Troubled Son: Savage Sons MC Romance

by King, Jayna

"Makes sense," Max agreed. She looked at me. "Where do you want to meet?"

  I made plans to pick her up at her apartment. Since she was new in town, there was no way that anyone would know who she was and think it was strange to see me there.

  "One more thing, both of you." Jeff looked from me to her and back at me again. "The team and I have decided that it's best if the two of you cohabitate during this operation. You can stay at Moses' house or at the clubhouse, but there's no way that your old lady would be living in a fancy new apartment in a ritzy shopping district. That make sense?"

  I shook my head. I should have known this fucker would throw me a curve. I didn't want anyone living with me, not at the clubhouse, and sure as shit not at my house. Max looked as happy as I was...which was not at all.

  "Look, I don't think that's gonna work," I started.

  Tombley shrugged. "I know it's going to be weird at first, but if you think about it, there's no other alternative. You're going to be wearing a wire to meetings in the middle of the night, and if we don't collect and store the evidence properly, then it's no good to us. One of the reasons we're putting Max in is to ensure that the rules of collecting evidence aren't broken."

  Max sighed, looking for the first time like she was regretting her involvement in the case. "I'm okay with it, I guess. I'm used to my space, but as long as we can agree not to crowd one another, I'll do it."

  I thought about the nights we'd have to spend at the clubhouse, and I decided not to tell Max about the double bed we'd be sharing in a building full of bikers and hookers. "Fine. Let's get it done and end this thing. I ain't used to a bunch of girly shit spread all over my house, but I guess I can suck it up."

  Max laughed. "What a romantic way to move in together," she said with a wink at me.

  I couldn't help but laugh too. She may or may not work out, but I had to give it to her. She had a pretty good attitude so far. When it came to the Savage Sons, attitude was a start.

  Chapter 7

  Max

  April 2, 2013

  I spent most of the morning lounging in my pajamas, drinking coffee and reading through the files on the members of the Savage Sons. Ho. Ly. Shit. They were nasty folks, every last one of them. Every member -- including the prospects -- had been in trouble with the law at least once, and one of the members had even served time in a federal prison. Drug charges, prostitution, vandalism, failure to pay child support, assault, unlawful possession of firearms...there was even a mail fraud charge against one of the old timers along with an assortment of domestic disputes. I'd spent plenty of time with criminals, but I'd never seen such a comprehensive list of offenses before.

  I realized that it was time to get ready for my appointment I'd made at the salon that Tombley's guy had recommended. I looked at myself in the mirror before I left, and I hoped that they wouldn't make me look just awful. I told myself that Moses had nothing to do with my wanting to look halfway decent. I couldn't quite convince myself.

  "We certainly have our work cut out for us, don't we?"

  I smiled and shrugged my shoulders at the man who faced me, hands on his narrow hips, and a thoughtful frown on his perfect face that had clearly benefitted from excellent skin care. Wait a minute...was he wearing eyeliner?

  Hand thrust forward, he walked toward me and waved one of the women over as well. "Ben. I'm going to have the dubious pleasure of turning your gorgeous cut and color into something a little...well..trashier." He shook my hand and put an arm around the tiny elf-like girl who'd joined us. "Moira's gonna tart up your makeup. We'll have you looking like a biker chick in no time."

  I shook Ben's hand and stood there while he walked all the way around me and used both hands to pick up my long, thick hair and feel its texture and weight.

  He came back around to face me. "The good news is that your hair's healthy and thick, so it'll probably survive what we're going to do to it."

  My eyes must have widened in alarm.

  "It's only hair, and even if it's a little damaged, it'll grow back. You any good with makeup?"

  I was stunned speechless and I just shrugged again.

  "No worries," Moira said, putting a reassuring and tiny hand on my arm. "I'll teach you a few tricks. The good thing is that you don't exactly need a light touch for your new look. The blacker, the heavier, and the bolder, the better. It's actually kind of fun."

  Her bubbly enthusiasm perked me up a little. "Okay, folks. I'm in your hands. Let's do it."

  Ben walked me to the shampoo station. "Don't tell me a thing about why you need your new look. I handle special assignments like yours, but I don't want to know any details." He looked at me and laid his hand on his perfectly stubbled jaw. "I can't have this pretty face messed up, can I?"

  I couldn't help but laugh as he got started washing and conditioning my hair.

  "I'm thinking heavy highlights -- a little too blond and a little grown out. That okay?"

  "You're the expert," I answered. "I just want it back to normal before I have to go see my regular stylist. He'll boot me out of the salon if he sees what you're going to do to his work."

  "Oh?" Ben asked theatrically. "A prima donna, is he?"

  "A bit," I laughed. "But he's good."

  "Clearly," Ben agreed. "Your color's lovely. He knows not to do too much. You're beautifully brightened up without looking overdone. Pretty much the opposite of what you're about to look like."

  Since we couldn't really do much in the way of chit-chat, I flipped through a few issues of People magazine while Ben filled my head with foils. After a few eye watering minutes under the dryer, he removed them, rinsed my hair, and led me to his chair.

  "Wow." I said, apprehensively. "That's really blonde, and that's a lot of dark roots. You sure about this?"

  Ben stood behind me and looked at me in the mirror. "Max, you're not gonna like the way you look when you leave. But it's the look you're supposed to have."

  I was silent as he trimmed my hair, giving me slightly uneven long layers and heavier bangs than I'd ever wear. He dried my hair, teased it, and used a week's worth of hairspray.

  "Jesus," I said as I stared at my reflection. "I hate it."

  Ben looked at me and was clearly preparing to justify his work.

  "It's perfect," I told him. "Thanks. I'm looking forward to having you un-do all your hard work as soon as possible."

  He breathed a sigh of relief. "Will do, honey. It's Moira's turn now. Come see me when you're all finished."

  Ben had pointed out Moira across the room, and she waved me toward her station. I sat down, still not used to the reflection that looked back at me.

  "So the blonde is kinda fun, huh?" Moira asked cheerfully. "Do you usually wear makeup?" She asked.

  "I usually wear a little for work and a little more when I go out. I came bare-faced today since I knew we'd be doing a whole new look."

  "Well you don't need much since you're young and pretty."

  I typically wasn't a fan of empty flattery, but given what I saw in the mirror, I was going to take it any way I could get it today. "I'm not that far away from thirty," I told her, the apprehension obvious in my voice.

  "You're not there yet," she told me with a smile. "Let's get started."

  She worked over my entire face, and she'd opened fresh containers of everything she used so that I could take the makeup with me. From poor quality foundation that was a shade too light to cheap, heavy black eyeliner, she filled my head with tips and tricks to make myself look less prosperous and healthy.

  "Just remember," she finished up. "Foundation too light and no concealer for those dark circles, and you're sure to look like you've been partying all night. Oh -- and there's nothing we can do about your teeth that won't be permanent. Drink coffee, and don't whiten them again until you're ready to go back to your original look."

  I looked at myself and I was both delighted and horrified. She and Ben had done a magnificent job. I looked tired, cheap, and like I was trying too hard. It was
absolutely perfect. Ben approved and sent me out the door with air kisses in the direction of both cheeks.

  As I headed out the door I checked the time and was surprised to see that the hair and makeup had taken a little longer than I'd expected. It was already three o'clock, and I was about fifteen minutes away from home. I realized that I didn't have any way to get in touch with Moses, so I figured that my best bet was just to hurry. I hoped he wouldn't be too pissed that I was late.

  I pulled into the parking garage and saw a Harley Davidson, but it wasn't the one Moses had ridden the night before. I wasn't sure if perhaps he had another bike, so I parked and hurried upstairs. When I saw him leaning against my front door, I could hardly catch my breath. Good God, he was spectacular. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt that fit him perfectly, skimming over his biceps in a way that concealed very little. His black vest with all of the biker patches looked like it could probably stand up on its own -- like he wore it every waking moment -- and he wore what looked like the same jeans and boots he'd had on the night before.

  "I'm sorry I'm late. The salon took longer than I thought it would."

  Moses looked me up and down, taking in my casual tee and yoga pants and stopping when he got to my hair and makeup. "Well, you sure look different. You're dressed for the gym, but your makeup looks like you're ready to pick up a biker."

  "Well, that's where you come in, my dear. Let me get inside and change, and you can help me pick out the rest of the getup."

  Moses didn't move very far, just stepped back enough that I could barely fit inside the door without brushing up against him. I had the feeling that he was testing me -- unsure of whether or not I could handle this case -- and I decided that I'd just let him carry on. I planned to use our time together to feel him out as well, since I had some serious concern after reading about the rest of the Savage Sons. If Moses was going to be all that stood between me and the criminals he lived with, I needed to be able to trust him. I wasn't quite there yet.

  He followed me inside and closed and locked the door.

  "You're welcome to have a seat. Let me get changed, and I'll be ready shortly."

  "Take your time," he said as he walked over to the back door and looked out onto the balcony. "Any beer in that fridge?"

  I was proud of myself for not rolling my eyes. "Help yourself," I called out as I walked down the hall, and shut the bedroom door behind me.

  "What does one wear to go buy biker clothes?" I wondered aloud as I looked at the clothes neatly hanging in my closet. I peeled off my yoga pants, shucked my tee, and took off my sports bra, throwing them in the dirty clothes hamper. I figured casual and nondescript would be my best bet, so I pulled on a boring nude bra that would be invisible beneath any style of top, and I slipped my jeans on over boring nude underwear. I grabbed a dark gray long-sleeved t-shirt and my North Face jacket since I knew that the bike ride might get cold in the evening. Once I was dressed, I looked in the mirror and realized that I really did need new clothes. With the hair and makeup, I looked like a cross between a chick in a heavy metal video and a soccer mom. Laughing at my conclusion, I headed out to find Moses.

  "Ready?" I asked as I enjoyed the view of him from behind as he stood on the balcony and took a sip of a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

  "Yup," he answered, coming inside and heading toward the kitchen trash can with his empty beer bottle.

  "Recycling in is the laundry room." I pointed toward the door and ignored him as he rolled his eyes at me.

  "Bikers ain't green, sugar," he pointed out to me as he followed my instructions.

  "Well, I ain't a biker, sugar," I said sweetly.

  "No shit."

  We headed down to the parking garage to the bike I'd seen earlier. I was proud of myself for having noticed that it was a different bike, and I thought I'd show off a little.

  "So you have two motorcycles?"

  "We call 'em bikes. And I have three. The one I rode last night doesn't fit two comfortably, so I brought my Low Rider 'cause it has room for you on the back. There are two important things you need to know. First, hang on tight and don't make any sudden moves, and second, don't touch the engine or the tailpipes. They get hot and will burn the shit outta you."

  I studied the bike like I understood what I was looking at. "Fair enough."

  Moses showed me where I'd put my feet when I was up on the bike and explained how he wanted me to get on and off.

  "Ready?"

  "How hard can it be?" I asked with a wink, stepping toward him as he beckoned.

  He picked up the helmet that he'd brought for me to wear, and shook his head as I reached out for it.

  "Let me. I want to make sure it's adjusted right. Don't want anything to happen to you on my watch."

  He settled the helmet on my head and started tightening the straps that held it in place. I hadn't stood quite so close to him before, and I nearly flinched when his fingers brushed the side of my face. He took my chin and turned it so that he could adjust the fit behind my ears, and when I looked up at him, I realized just how tall he was. I had on my favorite Doc Marten boots which added about two inches to my 5'10" frame, and I still had to look up at the man. I stepped back as quickly as I could when he'd finished, flustered by having been so close to him. When I realized that I was thinking about what he'd look like if he took off his fitted black shirt, I knew I had to get myself under control.

  I had to think of something to say. "Jeff told me that you'd reviewed my cover. We set on the background?"

  "Yeah. You've lived in Denver for about six months, and we met in a bar a couple of months ago. You've moved around a lot -- small towns all over the southwest, and you've kicked a bad crank habit. You're clean now, but you still like to drink. Your shitty ex-boyfriend has made you a little cagey about your past." Moses thought for a minute. "That cover it?"

  I was impressed. "Pretty much. I'm outta work too. Quit my last job 'cause the owner of the bar was a fuckin' pig. I'm lookin' for another gig, but I may just settle for being your old lady as long as you'll take care of me."

  Moses looked surprised as the hard edge that had entered my voice. "Pretty good," he said with grudging approval. "We'll see how you hold up."

  "Oh, I'll hold up, Moses. Both of our lives depend on it."

  "We'll see," he repeated. "We're gonna hit a few places tonight where people know me. I'm gonna try to get us out pretty quickly, but you're gonna meet some folks who might stare you down. I've been hinting around that I may be ready to make my new girl my old lady, and that's news 'round here."

  "Oh. My. God."

  "What?" Moses looked perplexed.

  "I'm gonna have jealous club whores on my case?"

  "You might. I'm not gonna lie. You're gonna have to handle it if this is going to work."

  "Okay," I said. "Don't guess I have much of a choice."

  "It'll be okay. If I tell folks you're hands-off, they'll listen."

  I rolled my eyes.

  Moses grabbed both of my arms, tight, but not painfully. "Don't fuck around with these people for fun, Max. Follow my lead, and you'll be just fine. You think you can look down your rich girl nose and these people won't stab you in the back, then you're a fool."

  I felt like I couldn't breathe with Moses that close to me, so I stepped back, breaking his hold on me. "I'll follow. Don't worry. I know what's at stake."

  "Good." He put on his own helmet. "Let's roll."

  Chapter 8

  Moses

  April 2, 2013

  I wasn't used to feeling uncertain, and I fucking hated it. So far, Max seemed to be pretty solid. She was gonna fit in just fine with the new hair and shit, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. We were heading out for what could be a disaster. I'd talked about the new chick I was seeing, but tonight was the start on the massive web of lies I was about to start telling the men I'd trusted with my life. The men I'd lived with, gotten drunk with, gotten rich with, whored with. They were my family, and tonight was
a big step toward betraying them. I believed that I was doing the right thing, but I had to call it what it was. It was a betrayal.

  The day I'd finally called the FBI had started this, though, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it at this point.

  "Let's roll," I told her as I straddled my bike.

  I had to give her credit. She'd listened to how I'd told her to get on the bike, and I realized that it was a good thing we were starting a little earlier than we'd planned on the bike training. A chick can't ride on the back of your bike if she's afraid to touch you, and Max handled me like she was worried that I was gonna bite her. I let her get settled without a word, and I pulled out of the space slowly to let her get used to the feeling. She settled in a little as we rolled down the ramps of the garage, and I could feel her instinctively leaning with me as I made the turns. That was a good sign.

  A whole different kind of sign was the way my body was reacting to the woman pressed against my back. To be honest, I have no idea how many women I've been with, and I don't even remember half of the times I'd been drunk enough to fuck a girl and roll out as soon as I was finished. I hadn't always been very picky, but if you'd put a lineup in front of me, I'd probably had picked the tiniest chick with the nicest ass and the biggest tits. I was pretty simple. Max was a whole lotta something else though. She was nearly as tall as I was, for shit's sake, and I was surprised to find that a turn-on. She was solid, and I bet there were some muscles beneath the clothes she wore that covered her all up. I think it was the way she moved -- confident and athletic, like she didn't expect anyone to give her a hard time, and she wouldn't tolerate it if they did.

  As hard as I tried not to think about what she'd look like naked, I had to reach down and adjust myself inside my jeans as I stiffened at the feeling of her tits on my back when I pulled out onto the highway. Her thighs tightened against my hips, and I was glad I'd planned a bit of a ride 'cause there was no way I was gonna get off my bike with a huge hard on for all the world to see. I'd had enough girls on the back of my bikes that I knew their little ploys when they were working on getting laid. If I had to guess though, I'd say that Max was just acting by instinct, hanging on to be safe, rather than trying to lure me into bed.