Letting out a chuckle Pipe adds,
“I know you’ve got a vested interest here Max. Fuck, so does Hunter if you want to get technical. He owns a third of Chasers and I doubt the big bastard is going to walk out on Tilly or Priss.” He says with a pointed glare in my direction as if he’s daring me to contradict him, but I won’t because he’s right. Fuck Chasers. I’d never leave the two most important women in my life.
Before I can say my piece there’s a knock on the door. All the brothers knew not to interrupt us unless it was urgent, and seeing as some asshole is knocking the place better be on fucking fire, or about to be because there’s no other reason I can come up with to violate a direct order from the prez. Huffing out a sigh Priest pushes out of his chair making his way to the door, but only opening it enough to see who it is. Glock. It could be worse, it could be Train. That’s one brother that should never have earned his patch in my opinion. He’s not dedicated enough. He’s too fucking careless and that’s going to end up getting someone killed.
“What?” Priest barks out.
Taking a step back Glock clears his throat,
“Uh…There was some woman here claiming she knows Tank. I told her she’d have to come back, but she’s pretty insistent she needs to see him. I told her to go get something to eat, and call him later because he’s busy, but what do you want me to do with her if she comes back? Because I’m pretty fucking sure she’s going to.”
Sighing heavily like he’s contemplating killing him where he stands, our long suffering prez asks,
“Did she give you a name, or are we just supposed to call her woman?”
“Charlee. She said her name was Charlee.”
Oh fuck me to hell and back with a pitchfork. Of all days for her to show up she would pick the one I’m supposed to come clean to Priss. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. My luck has been nothing but shit for as long as I can remember when it comes to Priss. Why would this be any different? Making it to the door in three long strides I glare at Glock.
“Where’d you give her directions to?”
Looking nervous, as he should, Glock sputters out,
“Mo’s.”
What did I say about my luck? Well, I take it back. It’s not shit. It’s cato-fucking-strophic.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Priscilla
Priscilla’s Rules to live by 101
“What’s the difference between your job and your wife?
After years, your job still sucks.”
Not once when I was young did I grow up thinking, ‘One day when I’m older I want to get into a knock-down drag-out verbal bitch bashing with my supposed to be past love interest’. Nuh-uh, not me. I think I could have gone my whole life without having to come face-to-face with the woman that calls herself Tank’s wife.
When I first caught sight of her walking into Mo’s I thought she must be lost. No one in Blackwater, or the surrounding towns would ever dress like that. Her clothes were beautiful, and obviously designer, but still they weren’t suited for a smallish town in Colorado. Her grey pencil skirt reached just past her knees and had a very fine slightly darker pinstripe running lengthwise. The ruched cream coloured partially see-through blouse was tucked into the waist of the skirt accentuating her slim figure. On her feet were gorgeous, but highly impractical pointed toe sling-back stilettos in glossy black with a metallic gold sole. I would be willing to bet my last dollar that they were the one’s I’d seen while covetously “browsing” the Jimmy Choo Spring 2014 catalogue online last month. And with them came an eight hundred dollar price tag, too rich for my blood, but it was nice to dream.
Now when I said that people in Blackwater don’t dress like her, I didn’t mean that we don’t dress nicely. We do. It’s just that when you’re towing your neighbour out of a snow drift, or fighting frostbite while adding your seventh layer of clothing, what she was wearing was not appropriate for a subdued lunch at a local diner facing those conditions.
What also struck me as odd was that when she walked in she glanced around and then made a bee-line straight for me. As in, for me, like I was the reason she was here. It took less than thirty seconds from entry to confrontation, to realise it was indeed me she was after, and she was not happy to have had to make the visit in person.
Removing my apron I balled it up behind the counter and hollered at Mo,
“B-Mo.” I’ve taken to shortening the nick name Big Mo that I gave him years ago to B-Mo since I’m far too lazy to speak that extra syllable five hundred million times a day. “I’m on break. Candice will watch my section.” He wouldn’t argue. He never did. Mo was always struggling to find good help, and I could only hope Candice would work out for us.
Candice is nineteen and completing her college courses online, so her schedule is flexible and she can work while completing them, much the same as I did. I’ve known her family since before she was born and they’re a solid working class family, generations of which living in Blackwater for the last ninety years. If anyone was going to have the grit to stick out working with grumpy pre-coffee bikers Candice would be the one to do it.
Hearing a grunted, “Yeah, Prissy.” I turn to the lady and ask,
“Can I help you?”
Huh, I thought it was just a saying that people look down their nose at others. I guess I was wrong there too.
“You’re Priscilla Walker?” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. And it was said with so much venom I was almost sure she would have had to milk fifty rattle snakes before she spoke the words.
Nodding slightly and extending my hand I reply,
“Yes, I’m her. I’m sorry, but have we met before?” Yeah, I know she is, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to make this easy for her. Call it what you want but she set my spidy-senses tingling the minute she walked in. And knowing she isn’t going to make this a pleasant chat, why should I?
Cocking her brown and letting out a snort that belied her snobby attire she says,
“My name is Charlee. Charlee Adams.”
Holy fuck me with an electric cattle-prod. This actually is Tank’s wife. I guessed it was, but I wasn’t sure. Now that she’s confirmed it I almost laugh. I mean really? She’s so far removed from Tank’s type that I think Mo would have been better suited for him. Oh, don’t get me wrong Charlee is a stunning woman. Tall with a slight frame, clearly evident breast implants, and long dark hair that looks black but not quite, she would make a good runway model if Victoria’s Secret was having a bargain basement sale on rejects. Her high cheek bones, slightly upturned nose, and startlingly red lips make her look like an over-stretched Kewpie Doll. That’s probably a bit harsh, but I’m not in the business of lying to make people feel better about their overabundance of cosmetic surgery.
I can barely hold back an insult as she stands there looking at my hand like I’m about to infect her with the bubonic plague, but not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a reaction I cock my head slightly, and give her my own once over.
“So you are. That doesn’t change my original question of what I can do for you though.”
Narrowing her eyes she regards me with an intensity bordering on hatred pursing her lips looking like she’s sucked on a lemon. Why women think that shit is attractive is beyond me. Duck lips is not sexy. It’s fucking weird.
“My husband certainly isn’t interested for your brains is he?”
Really? Jesus is she to be believed. I can take a lot, but I can tell Charlee is going to test my patience faster than you can say fuck off.
“If you’re not going to tell me how I can help you, or why you’re here I think it’s best if you leave.”
“I’m sure you do, but that’s not going happen, so how about we take a seat and have a conversation that’s long overdue.” Taking a seat at the closest booth, which thankfully is close to the back of the diner I follow her only because I want her to say what she came here to say and then leave. Hopefully on her broom to wherever the hell she came from
. Quickly.
Sliding into the booth I make myself comfortable before saying,
“Out with it then, but I’m giving you advance warning, if you’re here for an argument or to cause a scene then you’re going to be leaving disappointed. Tank and I are friends. Nothing more. I’m willing to listen to you because I get the feeling you don’t have any intention of leaving until I do. Bear in mind that I don’t have to sit and listen to you I’m doing this as a favour. Also, I won’t sit here long if you can’t manage to be civil and beat the bitch back.”
She doesn’t hesitate a second in replying, and only proves what I thought earlier. She’s going to stretch my patience to the limit.
“Obviously you’re aware that Hunter is married, and that he’s married to me.”
I have to interject here because I don’t want her to start off with misinformation.
“Honestly I only found out he’s married just over two weeks ago. I didn’t know your name until you walked in here, and I have barely spoken to him in over a year. And to be very clear; we’ve never had a relationship of any kind other than a friendship, so if that’s why you’re here you’ve made a wasted trip.”
Charlee doesn’t look like she believes a word. That’s her prerogative, but it doesn’t change the truth.
“Be that as it may, Hunter is married and that’s not going to change any time soon. If you’ve set your sights on him because of his wealth or his fam…”
I laugh. Loud. Loud enough to attract more than a few stares from the lunch customers. Their stares are accompanied by warm smiles, but it’s evident that they’re eyeing Charlee like she’s a new zoo exhibit. Strange. Fascinating. And so very out of place.
“Yeah, no. I’ve met Tank’s parents and I’m friends with his brothers. What they do, or do not have in their bank accounts has nothing to do with why I’m friends with him. You are aware Tank is a mechanic here in town, right? I mean, he goes home covered in grease, smelling like motor oil, and you’ll be lucky if you can have a meal out in public with him without someone asking him a question about a clanging noise their car is making. I work at a diner and do the books for a strip club. Do you think if I had any interest in his money I’d be doing that? That I wouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury already?”
That seems to have struck a chord with her. Now the look of hostility morphs into one of amusement mixed with something resembling a sick sort of glee.
“A mechanic? I’m aware my husband likes to tinker with machinery, but I think you’re mistaken Priscilla. Hunter is an agent with the FBI, not a simple mechanic.”
I’m pretty sure this is where you’re thinking I lose my shit, or pass out from the shock. That’s where you’d be wrong…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Priscilla
Priscilla’s Rules to live by 101
“Unicorns ARE real, they’re just fat and grey,
and we call then Rhinos.”
Since I was a little girl I’ve always been curious by nature. My dad knew I wasn’t going to grow out of it, so he worked out how to combat my curiosity by answering my endless questions truthfully from a very young age. He metered his responses so they were age appropriate, but he was always honest with me.
Because of my inquisitive nature I realised my dad wasn’t a simple biker slash bike rebuilder, and MC member by the time I was ten. There was just something about him that screamed at me he wasn’t as transparent as I first thought. This was confirmed when I overheard a conversation between him and a man called, Warren.
I was twelve and playing hide and seek with Tilly, who at the time was four. She wasn’t very good at it because she couldn’t stop giggling when she found a good hiding spot. I used to pretend I had no idea where she was until she got so loud she would know I was putting off the inevitable if I didn’t find her. It was my turn to hide, and I was doing it in my dads’ office at home. We weren’t supposed to come in here, but he wasn’t home, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt any he’d never know. Unfortunately my theory was blown out of the water when dad arrived home five minutes later, coming straight into his office closing the door to finish his phone call. I stayed still and silent under his desk in the very back corner. His desk was huge, so much so you could seat a family of eight around it for a full Thanksgiving dinner. I knew I wouldn’t be found if I stayed in the back corner because even with his legs fully extended dad couldn’t touch the other side.
The call didn’t last very long, and being only twelve I didn’t understand a lot of it, but instinctively I knew this would not be one of those times dad answered all my questions without blinking. I’d have to be very careful with which ones I asked about his call, if I ended up asking any at all. Something else I knew immediately was I could never, never tell anyone about what I heard. I don’t know how I knew that I couldn’t. I just did.
To cut a long story short…That day I found out my dad, Uncle Priest, Uncle Pipe, and Uncle Reaper were FBI agents. I didn’t know they infiltrated the MC they all loved in order to take down drug mules, and the pipelines they were creating. And it wasn’t until years later that I confronted dad with the knowledge I’d held onto for six years…
I spotted Tank at a family hog roast in the summer before I turned eighteen. Dad the ever watchful man his was hadn’t missed my interest in him either. After realising gently warning me away from the prospect, at the time Tank wasn’t patched in yet, wasn’t going to curb my fascination with the gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old he resorted to trying to convince me Tank was a bad man; that I’d do well to stay away from him. I took that as the perfect opportunity to inform my dad I was well aware he could protect me seeing as he was in fact an FBI agent after all. Shock is too mild a word to describe his reaction, I swear he turned white as a ghost as he dragged me to his room at the clubhouse faster than I could blink. It was there he laid it all out for me.
He told me what he was doing, not the details, but enough to know he, or the other guys weren’t interested in taking Devil’s Spawn down along with Satan’s Sons, which at the time was a mild comfort, but it didn’t quell the fear for my dad if he was found out by any of the brothers. I told him I knew about Priest, Pipe, and Reaper too, and that was when he became even more adamant that I keep whatever I knew to myself. No matter what. No exceptions. And I’ve kept that promise until today. Because today I knew that finally someone was going to slip up and this would be out in the open once and for all. Who’d have guessed it would only take one uppity bitch to knock the top off a can of worms that’d been capped for longer than I’ve been alive? Not me.
It wasn’t hard keeping dads secret. Honestly it never even came up. There was never an occasion to say anything, so let them have their secrets. It wasn’t effecting how I was living my life, or Tilly’s so I didn’t think about it any further. It wasn’t until I met Tank, finding out about his military background, and his sudden appearance that it came to the forefront of my mind again, and that was only in the form of concern. Concern that he would be caught up in all this bullshit and the fallout that was inevitable when they got caught out. Later my concerns were confirmed when I found out about Tank’s involvement in a letter my dad left for me in his safe after his funeral…
Dad somehow knew I wouldn’t want his firearms in the house if I was ever in the position of having to look after Tilly in the event of their death. How he knew I don’t know because I’ve never considered that he knew he and my mom might leave us before their time. But I suppose in his line of work, as a biker and FBI agent, the risk was there, so he thought it best to be prepared. Something I was grateful for after the fact.
When I was cleaning out the safe, he left the combination in the top draw of his desk, not very safe I know, but who in their right mind would break into a biker’s house, there I found a letter. It was addressed to me. And I cried for about an hour after finding it, before I could bring myself to read it.
My sweet honey bee,
If you’re reading this then it means
the unthinkable has happened. I’m so sorry my sweet girl that you’re hurting, and I’m sorry that you’re left with the responsibility of being an adult before you should be.
As hard as it is for you, your sister needs you now. You have to be as strong as I know you are, so you can guide her through this. She is so much like your mother it’s uncanny. Tilly is all softness and innocence, where you got a lot more of me than you did of your mother. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad for it now.
The day you were born I knew there was a fire in you. You came out screaming and wouldn’t stop until I held you in my arms and told you to ‘toughen up princess the world is a scary place’. I knew from the second you went silent in my arms that there was something special about you, and I couldn’t wait for you to share it with the world.
Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3) Page 13
