“When Sam leaves here, he’s got to be damn sure the Scorps are safe from what we’ve got going on. If he is, he’ll take it on out west, and we’re good all around. If he’s not, we’ve got big trouble. He’ll want to clean up.”
Jesus Christ.
But that was crazy. “What are they gonna do, Isaac? Mow down half of Hollywood right here in town? How does that make them safer?” Bart felt a little adrenaline surge, as he always did when he confronted Isaac. He hoped someday he’d get over that.
Isaac answered him as an equal. “The Scorps are safe if we go down for their bloodbath. Any man here gonna rat them out? I got Lilli and Gia. Show has Shannon and his girls. You’ve got your family.” He stopped listing their people the Scorpions could hurt. Only Vic and C.J. were without living family. C.J., who wasn’t at the table.
“Solution is simple, brothers. We ease Sam’s mind. Show our brothers a good time, make them see that the movie keeps their secrets and ours locked up tight.”
Len sighed. “We’re never gonna get clear of this shit. We’re gonna pay for all of it forever.”
Isaac nodded. “Maybe so. I know we’re on our knees for the Scorps for the foreseeable. The kind of damage they could drop on us if we’re not on their right side—they’d crush us. Not sure how to clear us of that. I got no more markers to call in, and that puts us on our knees. Not having a favor in the bank is not much different from being in debt to these guys.”
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers rubbing the gavel. “We had almost two years of quiet. Some of you have been gettin’ damn itchy, being so well-behaved. But I like it quiet. I like a good brawl, but I like to end it with handshakes all around. Let’s see if we can’t keep the Scorps happy and send them on their way.”
Show asked, “You know who’s riding?”
“Yeah. Sam. Ghost. Rick. Shiv. P.B.” He paused. “And Howler.”
Whistling low between his teeth, Show sat back. “Howler. Fuck.” Isaac nodded.
Bart could find out himself, but instead, feeling like he was missing something, he asked. “What’s up with Howler?”
Isaac looked right at Vic instead of Bart. “He’s their loose cannon, into seriously deviant shit. He does their interrogations. I don’t know why the fuck he’s along for this ride. Sam says he likes to keep him close. That’s fine, and we’ll take that on its face. But we need to keep an eye. Because he could be trouble. And we’ve had all the trouble I can stomach.”
Vic spoke up then. “Wouldn’t we be more secure if we just went support?”
Every head whipped around to stare at him. Badger, barely patched a year but no idiot, actually pushed his seat back from Vic’s. Isaac’s eyes lazed into Vic.
But he pushed the point. “They’ve made that gesture, right? They’d patch us in as a support club. That gives us room to breathe.”
The table went silent as Isaac stared at Vic. Vic stared right back. He’d nearly lost his patch—fuck, he’d nearly lost his life—because he’d run his drunken mouth and given information to a plant. Marissa Halyard. It’s how Show’s daughter was killed. And why they’d done to Marissa what they’d done. He’d squeaked past that, because C.J. had voted against the rest of the club when they voted his patch. Instead, he’d spent a year on probation. He’d settled down, and he’d gotten quiet at the table. This was the first time in nearly two years he was pushing Isaac.
Isaac shook his head, very slowly, his eyes never leaving Vic’s. “As long as I sit in this seat, this club will never wear any colors but Horde colors. We are allies of the Scorpions. We are not their bitches. I will hand the gavel over before I ever put that to a vote.”
“You’re the one said we were on our knees.” Vic sounded disgruntled.
“Short term, Vic,” Show said. “Short term. We’ll find our balance with the Scorps again. Support is signing up for a lifetime of taking it up the ass, and you know it. We’d pay dear for that breathing room.”
“Enough of this shit. Anything else?” It was clear in Isaac’s tone that there had better not be. The table was quiet. “Okay. Old ladies in the house tonight, and our Hollywood hotties, so let’s try to maintain for an extra minute or two, okay? We’re adjourned.”
He struck the gavel, and everyone but Isaac stood. “Show, Len. A minute.”
Holding the officers back, but not Bart, who was also an officer. That meant it was internal—Bart would put his money on C.J. Something was up with the old coot.
Not his problem, at least not right now. Right now, Omen was holding the front door open for Riley Chase.
CHAPTER FIVE
Riley walked into the Night Horde clubhouse, and the first thing that struck her was the smell. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t good. It smelled stale, maybe. Like the place didn’t get much fresh air. Or any. It was a smell like booze and wet wood—maybe booze-soaked wood—and something under that, something like people, she supposed. Like a lot of people had come through this space, and a lot of them had worked up a sweat.
It wasn’t a smell that would ever get bottled and sold as perfume. But she was already getting used to it.
The room they’d walked into was big and both dark and bright simultaneously. Dark paneling on the walls, dark furniture, dark linoleum, cracked and gapping. The long bar was dark wood with bright orange upholstery. But there were illuminated beer signs and Harley signs, and signs that were just words made of neon lighting, and long lights hanging from the ceiling, making the liquor bottles glitter. So maybe dark and garish was a better way to say it.
The music was loud and country. The people were loud and country, too. Lots of women in little clothes and men in leather and denim. Not every guy was wearing one of the leather vests Bart and Omen wore. In fact, there were more guys around without them.
In some ways, it resembled a Hollywood cocktail party—everybody was drinking, everybody was talking in groups, some girls in tiny clothes looked like they were in charge of keeping drinks full. There was a young guy behind the bar, wearing a vest like Omen’s, drawing beer from taps and pouring hard liquor. There were peanuts and chips in big bowls around the room. As they’d come through the lot, they’d moved through a smaller group of people loitering outside. A few men were clustered around a grill, so apparently there would be real food tonight, too. Riley hoped Pru wouldn’t tattle, because she had every intention of putting some of that real food in her mouth. For research, of course—understanding the local customs and whatnot. But she didn’t want Pru reporting back to Trevor.
Bart came toward them, smiling. She thought again how much she liked his smile—and then sort of understood that she was pretty attracted to him. She didn’t know anything about him, but he was giving off a vibe she liked. So far, she’d met two bikers, and they both seemed like nice, normal guys.
He drew to a stop a couple of feet from her. By now, Tanner was standing alongside her. She looked back and saw Pru just inside the door, near Omen. Mark was on Tanner’s other side.
“Hey, guys. All settled at the B&B?
Tanner had already bitched endlessly about the lack of full bathrooms in the guest rooms. They each had little powder rooms, just a toilet and a sink, but each bathroom was shared between two rooms. Riley had been a little surprised at that herself, but they were staying in a tiny little country inn, not the Waldorf. Besides, the great hardship was having to share a bathroom with their assistants—Tanner and Mark shared a bath, and Riley and Pru shared another. Not such a big deal. The bitching was making him look like a princess.
Sensing that he was winding up to bitch about that to the bikers, like a total wuss, Riley jumped in first. “Yeah. It’s cute.”
Bart’s smile grew. “Good. I’ll introduce you around, but I want you to stay close to me and Omen.” He looked past Riley’s shoulder and nodded a little; she guessed that was some kind of communication with Omen. Then he looked back at her. She noticed he wasn’t looking at Tanner almost at all. “Things get rowdy around here pretty quick
. You’re better off sticking with somebody you know.”
She smirked. “But I don’t know you, either.”
“No. That’s true. But you know me better than any of the other guys.” He took a step closer. “And while you’re hanging out with me, you could get to know me more.”
He wasn’t treating her at all like RILEY CHASE, TV star. There might have been a little of that at first, in the airport, but he’d shaken that off really fast, and now he was just flirting with her, like she was a pretty girl at a party. She could not remember the last time someone had treated her like just a girl. Even people in the business, more famous and powerful than she, treated her first like the presence and then—maybe, if she was lucky, eventually—like the person.
She felt playful, so she called him out. “Are you making a pass?”
He didn’t blush or get awkward, he just shook his head. “No, ma’am. Just making your acquaintance.”
Yep, she liked this guy.
Suddenly, Tanner strode forward. Riley watched him walk toward a huge biker. There was another biker, almost as huge, standing right behind the first, slightly to the side. Biker number one, with a full, dark beard and what looked from Riley’s vantage like long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail or braid, crossed his arms as Tanner came toward him. He made Tanner offer his hand first, then looked down at it, one eyebrow up, for a second before he unfolded his arms and shook. The noise level was too high for her to hear what was being said, but she had an idea.
“That’s Isaac, isn’t it? Then the guy behind him must be Showdown.”
“You’ve done your homework. That’s right.”
“Is Lilli here, too? I’d like to meet her.”
Bart’s lovely smile faltered a little. “I think so. She’s probably in the kitchen. I’ll take you back, but tonight wouldn’t be a good time to try to, like, interview her, or whatever you need to do. It’s crazy tonight, and she’s in charge of a lot of it.” He hesitated, and Riley could see that he was trying to decide whether to say something else. She lifted her eyebrows, waiting.
“She’s awesome. Like, totally awesome. But she’s busy tonight, and…well…” He huffed. “You know you don’t look anything like her.”
Oh. Okay. Riley knew where Bart was trying to go. She wasn’t surprised, and she’d deal with it. Wouldn’t be the first time she was judged by her cover. “She already doesn’t like me, right? Because she thinks I’m a dumb blonde teenager.”
He was obviously uncomfortable now. “She was surprised.”
Acting on a whim, she grabbed Bart’s hand, feeling it twitch at the contact and then enclose hers. “Okay. Lead the way. Might as well unsurprise her right off.” She turned back to Pru. “You mind hanging out with Omen?”
She knew the answer. Pru had been casting sidelong looks at Omen since they’d gotten to the inn. He was pretty cute. Early-to-mid twenties, maybe. Average height, lean, lots of colorful tattoos, a pierced nose, stretched earlobes. A lot less country, come to think of it, than the other guys she’d seen here, so far. Blue eyes and blonde hair, with a scruffy kind of three-days’ beard. He’d been smiling at Pru, as well. So let the flirting begin. Pru didn’t get a lot of chances, really.
Omen spoke up. “I’ll take care of her. Get you a drink?” Pru nodded, and he put his hand on her back, leading her toward the bar.
Match made, Riley turned back to Bart. They were still holding hands; she hadn’t realized. “Okay. Take me to the scary lady.”
He laughed. “She’s not scary. She is just…direct.”
She nodded, and he pulled her forward, through the crowd. They passed Tanner, Isaac, and Showdown. The bikers were so big and broad, they made Tanner, who was pretty tall and broad himself, look practically effeminate. He was doing all the talking, as far as she could see. They didn’t look impressed. She wondered whether he was just having an off day—it was a very full travel day, after all—because she’d thought he was a fairly good guy, and he’d been mainly a jerk, in one way or another, all day.
Bart led her into a room at the back—a kitchen. Decent size. Not quite like a home kitchen, but not like what she imagined a restaurant kitchen would be like, either. Not that she’d ever seen one in person. There were three women in the room, two of them dressed for an audience—tiny skirts, stripper heels, very tight tops that left virtually nothing to the imagination. One girl, with blonde hair so vivid it was almost literally yellow, was wearing a top so small that the black lace bra she had on underneath actually covered more of her boobs. Wow.
And then there was the other woman. Lilli. Tall and gorgeous, with a long, dark ponytail. She had a pretty good-size tattoo on the back of her neck. She was dressed more like a normal person, wearing low-rise, boot-cut jeans over low-heeled black boots, and a plain white t-shirt that fit nicely and showed some midriff when she raised her arms, as she was doing now, pulling a big metal bowl out of a cabinet over the counter.
“Candy, here. Scoop the potato salad into this, will ya? I can’t stand that crap.”
The girl in the teensy top took the bowl. “Sure thing, Lilli.”
Lilli turned and saw Bart and Riley. A look crossed her face that Riley decided not to think too much about—it was irritation—and then Lilli smiled at Bart. “Hey, bud. Who’s your friend?”
“Lilli Lunden, this is Riley Chase. I thought I’d bring her in and make introductions, but then we’ll stay out of your hair.
She came to them with her hand out. “Hi. You all settled in?”
Riley shook her hand and remembered that Lilli owned the bed and breakfast. “Yes. It’s lovely. The garden in back is gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” That smile was genuine; complimenting the garden had been a good thing. “I know you want to talk and hang out, or whatever, but this isn’t a great time. I was thinking I’d pick you up tomorrow. We can spend the day.”
“Sure. That would be perfect. I don’t want to be in your way any more than necessary. I know it’s strange what I’m doing. I just want to be true to the character—to you, I mean.”
Nodding, Lilli turned toward the big refrigerator. “I appreciate that. Okay, we’ll talk more tomorrow. And hey—this crowd drinks hard and gets rowdy, and they forget their manners. Be careful.” She looked at Bart. “You’re watching out, yeah?”
Sliding his arm around Riley’s waist, Bart said, “Yep. On the job. Isaac called everybody off, anyway. It’ll be cool.”
“Hmph. Still, best be out before they start with the Hank Williams, Jr.” Lilli turned to Riley. “Don’t mean to scare you. These are good guys. They just get a little enthusiastic when they’re drunk. It can be a bit much.”
Riley liked Bart’s arm where it was, his hand resting on her hip. She could feel his side against her arm—it was solid. Very solid. “I think I’m in good hands. I’ll pay attention, though.”
From right behind her, a deep, rumbly voice said, “They’re looking for more meat, Sport. What they’ve got is done.” She turned around, losing Bart’s arm, and found herself staring at a black leather wall. Isaac. He was enormous. She literally was about belly height to this guy. Feeling a little spike of nerves, she craned her neck and looked up to see him grinning down at her. He had a long, jagged scar across the left side of his face. It made his grin lopsided. More pronounced than Bart’s.
“Well, hello, sweetheart. I’m Isaac.”
“Yeah.” Jesus. Yeah? That’s what she said? She cleared her throat and tried again. “Riley. I’m Riley.”
“I figured. Nice to meet ya.” He looked over her head. “Is there more meat?”
Lilli answered, “Yeah. Hold on.”
And then Isaac moved, sidestepping Riley and meeting Lilli at the fridge.
So strange, the way people didn’t seem to care at all who she was. It wasn’t just Bart. It was everybody. She’d walked through a crowded room of regular people, and not one person paid her any more attention than they would any other stranger. They simply did not care that s
he was famous. In fact, here in this little town, she wasn’t famous.
That was pretty cool.
Bart’s hand circled her upper arm, and then his mouth was near her ear. “We should get out of the way. They’re gonna be putting food out soon, and then it’s like vultures or locusts or something. We’re in the flight path, either way. You want a drink?”
She nodded. A drink sounded excellent. She couldn’t believe how lame she’d just been with Isaac. Afraid of him. Like he was Sasquatch or something.
There was an empty stool at the bar, and Bart led her toward it. She looked around, found Pru and Omen playing an old-fashioned arcade video game. She didn’t see Tanner or Mark.
“What do you drink?”
“Wine? Like a zinfandel?”
Bart shook his head. “Sorry, no.”
She racked her brain for a mixed drink. She wasn’t what one could call a clubber or barhopper. She felt crushed and antsy in clubs, so she stayed away. Constantly thinking about calories and carbs and all that dreary nonsense, she drank only a little at home, and that was wine. When she was out to dinner, it was wine, or if she was at a party, she took whatever was wandering around on trays—a glass of sparkling wine, or a fancy mixed drink, usually. She’d barely drunk at all during her time with Devon. He hated alcohol, thought it ruined the brain. Funny, really, since he was fine with pot and acid on his good days—and coke and heroin on his bad days. He’d died with quite a cocktail fizzing through his veins.
Collins. There was some kind of drink called a Collins. Kind of like lemonade. Vodka? Gin? She didn’t know. Bart was looking at her like he thought she was being charmingly dim. She needed to answer his question, so she asked, “What does Lilli drink?” There. Call it research.
That surprised him, she could tell. “Uh, beer. Or tequila.”
Oh! That was a drink she knew. Those were good. “Like a margarita?”
Alone on Earth Page 5
