by Dale Mayer
“Yes, but you didn’t kill Dean for him. And that’s a big difference. You might have killed Billy as a crime of passion, but killing Dean was trying to cover your tracks. You can’t expect that to be accepted by anyone.”
“He deserved it. He was trying to grab all the money anyway.”
“But he didn’t get it, did he? And he went to the police and told them about you and the store being used for your dealings, and about Borg. The cops are after Borg now. He needs to get the hell out of town and stay out. They have a long memory here.”
“No, he needs to stay here and take the fall for killing you and Morgan.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Jazz ran her hand through her hair. “The men have already left. The cops are already here. There’s no getting away. No going free from this point on.”
“The cops aren’t here,” Perl scoffed. “And I have to kill you. Anyone would understand that.”
No. Jazz sure as hell didn’t. She’d heard whispering from the back room and could see out the front window from the corner of her eye. And the cops. It looked like a SWAT team had arrived outside as well.
“Perl, it’s over.” Morgan called from the back room. “Put down the damn gun. The cops are here.”
“So what? This is my exit strategy. I know where I’m going from here. Into hell with your fucking brother.”
“Please, Perl—” Jazz groaned as the gun jabbed into her kidney. “Why are you picking on me? You already shot me, damn it.”
“Of course I did, you bitch. Billy was always about you. I wanted to take you and that lousy brother of his out so bad. Only I could never get a clean shot.”
“Where’d you get the guns?”
“My grandfather’s house. He doesn’t even know they are missing.”
“And the electronics in our bedroom?” Morgan called out. “Was that you, too?”
“Of course. I figured you had to have the damn money. There’s nothing like pillow talk to open up about secrets.” She snorted. “Another reason to shoot Dean. His damn electronics didn’t work.”
Thank God. Jazz loved hearing that bit, but it was much harder to deal with the shock of the woman’s duplicity. She’d seen Perl at the shop every time she’d been there – then remembered that she’d been walking in after running errands several times. And with Jazz not being at the store full-time she could have slipped out many times. Damn. Anger threading her voice, she asked, “And the electronics in the shop?”
“That was for Billy and Borg.” She snickered. “I admit to having a lot of fun with that system.”
With the ball in the pit of her stomach threatening to explode, her hands shaking with nerves, Jazz desperately tried to talk Perl into giving up. “Please put down the gun,” she said.
“Hell no. I’m not getting out of here alive, but that don’t matter, because you aren’t either.”
“And what about Borg and Morgan?” Jazz cried. “Are you planning on killing all three of us?”
“Of course.” Perl turned to face the backroom. “Morgan and Borg, get your asses out here.”
“No can do,” Morgan called out. “Borg has left already.”
There was an odd silence.
“What?” Perl yelped. “No way. I would have heard him.”
There was an odd shuffling sound. Jazz wanted to yell at him to run. If Borg got away, then so could he. Instead, she watched him slowly appear. She raised her hand to her chest. Please, no.
Morgan faced her in the doorway, his arm down low. “Well, you didn’t. As you know, the door back here is very quiet. While you were talking, he grabbed the opportunity. He’s gone.”
Jazz shook her head. “Damn it, Morgan, why didn’t you leave, too?”
“Not without you.”
Perl snorted. “You two make me sick.” She shoved Jazz toward Morgan. “You love him so much you can die with him.”
Morgan snatched her up in his arms but before she could wrap her arms around him, he shoved her safely behind him and he shouted, “Now.”
Perl raised her gun and took aim.
An odd popping sound filled the air. There was the sound of glass shattering, followed by a heavy thud and a clatter of a gun.
Jazz spun around, afraid of what she’d missed.
Morgan snagged up her again and pulled her tight. “It’s okay. It’s all over.”
“What’s all over? Perl?” She twisted in his arms. Perl was on the floor, the gun several feet away from her. “Oh my God, is she dead?”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
Borg came from the other side of the room. “Let me check.”
But Morgan got there first, snatching up the gun and holding it downward at the ready just in case. Borg shook his head. “I’m no danger to you.”
“It’s been a really tough week,” Morgan said. Jazz walked to his side. She bent down and checked Perl. “There’s no pulse.”
There was a commotion outside the front door. Jazz looked at Borg. “You better run while you can.”
He studied her for a long moment, then looked over at Morgan. As if waiting.
Morgan nodded. Saying a final goodbye to another stage of his life. “Just don’t come back. Ever.”
One curt nod, and Borg slipped out back like the ghost he was. Jazz stared into the shadows he’d disappeared into. “Surely the cops would have men around back, wouldn’t they?”
“Oh, I think so. But he can’t blame us for that.”
The front door opened. “Morgan?”
“It’s all clear. Perl is down.”
Men streamed in, strong flashlights lighting the room. Jazz stood up and looked around. “Roxy!” She raced over to her friend crumpled on the floor by the reception desk. “Someone help her, please.”
There were paramedics at Roxy’s side before she made it to her friend. “She’s alive. Looks like she was hit over the back of the head.”
Jazz stood in the middle of the room, wrapped in Morgan’s arms, tears dripping down her cheeks as the place swung into organized chaos.
“It’s over. Roxy will be okay.”
Jazz nodded. “Thank God. I just wonder if I ever will be again.”
“You will. It’s just going to take time.”
*
And now for the first time since this mess started, he knew they’d have the time. The time to heal. The time to forgive. The time to love.
There was a lot to mull over. A lot of questions still, but hopefully they could get answers. A lot to explain to the police. A lot for the police to explain to them.
Given the people that were here when they arrived, he assumed that Borg had been Roxy’s date tonight. How unfortunate for her, but then Borg would have done almost anything to get his money. And had he disappeared for good? Or did the police already have him in custody? After this mess, his crimes would keep him behind bars for years to come.
He held Jazz close as she watched the men work on Roxy. The two women would need each other after this mess. Finding a viper in their nest would be hard on anyone.
His brother’s murder had been solved and maybe it was wrong, but he couldn’t be sorry about the outcome. He was saved from having to deal with a murder trial and rehashing his brother’s life. Much better to be able to make peace and move on.
Into a future he – they – could now look forward to.
Roxy was being loaded onto a stretcher and pushed out to the waiting ambulance.
He bent and whispered, “Do you want to go to the hospital to be with her?”
Jazz looked at him, her eyes overly bright with tears, and said, “Yes, please.”
“Come on. Let’s go. I’ll tell the police where they can find us.”
She winced. “I guess we still have to face that, don’t we?”
“Yes, but the good news is – it will soon be over. And we can get back to living a normal life. Just the two of us, forever.”
“Promise?” she whispered as she stared up at him.
He smiled, reached up, and stroked her lips, loving that she kissed his finger at the same time. “I promise.”
Biker Baby Blues: Morgan
Part 4
Dale Mayer
Chapter 1
Jazz wandered through Morgan’s house in a bit of a daze. Surely it wasn’t true. But the little stick in her hand said it was. Like how had that happened? At the same time, she couldn’t stop gently rubbing the non-existent baby bump. If the stick wasn’t lying, the bump would grow soon enough for her to be sure.
Only she didn’t want to wait.
Her life was in chaos still. She wasn’t settled. Sure, she was back with Morgan and the nightmare of the last many weeks was over. Had been over for some time. Long enough to almost start to relax and sleep through the night. Long enough to almost stop looking over her shoulder. Almost long enough to have put it all behind her.
Up until now, she’d been in a honeymoon phase. They were safe and together. That’s what counted. It was all that counted.
And that was the problem. There had been no discussion about their future. They still owned two houses, with her stuff in both and her going back and forth to get possessions and do basic maintenance. The arrangement had started out on a temporary basis and had more or less stayed that way out of convenience. But there’d been no discussion or commitment about living together.
He didn’t seem to be bothered.
Then again, she was living in his house. And he wasn’t the one split between two homes.
What was missing was that sense of permanency. That sense of them living together because it’s what they both really wanted – not just out of necessity.
After he’d left her the first time, she had no illusions that he was a stick-around kind of guy. Sure, he’d changed. And maybe he’d be here for the long term now, but she wasn’t wanting to bring up the subject and have him bolt. She certainly did not want to bring up the subject of the tiny stick in her hand.
Morgan was a travelling man. Her subconscious jumped in and said, No, that wasn’t fair. He’d been a travelling man. Big difference.
Coming close to dying did that to a person. She rolled her shoulder experimentally. It had healed enough to start physiotherapy. Whoever said such a thing was good for you obviously wasn’t going through it. The bottom line was, physiotherapy hurt.
Maybe it was good for her in the long run, but right now, she hated going. Still, to get the full function of her arm back – she’d do anything she had to. She had work piled up at her tattoo shop and with her out and Roxy running the place, they were backed up even more.
Roxy had hired an extra person to help, and he appeared to be doing a good job. Jazz went in when she could, but her intricate designs were taking longer to complete and she was pushing herself to do more and more, which impacted her healing.
Maybe she shouldn’t be doing so much, but a life of uncertainty with Morgan was part of it. She didn’t have that same confidence in her future that she thought she’d have at this point.
The pregnancy test had sent her hard-earned calm off the wall.
A baby. She smiled, a tender emotional smile that she could feel down to her toes. A son like Morgan? Or a daughter. She couldn’t help but imagine the tiny footsteps.
Oh Lord. How could such a life event happen without planning? Of course that’s likely how most pregnancies happened – without planning. But she was on the pill. Had been for years. She turned the little stick in her fingers around, wondering at the validity of the results. Should she do a second test again?
No, she’d wait and do it again tomorrow.
And worry about it all day today. With a heavy sigh, she got up and dressed. She might be a part owner of the business, but she still had to show up to keep the money rolling in.
Today, she was starting on Stengel’s latest piece. He’d finalized the design just before the chaos that blew her world apart, and he’d wanted to wait until she was healed enough to do it.
Now that she was strong enough to start working again, he was up first. This design memorialized his brother, who’d died in a biking accident years ago. She’d known Dormer as well. A good man, if a bit rough around the edges. He’d had a heart of gold. She was doing this as a contribution to Stengel’s healing and as a good-bye for Dormer. The two brothers had been close.
His appointment was at eleven, a half hour after her physiotherapy finished.
Hopefully her arm was up to the job. She knew it was, but like any artist, she worried about screwing up. It was a little hard to fix if she did. Not impossible, but when something like this meant so much, she wanted it perfect.
And that meant getting her ass in gear. A quick glance at the night table clock confirmed that niggling sensation she’d been ignoring.
She was late. She dressed quickly and headed downstairs. Surely no one could blame her if she kept the little stick in her pocket. She’d cleaned it off but hadn’t been able to throw it away. It wasn’t proof – but it was damn convincing.
There was no sign of Morgan in the kitchen. Then since she’d been sleeping so heavily, he was often up ahead of her. She’d have to work harder on keeping to a routine. It was hard enough getting used to going back to work full-time as it was. She loved her work, but after the excitement and panic she’d been through, she was starting to look at her former sixty-hour work week in horror. Nothing like several weeks of recovering from a health issue to realize that her schedule would have killed her eventually, too.
She wanted to spend more time with Morgan, if that’s what he wanted. But he was building a business of his own here at his house. Motorcycle repairs and customization. He’d do well at it, but it would likely take a fair bit of time to build up. She should know. She’d built her tattoo shop over the last many years. Her and her partner Roxy had both invested a lot of sweat, blood, and tears into their baby.
Baby. Her face flushed with heat then washed out. Oh Lord. Her hand once again went to rest protectively against her non-existent belly.
What the hell would Morgan say?
She didn’t want him to offer marriage because she was pregnant, but he was so damn likely to she didn’t even want to mention it. She hated to be old fashioned about it, but a huge part of her wanted him to want to be with her for her sake alone. He was an honorable man and would do what he’d consider the right thing, but she didn’t want to marry for the ‘right’ reasons. It wasn’t necessary in today’s society either.
Marriage was something she hadn’t considered until these last few weeks in the aftermath of almost losing her life. To think of Morgan offering it because of the baby made it something less than what she’d hoped for. Silly perhaps.
She snorted. Hell, she could ask him to marry her, but knowing she was possibly pregnant made it less than upfront and honest unless she told him about the pregnancy, and she couldn’t have the baby discussion at the same time if she wanted to see his honest reaction about the marriage topic.
Damn. Talk about timing.
She wanted this baby. Hadn’t known she wanted it until it came into being, but she really wanted Morgan’s child. So how to proceed?
Walking out into the garage a few minutes later, two mugs of coffee in her hands, she found him bent over a motorcycle tire. She loved that long, lean muscled look to him. With a smile, she held out the cup she’d brought for him. “Here.”
He lifted his head and grinned when he saw her. “Finally woke up, did you?”
She flushed. “I had a bad night.”
Of course now that she’d seen the stick change color, her heavy sleep was likely due to a different reason.
“Sorry, baby. Nightmares still getting to you?” He walked over, took the mug from her hand, and gave her a gentle hug. “You looked tired when I got up so I didn’t wake you, but I knew you had physio this morning and wasn’t sure how long to let you sleep.” He took a sip of coffee, his gaze intent as he studied her features. “When is your appointment?”
&nb
sp; “In an hour. I’ll go straight to the shop afterwards.”
He nodded. “Just don’t overdo it, you know how you feel after the therapy sessions.”
“Yeah, wasted,” she retorted, “but it doesn’t matter. Stengel is coming this morning. I want to get his tattoo started today.” She wandered the shop, looking at the black gas tank on the bench and the incredibly beautiful sunset scene in progress on the side.
Morgan said he hadn’t done much painting before, but if so, he was truly gifted. This custom work alone would make his business shine. “This is beautiful. Who is it for?”
“It’s for Cash. He’s building a new rig.”
“Interesting. I hadn’t taken him for a sunset and roses kind of guy.” In truth, Cash was an enigma. He’d gone from being a morgue orderly to a therapist working in the same hospital. Like how did one make a change like that? She hated to think of his first job and could understand wanting to make a change, but to a therapist? The last time she’d seen him, she’d asked. He’d given her the sweetest smile and said he was going to keep the numbers in the morgue down.
That made perfect sense.
He was a hell of a man, too.
“I think he’s full of surprises in many aspects. But a customer is a customer, and they are generally always right.”
She tossed him a smile. There was nothing like being in the service industry to give you a different perspective on clients and their wishes.
“Did you eat?” Morgan asked.
“No time.”
She heard his barely suppressed sigh. He figured she didn’t look after herself well enough. She was just never hungry in the mornings. And lately that had been worse.
“I’ll grab something at the shop.”
“Make sure you do. Therapy always makes you nauseous.”
Great. Like she needed more of that.
“Another reason I don’t mind not having time to eat. It’s worse when I eat beforehand.”
She walked out of the double doors to stand on the paved driveway. He really had chosen a perfect family spot here. The first time she’d seen the house, it struck her oddly that her travelling biker man had picked a family house in a residential area, like the inside of him yearned for the whole society package that the outside of him wasn’t ready to acknowledge.