A few months back, I had my future mapped out and there was no woman in it, or none I wanted around for more than a few hours. If I wanted a woman to talk to, there were my brothers’ old ladies. Kids? Well there were enough of those getting under my feet, and none of them mine. I had no yearning to take a woman and certainly none to start a family.
Could it have been that the blow to my head had not only given me a concussion but also screwed with my brain and changed what I want out of life? Or was it simpler, that having had the opportunity to achieve what I’d worked for so long taken away, I needed something else to look forward to? Was Swift a substitute for what I’d lost?
I don’t believe so but shouldn’t dismiss it.
If I’d ever thought of my ideal woman, it would have been someone who wasn’t afraid to speak her own mind. I didn’t want to be the one always leaned on, I wanted my perfect old lady to have more strength than that. Someone like Sam, Drummer’s woman, I suppose. Drummer might have grown men cowering before him, but she stands up for herself. There’s a lot to admire about Sam, and she can’t even hold a candle to Swift. If anything, I’d be the one running to keep up in this relationship.
And that, I don’t have a problem with. I’ve an inkling Swift would make me a better man. I’d always strive to be worthy of her. More than anything, though, I love to make her smile. Which reminds me, when I get a moment later, I need to call Beef, the Tucson member who transferred out and who’s now the Colorado VP. There’s that idea I want to discuss with him. Out of anyone, he should be able to help.
The cafeteria is busy by the time I get down to the first floor. Noticing Swift is encircled by concerned brothers wanting to check she’s okay after her ordeal, I keep my distance, though I do keep one eye on her. They’re all treating her as one of them. Had it been an old lady or club girl, then she’d have been hugged or coddled. But she’s being treated with respect, and no more touching than they’d allow for each other. A hearty backslap from Stormy that puts her off balance makes my temperature rise, but my ire’s quickly replaced by mirth as she quickly deals with that herself, having the asshole’s armed twisted up behind his back. If I’m not wrong, he’s currently begging for mercy.
I’m secretly smiling at how the woman who’s caught my attention needs no one to look after her, when Bolt comes up alongside me.
“Fuckin’ sorry, Brother,” he starts.
His words need no explanation, and I shrug off his apology. “Don’t sweat it, man. It couldn’t be helped. I was the idiot who rode on without waiting.”
“Still can’t believe she was there. Fuckin’ good job finding her. She really okay?” His eyes narrow.
While half of me wants to defend her and let everyone know she’s come through her ordeal unscathed, it’s not the whole truth. As brothers, we protect each other, and no one can help if they’re in the dark. “She’ll get there. Being taken like that brought home her vulnerability.”
Igor approaches me with a cup of coffee in his hand. He passes it over, and I give him a nod, then return my attention to my companion.
Bolt glances down at his hand which looks so real but is not. “This has become part of me, Road. If I were in danger and I didn’t have my right hand, well, I’d be worried as fuck. And, probably scared. There’s not much I can do with my stump.” His expression oozes sympathy. He glances quickly over to Swift. “She won’t want a big thing made of it.”
“Try having no legs.” Pip’s overheard and joined in the conversation. He jerks his head toward Bolt, who takes the hint.
“Want me to grab you a plate?”
“Thanks.” I raise my chin thankfully toward Bolt who goes off to join the short queue at the counter.
My brain’s focused on the delicious smells coming from the heaping serving bowls. This morning’s activities have made me hungry as fuck. It takes a few moments for words I just heard to filter through my head. Suddenly my eyes swing to Pip, glancing down at his legs encased in jeans.
“What the fuck, Pip? Who’s got no legs?” I glance around the room at the rest of the brothers but come up, pardon the pun, stumped.
He chuckles softly. “It’s the reason I don’t ride. I left both of mine in Iraq, back in the days of Desert Storm.”
I choke while swallowing my coffee. Pip slaps my back. Once I can speak again, I feel my brow crease. “So that’s the fuckin’ reason you don’t ride a bike?”
He raises his chin. “Sure is. Like Bolt, I’ve got the best prosthetics money can buy, but I don’t want to risk damaging them by giving riding a try. If I damaged them, not only would they be expensive to replace, but I’d be fuckin’ vulnerable.” His head turns slightly so his gaze lands on Swift before coming back to mine.
“You know how she feels,” I state, not needing it confirmed. Like her, Pip hides his disability well. Why should I have known he was a double amputee, except that it explains things, and why the MC is okay having a prez who doesn’t ride.
Pip’s eyes meet mine again. “I take my legs off at night but keep them close by. I’ve practiced getting them back on so I can do it in a blink of an eye. But like Bolt said, you feel you have a weakness when you haven’t got your own working parts. Maybe in normal life it’s different but given how we live, it’s a liability. Not being able to hear an alarm or intruder must be scary as fuck, just like if I was kidnapped without my legs and unable to escape. You know if she managed to get any rest last night?”
That final slipped in question was a loaded one. I’ve got a feeling Pip doesn’t miss much. That Swift’s bright and breezy and clearly well rested won’t have escaped his attention. He also understands how she probably wouldn’t be that way had she been left all alone. I could deny it, but I’m already hiding shit from Drummer. If I’m moving to Utah, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with my new prez.
“I stayed in her room so she felt safe,” I admit.
A smirk comes and goes, and this time the slap to my back isn’t to stop me from choking. “Appreciate that, Brother. What you and Swift do is your personal business, and I’m not going to mention anything about her in church. Not unless she thinks we need to know how vulnerable being kidnapped made her feel. But I’m glad you’re looking out for her. Anyone who’s gone through what she has needs support. Me and Bolt know that better than any of the others.”
“I had an idea, Pip.” It’s his clubhouse and will be his decision whether I can bring any changes to it. “I don’t know whether it would work, and probably need your permission to look further into it.”
I take a moment to explain what my idea is. Listening, his eyes widen and for the third time the palm of his hand meets the leather on my back. “That’s fuckin’ great, Brother. Let me know if you need help sorting it out. And I’ll make sure there are no objections from anyone.”
“I need to check shit out first,” I warn him. “Keep it quiet until I know it’s even possible.”
As he nods and turns away, Bolt returns and places a plate loaded with every breakfast item imaginable into my hands. My stomach growls in appreciation, and I pull out a seat at a table and start tucking in.
“So you’re the fuckin’ hero of the hour.”
Someone slams a plate on the table, sits down opposite without permission and proceeds to glare at me. Ignoring Stormy, I lift my fork and start shovelling food into my mouth, musing that Cowboy really does know his shit.
“Nothing to say?”
Starting to feel replete, I swallow and raise my narrowed eyes. “What is your problem, Stormy?”
“You got yourself caught.”
Yeah. I should have been more cautious. I don’t have any excuse. Shouldn’t have gone in on my own. Should have waited with Bolt for backup before proceeding. Should have, could have and a whole lot of ifs. Apart from the bullet graze on my arm, and the nice bruise on my chest, in retrospect it all worked out. Swift might have suffered more had I not arrived when I had. I don’t explain that to the man staring daggers
at me.
As the silence stretches on, Stormy’s expression changes and he gives what for him passes for a grin. It seems he appreciated me not defending my actions. “Though from what Swift says, you weren’t entirely helpless. That stiletto in your sole is an idea I think we should copy.”
I give credit where it’s due. “That’s thanks to Blade, the enforcer in Tucson. He’s besotted with knives.”
“Next time, take one of these with you.” Stormy places a gadget on the table. Curious, I pick it up, finding it sits comfortably in the palm of my hand.
“What is it?”
“Drone.” He takes it back and shows me how to open it up.
I hadn’t realised they came this small. It would be easy to take in my saddlebags, if not in a pocket at a stretch. “What size is the controller?” I ask him.
“You can install the app on your phone. If you’re interested, I’ll show you how it works.”
I am. If I’d been able to view the surroundings, I’d have seen people were patrolling the grounds, or that they had cameras set up. There could have been something that would have warned me. I start to thank Stormy, full of surprise he’d given me one of his toys, but he waves aside anything I was going to say, and instead, distaste covers his face.
“Oh fuck, got to go waste time chewing the fat again.” Stormy glowers as people around us are moving. “Fuckin’ hate all these meetings.”
“You don’t like church?” I ask, as he’s being his version of friendly.
“I don’t like people,” he responds succinctly, and then stands. “And I don’t trust anyone either.”
As I hastily finish off the last piece of bacon, I stare after the man who’s just left me. The chip on his shoulder is a mile wide, and there must be a story of what happened to put it there. Such dislike and distrust don’t come naturally, or not in my experience. Could he have been born that way? Not likely.
Drummer had sent me to Utah as my accident had taken all my patience away. I’d been angry at everyone, even though they hadn’t done anything. Stormy’s me to the extreme. What had happened to him? Pip called him back to the club and stripped him of his nomad status because he’d all but gone rogue, but Stormy’s actions had been fuelled by his distrust, his return to the club hadn’t caused them.
Having realised how insightful the Utah prez is, I wonder now whether there was more to Stormy’s recall, and that by forcing him back into the fold, there was perhaps a route for his redemption.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I take my dirty plate and place it with the others, noticing Brute is on kitchen duty clearing stuff away, then, following the example of the others walk along the hallway and enter church.
Pip, Snatcher, Thor and Preacher are already seated. Swift’s taking her chair. Seeing me entering, she kicks out the one beside her. Sitting, I simply raise my chin to thank her, while breathing in deeply through my nose, finding her scent intoxicating, immediately pulling my seat in closer to the table so I don’t betray myself.
The room fills up fairly fast, and as previously, I notice the jokes and conversations I’d expect in Tucson are missing. But today I don’t mind, now better understanding the vibe here. Rather than updates about the money the strip club and tattoo parlour are bringing in, a meeting like this could be a matter of life or death. From my discussions with Grinch and Goofy, meetings I’m more used to happen as well, with the additional three members present. That’s when matters like dues and pay packets are discussed.
Pip bangs the gavel once everyone’s taken a seat. His stare focuses on Swift. “Fuckin’ glad to have you back, Swift.”
She raises her chin but follows it up with the words, “Fuckin’ glad to be here, Prez.” A murmur of lighthearted laughter goes around.
“Debrief. We’ve yet to hear your side.” Pip’s eyes are still levelled on her.
I almost feel the deep intake of breath by my side. “They must have cut the electric.” She shudders. “I hadn’t a clue anyone was there. First thing I knew was someone putting a chloroform drenched rag over my face. Woke up chained in that basement.”
Honor points across the table at her. “They disabled your backup generator first. I’m looking into alert systems running on lithium batteries.” He brushes a hand over his head. “We looked at fail safes for normal occurrences, not for you being deliberately targeted.”
Pip makes a gesture that gets our attention. “Kincaid admitted he’d been watching me and the club. He focused on Swift as she was the only woman he saw going in and out of this building. Seems he learned a lot in the pen, like being careful and not moving without knowing exactly what was going on. McGregor, apparently, had studied electrical engineering inside.” He pauses, then remarks with disgust, “Fuck knows why we teach them such skills. Anyway, he checked out your house and noticed your security system, Swift, and the generator as well. Disabled that, then cut the electricity. Somehow got inside and left a bug and camera there. But seeing no one visited you, he hadn’t known you were deaf. That was a bonus according to him.” Pip’s eyes narrow. “He enjoyed fuckin’ with your mind.”
“He still alive?” Swift asks, her own eyes becoming slits.
“Nah. But he suffered before I ended him.” It’s Pip’s delivery rather than the actual words that make me believe death had probably come as a welcome release for Kincaid.
“Any loose ends?” Swift asks.
“We sorted it,” Thor tells her. “Bodies taking to the crematorium, a few dollars passed over and they’ll be gone by now. Honor supervised the cleanup. If anyone comes looking or the owner of the Airbnb checks in, they’ll find nothing amiss.”
I suppose Honor being an ex-cop should know how to hide shit from forensic experts. I wonder what happened to make both him and Duty turn their backs on a career in law enforcement. Seems I’m becoming interested in more than one backstory of the members who, if everything works out, will be my brothers.
“We could have a problem. The Airbnb was rented by a woman.” Snatcher looks around, knowing his words will be unwelcome. “The agent thought a couple was staying.”
“That’s what the fisherman told me,” I interrupt. “Though he hadn’t seen the woman around.”
“So there could still be someone out there?”
Pip’s eyes gentle when they land on Swift. “That’s what we need to find out. I want you staying in the clubhouse until we find out if this woman exists, who she is, and whether she’s got resources behind her to carry this fight on.”
“Or,” Swift sits up straighter and looks straight toward Pip, “I act as bait to draw her out.”
My gut screams I want her to keep her head down, to let others take on this fight. My mouth opens and shuts as I realise were Swift any other woman, I’d be telling her to let me protect her and keep her safe.
But she’s Swift. She’s going to run headfirst into danger if that’s what the job calls for. She’s not going to hide. The only decision I’ve got to make is whether I’m man enough to accept it.
“Okay. Let’s get going. I need Kincaid’s past gone through with a fine-tooth comb. Any girlfriends, ex-wives, fuck, any female he could be associated with. We need to know whether this is ended, or whether we’ve still got a fight on our hands.” Pip moves his expression to the man seated opposite me, “Oh, and Bolt, get yourself a new set of tyres. Mystic said there was barely any fuckin’ tread left.” That Bolt should have checked his bike first goes unsaid.
Bolt’s sheepish eyes meet mine, showing he hadn’t needed the verbal dressing down.
“I should have checked everything. Sorry, Prez, but we headed out so quickly.” Piston, the road captain looks contrite.
“Man should have checked his own fuckin’ ride.” Stormy doesn’t hold back.
Now Bolt looks like he wants to slide under the table and disappear from sight.
“Prez?” Again it’s Piston who speaks. “I’m getting involved in so much other shit nowadays, I don’t always have time to keep my e
yes on the rides. I’m not sure I was ever the right man for the job. If we can convince Road to transfer, he’d be ideal.”
Pip looks at him carefully. “You’d be alright with that?”
Piston shrugs. “Would take a load off of me.”
I wonder whether I’m being set up, but if I am, it means I haven’t fucked up, and they’re making a place for me in the Utah club. More than that, they’re dangling an attractive carrot in front of me. Road captain? Okay, so not quite up there with the officers at the head of the table, but a responsibility and a title I hadn’t dreamed of. “Not sure I’d be the right person, P… Pip.” I’d almost called him Prez, but for now, for me, Drummer’s still that. “I’m also not certain I’ll be able to transfer to Utah.”
“No?” Pip raises an eyebrow.
I want to look at Swift, wanting her opinion and needing to know if me agreeing to move and taking an official position, is her idea of taking things slowly and seeing how things naturally progress between us, but I don’t want to draw attention to there being anything particular between us. Guess I’m on my own with this one.
Pip grins, he’s, of course, noticed the position he’s put me in. “You know bikes? You’ve got a head on your shoulders? I reckon Piston’s right, you’d do it well for us. In my view, you’re right for this chapter, and I suspect it would be a good move for you.”
“You’re asking me to make the decision now?” I don’t relish being put on the spot, but it’s warming to know he, at least, wants me. I frown. “I’ll need to make things square with Drummer, and it’s still up in the air as to how I do that.”
Pip stares and actually grimaces, knowing that were I to accept, I’ll need to lie and continue the cover-up. He gives me a chin lift acknowledging the uncomfortable spot that I’m in. “No reason we can’t take a hypothetical vote, just so Road knows what lies ahead. Saying he transfers, who’d vote on offering him the position of road captain?”
“About fuckin’ time we had someone to focus on us riding safe,” Preacher observes. “No disrespect, Piston, but you get easily distracted now you’ve discovered your IT skills.”
Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1 Page 32
