by KB Winters
This was my favorite part. Where he tried to figure out how to best lie without just telling her what she wanted to hear. He wanted to just say that’s what he wanted too, because he was that kind of guy, but he sensed Teddy would be able to tell if he was lying. “I’m not opposed to all that, I mean it’s part of the plan, right?” He flashed a charming grin that probably got him out of all kinds of trouble.
“Eventually.”
His shoulders fell and he walked away without a goodbye.
“You enjoyed that,” I accused.
“Maybe, but he deserved it.”
“No way, if you’re interested go after him. Don’t let me stop you.”
“If this wasn’t so good, I would throw it at you,” she pointed at a nacho before tossing it in her mouth. “I know you don’t know this, but it’s kind of the girl code. If a guy doesn’t like your best friend, he’s toast.”
I swallowed and tried to ignore the warmth that spread through me at hearing her call me her best friend. We were friends, sure, but I assumed she had other friends she shared things with or went on shopping trips with in those fancy casino shops. “Oh.”
She laughed. “You know what I love about you Jana, you’re like a robot with your big brain and super observation skills. I feel like I’m teaching you about regular humans.”
I smiled because I knew she meant it as a compliment. “I’m saying thank you only because you’re my friend.” My best friend, apparently. We finished our food and paid the bill, but as we were leaving I felt a prickle of awareness, of being watched, wash over me. I’d felt that feeling once before and I’d reacted too late to save myself a lifetime of heartache and a world of pain. I scanned the restaurant but I didn’t see any faces I recognized, not that I would. I ran far from my last foster home in Detroit and changed my name so that when he got out, the bastard who did this to me could never find me.
I picked up the speed and hauled ass to Teddy’s fancy ass Benz she insisted I drive. I did love the cool gadgets though so I only put up a token protest before driving us back to my place.
Chapter 3
Max
“He thinks taking an art class will help. Why can’t I just paint in my own damn yard?” Carl Brandt was my commanding officer for years and a good friend even longer, and right now he was my sounding board.
“Man up, Ellison. You can take off a man’s skull at a thousand yards, you can damn well go and paint some fruit in the desert.” He also didn’t ever pull a fucking punch, no matter how much you wished he would. He didn’t sugarcoat or coddle.
“Just like that?”
“Hell yes,” he grumbled, voice thick like a man who indulged in expensive cigars a little too often. “One of these days Max, you’re gonna want to get laid again, or maybe make some little frogs for me to command. To do that, you’ll need to get your head on straight. If painting gets you there, do it.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, because I guess I just wanted someone I respected to tell me what I’d been thinking. “Thank you, sir. Class starts in an hour.”
His deep thunderous laugh sounded down the line and I couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like you’re ready.” He let his words hang in the air for a minute and I soaked them in. Could it really be as simple as being ready to be better? “Any word on your brother?”
I sighed. “No. Tate wrote me about six months ago, saying there might be some new evidence in his case but he won’t call me back or see me when I go visit him.” It gutted me to have my baby brother locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. But I hired everyone I could to help get him out and now he’d shut me out. I wanted to help but he was a man, and if he felt the need to fight this battle on his own, I had to let him. Even if it killed me.
“My wife keeps him in her prayers, son. Six years is a long time to spend in prison in general, but especially for another man’s crimes. Want me to see if I can find out anything?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, it’s just I can’t have both things weighing on me.”
“Then you won’t have to. Go to your class. Flirt with a pretty girl and paint something. Talk soon.” He disconnected the call before I could express even more gratitude.
With a shrug, I stood and scanned the living room since it was time to go. I stared at my kutte for a long minute, unsure if I wanted to wear it. In the end, I opted not to wear it, not because I was ashamed of my club. I wasn’t. Reckless Bastards MC saved me when I needed it. Two years ago, I was fresh out of the SEALs and my mind was all fucked up, and all I wanted to do was come see my baby brother. Only to find out he was in jail. No, not jail, fucking prison, and he’d already been there for years. But his club took me in, kept me safe when my mind would have me hurt myself and others. They treated me as one of their own, and eventually I was.
But lately, sleepless nights and a restless mind had made me a shit member. Between Tate and my own fucked up head, I didn’t have time for club business. The Reckless Bastards weren’t like other clubs. We kicked ass only when we needed to and we didn’t fuck with any drugs except grass. Tourists came here for it now and they loved buying legitimately from big ass bikers, and they loved it more that the town was called Mayhem. Because of the pot and the custom bike work, we didn’t need to fuck with guns or hard drugs, instead the third leg of club business was ass. Titty bars and brothels for every income bracket, and it was more than enough to keep us flush.
But still, I knew I hadn’t been carrying my weight at the club. Hopefully this class tonight would help with that too.
The little storefront in the middle of the street looked girly and expensive, the oversized windows featuring pricey paintbrushes and easels. Inside was more relaxed, with soft muted colors surrounding all the materials. “Just go straight on to the back,” a voice called from somewhere to my left.
“Okay, thanks.” I did as the voice said and went down a dark hall that opened into a spacious room with paint splattered floors. Nearly a dozen chairs and easels sat in a half circle and only one other person had arrived, a woman with long white blond hair sat at the chair all the way on the right with her head down as she arranged her palette. I could have taken any seat, but I took the one right beside her.
She didn’t turn or acknowledge me at all so I sat there and looked around, until the teacher came in, a svelte woman with long black hair streaked with silver. She wore a billowing red dress that looked to be made of rayon or some other crinkly material and nearly two dozen bracelets covered her arms. She gave me a strange look, shrugged and went back to setting up her own easel plus the wooden crate in the center of the half circle.
“Hi,” I leaned over and whispered.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice was smooth and gentle.
“We don’t get graded or anything, do we?” I didn’t look over because she kept her head down, clearly not wanting me to look at her. Or see something, I hadn’t decided yet.
“No. Just a chance to paint. And socialize.”
I opened my mouth to ask her name when several women stomped in on pointy heels, carrying two bottles of wine each, and wearing sashes. One wore a tiara that said ‘bachelorette’. “Shit. A bachelorette party.” A snicker sounded at my right and I grinned. “I’m glad my pain amuses you.”
She laughed again and I realized her voice was deeper, huskier, than it seemed at first. She had the voice of a woman. “Sorry. Incoming,” she whispered and quickly turned away. I swore I heard a squeak but her warning had me on edge.
I looked up to see one of the women sauntering my way, a little wobbly on her stilts. “Hello, handsome.”
“Uh, hi.” Everything about her screamed ‘woman on the prowl’ from her skintight jeans to her lowcut top that showed everything but the nipple.
“Why don’t you come sit with us?” She leaned over, giving me an even bigger eyeful of round pale tits. She squeezed my arm.
I wasn’t going anywhere. I glanced over my shoulder and leaned forward. “I would, but th
is is part of our date night and my girl is crazy jealous.” I thumbed towards the blond behind me. “So you should probably join your friends.”
She glanced over my shoulder and I have no idea what she saw, or if she saw anything but a golden curtain of hair, but she huffed, turned and walked off with plenty of swing in her hips. “He’s got a jealous girlfriend so he’s a no go,” she shouted to the rest of her friends. They all groaned their disappointment.
“Thanks,” I whispered. She shrugged and I turned to look at her, what I could see, anyway. She was pretty, her lips were plump and pink, with just a hint of moisture on them. But her cheekbone was high and sharp, like a warrior princess. I couldn’t see much else because her hair hung nearly to her waist in thick wavy tendrils.
The teacher stepped in front of the class, did her spiel and then we all got down to work to paint the fruit, cheeseboard and a decanter half filled with red wine sitting beside the bottle. “Shit.” I mostly drew landscapes and the sky, nothing like this.
“Just focus on what you can draw first.”
He grunted. “I don’t see any trees or an ocean.”
She laughed. “Try the cheeseboard. Focus on the detail in the woodgrain of the board.”
I looked at it again for a long time, taking in the multiple shades of brown and the small crack between the gouda and the brie. “Yeah, I can do that. Thanks.”
“No problem.” She spoke so quietly I had to lean closer just to hear her. I didn’t think it was a power play though, I suspected she was shy. Or wary.
Maybe both. “You’re very chatty,” I told her.
She didn’t’ speak for so long I thought maybe she wouldn’t. “I get that a lot. My best friend can never get a word in.”
I laughed. I actually laughed at her deadpan delivery, and damn it felt so damn good to laugh. “Thank you.”
“For what?” She seemed baffled.
“I can’t remember the last time I laughed.” I don’t know why I shared that with her, but it was true.
“No kidding,” she added with a healthy dose of commiseration before her hand began to move again. She flicked her wrist in quick, sure strokes, her face a study in concentration so I turned back to my own easel and focused on the damn cheeseboard. What the hell was a cheeseboard, anyway? They couldn’t have used plates like everyone else?
But after a while it actually started to look like what it was. Mostly.
“Okay ladies and gentleman, thank you for a great night of painting.” She walked around the room but the bachelorettes were quickly wobbling towards the exit. “Not bad, Mr…?”
“Call me, Max. I’ve never done anything but landscapes. Seascapes and a few of the sky. This is…different.”
She smiled and laid a kind hand on my shoulder. “You did well, I love the grain you brought to life. I can almost smell the cheese.” She looked so genuine I had to believe her, but to me it looked like shit.
“Well thanks, I’m not sure what else I could have painted.”
She nodded and stepped over to the mysterious blond. “Oh Jana, it’s wonderful. It’s somber somehow, like this is set out for a sad event.”
“Thanks,” she replied on a sigh that didn’t sound at all like she liked what she heard. “I’ll see you next week, Moon.”
Moon? I didn’t even want to think about that, so I separated the brushes and stuck the palette in the bucket of warm water and followed Jana out. “Thanks for your help in there. And the laugh.”
“No worries,” she said, glancing over so once again I only got a view of her left side. “Have a good night, Max.”
“You too, Jana.” I stood on the sidewalk for way longer than I probably should’ve, watching the graceful move of her hips, her legs. The swell of her ass. She was beautiful from what I could see, and guarded as hell.
And I would see her again. Next week.
***
“So, it helped?” Dr. Singh sat back in his chair, legs crossed at the knee with a smug smile on his face.
I shrugged. “I still didn’t sleep for shit, but it was more of a restless sleep. The dream was still there but it was fuzzy. Mostly sounds.” Two shots of Maker’s Mark would have cleared that shit right up, but for some reason I decided to abstain.
“But that’s still good after one class. I suspect there is more.”
I hadn’t planned to talk about Jana at all. I just wanted to keep it to myself for just a little while, which was crazy as fuck because there was jack shit to keep to myself. But who the hell else would I talk about it to? “Her name is Jana. She’s curvy as hell, like a woman should be. Pretty from what I could see and shy. But she’s also hiding something.”
“Aren’t we all,” he asked, leaning back now that the story was over.
“Like a black eye or something, Doc, not a deep dark secret or a man locked in the basement. You sure you didn’t serve?”
He grinned. “No but I have spent my career studying and helping servicemembers and law enforcement deal with the effects and demands of their jobs.” He looked at me with an amused look and I just rolled my eyes. “You like her.”
“I don’t know her, but I am intrigued.” And that was the kicker because as a rule, women didn’t intrigue me. They always had their motivations and the only thing I ever appreciated was the chase. And the first fuck, nothing is as good as that first fuck.
“Intrigued is good. Pursue it.”
I laughed. “You matchmaking now, Doc?”
He fought the grin but the battle was lost. “If you need me to, but it doesn’t have to be romantic. You could start as friends, or maybe an art buddy.”
An art buddy? I laughed. “That’s the second time I laughed this week.” It still felt weird, but a good weird.
“Good. Keep it up. Are you going to class again?”
“Yeah.” The painting was nice and it was better than sitting at home doing nothing, or going to the clubhouse to drink and dick around.
Dr. Singh stood and extended a deep brown arm, sinewy with muscle. “I look forward to hearing all about it. How’s the drinking?”
“Here and there, mostly beer.”
“Good. I’ll see you next week, Max.”
“Later, Doc.” I waved and made my way out into the damn near sweltering early afternoon. I loved the dessert air, but goddamn these days felt almost as bad as the other fucking desert. Still, it was early and I didn’t have much to do today so I decided to go for a walk around Mayhem. It had been a while since I just went for a walk. Mayhem was a small desert town, but it wasn’t isolated and desolate like so many towns in the state. Vegas was fifteen miles away and when the sun went down, the only thing that could be seen were those familiar bright lights. But Mayhem, despite it’s name was a thriving small town with an old west feel.
Tourists loved the wooden sidewalks on Main Street, and the red, white & blue awnings that were straight out of the seventies, and the fact that we had those old school lampposts. Mayhem even had a fucking General Store. Right beside the Bud Café, owned and operated by the Reckless Bastards. It was a cute little town, which was why we worked hard to keep it clean and to keep our businesses on the right side of the law.
I turned the corner into the small park that had been dedicated to the town by an old resident who’d gone on to be somebody big, apparently. I spotted a figure in the distance, wearing a pretty green and white polka dot dress with her legs crossed primly. The closer I got, the more details became clear. She was sketching something, her face parallel with the pad, long blonde hair covering her shoulders and most of the pad.
She was so engrossed in her sketching, wrist flicking quickly and efficiently, she didn’t look up when I approached her or when I stepped behind her to see what she worked on. It was a face, or more accurately it was a set of eyes. Hard and intense, and filled with pain. Finally, Jana froze and turned slowly until big, elliptical brown eyes stared up at me, angry and wary. “Excuse me.”
“It is you,” I said lamely. “It’
s me, Max.”
“I remember,” she said warily and inched away, closing her sketchpad and shoving it into her hobo style bag. “Did you need help with something?”
“Nah,” I shoved my hands into my pockets and grinned. “I thought it was you from a distance, and I just wanted to say hi. You’re pretty good at sketching too.”
“I do okay,” she muttered, head down, keeping the right side of her face away from me.
I didn’t like that she seemed afraid of me. “You scared of me, honey?” It’d been a while since a woman was scared of me, but with the tattoos and the bike, sometimes it happened.
Jana jerked upright and frowned at me. “What? Why would I be scared of you, more importantly should I be?”
I bit back a grin. “Hell no, you shouldn’t. I’m harmless.”
She scoffed. “Somehow I doubt that.” She closed the flap on her bag and stood, taking a step back.
“So you just don’t like me? You’re not attracted to me?”
She sighed, clearly becoming frustrated with my interference. “I don’t know you to like or dislike you.”
“But you’re attracted to me, and that’s a start. Have lunch with me.” Sparring verbally with Jana was the most fun I’d had in a long time.
I watched her carefully. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and did it again. Then again. She seemed to brace herself for something, tucking her hair behind her right ear and looking up at me so that I could see what she was hiding. A long, nasty scar from her right eye to the corner of her mouth. It was red and it looked painful, but it wasn’t the most interesting thing about her face. Her lips and cheeks were tied for first in that area. “Happy now?”
