by Jamie Begley
Physically exhausted, he leaned wearily against the windowsill. He hadn’t slept for over thirty-six hours, other than the brief ten-minute nap he had taken after fucking Jewell and Ember. He had to be physically and mentally exhausted before he would be able to sleep the four or five hours he would manage to attain every other day. The thoughts drumming through his skull kept him from finding the relief of slumber. No alcohol, nor the number of women he fucked could assuage the need that gave him the motivation he needed to see a new day start. That and The Last Riders.
The brothers might not have a blood bond, but they had shared hell together and had survived, forging a friendship that was stronger than blood.
Women like Lily were princesses and were meant for men of power. Just as Winter was Viper’s, the president of The Last Riders.
Rider was just a soldier. He was meant to live and die for the club. If he failed in his duty, then one of the brothers could be hurt. He had failed in that duty once before. Never again.
He wasn’t The Last Riders’ backup when things went to shit. He was their fail safe.
4
“Late night?” The snickering from the doorway had Rider straightening.
“You need something, Curt?”
“Just wanted to see if you wanted to get a beer after work?”
Rider would rather rip his toenails off than spend an evening pretending to be friendly with the disgusting man. However, he gave him a jaunty thumbs-up as he returned to the desk to deal with the e-mails.
“Ask Moon if he wants to go. The last time we hung out, he wanted to know why you didn’t invite him,” he smoothly lied. It was going to ruin what was left of Moon’s workday to find out he would have to spend the evening with Curt and his buddies at Mick’s bar. If he had to suffer, there was no reason Moon didn’t have to, too.
Curt’s chest swelled with pride that The Last Riders were fighting over his friendship. “Sure thing. I wouldn’t want to cause problems between you guys.” Hesitating, he turned to look over his shoulder before turning back toward Rider. “Should I invite Gavin?”
Rider wanted to laugh at Curt’s wariness. All the factory workers were leery of Gavin. Hell, most of the brothers were also.
“I’d give that a pass if I were you. Gavin prefers to spend his evenings working out.”
That was the truth. His friend spent hours working out after work in the basement of the club. Viper had converted part of it into a gym after Winter had been attacked to help her recover. It had also become useful after Cash’s motorcycle wreck. All the brothers made use of the top-of-the-line equipment.
“I know he’s a friend of yours, but he gives me the creeps.” Curt looked over his shoulder again to make sure no one had come up behind him.
Rider concentrated on the e-mails to keep from giving Curt the cutting remark he deserved. The only person who had a creep factor was Curt. Every time he had to hang out with him, he felt like taking a hot shower to cleanse the feeling of stepping in dog shit from his soul.
Viper had ordered him to make friends with the repulsive, sorry excuse of a man. That was after Jo had confronted Curt at Mick’s bar when she had returned to town. Train, Knox, Cash, and Rider had witnessed it. When they had gone back to the clubhouse, they had asked for permission to make Curt disappear. Unfortunately, Viper had denied the request after Shade had informed them of the repercussions. Curt was a member of a large family who would make waves if he disappeared. Instead, Viper had Shade and Cash come up with a plan.
The only way The Last Riders hadn’t been caught seeking their own brand of justice was they played it smart and bided their time until they were able to strike. It was taking longer than they had believed it would take. The son of a bitch was cagey, never admitting to anything he had done. They had hoped to find evidence that he had touched an underage student from the high school, but again, he had outmaneuvered them by marrying the girl when she had become pregnant. Now the girl was over eighteen and refused to admit that Curt had touched her when she was still underage.
Willa had tried to make friends with Megan during the brief time she had worked with her, to no avail. Lucky’s wife had been heartbroken when Curt had forced Megan to quit. Then she was even more upset when she had quit the job she had taken in King’s restaurant. Leaving her alone and without support when she had miscarried Curt’s baby, Megan had gone over the deep end and tried to kidnap Viper and Winter’s baby. The Last Riders had chipped in to get the girl counseling. However, once again, Curt had stymied them by locking her away in a mental health facility. Even if they could convince her to testify against Curt, her mental state would be used against her. The Last Riders wanted to see Curt behind bars, but not at the cost of causing more pain for Megan.
Sooner or later, Curt would fuck up, and The Last Riders would be waiting.
Rider reminded himself to take a couple aspirins before going out with him tonight to combat the headache that Curt always gave him.
“I need to get busy if I’m not going to keep you waiting after work,” Rider said when Curt lingered in the doorway.
“Wouldn’t want to hold you up. Mick’s will be full with it being Friday.”
Rider glared at Curt’s back as he left, hating that he would have to spend the better part of the night at Mick’s instead of at the party The Last Riders had every Friday night at the clubhouse. Several of the brothers were riding in tonight from Ohio, and he had been looking forward to spending the night with them and the women who were anxious to become full members.
His day had gone to shit ever since he had seen Jo at the diner.
Left alone, he was able to finish the e-mails. Then he needed to check the progress on the orders that were waiting to be filled.
Stepping out of the office, he checked the work board in the middle of the factory to see which orders were being worked on and those still waiting to be packaged.
“Fuck.” He was surprised Shade hadn’t ripped him a new asshole. The workers were backed up with him, Jewell, and Ember not working this morning. Train being off for the next three days hadn’t helped either.
Taking off his jacket, he took the packing list for the largest order and got busy, losing track of time. It was only when he was lifting a heavy box and the front door opened, spilling the bright light inside, that had him looking toward the front door and remembering that Jo had been scheduled to deliver Killyama’s car.
Carrying the box to the popcorn machine, he set it down to finish after he checked out the car.
Before he could stop her, Jo had gone to the office. Rider met her when she was about to come out of the empty room.
“Shade or Train around?” Her frosty voice was like a Brillo Pad on his ego. He could understand her not reciprocating his flirtatious behavior, but damn, she didn’t have to act like he was a slimy slug.
“Nope. Will I do?” He gave her a phony smile that all the brothers would recognize, deliberately maneuvering his body so Jo would have to brush past him or remain in the office.
She stared down her nose at him, remaining where she was. “I have Killyama’s car. Can you sign for it, or should I text Train?”
Her blue-gray eyes made no effort to hide the contempt she felt for him. From their first meeting, she had taken one look at him and formed an opinion of him that he hadn’t tried to change, but damn, it was getting harder and harder to resist bringing the woman down a peg or two. Several reasons stopped him. He had been in the bar when Jo had drawn a steak knife on Curt, exposing him and Jared as her rapists when they had been in high school together.
Rider would have taken that into consideration of her behavior toward him because of him being a male, but Jo hadn’t treated Moon or any of the other brothers to the same contempt she had him. Moon had treated her to the same flirtatious attitude as he had, but she had given him a tolerant smile as if he were a kid trying to get his first date.
The second reason was she was friends with Rachel, and if he pissed off Rache
l, then he would have to deal with Cash. All in all, it was too much work for him just to score a piece of ass that he could get by pressing one of the many women’s numbers that were available for him to choose from.
He folded his arms against his chest. “I can.”
Her eyes turned bluer than blue when he didn’t move out of her way.
“You first.” She motioned for him to go ahead of her so she wouldn’t have to brush past him.
Giving her a cocky smile that he was sure would lower him even more in her estimation of him, he moved partially to the side, giving her a scant inch more space. “Ladies first.” He expectantly waited for what she would do next.
She disappointed him when she reached for her cell phone. “Perhaps it would be easier for me to deal with Shade.”
“Don’t bother. He’s with Lily at her doctor’s appointment, and Train is in Lexington with Killyama—they’ve gone to a race. I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”
“You know what you’re doing. From the way the women in town talk about you, I’m surprised you’re trying to do something as mundane as copping a feel, giving me little room to go past you.”
“I’ve never been called mundane before. What does it mean?” Rider treated her to a fake frown of puzzlement.
“I know you’re not stupid. Rachel said you’re an engineer. If you don’t know what mundane means, then you didn’t get your money’s worth out of your college education.” Jo gave him a once-over as if he were a spoiled piece of beef at the store that no one wanted.
Damn, he should have expected Rachel would tell Jo.
“If you’re done having fun at my expense, I haven’t had lunch yet, and King is waiting for a tow.”
“I wasn’t making fun of you.” His frown became sincere.
“Really? It seems that way to me.”
“I was trying to flirt with you—”
“Again, you surprise me. I’ve made it pretty obvious I’m not interested in you.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try, does it?” He was enjoying their comebacks. Like a teeter-totter, their volleys had their ups and downs.
“It does when you’re bugging the piss out of me.”
For the first time in his life since turning thirteen, a woman stared at him coldly without a spark of sexual interest.
Turning, he walked to the front door, going outside and holding the door for Jo. “Shade said to put it in the bay. I’ll open the door for you.” Not waiting for her reply or even if she was going to make one, he went to the side of the factory toward the back. At the swipe of his palm, the metal door rose.
The back of the factory had two bays. One where the box trucks could load the packages to be shipped or where they received their supplies. The other bay, which he was giving Jo access to, was only used by The Last Riders. It housed his private collection of bikes, and the other brothers’ bikes and vehicles they owned. It also housed the security system for the factory and the clubhouse.
Jo backed up the trailer, stopping short of the metal door. Rider watched as she then lowered the car using the wrench, setting the car neatly inside the bay. It was covered with a tarp that she removed with a flourish.
He walked around the car slowly. It didn’t look like the same car. The four-door had undergone a dramatic change inside and out. The puke-green color was gone, and the candy-apple red was striking.
Opening the driver door, Rider poked his head inside, amazed at the transformation. The black leather upholstery shone and smelled brand-new. The whole car did. It had been restored with an eye to detail from the gauges that been cracked and broken to the side panels.
Rider gave an appreciate whistle, rising to admire the work of art that had been accomplished. “Damn, whoever Train found to restore it did a hell of a job,” he complimented, running his hand over the roof.
“I need a signature.” Her voice pulled him out of his absorption with the car.
Taking the clipboard, he scrawled his signature, thinking about how much crow he was going to have to eat when Train came back on Monday.
“I’ll have to ask Train who did it. I have a car in Ohio I’ve been hesitating to get restored.”
“He’s a friend of mine.” Reaching into the pocket on the front of her coveralls, she took out a business card, then handed it to him.
Staring down at the card, he saw the business was in Virginia.
“If you’re interested, send him a picture of your car, and he can give you an estimate.”
“I’ll do that … after I check him out. I want to see his reviews.”
“I met Carl when he restored a car for one of my customers. I think he’s done a couple. He said he’s retired and just take jobs he’s interested in. I don’t think he has any reviews,” Jo explained as she bunched the tarp up and tied it down on the trailer.
Staring at Killyama’s car, he decided to text the number on the card anyway.
“Give me a sec before you leave. Shade gave me a check to give to you from Train.” He remembered as Jo was about to get into her truck.
At her nod, he went to the door that led to the inside of the factory from the bay. Not wanting to keep her waiting, he hurried, telling Nickel he would be right back when he tried to ask a question. Grabbing the check from the office, he then turned, retracing his steps.
Opening the door into the bay, he heard Jo talking to someone, so he skirted a row of bikes, coming up behind the back of the tow truck.
“You’re getting ugly in your old age.”
Curt was the one being ugly, using a disparaging tone, trying to belittle the woman out of sight and sound of anyone.
“Go fuck yourself, Curt. Wait …” Scornfully, her words lashed out like a whip. “I fucked you. It wasn’t great. Why not give the girls under eighteen in town a break and take a flying leap off Black Mountain?”
Rider strode out, making his presence known when Curt took a step toward Jo. “You looking for me, Curt?”
“I was taking a cigarette break,” Curt answered defensively.
“Did you clock out?” Rider questioned with a raised brow, not missing the retaliatory glare he gave Jo before he went to the back door. The metal door slammed shut with a loud bang at the force Curt used.
Rider turned to look back at Jo. “If he gives you any trouble, call Shade. He’ll deal with him.”
“I don’t need Shade’s help to deal with Curt. He’s a scared little mouse unless he has his friends or cousins with him.”
“Scared little men like Curt are the most dangerous,” he warned.
“Curt wasn’t wrong. I am getting older and uglier. I’m not fifteen anymore. He messes with me, he’ll get more than he’s bargained for.” She met his gaze with a steely determination that had him becoming afraid for her.
Curt might seem like a lazy bastard, but when assholes like him became angry, they didn’t care who they hurt.
He had to quell the worry beginning to burn a hole in his stomach. He should have just kept his fucking mouth closed. Jo was an independent woman who didn’t need or want advice from him.
“Here’s Train’s check.” Handing it to her, he then swept his hand over the pad, closing the bay door. “You have the keys?”
Jo gave him a searching look before taking them from her front pocket and giving them to him. “That’s it? No flirting? No ‘you want to go out’? You offer to have Shade deal with Curt when you could have said something a minute ago. When you get shot down for good, your true colors come out. It’s good to know I didn’t waste my time with you.”
He closed his hand around the keys in his palm, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying what he wanted to say. Instead, he lowered his lashes, gave her the sensual smile he gave to women, and said, “I didn’t say anything to Curt because I didn’t think you would appreciate me making you look weak in front of him.”
Jo’s jaw dropped, and she took a step back when he took a step forward, making sure she caught a whiff of the expensive col
ogne he paid to be made just for him.
Giving her a wry look for backing away, he bent down to pick up the buffing rag that had fallen out of her pocket. “I stopped flirting with you because you told me to. If you’re having trouble making up your mind, we could have dinner tonight at King’s.”
“I’d rather eat glass if I was starving to death than have dinner with you. You were fucking Carly in the bathroom this morning, and you have the nerve to ask me out for dinner tonight? Invite Carly; it would make her night after you left without saying goodbye.”
If Jo thought she would make a dent in his pride at her refusal, she was mistaken. You had to care about a woman to worry about what they thought of you. He didn’t believe women were helpless and couldn’t take of themselves. He had learned to his own detriment that they had a survival instinct that was more cunning than a man’s.
“That’s too bad. King’s chef is the best in Kentucky.” Going to the side of her tow truck, he opened the door for her. “I’d better be getting back to work.”
“Tha …” she began to say as she started to step up onto the footrest when Rider reached out before she could react, plucking her off her feet and plopping her down gently on the driver’s seat.
Jo stared down at him in surprise. He quickly shut the door before she could hit him.
“You take care.” Giving her a jaunty wink, he went to the back door of the factory, already putting her out of his mind.
Some women could make men cry in their beers because men wanted them so badly. Jo wasn’t one of those women. She was a ball buster. It would take a strong man to survive the shitstorm of trying to win her. It wasn’t a challenge Rider was interested in winning.
The married brothers had fought a battle of falling in love and lost. As much as Jo intrigued him—the hard rise in his jeans testified to that fact—it wasn’t enough to have him beating down her door or chasing her tow truck.