by Cathryn Cade
Sheena gave a theatrical start, as if she’d just seen Bouncer. She stopped, put a hand to her heart and shook her head once, then tilted it to one side.
“‘Oh, is it really you?’“ Kit mimicked under her breath. “‘My big, mulleted, beer-belly man?’“
Remi snorted, and then coughed to cover it up.
“‘Hey, bitch,’“ Kit went on, lowering her voice to a growl. “‘Lookin’ good for a cheating ho. Remind me, did I pay for those basketball tits?’’’
Keys tightened his arm on her waist, his chest quivering. “Enough. You make me and Remington lose it, we’ll blow the whole thing.”
She caught Remi’s eye and the two of them snickered.
“Uh-oh,” Jack said at Keys’ elbow. “I think we got trouble of a different breed.”
Bouncer wasn’t the only one who’d spotted Sheena. Webb was standing at the grill, big barbecue tongs suspended in his hand. The aging biker was staring at Sheena, his mouth open and eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights.
At the end of the buffet table, Velvet was looking from her husband to the new arrival. Keys watched the skinny blonde stiffen, her stance going tight and fierce as a professional wrestler.
“You!” she called to Sheena, her strident voice cutting through the hubbub of voices and country music. “You’ve got some nerve, showing up here with families and decent people.”
“Oh, shit.” Kit clutched Keys cut. “This is not gonna be good.”
“Oh, yeah it is,” Keys said. “Biker mama drama—what’s not to like?”
Lindi grabbed Jack’s arm as Velvet started around the end of the buffet. “Jack, do something.”
“Oh, hell no,” the big biker said. “I’d sooner get between two mama grizzlies.”
Sheena set her hands on her hips and said something that none of them could hear. But Velvet heard and it pissed her off even more. Smooth as a ball player headed for the end zone, she scooped up a big bowl of something pale and creamy—looked like jello-whipped cream salad to Keys—and hocked it straight at Sheena.
There was a collective gasp—mostly of glee, it must be said—from the onlookers as the big bowl and its contents sailed through the air. It struck Sheena full on.
White fluff splattered her from head to toe, spraying out past her to land on those nearby as well. They ducked away, beer and drinks flying, shouts going up.
There was one moment of dead silence, and then Sheena let out a muffled shriek of rage and went for Velvet. The two women met in a tussle of flying arms, hair pulling, scratching and kicking feet.
Sheena weighed more, so she drove Velvet back against the food table, which rocked dangerously. The men closest dove to steady the loaded table.
Velvet had Sheena by the hair, but the redhead got one arm free, grabbed another bowl and upended it on Velvet’s platinum head.
“Damn,” Jack said. “I think that was the coleslaw.”
Keys winced, knowing Jack loved that shit. “Hope they don’t make it to the potato salad.”
Webb finally got into motion. He hauled his kicking, shrieking, nearly unrecognizable wife off of Sheena and carried her away under his arm, wincing once as her flailing arm caught him in the face. Laughing and hooting, everyone who had crowded in to watch gave way, some calling congratulations to Velvet.
Sheena stood, arms out, peering down at her ruined outfit. Bouncer stood stock-still, beer in hand, mouth open as it had been during the fight.
She wailed something, and he shrugged and took another drink of his beer, then finally jerked his head toward the clubhouse. She followed him away, looking like a caricature from a slapstick comedy. A wave of laughter followed her.
“Damn,” Remi said appreciatively. “Best use of jello salad ever!”
Keys threw back his head and laughed. Kit and Remi, Jack and Lindi joined in, as did everyone nearby.
Then someone grabbed a garbage can, someone else found a shovel, they cleaned up the worst of the mess and everyone trooped through the supper line. More beer was drunk, the men passed various bottles around. The kids went home to bed and family time was over.
Someone turned the music up. A few of the guys wandered off to smoke a joint. The sun went down, and the younger guys shot off some early fireworks. A fight broke out between two drunk bikers and was quelled in a hurry when knives came out.
Couples disappeared into the darkness to reappear again, disheveled and smiling. Some didn’t bother to disappear and no one minded.
A county sheriff’s vehicle cruised by and two burly deputies spoke to Stick, then went on their way. Another fight broke out, this one culminating in a biker’s broken nose, his opponent losing some teeth.
It was a typical party at the Flyers’ club house.
Keys, Kit and Remi partied with Jack and Lindi and the others until Bouncer and Sheena reappeared, both clean and damp as if they’d showered and changed, among other things. Bouncer looked like a man who’d gotten him some.
Keys’ body tightened with anticipation. “All right,” he announced, handing his beer to Kit and his cut to Remi. “It’s time.”
“Oh, my God,” Kit said. “Give me a kiss, biker sensei. For luck.”
He grabbed her, planted a wet, hot one on her, and set her back into Remi’s arms, grinning savagely at both of them. “Back in a few.”
Remi gave him a chin lift, his dark eyes reflecting the firelight and the same savagery Keys felt. “Break his face for us, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” Keys cocked his head left, then right to loosen up, and prowled out into the open before Bouncer and Sheena, who was clinging to him like a limpet, all smiles now that she was back in the fold.
Bouncer watched Keys approach, and his face went hard, his gaze losing its lazy glow.
“Bounce,” Keys called, pitching his voice to be heard through the loud music and raucous partying around them. “Looks like you got your old lady back, huh? Funny thing is, only a few days back, you were chasin’ after mine.”
“Fuck off!” Bouncer spit in the gravel between them.
Sheena glared at Keys, giving him a ‘what the hell?’ look. He ignored her. Her spraying poison on Kit and her mom meant he didn’t mind doing the same to her.
The voices around them quieted as Flyers jockeyed into a loose ring around the two men and Sheena.
“And when I say chasin’ after,” Keys called, his voice hard, “I mean full-on stalker shit. Coming to Jack’s woman’s café and trying to scare her into telling you where my woman was. Two low-life junkies showin’ up at my place to try and grab her. Bullyin’ her mom into giving you access to her phone, then sending fucked up threatening messages on it.”
The circle of bikers and their women were silent, the atmosphere swelling with dark anticipation.
Bouncer’s head went back. “What the fuck? I never sent any guys to your place. That ain’t how I roll, and you can eat my knuckles for sayin’ it is, Younger.”
The strange part here was, Keys believed the other biker. But if he hadn’t sent them, who had?
Then Bouncer was shoving Sheena aside and stalking forward. “Also, Sheena told me all the shit you pumped in her ear. How you threatened her if she didn’t come after me.”
“Never happened,” Keys said flatly. “She’s lyin’ about that. I’ve never threatened a woman—unlike you.”
“Either way, I’ve had it with you,” Bouncer sneered. “Gonna teach you a lesson.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Keys agreed.
They met in the center of the open space, Bouncer grabbing at Keys like a bear. But Keys knew if he let the other man get hold of him with his big arms, he was gonna end up with cracked ribs or worse. Dancing left, he jabbed at Bouncer with his right fist, let him evade that one and drove in hard with his left. He hit the biker square in his beefy face, and felt cartilage crunch.
“That’s for scarin’ my woman,” he growled.
Bouncer’s head snapped back, but he kept coming. With
blood streaming down his face, eyes wild, he whacked Keys on his chest, nearly driving the air out of him, then tried to stomp on Keys’ foot.
Keys absorbed the body blow by rolling away to the right, then came all the way around and back with his right foot, taking Bouncer in the solar plexus with his motorcycle boot. His kick hit with a solid whump, and Bouncer’s eyes bugged, mouth flew open and arms flailed as he absorbed the blow. He staggered backward, righted himself and glowered at Keys from under his brows.
Keys hit him one last time with his open hand on the side of the man’s head. “And that,” Keys added, breathing hard, “Was for disrespecting her mama.”
Bouncer went down without another sound, hitting the gravel with a meaty thud.
There was silence for a moment, broken only by the rev of a steel guitar as another song began on the sound system.
Then Sheena let out a shriek. “You bastard, Keys! You messed him up bad—now what am I gonna do?”
She came after Keys with her hands clawed, face livid with rage. Keys, who was just beginning to feel the hit he’d taken from Bouncer and the pain in his left fist, raised his right hand to fend her off.
Then a red-headed whirlwind attacked from his other side.
“Hey!” Kit yelled to Sheena. “You leave my man alone!”
She grabbed Sheena by her wet hair and yanked her away from Keys. Then she slapped the woman hard across the face. Sheena staggered back.
Kit stood in front of Keys, panting. “You want some more of this, you sleazy, name-calling bitch?” she called. “C’mon. Keys won’t hit a woman, but I will.”
Sheena snarled and started for her, but Deni ran forward beside her daughter, shoving Sheena back hard. “Oh, no you don’t, Sheena. You wanna fight, you’ll take on both of the Weeks girls.”
“And me!” Lindi added, moving in on Kit’s other side. Whoa, Jack’s little blonde had some fire too.
“And I ain’t done yet, either.” Velvet stepped in, cleaned up some and wearing too-big clothing, but still feisty. “We don’t need you comin’ back here and starting more trouble again, Sheena. Best you get back where you came from while you still can.”
Sheena tossed her head, and looked behind her, no doubt expecting to see some of her former minions at her back. But the other women all ignored her, or shook their heads as if to say ‘not their fight’ and huddled back beside their men.
Keys had recovered—somewhat—from the shock of witnessing his gorgeous, lush woman go into full biker babe action. Now he was just enjoying himself.
In fact, he could not recall ever having so much fuckin’ fun at any previous biker function. He turned, exchanged grins with Jack and Remi, and then moved forward to slide his arms around both Kit and her mother.
“Sheena,” he said. “I think you’re a bit out-gunned here. So why don’t you go on back to your motel and sleep it off? Re-think your options here.”
“Better yet, I’ll tell you what they are,” Stick added, his deep, cold voice cutting through the crowd. The tall, brawny, bearded Flyers’ president stepped forward from his vantage point, and faced Sheena, who for the first time looked frightened. “Since you came back, things have been happening that remind me too much of how it was when you were here before, Sheena. Brothers against brother, someone hiring men to go after another woman—-it’s all too familiar.”
Keys felt as if he’d just taken another hit, this one to the gut.
“The two who tried to grab Kit—that was her doing?” He stared at the woman with new disgust. “Of course it was. Fuck, I knew it wasn’t Bouncer’s style to hire guys outside the club to do his dirty work.”
Sheena shook her head, her gaze darting from Stick to him and back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, either of you. I just want to be a part of the club again, that’s all. I came back for Bounce.”
“Yeah, because one of your bitches reported that he had his sights on a young, gorgeous babe that could take your place,” Keys retorted. “One you knew he’d make his old lady, unlike all the club whores he’d been partying with. And once she was in, your chances would be gone.”
He spat in the gravel between them, telling her exactly what he thought of her.
Sheena’s face contorted with rage. “I just wanted to get back what I had,” she called, flinging out her hands. “It’s so easy for you, the big men. You don’t know what it’s like to smile and smile and beg dirty, beer-soaked bikers to do whatever they want to you, pretend you love every minute of it—just to get a little money, to have nice things. So yeah, I used my brains. Bitches have them, you men forget that we’re not just available pussy.”
“You threw away what you had,” Stick said. “So don’t expect anyone here to feel sorry for your loss. Now you’re done.”
He beckoned. “Moke, Webb. Escort her out to the highway, and make sure she heads east or west—don’t care which direction, as long as it’s away from here.”
“No!” she shrieked. “No, no! I won’t go! Bouncer, wake up! Help me.”
Stick ignored her, bending to Bouncer. “Someone help me get him inside.”
The brothers surged to help, and two of them bore their fallen brother away to be cared for. Moke grabbed the keening Sheena by one arm, and Webb followed as he dragged her around the building toward her car.
The party revved back up again. Keys had his hand shaken, his back slapped, and was congratulated on his win and his choice of old lady.
“Kit,” Rocker told her, “I always knew you were class, but I never knew you were so feisty.”
He mimed a fierce stance with his hands clawed, and said in a high falsetto, ‘You want some of this, bitch? Come an’ get it!’
Those crowded around, bikers and women alike, roared with laughter. Kit beamed, held up her fresh beer and took a bow, then snuggled close to Keys’ side again.
“I got plenty of feisty left, too,” she said, “If I catch any other bitches around my man!”
Keys hauled her close for a deep, wet kiss, then looked to Remi. “All right, let’s take this party home. If I can’t have any other bitches, the one I got is gonna have to give it to me.”
Someone whistled, and Deni waved from Bullet’s side. “You kids go have fun!”
“That we will,” Keys promised.
Out front, he mounted his Harley, Kit donned her helmet and put her arms around his waist, and with Remi beside them, they rolled out onto the county road and headed east toward home and his kind of fun--the three of them in his bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The day after the party, Keys presented Kit with a gift, the magnitude of which stole her breath and made her want to scream and jump up and down—she did both.
He and Remi invited her outside the shop. The Indian sat there, gleaming in the sun in all its red, gold and chrome glory. Her helmet hung over one handlebar.
“Babe,” Keys said, with a wave of his hand. “She’s yours.”
Kit stared, her mouth open. She could hardly breathe, but now it was joy swelling inside her. “Are you sure?” she managed. “For me?”
“You kidding?” Keys asked. “You proved last night you’re a total biker babe.”
“Yeah,” Remi added. “So now you got two red Indians.”
Keys and Kit both groaned at this terrible joke.
Kit turned to her beautiful new wheels. Then she did a total cheerleader move, leaping into the air and screaming out loud, her hair flying around her.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe it. I’m so happy. Oh, thanks, you guys.” She flung herself at Keys for a kiss, then gave Remi the same treatment.
“But you’ll have to learn to ride it,” Keys pointed out.
She gave him wide eyes. “I’ll have you know I can ride my girl. I’ve been taught by the best—the older guys at the Flyers’ club house. I’ve never been on the interstate, but I’ve ridden the back roads all around the Heights.”
“Well, you can prove that, and then you’ll get to take her
out.”
“Okay. Oh, take a picture of me, please? I wanna show Lindi and Sara. And my mom.”
She handed her phone to Remi and mounted the bike, wriggling her bottom on the smooth leather seat and grasping the handlebars, not caring that the chrome and leather were hot from the summer sun. She sucked in her tummy, thrust out her chest and smiled. Remi took several photos, and the two men put their head together to admire them.
“Told you I’d get you on the back of a bike to pose for me,” Keys said to her. “So how about some more in your bikini?”
She sighed, stroking the engine housing. “For this ride? I’ll pose any way you want, biker man.”
Both men stared at her, and then Keys started toward her, wicked purpose in his eyes. “Mama, you can’t be sayin’ shit like that without payback.”
He took her by the hand and pulled her into the shop. Remi wheeled the bike inside and locked the door behind them. It being Sunday, the builders weren’t there.
“Now,” Keys drawled, “Strip, Red. And I’ll show you some poses I wanna see.”
He did. And then he and Remi showed their appreciation for how sexy she looked draped naked over the bike.
Then the three of them leathered up, and took the bikes for a ride on the lake road. Where Kit smiled so much she got bugs in her teeth. She spat out an unfortunate bee, grimaced, and flipped down the face screen on her helmet.
* * *
“Keys,” Remi called, walking into the shop a day later. “You in here?”
Keys stepped out from behind the old pickup, shoving a mask up on his forehead. He wore coveralls, and held a power sander. “I’m here. What’s up?”
Remi threaded his way through the shop to him. It was three thirty, and he was off work for the afternoon.
“Someone brought a Spokesman Review in with them this morning,” he said, waving a section of newspaper. “Read this.”
He handed the paper to Keys, and then waited, leaning on a toolbox, while Keys read aloud.
‘A single car accident west of Spokane early Sunday morning claimed the life of a Tri-Cities woman. Sheena Bucks was driving west on I-90 near the Clear Lake exit when she apparently failed to negotiate a curve. Her vehicle, a late model Firebird, left the highway and rolled several times before catching fire. Buck, who was not wearing a seat-belt, was ejected and died on impact. Alcohol is suspected as a factor in the fatality.’