by Kiki Leach
"He said all of that to you?" I questioned. He nodded. "Oh, well..." I gulped in remembering back to the last time I had seen Taz in person, better known to me since we were kids as Malcolm, dropping me off at the airport on the back of his bike and giving me a hug so tight around my waist with his hands pressed flat against the small of my back before his fingers lightly curled against my spine; our bodies practically molded into one as he exhaled against my skin, his cool breath creating tiny goosebumps all over, and mumbled something into the side of my throat that to this day, I have yet to know what it was. But I never forgot that hug or the way it made my body feel as soon as he let me go. "That's sweet of him..." I stopped to clear my throat. "And I thank our continued friendship for his conscience remaining somewhat intact regarding all of this. But I don't have any more time left because three-hundred-thousand dollars isn't just something I can dig up and hand over like you seemed to be able to do. And like I said, even if I do..."
He outstretched an arm across the table to reach out for me.
I held back in reciprocation and stood up from the bench.
He frowned. "Chey--"
"I need to head off to the club and talk to him about it face to face given that I've yet to see any of them in person since being back; a phone can only accomplish so much. Maybe I'll ask for an extension on the extension or something like it."
He nodded up at me while his expression remained defeated and tapped his fingers along the center of the table. "Seeing you might make a difference to Prez or something too."
"Sure. If anything changes, I'll come back tomorrow and let you know about it then."
He nodded again and drew his brows together while solemnly looking toward the door. "Do what you've gotta do with all this shit, Cheyenne."
"It's what I've always been known for without much choice."
Chapter Three
Like a Thief in the Night, Release Me, Sage Advice
Within a few hours of arriving to the mother charter of The Reckless Renegades MC located along the edge of Queens, I found an empty parking spot in front of the 'fix-it' shop adjacent to the clubhouse, yanked my keys from the ignition and pushed my sunglasses to the crown of my head.
While staring through the windshield at the flashing red sign sitting high above the front door, I realized it had been years since hearing compound gravel crunching beneath the wheels of my car, and even longer since seeing certain members of the club beyond facetime.
When I noticed someone moving around inside the building, I dropped my keys inside the front pocket of my jeans and hopped to my feet, slammed the door to my car and headed straight up the walkway. I rested my hand along the center of a steel black door and pushed it back with ease, then peeked my head inside and scanned the room (which in all these years, had yet to change from its black and white origin), only stopping when I noticed Taz standing tall behind the bar, shirtless beneath his patch heavy cut to show off his well-defined, tattoo covered six pack and jet-black coils of hair spread nicely across his chest while fixing himself a mixture of vodka and orange juice as always.
"Hey, stranger," I called out to him in a quiet voice as he placed the vodka bottle back down on top of the bar and took a sip of his drink.
When his dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners while meeting mine and his full, dark pink lips parted into a wide, sexy grin to show off his pure white teeth, I bit back my own smile to keep him from taking notice of just how enthralled I was to see him again, and rattled my head.
He nodded once and pointed. "You gonna come all the way in here or just stand there all day watching me like you did when we were kids?" I scoffed while continuing to hold back my smile and shook my head again. He eyed me from head to toe with a smirk, then lowered the glass from his mouth and jerked his chin. "Cheyenne--"
"I never watched you when we were kids or at any other time in my life," I shot back.
"You mean not before now?" A twinkle hit his eyes as he laughed to himself. His thick black brows arched high up on his forehead as it crinkled. "You watched me all the goddamn time. Always into that older man shit as far as I can remember."
"You were thirteen and I was nine -- that's not much of a stretch in between numbers."
"Or between us either?" The corner of his mouth arched into an even tighter smirk, revealing that famous deep dimple in the center of his right cheek. I remembered rolling my thumb across it once and the look of confusion growing in his eyes just before pulling back from me. "No need in lying about it anymore," he continued.
"There's nothing for me to lie about," I replied with hard emphasis on every word; he threw a hand over his chest and whistled while leaning back as if I had just struck him through the heart with a fire tipped arrow. "But I'm glad that your ego is getting a nice boost from whatever the hell it is you've managed to cook up inside your head after all these years."
"Doesn't take much to do." He snickered as I moved further inside, allowing the door to close behind me.
I shrugged. "Are you the only brother out here?"
"For right now, yeah, but..." A sheepish grin emerged behind the smirk as his attention shifted to a jukebox near the opposite end of the room.
"What is it?" I asked.
He removed his hand from his chest and motioned behind the bar. "There's some fresh pussy still waiting in the back for Prez. You remember Marleena?"
My mouth dropped. "That's the 'fresh pussy' you're referring to? She'd be more than likely rotten by this point, no?"
"Chey--"
"Sorry, that was rude." I stepped toward him while shaking off the sudden cringe that rolled from the back of my neck down the center of my spine and rested my hands on top of the bar. "I just haven't missed hearing something like that since being away and in reference to a woman that was once far too eager to keep me from leaving the club for school."
"She wasn't eager to keep you from leaving," he replied.
"No, she just didn't want to see me doing any better for myself away from this place. And I know that she's not the only one. Anyway, I'm done."
"With school?"
"This portion of the conversation, I still have another semester of school. Has Snake been here at all this morning?"
He eyed me with curiosity and shook his head. "He checked out after Joker's party last night to meet up with some motherfucker across town about expanding the garage outside of Queens but is supposed to be back in a few for church."
"Hm." I took a seat directly in front of him, then glanced over his shoulder and bobbed my head. "What did he tell 'Miss Thing' back there in order to keep her around until the morning?"
He dragged a hand across what looked to be a fresh fade and chortled. "That he'd be back for her soon."
"And how long ago was that?"
He peeked over at the clock sitting high on the wall near a mirror adjacent to their 'church' chapel and narrowed his eyes. "About ten goddamn hours ago."
"Well..." I gagged before turning back to him. "I hope that after all these years of finally getting him where she's always wanted, she's not expecting more than the little she got?"
"She might be expecting too goddamn much since ain't nobody that's been out here has tried putting her ass back out."
"Maybe you should think about doing it to spare her feelings since it's nearly a fact that he won't. And you're supposed to be the nice one of the two, remember? Isn't that part of the reason he made you VP to begin with?"
"Part of." He knit his brows and peered. "But whatever the fuck Prez does with the pussy out here ain't my place or business when it has nothing to do with the club, Chey; never has been."
"Even with that patch?"
"Even with it, unless he ever asks and he's yet to do that shit. You know it by now just like the other, or at least you should."
"Yeah, maybe."
He leaned into me while folding his hands and stared straight into my face, the warmth from his eyes and heat pouring from his flawless brown skin nearly
melting my entire body from the inside out. "Let's change the subject on this shit like you did the other."
"Okay."
He paused and lifted his chin, then rolled his tongue across his bottom lip and gulped. "You see your old man out there today?"
"I did."
"Is he still doing the same as he was before with all this shit? Better? Worse?"
"He's the same in being terrible with it. In general, he's still fine, at least for the most part physically, but--"
"Shit." He stood up and away from me, groaning while dragging his hand along the side of his face in frustration. "What the fuck did he do?"
"Nothing, at least not yet. Except he kind of, sort of... fucked up with something -- though it wasn't exactly his fault."
"What the fuck is it, Chey?"
I stopped to suck in a deep breath and gradually released it. "What do you know about a man named Nikko Girabaldi?"
He shrugged and dropped his hands. "His old man once worked for the club; bookkeeping and some other shit before investing in those casinos out there in Vegas."
"Okay. What else can you tell me about him?"
"The old man?"
"Nikko. Have you ever met him? Do you know what he's like as a person -- as a man?"
"No, Cheyenne." His brows crinkled as if I were asking him to recite the alphabet backwards; he bent his head and squint. "Why the fuck are you asking about this asshole like you're looking for a date with him or some shit?"
"There's no need for you to lose it on me by being hostile," I said.
"I ain't being 'hostile' about shit."
"You are. And I'm not exactly 'looking' for anything, I'm only curious about him."
"And I'm curious about you now too, Chey."
"Why?"
"Because I wanna know why the fuck this asshole is making you so goddamn interested all of a sudden?"
I slightly rolled my eyes while straightening myself in the chair. "Do you know that he's been locked up in Rikers?"
He shifted his jaw left to right and pinched his mouth to the side as if he was debating on whether to answer me this time, and with the truth. "I maybe heard some shit about him being down and out, but not the details surrounding why," he finally said. "And I didn't think to ask since the shit doesn't affect me or the club."
"Okay--"
"You tryna date him when he's out?"
"You keep asking me that and the answer is actually no, I'm not."
"Then what the fuck is your endgame? Why all the goddamn questions?"
"I could ask the same of you. But my only endgame is telling you to be aware of what my dad said regarding his father this morning."
"Which was what?"
"Asking him to look after Nikko with them both being inside now."
He soured. "And your old man agreed to that shit?"
"Yes."
He crinkled the bridge of his nose. "Why the fuck would Chino ask your old man to look after his kid?"
"Because he hoped Rox would keep him out of trouble for the time being. But after what happened on the courtyard today, that's no longer possible."
"What the fuck happened out there today, Cheyenne?"
"A hot mess," I blurted. "Nikko and another inmate killed three people while we were waiting and watching from inside the family room -- Three guards to be exact."
"Jesus goddamn Christ." Taz's head lowered as he wrapped his hands along the edge of the bar and closed his eyes; he exhaled and anxiously shook his head as his face hardened. "How the fuck did this shit come about?"
"Nikko's father has an enemy in a former business partner, Elias Clark, that set up retaliation against him with the plan of using those now dead guards to do his bidding."
"Retaliation against the old man by getting to his kid?"
"From what I was told. But Nikko found out which is the only reason I can gather him carelessly killing them in front of a room full of people who could see everything as it all went down."
"You saw that shit as it happened along with everybody else?" I nodded. "Jesus."
"But I'm fine--"
"Anybody else in the room say some shit about it?"
"Not a single word. Instead, they all went back to what could only be considered as normal once it was over, including the other guards. The inmates were dragged out as the fight was going down, and then brought back into us not long after Nikko and that other one were finally taken away."
"You know the other motherfucker that was with him?"
"Somebody named 'Dog' from what my dad had said."
"Christ."
"Does that name mean something to you?"
"It did..." He looked to the corner of his eyes and glowered. "Does Nikko's old man know about any of this shit just yet?"
"He hadn't by the time I left, I don't think, but who the hell knows by now." He lifted his eyes from mine and grit his teeth. "Malcolm." When he heard his real name for what seemed to be the first time in years, he turned back to me and took in a breath. "Rox is going to get the wrath for what happened out there, and I don't know what that entails."
"What do you mean?"
"Because Nikko was supposed to stay out of trouble, like I said. Even if this former business partner of his father's is the reason for what went down and why." I stopped to gulp, and exhaled. "Maybe if he had someone else go after them instead, there would've been a chance of my dad being spared by this person. But since he didn't--"
"I'll make a call to somebody who might be in the know with all this shit. If not them, maybe Eyes knows something."
"I guess... thanks."
He gradually bobbed his head while continuing to stare directly into my eyes. "Did your old man say anything about this shit landing on your head too?"
"He says that it won't, but I don't know any more considering he lied to me about how he got locked up in the first place." He swallowed hard enough for his Adam's apple to visibly bob inside his throat and sniffed. "Why the hell didn't you just tell me that you're the reason Rattlesnake didn't take him out on the spot for stealing from the club?"
"'Cause every time we talked, Prez was right there with me, Cheyenne; every goddamn time like a muthafuckin' chaperone. Which means he would've had my head and balls in a jar for saying a word about it since he wanted your old man personally put to ground for this shit."
"I know that, but--"
"300k ain't some kinda chump change, is it?" he interjected. "Especially not when a portion of that shit was meant to be used for the club itself, the remodeling and all that."
"God knows that this place is in dire need of it, but... Hey." I pinched my brows as he reached into his back pocket for one of his throw away cell phones and bent forward. "What are you doing?"
"What I told you in handling some shit." He flipped the cell open and began dialing an unrecognizable number on the keypad. I realized then that it wasn't in my best interest to ask any more questions and pressed my lips together. After lifting the phone to his ear, I could hear a sharp ringing sound blaring out from the other end before stopping. Seconds passed before he finally pulled it back and began dialing four more numbers as if it were code; then he slammed it shut and placed it back inside his pocket. "We'll see if anything turns up with that. But, Cheyenne..." He brought his eyes back to mine and lifted his shoulders. "You know Rattlesnake's affection for you is like his own daughter if he had one? That shit'll never measure up to what I've always felt for you, but--"
"And what is that?"
"Affection?" he questioned.
I lowered my eyes and grinned. "Yes, of course."
"You know what that shit means--"
"Not coming from you, I don't. Unless you've always viewed me as nothing more than just a little sister--"
"You're not my sister," he told me. "That ain't it--"
"Then what?" He clamped his teeth together and deeply exhaled. "What?" As he remained silent, I pushed myself forward and parted my lips. "That morning you dropped me off at the
airport, when I was leaving for college, you said something to me. What was it?"
A line appeared between his brows as he wagged his head. "I don't remember that shit."
"Yes, you do." He stared back into my eyes as his pupils expanded and loosened his jaw. I gnawed at my bottom lip as the fear of his answer rolled through my body like a stream of boiling water down the center of a clogged pipe. "You remember what you said to me -- what was it?"
"I told you that I don't."
"And I know that you do--"
"Chey..." He pushed himself away from the bar and turned his head as a nervous chuckle poured from between his lips, the sound of it vibrating high in the air between us. "I don't know that shit," he said in a low, gritty voice that made my knees wobble with delight. "I guess it was something like I hope you have fun out there or--"
"It wasn't that."
"Christ." When his eyes caught mine again, the whites of them darkened. "What the fuck do you want me to say about it?"
"I want you to say that..." I pushed myself up from the stool and leaned into him, close enough to smell the thin layer of sweat forming along the base of his throat, creating a light sheen across his skin, and taste the splash of vodka still fresh on his tongue. "I want you to tell me how you feel about me. The truth."
"Chey--"
"I want you to tell me that I'm not crazy and that after all these years, we could really be something good together -- maybe great --" He reached a hand around the back of my throat and jerked me to him before I could say another word. His lips parted and his nostrils flared again; more sweat formed along the corners of his nose and across the top of his eyebrows. "Do you want to just show me instead? Because I can take that too."
His eyes dipped below my throat; his jaw tightened. "What the fuck I've always felt can't be met with what you've always deserved from a man out here, Cheyenne; one not in a life like this. That shit has always been more than the VP of an MC."
"I don't care," I told him. "You've always been more than your patches, and this cut to me." His fingers curled into my skin as he exhaled. I winced at the firmness of his touch. "The club doesn't define who you are as a man, it never has."