Lily (The Regulators Biker Series Book 0)

by Carolina Mac

  “I’m training one of the boys, this week to take over the gun shop.”

  “Who? Do I know him?”

  “Porky. You don’t know him. He’s out of work—not too bright, but I need somebody.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “We need to talk later.”

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  “It’s all good, Annie. We have to make a plan, that’s all. Call me after the insurance dude leaves.”

  While I was drying my hair, I examined the jagged mark on my cheek. The stitches had started to dissolve, but the cut was red and uneven. It was on the opposite cheek to George’s, but it was definitely going to leave a scar. The lacerations on my arms and chest, I left unbandaged hoping they might heal faster exposed to the air. I rebandaged the ones on my feet and put a pair of socks over them to keep them clean. The black and blue marks would fade in a few days, but today they reminded me of my time with Matthew—something I didn’t care to recall.

  Sweats or a skirt were my only choices—the bandage on my leg was too bulky for blue jeans. I slipped on a short denim skirt, a turquoise tank top and a pair of Nikes.

  I sat down on the porch steps and called George.

  “Gun shop.”

  “Hey, my sexgod, how goes the battle?”

  “Fuck. When you say shit like that to me, I get all hot and crazy.”

  “I’ll remember that for future use,” I laughed. “Is Porky there?”

  “He went out for coffee.”

  “The insurance adjuster was here. Said he can’t do much until he gets a copy of the police report for the files. He asked me if I needed a rental car, but I declined. I’m thinking of buying a Humvee when I’m able to drive again.”

  “Always wanted one of those mothers—never got around to it,” he said. “Want me to drive you to the dealership later and then I'll take you to Buck’s for a burger?”

  “Sure,” I said. “But if I'm going truck shopping, I better lay down on the sofa for a nap.”

  SOMETIME later, I woke to my cell ringing on the coffee table. I grabbed it half asleep and pressed talk.

  “Mrs. Talbot? This is Mrs. Allen at Mowat Secondary School. I’m pleased to tell you that I did find a student named Grace Brownell that attended our school in 1985, and I have an old year book that you can look at if you want to drop by.”

  “That’s great news, Mrs. Allen. I just got out of the hospital, so I won’t be mobile for a couple of days. I’ll come by as soon as I can. Thanks again.”

  My heart was beating fast, and I wanted to go right away, but I just couldn’t manage it at the moment. Finally, I might get to see what my mother looked like.

  AT six-thirty I was sitting on the porch drinking a beer, waiting for George to pick me up.

  The Screamin’ Eagle roared into the driveway and I motioned him over to have a cold one before we left. “I needed that, baby girl. You always know what I need,” he kissed me, and I wanted him right there on the porch. I tried to rein in my hormones, and I fought hard, but I wasn’t strong enough. I sucked in a deep breath and stood up, with the help of my crutch.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Umm . . . no.” I hesitated. “I need you inside me before we go.”

  A look of surprise crossed George’s face, but he grinned and carried me back into the house, and to the sofa. When I caught my breath, I straightened up my clothes and tried to tame my unruly hair with my hand.

  “Sorry, I’m making us late,” I whispered.

  “You had a damn good reason, baby. Doesn’t matter what time we get there.”

  George placed me on the back of the Eagle. I did up my helmet and wrapped my arms around him. When we got to the Hummer dealership George bent down and kissed me in the parking lot before he helped me off the bike.

  I was slow getting up the two, wide stairs and into the massive, shiny showroom, but slow and steady and all that.

  “I have an appointment with Rodney Baker,” I said to the girl doing crossword puzzles at the front desk.

  Without speaking she blew a huge pink bubble, leaned over and pressed a button on her phone. “Customer,” she said without looking up.

  I glanced at George and he shrugged. Moments later a tall rangy dude with short cropped gray hair and rumpled clothes strode towards us with his hand extended in George’s direction. “Rodney Baker,” he said, “how can I help you?”

  I leaned into his line of sight. “I called about the black Hummer that you have in stock.”

  “Oh yes, now I remember.” He smiled politely and looked back at George. “Would you like to take her for a test drive, sir?”

  George pointed to me and I nodded. “Yes, I believe a test drive would be the thing to do.”

  While Mr. Baker went to fetch the keys, George helped me out to the vehicle and lifted me into the passenger seat. Mr. Baker piled in the back and with a powerful rumble George headed up McCowan and toward the highway. After he let it out on the highway for a bit, he circled round and then drove back to the dealership.

  “I can give you a great deal, sir.” The salesman said.

  “Probably no better than anywhere else,” I said, “if I felt like looking around.”

  Mr. Baker smiled again but kept his attention focused on the man in the driver's seat. “Will you need financing?”

  I watched George set his jaw. He swung around real slow and slid his palm against my head rest. When he was looking the man straight in the eye he spoke low and slow. “I don’t need fuck all, mister. The lady is buying the Hummer and if you don’t want to talk to her you can shove this deal up your ass.”

  Mr. Baker flushed crimson as he offered me a forced smile. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.”

  I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh. “Just give me the bottom line and I’ll sign.”

  “When can we pick it up?” asked George.

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Done. Let’s write it up.”

  BUCK’S bar was packed on a Friday night. We sat in our regular booth and Buck brought over a pitcher and glasses as soon as he saw us.

  “Heard about the bomb, Portia. You okay?” He eyed my face. “That’s a nasty gash.”

  “It’ll heal. Then George and I will have matching scars.” I smiled.

  George laughed and lit up a smoke.

  “Saw on the news about those junkies biting it in their beds. Hear about that, George?”

  “Nope. Don’t watch the news, Buck. Too much fuckin’ bad stuff happening out there. Keeps you awake at night.” George leaned over slowly, took his knife out of his boot and jammed it into the wooden table beside Buck’s hand.

  “You guys want food?” Buck asked with a scowl as he jerked his hand back.

  “Cheeseburgers and fries,” George said with a grin.

  So, that’s why George wasn’t worried about Barbwire. I knew by the look on his face that a man like him would never let something like that go.

  “You’re my hero,” I said tracing the muscle along his arm.

  “I’m nobody’s hero,” he said with a scowl and drained his glass.

  “Before the food comes, I’m going to the lady’s room.” I picked up my purse as George nodded. On my way back to the table, one of the pool players grabbed my arm, pulled me towards him and tried to kiss me. I let out a cry as I twisted, unsteady on my sore leg. I stumbled against the pool table and sucked in a breath.

  “Come and play with us, honey,” he slurred as he reached for me.

  I gave him a shove. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Aw, come on, sweetheart, be nice.”

  I meant to smack him in the face, but he grabbed my wrist. My bad leg couldn't take the strain and I screamed as I fell to the floor.

  George came from behind, picked me up and carried me back to our booth. After he checked my bandages and made sure I was okay, he turned on his heel and the pool players headed for the back door. Jackson blocked their exit and before long I heard the sound of cracking b
one.

  George lingered at the back for another couple of minutes imparting words of wisdom close to their faces. The scruffy pool players nodded their heads in unison and looked like they might piss themselves. After George returned to our table, they threw money on the bar and left.

  “You okay, baby girl?”

  “Bit of pain in my leg. I’m fine. Thanks, George—didn’t see that coming,” I said, touching his hand.

  “Girl that looks like you, honey—that’s always comin’.” He winked and filled his glass.

  Buck walked over and set our plates down. “Eat hearty,” he said.

  After we cleaned up the last of the French fries, I said, “You mentioned earlier we needed to talk about a plan.”

  “Yeah, we do. By the end of the week, Porky should be able to run the store, and Jackson and I have worked everything else out. Next week, we’ll go up to your cabin for a while and see what happens.”

  “Like a test?”

  “Right. A test run. Might be a fuckin’ disaster, but we’ll see.”

  “George, you don’t have to make changes in your life for me. I would never expect that.”

  “Maybe I want to make a change and now might be the time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  GEORGE left for the shop at eight-thirty while I lingered at the kitchen table nursing my second cup of coffee. The phone rang and it was Jerry O’Keefe the Fire Marshall.

  “We finished our investigation yesterday and you can have the wreckage removed from your driveway,” he said. “The insurance company will get a copy of our findings. I’ve already had a conversation with your adjuster, Lionel Bachus.”

  “Thanks. That’s good news. I’ll make some arrangements. I’m sure my neighbors don’t like looking at the mess or smelling it any more than I do.”

  I hung up the phone and it rang again. It was George. “Hey, Annie. What’s up?”

  “The fire inspector called, said he was finished, and the Jeep could be hauled away. Apex called for an update.”

  “I know a guy with a wrecking yard that will take the Jeep,” George said.

  “That’s one off my list. How’s Porky doing today?”

  “Not bad. He served a couple customers and he knows how to operate the debit and the credit card machine. He just doesn’t know fuck all about guns.”

  “Compared to you, George, nobody knows fuck all about them.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” He chuckled. “This afternoon, I’m putting Porky on gun cleaning detail. If he takes ‘em apart and puts ‘em back together enough times, maybe he’ll get the drift.”

  “That’s a good idea. Maybe he should take some notes for when you’re not there.”

  “Fuck. That’s funny. I could just see Porky takin’ notes. Shit, you make me laugh.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” I said, “among other things.”

  “It’s those other things I think about all day long.”

  “I’ll show you one of those things if you come home for lunch and give me a ride to the Hummer dealership.”

  “I’m out the fuckin’ door.”

  George arrived in the front foyer eleven minutes later. “I’m up here,” I called over the banister.” His tanned face was flushed when he reached the top of the stairs and saw me leaning against the bedroom door wearing only my bandage and a red bandana around my neck.

  “Jesus, Annie. You make me crazy.” He picked me up and carried me to the bed, paying special attention to my sore leg. Starting at the bandana, he worked his way down the length of my body kissing me, lingering a while around my breasts and continuing on south. By the time he reached my belly, I was dying.

  “I need you now, big guy. Please, stop the torture and get inside me.”

  He laughed against my skin and made me wait until I was worked into a frenzy. When he finally gave in and slid his erection into my heat, I moaned at the perfection of it. My orgasm blew off the charts—if there are charts.

  After I was good and content, George filled me with his heat and closed his eyes.

  An hour later, I spent a few minutes in the bathroom, and when I came out, I took a peek at George to see if he was moving. Nope, still breathless and exhausted.

  “Hey, big guy. Can you give me a ride, or should I call a cab?” I laughed.

  “Oh, baby. That was fuckin’ unbelievable. I think I’m dead.” He let out a long moan.

  By the time I had thrown on my skirt and a t-shirt, George was sitting on the side of the bed. “I gotta’ cut down on the butts. I can barely breathe.”

  I kissed him and shoved my tongue in his mouth. “Want to go again?”

  “I’m goin’ back to work, to rest,” he wheezed, picked his jeans up off the floor and slowly pulled them on.

  The bank was my first stop, then George dropped me at the dealership and roared off to work. I limped by the Hummer, peering in the windows on my way into the showroom and wondering if it was ready to go. Mr. Baker had told me everything was set when he had called earlier, but I had the distinct feeling he was waiting to see the money. I went to his office and knocked.

  “Mrs. Talbot¸ you’re here to pick up your vehicle.”

  “That’s right, Mr. Baker. Is she ready to roll?” I asked with a smile and sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

  “Is your husband with you?” he asked, looking past me.

  “Sadly no, he’s at work.”

  Mr. Baker looked relieved. “If you could sign the ownership, and pay the amount shown in the bottom box on the invoice, I can give you the keys.”

  I wrote a check and handed it to him.

  He smiled as he stared at the check then passed me the keys and the ownership. “I hope you enjoy your Hummer.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  As I aimed the big black beast down Hawthorne Lane, I could see a flatbed truck backed into my driveway. I parked at the curb and watched as a short stocky guy winched the charred frame of my Jeep onto a truck with ‘Andy’s Auto Wreckers’ in big white letters on the side door.

  I walked down the driveway as he finished up. “Hi. Are you Andy?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I am. Too bad what happened to your vehicle,” he said.

  “It is, but I’m happy to have the wreckage taken away. What do I owe you?”

  “Nothin’ at all. I owe George a favor—happy to take it for you.”

  Everybody owes George a favor.

  I waved as he jumped into his truck and drove up the street. I limped back to the curb and drove the Hummer up the driveway.

  Apex arrived at three-forty five to reprogram the security system. The house was secure now, but not the garage. At five, Vince was finished and as he pulled his van out of the driveway, a blue Mini-Cooper drove in with Lionel Bachus behind the wheel. He saw me on the porch and sauntered up the steps to talk to me.

  “Mrs. Talbot, I stopped by to tell you that we received a faxed copy of the police report and wrote the Jeep off. Your check will be mailed to you shortly.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate you dropping by in person,” I said. “Can you tell me what the police said about the bomb?”

  “They listed the explosive as possible pipe bomb with a remote detonator—most likely cell phone.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  After he left, I opened a Coke and went into the back yard with Angel. She emptied her water bowl, then stretched out on the patio stones to cool down. My cell phone rang. “Hey,” I answered.

  “Hey, yourself. Look, baby girl, I have stuff to do tonight. Won’t be there until late. You okay with that?”

  “I’ll be fine. Vince was here and the alarm’s working again. Angel will watch over me.”

  “That's my girl. Okay, call you later.”

  I finished my can of pop while I looked up Ivan’s Ink in the phone book. I still wanted to get my first tattoo. Ivan was polite, but informed me that the waiting list was long, and I was looking at November fourth before he could give me any time.
Disappointed, I booked it and hung up.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  “I’M coming,” I called in the direction of the front foyer. I tried to smooth my hair down but was sure I was going to scare the shit out of whoever was at the door. Glancing through the side light, I saw a good looking young man wearing a uniform, his finger pressing the bell. “Sorry, I’m not fully awake yet. What time is it anyway?”

  “It’s ten after nine, Miss. You wanted an estimate for a garage door?”

  “That’s right, I do. I was surprised you guys would come on a Sunday. Can you give me a minute?”

  “Sure. I’ll do the measuring out here and then we’ll talk when you’re ready.”

  “Great,” I said as I closed the door and limped into the powder room.

  George didn’t call. Something must have come up.

  After splashing water on my face and trying to tame my hair with just my bare hands—no weapon handy like a brush or a blow-torch, I started a pot of coffee then joined the garage door guy outside.

  “What happened to your door?” he asked when he saw me on the porch.

  “Bomb,” I said with a laugh.

  “You’re kiddin’, right?” He chuckled.

  “Nope, my car blew up in front of the garage and the door has the scars to prove it. “I’m Portia Talbot.” I held out my hand. “Eddie Nolan gave me your name.”

  “I’m Buddy Feldman. Nice to meet you. I’ve never run into a bombed out door before. Frame looks new. Did Eddie replace that?”

  I nodded. Buddy was looking pretty hot in his uniform. His dark curly hair matched his puppy-dog eyes and he had an electric smile.

  “Okay if I look around inside the garage? Need to check the rails and the motor. With the door gone, I have no idea if the mechanism still works.”

  I left Buddy in the garage, went into the kitchen and left the door open. Angel bounced into the garage and barked at Buddy.

  “What’s your Rottie’s name?” he asked.

  “Angel.”

  “Hey, Angel, come here, girl.” He rubbed her behind her ears, and she licked his hand. “I have one just like her, but he’s a male. Call him Turbo.”