by Floyd, Jacie
“Yeah, I heard some untimely press about illegal aliens brought them some unwanted attention from several federal agencies. It slowed down their operation so much that distribution isn’t making it much north of Tennessee.”
“I don’t want trouble with the Feds,” Baritone grumbled. “I don’t need those snoops poking around more than they do already.”
“Who does?” Tenor asked. “Call me later, and I’ll hook you up with my supplier. He might be able to get his hands on what you need.”
“At what price? And how soon?”
“It’ll be expensive, but it beats not being able to meet the demand.”
“I don’t have much choice. I need those drugs. Some of my people are desperate enough to pay any amount.”
Covering her mouth to hold back her gasp, Annabel leaned back to catch a glimpse of the conspirators. She might need to pick them out of a lineup at some point. One was chubby with a long ponytail. The other one was ferret-like, slim and edgy, sporting a gold hoop earring and a skull-and-crossbones do-rag.
As they moved out of earshot, Annabel considered what to do with the information she’d overheard. She’d learned enough at the high school filming Challenging Destiny to know that not all drug dealers lurked in back alleys and looked like gang-bangers or street thugs.
Her initial reaction was to go off half-cocked, but she kept herself in check. If she panicked, she’d call attention to herself. Probably a bad choice. She could leave and forget all about her suspicions. Or call the police with an anonymous tip. Probably the choice the old, more boring Annabel would make.
Or she could play it cool and try to discover the drug dealers’ identities before she called her vice-cop neighbor and have him bring in reinforcements. Since she wasn’t in any immediate danger, she liked the last choice the best. This could be the start of a new career. Investigative journalism. True crime documentaries. Breaking news stories.
Hah! If he weren’t careful, she’d give Max a run for his money in areas besides the Community First award.
Just then the leader of the bikers—Goatee Man—and another biker guy dropped into seats across from her and set their platters of ribs on the table. A younger leather-clad guy slid himself and a couple of pulled pork sandwiches into the space to her left.
“Mind if we join you?” Goatee Man asked, somewhat after the fact. “Where’s Max? I didn’t notice him inside.”
“He was on his cell, talking to his nephew. He’ll be along soon,” the one beside Goatee Man said, switching his attention to Annabel. “I wanted him to introduce us, but since he’s not here, I’ll take care of it myself. I’m Tim, and this is Dick, our fearless leader.” He pointed to the third man. “That’s Gabe. We’re all friends of Max’s.”
“Hi, I’m Annabel.” As she shook hands with Tim, he held onto hers a fraction longer than necessary. But when she looked up at him to see if he meant anything by it, she couldn’t resist returning his smile. He looked more clean-cut than the others and was kind of cute in an Opie-Taylor-meets-Metallica sort of way. Gabe, the third guy in the trio, was handsome, quiet, even a little reserved, but just as confident and self-assured as the other two.
Tim studied her openly. “What’s a nice girl like you doing here with a guy like Max?”
“Why wouldn’t I be here with Max?” She’d gradually figured out that Max was a lot less harmful than she’d thought. But after overhearing the drug dealers and noticing the white envelopes sticking out of random pockets, Tim’s comment made her wonder all over again. Of course, if she judged others by the company they kept, these three guys wouldn’t be above reproach—and neither would she. There were always two sides to every story. As a filmmaker, she prided herself on remembering that.
“He’s never brought a date on a ride before,” Gabe said.
“Most of the women he knows don’t roll out of bed before noon,” Tim contributed, ruining Gabe’s attempt at diplomacy.
“A lot of news people work late hours.” Annabel refused to rise to the bait. Strippers kept late hours, too, but the last thing she wanted was to hear about Max’s female companions or to be lumped in with them. “Besides, this might not qualify as a date.”
“What is it?” The curiosity in Tim’s eyes heated up as he squirted an extra dose of sauce on his rack of ribs.
“We were set-up as a matchmaking thing on Let’s Talk, and he kind of dared me to come with him today.”
Tim grinned, revealing a small Opie-like gap between his two front teeth. “That’s what he said.”
“Didn’t you believe him?” she asked.
“We-ell, sometimes, the truth-according-to-Max bears little resemblance to the real thing. Especially where women are concerned.” Tim’s words seemed to contain a warning she didn’t need.
As stunningly attractive as Max Williams was, he was not her type. But he could be fun and exciting, and that was all she needed for today.
“No resemblance to what?” Max set a plate of plain grilled chicken and coleslaw in front of her. He deposited his own loaded plate in the small, empty space to her right.
“The truth,” Tim said.
“You can’t be talking about me,” Max objected. “I’m almost Clark Kent, a mild-mannered reporter in search of truth, justice, and the American way.”
Forking into her chicken, she realized that he took his promotional slogan as “The People’s Reporter” more seriously than his self-mocking implied.
“Always around when there’s trouble,” Gabe ribbed.
“Leading poor Lois into trouble, too,” Tim jabbed.
Annabel blinked as all three of Max’s friends looked her way. “I’m not poor anybody, and no one has ever tried to lead me into trouble.” Now, why did that statement sound more like a complaint than a recommendation?
“I didn’t think they had,” Tim said with a wink. “Plus, you’re miles out of Max’s league.” He tipped his can of soda in her direction in a silent salute.
“Thank you, I think.” Rather than accustom herself to the spine-tingling thrill of Max’s thigh pressed against hers, she tried to ease away from him. When he quickly closed the gap, she gave up the retreat. It seemed silly to avoid such innocent contact after they’d been touching a lot more than thighs all morning.
“No, she’s not. We’re in the same league.” Max looked up from removing the onion from his sandwich. “We’re nominated in the same category for the Community First award.”
“Nice,” Dick offered. “Congratulations. I like an accomplished woman.”
“Way to go, Annabel,” Tim said. “Which entry is yours?”
“It’s called Challenging Destiny.” Her cheeks glowed with pride. Bless Max for bringing up the subject.
“Hey, I saw that one,” Gabe said. “They showed it at P&G the other day as part of the United Way’s pitch for corporate sponsors. Great piece of work.” He answered her smile with one of his own. “What did you do on the project? Write? Produce? Direct?”
“All of the above,” she said. “My title was associate producer, but it was a four-year labor of love, and I ended up holding just about every job description.” She remembered the fulfilling hours with satisfaction.
“So you’re a producer?” This from Tim.
“I wish. We were very low budget, and I came cheap when the original producer moved on to another project.” She held up her crossed fingers. “If I win the award maybe I’ll get a promotion and the title, but with a daughter on her way to college, I’m just happy to be employed.”
“You’re not old enough to have a daughter on her way to college,” Dick objected.
“Stepdaughter,” Annabel explained.
“You’re married?” Tim asked.
“Widowed,” Annabel told him.
“Ah. That explains a lot.” Tim nodded wisely before adding an “ooph” when Dick’s elbow connected with his ribs.
Gabe cleared his throat. “When’s the award ceremony?”
“Next Friday.”
“Are you taking Shawntel?” Dick asked Max.
Shawntel? Annabel frowned. The name sounded like it belonged to another stripper. Didn’t the man know anyone named Jennifer or Sally?
“She’s not sure she can go.”
“She should go,” Dick insisted. “If it hadn’t been for her, you wouldn’t have done that piece—”
“She hasn’t decided yet, Dick.” Max’s comment cut off his friend. When Dick raised questioning eyebrows at Max, Annabel saw him slant his eyes in her direction.
“Oh, right. Well.” Dick stood up. “Think I’ll go get a piece of that cherry pie before we head out. Anybody want anything?”
“No thanks.” Max checked his watch. “Annabel?”
“None for me, thanks.”
Tim turned a high-voltage smile her way. “If Dick’s still feeding his face, that means we have time to stretch our legs, Annabel. How does a stroll by the river sound before getting back on Max’s monster hog?”
Chapter Five
“Well, um... maybe a very short one.” Placing her palms on the table, Annabel prepared to push herself to her feet. Max’s friend had been so nice, refusing would seem rude. But she worried her rubbery legs would collapse beneath her. With Max, Dick, Tim, and Gabe watching, she hoped she wouldn’t fall on her face.
“I guess you’ve already got somebody taking care of your bike.” Max made the statement as he slid his arm around Annabel’s waist, holding her in place.
“My bike?” Tim’s eyes widened. “No, why?”
“The rear tire looked a little low when we pulled in. I thought you knew.”
“No! I didn’t. Annabel, excuse me! See you at the next stop.” Tim reached the bottom of the patio steps before the last word floated back to her.
While he polished off a rib, Gabe looked at Max accusingly. “I saw what you did there. There’s nothing wrong with Tim’s tire.”
“There might be.”
“That was mean.” Annabel didn’t try to hide her smile.
“From your expression, I didn’t think you wanted to go for a walk.” He wiped his mouth and fingers with a napkin. “But I’ll get him if you’d like.”
She held up a restraining hand. “No, thanks. Maybe I’ll just rest a while longer.”
He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “How’re you really holding up? Pretty sore?”
“I’m good.” She smiled brightly so he wouldn’t guess the truth and offer to let her skip the rest of the ride. Going home now didn’t seem nearly as appealing as it had before. An idea had been germinating in her brain about a documentary on a biker club, with or without a drug angle. The visuals would be spectacular.
Maybe she should run the idea by Max first. Maybe bike clubs didn’t like a lot of publicity. Or he could be here investigating a breaking story himself. “I’m really enjoying myself, but—”
A woman dressed in Harley-logo overkill slid onto the other bench. “This your first road trip, honey? You wouldn’t like it nearly so well if you had to ride at the tail end of the group and eat dust and fumes all day long.”
“I was wondering about that. How do Max and I rate riding in front?”
“You’re with our local celebrity,” Gabe said. “When Max rides with us, he gets front and center. We like to show him off.”
“Oh, shut up and eat,” Max said without any real heat, “or else we’ll be here all day.” He checked the time again. “And I’d like to get to the final destination before nightfall.”
“Fifteen more minutes,” Dick said, returning with a piece of pie. “Then we ride. Go spread the word. And remind ‘em to see the dealer.”
“Right.” Max stood and pulled Annabel up with him. His strong hand under her arm held her steady until she had her feet firmly planted. He continued to hold on as she stepped over the bench. She expected him to let go of her then, but he tucked her arm through his and pulled her close. “Come on, Annabel. If you don’t want to walk, I know a nice place for you to wait.”
All too aware of his solid body next to hers, she worked hard to keep a casual tone. “Um, yeah, sure. I keep meaning to ask you—”
“Hey, Max, have you seen Gordo’s new bike?”
“Hey, Max, you going on the ride to Minnesota next month?”
“Mad Max, know anybody interested in a deal on a Fat Boy?”
Every few steps someone high-fived him or called for his attention. Without seeming to slight anyone, he kept on moving until he pulled her around the side of the building. They stopped beside an old-fashioned swing hanging from a huge oak tree.
“Have a seat.” He made an exaggerated sweeping gesture.
She looked at the sturdy rope-and-board contraption for several seconds before circling it in amazement. “I don’t even remember the last time I sat on one of these.” Breaking into a wide smile, she almost clapped her hands in delight.
“It’s easier than riding a bicycle. You never forget how.” Max steadied the ropes while she lowered herself into place. “Didn’t you ever take Carly to the playground? Or let someone push you during a picnic?”
“Carly was past the playground stage when I married her father.” And Carl would have thought it beneath a professor’s dignity to do something so frivolous. Marriage to an older man had stifled spontaneity. The compensations had included companionship, stability, security, and Carly, of course.
Annabel sat for a few seconds, pushing herself back and forth with her feet firmly planted.
“What about boyfriends in elementary school, high school, or college?”
Lifting her feet, she leaned her shoulders forward and then back to generate a bit of motion. “Oh, there weren’t many of those.”
With silence stretching between them, she wished she’d cut out her tongue before admitting that pathetically sad fact to a man who went through women like peanuts at a ballgame.
After a moment, she glanced over her shoulder at Max. Before she could decide if the odd expression on his face was pity or disbelief, he set his hands next to her hips on the wooden seat and pulled it back, before giving her a strong push forward.
She raised her feet, beginning the pumping action required to keep going. On the backward arc, Max pushed again. Up and back, she soared higher and higher. The gentle breeze flowed through her hair beneath the awning of branches and leaves, making her feel airy and free.
She owed this feeling to Max, this lightening of spirit. Carefree, she stretched her legs and reached for the sky with her toes. She turned to throw him a smile over her shoulder. All her worries and responsibilities slid right off her shoulders and straight to the ground.
Her body immediately followed.
The rough rope scuffed her palms and tore at the flesh before she flailed through the air with the grace of an elephant. Hurtling toward terra firma, she closed her eyes and prepared for immediate and immense pain. Out of nowhere, she hit a solid brick wall. With arms.
Somehow Max managed to pluck her from mid-air. He stumbled, caught himself, then stumbled again, toppling them both to the grass.
Cradled in his arms, Annabel landed spread eagle on top of him. The world teetered and tottered as she lifted her whirling head. When the stars, birds, and fireworks finally settled down, she found herself splayed against him. She levered herself up and stared straight into his glittering eyes. “I guess I was supposed to hold on.”
He clasped her tightly to him with one hand and smoothed along the lines of her body with the other. Searching for broken bones, no doubt. “You all right?”
Flustered by the intimacy and a surge of desire, she gulped and nodded before stopping his roaming hand in mid-roam.
He grinned and folded his hands behind his head as if lounging at the beach. “Nice dismount. I’d give it a ten.”
Behind the grin, his dark eyes studied her. Every inch of his body hardened beneath hers. A pulse beat rapidly at the hollow of his throat.
Was it only the years of sexual deprivation that made her
want desperately to press her lips against that pulse and lick up to his jaw, feeling the rough stubble where his beard shadowed his skin? Or was it the thrill of danger, the delicious appeal of the bad boy, the attraction of the unknown that beckoned to the recklessness she’d kept buried for so long? And did any of that matter?
As she dipped her head to taste him, one of Max’s friends called out. “You two all right?”
Annabel jerked her head up to spot Goatee Man, Gabe, and Tim heading straight toward them.
Stifling a sigh, Max crawled out from under her and lifted her to her feet.
“Do you need a doctor?” Tim asked. “Wait here, Annabel. Gabe, go get—”
“No, no, I’m fine.” She ducked her head and brushed herself off. “How about you, Max?”
“Never better.” His smirk telegraphed a thousand possibilities.
“What were you doing back here?” Dick asked. “I thought you were going to round up the troops.”
“I got distracted.” Max shrugged. “So sue me.”
“Aw, I’ll let it pass this time. I can understand you wanting to swing with a pretty girl instead of rounding up that bunch of roughnecks. But if you’re finished showing off for your new girlfriend, we need to rock ‘n’ roll.”
Annabel stooped down to retie her boot and hide her rosy red cheeks. She hadn’t been called a “pretty girl” since she was six. She sure wasn’t Max’s girlfriend, and she hadn’t been discovered in such an awkward position since—well, since last night at Music Hall. Darn, she’d been right about Max being a bad influence.
“Do I have time to step into the ladies’ room before we go?” She brushed off the knees of her jeans and tried to pull herself together. “I’m probably a mess.”
Max tugged on a curl that tickled her cheek. “You look great all ruffled and touchable, but we have time if you want to freshen up.”
“Don’t you have the damnedest luck?” Dick asked Max as Annabel hurried ahead of them toward the Blue Moon. The men followed a few steps behind her, but their voices carried on the breeze. “Seems like every time I turn around, women are throwing themselves at you.”
