The Handler (Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club #2)

by D. R. Graham

  “How do you know that?”

  “Liv and I saw them leaving the house on the night it happened. One of them had a Boomslangs L.A. chapter tattoo on his neck. The two who are already in jail are full patch members of the L.A. chapter. That’s why I came down here to look for the third one.”

  “How did the police know who to arrest?”

  “My dad had security cameras at the house, and the RCMP were already aware they were in the country. They were stopped at the Vancouver airport trying to board a plane to Los Angeles. Then Liv and I positively identified them.”

  “So, this afternoon, why didn’t you just call the cops?”

  “I didn’t actually see him there.”

  “If the police know he’s a member of that gang, and they have video footage, why don’t they just go arrest him?’

  “There wasn’t a good picture of his face. I’m the only one who got a really good look at him, and he wasn’t in any of the records that the police have on the Boomslangs. So, either he’s never been on the police radar, or he’s not a full patch member.”

  Her forehead creased as she processed what it all meant. Instead of freaking out, she joked, “What kind of stupid name is Boomslangs for a motorcycle gang? It sounds like a lame boy band name to me.”

  I laughed. “I wouldn’t mention that around any of them if I were you. It’s a particularly deadly snake with a venom that makes the victim bleed out.”

  “Who’s bigger? The Noir et Bleu or the Boomslangs?”

  “The Noir et Bleu have over one hundred chapters all over the world. The Boomslangs have about seventy chapters in twenty countries. They were both founded in Montreal.”

  She slid off the arm of the couch to sit next to me. “Do you mind if I ask what happened that night?”

  “I rode up to the house with Liv on the back of the bike right as the three Boomslangs were taking off. Two of them got in a car while the one who’s still on the run emptied a Jerrycan, then lit a lighter. I ran toward him, but he dropped the lighter onto the trail of gasoline before I could get to him. A huge fireball ignited behind him, making the inside of the house glow orange.”

  “What did he look like?”

  I closed my eyes as the bile rose in my throat. “He had dark hair, blue eyes, a scar down his left cheek, and his front tooth was crooked. I’ll never forget his face.”

  “How did your mom escape the fire?”

  I exhaled to make sure my voice remained composed. “I ran into the house and followed the path of flames that led up the stairs. When Huck heard my voice, she screamed for me. I found her hiding in the corner of my parents’ bedroom. The bed was completely engulfed and the stench of my dad’s charred body made me puke. Huck was hysterical.”

  “Oh my God,” Lincoln covered her mouth with her hands.

  “It was too late to help him, but my mom was still moving. Her clothes were on fire, so I tore the curtains down and pounded the flames before I picked her up. I tried to get Huck to follow me, but she was completely unresponsive. I ran down the stairs with my mom. Liv met me on the porch and pulled her out onto the front lawn while I ran back upstairs to get Huck.”

  Lincoln looked like she was holding back nausea and tears as she studied my face. “Was your sister hurt?”

  “No, but she was terrified. She clung to my neck and didn’t let go until the next day. She was so traumatized, she only started talking again about a month ago.”

  “Oh my God. It’s horrible that your sister witnessed it.” She shook her head sympathetically.

  “Yeah.” I exhaled and ran my hands through my hair. “Even bikers think hits in front of kids cross the line.”

  “Was your dad a member of the Noir et Bleu? Is that why they’re helping you?”

  “He used to be when I was young. He was one of the founding members, but he quit after Huck was born.”

  We sat quietly for a while as she let everything set in. “Do you want to be one of them?”

  I locked eyes with her, not sure how to answer since I wasn’t always sure myself. Eventually I said, “No. I promised my sister I wouldn’t let anyone else get killed.”

  She blinked slowly as the seriousness registered.

  I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so before she had a chance to come up with more questions, I flipped through the movie directory on the TV. “You want to watch a comedy?” I asked.

  She must have known if she pushed the topic further I would leave, because she let it drop and said, “Yeah, a comedy sounds good.” She moved to stretch out on the other end of the couch and punched a throw pillow a couple of times before she rested her head on it. As the movie started playing she asked, “How was your first day at work?”

  “Pretty crazy.”

  She pressed her toes against my thigh in a needling way. “My day was crazy, too. I’ve got a new employee.”

  “How’s he working out?”

  She smiled provocatively. “So far, so good. He’s interesting.”

  I rested my head back and glanced at her. “Thanks for letting me meet your mom.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, that was a real treat.”

  “Seriously. I was impressed by how you handled her.”

  She seemed pleased by the compliment, but also a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well, I’ve had years of practice.”

  “You’re good at it for someone who’s only sixteen.”

  She laughed and sat up to lean close before she whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”

  I nodded and chuckled ironically since keeping secrets was becoming a way of life for me.

  “I’m not sixteen. I’m going to be eighteen in a couple weeks.”

  Two reactions came to my mind—I knew it and shit. The fact that she was only a year younger than me was going to make the need to keep the relationship strictly professional even more important. Unfortunately, it was also going to make it more difficult. I slid my feet off the coffee table. “Why does everybody think you’re sixteen?”

  “My dad lied when I first started auditioning for commercials and shows. He thought it would make me seem advanced for my age.”

  “Does Hal know?”

  “Yeah. My passport shows my real age.” She must have sensed the change in my mood because to end the conversation she said, “Stop talking. I want to watch the movie.”

  “I should go.”

  Disappointment spread over her face. “Please wait until I fall asleep.”

  It was a tough decision. I was getting paid to keep her company and make sure the loneliness didn’t get to her, but it wasn’t healthy to spend every minute together or lead her on. If I stayed, it would set the wrong tone for a working relationship. If I left, she would think it was because she was honest with me about her real age. I didn’t want her to regret telling me the truth, so I decided to stay for a while. I threw a pillow at her. She smiled and stacked it under her head on top of the other one.

  She fell asleep before the movie was over, so I carried her to the bed and tucked her in. She looked really vulnerable, and I started to understand why it sucked to constantly be alone in a hotel room. Not that bikers were my ideal choice for roommates, but at least there was always someone around to talk to, and there was never a dull moment with those idiots. It seemed like my job was more about making sure she didn’t feel abandoned and isolated. At least, that was what I told myself as I crashed on the couch.

  Chapter Eight

  Lincoln woke up when her phone rang in the morning. It was Hal reminding her that we needed to be at the airport at three o’clock for the flight at five. Based on the smile on her face when she said “good morning” to me, she was excited that I hadn’t left the night before. I immediately regretted the decision. It had made her happy, but I felt like it was toying with her emotions. I also felt like a shitty boyfriend. And like the most unprofessional employee Tim had likely ever hired. I ordered breakfast while Lincoln made arrangements to have her mom taken care of. The room service arrived
while she was on the phone, so I started eating without her, still beating myself up for having poor judgement.

  Ten minutes later, she hung up and sat down at the table across from me. “Did you sleep all right?”

  “No,” I mumbled and stuffed a huge forkful of French toast in my mouth.

  “Was the couch uncomfortable?”

  “No.”

  She stared at me and pushed the food around on her plate as she snuck hesitant glances at me. “Are you mad at me, or are you just not super chatty when you get up?”

  “I’m in a bad mood. Is it all right if I have a shower?”

  “Sure.”

  I was in a bad mood—that wasn’t a lie. Mornings were never my thing, but my normal bad morning mood mixed with the guilt of spending a second night with a girl who wasn’t Liv topped off with my paralyzing fear of flying was about to make me unbearable to be around. I didn’t want to take it out on her, especially since it was my own damn fault.

  After I showered and went back into the room, she was packing. She eyed me cautiously, to assess my emotional state. “Do you feel better?”

  I exhaled slowly to appear relaxed and cool, but the tightness across my chest and pressure in my head caused by the disappointment in myself refused to go away. “I have to go back to my place to drop off my bike and pick up my passport. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

  “I can send a car to the house to pick you up.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll get one of the guys to drop me off.” It sounded snappy, and it was uncalled for since she was only trying to be nice. I knew I was being an asshole, but I needed to get out. Clear my head. Refocus. I left without looking back.

  Liv would definitely hear the guilt in my voice if I talked to her, so instead, I texted her to tell her I was leaving in a few hours. She didn’t respond, which didn’t surprise me. I walked out of the hotel lobby and got on my bike that was still parked near the valet stand. Once I was riding in the fresh air, I started to feel better, but not entirely. I needed to figure out a way to do the job without hurting Lincoln in the process. I just didn’t know how.

  It took almost an hour to get to the house, because the traffic was brutal. Mug was sitting on the front steps rolling a cigarette when I rode up and parked under the carport. I draped a tarp over my bike, then walked around to the front yard.

  “Sup?” Mug asked.

  I reached into my jacket pocket and handed him another two months’ worth of rent. “I’m going away for a while. This should cover my rent until I get back.”

  “Are you taking off with that Lincoln chick?”

  I stared at him for a second before deciding it was better to tell him as little as possible. “I’m going to be away for six weeks, working.” I climbed the porch steps and went inside. I packed a couple textbooks, my clothes, and passport into a hockey bag. Then I called Tomcat and the other contractor I normally worked with to let them know I’d be out of town.

  Mug was still sitting on the steps when I stepped back outside.

  “Do you have time to give me a lift to the airport?”

  “The airport?” He chuckled. “I thought you were a pussy about flying.”

  “I am. Don’t remind me.”

  He pushed his palms against the porch and stood up. “If you can ride bitch with me while I hang it out on an L.A. freeway, flying should be a piece of fucking cake.”

  “I guess we all gotta die sometime,” I said as I got on his bike and rested my bag on my lap.

  “You can say that again, brother.”

  Mug split the lanes pretty much the entire way to LAX, and I was so jacked up on adrenaline when he dropped me off at the curb that when I tried to text Lincoln to ask where she was, my hands were shaking too badly. I had to call her instead. “Hey, I’m here. Where should I meet you?”

  “I’m running a little late. I’ll be there in ten.”

  I laughed. “I leave you for a couple hours and you’re already running late.”

  “I know. My hair wasn’t cooperating, and there are always photographers lurking around LAX. Hal already checked us in, so I’ll meet you guys there.”

  Not thrilled about being photographed, I hung up and found a gift shop inside to buy a pair of dark sunglasses and a black baseball hat. Hal met up with me and gave me my boarding pass so I could clear security.

  Lincoln was twenty minutes late getting to the gate, but they held the flight for her. We boarded last and settled into the first class seats. Lincoln sat next to me. Hal and Tim sat across the aisle from us. When the engines started up, panic flooded into my veins. Lincoln reached over and held my hand. “Are you a nervous flyer?” she whispered.

  “Maybe,” I forced out through the strangled muscles in my throat.

  A crease formed between her eyebrows, but her voice sounded calm and assured when she said, “Don’t worry. I’m a pro at flying. There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about. It’s safer than driving.”

  Tim leaned into the aisle to catch the flight attendant’s attention. “We’re going to need some booze. A couple of everything.”

  “Of course. Right away.” She turned and disappeared behind the curtain.

  Lincoln released my hand and glared at Tim. “What are you doing?”

  “The kid’s not going to make it through a fourteen hour flight if he’s scared of flying.”

  Lincoln glanced at my knuckles. The blood had drained from them because I was gripping the armrests as if we were already in a dive and about to crash. After the flight attendant served Tim, he handed the selection of hard liquor mini bottles to me.

  Lincoln crossed her arms and slouched against the window.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  There obviously was something bothering her, but the plane had finished taxiing and the engines roared preparing for take-off, so I got distracted. I downed three bottles and closed my eyes. Once we were actually in the air, I put my ear buds in and pretended I was on a bus instead of an airplane so I’d be able to fall asleep.

  Three hours later, I woke up and made the mistake of looking out the window. As I started to hyperventilate, Lincoln slid the window shade down. Tim encouraged me to drink three more bottles, which relaxed me enough to fall asleep again. Three and a half hours later, when I woke up again, Lincoln was watching a movie. She smiled and paused her movie. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I want to get off at the next stop. I don’t know if I can make it.”

  Her mouth stretched into a tight smile as if she wasn’t quite sure how to break it to me that I had no choice. “Why don’t you eat something and then watch a movie?”

  “I don’t think I should eat.” The plane bumped, and we dropped down. “Whoa. What was that?”

  She laughed. “Turbulence.” She leaned across me to ask the flight attendant to bring me a blanket and sleep mask. I drank another bottle of liquor, which Lincoln didn’t seem overly impressed by, but she didn’t say anything as she tucked the blanket around me and slid the mask over my head. “Try to sleep again. It will make the time go by faster.” She smiled before sliding the silk over my eyes.

  I wasn’t tired anymore, so I put my earbuds in and listened to music until I eventually drifted off from boredom. We landed with a jolt. It felt like the plane wasn’t going to stop in time, and the noise was horrific until we slowed down to driving speed.

  Lincoln applauded quietly. “You did it.”

  “Don’t jinx it. We’re not standing in the airport yet.”

  “I think it’s cute that you are so very uncool about flying.”

  Self-conscious that she already knew the most embarrassing thing about me, I decided my only hope for saving face was a little self-deprecating humor. “What are you talking about? That was me being cool. Uncool would have been me lying in the fetal position, crying.”

  She didn’t laugh. She just studied my face with curiosity. “You smile more when you’re drunk.”

 
I nodded with a big, stupid grin on my face, not because I was actually drunk. I was feeling high because I survived. “What time is it?”

  She checked her phone. “Well, it’s just past seven in the morning in L.A. which makes it just after six o’clock at night here.”

  I folded the blanket. “Did you sleep?”

  “No. I’m scared to sleep around strangers. One time, a guy took photos of me sleeping on a plane and he posted them on the internet with photoshopped drool and snoring audio. Another time, I woke up to some creepy guy leaning over me taking a picture that looked like he was fondling my boobs.”

  “You should have woke me. I would have stayed up so you could sleep.”

  She laughed. “You were a nervous wreck.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” I laughed.

  The plane parked at the gate, and the flight attendant moved to unlatch the door. Lincoln bent over to pack her book and earphones into her carry-on bag. When she sat up, she flipped her hair back over her shoulders and smiled at me. “Ready?”

  I couldn’t blame the alcohol, since I wasn’t even buzzed anymore, but for some reason I blurted out, “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Her grin stretched even wider, and she raised her left eyebrow. “It’s official. Unlike everyone else I know, you are a happy drunk.”

  “Shit. I didn’t mean that. I mean, you are beautiful, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud. And I’m not drunk.” Avoiding the amused look on her face, I put the hat and sunglasses on before I followed her off the plane. It took forever to get through customs, and it seemed like it was because the guards wanted an excuse to go through Lincoln’s things. Two of the guys on her sound crew had some drug issues on their record, so Hal was working to get it all straightened out. Eventually, they let us through.

  There were four tour buses waiting outside. Assistants took my bag while Hal gave me an international phone and the tour itinerary. “You’ll be hanging out and sleeping on Lincoln’s bus. The rest of the crew will be on the other buses.”

  “Uh, Hal. I would rather stay on your bus.”

  “It’s full.”