Vice

by Elana Johnson

  “We don’t care if you operate by our motto, mission statement, or message. You have your club, and you can run it how you want…out of Williamsburg.” Mav settled his weight on his back foot and nodded as if to say, That’s the end of it.

  But by the dangerous look on Fire’s face, it most definitely was not the end of it. But he lifted one arm up, his fingers in a fist, and the five of them retreated to their motorcycles.

  Vice didn’t move while they strapped on their helmets, those that had worn them, and fired up their bikes. The engine roars filled the sky, and all five of them revved the motors up until they were snarling through the sky.

  Vice couldn’t hear anything, and he wanted to clap his hands over his ears so he wouldn’t get permanent damage, but he remained stoic and still. They finally took off, spitting gravel behind them as they spun in an arc and headed east, back the way they’d come.

  No one in the Sentinels moved until the noise from the motorcycles died, and then Vice turned toward Mav. “They’re not just going to lay down on this.”

  “I know.”

  A wolf howled, and the hair on the back of Vice’s neck stood up. “That’s not an animal,” he said.

  “Fly,” Mav called, and Vice dropped the folder with the single sheet of paper as he ran for his motorcycle. He didn’t care that his ribs protested. He didn’t care that his lungs screamed at him to slow down and breathe.

  He couldn’t.

  Something bad was about to happen.

  He flung his leg over his bike at the same time he fired it up. He got it moving, the third one out of the lot behind Bomber and House, and he started counting. One, two, three, four….

  Behind him, a wave of heat and light and sound filled the sky as a bomb went off. He was already moving away from the blast zone, but his motorcycle fishtailed.

  “Mav!” he yelled over his shoulder, because his mentor and friend wasn’t in front of him. But he couldn’t see anything behind him. Everything was either too bright or too dark. He wasn’t well enough to drive with one hand, so he couldn’t call emergency services.

  So he just rode, and he rode for his life, because right now, it felt like his life depended on getting as far from that parking lot as possible.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Felicia woke without a text from Jordan. She sat on the edge of her bed, flipping her phone over and over in her hand. Jordan had promised he’d text, no matter the hour. And yet, he hadn’t.

  She didn’t want to seem needy or afraid, but she felt both things twining together inside her stomach, sickening her. She tapped the call button and pulled up Jordan’s number. He didn’t normally get up as early as her, especially the morning after one of his nightly club meetings.

  “It was more than a club meeting,” she muttered to herself, and that was the clincher that got her to call him. His phone rang several times and then went to voicemail. That didn’t settle the nervous energy in her gut. Not one little bit.

  She didn’t leave a message. After hanging up, she stood, glancing around her bedroom, wishing the message that her boyfriend was okay was written on the walls. Of course, it wasn’t. Why hadn’t he texted like they’d agreed?

  Would she have to live the rest of her life with this level of unrest every time he went to a church meeting for his club? Felicia didn’t know all the ins and outs to a motorcycle club, but she knew the wives didn’t always know what was going on. She knew club members could claim an old lady, and then they could participate in the fringes of the club. She wondered if Maverick’s wife did that, or if she just enjoyed the luxury apartment on the second floor above the full-time mechanic shop and part-time clubhouse.

  Felicia pressed her fingertips together, trying to get both sides of her brain aligned. She’d done meditation for years, with conceptualizing and manifestations, but she couldn’t just make a text from Jordan appear.

  Still, she closed her eyes and said, “Please let him be okay.” She’d given up most forms of organized religion in her teens, because no matter how much she’d prayed then, her mom still brought home rotten men.

  “I need him to be okay.” She looked up to the ceiling. “Okay, God? Please.” She closed her eyes and tried to figure out what to do.

  She decided to call him again, and this time, he answered with, “Felicia, I’m so sorry I didn’t text you last night.”

  “Jordan.” His name spilled out of her mouth in a rush of air. “You’re alive.”

  “I’m at the hospital, and it’s been crazy, and I kept meaning to text you, and then something would happen.”

  He was talking so fast, and none of it made sense. “The hospital?”

  “Bomber got hurt,” he said, his voice choked. “And he has a wife and two kids, and I’ve been here with them, and I just…I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

  “I’m on my way,” she said.

  “You don’t—”

  “I’m coming,” she said over him. She could hear his voice, especially the level of worry and regret in it, but she wanted to see him for herself. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” She hung up and skipped showering. She skipped walking on the treadmill. Skipped it all. She simply pulled on the nearest clothes and stuffed her feet into a pair of shoes that would protect her toes from frostbite.

  Only eighteen minutes later, she walked into the hospital, realizing she had no idea where to go. And she didn’t need to, because Jordan jumped up from the waiting area on her left, and she flew into his arms.

  “You’re okay,” she said, finally getting a decent breath. He felt solid in her arms, and she breathed in the normally woodsy scent of him. But he smelled like…ashes. Fire. And antiseptic.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “We said no,” he said miserably. “They rode off, and it was too good to be true. They obviously had guys concealed in the woods, and they bombed us.”

  “Bombed?” Felicia couldn’t even imagine that. Sure, she’d seen it in movies, but those kinds of things didn’t happen to normal people, and certainly not in Forbidden Lake, Michigan. Only the twelve thousand people who lived there even knew where Forbidden Lake was. The tourists that came in the spring and summer came because Forbidden Lake and the cherry orchards often landed on the Top Ten lists for off-the-beaten-path places to visit.

  She stepped away from Jordan and searched his face, willing him to explain.

  “Most of us got away,” Jordan said. “I was third in line. Mav’s bike spun out of control, and he has a little road rash, but that’s it. Ian was in the back—the last one to leave the site, and his bike flipped end over end from the blast.”

  “Oh, my word.” Felicia covered her mouth with her hand. “He’s alive?”

  “Yes.” Jordan nodded, and he looked exhausted and unhappy. How he could stay in this club that made him feel this way, she wasn’t sure.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “Mav’s been pulling strings from his hospital bed,” Jordan said. “I’m going down to Sunshine this afternoon to meet with another club.”

  “The Rough Riders,” she said.

  Jordan searched her face, and she wasn’t sure if he looked happy that she knew the name of the other motorcycle club or not. “How did you know that?”

  “You were talking about them with Tyson,” she said. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Leesh,” he said, and she knew he’d never let her go meet with another club. Truth be told, she didn’t really want to.

  “Will you at least teach me how to ride a motorcycle with you?” she asked, stepping back into his arms and pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’ve seen women do that. Ride with their boyfriends.”

  He clung to her, and she was glad she could be his rock, even if it wasn’t really true. She’d come to hospital for her, not for him. Maybe both. But definitely because she needed to see him.

  “We can ride together,” he whispered. “But you are not coming to the club here, or the one in Sunshine.”


  “Okay,” she said. “When are you going?”

  “Three,” he said. “I’ll be back by eight, and I’ll do the dents and dings tonight.”

  Felicia tipped her head back and looked into his eyes. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He touched his lips to hers, sealing the promise with a kiss. Felicia hoped he could keep it, and she sent up another prayer just so God would know what she wanted. Maybe if He knew, she’d have a better chance of getting the prayer answered.

  About seven o’clock, Felicia started watching the back door. The Sentinels came any time after seven for the dented cans, and while she and Jordan had been separated, he’d come really late at night. But Lucas had been coming closer to eight, and before that, when he and Jordan had done the program together, that was when they’d come too.

  Jordan didn’t walk through the doors at seven-thirty. Or eight. He said he’d be back at eight, and she wondered how much he had to do before he could come collect the cans. At eight-fifteen, Felicia had too much nervous energy to watch a door that wasn’t opening.

  She grabbed an empty cart and headed out into the store. She liked getting out of the back room, and she often went through the store one last time after the main evening rush had sort of died. Now that winter had arrived, most people got their shopping done before it got too late, mostly because it felt like midnight at about six p.m.

  Felicia pushed the cart around the inner aisles, collecting things that weren’t in the right place on the shelf, as well as taking some time in the canned food lanes. By the time she returned to the back room, the clock had ticked to nine.

  She took another cart and started sorting through the groceries. She’d have Marc do the put-backs, as he, Felicia, and Dante were the only full-time employees in the back room. They put the store back together each night so it was ready in the morning, and Felicia loved the quieter hours in the store.

  She’d just pushed the remaining items in the cart—the dented and dinged cans—over to the big cardboard barrel when the back door opened. Her heart seized as she waited for someone to walk in.

  Her vision blacked for a moment, because this was exactly the position she’d been in the night the rival biker had come through the door.

  It wasn’t that one, she told herself. The bikers had entered the store through the front doors, and only one of them had come into the back to secure the storage area.

  Jordan came in, a black bandana tied around his head.

  Her heart sighed at the very sight of him, and she thought of all the kisses they’d shared in the past couple of days. Pearl had been right. Felicia knew she was allowing herself to fall in love with Jordan, and the way she felt when she kissed him was very solid proof.

  She left the cart where it was and walked toward him. “Hey,” she said, her pulse thumping in her neck. “How did it go down in Sunshine?”

  “It’s too long of a story,” he said, taking her into his arms. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Let’s just say that we currently have four Rough Riders staying in the loft above Ruby’s.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Yeah, that about sums it up.” He released her, and though he looked like he could easily sleep for the next four days, something bright and hopeful shone in those gorgeous eyes. “I just need to do the cans, and I’m done for the day.”

  “Let me drive you tomorrow,” she said. “That way, you can sleep late.”

  “I don’t see how that would make any difference.” His smile only told her that he knew what game she was playing. “You just want to see me again.”

  Felicia grinned right back at him. “Don’t act all proud of yourself.” She playfully swatted his chest, and he pretended she could really move a man his size by falling back a couple of steps.

  “Help me with the cans?”

  “Sure.”

  They went over to the cart and the container, and she began loading them from one to the other with him. He always pushed the cart out, because by the time it was filled, it weighed a lot. She watched him employ his muscles, and the temperature in the storage room shot up twenty degrees.

  “Put-backs?” Marc asked, and Felicia turned her attention that way instead of focusing on Jordan’s amble as he walked away from her.

  “Yes, if you could,” she said. “Take Dante, and I’ll be out to help get our aisles done.”

  “You got it.” Marc smiled at her and gripped the cart before pushing it out the black plastic door and into the main part of the market.

  Felicia turned her attention back to Jordan, but he’d already gone through the door. One more trip with another cartload, and all the cans were in the trailer attached to his motorcycle.

  She joined him outside, though it was far too cold to be in the elements for long. She wore a sweater and jeans, with a green apron around her waist, but that certainly wasn’t winter gear.

  “You can handle this with the trailer?” she asked.

  “I hope so,” he said. “It was a long ride to Sunshine and back.”

  “Maybe you should call Lucas.” She eased herself into his arms, snuggling tight against his leather jacket. She wanted him to unzip it and let her get closer to his main body heat, but his arms around her was enough for now.

  “I’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he said.

  “I fear you don’t know your own limits,” she said.

  “Trust me when I say I do.” He touched his mouth to her forehead, and Felicia quickly leaned her head back so she could kiss him properly. She imagined steam pouring from both of them as their heat filled the dark, cold winter night.

  “Pick me up in the morning at ten,” he whispered. “I’m going to call Chandler and tell him I’ll be in a little late.”

  “And this weekend, you can sleep while I knit.”

  He grinned at her and said, “I wish.”

  “No?”

  “I’m sure we’ll have some time for that,” he said. “But I’m going to be busy at the clubhouse for a few days.”

  “Oh, of course.” Felicia kissed him again, glad when he let her maintain control of the kiss for several long seconds. She finally broke their connection and licked her lips, tasting the peppermint from his mouth. “Be safe.”

  “Do you really want to ride with me?” he asked, his eyes deadly serious as they caught the glow from the overhead streetlamp.

  “Yes,” she said, only a shiver of fear moving through her. She had no idea what it would feel like to be perched on the back of his motorcycle, his body in front of her as he navigated them along the roads around Forbidden Lake. And she really wanted to know. She wanted to experience that part of his life with him.

  “Sunday?” he asked. “Let’s plan on Sunday.”

  “It’s a date.” She smiled as she stepped back, her gaze never leaving his. When she reached the door, she opened it and went in, one last wave of Jordan’s hand the last thing she saw of him.

  She bit her bottom lip and pressed her back into the door as she sighed. A laugh bubbled up from her stomach, because she felt an insane happiness in that moment she hadn’t experienced in far too long.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Vice looked up from his desk when Chandler entered the office. “How did it go?”

  “We got the appeal,” he said. “So we have more time to get everything we need.”

  “And Joyce?”

  Chandler sighed as he sat at his desk, ten feet from Vice’s. “She’s a pit bull. She won’t let go. It’ll go all the way, though everyone else seems to realize there are some concessions to be made.” He shook his head, but Vice was very well-versed in people not seeing that concessions needed to be made.

  No, he didn’t want the Breathers in Forbidden Lake. But he also didn’t want his house blown up. He wanted to be able to assure Theresa, Ian’s wife, and his two girls that he was safe with the Sentinels. He wanted to give Felicia the same comfort.

  He focused back on the file that had landed on his desk. Normally, he didn’t mind doi
ng the ground work for Chandler, so he could take the lead on all the facts Henry needed for the big cases.

  This new one required him to look into the pasts of a family business here in town that was being audited. The four siblings were split right down the middle, and a feud of sorts had started when the oldest brother, George Carlisle, had learned that his youngest brother had been taking money from the business for personal things.

  So he’d hired Smith, Stokes, and Sloan to make sure the audit went well and didn’t send his family business into bankruptcy. And to make sure that Shane Carlisle paid back the business.

  Henry Smith was very good at handling feuding families, and Vice wondered what he’d do about the Sentinels and the Devil’s Breath. And once the Breathers found out the Riders were involved….

  Vice’s head hurt just thinking about it. But he, Tyson, and Gramps had ridden for almost two hours to talk to the Rough Riders, and Vice was pretty sure the only reason they’d agreed to come was because Tyson was there.

  One of them used to ride with the Hawks, and their club president had beaten him and left him for dead. Tyson had taken him to the hospital—against club orders—and saved his life. Victor would do anything for Tyson, and he wanted to fight against Daddy and anything he wanted, no matter how removed from the situation he was.

  Not only that, but Tyson had learned that it was Daddy who’d suggested Forbidden Lake and the ports on Lake Michigan for their new route into Canada, as that was what he’d done for many years with the Hawks.

  Vice focused on his work, because he’d already asked to come in late and leave early, and Chandler had said he could. And Vice had a doctor’s appointment in the morning, so he was only working a half-day tomorrow as it was.

  He needed to get as much done in the time he had at his desk, and he put the Sentinels and the looming turf war out of his mind.

  Hours later, he finished up the last of the prep work on the Carlisle case and closed the folder. Chandler had gone into a meeting with Henry, so Vice put the brief on his boss’s desk and headed for the elevator. It was only three-thirty, but he’d arranged to get off early so he could catch a couple of hours of sleep before he headed to Ruby’s, where he expected to be until at least midnight.