Reprise

by C. D. Breadner

  He grinned again, noting how her skin broke out in gooseflesh as he ran one hand down the back of her arm. “Do I have a choice? You’re basically blackmailing me.”

  “Into fucking? You poor thing. I am an evil woman, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t want you falling in love with me, Doc.”

  She laughed, and her small chest bounced. That was fun to watch. “Like the Sheriff and Fritter? Don’t worry about it. We saw how that went for them.”

  Tiny frowned at her back as she walked to where she’d flung the clothes she’d answered the door in. She pulled on the oversized nightshirt before turning back to him.

  “What’s wrong with what happened to Fritter and Sharon?”

  She laughed again, but this time it annoyed him. “Are you kidding? She lost her job. The whole town is still calling her a biker whore behind her back. I’ve seen her. She’s half the woman she used to be.”

  Tiny crossed his arms. “What are you saying? She was only her job, nothing else?”

  “She’s a smart, capable woman who liked a good fucking from what I saw. But for Fritter she gives up everything and she’s okay with that?”

  “She also lost a baby. Maybe she deserves a little time to adjust to a lot of fucking changes that happened all at once.”

  Tracey looked as surprised as he was. His vehemence was unexpected.

  “You should be careful how you talk about people I care about,” he warned, stalking towards her. She backed up, her ass hitting the edge of her dresser, and he took her by the throat when he was close enough. “Sheriff Downey always had nice things to say about you, you know.”

  She squirmed in his hold, but he knew if he shoved his hand between her legs she’d be growing wet again.

  “Men take,” she finally said. “Women give and men take. That’s the way it is.”

  “Horse shit.”

  She gave a dry laugh, flexing her hips against him. He did what he’d been thinking of and slid his free hand into her panties. She whined, gasped, and widened her stance to give him room.

  “You like this?” he growled, fingers working into her.

  She whimpered.

  “You want to keep it, you keep your opinions to yourself.”

  Nothing but a cry again, her hips moving against his hand, getting herself off on him. “You see that? You’re taking what you want right now, Doc. Just like a man.”

  She likely wasn’t even listening. Her moans and grunts were loud in the room, but he was still able to hear his burner go off.

  “No,” she muttered when he pulled his hand free and turned to the table where he’d dumped it. “Oh, you asshole.”

  He flipped it open. “Yeah?”

  “Tiny? You close to the clubhouse?”

  “I can be there in about five. What’s up, Spaz?”

  “Can’t say. Just get here soon. Jayce needs a word.”

  He hung up, grabbed his T-shirt off the floor and pulled it on roughly.

  “You’re walking out?” she snapped, still a bit flushed and breathless.

  He grinned, then sunk to his knees on the floor in front of her, pulling her underwear down her legs. She helped him out by partially sitting on the dresser, giving a sweet gasp when he pulled her legs over his shoulders. “We’re three minutes away, not five. I got time.”

  -oOo-

  “What’s happened?” Tiny bellowed, striding into the quiet clubhouse. Not even music. What the hell was going on?

  “Tiny, back here.”

  He followed Jayce’s voice into the conference room. Jayce, Tank and Spaz were all waiting.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We got a phone call from the Dirty Rats in Montrose.”

  He frowned at Jayce. “They called? What for?”

  “They have Mal.”

  Just her name would have been enough to deal a blow, but now the pieces were falling together. They knew her, they’d said they did. And the club had been putting off replying to their bid to put a Red Rebels patch on their walls.

  Shit.

  “What do they want?”

  Jayce and Tank exchanged a look. “They don’t want anything,” Jayce finally said. “They’re keeping her and one of her bandmates safe. It turns out they were jacked by some meth dealers earlier tonight.”

  A couple harsh blinks, then he was in control of himself again. “What?”

  “They had her friend take them to someone who could pay off an imaginary debt, he led them to Mal.”

  Tiny’s hands were aching, and he realized they were clenched.

  Tank cleared his throat. “That fucking idiot nearly got her killed, but the Rats had been following him up until that point and they stepped in.”

  “Why were the Rats following these guys?”

  The other men shifted.

  “What is it?” he roared.

  Jayce put a hand up. “It’s Mazaris. They’re dealing meth in Montrose and Cleary. The Rats want them out.”

  “The...the Mazaris had her?”

  “She’s fine, Tiny,” Jayce assured him, approaching and clasping a hand on his shoulder. “But the Rats think the Mazaris have quite a few dealers and other hoods involved, and now she and her friend have been linked to the death of three of them.”

  “Oh Jesus.”

  “We should likely get her out of there.” Now Jayce looked over his shoulder back at Tank and Spaz. When he looked back his face was calm, voice gentle. “The question is, do you want her protected?”

  “I...I don’t...fuck.”

  “I know, man. It’s your call.”

  “She was supposed to be touring. She was supposed to be on the road with that band.”

  “I uh, I think I know why she’s not.”

  Everyone turned to Spaz, and he sat up straighter. “There’s a video on YouTube. Some college town. Their lead singer collapsed. Someone shot it on their phone. She and another band guy gave the singer CPR, brought him back.”

  “How’d you find out about this?”

  Spaz shrugged. “Knuckles told me the band name. Told me to keep an eye on anything that got posted online about them, especially after the Dirty Rats approached Tiny.”

  Tiny frowned. “Well, that was sure smart of Knuckles.”

  Jayce put a hand up, reading Tiny’s tone for what it was. “No need to get all suspicious. Knuck asked me if I thought we should, I said sure. I didn’t think anything would come up. And nothing did, other than bar Facebook pages listing their acts for the weekend.”

  “A few comments about Mal’s rack, too,” Spaz piped up.

  “Not helping, Spaz,” Tank warned with a swat to the back of the head.

  “Full disclosure!”

  Jayce brought them back on point. “So the question is, do we go get Mal and find a place to keep her safe?”

  “Safe from what?”

  “They took her from the Mazaris, killed three of them when they did it. We know what those guys are like, and if they ask around they might find out a link from her to you.”

  “What?”

  “Small town, Tiny,” Tank pointed out evenly. “Ask who she is. People saw us in Cleary. We were all at your old man’s funeral in kuttes.”

  “Fuck!”

  “It’s your call, man.”

  “I know!” He was shouting, which was unreasonable, but fuck.

  At least she was okay. He hoped. Mazaris hadn’t been able to do whatever the fuck they had planned. But she was in a Rat den, and that wasn’t better by very much.

  “They’re keeping her to get on our good side,” Tiny reminded Jayce.

  “I know that. They’re showing we can trust them. The question is if I call them back and say she’s under club protection. Come on, Tiny. Just say the word.”

  It had been a very strange day. Very strange.

  “Tell them yes. She’s under our protection. I’ll go and get her.”

  Jayce checked his watch. “It’s ten thirty at night. You’ll get there around one am.�
�

  “I know. I’m used to driving late.

  “You want to take anyone with you? I hear Knuckles is a delightful driving companion.”

  Tiny shook his head. “No. I’ll go on my own.”

  “Phone charged up?”

  “Yeah, I’m good to roll. Just fill up the truck and I’ll be fine.”

  Jayce clapped a hand down on his shoulder. “You need anything, call us. You bringing her here?”

  “Yeah. I don’t have anywhere else to bring her. But I might stop for the night somewhere.”

  Jayce led him back through the clubhouse. “Make sure she’s here for Christmas decorating tomorrow. I think the girls really like her.” Tiny had to smile. Then Jayce got serious. “You get a whiff of trouble call us. We’ll get out there as soon as we can, and get hold of Guido to see if he’s any closer.”

  “Thanks man.”

  His President let him walk to his truck alone. He shrugged off his kutte, folded it and tucked it behind the seat, then pulled a hoodie on over his T-shirt. He didn’t have a winter jacket, so he’d have to make do like this.

  It was a peculiar deja vu as he stopped to fuel up at a 24-hour service station and grabbed a large coffee for himself. He’d driven late to identify the body of his father, and now he was going back to rescue his...his ex-girlfriend? What the hell was she to him, anyway?

  -oOo-

  “She’s out cold,” Tiny chuckled, returning to the bedroom he now shared with Mallory in their new home. He pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it onto the floor, then undid his jeans as he approached his side of the bed. “I wish I could fall asleep that fast.”

  “Me, too,” Mallory agreed, her hand running up his bare back as he sat to push his jeans down and off his legs. “How was the trip?”

  Tiny shrugged, tossing his jeans onto the pile he’d started with his T-shirt. “Like any other. There was a bad accident north of Denver. It snowed last night and a van hit the ditch. Family of four dead.”

  “Jesus,” she breathed, her hand moving away as he swung his legs under the blankets and pulled them up to his chest.

  “Yeah. It was bad. The guy ahead of me on the road was the one who found them, called 911. He was pretty upset.” He put an arm out and without hesitating Mal snuggled to his side, resting her head on his chest.

  “How many truck drivers die every year?” she asked, voice sounding small.

  “Probably a lot. Are you asking how many die on the job?”

  “You know I am,” she scolding, tickling his side.

  “A few, honey. I don’t know the exact numbers.”

  “I worry about you. Especially in winter.”

  He smiled up at the ceiling, running a hand up and down her arm. “I’m not leaving you, honey.”

  “I know.”

  “I love you, Mallory. But this is all I know how to do.”

  “I’d never ask you to get another job,” she assured him. “I just worry.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “And I love you.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “What’s going on? What’s got you thinking this?”

  “My mom and dad tried to visit yesterday. I wouldn’t let them in, but they saw Angelina anyway. My mother burst into tears and my father got angry. Started giving me the gears about not being married. Asking me what my plan was if you didn’t come home one day.”

  He gave her a squeeze to reassure her, but inside his belly lit with angry fire. The nerve of these fucking people. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Your dad came outside, stood on his front lawn and just watched us. My dad got the message and basically dragged my mother off.”

  “I’m going to marry you, Mallory. We’re gonna be a family, and I’m going to make sure your life is happy. I promise that.”

  “I know.” She kissed his chest and nestled in again, arm across his stomach.

  “I just wanted to make sure we had a home first. I thought that was more important than a dress and a dance and all that.”

  “I’m fine, Harlon. Really. I love this house. You gave us a home. And I don’t need anything fancy. I just need you.”

  Now he wrapped her up in both arms. “I need you too, honey. I love you. I love you so much.”

  -oOo-

  They’d never officially been engaged. He’d bought her a ring but never actually asked. Now that was something that stung him to remember. She hadn’t expected a single thing from him, and a formal commitment was the only thing she really wanted. But he was working to get money in the bank, a safety cushion for their finances before they had to send Angelina to school. He didn’t want her to work. By that time he wanted her fat and pregnant with their second one.

  He took another pull on his take-out coffee, wincing as it burnt his tongue. This could be a mistake. No, it definitely was a mistake. He couldn’t get all ensnarled with her again. It wasn’t just a hot, burning passion they’d had. It had been a relationship. She’d trusted him, he trusted her. They were destined to be together. And it was too easy to slide back into that.

  It had never been hard work, being with Mallory. It had always been easy, and it had always felt good. Her love was such comfort. It fed something in him that he hadn’t expected to hunger for.

  But leaving her where people might hurt her just to get at his family wasn’t an option. She needed to be safe, he owed her that much at the very least. His main fear was letting slip that he was sick, that he wasn’t getting better. He didn’t want her pity. And he didn’t want to leave her if she decided she was in love with him still.

  He’d already done that to her once. He couldn’t put her through it again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mallory had never expected to fall asleep on the sofa in the office-type room she’d been shown to, but when the knock sounded she jumped about a foot in the air. She’d dozed off at least.

  Feeling discombobulated, she got to her feet, wasted the effort to smooth a hand over her hair, and answered the door. It had a lock on the inside, the paramedic biker named Patches had pointed that out to her when he escorted her from the medical bay—a term he’d used with a hearty laugh. She’d liked Patches. His head was shaved down to his shiny scalp, his neck as thick as his head, and the beard and moustache he wore was thick and mature. With just the right amount of gray. His blue eyes twinkled when he smiled.

  He was kind of adorable, she had to admit. And when he looked V over he was professional and reassuring all at once.

  V was fine. Lacerations and bruises, but his teeth were all in, no broken ribs, and his nose hadn’t been broken either. They gave him something to let him sleep through some of the night. He was on the room’s other sofa, still snoring softly.

  The door gave way to reveal the man that had driven them here, who was called Babe. He was leaning on the door jamb, grinning, one thumb hooked on a belt loop. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

  “I think I just fell asleep,” she assured him. “I wasn’t in REM or anything.”

  Babe’s grin got broader. “I got good news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your boyfriend’s here. We called him for you.”

  Mal frowned. How had they called Hal? How did they know Hal? “He’s not really my boyfriend.”

  “He drives this far this late at night, yeah he is.”

  “I’m too old to have a boyfriend.”

  Babe leaned into her. “Lover, then. Call it what you want, he’s here. Let’s go.”

  “What about—” she gestured to V.

  “Let him rest. He’s gotten himself into a bit of trouble, but I think we might be able to look after him.”

  Babe led the way down the hallway, and Mallory rubbed her eyes and tried to straighten her hair again as she followed. She must look absolutely terrible.

  In the clubhouse things had quieted down. No one was lingering, the room had cleared and only the lights behind the bar were on. A few of her hosts in leather, that ugly Rat logo on their
backs, were shaking hands with a much taller man who had just arrived, wearing a gray hoodie. Just as she was thinking he must be cold wearing only that, the tall guy turned around.

  She stopped short. “Harlon?”

  He strode towards her, took her arms in his hands, and scanned her up and down. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

  She blinked. Twice. “What?”

  “Are you hurt? You didn’t get hit?”

  “No. No, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

  Harlon ignored her and looked over his shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of her. And my president wants you to know that, if you put it to a vote around your table, the Red Rebels will consider a patch over.”

  A barrel-chested man put a hand out and Harlon shook it. “Appreciate it.”

  “Anytime. You know how to get hold of us.” He looked down at Mal, whose mouth was still hanging open in confusion. “Can I take her out of here now?”

  “Sure, man. She’s all yours.”

  “Wait,” she protested, digging in her heels as he started pulling her to the door by one arm. “I can’t leave V—”

  “Yeah, you can.” Harlon turned on her. “He’s a fuck up. And then he brought his bullshit right to your door. Your house is known. Three guys are dead because people helped you get away.”

  Mallory’s mouth flopped open but she had no reply.

  “He’s staying here. I’m getting you the hell away from these fucking guys.” He took a step back. “Unless you’d rather stay here for a while. But I drove all the way from Markham tonight to come and get you.”

  Now something shifted in her stomach, and her chest felt light. “You...you did?”

  “That’s where I live, Mal. I can keep you safe there, unless you’re not interested.”

  The room was quiet. Really quiet. She looked around, and their audience was regarding their conversation with a lot of amusement, but Harlon was only looking at her.

  “But...I have work tomorrow.”

  “Mal, these guys are bad. We’ve already had some trouble with them. And they don’t like us as it is. People around town have seen us together. Word gets around, and it’s known who my friends are. I don’t want you out there as something for them to get their hands on to hurt us.”