Making Her His

by Lexy Timms

  “Okay. Keep me posted. But don’t worry about anything. We’re both going to be okay.”

  Chrissy ended the call and took a deep breath.

  “What’s that about?” Gloria leaned forward, always interested in good gossip.

  “Something. Office politics maybe.”

  “Is there someone you want Marcus to bump off?” Gloria offered with a smile.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, sis! Don’t even joke about something like that.”

  Gloria chuckled. “Why don't you enjoy the perks of being a Mafia princess?” She wagged her eyebrows. “No reason you can't date a bad-boy biker while waiting to meet the husband Grandpa selected for you.”

  Chrissy threw the pillow at her sister’s head. Gloria ducked and laughed. “You’re an annoyance,” said Chrissy.

  “And you’re too uptight. Relax. Have some fun. There are worse things than enjoying yourself.”

  Her phone buzzed and she glanced down, expecting more news from Jess. It wasn’t her assistant.

  Saks: Hi, Beautiful. How’s your day going?

  Chrissy put her head in her hands and groaned.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Why,” asked Luke, “are you looking at your phone every five minutes?”

  “Sorry.” Saks turned his attention to the Suzuki, whose owner complained of its loss of power. He revved the engine and listened to the sound. The engine sounded just fine—for a Suzuki. He didn’t like the Hayabusa GSX1300R. Even though it was a speedy bike, he didn’t enjoy the heavy frame that demanded he muscle into the turns to keep the bike upright. He sighed and stopped revving the bike.

  “What do you think?” Luke asked from another bay. He was working on getting the winterized bikes ready for spring riding.

  “Head gasket? Not sure. I’ll have to break it out and inspect it.”

  “Em,” Luke called to his wife in the next room, the reception area and office, “price out a head gasket set for a 2008 Suzuki Hayabusa GSX1300R.”

  “Sure, hon,” she said.

  Saks rolled his eyes at the bike. No, ‘I’m busy,’ or ‘wait a minute.’ Just a simple ‘sure, hon.’ Emily worked hard, so Saks knew she was in the middle of something. But she never complained when Luke called on her. No, this couple enjoyed being in each other's company regardless of where they were.

  Today, of all days, it galled him. Not that he wasn’t glad for his boss and friend, but being around this happily married couple reminded him of what he didn’t possess.

  And that the babe he slept with last night hadn't returned his text.

  He was a fucking idiot to think a classy woman like Chrissy would go for a grease monkey like him.

  Emily stood in the door of shop and hovered in the doorway. “Saks, did you check the ignition casing?”

  “What?” said Saks. His mind was focused on two things, disassembling the engine and a golden-haired vixen who screamed when she came.

  “Did you check the ignition casing? There is a recall on that model on the internet. A production problem causes the wires to wear, resulting in a full or partial loss of power.”

  “Recall?” Luke called from his bay. “Honey, get on the phone with them and ask if they’ll cover repair from our shop.”

  “I will, sweetie, but the nearest dealership is only twelve miles away, so they probably won’t.”

  “Shit,” mumbled Saks. Dealers handled recalls. Even though Luke’s shop had an excellent reputation, they didn’t have Suzuki certification. Luke hadn’t pursued it because he’d built his business on Harleys.

  “Yeah. Saks, check out the ignition before pulling the engine.”

  “Will do, boss. Good call, Emily. Thanks.” For a half hour, Saks poked around the wiring and found the worn casing. It was just a small spot, but it allowed the wires exposure to the elements. He gave Luke the bad news that the owner would have to take it to the dealership if he wanted it repaired for free.

  But Luke wasn't about to give up. “Em,” called Luke again. “Call the Suzuki shop to see if the recall is still valid on that bike.”

  “Sure thing, hon.”

  Luke stood from his crouching position next to the Harley he was working on, and wiped his hands on a rag. “Let’s get lunch,” he said.

  “What about Emily?”

  “She’s leaving for the day after we come back. She doesn’t mind manning the fort for lunch.”

  “I’ve got a sandwich in the fridge.”

  “Chuck it. I’m buying.”

  Luke buying was a rare thing, so Saks wouldn't pass that up. And there was no reason not to kill two birds with one stone. “Sure, how about the Red Bull?”

  “The Red Bull?”

  “Yeah, I left my bike there last night.”

  Luke shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”

  Sheldon, the owner, stood behind the bar when they arrived. He nodded at Saks after they both removed their Hades’ Spawn jackets and hung them by the door. The Roccos insisted no one displayed their colors in the bar, and those bikers who didn’t honor the edict found themselves barred.

  Surprisingly, a banner hung from the rafters. “Spring Dance” it said, giving a date of this coming Saturday. “Music, appetizers, and beer, all inclusive, $49.99 per person. See bartender for tickets.” Saks stared in disbelief. He hadn’t seen the banner last night. The Red Bull never had events like this. He walked to the bar, intending to get information. “Hey, Sheldon,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the sign. “What’s that about?”

  “Hey, Anthony. We’re just having a get-together. You’ll come, of course. You should come, too,” Sheldon said to Luke.

  “Saturday’s a club night,” replied Luke.

  “Tell you what. Any Hades’ Spawn wants to come, half price. We’ve missed you guys here since you opened your clubhouse.”

  “I’ll tell the guys.”

  The back door opened and shut loudly. “You do that. Give me a sec; there’s a new customer. Have a seat wherever you like.” Sheldon bolted to the end of the bar.

  Saks and Luke sat at a booth at the front window, overlooking the street. The waitress took their order of wings, potato skins, and beer.

  “I can't believe you’d leave your bike here, even if the Roccos are your cousins.”

  Saks stared out the window at the cars that travelled the four-lane highway. “Unavoidable,” he replied. His eyes flicked to his phone, which he put on the table, and with a frown he looked out the window again.

  “Sorta like how you’ve been checking your phone all day?”

  The waitress noisily set their beers on the table and Saks took a sip. He didn’t want to talk about last night or Chrissy. Apparently Luke noticed that, too.

  “Okay, I won’t pry. I’ve got something else to talk about.”

  “I figured you had ulterior motives.”

  Luke nodded. “I do. Emily and I have been talking about ways of expanding business.”

  “That’s good,” said Saks, not sure what it had to do with him.

  “And you’re aware I enjoy selling bikes on the side.”

  “You do,” agreed Saks.

  “So, we're going to expand into selling used bikes full time. I’m hoping it’ll work out so I can buy into a dealership.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I’ve researched the different repair certifications for other models, and I’m going to the Suzuki school for twelve weeks.”

  “Oh,” said Saks. This was it. Luke was going to lay him off. “Does this mean I go to Florida during the hottest part of the year?” He had a cousin there who’d take him on as a mechanic in his shop. Saks nearly did that last Christmas when things became tense with his family because of his involvement with the Spawn.

  “No,” Luke said, exasperated. “It means I want to give you a promotion.”

  “A what?” He nearly sputtered in his beer.

  “Manager of the shop. How does that sound?”

  Saks stared at Luke. Manager? “You want me to make
decisions about your shop?”

  “There’s no one better. Besides, Emily will still help in the mornings, and I’ve got Rob coming on to help with the work.”

  “Rob? Gibs’ brother?”

  “Yes. We’ve talked it over, and it's a good idea.”

  This was another surprise. Rob was the older brother of the man who the street gang, the Hombres, shot in front of Gibs’ own house. They were going for Luke, but Gibs took the bullet. But Luke made no bones he wasn’t fond of Rob, even if he was Emily’s biological father.

  “Of course,” continued Luke, “I can’t offer you much more than five thousand a year. That isn’t negotiable. We’ve worked out the most we can pay you, and that’s it.”

  Saks nodded, stunned by the conversation. The job of motorcycle mechanic wasn’t known for upward mobility opportunities. He did a quick calculation, and with taxes Luke’s offer would add another three hundred in disposable income a month. Not a ton of money, but certainly better than what he was earning now. “No. That’s more than generous.”

  “So, you’ll do it?”

  “Anthony!” interrupted an effusive gravelly voice.

  Saks hung his head. Uncle Vits.

  “And Luke Wade. Good to see you.” Uncle Vits offered his hand and Luke shook it. “I’m sorry to interrupt but, Anthony, can I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Sorry, Luke,” Saks said.

  “It’s okay,” Luke said with a grin. “More food for me.”

  Saks reluctantly followed Uncle Vits to one of the back stockrooms. The Don picked the one where Sheldon stored cases of common wine. The more expensive ones he kept in locked in a vault in the basement.

  “You’re looking good, Anthony.”

  “Thanks,” he said, wondering what the old man wanted.

  “You didn’t return my messages.”

  “Working, Uncle. You know that.”

  “I can get you a better job. Fewer hours.”

  “I enjoy what I do. And Luke was just talking about a promotion for me.”

  “That’s good.” Uncle Vits didn’t look like he really cared. “We need to move along on this thing with the Serafina girl.”

  “Why don’t you marry her? You’ve been alone too long.”

  “No, Anthony. A girl belongs with a strong, young man. Strengthens the family.”

  “Can you make it sound as if you aren't matching a stallion to a mare?”

  Vits' eyes blazed at Saks’ impertinence. But he was smart enough to know Saks wasn’t on board with the whole scheme and needed convincing. “Look. I’m trying to avoid a war here, son. It’s a small state, no? Not much room to move, especially with how law enforcement has been breathing down the families’ necks. The Serafina and us keep tripping over each other’s feet. Sure, I could have picked one of the soldiers, but that wouldn't work good. Who would he be loyal to? Us? The Serafina? You, Anthony, stand out in having no one, except to that motorcycle club of yours. And that’s the ticket, eh? Your father hopes to bring you into the family business. But I know better. You don’t want this life. I respect that.”

  Sure, you do, Vits, thought Saks.

  “The Serafina girl, I’m told, don’t want it neither. Her grandfather wants to see her settled. She doesn’t date, hasn’t had a boyfriend in years. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to meet her, eh? She’s a good girl, and not afraid to work hard. You’d like that type of woman, eh?”

  “Uncle Vits, like I said, I can find my own dates.”

  “I’ve heard about your women, Anthony. Not one of them is right for you. Marriage is good for a man, to go home to someone and not be lonely.”

  “I never said I was lonely.”

  “Anthony, you’re a young man. I’m an old man. A young one like you wants to—”

  “Enough, Uncle Vits. I get your point.”

  “So you’ll meet the Serafina girl this Saturday. Here.” He pointed at the ground.

  “At this crazy party Sheldon’s throwing?”

  “I asked him to throw the party. Give you and the girl a low-key way to meet.”

  Saks resisted the urge to scoff. Yeah, Uncle Vits, in front of the whole family, no pressure at all. “That's nice of you,” Saks said grudgingly

  “Yeah, well,” the old man muttered.

  “But I tell you, Uncle Vits, I’m not sold on this scheme of yours. I’ll meet her, but I’m not making any promises.”

  Vits looked up at him and slapped his meaty hand on Saks’ shoulder. “Good. It’s a start.” He patted Saks’ cheek. “You’ll like her, you’ll see.”

  Uncle Vits, his business concluded, left the stockroom. Saks leaned against the shelves and rubbed his face with his hands. This was not going to work out well.

  Especially since he couldn't get one golden-haired goddess off his mind.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHRISSY SETTLED INTO her train seat and pulled out her work tablet just as her phone started vibrating. She clicked the on button to her earbuds without looking at the phone.

  “Christina!” her father said. “How’s my girl doing?”

  “Dad,” she huffed with exasperation. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the day?”

  “I need to tell you to leave this Saturday open.”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “There’s a dance that your grandfather and I want you to attend.”

  Chrissy glanced at the spreadsheet she assembled for contacts and became distracted on a detail, so she wasn't paying attention to his words. “That’s nice,” she replied.

  “Then I can count on you, right?”

  “On what?” She snapped back to the conversation. What had she just agreed to?

  “The dance. It’s a party. At the Red Bull. You’ll meet the Roccos’ man there.”

  Chrissy drew up straight and her eyes narrowed. How dare he push this on her? But she also remembered her promise to her sister to act cool and play for time. She had to make it look good, to give Marcus the hint he needed to propose to Gloria. And a dance? What the heck? What was this? High school? “Sure, Papa. I’ll be there. When?”

  “It starts at eight and goes to closing.”

  “And why are we doing this at the Roccos’ bar?”

  “Because Vittorio Rocco thought it’d be good for you two to meet in an informal place, and I agree.”

  Chrissy sighed. “Fine, Papa. And how am I supposed to recognize this guy?”

  “The bartender, either Sheldon or John, will introduce you. You want me to be there?”

  Hell no! She panicked at that idea. The last thing she needed was her father's eyes on her every move. Or any of her bloody family. “I’ll be okay.”

  “That’s a given. I told Gloria and Marcus to go with you.”

  Fabulous! she thought acidly. They left no room for her to back out. Gloria, the snitch, would tell them everything.

  “Be there,” he growled. “Too much is riding on this for you to display your independent streak.”

  Streak. That’s how her father thought of it. Not that she had thoughts and opinions of her own. At another time, she’d give him a piece of her mind. But this was for Gloria. So, she’d show up and play this thing out. “Okay, Papa, whatever you say.”

  He grunted and clicked off the call, and her phone buzzed with a text.

  Oh shit. Saks.

  Saks: I keep thinking about last night.

  Her lips pursed tightly. Chrissy didn’t have time to answer any of Saks’ texts. She had more important things to do, like attacking the strategy for her job hunt. She had no idea how soon she might lose her position. But when the ax came, Chrissy wanted to look the bastard in the eye. She had her speech crafted. “Oh, what a relief, because I didn’t know how tell you about the fabulous employment offer I’ve accepted.”

  Despite the butterflies in her stomach she strolled into the building, all business, dressed in a handmade gray raw silk suit expertly tailored by her mother. This she paired with Christian Louboutin pumps
with the signature red soles as she marched into reception. Chrissy restrained the urge to look toward Richard Hamilton’s office. She had a story ready if the snake should ask why she came in.

  “Hello, Chloe,” she said coolly as she unlocked her door. Chloe perched at her desk in front of Richard’s corner office. No doubt Chloe got an eyeful of Chrissy’s dressy outfit, which would fuel the gossip mill.

  Good.

  Jessica entered behind her. “Wow,” she said. “When you launch into attack mode, you go all out.”

  “Did you pull together those materials?”

  “Yes. The portfolio’s on your desk; the lists you asked for are in your email.”

  “Excellent.”

  “What’re you going to do?”

  “Do? Nothing,” Chrissy said slyly. “We’ll place that order for trade buys. Please pull that list and check what we’ve spent this month.”

  “Sure,” said Jessica.

  “And fill out the purchase order. I'll personally bring it to Richard to sign it.”

  “Oooh,” mouthed Jessica. Most times Jessica left the purchase order with Chloe, but this situation called for a frontal assault. “Right away, boss.”

  “Quickly.” She turned on her computer and read through her emails. Richard sent one, arranging a meeting on Friday. She sighed. The Friday dump. Time grew short, and she had a ton of work to do to find a new job.

  She sent a text to one especially persistent headhunter, Charles Grayson, who had lured her on a date before he unloaded his proposal. She grew annoyed with him, because Charles was both handsome and available, and that his only interest was to sell her business talents ticked her off. But Chrissy extended a lunch invitation to him.

  To her surprise, he replied right away.

  Charles: You have the best timing. My two o’clock cancelled for today. Let’s meet at Florio’s.

  It was one o'clock now and she knew the place, just two blocks from her office. She had enough time to accomplish her objective and leave for lunch with a flourish.

  Chrissy: Perfect. See you.

  Now she had a bona fide reason to be in the city. Hamilton, that snake, didn’t have to know she set the meeting at the last minute. That she and Charles had a quasi-dating relationship was a perfect way to confuse and confound the enemy. And a late lunch at a nice restaurant and a couple glasses of wine would go a long way to soothe her frazzled nerves.