Tough Love (The Nighthawks MC Book 6)

by Bella Knight

  She withdrew to her office, leaving a bemused Bella behind. Bella waited on a customer, copying Numa’s behavior and mannerisms, until Numa popped out to finish the sale.

  When the woman left, Numa laughed. “You could do me,” she said. “Come in and learn my stuff, and you can cover for me if I fall and break my leg like an idiot.”

  Bella did the complex movements needed to slip the baby into the carrier without waking her. She succeeded, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “How do you use this particular register? You’ve got twenty until Nantan swings back.”

  Numa laughed. “No pressure,” she said, and started showing Bella how to run the shop.

  Nantan picked up Bella and the baby, and took them home. The Wolfpack had lots of chatter about their deliveries, most were laughing. They serviced single moms and older people on their food delivery route. Vi had started making soups, once she found out some of them were widows and widowers who didn’t want to cook. There were a few vegan college students, too.

  The Wolfpack debated the college and universities in Las Vegas, comparing them to ones in Reno and all over Arizona. The girls were thinking about staying put, the boys thinking about Reno. Nantan was stunned. He’d had individual conversations with the Wolfpack members, mostly about going to school online. But, they were genuinely making money —they received cuts of the delivery business, the sale of horses rescued and trained, and a daily labor rate. Henry and Numa dug deep for scholarships, and they spent specific time twice a month applying for them. They were talking about futures, something they certainly didn’t do when they arrive.

  Bella had her own future on her mind. But, it all went out of her head when her daughter woke and went into fussy squalls. Nantan pulled over so Bella could change Ryder, then they hit the road again. They made it back before the fussy squalls turned into screams. Inola was right there, ready to go, when they pulled in. She took the baby into the horse barn to nurse.

  Alo rubbed his ears. “No kids for me until I’m damn good and ready,” he said.

  Yas nodded. “I’ve been over to the big house when Ryder gets mad.”

  “Try three o’clock in the morning, and four, and five,” said Alicia. Nantan nearly cheered.

  Alicia and Yas were getting close. Both would turn eighteen soon; he’d been getting worried. He and Inola had the requisite conversations about sex with them, but they were teaching them to make good decisions. It made him feel fantastic that they were thinking about consequences —the last thing teens tended to consider.

  “Ding,” said Nantan, as he unloaded the last of the canvas bags with the dirty plastic containers, before he shut the van door. The teens rolled their eyes at him, but his timer sound made them move quickly.

  They put the containers in the cutting-room dishwasher, turned it on, and split up; some to create more boxes for the evening deliveries, and some to continue with their lessons. Yanaba, Gwen, and Elu came in, bushel baskets full. They expertly cut the tops off the strawberries and rinsed them. Yanaba and Gwen had sucked Elu into coding, and they discussed where they were in getting one of their coding certificate. The conversation taking place while they prepared spinach and strawberries for a salad.

  Nantan made the homemade five-grain pasta. He ground his own flour with an electric mill. He put in wheat, quinoa, buckwheat, millet, and spelt into the grain machine, and then turned it on. He got out the pasta machine; the eggs, salt, oil, and two bowls. One with spinach and one red bell pepper, along with a mortar and pestle to crush the vegetables. He then stepped back when Alo washed his hands, and measured the grain. He left Alo to make the pasta doughs, green with spinach and red with the bell pepper. Nantan emptied the mill and put in a new formula, this one with rye.

  He took out another bowl, and Yanaba came over. “Making rye bread?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  She pulled out the eggs from their own chickens, and oil, yeast, and salt. Yanaba loved making bread dough; she had an aggressive side. She liked beating and rolling dough. She mixed the dough, covered it, and put it in the refrigerator to rise. Gwen and Elu finished boxing the greenery mix for the salad, mixing in slivers of purple cabbage, strips of bell peppers, and a side container of slivered almonds. They cut veggie mixes for snacks; Callie had shown them how to make bento box lunches, and there were quite a few moms that used their service. Callie had shown them how to cut veggies into cute sticks, and circle and flower shapes for fruit. They packed the bento boxes and put them in cloth bags ready for the refrigerator. Waiting for the evening drop-off service, sitting neatly and stacked well.

  Nantan made a dinging noise, and they all ran off to the bathroom, or to flop down on a chair to play with their phones. Nantan washed his own hands, and went over the checklist of what had been done. Nico and Tico came in, bursting with energy; they had been out on a ride. They washed their hands, and took over with the pasta.

  They took the resting pasta dough, divided it, rolled it in the pasta machine, and made ricotta cheese, spinach, pine nut, and green onion ravioli. Tico was very good at making shells with a knife and a special board. Nico stuffed the shells with the ricotta mixture. Nico and Tico took turns rolling pasta dough flat and cutting it into lasagna sheets, and folding it to make noodles —angel hair and fettuccine.

  Catori came in, saw what they were making, and put diced cheeses and veggies into little containers. She added glass jars of their own tomato and basil sauce, made with a wide variety of tomatoes. She tagged and bagged, and included the cooking recipe cards. Nantan made a dinging noise, and went down the checklist. The garlic knots were last, and Catori loved making and baking them, so they were almost finished.

  He was astonished to find Bella helping the Wolfpack load the van. “Don’t you have the bar?”

  “Sunny wanted to have her first bartending thing, and Cougar asked if I would trade. Sounded good to me. Can you drop me off at Numa’s?”

  “Sure, but we don’t have many evening deliveries.”

  “Fine,” she said, swinging up into the front seat. “I call shotgun.” Nantan laughed.

  Bella came bursting into the shop as Numa counted her loot, entering things into her tablet. “What’s up?” she said.

  Bella showed her the illustration on her tablet. “I found a couple book covers I hated. I emailed the authors via their web pages, said I would do a redo for the low price of twenty-five dollars, because I was just starting out. One of them actually got back to me. Usual sci-fi nonsense; he mixed guns, and swords, and busty women.”

  The previous cover had a vapid, busty woman drawn too large, with her eyes too big. The author’s name and even the title were practically unreadable; the font was strange, and the colors involved peach and magenta.

  “Now, the after. I created this.”

  She showed a fierce woman, a sword strapped to her back, with a blaster in her hand. Her eyes were blazing with rage. She had straps and buckles on her uniform that hinted at curves, but that’s not what drew the eyes. The woman’s laser-like focus was mesmerizing. The name of the book and the author’s name were clearly visible.

  “My God,” said Numa. “This is incredible.”

  “I thought so,” said Bella. “So did the guy.” She showed her PayPal account; it had exactly twenty-five dollars in it. “I did that!” She jumped up and down. Numa laughed, and pulled her close. “I rock,” said Bella.

  “Yes, you do,” said Numa.

  “Gotta go,” she said. “There aren’t many night clients on the res. Have a great night!”

  “You too,” said Numa.

  “Thank you,” said Bella. “You helped.”

  Numa smiled. “You did the work,” she said.

  “Now, if I can make two to five hundred a night like I can at the bar…” said Bella.

  Numa snorted. “Side project.”

  “Yup,” said Bella. “Side project. But how could they allow such bad art to live on the internet?”

  �
��Some people are just too damn stupid to live.”

  3

  Leaving Dirty Vegas

  “Sometimes you have to leave what you love for the greater good… but it still sucks.”

  Ivy found getting out of bed a problem at the best of times. But, she’d been up to pee twice. The baby was kicking her ribs whenever the little bugger felt like it. She walked like a duck. She ate like a pig. She snarled like a Rottweiler. She carried the baby low, and she sat on her bladder, giggling. Ivy felt her have the hiccups once. That was trippy.

  Also, this no-caffeine thing was horrific. She could barely get out of bed with the baby kicking and sitting on her bladder, but the baby also made her a zombie until she ate. All the time. Then, work —standing up all night, chatting with customers, laughing, which often caused her to pee a little. She ran to the bathroom half the night. Dancing was out of the question. She was exhausted and cranky, and wanted naps, not staying up on swing shift.

  I have to give in. Callie can’t stand me, Cougar is chomping at the bit, and even Ace looks at me like I’m a nutcase. Hell, Ivy thought, I am a nutcase.

  Callie had fixed her breakfast muffins with bacon, egg, and cheese. Ivy wolfed down two, and consumed one water and one caffeine-free “kill me now” can of Coke, followed by a bathroom break. Callie gave her another can for the trip down to the street with the kids and Daisy. She waddled back, peed again, and took her Harley, for the last time, to work.

  Ace held the door for her, received a liquor order, and he did all the lifting. She filled up the ice trays on both bar carts, and moved bottles of whiskey and bourbon onto the carts. She tore open cases of beer, laboriously filling up the carts as he received two more orders.

  She brought the delivery paperwork to her office to scan, and then to load up to Lily’s shared email. Ivy missed Lily. They no longer worked together. She laid her forehead on the desk. Soon, she wouldn’t be working here, either. Ace would come back full-time, Cougar would handle the rest.

  “Hey,” said Bella, as Ivy waddled out of the office. “You ain’t popped yours out yet?”

  Ivy flipped her off. “We’re having two. You only had one.”

  Bella laughed. “You’ll get even less sleep than I do. Sister —Vi, I keep forgetting, well, she watches Ryder while Inola does her chores, and she has an entire Wolfpack. Henry and David, plus Jake and Vi… and the rest of the Owls, they help. I’ve got night shift, and guess what? Everyone’s asleep. No help. I get her fed and burped, change the diaper and sometimes her clothes. Oh, and sometimes all the bedding, and rock her. She sleeps, I sleep, until she wakes up a few hours later. My back is shit from sleeping in the rocker, but I can barely make it into her room, let alone back into our bed. And, no sex life. None. Just baby and two exhausted parents.”

  Ivy looked at her with contempt. “Fuck you and the depressed horse of Inola’s you rode in on.”

  Bella pointed a finger at her. “Pregnancy bitchiness. Remember it well.”

  “You’re fired,” said Ivy.

  “You can’t,” said Bella. “I could show up to work naked, and you couldn’t fire me. Inola would kill you, and so would Henry. And all the other Nighthawks.”

  “You are a cruel and unusual woman,” said Ivy.

  “True,” said Bella. “Now, waddle back in there and do your job. We have customers soon.”

  “Not without a real Coke,” said Ivy.

  “Ahh. The light dawns. One every two hours, but you have to drink apple juice or water in between.”

  “You do know I tend bar and can make my own drinks, right?” Ivy added.

  “You have me tonight. Ace is bushed and wants the smaller bar.”

  “Cruelty, thy name is woman,” said Ivy.

  Bella laughed evilly. “My plot to destroy you is working.”

  Ivy waddled to the bar, and dutifully drank her water before the Coke. Of course, she had to go to the bathroom before she drank the Coke. She kept up a steady stream of patter, willing her hands to move as they always did. Money drops became bathroom breaks combined with sitting down with her feet propped up. Bella’s new bar back, Sunny (the other one had transferred to a school out of state) rocked. She had flaming red hair with blonde on the tips, a sassy crimson smile, perfect teeth, both ears pierced with as much silver and diamond jewelry as they could hold, and an attitude that went on for miles. Her snarky comments to the patrons made them laugh out loud.

  Partway through the night, Ivy escaped to the office to deal with a blinding headache. Ice-cold water helped. She went back out, and sang Kelly Clarkson’s, Piece by Piece onstage, to outright tears, both hers and others.

  “You did a Kelly Clarkson,” said Sunny. “You cried onstage. She did hers on a much bigger one, of course, the last night of American Idol.”

  “Young, you are,” said Ivy, doing a passable Yoda. “Skilled in the stage arts, you are not.” She went back up, after more Coke, and did Joan Jett’s rousing I Love Rock ‘N Roll, and followed up with Lita Ford’s Kiss Me Deadly. She then sang a heartbreaking I’m Not the Only One, by Sam Smith.

  When she got back to the bar, Wraith asked, “Your woman stepping out on you?”

  Ivy laughed. “I doubt she could walk that far. Actually, I’m jealous. Damn woman is barely showing, and not waddling, yet. And she’s glowing. I’m just sweating. And waddling.”

  Herja, who was up visiting the Vegas Valkyries, said, “I’ve got one.”

  “Go for it,” said Ivy.

  She waited until the band finished a very screeching-metal version of Guns N’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle. Herja sang Heart’s Alone, hitting every high note. She sang Evanescence’s Bring Me to Life, along with the lead singer, and brought the house down.

  Herja came back, laughing, and Ivy poured her a whiskey. “Damn,” said Ivy. “Kicked me to the curb.”

  “I’ve got something for you,” said Herja. “A friend, so it’s trustworthy, wants to make a trade. She’ll take your little car as a trade-in and sell you a used van she has. Minivans aren’t cool.”

  “They aren’t,” said Ivy, groaning. “I’m gonna be a soccer mom!” She pretended to put her head down on the bar and cry.

  Herja laughed. “It’s not that bad. It’s super-cool, black with a hawk spray-painted on one side, and a wolf on the other. It’s kind of a cross between a van and a truck, with cool tires. It’s a used Ford E-250. The seats come out for camping, and the like. It’s older, but it rides like a dream. I know it’s sad to become a soccer mom, but it’s nice. The back has a nice place where you can spray-paint the Nighthawks logo.”

  “No trade-in,” said Ivy, groaning again, filling up a tray full of beers. “Callie needs the car. I need the van. Plus, our bikes. We’ll need to add onto the garage.”

  That’s easy,” said Wraith. “Kit. We can build a motorcycle garage in a day. Hell, get the Wolfpack to do it, it’ll go up for the cost of pizza and sodas.”

  Ivy served a tray full of whiskey. “Doable.”

  “Give me your credit card,” said Wraith. Ivy handed it over, and served four Iron Knights wanting long-neck beers.

  She made the money disappear into the cash register, and then poured a pitcher of beer and put four mugs on a tray.

  “Red, blue, sand… wait, there’s one with a blue roof and sand-colored walls like your house, and cute little inlays on the doors.” She flashed Ivy the picture.

  “Sold,” said Ivy.

  “Whoa,” said Wraith. “Amish people assemble them. This group lives in Oklahoma.”

  “Cool,” said Herja, looking at the prefab garage. “Get me one while you’re at it. I’ve got a couple of enthusiasts that want to run a garage.”

  “Prefab might not work,” said Wraith. “You need electricity, heating, and cooling.”

  “Shit,” said Herja. “Gotta get a build. That’ll cost us a pretty penny.”

  “You got men lining up to please you, and win you over. You’re telling me you can’t find people willing to donate time or
money?” asked Ivy, now filling up another tray, then pouring three whiskeys for some tourists. “Hell, use my van to drag the seven thousand Wolfpack members over there. Or, hire people from the res and drive ‘em up.” Wraith handed Ivy her card back.

  “Seven thousand? Henry’s only on his third round of Wolfpack teens.” Wraith reached over, grabbed her own beer, popped the top, and put a five down on the bar.

  Ivy’s eyes popped open as she made the five disappear into her cash register, and her card disappear into her pocket. “Sunny, bathroom break,” she said, and waddled off.

  “That’s gonna be one huge baby,” said Herja.

  “Where are we with the betting pool?” asked Wraith.

  “I’ve got six pounds nine ounces,” said Nina, “and, two days past the due date.”

  Wraith opened up the spreadsheet on her phone. “Got ya,” she said. “Herja, really? A week late?”

  Herja shrugged. “First babies are often late.”

  Wraith took more bets, and updated the spreadsheet. She closed it, ordered another whiskey, and downed it. “Keep ‘em coming,” said Wraith to Nina.

  “Saber still out of the picture?” Nina asked, filling up the next glass with apple juice. She added a sprinkle of cinnamon, and handed it over. “Drink this,” she said. “Works better for your sorrow.”

  “Fuck you and the Harley you rode in on,” said Wraith, but she took the shot.

  “That’s just mean,” said Herja. “Tell it to me, sister.”

  “My bed is empty, and so is my heart.” Wraith turned over her shot glass and put it on the counter.

  “Well, fuck,” said Herja. “That’s sad.”

  “It’s the job,” said Wraith. “He’s done it to me, I do it to him. Mine have been shorter-term, lately. But, when you gotta go find bad guys, gun runners, drug runners and people peddlers and just… pond scum.” She downed another shot of cinnamon-laced apple juice. “People who need to take a dirt nap. Seriously. We take them down, hard. If we don’t take out the trash, who will?” She grimaced, turned over the glass. “My trainer done told me, don’t fall in love with one of us. Then Bobby got killed, and he was just… alone.” She fiddled with the glasses on the counter in front of her, making them dance around. “I didn’t want to die pitiful, you know?”