“That’s a little extreme, but he shouldn’t have let her walk all over him like that,” Eagle said, shaking his head. “I told Pop it was stupid to have her here anyway. We can find a guy who knows just as much as she does and probably more. We don’t need a woman working on our machines. What if she gets all moody when she’s on the rag? She could fuck us over, purposely screw up something that causes a wreck or explosion or something. You can’t trust women with that shit.”
Alex bit his tongue. Krishna took her job seriously, and she’d never do anything to hurt one of them. Patiently, he said, “Come on, guys. You gotta know she loves motorcycles as much as we do, and I’m sorry, but we’ve never found anyone who works so fast and does such a good job before. How many times have we gotten rid of a mechanic for cheating us or just being stupid?”
“Shut up, Alex,” Damien snapped. “Man, you’re so damn quiet, and then you open your mouth about all the wrong things. See? I knew you were screwing the bitch, or you wouldn’t stick up for her like that. If you want to sleep with her, that’s your business. It doesn’t mean we all have to deal with her attitude.”
Rage rushed through Alex’s veins, but he stayed calm on the surface. Still, he gave Damien a smile that was more of a snarl. “Mind your own business and don’t make assumptions.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Quarter said, his hands in the air. “Cut the shit, guys. Let’s play the game and relax. No brawls tonight.”
Damien scoffed. “Alex won’t throw a punch. He’s afraid Pop will turn him out, and he’s got nowhere else to go.”
He was purposely baiting Alex, who refused to bite. “You don’t know shit,” he bit out. “Play your hand, Damien.”
The table grew quiet as the focus returned to the cards, and Alex cautiously settled down, hoping he’d heard the end of it. He didn’t expect the trash talk to end permanently, but he needed to make it through the evening without anyone mentioning Krishna again. He couldn’t hold it together forever.
But as Rusty dealt the flop, Damien shook his head. “That’s why we can’t have bitches or foreign trash around. Some bleeding heart is always going to cause friction with the brothers who have his back. And all for some outsider who’d turn a cold shoulder at the drop of a hat.”
Alex stood and slammed his palms on the table, fierce with anger. “Don’t ever question my loyalty to this club, Damien. I’ve already proven myself.”
“People change, Alex,” he hissed, leaning forward. “Then cut the shit. A month ago, you’d have said the same thing to someone acting the way you have been. Get it together, or you’ll have to prove yourself all over again to keep yourself off the street. That curry muncher isn’t worth the cost of getting my boots cleaned after kicking her ass back to Asia.”
Alex fumed, but he couldn’t jump across the table and tackle Damien. There were three other brothers here. If he were alone with Damien, it would be his word against Alex’s. But three witnesses meant confirmation of exactly what incited the beating Alex wanted to give Damien, and he would be out on his ass. He didn’t have a way to open a tattoo shop, and his only customers now were the gang. If he lost that work, he was screwed. He’d lose his apartment, his bike, everything. And Krishna would probably suffer worse consequences.
Trying to backtrack a little, Alex spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m not trying to start trouble or take sides. I just don’t see any reason to talk bad about a woman who’s only trying to fit in and do an honest day’s work. She’s not hurting anyone, and she saved you a bundle on fixing your bike. You should be especially grateful.”
“Whatever.” Damien sat back and shook his head with an expression of disgust. “She parades around here with those tits hanging out and that ass in the air, and she talks a big game. But when it comes to taking care of business like a woman should, she leaves the guys with blue balls. Don’t tell me she’s not hurting anyone. She’s pissing everyone off. Except you, obviously. I can’t understand that, but, then, you’ve been acting like someone cut your dick off lately.”
Dropping back into his chair and forcing himself to slow his breathing, Alex said, “My sex life is my business. Of course, maybe if we had some fresh blood around here, it would make a difference. But these women are all used up. Maybe if you had a big enough dick, you’d notice.”
Rusty and Quarter laughed, and Eagle snorted. Apparently, Alex had managed to round back to a subject that was appropriately humorous for the poker table. Damien didn’t respond immediately, but, eventually, he broke into a reluctant grin. “Watch yourself, Alex. I don’t take well to insults. But I admit, I didn’t see that one coming. It was a good one.”
“Glad I could amuse,” Alex growled. “Now, are you in or out?” He pointed to the pot, where the rest of the table had anted up.
“What the hell? I’m in.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Krishna strode into the lion’s den with her head held high, not making eye contact with any of the members of the club as she headed straight for her first job of the day. Brett, one of the younger members of the Ashes who she suspected of still paying his dues for the gang posting his bail, had come to her with a real fixer-upper, and she had to start digging through spare parts and pieces to see what she already had to work with. The less she had to scout or order, the faster she could do the job, and the less she had to charge.
She didn’t greet anyone, and she specifically ignored leering stares and catcalls. She was here to do a job and make money. That was all. She would stick to her passion for mechanics and avoid confrontation. She would address the guys only as necessary, and that included engaging with Alex when others were around.
Her new resolve gave her a modicum of peace, and she suspected Alex was right; if she kept her head down and her nose clean, the harassment would slow down. Her hecklers would grow bored and find some other focus. She stopped at the bike, sheltered in what had become her work area inside the garage, and assessed it again. One of the biggest problems was rust, which coated a great deal of the machine. Some of it was badly corroded, and those parts would definitely have to be replaced, including the gas tank.
Other parts were scratched or just old. She could clean off some of the rust and test out those parts for effectiveness, but the wheels, kickstand, and handlebars were toast for sure. Taking a deep breath, she decided to start with a good, deep scrubbing. She grabbed a bucket, filling it with water and adding an entire bottle of CLR. She donned thick gloves and a work apron and went to town.
“Hey, Kris,” she heard as she worked at the exhaust, hoping she wouldn’t have to replace it. This particular model had special pipes, and they would be hard to come by without paying a pretty penny. She looked up at Brett and smiled. He was young enough – and new enough – to have escaped being brainwashed into the prejudices of the club so far. “How’s it going?”
She shrugged. “It’s going. Tell me again where you found this thing?”
He scratched his head. “I needed a ride to take care of my business with the Ashes, and I didn’t want to borrow money for something and owe any more than I already did. One of the guys inside told me he had a wreck that could be repaired and sold it to me for the rest of my commissary, and when I left, he gave me a name and address. Rusty gave me a ride over there straight out of release, and we tossed it into the truck.”
“How much did you have on commissary?” she asked. This monster, in this shape, wasn’t worth more than a couple hundred bucks.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe thirty. Probably less. But it’s a big deal in jail. You can’t eat the meals they give you or you’ll die from food poisoning. Commissary buys you some real food. Not particularly healthy, but things that keep you from starving to death.”
Well, at least he hadn’t overpaid. Feeling bad for asking, Krishna gazed up at him again. “Brett, this isn’t going to be a cheap fix. I can cut costs here and there, and I can give you a break on labor, but it’s still going to take some cash. How ar
e you going to pay for it?”
He blushed and turned his face away. “I got a little in my savings account. It’s not a lot, but I’ve got a few hundred. I just couldn’t get to it from jail, and it wasn’t even close to what I needed for bail.” He crouched down beside her and spoke quietly. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say too much about it, though. Pop has a plan for me to repay him and the club fund, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want to use any of my personal money toward that debt. I need to have some security.”
She wanted to scream at him to get out, to disappear somewhere before it was too late. But she said nothing. She glanced back and forth between him and the bike, and she sighed heavily. “If I could manage for five Benjamins, could you afford that?”
He suddenly looked giddy. “I could do that, no problem, and I’d still have a few bucks for emergencies.”
She nodded. “All right. This isn’t going to be anything to write home about for that price. But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll get it running well and at least clean. Then, when you have more money, we’ll go to town on it and make it something for the others to envy.” Brett was probably the only guy here who was truly kind to her, aside from Alex, and she wanted to show her appreciation for that. If she could afford it, she would do more. But a girl had to eat.
“You rock, Kris.”
She sort of liked the way he Americanized her name. She appreciated her authenticity most of the time and stayed away from things like American nicknames, but in this case, she could make an exception. Brett was the only one who used it, and it gave her a feeling of camaraderie with him that kept him separate from all the men here she wanted to knock out half the time.
“No problem.” She watched him walk away, worried about him. He was going to put himself in a lot of danger paying back his debt. And then, he’d have to find something to do with the club to keep an income, or find a side job. She hoped he’d search outside these walls for work; the more time he spent away from the clubhouse, the less likely he would become racist and chauvinistic. She would hate to lose her only friend here.
She went back to scrubbing, knowing she would be at it for at least a couple of hours, and she would likely have to dump the bucket and refill it at least once. The water already had a red tint to it from all the rust she’d washed off.
“Hey, Ned, I smell curry.” Damien’s voice grated down her spine from behind her, far too close for comfort. Footsteps brought him closer, and Krishna could sense her least favorite member of the Ashes inches from her back. “Hey, India, while you’re at it, why don’t you take a bath? Let’s see if your ass is as dark as the rest of you. And maybe, if you get that smell off you, we might actually see you as a respectable woman.”
Krishna’s first instinct was to stand up, take the bucket, and poor it over his head. Instead, she closed her eyes and counted to ten as she continued washing the spot she’d been concentrating on. When she opened them again, she tilted her head back to look at Damien’s ugly smirk and gave him an ignorant smile, as if she had no clue what he was talking about.
His smile faded, replaced by an irritated scowl. “What’s wrong now? Are you dumb, deaf, or both?”
Ned joined him, long strands of hair hanging around his face. “I think she’s pretending she doesn’t speak English. Or maybe she’s just being a typical woman and bottling up the pain inside so she can explode later.” He pouted his lip in a farce of sympathy, and Krishna held onto her smile by imagining stabbing an Allen wrench through it and yanking until it ripped through the skin. That would be utterly satisfying, though she’d have to wash off every speck of blood. There was no telling what sort of diseases that man had.
“What’s going on, boys?” Pop’s voice rang out over the din of the gang milling around, talking, and working on various things around Krishna.
Though relief swept over her like a fresh spring breeze, she refused to show any reaction as the leader of the Ashes approached. Showing relief was equivalent to admitting weakness, and even if she didn’t fight back, she wouldn’t show a lack of resolve.
“Nothing, Pop,” Damien said, carefully inching away from Krishna. “Just making sure our little mechanic here is doing her job. We’ve had enough lazy mechanics around here before. It’s time to protect our interests.”
Pop stared down at Krishna, taking in her position and the wet spots on her clothes, as well as the puddle growing under the bike as she washed it. Then, he looked up at Damien and Ned with reprimand. “If you’re so concerned with her getting her work done, you should stop interrupting her and let her get the shit done. Besides, every minute of her time you waste delays her getting on my bike.”
Krishna saw the fire in Damien’s eyes as he looked from Pop to her and back. “Sorry, Pop. I didn’t mean to slow her down.” He spat the words, insinuating that she had to be an idiot if she couldn’t listen to his bullshit and work at the same time. But it didn’t matter; Pop stood there and waited until the two men walked away and disappeared inside the building.
Only then did he gaze down at her with a warning look. “Don’t make me regret that.” With those words, he was off, and Krishna turned her frustration on the bike, redoubling her efforts to get the machine spotless. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could determine how much of the thing could be salvaged.
***
Alex silently listened to the interchange from his makeshift office under the carport while Martin flipped through pictures of some of his best work, looking for inspiration. He’d peeked around the corner when Krishna didn’t respond to the goading, worried she was acting out physically. But he was pleasantly surprised to find her all but ignoring Damien.
And then Pop showed up, and his relief faded. This couldn’t turn out good. Again, Alex was surprised. Pop had sent the guys packing and stood up for Krishna, even if it was to a minimal degree. He’d turned and said something to her quietly, and from the change in Krishna’s expression, it hadn’t lifted her spirits. Alex didn’t know what to think about that. Apparently, both sides had caught flack, and he would bet the private lashing given to Krishna was because she hadn’t risen to the insults.
Damien kept making a fool of himself, and so did many of the others. But when push came to shove, they wouldn’t pay the ultimate price. Blame would go to Krishna for ‘disrupting’ things, and punishment would be dealt to her. It would be harsh, and Alex would have to roll heads.
How did he convince these guys to stop before they took too much heat from Pop? Or, worse, before Pop finally started to resent Krishna’s presence because of his crew’s actions?
“Something like this.”
Alex started and turned toward Martin’s voice. He’d forgotten about his customer for a moment. Now, he took the book from Martin and frowned in concentration as he gauged the image. It was a vulture, picking at a skeleton on the ground, and while the subject matter did nothing for Alex, he knew it was some of his best and most creative work.
“Something like this or exactly this?” he asked. Clarification was key when it came to custom tattoo work. The more input the better, since it was less likely his customer would be dissatisfied with the finished product. And there was an inflexible no return policy on Alex’s product, for obvious reasons.
“I don’t want a copy of something already tatted on some other guy, man. But I like the style and the look.” He studied the picture again. “Maybe you could have the vulture flying down toward a deer carcass or something. That would be cool.”
It took all Alex’s willpower not to roll his eyes. He didn’t understand some people’s choices. He loved tattoos, as evidenced by how many he had. But they were permanent, and every piece he had carried specific meaning to him. He didn’t have a single random image on his body. Martin’s spontaneous, careless choice mirrored an unfortunately common response in clients. They tended to find something ‘pretty’ or ‘cool’ and stick it without any thought going into why they really wanted it.
If Alex looked b
ack fifty years from now, he would regret none of his tattoos, but most people couldn’t say that. Martin wasn’t old, maybe forty. But in thirty years, he could imagine the guy looking down at his leg and seeing the vulture and carcass and thinking, Why the fuck did I get that? And this wasn’t the worst of them.
Some of the girls who came around had tattoos of names of some of the crew, which didn’t make any sense at all. None of them were old ladies, and most of his brothers didn’t even know the names of these girls. They were all ‘Babe’ and ‘Sweet Cheeks.’ Alex realized his profession introduced him to many of the least intelligent members of society, and it gave him little hope for humanity that there were so many people lacking common sense.
This Savage Love: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set Page 85