He’d cut the motor and climbed to the front of the boat, stiff-armed the post on the dock’s corner to bleed off additional velocity, and then looped his rope around the next post, tying the front of the boat to the dock. He was clambering towards the back when he heard footsteps on the dock, echoing sounds of leather a shock in the quiet darkness. Flipping to his back in the bottom of the boat, he ignored the chill of water seeping into his jeans and yanked his gun from its holster under his arm, pointing it towards the outline advancing towards him. His finger was already squeezing down on the trigger when he recognized his visitor.
“Twisted, what the fuck you doin’ out here?” Sagging in relief, he laughed harshly. “Got my fuckin’ pants wet, motherfucker.”
“You done out here?” Twisted slapped at a mosquito, and Po’Boy became aware of them. A constant on the shores, the wind of the boat kept them at bay while you were moving. “Fuckin’ skeeters been eatin’ me alive.”
“Yeah, I’m done.” He turned off the fuel to the engine, and then palmed the boat’s key, shoving it into his pocket as he climbed out of the boat and onto the dock. His vest was still in his truck, locked up, and those keys were in a box nailed to a nearby tree, a lesson learned long ago. Sucked to get back to dry land only to find you’d dropped your car keys somewhere out there in the lake. Retrieving his keys, he glanced around, reseating his gun into the holster. “Where’s your ride, man?”
“Got a drop-off. Wanted to hitch back with you.” Po’Boy shook his head and turned to see Twisted’s teeth flashing in a grin. “Didn’t know your keys was in there, or I’d have been sitting in comfort, at least.”
They climbed into the cab of the truck in silence, Twisted not saying a word while Po’Boy got the engine cranked. With the air conditioning going at full blast, Po’Boy sat for a moment, letting the cool air blow across his sweaty skin. Still quiet, Twisted pushed back in the seat, propped a boot heel against the dashboard, and leaned one elbow on his lifted knee. He seemed content to sit for however long it took Po’Boy to ask why he was there, something Po’Boy was trying not to do.
Fuckin’ Wrench, he thought, reaching over to twist the volume knob on the radio. Scanning up and down the frequency got him nothing but static, which he already knew he’d find, was just looking for something to occupy his hands.
He pushed in the clutch and bumped the gearshift into reverse, turning to look over his shoulder as he backed up. With his attention so engaged, it made it safer to ask what he wanted to know. “The fuck you doin’ here, man?” Facing front, he steered the truck around the worst of the potholes in the dirt road leading back to the local highway. They were rocking through the ditch and up onto the pavement before Twisted answered.
“You cut out of the party you helped Penny plan awful early. Vid showed you at the CH, brother. You and someone who’s not a brother. Wanted to make sure everything was chill.” Twisted’s voice was quiet, smooth, a tone Po’Boy recognized was normally reserved for talking to combatants Twisted was still trying to sort out. “That’s all.”
“How’d you know I’d be here?” Turning the wheel towards the nearest crossroad which offered a route to the interstate, Po’Boy decided to take the direct path, instead of the circuitous one he would normally follow. “I didn’t leave a fuckin’ callin’ card, did I?”
“Naw. Shit was spick and span; nothing less than I’d expect. I got a gander at what you loaded up, figured you’d need to do a drop-off tonight. Saw you in the drive at the house this morning. Woulda invited you in for breakfast with Penny and me, but you dumped Wrench and then peeled outta there.” Twisted shifted, reaching for the air vent and angling the vanes so the air blew more directly on his face. “He likes cheese on his eggs.”
“The fuck would I care about what he likes on his eggs, asshole?” It felt as if Po’Boy’s chest had frozen, his heart stuttering to a stop at what Twisted might be implying. “His ride was there. That’s all.”
“How’d he wind up with you at the CH, brother?” Po’Boy didn’t look, but he felt the weight of Twisted’s gaze on him. He knew if he did turn, the glare would be filled with disgust and betrayal. He was asking all the right questions, but Po’Boy wasn’t ready to answer them yet. “He was torqued over when he got to the house. Y’all cool?”
“Yeah, we’re cool. Had a bump in the road last night. Was headed to your place to clue you in after I finished up with cleanup on the water.” Po’Boy stomped on the gas a little hard taking off from the next intersection, and the tires barked as they spun and then caught traction. “He was in a position to assist last night, that’s all.”
“Nothing else?”
Fucking hell. Chin angled towards the side window, Po’Boy shook his head. “Nothing.” He pulled in a hard breath, then as was his norm, went on the attack. “You even fuckin’ want to know what happened? Or you just tied up in your pussy’s friend leavin’ the party early? Huh? You wanna know what I did, motherfucker?” He didn’t pause, didn’t give Twisted time to respond. “I was savin’ your ass yet a-fuckin-gain, that’s what I was doin’. You heard VWMC was on the move again. At least I hope you heard that, or maybe your head was so far up your own ass you didn’t hear shit about it. Looks like Deuces dropped a couple hundred on patches and started slappin’ ‘em on anyone with a ride and the balls to wear a vest. Balls or stupidity, that’s up for debate. Whatever it was, he’s partnering with someone big. Had two reformed VWMC at your goddamned birthday party last night, and I fuckin’ took care of it. Like I always do. Took ‘em to the CH, chatted ‘em up, and found out what the motherfuckers knew. Which wasn’t a fuck of a lot, I’ll tell you what. They were dumber than a box ‘o rocks, but between Wrench and me, we got a story outta ‘em.”
“What story?” Twisted broke in, and Po’Boy chanced a glance his direction to find a laser stare aimed his way.
“Story of how they’re partnering with a group. A big group with a fuckin’ lot of leverage. The only name they know, the only thing they heard Deuces drop, was Diego. I ain’t heard of anyone flyin’ that name on our patch of grass, but just ‘cause I ain’t heard it don’t mean he wasn’t zoomin’ through. Wrench hadn’t heard shit, either, so it ain’t just me in the wind on this one.” On the highway now, he settled into the center lane, letting faster traffic roll past on the left, and passing slower traffic traveling in the right-hand lane. “I got some diggin’ to do. Hey, you want me to drop you at home, or at the CH?”
“Home.” Twisted’s response was quiet, and when Po’Boy glanced his direction this time, he was staring out the window on his side of the truck. “What do you think it means, brother?”
“Not a fuckin’ clue.” Po’Boy finished passing a semi, then maneuvered into the right lane, waiting for the exit that would put them off the interstate near Twisted’s house. They were both silent the rest of the drive, and when Po’Boy pulled into the driveway, he was not surprised at the invitation offered.
“Come in, have a beer. Penny’s probably still out. She had shit to do in town.” Po’Boy was already shaking his head before Twisted stopped speaking.
“Cain’t. Need to get my ass home and fall into bed. I done been up for more than two days, brother.”
“Fuck, I shoulda drove home then. Shoulda said something, Po’Boy.” Twisted stood in the open truck door, hand on the frame and one on the edge of the door. “Come in and sleep here. We can talk more when you get up.”
“Rather hit my own bed, man. No offense.” Even as the phrase rolled off his tongue, he knew the half-assed apology was useless. Before Penny, it was a given he’d stay here as often as he was in his tiny apartment, more often, if he were being real. Before Penny, it was seldom anyone saw one of them without the other close, and the silence in the truck this afternoon would have been comfortable, not filled with tension. Before Penny, he would have never given up a chance to spend more time with Twisted. Now, even looking at his friend and brother as he stood there, what Po’Boy wanted to see was different.
Scruffy instead of bearded, sharp cheekbones set under brilliant hazel eyes instead of the dark brown ones. Wrench, instead of Twisted. “You done, man? I’m wiped.” He shoved the gearshift into reverse and made it plain he was waiting on Twisted to close the door.
With narrowed eyes, Twisted stared at him for a moment longer, then stepped back and quietly shut the truck door. Po’Boy backed out of the driveway and then drove off, not giving himself permission to look back, afraid he’d see his brother standing in the driveway, busily puzzling out the secrets Po’Boy was still holding close to his chest.
***
Wrench
Gaze locked on the figure sauntering down the sidewalk, Wrench reminded himself why this was a bad idea. If Po’Boy sees me, after the way he freaked over an address on a piece of paper, he’s going to come un-fucking-hinged.
He’d stayed at Penny and Twisted’s house for a couple of hours before heading home. Exhausted, he’d expected to fall into his bed and sleep for a day at least, instead finding himself dealing with Pony, and then tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position on the mattress or within his own head.
Wrench had learned early on that girls and women liked him. And he liked everything about a woman. Their soft curves, the ample pillows of their breasts, and how their cushioned thighs cradled him while he fucked their hot pussy. Liked it in a way no one would ever mistake since he’d always been happy with what he found. Didn’t always get what he wanted. That was a sad fact of life, because if he’d had his way, he and Penny would have been together years ago. Cockblocked by her uncle, that action starting when they were barely teens, and carrying on until after Bagger got diagnosed with cancer.
Wrench had been out of town for a few months, and her uncle had called him, brought him up to speed because they had to line out succession plans for the club. Bagger’s last words to Wrench had been as memorable as everything else the man had ever said. “Ain’t no mistakin’ me, Ty. You hear me, and open your fuckin’ ears, because you needa hear me good. Penny ain’t for you. She’s gonna need comfortin’, but that’s all you do. She’s my china doll, and she ain’t for you. She needs careful handlin’ from a man who’s gonna have nothing but her in his head. Ain’t for you.”
Bagger hadn’t died from cancer. He’d been gunned down sitting outside a store down by the VA in Alexandria, an old grudge coming home to roost. Hadn’t mattered, because like Bagger had known would happen, Penny needed comforting. And that was exactly the limits of what Wrench had allowed himself, because in his gut he’d always known Bagger was right. Penny needed more, needed someone who hadn’t tied their string to a club, who was guaranteed a longer lifespan and more stability. She needed a good man, one who hadn’t done the kind of shit Wrench had.
In the darkness of his bedroom, he’d lifted his hands, studying them in the light filtering through the curtains. Had muttered, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice, “Bagger was right. These hands never had a right to her.”
Unrequited love was a bitch.
That was how he’d recognized it in Po’Boy. Seen himself in the man’s face, spotted a match to his own pain and agony over seeing the one person he’d ever loved become consumed with someone. In his case, it was being a captive spectator to Penny falling in love with Twisted. She’d already been halfway there by the time the man had knocked on her truck’s door at a truck stop. Wrench and Twisted had gone at each other on sight, knowing instinctively they were battling for the woman. Twisted had been preoccupied, proven by his covetous nature after having only spent a single night with her. She was the same person, only more, because Twisted was her soul mate, finally paired with her in life.
For Po’Boy though, his trial had been watching Twisted change because of his love for Penny. Not becoming less, but instead becoming more. More of a leader, more of a strategist, more of a friend and brother. Penny brought out the best in the man and seeing Po’Boy track that was hard. Then noting how the man reacted to his first introduction to Penny, the first time he’d seen the competition in the flesh, there’d been no mistaking things.
Oh, yeah. Unrequited love was a huge bitch.
No way anyone understood or saw what he had, though. No fucking way, he thought now, as he trailed the man up the sidewalk and towards a nearby bar. They’d be up in arms, and Po’Boy’d be out on his ass in less time than you could say words to call him to the floor during church. It’d be only a heartbeat later he’d be takin’ his beatout, and then he’d be out bad. The worst thing that could happen to a true brother, someone who loved the club and brotherhood like Po’Boy did.
Out bad meant other clubs wouldn’t entertain the idea of patching you. Out bad meant everyone would know whatever had happened, it was the worst of the worst. Betrayal not quite enough for death. Being shunned and running lone. Fuck. Even if what he suspected was true, he’d never say a word. Never breathe anything to bring question to Po’Boy. Be a fuckin’ hypocrite if I did.
Wrench had been staking out the address for most of a day, about to give up and try to find a different route to figure out what was going on when he’d heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle exhaust. He’d watched Po’Boy drive into the courtyard of the building, sitting on his bike for a minute while the gates opened, then he rode the bike into the darkness of the parking area. Thirty minutes had passed before Po’Boy stalked out the main doors, and Wrench nearly hadn’t recognized him. Po’Boy wasn’t wearing his cut, and when Wrench tried to figure out what else was different about him he was stymied, it was as if Po’Boy even moved differently.
Po’Boy paused to check his phone, leaving Wrench to duck into the recessed door of a storefront, where he angled his head around the corner to keep an eye on him. Po’Boy had always been a big man, imposing, but over the past year, he’d lost some of his mass. Wrench studied how the streetlights cast shadows across his face, accenting the angular planes of his cheekbones and forehead. He sucked in a breath when Po’Boy smiled, the expression changing the shadowing in a way that was attractive, and nearly erotic. Then he watched as the smile turned so sly he nearly forgot to blow the air back out. Po’Boy had stopped walking directly in front of a bar, and with a yank on the handle, he was gone, the door settling back into place behind him, shutting him in and closing Wrench out.
What was different? Wrench replayed everything he’d seen, small as it was, and finally thought he’d put his finger on it. The clue was in that smile. As sly and roguish as it was, the look on Po’Boy’s face had been…playful. Wicked yet mischievous. Out of character for what he knew of Po’Boy. There’d been an ease to his movements, too, like he was relaxed. Maybe for the first time Wrench had ever seen him, which would be why it looked so odd on the man.
Nondescript building, ordinary upscale bar with an unremarkable name. Very different Po’Boy.
Standing with his thumbs hooked into his front pockets, Wrench waited for a few minutes, growing more restless with each passing second. No Po’Boy tumbling back out of this place where a wild man like him normally wouldn’t belong. Not a lot of foot traffic in or out, and when the door did open, there wasn’t a blare of raucous music. Fuck it. I just wanna see what’s going on.
In front of the door, he paused, suddenly unsure of his actions, the decision taken out of his hands when it shoved open, and he sidestepped to avoid two men walking out, arm in arm. Oh, fuck. Slipping through the opening, he sidled along the wall for a moment until he came to a clear place where he could stand and survey the crowd. Quiet murmurs of conversation, clinking ice and glasses, quiet music playing through the speakers. It only took a second for his eyes to land on Po’Boy, seated on the only occupied stool at the bar. Fortunately, his face was angled down to check his phone, and by the time Po’Boy looked up, Wrench was in tune, tipping his head to the side. He kept his eye on Po’Boy through a mirror strategically placed across the bar, and as soon as the man looked back down at his phone, Wrench turned to stare at him again.
A waitre
ss strolled past and asked the expected questions. Wrench absently ordered a draft, anything cold and wet to keep his hands busy. He felt out of place here, having placed his back to the wall and protected his cut, but just wearing the vest felt like it was shining a spotlight on him. This was not a biker bar, more of a neighborhood gathering place. Friends and coworkers might come here after work. Not a place Wrench felt comfortable, and not a place he would have ever expected Po’Boy to seek out.
A woman came through the door to Wrench’s left, fingers twined with the ones of the man following her. From the corner of his eye, Wrench saw her smile, and then she turned her head to speak to her companion, saying, “There he is. Lewis is already at the bar.” The fuck?
Sure enough, the couple went directly to where Po’Boy sat, and the look on his face when he saw her was open, welcoming, and heated. The corners of his lips quirked up, the middle of his full bottom lip bowed down, and he smiled knowingly at her. It looked as if she introduced him to her companion, and then—fucking hell—the trio turned towards the door. There was no physical way Po’Boy could miss him standing there, not ten feet from the exit. Wrench immediately cocked his head to the side as if the waitress standing near his elbow again had suddenly become engrossing, angling his shoulder so his nameplate was hidden in the wrinkles of the leather, and waited for the explosion.
He’d silently counted to twenty before the air cylinder finally made a sighing sound as it allowed the door to settle back into place gently.
***
Po’Boy
Fucking hell.
He couldn’t go back inside to be certain, not without bringing attention to himself, and if he hadn’t been seen, then bringing that attention could be the ending of him.
Shoulda figured Wrench wouldn’t give it up.
After his meltdown over the VW members having this address, something Wrench couldn’t help but notice, it shouldn’t have been a surprise the man pursued what it meant. Thank God the bastard had been chatting up the fucking waitress as he walked out the door. Po’Boy had steered Denise and the guy she’d brought at his request down the street and Po’Boy hustled all of them into the side door of the building. Even then he didn’t take a free breath until they were off the elevator and into the suite.
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 35
