ass lives for free in that place. Why you wanna saddle yourself with a mortgage an’ all that extra bullshit?”
“You and Mama Bear have a nice house.”
“So? We’re hardly there.” That was true. They both practically lived at church. Grizz’s ass welded to his bar stool, Mama Bear in the commercial kitchen that was sandwiched between The Iron Horse Roadhouse, the public side, and the private club side of the bar.
“When I leave work, I’d like to leave work, not just walk up the steps.”
“Gettin’ customers buggin’ you after hours?”
“Sometimes. Not much.”
“Rude assholes.”
She agreed. There was no reason to show up at someone’s residence hoping to pawn something for some cash. Usually it was people who were hard up for cash, but still... She didn’t work twenty-four seven and customers needed to respect that.
“Get Ace to give you a raise an’ get your own place. Still work at the shop.”
Ivy shook her head. “I’m not taking advantage of my college education.”
“That’s why school’s a waste of fuckin’ money. None of us are hurtin’ an’ look at all the businesses the club owns an’ runs. No college needed. Just a fuckin’ scam. We take care of our own.”
Ivy sighed and took a sip of her cola. Something was off. Ah. A shot or two of spiced rum would fix what was missing. She leaned down to grab the Captain Morgan and a large, white paper caught her eye. It was tucked in between two bottles of liquor under the bar.
She pulled it out and stared at the drawing. “What’s this?”
“What’s it look like, girly?”
“A professional drawing.” It was a pencil drawing of a Harley, but one that was all tricked out, completely customized and it was badass with a capital B. Every small detail was carefully drawn, though it wasn’t finished. Some shading was missing, some lines incomplete. But it was well on its way to being one of the nicest bikes she’d ever seen. Nicer than the custom sled that Jag had built for himself and he had worked on that one for a couple years.
Too bad the Warriors had to go destroy it last night. Nothing good ever happened when they came out of the woodwork.
“Yep,” was all he said.
“Yep? Who drew it?”
The old man tilted his bearded chin toward the empty shot glass that remained on the bar. “Jag was here early this morning hittin’ the bottle, depressed about his sled bein’ trashed. Was sittin’ here doodlin’.”
Doodling? This was no doodle. The sketch reminded her of something a professional designer for a concept car company would draw, but on a computer and not by hand. The details Jag had put into it were exquisite.
“He plans on building this bike?”
“How the fuck do I know? He wasn’t sayin’ much. Wanted to be left alone. Wasn’t gonna bug the man like you bitches like to do. Jeez, woman.”
She looked toward the back of the clubhouse at the stairway that led to the rooms upstairs. “He up there?”
“I look like his keeper?”
Ivy bit her bottom lip to keep from freaking out on Grizz. She loved the old man, so she didn’t want to give him a taste of her temper. But it was spiking.
“Why was it down here?”
“Left it on the bar an’ Mama tucked it away so it wouldn’t get ruined.”
“This is really good,” she murmured, staring at the drawing once more. “Like really good.”
Like completely amazing. She knew he was an expert at custom body work but she never considered that actual art. But what she held in her hands was art for sure.
Jag was a freaking artist.
“Have you seen him draw like this before?”
Grizz’s answer was a scowl in her direction.
She carefully rolled up the thick drawing paper, grabbed a discarded hair band, probably left behind by one of the sweet butts that hung out at the club, and secured it. She headed toward the back door of the club where her car was parked.
“Where ya goin’ with that?”
“I’ll bring it back.”
“He ain’t gonna like it,” he shouted at her back as she pushed open the metal door and stepped out into the daylight.
“Probably not,” she whispered as the door latched closed behind her.
Not even fifteen minutes later she was standing in Sophie’s Sweet Treats with the sketch rolled out on top of the bakery’s counter. She stood shoulder to shoulder with her sister Bella, Zak’s ol’ lady Sophie, and Jewel, who rushed over after Ivy texted her and told her to get her ass over there pronto.
She obliged without even a question. Because that’s what the club sisterhood was about... having each other’s back.
“Damn,” Bella whispered, her eyes wide. “That’s fucking great.”
“I know,” Sophie also whispered.
There was no reason for them to whisper, but clearly they were in awe of Jag’s talent just the same as she was. And, apparently, being in awe made you whisper.
Ivy slid her gaze to Jewel. “You ever see Jag draw like this before?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Sure. He doodled when we were kids. Never saw nothing like this though. His doodles weren’t bad.”
“This is no doodle,” Bella said, her eyes landing on Ivy. “Where’d you find it?”
“Under the bar at church. Grizz said he was working on it this morning while he was downing shots of Jack.”
“Downing shots of Jack already this morning?” Bella frowned, then she nodded, a sad look coming over her. “Oh, the shit with his bike.”
“And other things,” Ivy added, not wanting to bring up the crap that went on between them at her apartment and she’d promised Pierce not to talk to anyone about the Knights thing. Though, Jewel knew. She lifted her eyes to Jag’s sister, trying to give her an unspoken message not to open her mouth.
Jewel just gave her a look, then scrunched up her face in answer. “Saw the remainders of his bike this morning. Didn’t think you could trash a sled so badly by just dragging it.”
“I saw it last night. It looked like they drove over it, too.”<
br />
Ivy realized her mistake when both Sophie and Bella’s eyes shot to her.
“Last night?” Bella asked. “You were with Jag last night?”
“Not what you think. Can we get back to his sketch?” She leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, looking directly at Jewel. “Seriously now... Jewelee, you ever see him draw anything like this before?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“He never brings in any sketches of the bikes he’s building into the shop?”
“Not like this. I’ve seen some rough sketches taped up in the bay he works in, but that’s about it. This one is pretty detailed.”
“I bet it’s for the bike he’ll build to replace his trashed one,” Sophie said, moving over to the display case and pulling out a tray of cupcakes. She slid it onto the glass top and handed one to each of the women, none of them refusing her amazing baked goods. “Key Lime,” she murmured before taking a big bite of her own.
Ivy tentatively licked the merengue topping, and when the tangy but sweet lime touched her taste buds, she shoved half of it in her mouth, her eyes rolling in ecstasy as she chewed. “Damn, that’s good,” she said as soon as she swallowed.
“Your sister made them,” Sophie answered, waving a hand toward Bella.
Bella just shrugged, her mouth full of cupcake.
Just then, Jewel and Jag’s sister Diamond walked in, the little bell clinking over the front door as it opened then closed.
“So what’s all the brouhaha that I have to haul my ass over here?” She stepped up to the counter and eyeballed the cupcakes. “New flavor or something?”
Sophie handed her a cupcake and immediately Diamond peeled the paper off the bottom and shoved half of it into her pie hole. Or cupcake hole more like it. “Holy fuck, that’s damn good!” Di said, with a mouth full of cake.
“I know, right?” Jewel said. She took the last bite of her own then wiped her hands on her jeans. “Come back here and look at what our brother has done.”
Di rolled her eyes. “What’s that shithead done now?” She walked through the counter opening and came up next to Ivy, her eyes immediately dropping to the drawing. “Jesus,” she whispered. “Jag do that?”
“Yeah,” Ivy breathed.
“That bonehead drew that?”
“Yeah,” Ivy repeated, a little louder.
“No fucking way.”
“Yeah, he did,” Ivy insisted. “It should be framed and on someone’s wall, right?”
“Hell yes, once it’s finished.” Diamond stepped back and faced Ivy. “Where’d you find that?”
“Under the bar.”
“Under the bar? At church?” Diamond asked, surprised.
“Yeah, Mama Bear found it and put it there for safe keeping.”
Diamond shook her head, then pursed her lips. “So, what’s the issue?”
“Think any of the brothers know?” Ivy asked her.
She hesitated, studied the drawing closer, then shrugged. “Doubt it. You think Jag would want to get ribbed about a talent like that? Being an artist?”
“Crow’s an artist,” Sophie pointed out.
Di snorted. “That handsome hunk of man-meat shoves needles and ink into skin and causes pain. Calls himself an ink slinger not a tattoo artist.”
That was true. No one called Crow an artist to his face. And she would assume that to the brothers a tattooist would be considered more manly than someone who sketched with pencils. Even if the sketches were motorcycles.
Sketches.
Most likely there were more than just this one. He certainly didn’t get this good overnight. Maybe he had a whole stash of them tucked away somewhere.
Hidden from all of them. Hidden from the world.
The man should be sharing his talent. Be proud of his skills.
Whatever. Typical biker, wanting to hide anything not “biker” worthy. They always have to act the ultimate badass. Keep their “rep.”
Pretty much all the brothers in the club did only the basics: grunted, burped, ate, drank, shit, fucked, and raised hell. They rode motorcycles, didn’t draw them.
Ivy frowned.
She needed to show the world Jag’s talents. She needed to find more of his drawings and show them to an art dealer, or post them online for sale, or... or... something.
Something needed to be done. She’d have to give this some serious thought.
Jewel whispered close to her ear. “I see trouble.”
Yeah. So did Ivy.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
She faced her close friend and DAMC sister. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
What she really wanted to do was drag Jewel into the back of the bakery and grill her on how Jag found out that she was at Dirty Dick’s the night before, but she thought about what Pierce said, and would deal with Jewel the next time they were alone. Not with their sisters standing around and their ears perked.
The bell above the front door jingled again, and all eyes pointed that direction as Axel walked in. He froze and his blue eyes widened when he saw the group of them.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then unfroze himself and moved closer. “A gaggle of biker babes. What’s going on here? You ladies up to no good?”
“At least you didn’t call us bitches like the rest of them do,” Jewel mumbled and elbowed Bella, giving her the what’s up with him? round eyes and brow raise.
Bella ignored her and broke away from the group. “You here for your daily sugar rush?”
“Yes,” he leaned into the display case, eyeing up the Key Lime cupcakes. “You bake those?”
Ivy eyed Axel in his police uniform like he was a cupcake. Maybe she should chase cops, be a badge bunny and stop bringing home geeks. They may be more up her alley. They might like a little rough sex, but not treat their women like property.
“Yes,” Bella answered him, handing him one. Then all eyes were glued to the cop as his tongue came out and he slowly licked off half of the merengue.
“Jesus,” Diamond whispered next to her. “If he wasn’t my cousin...”
Ivy elbowed her, but inconspicuously squeezed her own thighs together. Jag had left her hanging last night. He made her come once with his mouth, but she needed more than that. So watching Axel—who looked so much like his brother Zak, who Ivy had a crush on for most of her youth—use his tongue like that while pinning his gaze on Bella, just about made her come in her pants.
Bella was one lucky woman if she’d let Axel in.
But she wouldn’t and she won’t.
Bella wasn’t letting anyone in.
Plus, the brothers would shit a brick if Bella hooked up with a cop, even if he was Zak’s blood brother and related to a few of them.
Blood or not, Axel and his father Mitch were the law. And the law and the DAMC didn’t mix very well.
Not one of the women moved as they watched Axel finish licking all the merengue off the top of his cupcake. Then when he bit into the cake it seemed that the spell was broken and all of them relaxed, sighing in unison.
Then when the radio on his duty belt squawked, the women all blinked at each other with color in their cheeks.
“Fucking Axel,” Bella grumbled, turning away and shaking her head.
Jewel clutched her chest and leaned into Ivy, saying under her breath, “Holy fuck, that’s my cousin. Something’s wrong with me.”
The corner of Ivy’s lip twitched. “I think I hear banjos.”
Jewel’s eyes widened, then she laughed, smacking Ivy on the arm. “Gross.”
Ivy shrugged. “You need to go bleach your brain.”
“That’s for sure.”
Axel finished up a quick conversation full of cop-speak into the mic on his shoulder, then stepped closer to the counter. “What’s that?”
Shit.
His eyes were on Jag’s drawing. She rushed over to it and began to roll it up.
Axel held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
<
br /> Double shit.
“No.”
“Ivy,” he said in a cop’s tone, full of warning.
Ivy sighed and handed the sketch over. Since he hardly ever talked to any of the club brothers, even his own blood brother Zak, she wasn’t worried about him spilling the beans.
He snagged the drawing from her and laid it out on the counter, studying it. “What are you doing with one of Jag’s sketches?”
Ivy blinked. Diamond blinked. Hell, all the women just looked at Axel and blinked in surprise.
Ivy shook herself mentally. “You know Jag draws?”
He nodded, his short military style haircut not even moving a little bit. “Yeah. He did a sketch like this when he built my bike. Not quite this detailed but just as good. This looks like it’s going to be a nicer bike than mine. Or even his. Who is he building this one for?”
Ivy’s gaze swept over the women then landed on Axel, who was staring at Jewel. Which made sense. Not only was Jewel Jag’s sister, but they worked together at the body shop. If anyone should know, she should.
Which she didn’t.
But that was not here nor there.
“Probably himself,” Jewel finally answered.
“Why? He’s got a bike he spent like forty grand on.”
Forty grand?
Holy shit. And the Warriors just reduced it to a pile of rubble in minutes.
“Needs a new bike,” Jewel said.
His dark eyebrows pinned together. “Why? What happened to his old bike? Not that it was old...”
Ivy knew the cops weren’t called last night. No one reported what happened. Axel’s interest may be innocent, but if he found out the Warriors were involved and stirring up the beef between them and DAMC, he’d go into cop mode. And that wouldn’t be good for anyone.
Ivy shot Jewel a look, then stepped forward, laying a hand on Axel’s arm to draw his attention. “I think he’s just playing around with some ideas, that’s all.”
Axel nodded and took Ivy’s words as truth.
That was the second time she lied today. Well, she might have sort of lied to Jag early this morning in her apartment, too. “Sort of” didn’t count.
“Yeah, well, I’d love a bike like that. Can’t afford it on a cop’s salary, that’s for damn sure. Already paid Jag out the nose for the one I have.” He turned to Diamond. “Tell your brother, if he builds a new one, I’ll consider buying the one he has now. Upgrade my ride.”
Down & Dirty_Jag Page 13
