by Aden Lowe
She didn't seem in any hurry to get physical, so he just put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. He could wait.
Chapter Eight
The combination of the good meal, a couple beers and Vicki cuddled up against his side soon had Kellen relaxed back into the sofa cushions, more comfortable than he remembered being in a long while. He must be more tired than he'd thought. Peace that deep never found him, even in sleep. Hell, for all he knew, the food had been drugged or something.
Except he didn't feel drugged—relaxed and not willing to move, but not drowsy. More like… content. It felt entirely foreign to him.
They talked, about nothing in particular at first, but eventually they turned to the attack on her mother's house. "Any word yet on who did it?"
"The police have chalked it up to organized crime coming after the Senator because of some legislation he was sponsoring."
Kellen didn't miss what she left unsaid. "And what do you think?"
"I think I'm glad the official investigation closed earlier today so I can go about finding who actually did it."
"I heard that. Most of them seem well-intentioned, but they mostly just get in the way." In his own experience, Kellen could enforce the law far more effectively than sworn police officers. And he didn't mind getting his hands a little dirty to do it. "You have any leads?"
"A couple. But you don't want to know, or get involved with this shit. It isn't your problem."
She was right, of course. Not his problem. He should just walk away. "I know." Should he tell her what he already knew? Definitely, he decided. In this case, information might keep her safe. "Remember that shit on the mirror? I got a picture of it the other day. It looked a little familiar."
Vicki leaned forward and turned a little to look at him. "Baby, I'm serious. You don't want to poke around in this."
He settled her back against his side. "Too late, little girl. I already did. A couple of my boys recognized that shit."
She tensed a little but didn't pull away or say anything.
"What'd you do to piss off the Russians?"
Her body stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"That tag is a form of one used by the Russian mob to send messages. And I couldn't help but notice when that cop talked to you, your last name sounds sorta Russian. So, I ask you again, what'd you do to piss off the Russians?" No way she hadn't recognized that tag. Little girl knew exactly who she was dealing with and why. And he wasn't taking that innocent act for an answer.
She sighed and let her body go loose again. "My father was Russian. When the Soviet Union collapsed, he did the same thing a lot of other enterprising men did. He put everything he could scrape together into the old military surplus, and resold it at a tidy profit."
"And he got involved with the mob. So you were telling the truth when you said you inherited the gun business." Mildly surprising.
She nodded. "My father died two years ago, right before my twentieth birthday, in a questionable car accident and I stepped into running the business, as I'd been trained. About a year ago, I was contacted anonymously and told to make good on the deal my father reneged on, or pay the consequences. Since then, nothing, until the attack. I think it was the same people."
Damn, little girl was in some trouble from the sound of it. "You think they'll let it go at that?"
"No, I don't. One of my guys went missing in that attack, and I don't think he just walked away. I think they took him to get information."
Kellen's belly tightened. "So if they did, what kind of information could this guy give up, given the right incentive?"
"Thankfully, not a lot. I've followed my father's habit of making sure no one person knew very much. No one but me knows the full scope of what I do. But if they don't get what they want from him, they'll take someone else, then someone else."
"What are you going to do?"
"I have to stop it, one way or another." She lifted a hand toward the sheaf of papers on the coffee table. "I'm going through my father's old notes, trying to narrow down who it might be." She turned so that she partially faced him and laid her head on his chest. "Can we just forget it for a little bit? It's been a long few days."
Kellen lifted his hand to tangle in a lock of her hair. "Yeah, we can." He gathered her closer and drew her into his lap. Even with all her lushness right there in his lap, and his hard-on ready to rip through his jeans, he didn't push. He cradled her and stroked her hair. She could take the lead and he would just give her what she needed.
Where the hell had all that nice guy shit come from? It sure wasn't him. The only reason he even bothered attempting to please a woman was to make it better for himself. His memory shot back to the night they'd shared at his grandparents' old place. That time didn't count.
Vicki lay there in his arms, her soft breath warm, even through his t-shirt. That feeling of contentment reared its ugly head again, threatening to lure him in.
She moved a little to look up at him, those striking golden eyes practically luminous in the low light. Those luscious lips parted in an invitation that left him utterly powerless to resist.
Kellen leaned in to brush his mouth across hers in an exploratory caress that left his pulse pounding in his temples. No woman should feel that good. Simply the silken glide of her lips under his sent him on a quest to make it last forever.
Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer, he had to have more. The tip of his tongue flicked across her lower lip, just the tiniest taste. He had to have more. Much more. Another small taste drew a little moan from her and she responded in kind, licking along the edge of his upper lip.
The kiss deepened as her arms slid around his shoulders. The inside of her mouth must be what paradise tasted like, because nothing could be better. The velvet rasp of her tongue along his did it. He turned to let her lie back, and stretched out alongside her, his thigh trapping her legs and allowing him to maintain exactly the right pressure between his erection and her hip. With her head pillowed on his forearm, he settled his other hand at her waist and deepened the kiss further.
His fingers slid under the edge of the silky shirt she wore. The first contact with the sleek satin of her belly drew a gasp from her and encouraged him to continue. Her muscles rippled as he let his hand wonder, stopping to play at each landmark he encountered. His thumb brushed the lower curve of her breast and she made another sound.
An annoying beep-beep-beep sounded nearby. Vicki groaned. "Oh, damn, I'm sorry, but I have to get that."
Silently cursing the timing of whoever called her, Kellen moved and helped her sit so she could reach her phone. "It's okay." What the hell? Any other time he'd have bypassed pissed and gone straight to rage if a bitch tried to answer her phone while he was getting busy. The thought made him pause. Yes, he was frustrated beyond comprehension and pissed at the interruption, but somehow, he failed to lay the blame on her for stopping. He sat back to contemplate this new state of affairs.
A note of concern in Vicki's voice drew his attention. "…sure it's for me? I'm not expecting anything?" She frowned through a brief pause. "Okay, bring it up." She hung up, shaking her head. "Will wonders never cease? Apparently, my cousin in Pittsburgh, whom we hear from maybe once a year, felt it was vital to send me a small package by courier. Supposedly something my father entrusted to him, and now that my mother is gone, I need it urgently."
Kellen glanced at his watch. "Three in the morning is kind of an odd time for a courier to be dropping a package off, isn't it?"
A small furrow crossed her brow. "Yeah, it is." A buzzer sounded and she rose and headed for the door. "I suppose I'll see." At the door, she spoke quietly to someone, and Kellen made out a male voice in reply.
She finally returned, carrying a brown-wrapped package maybe eight inches square and about six inches deep. Attached to the top of the box, a thick cream colored envelope had several lines of elegant handwriting across the front. She took an old-fashioned stationary card from the envelope and read, o
ne brow arching slightly upward.
"Hmmm. This is from a different cousin, one I had no idea even existed. Apparently he and my father grew up together and came here at the same time. He says that about ten years ago, my father gave him this package, exactly as it is, and asked him to keep it. He wanted it to be sent to me immediately after both he and my mother were gone. And he stressed the immediately part."
The play of Vicki's features as she read back over the note fascinated Kellen. Sure, he'd like to know what the box held, but at the moment, he'd rather just study her face. He gave himself a stern mental shake. "You going to open it?"
She looked up. "I'm afraid to."
"Well, you're not going to know what's in it until you do."
"Okay." She took a deep breath turned the box over again. Finally, she tore the brown paper wrapper away to reveal a sturdy white box. Another deep breath, and she lifted the lid from the box. For a long moment she just stared into the box, then lifted out a small, leather-bound book. A slip of paper followed, and then another book identical to the first.
She paused long enough to read the short note on the slip of paper, then flipped through the first book. "Oh my God. His old ledgers. There might be information on whoever thinks I still owe them. He used the same buyers all the time, because he didn't trust new people. I never knew all the people he dealt with."
"You think that stuff is still current? The note said ten years, right?" Kellen had a few business contacts he'd maintained that long, and of course older clubs did the same, but mostly, the people he dealt with came and went. The criminal world was generally a transient thing. "People in the gun business and similar things tend to not have long careers. Jail and the undertakers are always waiting to put us out of a job."
The pages crinkled a little as she leafed through more slowly, pausing to look at entries. "These guys have serious backing. Big money and politicians side-by-side to cover for them. It's a lifelong career for them."
The laugh burst out before he could catch it. "Sorry, but that's just funny. You're talking about a whole different breed of criminal there."
"That's the kind of criminal my father was, the kind I am." She gave him one of those priceless grins. "And I get to hide it behind pretty dresses and nice nails."
Kellen shook his head. "Them ol' boys don't even see you coming, do they?" He liked the little glimpse into her thought process.
Nothing fake about her laugh. "No, they don't." She sobered. "Of course, that could be part of why I'm in this position now. I tend to push the limits of good business and take all the advantage I can. Some people don't appreciate that."
"No, I'd say not. And some probably don't have an issue with saying how much they don't appreciate it. The question is, who would rather show than tell?"
Chapter Nine
By the time Kellen parked at the clubhouse and stretched his back, the sun had started to dip behind Zion Ridge. The time with Vicki in her apartment felt like a distant memory, even though only two hours of road lay between them. Two whole different worlds. The biggest problem was, even though he'd spent several hours enjoying her body, if anything, he wanted her more than ever. Better not become a problem.
The front door stood open to catch the evening breeze and the plaintive notes of Hank Williams, Sr.'s I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry drifted from inside. The choice of music promised a touchy evening ahead. Fabio chose to play Ol' Hank whenever he took a trip down memory lane. None of the others knew the details, but they all knew quite well when Fabio relived his past, everybody better walk lightly.
Trip looked up from his sketch book as Kellen stepped through the door, pointedly looked to where Fabio sat nursing a bottle of JD Black and staring off into space.
Kellen nodded his appreciation for the heads up. Sure, he already knew the evening could go sideways, but Trip's silent warning of the danger could have saved lives if Kellen hadn't noticed the music. That's what a good VP did. Where the hell was Hack? Off chasing his next pill, no doubt. Certainly not doing his job anyway.
The rest of the club had made themselves scarce in the face of Fabio's nasty mood, well aware of what could happen if anyone caught his attention. Kellen gave him a wide berth as well, and headed for the back of the house where he expected to find some of the others. Time to start feeling people out about where they stood on Hack being replaced.
On the back porch, he found Dix reading an old paperback western and gingerly holding ice to his split lip. "Hey, boss. Thanks for pulling me out of that mess at the Rattlesnake. I really thought Georgie was going get the better of me there for a minute."
A chuckle escaped Kellen. "Had me worried she'd take us both down. Why the hell did you have to tell her that?"
Dix shrugged. "Who knew she'd have a fit over a guy saying she looked hot with her hair down?"
Kellen dropped into the other chair. "Who knows why a female does anything? Couple things you should know about Georgie. She used to be a cop but got fired for excessive force. Rita, the chick that owns the Rattlesnake, found her passed out drunk, saved her from some bum about to rape her. So maybe she doesn't want to look hot."
Dix closed his eyes a moment, and his efforts to suppress his scowl failed at first. When he had control of his expression, he opened his eyes again. "Well, she can consider me warned off, at least."
Kellen had some doubts on that one, but remained silent. The prospect's love life was none of his concern as long as it didn't interfere with Club business. Speaking of which… "Hey, Dix, I know you're not a voting member, but there's a good chance you will be eventually, so I figure you should have some say too. I'm thinking about asking for a vote to tap somebody else for VP. What do you think?"
Dix shrugged again and closed his paperback. "Honestly?"
"Of course."
"I've been watching a lot. Hack is getting more and more absent. It seems like the Club is taking a back seat to his habit. That's not good for the Club." The prospect's words, although barely audible, hit like stones. They also confirmed Kellen's impression that Dix would make a good solid Hell Raider. The kid's year would be up soon and the Club would vote whether to make him a full member, let him continue as a prospective member, or kick him to the curb.
Kellen's vote would be for a full patch. "Thanks for going out on a limb, kid. I appreciate the input. Keep it under your hat."
"Yeah, boss. Anything I can do to help, just say it." Dix opened his western again, and just like that, went back to reading.
"Thanks, I will." Kellen rose. Time to take his act to a tougher crowd. He needed two full members to call for a new VP, but he also need a majority of votes to make it happen, as well as to back Trip in the position. Determined to follow through now that he'd taken the first step, Kellen headed for the barn. Sounded like some of the others were out there sparring.
The dim glow of the old shop light attracted a cloud of moths and other insects in the gathering twilight. The solid thump, thump, thump-thump-thump of someone working the heavy bag greeted Kellen, punctuated by the repetitive cracks of Crank with his practice dummy. The sound renewed the sharp pain in Kellen's shin.
He paused just inside the door as Crank landed a flurry of kicks and punches on the poor dummy's body. "You're going to kill that fucker one of these days."
Crank grunted and delivered more punishment.
Over by the bag, Skates stepped back, breathing heavily. "Hey boss, 'sup?"
Kellen nodded. "Don't stop on my account. It can wait."
Finished with his combination, Crank stepped back as well. "Wha'cho need, boss?"
First things first. "Anybody seen Hack in the last little bit?"
"Nah, man. He lef' maybe two hours ago. Said he be back in the morning. Yo need som'pin done?" Crank's version of thug talk sometimes left his meaning in doubt. Not this time.
"Not really. Wanted to ask you guys something." Kellen concealed the deep breath he took. The two men never publicly allied themselves with Hack, but like all the Raid
ers, they were fiercely loyal, and might object to his ideas.
"Anything, boss. Name it." Skates started to pull the protective tape from around his knuckles.
"How you guys think Hack's doing as VP?" Caution prevented him from asking outright if they thought the bastard should be dropped.
The pair exchanged a significant glance. Crank threw a strip of tape into an old five-gallon bucket kept there for that purpose. "Hate to say it, man, but he ain't doin' so hot. Chasin' pills too hard."
Skates nodded. "To be honest, a few of us have had money on how long it would it take you to call for a vote. We need somebody else in the seat."
Something in Kellen's chest loosened, something he hadn't even been aware of. If he'd been a religious bastard, he might have offered up a prayer of thanks. "Any idea who you'd like to see there?"
"Trip be the best for it. Gots him a head for business, be good for the club." Crank grinned. "But don' matter none to me, whoever you says, I'll back."
"Thanks, Crank. That means a lot. But I think you're right. Trip would be the best for the job."
Skates simply nodded his agreement as he dropped the last of his tape in the bucket.
"Another question, then. How many of the boys are looking for a vote?" Yet another factor to consider before he thought about moving forward.
Skates shrugged again and grabbed his cut off the rail. "I can only think of one that might not be ready. Lefty is pretty tight with Hack, but even he's mentioned that Hack ain't paying enough attention to the club."
"Good to know." Kellen turned to head back toward the house. Now he had to decide on a timeline for this big move. It would be the first time in history an Officer of the club would be demoted by vote. He couldn't see any way around it though. Best move for the Hell Raiders. Nothing else mattered.
