Agent Moore’s stomach dropped and he felt the tremors begin. Even if his debit card worked, which he doubted because by the words the other man used, he knew the Bureau had already taken steps to freeze all his accounts. Pure and simple, it was their way of forcing him to go into the office. Even so, even if he still had access, his account balance was only in the one-fifty range.
But for the benefit of his audience, he simply nodded. “Good. I can have that for you tomorrow morning.” He turned and stepped away pulling the room key with its cheap plastic fob out of his pocket.
“Uhm. Mr. Moore? The manager told me that we’re holding your stuff until full payment is made.”
A quick glance at the door showed the clerk spoke true by the padlock that had been installed to prevent entry. David felt panic flare inside him. After his purchase, he knew he only had around forty dollars left in his wallet.
‘Not enough, not nearly enough’, his mind screamed.
But he was not going to allow his alarm to be seen by anyone, much less a lowly motel employee. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow morning to obtain my belongings and to settle my account.”
“It’d be easier if you paid tonight,” the man countered and cleared his throat. “My boss wants the money tonight.”
Going back to the car, David tried to smile amicably but he wasn’t convinced he’d been successful in pulling it off. “Sure. I understand. I’ll go find an ATM.”
It wasn’t until he was well away from the motel that he allowed the control he’d maintained on his emotions to fall away. And the only word that he could subscribe to what was boiling inside him was ‘powerless’.
He was powerless until he found the missing money.
He was powerless until he had Michelle.
He was powerless against the mighty machine of the U.S. Government.
And the knowledge of his lack of power in every area of his life scared him more than anything he’d ever encountered.
Chapter Twenty Two
“I hope they give the signal soon,” I heard Linda murmur. “The longer we wait, the more nervous I get.”
Our group of Honeys were milling around the Hellion parking lot, waiting for the brother’s meeting to end. Although milling wasn’t the right word since most of the girls were touching up already perfectly applied makeup, messing with their hair and in general just trying to look their best. Even Reese wasn’t immune and I watched her use the truck’s side mirror as she swiped gloss over her already shiny lips.
I caught the tail-end of the plume of perfume Lulu was spritzing and coughed. Her man may have liked the smell of sausage, but Lulu obviously didn’t and was working to get rid of it.
“How long do their meetings usually last?” I thought it was a fair question since I’d never been involved in a Hellion Sunday until then.
“A couple of hours,” Tight replied, ratting the hair at her crown to give it even more height. “You’ll know when they’re finished.”
“How…” I started, and then heard a multi-throated roar rolling from within the building. I think they’d yelled, “Live Free or Die,” or something, but couldn’t be sure.
“We’re up!” Reese announced and we all begin to pull the carefully crafted and cooked food in their large, industrial pans out of the back of the truck. Reese had even used thermal bags to keep our items at their perfect temperature until we could serve it to the men. The clubhouse door opened and a wall of sound hit us as we entered. But as soon as we came into view, all the men’s voices stopped and only the music someone had turned on was heard.
‘Nothing like feeling like pets on display’, I thought wildly and felt my palms begin to sweat. But on the heels of that thought, I realized that by being with Silo, I was considered ‘off limits’ unless we both agreed otherwise. My sympathies went to the new Honeys and as our line wound through the tables to the long bar on our right, I chanced a glance to see how the other girls were taking being the center of attention. But it seemed that Janie was the only one of the five that seemed nervous at the men’s stares.
Two younger men wearing vests that read ‘recruit’ were swiftly moving behind the bar, setting up metal frames that would hold our pans and lighting small sterno canisters. I saw a tall stack of paper plates and plastic utensils carefully placed at the farthest end.
With Reese directing, each of us girls placed the food in a specific holder and then she waved us back. It seemed we were to stand behind the container as the men moved along the impromptu buffet line. Having overseen my fair share of buffets, I was astounded at the ease of the procedure that was performed without a hitch. “Wow,” I heard myself whisper, watching the men digging into each pan but each made a point to acknowledge the girl behind it a nod, a wink or a ‘thank you’.
“I know, right?” Reese leaned in to whisper back. “It’s like a damn, well-oiled machine.”
My eyes went back to the men filing past, watching them fill their plates. I’d had my doubts about the sheer volume of food Reese had insisted we make, but after seeing the piles the men were dishing out, I began to wonder if we would have enough for everyone.
I searched for Silo only to find he was with Brand at the very end of the slow moving line. I gave a tiny wave and received a smile and a chin lift in return. But that was all it took for my insides to tumble again.
“I’m starting to get nervous,” Reese confided on another whisper even as she smiled at the brother that had thrown her a wink to thank her for her pan of scrambled eggs.
Reese always seemed really confident and I couldn’t imagine what would cause her not to be. “Why?”
“I have to introduce the new Honeys. It’s the one and only time a Honey can speak before the Hellions.” I shot my eyes to hers and saw that she seemed paler than before. “Scary shit for someone that has never spoken in public before.”
I snagged her hand and squeezed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Reese.”
“I don’t care about fine. I just don’t want to fuck it up.” Her whispered correction made me smile.
Glancing down the line, I saw that the new girls were holding their own with the line of men. A couple of them, Gia and Nickel in particular, were actively flirting with every male that crossed in front of them and were unaware of the glares that were being shot their way by Smarty, Legs and Mica, women who’d followed their men from Missoula.
“They probably should’ve worked out whose man was who’s before making eyes at every dick in sight,” Lulu murmured from my left. “Because if they pull that crap with my Mel, even I’d be willing to throw down.”
I couldn’t help my sharp bark of laughter at my sister’s biker-speak and the mental image of her engaging in a catfight in her pencil skirt, fishnets and heels. But my laughter brought more than a few of the brother’s eyes my way again and I raised my head to see Silo’s eyes were a deep stormy gray, shooting daggers at the men who’d taken notice. Trying to forestall any problems, I gave him a wide smile and saw him relax, his eye-color moving back into the blue range.
Soon the line had been completed, and we Honeys filled our own plates before moving to sit at the table of our choice. I saw that Silo, Brand and Mel had snapped one up together which held empty seats between them, obviously meant for me, Lulu and Reese.
“You got plans for the rest of the day, Shell?” Silo asked at one point.
“Just to clean up the pots and stuff.”
“Rinse and Tam are responsible for tidying up,” Brand cut in.
I looked at Silo in confusion. Who or what was a Rinse and Tam?
“The recruits, baby,” Silo explained with a grin.
“Y’all cooked. They clean,” Mel added, folding his empty paper plate in half. “I gotta tell you. Don’t fucking miss that shit in the least.” The laughter of our group drew attention from the other tables, but then I think we had been under observation the entire time. Maybe it was because we were, in essence, sitting at the President’s table, but it seemed we’
d been under the microscope the whole time we’d been eating.
“Are you ready, draga?” I overheard Brand ask Reese as he rubbed her back. She gave a short nod before blinking up at her man with her big brown eyes.
“Yeah, Bay,” she whispered. “Let’s get this over with.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead before standing. “As one last order of business, we have new Honeys to introduce to you that will be done by my Reese. Please make our newest additions feel welcome, brothers.”
Reese pushed back her chair just as Brand sat down. Clearing her throat first, I saw her take the stack of 3x5 cards out of the sequined back pocket of her jeans. “We have five new Honeys joining the club today and, as I call your name, please stand so our Hellion brothers can see who you are.”
I tuned my girl’s voice out, having already helped her in coming up with the words that not only gave the new Honey’s name but a list of their interests and the reason they’d decided to join the female side of the motorcycle club. Instead, I focused on the feel of Silo’s arm that was draped over my shoulders and the way he was toying with the fingers of my other hand, creating a physical tie between us that felt normal and right.
‘You’re a part of a couple whether you want to be or not’, that voice in my mind warned.
I ignored it, preferring instead to take note of Silo’s large hand with its perfectly groomed nails and the large silver ring he wore. The design of the ring held the same pattern as what was on the back of his vest: a skull surrounded by flames. The icon of the Hellions. But the ring included the old Missoula designation which had been replaced on his vest, or ‘cut’ as he called it, with Billings.
But the ring wasn’t the only jewelry Silo liked to wear. There was the cross he wore on a heavy chain that I’d never seen him take off. When pressed, he admitted once that it had been his nana’s, a part of her that he carried with him every moment of every day. And I remembered how I’d turned that over and over in my mind before realizing I had no desire to wear any reminder of the man who’d raised me.
It was bad enough we shared the same last name.
But Silo’s reverence for his grandparents touched my heart and told me of his unfailing loyalty to those he considered his family. One that he included me in.
Hearing clapping from the room, I pulled my hand from Si’s and followed suit only then recognizing Reese had finished and had sat down with a sigh. Brand immediately pulled her head into his chest while murmuring, “Well done, my Reese.”
“Okay, so here’s the doings of this afternoon.” Silo’s mouth was only millimeters from my ear, but it had to be because the music had been cranked up again. “Hardwood and I’ve decided to get you and your sis up to speed. We’re taking you to the fucking range and ensuring you both can work a gun like nobody’s fucking bidness.”
“Say again?” I must’ve misheard what the big man said because it had almost sounded like…
“You’re gonna fucking learn to defend yourself and the first step is with a gun.” I knew the tone he was using. It was firm and didn’t allow any room for dissension or arguments. And automatically pissed me right the hell off.
“Not me,” I argued with a head shake. “Uh-uh. No way am I touching a gun.”
“Now’s not the time to get your panties in a wad, princess. You will and you are.” His thump of palm to tabletop added emphasis to his words. “And I ain’t taking no for an answer.”
I glanced to where Lulu and Mel were sitting and saw they too were having some sort of spat. Seemed I wasn’t the only Palmer girl that wasn’t wild about learning to shoot a gun. “But I’m not dressed to do that!” I heard Lulu cry and turned my head away. That was one way to argue it, but I thought it was kind of on the weak side.
Later, as I placed the noise-cancelling earphones on my head, I realized that all of our arguments had been weak and had held no sway in changing the mind of either of our guys. But I had to admit that the hour long verbal instruction given before we were allowed out into the warehouse area that held lengthy, narrow bays went a long way in calming my trepidation—especially since I’d learned Lulu already had a handgun and knew how to fire it. Her argument about her clothes was just to get Mel to take her home to change first.
Silo’s choice for me was a Sig Sauer P238. Only three inches long, it held six rounds which Silo felt was more than enough to bring down any bad guy that wanted to get to me. “It should fucking fit even your small hands,” he’d boomed. “And it ain’t too heavy for you to hold.”
But after two hours of firing the gun my fingers were starting to cramp and my still healing ankle began protesting.
“You did good, baby.” Silo’s opinion meant a lot since he’d been very patient as he’d taught me the correct stance, grip and how to squeeze instead of jerk the trigger. I felt his eyes on me as I painstakingly put my new weapon into its case. “We’ll make this a fucking regular gig until you’re comfortable. Won’t need no CC since you’ll be keeping it at the fucking house.”
“CC? What’s a CC?”
“Carrying concealed. You gotta get a fucking permit to carry your gun in your purse or on an ankle strap,” he clarified.
“Do you have one?” I’d often seen him tuck a gun into the back of his jeans as part of his getting ready in the morning routine. The move was also followed by him tucking whatever t-shirt he’d chosen for the day behind his belt buckle du jour.
“Yep.”
“Then why can’t I get one?” It didn’t seem fair that he had a permit to hide his gun and I couldn’t.
“Because it fucking takes sixty days for it to be approved. Which would be on public record and might trigger goddamn interest we don’t motherfucking want,” he growled, looking deep into my questioning gaze. “Not to fucking mention that everyone I have sticking around you all have theirs, so there’s no fucking need to expose you like that.”
Damn! He had a point but I didn’t like it. “So when this crap is over and done with, I can get one?”
Maybe that had been the wrong thing to ask or the wrong time to ask it because he whipped his head back to me and peered, searching my face for something. What, I didn’t know.
After more than a few beats, he spoke. “Yeah, baby. When this fucking shit is over, we’ll get you a permit to carry concealed.”
“Good,” I said with a head nod as I zipped up my case and went to stand beside him.
“Yeah, Shell,” he breathed, his eyes warm and tender. “That’d be motherfucking great.”
*.*.*.*.*
“…and that brings all of us up to date.” Brand’s deep voice concluded the first Hellions-Billing chapter meeting. It was Monday morning and was the day they’d held their conferences in Missoula, something that Brand had said he was willing to continue if all the other brothers agreed. “Questions?”
“Any fucking news on those ass-hats?” Silo’s question brought the eyes of not only Brand but Pagan, Hardwood and Dice as well.
“The Czars or the VDs?” Brand’s inquiry was valid in that there had already been trouble with the Black Czars although it had been resolved in a way Silo never wanted to repeat.
“Fucking both, I guess.” Silo’s shrug indicated he didn’t much care since both clubs were still on his shit list. Especially after Shelly’s reveal.
“Trey has asked that we use Skype in order to have a joint meeting in…” Brand looked at his cellphone. “Ten minutes to discuss the latest doings of both. Let us take a moment to get more coffee or whatever while I get the laptop set up and connect with Missoula.”
Silo stood, pushing the legs of his jeans down while shaking his head. They’d been using all the latest technology and he was still amazed at how easy it was to stay in touch with the different Hellion chapters not only vocally but visually as well. Not wanting any more coffee or to go back to his ever increasingly busy desk, Silo meandered out to the reception area where Lulu was working at her computer.
“Hey, Silo,” she greet
ed, but the clicks of her keyboard never faltered.
“Lu.” He went to the huge windowed double doors of the construction company’s entrance and looked out, although he didn’t take much notice of the scenery. His mind was caught up in Shelly, in her words and behavior from yesterday.
“Something on your mind?” In the reflection of the window, Silo could see the pretty receptionist was looking at her monitor, not at him. And maybe it was because she wasn’t really paying him but a smidgeon of attention he felt comfortable enough to broach the subject.
“I overheard you and Shell talking.” His voice was only a deep rumble and at a volume that was acceptable indoors. The clicking behind him stopped for a moment before resuming. “About how Shelly didn’t want me. Thanks for fucking sticking up for me, pretty girl.”
Lulu didn’t say anything for a couple of beats. “I think she has her head up her butt.”
He glanced over his shoulder and caught the brief look she gave him while continuing to type.
“Don’t fucking know what goddamn game she’s playing,” he grumbled before turning back to the glass doors. “One minute she’s telling you there’s no fucking future with me, and the next she’s back in my bed or asking what the hell is gonna fucking happen after I get her shit sorted.”
The keystrokes stopped and he ventured another look behind him, noting Lulu seemed to be deep in thought. “I don’t think it’s a game, Silo.”
“What the fuck is it then?” He was so goddamn confused by his girl he felt like he was walking through a fucking mine field. In the dark. All alone.
“I think…” she started and then pressed her cherry-red lipsticked lips together. “I think that my sister lost her life and without it, she doesn’t know who she is anymore.”
Silo wasn’t sure what Lulu meant and frowned in confusion. “Lost her life? You mean in Albuquerque?”
“I guess I put it kind of melodramatically because you and I know she didn’t die or anything. But for me, breaking ties with our father, the firm and our supposed circle of friends was a choice, something I had to do for me. A reinvention, if you know what I mean.”
A Civilian for Silo Page 24
