HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC

by Claire St. Rose

  "Ali, this is very important. What kind of black car is it?"

  "It's a Camaro. Newer. Black with a design on the hood."

  "What kind of design?"

  "A lime-green devil."

  Alejandro breathed. "That car's not following you, it's following me. Those are the Diablos Verdes, and they're trying to move in on Arroyo Flats. We've been pushing back, but..." He trailed off and turned back to her. "Wait a minute. Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

  She shrugged. "I didn't think it had anything to do with you or the club."

  "But you were scared.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “You're still shaking. If you thought you were in some kind of danger, why didn't you say anything?"

  "I just wanted them to go away, and I thought they had. After that day, I never saw the Camaro again. Not until today."

  "Shit, Ali." He tried to hide his irritation, but he couldn't believe she'd kept that to herself. How could he be expected to keep her safe if she didn't keep him informed?

  Her eyes were huge. "I really didn't think it had anything to do with you or the club," she repeated in a small voice. "Why do you think they were following me?"

  He shook his head grimly. "I don't know. Maybe to find me. Maybe to deliver a message. Thank God they never got hold of you, Baby. You have no idea what kind of--" He broke off. His words were scaring her, and she was already terrified.

  "Let's go to the clubhouse, okay? I want you to tell Pitbull and Popeye about this car."

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  "She's not here for the meeting, obviously," Alejandro said to the ten pairs of raised eyebrows that greeted him inside the clubhouse. "This is Ali... My Ali," he emphasized with a pointed look at Dobie, "And she's been followed for a couple weeks now by the Diablos."

  The other guys exchanged glances.

  "Well shit," mumbled Pitbull.

  "The black Camaro has been driving by my ranch for weeks," she said. "I first saw it about three weeks ago. It drove up and down my road a few times, which is weird since I live on a dead-end road. Then I kept seeing it, always driving slowly past my driveway. The very last time I saw it before today there were two men in the car. They stopped at the edge of my property, then climbed the fence and went onto my land. I was just about to go ask them what they wanted when my neighbor came along and they took off."

  "You were going to ask them what they wanted?" Alejandro asked in disbelief.

  "They were on my property!" she flared. "I had my gun, don't worry."

  The other looked slightly impressed. Alejandro was sure they hadn't pegged Ali for the pistol-packing type. "All right, Annie Oakley," he lectured. "Do not do that again. You pull a gun on guys like that you'll get yourself killed."

  "I didn't know," Ali reminded him. "I thought they were just trespassers, not--" She stared at the men around her and fell silent.

  "It's all right, Baby," he murmured. Eyebrows went up again all around the room at the endearment, and he ignored their curious stares as he kissed her. "You wait right here. We're going to be talking awhile. Watch TV, get comfortable. There's beer in the fridge if you want it."

  Ali nodded shyly and the men filed into the back room. When they closed the door behind her and she was alone, the reality of what she was involved in hit her for the first time. Is this what it's going to be like--constantly looking over my shoulder? Worrying that everyone I see is out to do me harm? All I've done is trade one work-obsessed man for another, only this work is dangerous. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm the jitters that had plagued her since she saw the black car. What am I really involved in here?

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  Ali had shocked her business partner when she'd told her about the $30,000 donation from Travis Lathrop, but Karen looked even more startled to hear the rumble of the bikes approaching the Cloverleaf site.

  "Who are these guys?" she asked above the roar of the engines.

  "They're our volunteers," Ali replied proudly. "They're good guys, and they've offered to help. Free labor, right?"

  Karen laughed. "When you said 'volunteers' I was thinking, you know, maybe some Eagle Scouts. Where on earth did you get these fellas?" She gave them a thorough once-over: arms covered with tattoos, bodies clad in denim and leather. Luckily, it seemed more shock and curiosity than disapproval.

  Ali shrugged. "One of them is an old high school friend of mine. He owes me." She cast a sideways glance at Alejandro. Behave, she'd warned him earlier that day. We're not ready to be public with this, and Karen's pretty sharp. As if she'd never said a word, he was devouring her with his eyes. Damn him.

  Karen raised her eyebrows at her and Ali blushed. "Don't ask," she begged.

  “Alaine Owens, I think there's a story to be told here,” Karen smirked.

  “Let’s just get these guys set up,” Ali replied. “I promise, if there was something to tell, you’d already known about it.”

  ***

  It took the guys half the time Ali expected. They worked like dogs, taking no breaks and powering through it all in record time. She was amazed at how quickly they managed to turn the barren front grounds into an inviting space. Karen was delighted, and Ali was relieved that she didn't seem offended at Pitbull's shameless attempts to get her phone number. Not for the first time, she realized what a gem she had in Karen.

  "Those guys were great, Ali," her partner mused later as they went over the schedule for opening week. "Bring them back any time."

  "I don't know how much of them we'll be seeing in the future," Ali demurred. "It's kind of a one-shot deal."

  Karen snorted. "You can call it anything you like, but I saw the way that Alejandro looked at you."

  Ali blushed to her roots and tried to shrug it off. "He's an old flame. A very, very old flame."

  "Does Bobby know about this old flame? In fact, where is Bobby today? I expected to see him here, using this as a publicity shot."

  And there it was, the question of the day. "Um... he had something else more pressing," she lied.

  Inside she panicked. Just how much longer can I put people off about Bobby? How long should I keep on lying? And at what cost?

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  Olivia Hamilton was the first parent to withdraw her child from riding lessons at Ali’s ranch. She left a breezy voicemail for Ali just twenty minutes before Callie's lesson saying they couldn't make it. When Ali called back the next day to reschedule, Olivia told her that Callie was "taking a break."

  Ali was stunned. She'd been working with Callie for two years, and Olivia was an old school friend. It was abrupt, Olivia agreed, but they had other things going on. A few activities just had to take a back seat for a while. "We'll be in touch," she said, rushing Ali off the phone.

  While Ali was disappointed at both the loss of a student and the loss of the income, she still didn't think anything was amiss until Sarah Foreaker pulled Gillie out of lessons without any warning the following week, making some feeble excuse about extra dance classes. And the next day, her favorite and longest-standing student, Perrie, called to say she couldn't come to class anymore.

  "Honey, what's wrong?" she probed. In six years of instruction, Perrie hadn't missed a single lesson. Ali had even begun preparing the young girl for barrel-racing competition.

  "Um," the young girl sniffled, her voice thick with emotion, "I can't take lessons from you anymore, Miss Ali. My mom says--" Perrie covered the phone and she could hear her arguing with her mother. "Something's... um... come up in my schedule and I c-c-can't--" There was some scuffling and then Ali heard Perrie's mother, as clear as day, telling her to hang up.

  Ali felt physically ill. Obviously it wasn't a coincidence. It was personal. The deepest cut was Perrie, who'd obviously been prompted to call by her mother. It was meant to upset Ali, she was sure of it.

  She racked her brain for why such a thing might have happened. She paced and worried and tried to make sense of it before heading out for a ride on Tip
. What had she done to alienate her students' mothers? She hadn't made her breakup with Bobby public yet, and even if she had it shouldn't matter. Perrie's mother Barbie was a snob, but Ali had worked with Perrie since long before Bobby Dawson was on the scene. What on earth could have happened?

  It wasn't until later that night when an unknown number texted her phone 'miss ali this is perrie check the keepers blog' that she got any insight as to why her students had all canceled out on her.

  Wade Stavely, known for his blog persona, "The Keeper," was a source of information and outrage for the communities of Arroyo Flats. A religious conservative with no tolerance for what he called "Modern Day Sins," he took shots at everyone from grocery store clerks to the mayor if he thought they'd done wrong in the eyes of the Lord. Though everyone pretended to roll their eyes at his judgments, local gossip often originated on the blog, making it a must-read for the bored housewives in town.

  Sure enough, when Ali pulled up the web page, the newest post featured a photo of several Padre Knights working at Cloverleaf's future site. There was Alejandro, his arms bulging as he hefted a bag of mulch, and just beyond him, shielding her eyes, a recognizable blonde woman. Herself.

  "Working on the Lord's Day, But Not Doing the Lord's Work!" the caption accused. Ali's eyes scanned the article, gathering the gist of it quickly enough. Words and phrases like "thugs," "Satan on wheels," "unwelcome terror in our town," and "drug-peddling scum" swam in her vision. Although she wasn't mentioned by name, she was there in full color, smiling away. Guilty by association.

  No wonder they had pulled their kids out of lessons. According to the article, Ali had hired drug-dealing felons to help her with her children's program. Never mind that none of the guys were actually felons--or even drug dealers, although she knew their hands were dirty on that account somewhere along the line. The Keeper painted the Padre Knights as hardened criminals, which in turn implicated Ali in their activities. At the least she had poor taste in associates; at the most she was personally involved in their crimes.

  Oh, God. Mr. Lathrop!

  Her association with the Padres would get to him somehow, and then he'd want his money back. No way would he allow her reputation to sully his. No chance in hell he would continue to support her work with that much negative attention attached to it. Ali allowed herself a moment or two of full-out choking, heaving sobs before she called the only person she knew could help her get out of such a horrible mess.

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  "Back again, huh?" Alejandro greeted Bobby with fake cheer as he walked into the garage. "You know, Ali can't stay away, either."

  "My girl does love a charitable cause, what can I say." Bobby flashed him a tight grin. "This isn't a social call, Rojas. I warned you what would happen if you didn't leave Ali alone. Thanks to you, she's got clients jumping ship left and right."

  "I'm not going anywhere," Alejandro declared. "You can go fuck yourself."

  Bobby smirked. "See, I thought you might say that. But here's the deal. You and I have a mutual friend, Sheriff Colton Hennesy."

  Alejandro felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "Yeah, so,” he snorted. “What about him?"

  "I know he's turned a blind eye on illegal club activity in the past, but he's not going to be doing that anymore. Whatever arrangements you had with him are now over. This is an election year, and he knows that without my support, he won't be re-elected."

  "We're the least of Hennesy's worries. He's got the Diablos to worry about."

  Bobby smiled. "No, I'd say you're right up there on the top of his list of concerns. See, it's not the Diablos who were on The Seeker's blog, and it's not the Diablos who have been leaking drugs into this community--"

  "Wait a minute!" Alejandro thundered. "The Padres haven't brought any drugs into this community."

  "Says you." Bobby shook his head. "I guess we'll let the DEA figure that out, won't we? In any case, you can kiss Hennesy's cooperation goodbye."

  Fuck, thought Alejandro. Without Hennesy, we've lost our contacts on the Border Patrol, we've lost our intel about the DEA investigation, and we've lost any shot of protecting this town from the Diablos Verdes.

  "I did warn you," Bobby said. "I don't give a shit what happens in this town, really, not when it doesn't concern me. Problems at the bottom tend to stay there. I'm only concerned when the garbage floats to the top. You let Ali go, I call off my dogs."

  "You dumb sack of shit. You don't get it, do you? People aren't dogs that bark on your command. You act like I have some kind of control over Ali." Alejandro laughed bitterly. "Well here's something you probably never realized about her. Ali makes up her own mind. And even if I did succeed in pushing her away, that doesn't mean she'd go back to you."

  "Sure it does. You're the only reason we're not together."

  Does he even know her? "You're a delusional sonofabitch, you know that?"

  Bobby shrugged. "I'm not the one chasing a lost cause," he replied. "That's you. If you know what's good for you, you'll pack up your club and leave this town before things get any uglier."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The plan was simple enough, but Alejandro's gut churned as he contemplated what they were about to do. No doubt about it, Crockett was a wild card and a threat to both the Padre Knights and the Bezerkerz, but the fact remained that what they were planning was murder.

  He'd been honest with Ali when he told her he'd only ever killed out of necessity. Three times, and he remembered every detail of each one. He could honestly say that he had no choice in any of them.

  But this was different.

  On the one hand, he had to protect the club. His brothers, their families--they all depended on him now. Turk was out of commission, probably for good, and it was up to him to keep things running smoothly for all their sakes. Crockett knew the dangerous game he was playing by abandoning his loyalty to his club for the protection of a rival. He was practically begging to be hit.

  But on the other hand, every time Alejandro thought of squeezing that trigger, he saw the look of stark terror on Ali's face when she'd seen the black Camaro out on the road. Would she look at him the same way when she found out what he'd done? Would she see him as a man who took action to protect his club and his livelihood, or would she see him as a cold-blooded killer?

  ***

  Alejandro and Pitbull trailed behind Dobie, forming a triangle on the road. The pickup was stopped just ahead, across the intersection. As planned, it had been disabled by a flat tire, the efficient work of the Bezerkerz. Alejandro could see Crockett checking the other wheels and shaking his head in disgust at the unexpected damage.

  The Bezerkerz had arranged for road crews to slow traffic for exactly ten minutes in either direction. The Padres had to act quickly and with absolute precision. There would be no second chance to get this done.

  As they edged closer to the stop sign, Alejandro saw movement in the truck's passenger seat. Who the fuck is that? He was supposed to be alone! He hoped that his eyes were deceiving him, but as Crockett rounded the bed of the truck, he caught a clear glimpse through the passenger window of a woman. It was Talia, Crockett's wife. He didn't know her well, but he'd seen her a few times and recognized her. Fuck!

  Dobie turned left at the intersection, just as planned, and Alejandro saw his right hand move into his vest to pull out his weapon. Pitbull idled next to Alejandro at the stop sign, about fifty yards back from the truck. His eyes widened as he, too, realized the woman was in the car.

  Crack! Crack! The first shots fired in rapid succession. Crockett dropped to the ground behind the truck, motionless.

  There was a scream from the inside of the truck, so shrill that the hair on the back of Alejandro's neck stood up. He saw hands rise up and saw them shake, begging.

  Dobie pulled up next to the driver's side door and raised his gun.

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  The image of Crockett's old lady dying in her husband's truck would stay with Alejandro forever.
No matter what Crockett had done, the woman was an innocent victim. She didn't deserve to die for his misdeeds. But she'd been in the truck with him, and there was no way around that. The worst part of the whole thing was that she'd taken longer than he had to die.

  Her fate was what Ali risked every day being with him. Her life, too, could be cut short for his actions. Other clubs would know she was his Achilles heel, which meant she could be used as a bargaining chip. Forget snobby treatment from Arroyo Flats socialites, this was the real risk of their union. Though it didn't matter, snubbed at the grocery store or shot on the streets--she didn't deserve any of it. He couldn't guarantee her protection.

  The Diablos Verdes already knew about Ali: what she looked like, where she lived, what kind of car she drove. He had no idea how long they'd actually been following her or how close they could get to her if they tried. He realized they had likely followed him and Ali on the bike intending for him to see them. It was a statement, one the Padres themselves had used to intimidate members of rival clubs. We're watching you. Any minute, we can bring chaos down on you and everyone you know.