by Sky Winters
“That’ll do me,” he replied, taking the small piece of plastic she offered to him. He could see that it had his name and address printed on it. Bingo. He walked directly to the section filled with books on art and checked out several selections about how to draw figures, returning to check them out before leaving and making his way further down the street to a small sidewalk cafe.
“Black coffee and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese,” he told the waitress.
She looked at him appreciatively with a big toothy grin. He was used to the reaction from women. He had always come across as the tough, rugged type in his motorcycle gear. Today, though, he was in a suit that made him look like he had walked straight off the pages of Gentleman’s Quarterly. No one was more aware of how impressive he looked than himself. It wasn’t that he was smug or cocky. Nothing like that, but he had spent a lifetime watching people and he knew how he affected them. Men were intimidated, and women were aroused. It served him well.
Grant opened the first book, one on creating proper facial proportions and waited.
Chapter 4
“Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked some time later.
Grant knew he had been there for quite a while already and didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself. He was about to ask for the check when he spotted a small group across the way.
“Just a refill for my coffee and the check,” he told her.
“That must be quite the interesting book,” she replied.
“Fascinating,” he told her with a wink that sent her scurrying off with a giggle.
She returned a moment later to top up his coffee, dropping off the check and fluttering her eyelashes at him a bit. He nodded in her direction, noting the wounded look she cast toward him as she retreated once again. It made no difference to him. She wasn’t his type. Far too much makeup and far too little meat on her bones. He liked a woman with curves he could tour slowly with his hands, fingers, lips. The thought of it sent a little shiver along his spine. It had been a long time now.
He kept his eye on the entourage across the street, his interest hidden by the book that he had not read one word of in the past two hours, despite having appeared to be reading it intently. Soon, they began to make their way toward him, heading into the coffee shop they so frequently visited when in town. He pretended not to notice as he carefully assessed each of them.
Two women and three men. The women and one of the men went inside while the other two remained outside, watching the streets about them carefully. One cast a glance in his direction and then away, obviously discounting him as a book nerd in a suit. At least he had pulled that off, from the looks of it. He made no motion to move just yet. They would come to him soon enough.
“I’m so looking forward to a day of shopping! I haven’t bought new things in forever and not grown up things at all. It’s going to be so much fun,” the younger girl was gushing.
“Yes. You need to quit dressing like a twelve-year-old fence painter. You’re going to need to dress the part if you are going to get into a good art school next year.”
“I know, Amanda. I can’t tell you how much all of this means to me. Aspen has always taken good care of me, but he has no clue about being a girl.”
“You’re not a girl anymore. You’re a young woman and a beautiful one at that. He’s just going to have to get used to you not being hidden behind coveralls and caps, Mouse.”
“Elizabeth,” the young girl replied, taking a seat across from her at the table.
“Right, Elizabeth. I’m sorry. I’ve gotten so used to everyone calling you Mouse.”
“I suppose so. Everyone will get used to it now that my adoption is final. I am glad they let me change it. I never cared too much about being called Mouse, but it was better than Eunice. I don’t know why my biological parents would name a kid that. I like Elizabeth much better.”
“You should. You picked it and it’s on all your paperwork now.”
“Where are we going to go first?” the girl asked.
Grant pretended to be oblivious to their conversation, despite their close quarters. The men, including the one that had gone in with them, were all back out on the sidewalk now. Only the three of them sat in the little open table area right outside the front entrance. They always sat here. Rather than trying to interject himself into the conversation, he just waited for one of them to notice him. It was only a matter of time and if it didn’t pan out, he had a plan B to get their attention without it appearing he was putting any effort into doing so.
“Need another top up?” the waitress asked, stepping back out to check on him.
“No. I’m good. Thank you,” he replied, not raising his head from the book.
She was still pouting a bit as she turned toward the two women and checked on them. They, too, waved her away and continued their conversation, but something was different now. They knew he was here and he could see the younger one casting more than just a passing glance at the book he held in his hands. Bingo.
“Are you an artist?” she asked.
Grant pretended not to hear her, acting as if he was too engrossed in the book to notice she had spoken. She was quiet for a minute, going back to her conversation with the other woman. He waited a few more moments and then lay the book down carefully beside him and pulled his wallet free. Laying several bills on the table with the check, he sat a nearby sugar bowl on top to weight it down and replaced his wallet in his jacket.
“Excuse me,” she said again, this time waiting until she had his attention.
“Yes?” he replied in what he hoped sounded like a friendly tone.
“Are you an artist?”
“Oh. No. I’d like to be, but I’m not sure I have any natural talent. That’s why I got the books. Maybe it will help.”
The other woman looked up at him. The girl had called her Amanda, but Grant had already known who she was. Amanda Lowery, wife to be of Aspen Lowery, VP of the Silver Wolves. The younger girl would be the one they called Mouse, the one he had adopted recently, despite her being an adult now. It would seem she had chosen to change her name to Elizabeth as part of the process. He’d have to make a note of that.
“You are trying to draw faces?” she asked.
“Trying being the operative word,” he laughed.
“I could help you,” she said.
“Elizabeth!” the other woman said.
“What? I’m good with faces,” Elizabeth shrugged at her.
“Not with a stranger you just met in a coffee shop,” Amanda cautioned in hushed tones.
“She’s right you know. I could be a serial killer,” he said.
“I wasn’t implying,” Amanda began to say.
“I know you weren’t, but you are right,” he replied, turning back to Elizabeth.
He couldn’t help but note how attractive she was. Her long wheat colored hair hung well past her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes scrunched up a bit as the sun bore down on them. Her lips were full and pouty. She wore little makeup, possessing a natural pale ivory tone that gave her a porcelain complexion. She appeared no worse for wear from her recent attack, but he couldn’t really assess the full extent of any injuries she had gotten in the fray with her limbs hidden beneath a heavy coat.
What he could tell was that he was attracted to her in a way that would do him no favors in accomplishing the job he had been sent to do.
“I will let you ladies get on with your afternoon,” he said.
Elizabeth smiled at him bashfully, pulling at his core in a way he chose to ignore. Amanda smiled politely and nodded as he stood up. The library card slipped free of his book and landed perfectly by Elizabeth’s foot as she said her goodbyes. She watched it trail down in a feathery spiral and bent down to retrieve it, glancing at it as he tucked the art book back into his book bag.
“It was nice to meet you too, Grant,” she told him with a broad smile.
Bingo.
Chapter 5
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Grant made a point of situating himself at the little coffee shop in order to become better acquainted with Elizabeth Lowery and her newly appointed mother, Amanda. While the male members of the motorcycle gang were wary of letting a stranger into the fold, he had always found that women were much more pliable. Between their less suspicious nature and the obvious affect he had on the majority of them, it was usually the path of least resistance.
“Hello, Grant,” Elizabeth said as the pair of them sat down.
Amanda cast a glance at her daughter, obviously concerned about her knowing a relative stranger on a first name basis. Though she had been there each time they had encountered one another, she had never addressed him in more than a polite manner. She always sat there in the little partially enclosed sidewalk alcove with her coat pulled tightly around her and her thick frilly scarf draped down the front. Grant could hardly blame her for being cautious, but her demeanor said there was more to it than just that.
“Hello,” he replied. “I’m sorry. I’ve not gotten your names in all this time we’ve been coffee shop cohorts.”
“Elizabeth. This is uh, my mother, Amanda.”
“Mother? You don’t seem much older than your daughter,” he said, feigning his surprise.
Truth was he knew about as much about both women as could be found out. One advantage he had, and the prime reason he had been selected to infiltrate their group, was his contacts in law enforcement. There was a reason that a man accused of multiple murders was able to hide out with a bit more ease than someone less connected. He had to keep a low profile, but he also had a bit of help in doing so and access to a number of men and women who were more interested in him not being caught than bringing him to justice.
“I’m adopted,” Elizabeth offered.
“I’m sorry . . . Grant, was it? Have we met somewhere before?”
“No, not that I’m aware of. Seems we both just really like the coffee here.”
Amanda was not there when he had attempted to join the Silver Wolves and if Mouse was, he hadn’t seen her around. Aspen Lowery had dispatched him very quickly, so even those present wouldn’t have gotten a very good look at him. The only one that would recognize him was Aspen, and he was prepared to address that when the time came.
“You are from here?” Amanda asked.
“No. I came here last year from back east.”
“Really? What part?” Amanda asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Virginia,” he replied.
The truth was that he hadn’t been to his home state in years, well before he had been forced to flee to this unmapped town in Montana. Still, he carried enough of the accent to fake it when necessary. He had been called by many names since he had left his family behind and landed here, and anyone would be hard pressed to trace his identity back to where he came from.
“Can’t say I’ve ever been,” she replied.
“You haven’t missed much. Scenery here is much better,” he replied, glancing toward Elizabeth. As expected, she blushed.
“We have to get going,” she told him, nodding toward the usual band of brutes that always stood nearby on their outings.
“I understand. I need to get going myself,” he replied, dropping some cash on his table and making his way toward the door as they exited. “I guess I will see the two of you in a week or so.”
“A week or so?” Elizabeth was quick to say, lingering back for a moment as Amanda continued to the front door without realizing she wasn’t in tow.
“Yes. Business out of town, but hey, if you get bored or lonely, you can give me a call,” he said, pressing a business card from his pocket into her hand.
Elizabeth glanced at it and back up at him with a slow smile. “You’re an art collector?”
“Yes.”
“But you are always studying how to paint.”
“I know. Sad, isn’t it? An art lover who can’t create art himself.”
“I bet you are better than you let on,” she replied.
“Maybe you can drop in and see for yourself one day . . . if you ever have a moment to yourself without those bikers that seem to trail you here just to watch you have coffee.”
“Elizabeth, let’s go,” Amanda called out to her, realizing she had arrived at the exit without Elizabeth by her side.
“On my way,” Elizabeth called to her before turning back to him. “It was good to see you, Grant,” she said.
“Likewise,” Grant replied.
He looked up to find Amanda looking at him disapprovingly. He waved and headed in their direction, keeping enough distance from them so it didn’t appear he was following. His goal for the day had been accomplished and he didn’t want to undo what he had only just gotten planted. There was something else though, something he hadn’t counted on when he had begun this. Already, he found himself drawn to Elizabeth. She was a beautiful girl and seemingly very kind, gentle. It was unfair what he was going to do to her in the end, but she would recover. She would go on again, love someone worthy of her affections. At least that was his hope. He would hate to think the mistrust he would leave behind might haunt her future.
Garnering her interest, her curiosity, was the easy part. The hard part was going to come when he took the next step and Aspen got involved. The suspicion he detected in Amanda Lowery was going to be nothing compared to that of a man who had already rejected him once and had plenty to lose by trusting a stranger, especially on the heels of an attack on his clubhouse and the loss of trusted members of his pack. One wrong step could quickly cost him a lot more than just rejection. It could cost him his life.
He quickly made his way along the sidewalk away from them. The more disinterest he showed beyond polite conversation in the coffee shop, the better. Now, it was just a matter of waiting. He would stay away from the shop and hopefully Elizabeth would make the next move, come to him on her own. If not, he would have to come up with a new idea, but he knew women to be curious creatures when it came to a nice-looking stranger. Hopefully, she was exactly that.
Chapter 6
A week later, there was still no sign of a call from Elizabeth. Perhaps he had overestimated his effect on women, at least this woman. It looked like he was going to have to move on to his back up plan. It struck him that while the newest addition to the Lowery pack didn’t seem to be thinking about him, he had done nothing but think about her and not just as an avenue to getting into the Silver Wolves. He felt an unexplainable attraction to her, one that was anything but something he could afford.
He reached in the fridge for a beer and a bowl of leftover chicken salad. He missed the days when he used to have someone to cook his meals for him, but those days were long past now. Cooking was something he could learn to do, but he really just didn’t care to do so. Takeout and deli food worked just as well for the purposes of nutrition. He had only taken his first bite when the phone rang. Figured someone would call now that he had settled down to eat. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” he said into the speaker.
“Hi,” came a demure voice from the other end.
“Yes?” he replied, feigning ignorance as to who it might be.
“Oh. Sorry. It’s Elizabeth,” she said.
Grant hesitated, just long enough. He didn’t want to appear as if she meant anything more to him than just some random stranger he ran across in a coffee shop.
“From the coffee shop,” she added.
“Oh, Elizabeth. Yes, yes. Of course,” he said.
“You said I could call,” she told him, now sounding uncertain.
“Absolutely. I’m glad you did. I’m sorry. I was just busy with something and wasn’t connecting the dots. Of course, I know who you are. How could I forget such a beautiful smile?”
It was a bit cheesy, but she was a little younger than him. Twenty-two as compared to his twenty-four. A comment like that was sure to get a roll of the eyes from someone his age or a little older, but fr
om what he could discern, she seemed inexperienced. It was his guess that she’d only recently even developed any interest in the opposite sex. She was a late bloomer, as his mother would have said.
“I, um, I . . ..” She floundered a bit from the other end before finally latching on to some words. “I didn’t know if I should call.”
“What? No. Of course, you should call. I’m so glad you did.”
“Really? Good. I just wanted to talk to you a bit more about the art. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. What did you want to know?”
“I don’t know. I paint. I think I’m okay, but I was wondering if maybe you could take a look at some of the things I’ve done and tell me what you think?”
“Oh, yeah. I’d love to. You want to meet somewhere, and we can look through them?”
“It’s not that easy. All my work is done in murals other than some ridiculous sketches.”
“Well, I guess I could come and just look at the murals. Are they all in one place?”
Of course, he already knew the answer to this. They were all over the walls in the clubhouse. He had seen them when he had gone through in wolf form during the Dire Wolves attack. He had counted on the young artist in her seeing an opportunity to have someone in the profession look at her work. Though he had also learned Amanda’s background would put her in a position to critique it, but given what he had found out about their closeness, it would be only natural for her to want an impartial opinion.
“Yeah, they are, but that is kinda a problem.”
“Why?”
“I have pictures of them,” she offered excitedly, ignoring the question.
“Okay. I guess if they are clear enough.”
It had been too much to hope for that she might just invite him to the clubhouse. In fact, he would have been shocked if she had. This was good too though. It gave him a chance to get her alone. Obviously, she would try to slip away from the pack, and bring the photos to him for review.
“I think they are. I am pretty decent with a camera. I’ll bring them to the coffee shop next time you are there.”
