Rose burst out laughing. “Ours at least looks like a pizza. Ace, yours looks more like a casserole.”
Obviously unwilling to concede defeat, Ace shook his head. “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings, ladies. It’s gonna taste great…I think.”
Standing there looking awkward but pleased with himself, Tiffany’s mind reeled back to the first time she’d ever met Ace. He’d been fresh off a prison stint for a crime he didn’t commit. Grieving the death of his twin brother, he hadn’t been eating properly or caring for his hygiene. The long, lustrous hair now pulled neatly back at the nape of his neck had been unwashed and hanging in his face, and dark circles gave his haunted eyes a gaunt quality that she’d remember until the day she died.
His words echoed through her head. “Why would an innocent little nurse be defending a piece of garbage like Ryder? That don’t hardly make no sense to me. His heart is as dark as mine.”
Now here he was, standing tall and healthy in clean clothing with a relaxed smile on his handsome face.
Leaning over, Ace snapped his fingers in her face. “Wake up, Tiff. You zoned out on us.”
She smiled wanly. “I was just thinking about that sorry excuse for a pizza you made.”
Laughing, he looked down at his ridiculous concoction. “Well, it might be like me: ugly on the outside but good on the inside. I’m reserving final judgment until I taste it.”
Rose teased him playfully. “If it tastes as bad as it looks, you’ll have to share with us. Good thing we’re expert pizza chefs.”
“Says the girl who’s made pizza only one time ever in her entire life.”
Grabbing hers, Rose headed for the oven. “I’ve eaten a lot of pizza in my time. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
“Sure, kid, why not?” he placated her. “Move over now. I need room for mine in there. I gotta cook it before it collapses.”
Rose giggled. “It’s not the leaning tower of pizza.”
Shooting her a look of mock disgust, Ace retorted, “You’re a very punny kid. You know that, right?”
Putting her hands on her hips, she insisted, “I’m a woman, not a kid. Don’t keep calling me a kid.”
Shooting her a teasing smile, Ace teased, “I’ll be sure to ask your brother and dad about that one. Wouldn’t want to zig when I should have zagged.”
“Hell’s fire, I’ll be filing for social security before either of them admits I’m a grown-up.”
If her tone of voice was any indication, Rose’s feelings on the subject were conflicted.
Suddenly, Ace turned serious. “Being a grown-up is not all it’s cracked up to be. Don’t rush it, kid.”
Ambling back over to lean on the table, she mumbled despondently, “Yeah, whatever you say, Ace.” Noticing the package Tiffany had brought in and set aside, Rose asked, “What’s this? Can we open it?”
Tiffany momentarily stopped trying to uncork a bottle of wine and nodded. “It must be something Ryder ordered. I think he said something about ordering a new meat thermometer.”
“Sounds like my brother. The man cannot stand a dry pot roast.”
As Tiffany went back to working on the cork, Rose got to tearing open the package and inspecting whatever was inside. Just as the cork finally came free, she murmured pensively, “Someone ordered a gingerbread man dish.”
Freezing in place, Tiffany wondered if she’d heard her guest right. Ace’s voice chimed in. “No, it’s a gingerbread girl. See that? She’s wearing a dress.”
“It doesn’t matter. She still as little gumdrop buttons down the front. That’s the important part.”
Feeling as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, the wine bottle slid from Tiffany’s hands. Crashing onto the neatly laid stone tile, the bottle splintered into a million pieces. She saw the red wine splash across the floor, triggering a memory of her finding Rupert.
She’d come home from class one day and found his bloodied body lying on the pristine, white tile of her kitchen floor. Stuart walked by, scooped the orange fur ball up and walked away. He casually tossed words over his shoulder that would stick with her forever.
“Clean that up, wife. I had a bit of an accident.” Looking down into the cat’s dead face he sighed. “He just wouldn’t listen.”
Suddenly, someone was jerking on her arm.
Ace’s panicked voice broke through the fog. “Tiffany, what’s wrong. Did you see something? Tell me what the fuck is going on!”
Rose smacked his hand. “Leave her alone. She’s having a flashback or something.”
Snatching his hand away, he looked down at her worriedly. “Shit. Are you sure?”
“She’s fine, aren’t you, Tiffany?” Rose was using the slow, calm voice that people often did when trying to dial down some drama.
“Su…sure,” Tiffany stammered. “I just dropped the wine and…and…”
Rose snapped protectively. “And nothing, ‘cause you don’t owe anyone an explanation. Now, let’s get your pizza in the oven, okay?”
Feeling all manner of stupid, Tiffany nodded. “Sure, then I’ll clean up this wine mess.”
Ace was already throwing down a half a roll of paper towels and had it cleaned up before they got back from the oven. Looking down at her, he mumbled, “How about we have a nice white wine tonight?”
Nodding like a woman who’d gone off her rocker, Tiffany headed across the room. “I’ve got a couple in the refrigerator. They’ll be nice and cold.”
Soon after, Ryder blew through the front door. He stalked over, concern etched onto his face. He shot Ace a nervous glance, clueing her in to the fact that Ace probably texted him a little heads up that his old lady was acting crazy.
Pulling him a beer out of the fridge, she plastered a reasonable smile on her face. “You’re just in time for dinner. We’ve got pizza, steak, and pizza casserole.”
“Well, I ain’t never heard of pizza casserole before. I might try that.”
Rose chimed in, “Ace made it.”
Ryder deadpanned back, “Guess I’ll stick with steak.”
Everyone chatted and ate. Halfway through dinner, Ryder jerked forward in his seat. “What the fuck is that?” Tiffany didn’t have to look to know he was pointing to the gingerbread dish.
Rose’s voice turned worried. “It came in the mail today. Am I in trouble for opening it?”
Tiffany stated quietly, “I was waiting until we were alone to talk to you about that.”
Rose reached for the dish.
“Don’t touch it, Rose.” Standing so fast his chair flipped back, Ryder stalked over to the box it came in and pushed the flap down with his nail. “No return address.”
At that moment, Tiffany wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She couldn’t move or speak or think. Why did she always freeze up in situations like this?
Stuart had already found her again. This was an all-time record for him. She watched Ryder use a paper towel to carefully lift the dish back into the box and carry it out the door. God only knew where he was going or how long he’d be gone.
Rose, ever the studious observer of life, made a wild guess. “Is that to do with your ex?”
Nodding, Tiffany whispered, “You should go. Wherever I am is not a safe place for you to be anymore.”
“Fuck that.”
Tiffany’s head snapped up. Rose was not supposed to be cursing, and she knew it. Turning to her stunned friend, she asked quietly, “Ace, can you take Rose home?”
Ryder’s voice barked the doorway, “Ain’t none of us going anywhere. We’re going to sit right here, finish our meal, and wait for Cork and his team to have a proper look around. We know someone who can dust the dish for prints. Since it had no return address, it came from a person, not a company.”
Ace looked back and forth between his club brother and new friend. “How long has this been going on?”
Ryder swiveled his head around to look at her. “Tiffany, please answer the question.”
; Rubbing her temple, she couldn’t manage to get rid of the pain throbbing there. “I didn’t understand that it was him until today.”
Shock and then realization dawned on his voice, and Ryder’s voice softened. “Looking back, what was the first thing that caught your notice?”
“The dead birds on our welcome mat probably should have given me more pause than it did,” she snarked, angry with herself for not seeing the clues sooner. Hearing the others gasp, Tiffany realized the full weight of her error in thinking. “When I was little, my cat used to bring me dead birds and mice as some kind of cat offering.”
Ace sounded relieved. “Cats do that.”
“That’s exactly what made me think it was a stray looking for a new owner,” she shared her reasoning. “Only, I never saw a cat at any point. Granted, I wasn’t actually looking for one either.”
Ryder asked quietly, “How many, Tiff?”
Looking down at the table, Tiffany couldn’t believe she’s been so stupid. “Five. I kicked them into the flower bed, thinking we’d deal with them in the spring.”
Ace spoke up, his voice laced with concern. “I can see how you would have thought that. I might not have put two and two together myself.”
“The cat I told you about? I brought it with me when I got married. Stuart hated his little offerings. He told me if it continued, he’d get rid of Rupert the Magnificent. One day I came home, and Stuart had…had…” She stopped talking, not trusting her voice.
“You don’t have to say it,” Ryder told her.
“I don’t know why I still get so emotional,” Tiffany said, running a hand through her hair. “It’s really stupid to be upset about something like that after all these years.”
Rose leaned over. “What does that have to do with the gingerbread boy dish?”
Ryder’s head fell forward. “It was a gingerbread girl. They run. Haven’t you heard the story? The first time Tiff ran, it was Christmas, and he used the rhyme to taunt her.”
Ace’s concern morphed into fury in a heartbeat. “Tell me the fucker’s name.”
Tiffany issued a quick warning. “He’s from old money. If you touch him, you’ll end up in jail.”
“Been there, done that, and it would be a privilege to do it for you.”
Ace’s willingness to sacrifice himself to protect her was all kinds of messed up. Tiffany’s mind drifted back to all the times when she could have turned on Stuart, stabbed him in his sleep, or run him over with her car. The fact is, she’d chosen to run because she didn’t think she had it in her to kill someone—even the man who almost killed her more than once.
Sitting at the table staring at Ace, she began to reevaluate. This man had been through hell and back. The thought of him throwing away the life he’d worked so hard to build for her simply broke her heart. Then again, allowing Ryder or any other person to get hurt was equally repugnant. There had to be another way.
Snubbing back big girly tears, she sucked it up and pulled herself together. “Seeing you go to jail over this would crush my soul. Besides, this is the last thing you two need to focus on right now. You’ve got this Darkness situation to worry about,” she reminded them.
Rose’s angry voice chimed in again. “That does it. I say we track the bastard down. You two hold him down, and Tiff and I will shove gingerbread cookies down his throat until he turns into one himself.”
Ryder tilted his head, staring at his sister. “Have you officially lost your freaking marbles, sis?”
Jerking her shoulders in a shrug, she chicken-necked her brother. “What? It sounds like a good plan to me.”
Ryder’s voice turned steely. “Well, I’m solving my problems one bitch at a time. First, I’ll take care of the one sitting in the basement of our clubhouse, and next I’ll deal with that punk-ass bitch of an ex-husband of yours.”
Something about the resolve in his voice sent a chill down Tiffany’s spine.
~ Ryder ~
Riding twenty deep to the meet up with the Seven Devils, they kept to secondary roads in order to avoid being noticed. Ryder mentally ran through the details of his plan one more time. Confident that he’d covered all the bases on this one, he knew this could only go down one way. Even his old man and Hickory approved each and every action point. Feeling his rifle bouncing slightly against his leg, Ryder gripped his ape bars tighter.
Pulling up at the old warehouse, they waited for the Seven Devils to show up by boat. What kind of MC showed up to face off with a rival club on a fucking speedboat anyway? The thought of watching them crawl off their little boat instead of riding in like men on their hogs almost made him laugh.
It had been almost a full month since Darkness had been shot. Abby had lost what little was left of her mind more than once over her prolonged, uninvited stay. Sitting in that jail cell all by herself with only a pillow and blanket served her right, in Ryder’s humble opinion. It would teach the ignorant bitch not to come sniffing around the Blind Jacks MC next time her little Honey Bear was short of cash.
What the hell kind of man let his woman call him Honey Bear? Probably the same kind of ignorant fuck who thought it was a great idea for his woman to get pregnant by the president of a rival MC on the off chance it might get him a little leverage. Ryder was going to have a hard time keeping a straight face during the meetup, now that he knew just how ridiculous Devil really was.
Rolling onto the property, his brothers took up formation around the property. Cork dragged a kicking and screaming Abby out of an old, beat-up truck. No brother trusted the bitch on the back of his bike, and Ryder could hardly blame them. However, Cork was none too happy about being the one tasked with riding in a cage. Tossing her onto the gravel in front of them, he stalked back to his truck, pulled out his rifle, and took up a protective stance with the other brothers.
“Tell your ugly stinking men to keep their damn hands off me,” Abby snarled. “God, I hate your entire crew. If it were up to me, you’d all end up—”
Ryder hauled her up by one arm and peered into her face. “I hate to interrupt you during you’re crazy time, but we’re trying to work a deal here. Would you mind shutting the fuck up?”
“Your club brothers think they can do anything they want with me because I’m a woman,” she spat back. “I’m not here for their enjoyment.”
“Don’t know what kind of shit you think you’re starting, but you need to know your cell was wired and that truck you rode here in has a dash cam. We can account for every single minute you were with us and prove that you got fed three times a day and guzzled down water bottles right, left, and center. You were treated well by my club, and I know for a fact that no damn brother touched you.”
Staring up at him, she mumbled, “There were times—”
“No, there were not times when the cameras weren’t on you, so don’t go there,” he warned her. “I’d be happy to send all that footage to Devil, including the parts where you volunteered to blow your guards in exchange for treats.”
She stilled in his hand and turned away. “That won’t be necessary.”
Shoving her into Ace’s arms, he muttered, “You are a nasty piece of work, lady.”
Darkness listened to their conversation without once interrupting. His voice was low and calm when he finally spoke. “Keep your hands on her, Ryder. I don’t want any surprises. If she even looks like she’s going to cause any trouble at all, zip-tie her hands behind her and gag her.”
“You got it, boss,” Ryder agreed happily. He only wished she’d be dumb enough to push her luck. “This deal is going down just the way we planned it.”
Abby jerked to get closer to Darkness, spitting venom and spite. “You’d better have your quarter of a million or my Devil will tear this place apart.”
Without clueing her in to the change of plans, they watched Devil, Ratchet, and a dozen of his men step out of a large speedboat. They were dressed in faded jeans and wore Seven Devils cuts. They were heavily armed and glancing suspiciously around,
as much as Ryder would be doing if he was in enemy territory.
“You making a deal tonight, Darkness?” Devil’s voice rang out in the cool night air.
Darkness stepped forward to greet the other man. “I don’t want to, but it seems you hold all the cards.”
Ever the narcissist, Ratchet spoke up. “Hard time calling on a man to make tough choices. Not many men would give up a child if it could be avoided.”
“Since I never thought I’d have a kid, you’d be right about that part.” Glancing over his shoulder at Abby, who was straining to get out of Ace’s hold, Darkness sighed. “The bitch I can live without, though. She ain’t nothing but trouble.”
Ratchet responded casually, “Most are. Let’s get on with it. I can’t say I like being on your turf.”
“We drop our weapons on the tarp before we go inside. Don’t need anyone getting a twitchy trigger finger during the deal.” Reaching up to touch the wound that was still slightly tender to the touch, Darkness frowned. “We both know how that turned out last time.”
“We took care of that little problem.”
Ryder nodded. “We saw the autopsy report. Fuckin’ addicts are always a liability.”
Darkness gestured to the tarp. “Unload, and we’ll sit down with my lawyers. You know how the straight arrows are. Most of them ain’t never seen a real gun before.”
Devil chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth. Ours acts like just lookin’ at a gun will brand him a criminal forever.”
Unloading the gun from his inside his cut, Darkness also pulled out his backup weapon and a couple of knives. Laying them in a neat little pile, he waited for his visitors to follow suit. They did so only reluctantly. As they stepped up, Ryder frisked everyone and gave the all clear.
Darkness led them to the warehouse. “We set up a desk inside with some chairs, so we can all get comfortable and read through the paperwork. My attorney is ready with a notary. Follow me.”
Fighting Dirty (Blind Jacks MC Book 2) Page 13