by Cathryn Cade
Keys lowered the paper, and his gaze met Remi’s.
“You think—” Remi began.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Keys said firmly. “And neither do you, get me?”
Remi shrugged. “Okay. Should I tell Kit?”
“Yeah. She’ll find out, probably rather sooner than later.”
But when she arrived back from a trip to town, she already knew, having spoken to Deni on the phone.
Kit hugged and kissed both her men, and accepted a cold beer from Remi, then sat down in the shade between them outside the shop.
“You know what’s sad?” she asked. “I wonder if there’s anyone who’ll even miss her.”
“Don’t think Bouncer will, after her stunt at the party,” Keys said. “As for anyone else, who knows? She treated everyone the way she did him, you and the Flyers … probably not.”
The three of them were quiet for a moment, and then moved on to discussing the house construction.
* * *
The last few weeks of June settled in over Coeur d’Alene Lake, hot and dry and clear. Perfect weather for vacationers to the little resort town and the locals to spend time outdoors. The temps soared into the high 80s during the afternoon and cooled to a comfortable 65 at night.
The lake warmed to swimming temperatures, delighting local residents and tourists. Powerboats and jet skis zoomed past out on the lake at all hours of the day, kayakers and paddle-boarders plied the shallower waters near the shore.
The BeeHive Café buzzed as word spread about the great nouveau American fare and friendly, hometown atmosphere at the little lake shore café. Remi and Lindi worked hard, and Remi’s friend Carla expanded her hours to nearly full time so Lindi could cut her own hours a little.
Carla, a plump, dark-haired woman with short hair and an infectious laugh, became part of the crew at the BeeHive. Lindi and the customers liked her as well as Remi did.
And now that Kit was free to come and go, she dropped into the BeeHive often. When she saw Carla joking with Remi, treating him like a pesky younger brother, Kit realized she had nothing to be jealous of and relaxed about them spending all those hours together.
Jack was busy with plans for the supper club he planned to put in on the property next door to the BeeHive. Construction on Stingers was set to begin in August, after county inspections of the plans were approved. Remi was involved in planning the kitchen, something he was excited about. He confided to Kit and Keys that he would likely end up shifting to work there, hoping eventually to manage it for Jack. They both thought he would excel at this, and told him so.
Deni called Kit one evening and informed her she was moving to the Tri-Cities with Bullet, who had been coming up every weekend to see her. He had a double-wide, she informed Kit proudly, and was going to allow Deni to do some redecorating. Kit hoped the biker liked glitz.
Bullet brought Deni out for a last lunch at the BeeHive, and Kit and Keys met them there. By the end of the lunch, Kit had an unaccustomed feeling of hope for her mom. Bullet had a warm gleam in his faded eyes when he looked at Deni, and he waited until she announced that they really should be going before rising from their booth.
As Bullet was shaking hands with Keys, Deni pulled Kit aside. “Now, baby girl, you know I love Keys to death. But if things don’t work out with you, you can always come to me and Bullet. He’s got a spare room. Of course you’d have to share space with his Harley memorabilia, but it’s there if you need it.
Kit hugged her mom. “Thanks, mama. But you know what? I think it’s best if Bullet has you all to himself. So if I ever move out,” which she really did not even want to think about--! “It’ll be to a little apartment around here. I have my own wheels now, so I can get a job and be just fine.”
Kit and Keys and Remi watched them ride away on Bullet’s Harley. “I think this time might work out for her,” she said. “I hope so.”
“Bullet’s a good man,” Keys said. “And he’s no tom cat. Believe he just wants a pretty woman to fuss over him as he gets older, so I don’t think he’ll be out raisin’ hell and cheating on her.”
“And your mom does fuss over him,” Remi added, grinning. “Thought she was gonna offer to cut his burger up for him.”
Kit laughed. “Yep, she takes care of her men.”
“How ‘bout you?” Remi asked, a gleam in his eye. “Do you take care of your men?”
She rolled her eyes at both of them. “In many ways, yeah. But you can cut your own damn burgers.”
* * *
Keys took on three projects in the shop; a classic roadster, a 70’s pickup truck and a 60’s Volkswagen Beetle being converted to a street rod. He spread his time between the vehicles, and contracted with a local woman who did upholstery of all kinds to do the interior leather-work.
The roadster rolled out first, a deep plum with black trim and upholstery, and white-walled tires, the engine purring like the tuned-up predator it was. The owner, a local dentist, beamed and shook Keys’ hand for a long time.
“Absolutely perfect,” he enthused. “Keys, if you want it, you’ve got free dental care for life--or until I retire.”
Keys grinned. “May just take you up on that. Just be sure Younger Restorations is on your signs for the Car d’Alene.”
“You bet I will. I’ll see you there.”
He drove away, very slowly because of the gravel on the drive, and Keys stood looking after him. Kit, who had taken pictures of the event, did a fist pump. “Awesome! You should put these photos on your website.”
Keys nodded. “Babe, I’m appointing you the web-mistress for the shop, so you put ‘em up. We’ll add that to your wages.”
Kit stared at him, delight and fear warring inside her. “Are you sure? That’s a big responsibility.” He had a well-crafted site, so it wasn’t hard to use, but still ...
He gave her a look. “The site’s easy to load shit into. You’re good at spreadsheets, you’ll get good at that too. Now, you wanna do it, or not?”
“I guess so,” she agreed, although she fiddled her phone nervously between her hands. “Your books are easy-peasy, now that I’ve got them automated with the bank.”
“See what I mean? You got skills. You’re ready to tell Lindi you wanna take over the BeeHive accounts too.”
“What if I screw up?”
“What if you do? The bank will damn sure let you know if you short them. And don’t you double-check all your figures before you finalize?”
“I triple-check,” she said fervently. And she had all his invoices and receipts carefully filed in brand-new labeled folders now too, so nothing could be misplaced.
He shrugged. “There you have it. My style is, toss it on the desk and wait till it’s hip-deep before I wade in. So you’re worth every penny to me, and you will be to Lindi too. And probably Jack, when his supper club opens.”
She nodded, pride straightening her shoulders. “You’re right. I am good at it, and I’m careful. And I’ll learn to be good at your website too.”
He pulled her in for a kiss, and patted her ass. “I have no doubt. Now why don’t you run into town and deposit that.” He held up a check and Kit’s eyes widened when she saw the amount on it. “Holy crap! He paid you that much? I have to get this to the bank right away.”
“Knock yourself out, Red. Go shopping too, and get somethin’ gorgeous and sexy. I’m takin’ you and Remi out to dinner to celebrate.”
* * *
Keys’ house progressed swiftly. The siding went up, a soft grey like the shop, the windows were placed, the roofing laid, electricity and plumbing worked in. The sheet-rockers came and went, giving way to the flooring specialists who laid oak flooring and sturdy, plush carpet in soft earth tones a shade darker than the walls.
Kit watched as Remi helped plan a big kitchen with room to cook and eat that flowed out onto a spacious deck on the shady north side of the house. She looked over color samples with the guys, and let them chivvy her into choosing her favorite, then w
atched with awe as her choice of counter-tops, a mellow grey-green granite, were set in place along with Remi’s sand-hued backsplash and tile work.
She shopped with them for a Cali king-sized bed for the master bedroom, and for bedroom furnishings. Keys asked her to choose a comforter, and Kit froze. There were so many colors.
“Which ones do you like?” she asked.
He gave her an exasperated look, and then pointed at black. Kit winced. Geez, that would look terrible with the soft beige walls.
“Kit, choose one,” he growled, “Or honest to God, we’re walkin’ out of here with everything black.
“That one,” she said, pointing at a deep coral. “If you like it?”
“I don’t care,” he said. “Pick some sheets. What goes with that?”
They walked out with the comforter, two sets of sheets, one teal and one coral-and-brown plaid, and an assortment of throw pillows that coordinated.
“Jesus, d’you always have this much trouble makin’ up your mind?” he asked her as they walked out to the truck.
“No,” she said defensively. “I like picking out clothes and shoes. But this is for your house. You have to like it, I don’t.”
“You livin’ in it with me?” he asked, tossing the bags in back and opening her door.
She nodded and he mimicked her, his eyes wide. “Then you need to like it too. And since I don’t give a flying fuck, that means you choose.”
He walked around and got in.
“But what if I’d chosen hot pink?” she asked, and then smirked as he gave her a look of sheer disbelief. “Ha, ha,” she said. “Gotcha.”
“Think you’re so smart,” he muttered, grinning. “I’ll tell you one thing, Remi’s shoppin’ with you for the kitchen and bathroom shit, not me.”
Remi chose the brown leather sofas and coordinating chairs for the living room, and the oak dining set and hutch. He and Kit chose sets of kitchen towels, place mats and the like, but Kit didn’t get to pay for anything. She pouted briefly, and then decided to buy the guys each some cool tees or jewelry with her first paycheck instead.
Keys picked out the black leather sectional with recliners built in for the media room, and a big, black-and-white print of a row of motorcycles backed in before a low building. A faded sign over the door read ‘Devil’s Flyers, Heyward, California’. Several bikers lounged about near the bikes. The landscape was sunbaked, with a few trees and other buildings in the background.
He stood back, nodded with satisfaction. “That’s my dad’s chapter of the Flyers in Cali,” he told Remi and Kit. “Where I grew up.”
Remi nodded. “Good memories, yeah?”
“Yep.”
“And you got to buy something black,” Kit said, grinning at him. “So you should be even happier.”
He looked around. “Could use some color in this room, huh? That’s on you and her, Remington. I don’t shop for any more home shit. You pick, I pay.”
“I can buy some things too,” she and Remi both said at the same time. They both frowned at Keys.
Keys shook his head. “You wanna know who’s paying for this house? Darrell Gaspard. He owed me and Jack big money, but when we found his stash, there was extra. We considered it profit, and payback for havin’ to put up with his shit.’
‘So, you two wanna contribute, we’ll work somethin’ out. But you’re both getting your feet under you, and for now, I want your paychecks going into savings, 401Ks, shit like that.”
“You have a 401K?” Kit asked him, fascinated by the novelty of being lectured about savings by a biker man.
“Nope, I got this land and the business. But I have money in the bank, too. And so should you.”
Remi crossed his arms and scowled. “Well, I have a bank account. I also get a paycheck, and I’m contributing to this household, as long as I’m living in it.”
“Me too,” Kit insisted.
Keys shrugged. “All right, we’ll discuss and work something out. Pro-rate it by wages, how’s that?”
They both nodded. “You’re both proud,” he muttered. “I need to have a care for that.”
The three of them moved into the house before it was technically ‘finished’, but they were all so glad to be out of the shop none of them cared about a few missing light fixtures. The day the washer and dryer became functional Kit nearly kissed the installers. She put a load of clothing in, and then stood there, enjoying the sound of warm water rushing in to the machine, and then the sound of agitation, the clean scent of detergent.
Keys laughed at her, and hauled her off with him and Remi to inaugurate the new master bathroom shower. It was huge, with bench seats and shower heads on two sides—Kit’s idea of shower heaven, especially with two men who wanted to soap her off and then take turns making her come.
Keys and Remi sweet-talked Kit into her new bikini on one of Remi’s days off, and took her down to a local beach that could only be reached by hiking down through the rocks and trees. Since it was the lake, there was sand above the water-line and pebbles below, but these were rounded from being rolled gently by wind waves, so not too bad too walk on.
The three of them played in the water, near the shore as Kit and Remi were both poor swimmers, though Keys swore he would teach them some new strokes so they could swim out with him to the bright buoy in the middle of the small bay.
Remi’s wet skin gleamed in the sun, the exact color of a beautiful brown pebble Kit found. He grinned and brought her a reddish one that matched her hair. They both found a pale grey one for Keys with silver sparkles in it that Remi said were probably mica.
Kit started to turn pink in the sun, despite the sunscreen the guys took turns smoothing on her skin, so she sat in the shade of the tall pines that lined the cove and watched Keys and Remi show off by swinging out high and wide on a rope swing someone had hung.
Then the men wrestled in shoulder-high water. Remi took Keys under and whooped, lifting his arms in triumph with a flashing white smile. He promptly disappeared underwater, and this time Keys came up first, laughing.
Kit dashed into the water and leapt into the battle. Keys dove between her legs from behind, lifted her high out of the water on his shoulders and then fell back with her. Kit shrieked and got a mouthful of water.
No sooner did she have the water swiped from her eyes than the two men pinned her between them and caressed her with their hands in her bikini, Keys pinching and playing her nipples while Remi petted her clit until she came helplessly.
Keys gave her a deep, wet kiss and told her it was time to get home and make her men happy. Since another couple had joined them in the cove, Kit decided doing what she really wanted, which was taking them both by turns right there, was not a good idea even for a bad-ass biker chick. So they went home and got naked in their huge new bed.
Afterward, lying in a happy, damp tangle between them, Kit looked at the big bedroom and sighed happily. “I cannot believe how nice it is to be out of the shop.”
“You sayin’ you like it here?” Keys asked without opening his eyes.
She snorted with laughter. “Uh, yeah.”
“Me too,” Remi said.
“That’s good,” Keys approved. “Now quiet, you two. I need some quick shut-eye before the next round.”
Smiling at each other across his chest, Remi and Kit got quiet.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Keys pulled his phone from the hip pocket of his jeans without looking up from the design he was viewing on his laptop. When his gaze flicked to the screen, his brows flew up. This was an unexpected call.
“‘Lo, Stick,” he answered. “What’s up?”
“Keys,” Stick said, his deep voice rumbling through the phone. “I have a job for you. It’s important.”
Keys groaned silently. He had so much work lined out he was short on sleep. Next week was the Car d’Alene, the area’s classic car & street rod show, and he planned to spend time there, viewing the beautiful cars, trucks and rods that would be co
ming in. He also wanted to drum up more business, and enjoy the street fairs and evening festivities with Remi and Kit.
But Stick wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.
“What can I do?” Keys asked.
“I have a friend of the club who saw some things she shouldn’t have, over in the Tri-Cities. I need you and Jack to help her lie low for a few days.”
“Me and Jack,” Keys repeated. “This means you don’t want any of the Highs doin’ it.” Since the Flyers’ club house was in Airway Heights, they were occasionally referred to affectionately as the Highs.
Stick grunted, corroborating Keys’ suspicions without words. “Got her stashed at Webb’s. How soon can you come and get her?”
“Ah, I assume there’s a reason he can’t take her?”
“There is. When he pulled Velvet out of the fight with Sheena, she got in a lucky hit—broke his nose. He has an infection in his septum.”
“The fuck,” Keys said, wincing. “All right, where you want us to take this gal?”
“Don’t care, just somewhere out of the way. Not your place. They might think of that.”
“Who’s after her?”
“Prairie Rattlers.”
“Shit.” Keys dropped his head. The Prairie Rattlers were One-Percenters, a club that didn’t just skirt the law, they ranged far and wide on whichever the hell side they wanted. Centered in the Tri-Cities, they went to ground on the sprawling central Washington plains when threatened, just like their namesakes. They were known to run drugs, any kind of weapons, and under-age girls.
And after Keys’ own nephew had been driven out of the Spokane area, by Keys himself, he and Jack had speculated that Twig would probably head over and prospect with them. Like attracted to like. Keys had warned Stick about him too, and passed his photo to all the Flyers as trouble with a capital T.
Keys had done his best to mentor the kid after Keys’ sister died, but Twig took after the loser who fathered him. He was rotten, clear through, and had proved it by roughing up Lindi before Jack could get to him and knock him out.