Xerox

by Esther E. Schmidt

  “No one’s punching anyone.” I release a deep sigh. Shit. I need to handle this, and fast. It’s draining every inch of patience I have left.

  Barlow walks over to a chair and pulls it out, raising his jaw and tilting his head at Tracy. He’s instructing her to sit? Damn Neanderthal. Something tells me it will be hilarious to watch them come together. It’s clear as day…these two radiate that shit; the legend is in full force. Barlow’s gut feeling was right…she’s it for him.

  Tracy dismisses Barlow’s gesture and glances over at Nero. “You’ll be coming with us. My partner, Ronnie Flegg, is outside and will be here in a moment. The rest of you will give your statement…”

  “I’ll give my statement, but I won’t be coming along,” Nero snaps and steps forward.

  “You’ll do both, but the statement will have to wait because I’ve got other plans for you. First, there’s an arrest warrant, that little fact doesn’t give you another option. You’re coming with us, and you won’t be going anywhere any time soon.” Tracy’s voice thunders with authority.

  Damn. She might look all high class with her black high waisted trousers, jacket, and white button down shirt but she’s tough. The black pumps she’s wearing might be kicked in the corner soon, because the look on her face states she’s ready for a good chase or barefoot fight, whatever might come first.

  “You got nothin’ on me.” Nero sneers.

  Tracy’s partner, Ronnie I presume, walks in with three police officers trailing behind him.

  Barlow chuckles. “Yeah, she does. I made sure. You’re gonna be locked away for life, dipshit.”

  Wait, what? That’s the first time I’m hearing it. I’ve asked Barlow to handle the DEA connection, and he’s our main intel guy when it comes down to digging into a background or getting the dirt in black and white.

  My gaze swings to Nero. His entire features change as Ronnie steps up. Nero moves in a flash, his arms slicing through the air fluently. He’s got his fingers wrapped around Ronnie’s gun as he pushes the DEA agent to the floor, taking aim at the other DEA agent in the room. Tracy…

  A single gunshot rings out as my head swings to Tracy. I watch as Barlow pushes her roughly to the side while firing one shot after the other. Taking steps forward, Barlow stops when his boots hit Nero’s body that’s on the floor and he empties the rest of his gun in the guy’s head. Total overkill.

  Chapter Twelve

  ***Maci***

  I’m staring at Nero’s lifeless body and all my mind comes up with is, yeah, that’s not going to be an open casket, that’s for sure.

  “Drop it.” Ronnie’s bark of words bounces off the walls of church.

  Ronnie’s holding a gun in his hand. Most definitely his backup gun because Nero grabbed his other one. I bet that’s an embarrassing shitstorm to explain; how someone ripped away your service weapon and caused something like…well, something like what’s left lying on the floor.

  The way Barlow terminated Nero just now wasn’t because he wanted to take out a threat in the room. It was to save a DEA agent. Not just any DEA agent though, because if it was Ronnie, damn sure he wouldn’t have stepped up like that. Nope, this was way more. He was fiercely protecting Tracy…wow, that’s…holy hell, the legend.

  That’s some serious stuff. No wonder these bikers and the hos freak out. Because there is no avoiding this, when it hits, it’s full frontal. I can’t judge how the other Old Ladies feel, but the very first time I saw Xerox, it was a gut feeling. One you feel deep down in your toes and settles in your gut, makes your heart flutter. A new wave of energy that surges through your veins, it clicks, two souls who are meant to be together.

  Barlow still has a death grip on the gun that’s pointing at what used to be Nero’s head. Yes, used to be, because it looks more like something out of a meat grinder. Ronnie barks out the same words again, but I’m sure Barlow’s gun doesn’t hold any more bullets. He emptied the whole clip, the clicks that followed when the shots were over were the proof of it.

  Tracy steps forward and gently slides her hand over Barlow’s. Taking the gun from him, she leans in and whispers something in his ear. I watch how his whole features change. Tension flows out as his chest puffs up.

  His eyes find Tracy, the fierce emotions swirling in there are powerful and spread wide in the blackness of his pupils. Leaning in, Barlow feathers his lips over Tracy’s before he drops to his knees and places his hands behind his head.

  Ronnie comes up and roughly cuffs Barlow while he glances back and forth to Tracy. “Call it in, Neeson, you know how this works.”

  One glance to my left, and I can see Xerox is all tensed up. His hands are tightened into fists, his knuckles white. I place my hand on his chest and slide it up to cup his neck. My other one going around to his back, snuggling close so I can stand on my toes and bring my mouth close to his ear.

  “We got this, we were all here to witness what happened in this very room. Barlow will be fine, we’re gonna get him out, you’ll see,” I murmur the soothing words and feel him relax underneath my touch.

  Xerox pulls me tighter against him. “I’ll call Stan Ramming.”

  I feel his voice rumbling through his chest. We’re both nailed to the floor as they guide Barlow out of the room. Tracy is on the phone but stops mid conversation to instruct a police officer. Everyone that’s in church is now guided out.

  It’s like watching a bad movie. Time drags on with your eyes glued to the scene, waiting for it to evolve into something. Something that will either end the damn visual that drags on, or for some action to take lead.

  It takes hours to get the clubhouse back to its normal state. Meaning, just the bikers that belong there…and me. I seem to belong here now too. There’s no other place I’d rather be, no other place I’ve ever felt this safe.

  For real, I just watched Barlow protect a woman who he met face to face mere minutes ago. The loyalty and commitment of the people I’m surrounded with is surreal. Even my own brothers have cleaned up their attitudes. Or maybe it’s because some of my load has shifted. I’m no longer the only one they have to deal with. I can finally just be their sister, instead of their keeper or surrogate mom. Just their sister for what feels like the first time in my life.

  The five of us retreated to Xerox’s room for privacy. We talked for a few hours about what happened in the past. With our parents…God, that was hard. Somehow Mike stepped up and took lead of the conversation. He’s grown into a man in what seems like the blink of an eye. That’s what the guys of Wicked Throttle did. Something I wasn’t able to.

  I felt like such a failure, standing in front of them, four boys I saw as the little ones I swore to protect. The vow I made to my parents when they were killed. I almost broke down, but before that could happen we were all wrapped up in each other’s arms. A group hug we haven’t had in forever.

  “Okay, you can let go now,” I grumble.

  Max chuckles as Mike steps back first.

  Mike squeezes my shoulder and shakes his head. “Fuck, sis. You should have told us at some point. Although it was probably best to keep it from us, because I might have gone over there and go for a killing spree that would only…”

  “Get your chicken ass filleted?” Morgan chimes in.

  “Shut it smartass,” Mike grumbles, but nods. “Yeah, probably.”

  My gaze hits Marcus. He’s always the quiet one, not showing any emotion of what goes on in his head.

  “You okay, Markie?” Mike asks, clearly worried like I am.

  Marcus shrugs his shoulders. “I’m gonna head over to Barlow’s room. I need to study or I’m gonna flunk the test I’ve got coming up on Monday.”

  We all look at him but none of us says anything. We know him diving into books is something he uses as an escape. Marcus strolls out of the room and I make a mental note to check up on him later.

  Barlow was assigned to watch over Marcus. With him being taken into custody, that’s something else Marcus will mull his thought
s over. Because that’s what Marcus does…his mind never stops thinking. He takes everyone’s problems on his shoulders, solely for him to deal with.

  Mike closes the door behind Marcus. “We need to keep an eye on him. He’s gonna retreat inside his head.”

  “Definitely,” I murmur and think of a way to get…

  “I’ll take it up with Prez and get someone else assigned to him until Barlow gets back,” Mike states.

  My gaze finds Mike’s. “I’ll get Xerox to…”

  “No offense, sis.” Mike gives a little shake with his head. “This is a load of double brother shit I get to deal with. You’re the Prez’ Old Lady, the sister…but Marcus is my brother, and so is Xerox, but he’s also my Prez. It’s better handled as club business.”

  What the hell? Anger rises inside me.

  Mike sighs. “Don’t get your fucking panties in a bunch. I don’t mean it as an insult.I damn well know to what extent you were there for all of us, but it’s time for us to take some of the responsibility. Our family has grown and is stronger than ever. We’re all here, Maci. We’re no longer the little boys you have to step up for.”

  “Yeah, I can see that, and mostly hear it by the way curse words fall out of your mouths. Remind me to smack Xerox later. Way too many fucks slipping from your lips,” I grumble.

  Mike chuckles. “Good luck with that, sis. Remember…that’s my Prez. He will back me up.”

  Gosh, how I’ve missed careless teasing with my brothers. “Wanna bet?” I raise my eyebrow.

  Mike’s eyes slide to Morgan and then to Max. All of them cross their arms in front of their chest trying to make a solid front against me.

  I tsk them. “Now boys. Don’t underestimate me. I’m the oldest of you…your sister, you’re biker brother’s girl…that’s the Prez’ Old Lady. You seriously think he would back you up over me?”

  “Yup, she’s still got the bigger dick,” Max states and shoves Mike against his shoulders.

  “Nah,” I shrug, “Xerox clearly has the biggest, because…”

  All my brothers clasp their ears and head for the door, leaving me to thunder out my laughter. I close the door behind them and look around. Without even thinking, I head to the other door across the room. Xerox told me it leads to his office, or workspace for that matter.

  Xerox’s artis amazing. He doesn’t really like to open up about it but I’ve seen some hints of it. The sketchpad he uses has just tiny things in it. Maud had told me about the gallery her Old Man handles. How most of the guys in this MC put their stuff in it and it’s how they earn a large chunk of their money.

  Losing the gallery must be a bigger loss than I first thought. Actually, I haven’t even realized it until now. With almost getting killed, and Nancy, the prospect, executed in front of my eyes, and…I swallow hard while I push the door open, surprised to see Corban behind a desk in the corner, holding up some papers.

  “Hey,” I whisper, so I don’t startle him all that much.

  He glances away from the papers in his hands for only a breath, before he focusses back at the task in hand. “Hey, yourself.”

  “Whatcha doing?” I ask before I freeze mid step. “What the…” I gasp.

  I hear Corban chuckle. “First time you see your Old Man’s work, huh?”

  It takes major effort to drag air into my lungs. “When did he do this? How? It’s…it’s…wow…”

  Corban’s voice flows out right next to me. “Remember how you two met the first time?”

  My mouth tips up at the reminder. Corban and Xerox came up to my house to bring some fruit from Maci’s shop. I was working out so I was dressed in tight shorts and a sports bra. Xerox thought he could lay down his law. One thing lead to another and we ended up throwing punches at each other. Me getting a good one in, shutting one of his pretty eyes shut.

  Shit. My whole body fired up the second I laid eyes on him. Probably the reason why I was on edge, him too for that matter. Yeah, I’ve said it before…the legend of these guys seems to work both ways. Once you meet the right person, there’s no denying it. It’s meant to be.

  “When I punched his brown eye shut? I vaguely remember,” I mutter, while I’m giggling on the inside.

  “He did this the second he came back. One fucking eye closed and he still manages to knock out one masterpiece after another,” Corban states with a proud ring to his voice.

  The both of us are now staring at the wall in front of us. It’s a white wooden panel structure, a little worn out over the years. That’s not why we’re gaping at it, it’s the ceiling to floor face that’s been sketched on it. My face. He’s managed to capture my messy bun, strands hugging my face while some are plastered against my sweaty head, my full lips, and even the tiny scar that’s in my left eyebrow.

  “We were in each other’s presence for what? A handful of minutes and he manages to draw me this vividly?” My eyes burn at the intensity of emotions I feel.

  The hurt that wraps around my heart when I think again about how they’ve lost the gallery and all the masterpieces that were stored in there.

  “We need to find another space for you guys. The gallery. How can I help? I need to help…it’s…” Swallowing, I let my mind reel, going through options I can think about.

  Corban’s footsteps fade as I swing my head to the left. He’s walking back to the desk and bracing himself when he reaches it.

  “I’ve found three options that might be a good fit but I’m swamped with getting this shit together. We’ve got two major exhibitions coming up, but I need to cancel one and see if we can get everything back up and running before then.” Corban releases a painful sigh and shrugs a hand through his hair.

  Closing the distance, I hold up my hand. “Lemme see what you got. Until very, very recently, I was the admin at an art and antique restoration company. I dealt with all of the paperwork and customers so the conservators could repair and or restore what came in. I’m damn good at my job and did way more than what my tasks entailed. But most of all? I need to keep my brain occupied, if you don’t mind that is.”

  “Fuck, yeah I want your help. Here, have a look and let me hear your thoughts. Xerox is still wrapped up with a few of my brothers with all this Nero shit and so on. I was ordered to deal with this, so let’s put our heads together.” Corban hands me the papers he was holding before and grips a chair, motioning for me to grab one too.

  Comfort settles when I sit my ass down. Distraction and giving something in return fuels new energy inside me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ***Xerox***

  Where the hell is she? I’ve checked our room already. I’ve been dragged to one part of the clubhouse to the other, giving my statement, checking with the lawyer for Barlow, discussing how we need to handle the shit with Nero’s half-brother, Enzo. It’s way past dinnertime and I haven’t seen Maci all day. My mind is running every option of where she could be when I run into Corban in the hallway.

  “Watch where you’re going, Prez,” Corban grumbles, his eyes never leaving the stack of papers he’s holding.

  “Pot meet kettle, asshole,” I bark. “Doesn’t seem like you were paying attention yourself.” Yeah, I know I’m being a dick, but with everything going on I’m on edge.

  Now the fucker’s eyes meet mine. “Grumpy much? Damn. We’re all working nonstop at shit, Prez. Even your Old Lady.”

  Maci’s been working? “Where is she? I’ve been looking for her, but…”

  Corban raises his chin in the direction behind me. “Your office.”

  I don’t even give him another word and just turn and start walking.

  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you…she kicked me out an hour ago.” Corban’s chuckle fills the hallway as I reach for the doorknob.

  Fuck him, that’s my woman in there and she’d better not mess with me right now.

  Except, when I close the door behind me and flip the lock, I hear her stern voice. “Get the hell out, Corban. I told you I need to get this done, and I ca
n’t do that with you muttering out curses and humming idiotic sounds you call stupid ass songs.”

  “And what is it exactly you need to get done, Captain Cookie?” I ask as I see her shoulders tense at the sound of my voice.

  Maci drops the pages she was holding and scurries around the desk. “Nothing.”

  Okay, this spikes my fucking attention. “Nothing, huh?”

  “Nope. What about you? How’s Barlow, any news?” She’s got sincere worry etched on her face, so I let the fact that she was hiding something slide for a moment.

  “Shit might take a little longer. Stan Ramming, the lawyer, will try to get him out as soon as possible. The overkill Barlow did is one thing, but…fuck. He was all battered up when Stan talked to him.” I tip my glasses up and rub my eyes before I set them back on my nose. “Barlow didn’t say a damn word who had done that to him. He didn’t have to because he told Stan to give me a message; eyes on Tracy. Seeing as Ronnie dragged him off, I think it’s logical to say that fucking partner of Tracy kicked him around.”

  Maci reaches up and gently slides my glasses off and sets them down on the desk. “Headache?”

  I give a little shake with my head. “Nah, it’s nothing, wearing my glasses gives me some form of comfort. It’s more like headache prevention, with all the buildup stress concerning the different shit that’s going on. We also have two exhibitions coming up. Well, had, because Corban should have cancelled one by now, seeing Barlow’s art was destroyed when we lost the gallery. It’s like we’re being attacked from every angle at once, you know?”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what Barlow is going through now, the things he lost.” Empathy flows through her eyes. “I saw some pictures of the wooden sculptures he’s created. He’s really talented with the wood carving. Corban showed me a video on YouTube, just a few minutes, a pencil, a knife, one hell of a masterpiece,” Maci beams, appreciation radiates from her voice.