Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  The seasoned Gypsy just nodded, then shot dagger-sharp glares at the bleeding brother before heading off. It was a long walk to Hazeldale, and the youngest one was likely going to end up dead somewhere outside of Markham. Rusty shut the gates and Jayce turned to face the rest of them.

  “Get some sleep. Keep folks close to the compound. I think the cartel will want their shit back enough to deal with us.”

  Buck frowned. “I don’t know about muling for a cartel, Jayce. That’s pretty big. And across an international border? Canada ain’t Mexico.”

  Jayce nodded. “I know. I’ll toe the line that we found it and are returning it as a favor. If they decide to punish the Gypsys for losing it in the first place, oh well.”

  “I prefer to not be on a cartel’s radar at all,” Buck added. “Pot’s one thing but this is big money.”

  “I know,” Jayce replied evenly. “And they’ll be more pissed at the Gypsys than us.”

  Buck knew that revenge for Skip was at the core of everything Jayce was doing right now. And while he agreed on some level he couldn’t justify putting the rest of their asses on the fire to make a point. Smart revenge was still the best kind in his book. And he really really didn’t want to do business with the cartel. That was more heat and pressure than they were used to.

  “Get some rest,” Jayce was instructing their group. “We reach out to the Galiendo cartel tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy the hospitality.”

  The Nomads grumbled their agreement enthusiastically, but all Buck wanted to do was drag his tired ass to bed. The adrenalin was still zinging in his blood and he was sure Gertie was asleep in his bed by now. When they planned this ambush everyone called their families into the compound, so Trinny and the kids were asleep in Jayce’s bed and Jolene was warming her old man’s, too. And when Buck pushed open the door to his room the form sleeping soundly under his covers was Gertie.

  He undressed quickly after locking the door and slid in behind her carefully. He had to hold her though, he knew that would calm him somewhat. But as he pressed his front to her back and registered how warm and soft she was she turned, her bare chest meeting his and doing exactly the opposite of soothing him.

  “Hi,” she whispered, sweet and sleepy.

  “Hey honey,” he returned, her kiss cutting him off and encouraging him to roll her to her back.

  She giggled against his mouth, pulling back as her hands ran down his chest. “What’s got you so worked up?”

  He grinned, but it was dark so she couldn’t see it. “Can’t tell you, honey. But you’re gonna help me get over it, right?”

  She moaned as he kissed her again, giving him the yes he’d been expecting.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Since being shown to her table at Schmidt’s Gertie had checked her watch a grand total twelve times. She was on her lunch break and meeting her father, finally getting a hold of him after nearly three weeks of unreturned calls. She ordered her lunch simply because she only had an hour break.

  Her bread basket arrived just as Louis Dénise did, mumbling his apologies and falling into the seat opposite from her wearing a flannel shirt and old jeans, a ratty ball cap and sunglasses.

  Gertie almost didn’t even recognize him and was preparing to call the host over to have him thrown out of the place. When he took off the sunglasses and skulked in place to look around she knew it was her father. In all her life she’d never seen him dressed this way. He hadn’t shaved in weeks either. It didn’t help her resolve to get him to fix the shit she’d landed in.

  He leaned across to kiss her cheek but his eyes darted around the dining room. Yes, they were inside Schmidt’s, at his request. Seeing him as he was right then, Gertie proceeded to get properly freaked out.

  “Dad,” she hissed, leaning close. “What the hell is going on? Where have you been?”

  He inhaled, sliding his glasses into the pocket of his flannel shirt. In all her life she had never seen him wear anything plaid. And jeans? Only on weekends working in the yard. “Sorry Gertie,” he mumbled, running both hands over his stubbled face. “Things have not been good.”

  She surveyed their immediate neighbors. Satisfied the other patrons were uninterested in them, she whispered. “Do you have gangsters after you?”

  His face paled. “Who’s been asking?”

  She frowned. “Dad, what happened?”

  He shook his head and reached for his ice water. “Bad business honey, I’m so sorry. My partners and I got … a bit desperate.”

  Gertie shifted in her chair as the waiter arrived to take her father’s order. He just asked for a salad, not looking at a menu at all. Once they were alone she ventured to ask more. “Dad, how do gangsters here in Bakersfield have anything to do with this?”

  When his head came up sharply her stomach shrunk. He didn’t know about this, and it was confirmed as he barked out, “Have they approached you?”

  Tears were burning her eyes. “They know where I work, Dad. They knew about the trips to Vancouver, and they’ve got me bringing stuff back with me.”

  He was quiet for a moment, swallowing visibly. “What stuff?”

  Gertie inhaled and closed her eyes as she whispered, “Oxy, Dad. I’m bringing Oxy back from Canada for them.”

  His jaw clenched. “Did they get to you through this biker? This guy that’s been spending time with you?”

  She shook her head and wiped at her eyes. “It’s got nothing to do with Buck. He doesn’t even know about it. His club isn’t exactly on friendly terms with them, which is going to make even bigger trouble for me.”

  With a groan he wrapped both hands around the back of his head, resting his elbows on the table. Absently Gertie wondered whose hat that was, because there was no way in hell her father owned a Yankees ball cap. Or a flannel shirt for that matter. This was all a disguise and it ratcheted her panic up another three points.

  “Dad,” she whispered, leaning in closer. “Please talk to me. What do I do? I’m going to get caught, I just know it. If not by the border guards then Buck will find out. I don’t want him mad at me, Dad. I can’t take that. He’s important to me.”

  Her father suddenly reached for her hands. “Gertie, sweetheart -”

  She pulled her hands back. “Dad, I have to tell Buck. This is killing me. I need him to get me out of this, if he can.”

  Louis Dénise mulled that over. “I don’t know, Gertie-Bird. I don’t think he can help us.”

  Gertie frowned. “No offense Dad, but I’m preoccupied with me at the moment. I didn’t get in trouble with mobsters. How is this my fault?”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his face again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Gertie’s chicken almandine arrived right then, and she asked for a beer to go with it. Why not? She sure as fuck needed one.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” her father finally asked when the waiter was gone. “Please. I’m trying to get the money back, and when I do it’ll just go away.”

  Gertie picked her fork through her meal. “I don’t know, Dad. What if they won’t let me stop until I get caught? I’ve already lied so much. I could lose my job, Dad.”

  His exhaling breath was shaky, and Gertie’s blood officially chilled at that. He was fucked, which meant she was fucked too. If there was a way out of this she had to find it herself.

  She ate her meal in the time it took him to finish his salad. He said he’d forgotten his wallet, which was another terrifying indication of how his life was going at present. Gertie paid for both lunches and headed back to work, her stomach not enjoying digesting the meal she’d barely tasted as it was going down.

  Now more than ever, Gertie was resolved to come clean to Buck. She had to, and not just to cover her own ass. Her father needed help too, but she doubted that Buck would see that as a reason to do anything. But maybe for her. Maybe.

  At her desk she set to answering emails, but her brain was mush, operating as fast as oatmeal. She felt that she’d never get caught up w
ith work just as Tanya, the HR traitor, knocked on her door. She was properly reluctant to speak, so Gertie held her tongue. “Yes?” she asked tersely, turning away from her computer.

  “Sorry to bother you. Mr. Davidson has issued this notice,” Tanya said, coming forward and placing a paper on her desk. “All staff are to report for drug testing before the end of the day. Someone caught a guy in the mailroom with meth.”

  The world came to a screeching halt. Gertie picked up the paper, shocked that her hands were steady, and she read the directive from their boss. When all employees signed their contracts with Davidson’s Investors, it included a clause that they accepted such measures as drug tests to ensure the healthiest work place possible. To her knowledge, a random testing had never taken place.

  Fuck.

  “Thank you,” she replied, realizing Tanya was still watching her. Tanya nodded and cleared the room quickly, leaving Gertie to reexamine what would undoubtedly lead to her downfall.

  Half a Sunshine Oxy tablet, just the night before while Buck was out of town. That had been all, but it would certainly show up. And she did not have a doctor’s note. Plus she had a beer for lunch.

  No, that wasn’t it. She’d had the other half of that Sunshine just that morning.

  Shit.

  Was it worse that she was taking Oxy first thing in the morning, or that she’d forgotten all about it?

  “For fuck’s sake,” she mumbled, tossing the memo into her recycling bin. She was screwed. So screwed.

  If she’d had notice, maybe she could get someone else’s piss. And that was likely the reason they sprung it on their employees, wasn’t it? This day was going to shit supremely fast. Could she feign being sick? Tell someone her lunch hadn’t agreed with her? Hell, it was her only option.

  Looking like she didn’t feel well wouldn’t be hard. She was more than prepared to vomit if she had to. She shut down her computer, switched off her office light and headed for the elevator. The drug tests were being conducted through the staff room, right in line with the bank of elevators she was standing at.

  Maggie came bounding up to her, all blonde enthusiasm and extra perky as though she knew Gertie really couldn’t handle it at the moment. “Hey! Did you hear about these mailroom twits? What a couple of idiots. They brought their meth pipe to work. What the hell?”

  Gertie gave a weak smile. “So stupid,” she agreed.

  Maggie’s expression changed, putting her hand on Gertie’s arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

  Gertie shook her head. “I feel so sick. I think my lunch might have been a bit off. I feel like shit.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened and she unconsciously stepped away, clearly not wanting to catch this if it was contagious. “Shit,” she mumbled. “Did you already take the piss test?”

  Gertie rubbed her forehead, and it was legitimately clammy. “No, not yet. I don’t know if I can.”

  Maggie chewed her lip. “They might not let you leave until you do it. I know when you feel gross the last thing you want to do is piss in a cup, but just go get it over with. I’ll tell Mr. Davidson you had to go home.”

  Shit. This was worse. If she hadn’t run into anyone she actually knew she’d be gone. Although, Tanya dropped off the memo which meant Gertie had to have known this was happening.

  And it was. Maggie was pulling her by the arm to the staff room where a nurse was waiting, dressed in purple scrubs and those plastic shoes, offering a professional smile. With a disembodied voice someone provided her name, and it registered that Gertie was the one saying it. She was handed a cup, and she basically floated to the ladies’ room. There was a line for the stalls, which meant her stomach was really churning by the time she was locked in a compartment.

  As Gertie did her business she took a moment to say farewell to her place of employment, truly appreciating the fact that she’d managed to land a well-paying job for a great company she liked and respected. And she apologized, telepathically, to the establishment for betraying their trust as she had. And she also lamented the fact that she was no better than her own drunk of a mother, unable to cope so therefore she preferred to be under the influence of whatever she could get her hands on.

  These were the thoughts running through her dazed mind as she handed the cup over and nodded over Maggie’s sympathies as her friend led her to the elevator. When the doors opened, Gertie felt something strange come over her and she suddenly stooped to hug Maggie, feeling how the younger woman stiffened under the unexpected show of affection.

  “You’ve been a good friend,” she shared, sounding overly magnanimous.

  Maggie laughed, mostly uncomfortable, and patted her back. “Go home and sleep. You’re delirious.”

  Gertie did as told, reaching her condo before she realized she’d left her office building. She wasn’t sure how long it took, she was just suddenly home. As she undressed from her office wear there was one sad glimmer of hope.

  Losing her job would make getting that Sunshine back into the states a hell of a lot harder. They’d have to cut her loose if she wasn’t of any use. Right?

  She had no idea. She padded into the kitchen to retrieve the three-quarters-full bottle of white wine she had in the fridge. She needed to just fall asleep, then go into work on Monday and face the music.

  Coming clean to Buck was going to hurt, though. He might leave her. Hate her. She hoped like hell his club had no cause to be angry with her, too. She had no idea if they would do anything to her. She hoped not … She just didn’t know enough about them to be sure.

  Chapter Fifty

  “Just a broken seal,” Buck assured the kid who was sweating over the fact that his new-to-me Harley Softail hadn’t started that morning and left an oily puddle on the driveway. “Fixed it up, replaced the oil. She’s good to go.”

  The relief on the kid’s face was comical. “Thanks man,” he breathed, nearly limp. “Man, I spent all the cash from my summer job on this bike.”

  Buck smiled, taking in the battered classic that was likely older than its appreciative owner. “It was a good choice,” he assured the kid. “That bike runs sweet. She may be a bit beat up but the important parts are in perfect condition. Work your way up to a new paint job and I’ll be jealous of her.”

  That made the kid beam, actually flushing a bit. “Thanks,” he mumbled, pushing that ridiculous shaggy hair out of his face. “Didn’t really thrill my mom, though.”

  Buck nodded. “Just don’t do anything stupid on it. You have to be better on the road than those cage drivers, you got less protection. Assume everyone else is an idiot and an asshole and you should be fine.”

  The kid grinned and held up a fist. “Right on,” he replied as Buck pounded his own fist into it.

  “Now get the fuck out of here. You’re wrecking my street cred.”

  “How much I owe you?” The kid looked startled.

  “Don’t worry about it. Consider it a gift, in honor of you growing a pair of balls and getting on a bike.”

  Now the kid was beaming, nodding his head and spewing out his thanks as he swaggered to his ride, chest puffed up to bursting.

  Buck was grinning. He remembered that; being noticed by a Rebel when he was young and out with his mom, sucking back an ice cream cone of all the ridiculous things. He’s stared, mid-lick, as a huge, hairy mountain of a man passed the two of them outside the market. His mother had pulled him to her side as if expecting the man to snatch him away from her. “Looks like good ice cream,” he’d said to Buck, nodding and grinning.

  Not the same kind of praise, but at eight years old Buck might as well have had his sports idol point him out in the crowd and hand over an autographed jersey.

  “I know this place is technically a cover for our illegally-gained income,” Mickey mused from behind Buck, “but I do have a few people that I need to pay for their work.”

  Buck smiled. “A seal and a can of motor oil? Take it off my check, man.”

  Mickey eyed him up with curiosity. “What�
��s gotten into you? You’re in such a weird mood. Like, a good mood.”

  “What am I? A miserable prick the rest of the time?” Buck circled around his legitimate-on-paper boss and started setting up his work station again.

  Mickey took a seat on his rolling stool, arms crossed, shrugging. “I don’t know. Usually you’re bland, actually.”

  “Bland?”

  Mickey nodded.

  “I’m bland?”

  “It’s not a bad thing,” Mickey explained, dead-pan. “You’re reasonable. Reliable. You know, dependable.”

  “I sound like a domestic pick-up truck,” Buck mumbled, sorting his wrenches by size.

  “But you’re so happy now. It’s weird.” Buck risked a look over his shoulder, and Mickey was scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I think Gertie’s good for you.”

  Buck shook his head. “Are we going for coffee and cheesecake? Because this is feeling like a chick discussion, man.”

  “How are things with Gertie? I just want to know where your head’s at.”

  Buck shut the drawer in his tool chest and turned to his brother. He shrugged. “I’m crazy about her. She makes me feel good. It’s nice to … have something else to look forward to. To want to come home to something other than a clubhouse of sweetbutts and booze. She’s funny. Quirky, a bit neurotic but I like that, too. The fact that I reassure her makes me feel … I don’t know, man. Good.”

  Mickey looked pensive, still.

  “What is it?”

  “Just … she drinks a lot, man.”

  Buck’s jaw tightened. “What?”

  Mickey sighed. “The last clubhouse party. Jolene was hanging with her at the bar and … she was putting them back better than some of the Rebels. And she was a mess by the time you two went to your room.”