by Marla Monroe
“Well, one thing I can say about him. He learned to keep us stocked in bathroom supplies. I just think that having an abundance of poop paper doesn’t compare to the cost of keeping a hundred more batteries than we need. What about the prospect?”
“Scooby’s a damn good prospect and can follow directions better than most of us do, but he’s no mechanic. Has to have help cleaning and taking care of his piece of shit bike as it is. He’s out.”
Gunner turned up the rest of the whiskey before slamming the shot glass upside down on the bar. The waitress picked it up and wiped the bar before setting the glass on a tray to be washed.
“That leaves you, Cowboy, and Jinx,” Gunner drawled. “Think you can handle a regular job on top of security?”
“I’m not much better than Bush when it comes to knowing how much to order and when to do it. I can work the front when they need me to, and I plan to work in the bike shop, but I’m no inventory person.” Hawk resisted the urge to gag at the idea of sitting inside behind a desk all the time. It was the one thing about going legit that bothered him. They weren’t nine-to-five office types. They were bikers, use to the open road and causing mayhem.
“Wonder if old Hank was able to tow the lady’s truck in and fix it?”
Hawk stared at Gunner before shaking his head. He smelled trouble.
Chapter Three
“Eight hundred dollars? Are you kidding me? That’s highway robbery!” Jackie pulled at her hair in frustration.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s about the size of it. The radiator is shot. There were two large holes, and one corner area was about to go, as well. I’m going to have to put in a new radiator, the hose, and a new bracket ’cause one of them is about to fall off from rust where the radiator’s been leaking for Lord knows how long,” the old man said.
“A damn radiator for the truck shouldn’t be over two hundred, two hundred fifty dollars. The hose and bracket would be what?” She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe another one fifty at the most. Get me the fucking parts, and I’ll do the work myself. I’m not paying four hundred dollars in labor. What are you doing, trying to pad your retirement fund?”
“T’aint that, lady. I have to order them parts, and the shipping is what drives the price up. We don’t have no parts store within almost two hour’s drive here. Them bikers are putting one in, but ain’t open yet.” He grimaced and shook his head. “I’ll call around to see if I can find a used radiator and get it shipped, but that takes time, and I doubt you’ll save more than fifty or sixty dollars on it.”
“I don’t believe it. How long before you can get the parts in?” Jackie asked in exasperation.
She was going to have to find a job somewhere in this hellhole to make enough money to pay for all of it. All she had to her name was the truck, her stuff, and about hundred and eighty dollars. With food and the motel room, that wouldn’t last long at all. She’d probably need to sleep in her truck from now on.
“Figure if I get the parts new I can get them here in another two days with rush delivery. Of course that’ll cost more. Otherwise, it will be three to four days depending on the weekend.”
“Ah, hell. Order the parts but don’t put the rush on it. I don’t have enough money now as it is. I’m going to have to find a temporary job to pay you,” she said.
“Got it, but I’ve got to have at least three hundred to order them.” When she opened her mouth to protest he held up his hands. “Sorry, lady but that’s how it is.”
“I don’t have that much. Will you at least let my truck stay parked outside the garage until I can get you the money?” she asked.
“Sure thing, hon. I’ll park it right over there next to the scrap heap. Guy won’t be around to pick it all up until first of the month anyway. You just let me know when you have the money and I’ll order them parts for you.” He smiled and left her standing in the gravel lot staring at her truck.
I guess things were going just a little too smoothly after all. Funny that being abducted by bikers was still too easy for me that I’m going to have to deal with finding a job to pay an arm and a leg just to be able to drive out of this place.
Where in the world was she going to find a job in a place like this? There was the diner, the motel, a general store of some type, a hardware slash feed store, and a bar. The motel wasn’t going to need anyone, and the diner looked well-staffed, but she’d check and see anyway. The one thing she didn’t want to have to do was waitress at a bar. Knowing her luck, that was exactly what it would come down to.
Jackie wasn’t about to take a chance that she’d miss something, so she hit all the other spots in town first. No one had an opening. The bulletin board at the general store that also served as a grocer was empty of anything other than lost pets, equipment for sale, or AA and NA meeting schedules. That left the bar and her last chance at an easy way out of her troubles.
Hell, I’ve done worse things than parade around in tight jeans and a low-cut shirt to pay bills in the past.
“Pull up your big girl panties, Jackie and start walking.”
From the outside, the place didn’t look all that bad. The building had recently been painted and the sign that proclaimed it The Wagon Master Bar and Grill looked straight where it was mounted on the roof over the door. Music seeped through the small cracks around the door though there were only two trucks and a couple of bikes parked in the lot. Until that moment, Jackie hadn’t considered that the guys from the day before might live in town. She’d figured they were passing through just like she’d been. But, they’d known there was a garage in town and what time it closed. They also knew where it was.
“They probably pass through town all the time on their way to and from whatever illegal shit they were into,” she muttered as she stared once more at the dusty bikes.
She didn’t recognize them, but then she hadn’t actually been paying attention to what they’d been riding. All her attention had been on the ones doing the riding, that sexy voice and those well-defined muscular thighs.
God, don’t get me started. I need to think about work and making enough money to fix my piece of shit truck. I don’t have time for men or mayhem. It’s all about the moola right now.
But that didn’t make her feel any better. She’d shoved the experience all the way to the back of her brain where other less desirable memories lay and hadn’t thought about it again. Yeah, her dreams had been filled with good-looking, rough around the edges smooth-talking men, but they hadn’t worn leather vests or ridden motorcycles.
Only because they were in my bed and not wearing anything. The fact that there were two of them who looked like those two bikers doesn’t count. I never really saw the one with the orgasm-generating voice anyway.
Jackie took one step in the direction of the door then looked down and adjusted the multiple leather and silicone support bands to be sure they hid the scars. Then she took another step and another until she’d reached the door. Just as she started to grab the doorknob, it swung open, and two burly looking men nearly knocked her over stomping out of the building.
“Whoa there, sweetheart. Sorry, didn’t see you,” one of the men said, sporting a slight beer belly and wearing a ball cap over what she was fairly sure was a bald head.
“No problem.” She smiled and watched over her shoulder as they walked over to one of the dusty trucks and climbed in.
Crap, not the bikers. They’re still in there.
Jackie drew in a deep breath then opened the door. She stepped inside and realized that the music was pretty low for a bar and, though it was a little dim in the huge room, she could see around her. The scent of cigarette smoke tickled her nose, but there wasn’t enough in the air to be irritating. Most places didn’t allow smoking inside now, but if this was a biker bar, no one was going to say anything about it.
Please don’t belong to those bikers from yesterday.
A table near the back had been claimed by two men wearing leather vests leaning close to talk while they nurs
ed their beers. Another man sat at the bar in the middle holding what she figured was a glass of whiskey between the palms of his hands. She didn’t see anyone else in the room other than a hefty man that stood about six feet with a ponytail of brown hair and a short brown beard. He had a soft expression as he talked to one of the waitresses. Since he wasn’t wearing a leather vest, Jackie held out some hope that it wasn’t a biker bar after all.
She walked over to where the bartender leaned over the bar, listening to a short waitress with a head full of dirty blonde hair. Since it didn’t appear to be about business, she cleared her throat, stopping just short of being within hearing distance of their obviously intimate conversation.
The man looked up with a smile and nodded. “What can I get you, honey?” he asked in a gruff voice.
The waitress remained sitting on the bar stool with her elbows on the bar on either side of her tray. She didn’t look like a bar waitress. Her face had an almost angelic look to it with wide blue eyes and pouty pink lips. If she was even a day over eighteen, Jackie couldn’t see it with binoculars. For one thing, she didn’t have that certain “old” look around the eyes that hard living gives you almost at the beginning.
“Is the manager or the owner in?” she asked.
“Not the manager, hon, and the owners aren’t here right now. What can I help you with?” he asked again.
“I’m looking for a job if you have an opening. I can tend bar, wait tables, cook, or wash dishes. Any chance you can give me a try?” she asked.
The waitress giggled then popped her hand over her mouth. Jackie frowned, knowing she had a puzzled look on her face, until it finally hit her what the girl was laughing about.
“Not give me a try that way,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
The big man just smiled and shook his head. “Yeah. I do. As it so happens, we do need a part-time waitress and a part-time cook. Probably not enough hours just working one way or the other. If you want to work both and Scoot, the manager, hires you, I can arrange some of the shifts that are open so you can cook then pull a few hours on the floor.”
Despite usually keeping her feelings off her face, Jackie felt the relief of having a way to fix her immediate problem. Finally, something was going her way.
“What. The. Fuck!”
A voice from behind her shot that thought right out of the sky in a heartbeat.
* * * *
Gunner couldn’t believe his eyes when he and Hawk walked into The Wagon Master after church that morning. His buddy ran into him from behind when he’d stopped midstride to stare at the hitchhiker from the day before. What the hell was she still doing in town?
“G, man? What the fuck?” Hawk stepped around him but stopped whatever he’d been about to say when he caught sight of the girl.
“I thought you’d be long gone from here by now,” he snapped as he strode to where she stood glaring at him like he’d done something to her.
“Truck needs a radiator then I’ll be back on the road,” she snarled back.
“Not soon enough,” he mumbled under his breath before slapping his hand on the bar a few feet down from where she leaned against the bar. “Duke, two beers.”
Turning his back to her, he nodded at Hawk and walked to the back where Cowboy and Jinx nursed their drinks. He jerked out one of the chairs and turned it around to straddle it. Hawk took the one to the right of him and plopped down without a word. Gunner could hear the questions boiling in the back of his friend’s head, though. Hawk didn’t let anything get by him.
“Cowboy, Jinx. Hear any more talk about the problem with the One-Niners?” he asked his fellow brothers.
“Nothing yet,” Cowboy said. “We were just talking about how the bastards just disappeared off the radar. I’d almost believe talk of them trying to cause trouble was just a rumor, except that stirring the pot is what they love to do.”
“What it all comes down to is what’s in it for them if they screw up our sanctuary plans. What do they stand to gain? Any ideas?” Hawk asked.
“Nope. Not yet.” Jinx turned up his beer and sat back. “Do you think we’ve got too many irons in the fire, Hawk?”
Gunner stilled at the other man’s comment. As vice president, Hawk held a good bit of power and information. It was saying something that Jinx felt comfortable enough to ask something like that without Terror or Rage present. Rage was the president of The Howling Death MC with his twin brother as his partner in the role.
“We’re spreading it pretty thin, Jinx, but we’ve got new blood rolling in every day. If we don’t get everything up and going as soon as possible, we’re going to need a way to augment our finances.” Hawk leaned forward, laying his forearms on the table. “And we all agreed we wanted out of the darker parts of the business.”
“I agree,” Jinx said. “I’m just worried with whatever is going on between the Vipers and the One-Niners is going to catch us with our pants down.”
“Ever since Homeland pissed all over their weapons deal last year, the Vipers have been struggling to reform and regroup. Losing the top echelon of their leadership had effectively screwed them out of anything big enough to fund the MC. That means they’ve got something else going on we don’t know about,” Cowboy added.
“True, but we’ve got it covered. Is this something working around the club or just the two of you voicing your own ideas?” Gunner asked them.
Both men sat back slowly and flattened their hands on the table. He realized his edgy side had come out when he’d seen the woman he’d wanted to forget about standing at the bar. He needed to tone it down some before he said or did something he couldn’t take back.
“Some of the guys are concerned, but no one is complaining. It’s not anything that’s a problem, Gunner,” Jinx told him in a low, clear voice.
“Good. Maybe we should have a town hall meeting with everyone and talk about it,” Hawk suggested, looking at Gunner as he said it.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Gunner agreed.
“Here you go, guys.” Duke set their beer in front of them and exchanged Jinx’s and Cowboy’s for fresh ones, as well. “Is Scoot going to be by this afternoon?”
“Said he’s planning to come in around seven. Why? Problem?” Hawk asked.
“No. Got someone wanting the waitress and cook jobs. Didn’t know whether to have her stick around or come back,” he said.
Gunner’s pulse stuttered. Did he fucking mean the woman he’d just spoken to? He turned around to stare at the sinfully sexy one talking with Trish. Looking around, he realized there wasn’t another female in the room. Unless she’d hit the john while Duke brought over their beers, the woman he’d been trying to forget about was the one the bartender was referring to.
Well, fuck me.
“That her?” Hawk asked, nodding at the same one Gunner stared at.
“Yep, name’s Jack, short for Jackie. Got experience in everything including bartending, so she’s perfect to fill all the part-time slots we can’t fill,” Duke told them.
“Why hire her when she’s not sticking around?” he asked.
“None of them stay for long, Gunner. Help now is better than no help now.” Hawk stared hard at him. “What is it about her that pisses you off, man?”
“Nothing.” He stood and turned the chair back around to face the table. “I’ll go call Scoot to get him on out here.”
Duke exchanged looks with the other guys before returning to the bar to talk to the broad. What had he said her name was? Jack-Jackie? What kind of name was that for a woman anyway?
Hawk just nodded but didn’t say anything. Gunner knew he would have a lot to answer for when they were out of earshot of anyone else. Couldn’t really blame the man. He was the vice president as well as his best friend. He owed the man respect as well as an explanation for his shitty attitude.
Gunner walked across the room toward the door. The weight of her gaze was almost bruising as he stepped outside to make the call. It
wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that he was able to breathe without struggling. He refused to let it mean anything. Instead, he punched in Scoot’s number and waited while it rang then went to voice mail.
Gunner left a brief message then ended the call with a low growl. Going back inside meant awareness that she would still be there, waiting to talk to Scoot. He’d gotten close enough when he’d first arrived to find out that her light brown eyes reminded him of doe eyes. Her shaggy, kind of screwed-up hair fell just past her shoulders in a variegated rainbow of rich browns and lighter shades that gave it a sun-streaked look.
And there he was thinking about her when he should have been forgetting all about her after seeing the scars on her wrists. The first thing he’d looked for when he realized it was her at the bar had been her wrists. He’d noticed that she’d covered them with those silicone remembrance bracelets as well as a wide leather one on her right wrist.
He paced back and forth at a slow clip as he thought about her comment and the news that she was looking for a job. She obviously needed the money to fix that heap of shit she’d had to have towed in. The best way to settle everything would be to pay to get the truck fixed so she could get out of town and out of his head. He didn’t need the distraction with everything the MC had going on at the moment. Just knowing she was in town would screw with his head if he let it and at the moment, he didn’t have a lot of leftover energy to keep it out.
“Fuck!”
It wasn’t her dangerous curves or thoughts of those thick muscular thighs wrapped around his waist that held his attention. He wasn’t focused on how delicious her tits looked smashed against his partner’s back. It was those damn scars. They pissed him off. He couldn’t interfere with Scoot’s business as the manager of the bar no matter how much he wanted to ask the man to refuse to hire her.
