This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
Trust in Me copyright @ 2014 by A. L. Summers. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
TRUST IN ME
CHAPTER ONE
The Dark Riders or DRs, as we call ourselves, is a club of like-minded individuals that enjoy riding motorcycles. Specifically, hogs. We each have our day job. I work the parts counter at a Harley-Davidson dealership, for example. We also have our…ahem…other jobs. The DRs is a very exclusive club. You are only allowed in if you are recruited. We only recruit when we need a very specific set of skills. You see, the Dark Riders, we’re in what you might call the export business.
We work together to obtain Harleys for customers who might otherwise find them unattainable. Customers in other countries. Other European countries, to be exact. My brother Danny is Vice President of Business Development at one of the local banks. In other words, he makes loans. He makes sure we have sufficient cash to pay for the bikes we buy.
Charlie works a help desk for a large IT firm. He functions as our forger. His computer skills allow him to make modified documents, both electronic and paper, that are indistinguishable from the originals. He makes sure the paperwork looks nice and legal. This insures the feds are kept in the dark about our gray marketing.
Sean drives a truck. He handles transportation and is responsible for getting the bikes in a container and on the water. Rick is an air freight pilot on a regular run to London. He is perfect for handling sales and is the contact for our customers.
Then there is Lew, our president. Lew is retired after selling his string of restaurants. He founded the Dark Riders years ago. He runs our little export business for something to do. Plus, it brings in a little “walking around money,” as he calls it. He handles the money and makes sure each of us gets a slice of the pie.
And me? My job is to locate and obtain the bikes the customers want. I’m also the breaker. I break some of the bikes we buy down and sell them as spare parts.
We all have our jobs and we’re all an important cog that makes the well-oiled machine run. The problem is that not everyone sees it that way. Charlie gets no respect for what he does and neither do I. I know more about bikes than anyone else in the DRs, but do they respect me? That would be a big fat fuck no. I’m just Danny’s little sister. I would like to see one of these ass-clowns buy this many new bikes in a year and not have someone get suspicious. Or take one apart. Hell, Rick can’t even change his own oil. I know because he brings his bike to me to do it for him.
So even though Charlie and I are the ones getting the damn bikes for everyone else to do their part, they give me a pat on the head and a “ain’t she cute” bullshit attitude. I finally had enough of it. I was tired of living in the shadow of Danny. He didn’t do shit unless we ran into a cash flow problem. Three weeks ago, after throwing a wrench at Sean for his smart ass attitude, I stormed out vowing to never return.
While I sat drinking my beer at one of our regular watering holes, thinking evil thoughts, Darren Kelley strolls in. He sat down beside me at the bar. Darren used to be a Dark Rider, until he and Danny got into it. Darren was pissed that he was passed over for the vice president position in favor of Danny. Rather than suck it up and act like a man, he started spreading rumors. When they got back to Danny, Darren found himself tossed out on his ass. That was two years ago. Danny and Darren have hated each other since.
Since then Darren, formed his own club, the Demon Knives. He appointed himself president. It didn’t go without notice that his club’s initials just happened to match his own. That’s Darren. He’s an insufferable, know-it-all, blowhard; but, damn, he’s good looking.
Plied with beer and attitude, one thing led to another and I ended up going home with him. In hindsight, we both wanted the same thing, to stick it to the DRs. And in Darren’s case, by extension, Danny. The first couple of weeks were pretty fucking good. That is to say the fucking was pretty good. Darren might be an asshole, but he knows how to please a woman. After the second week, Sean, Danny, and Lew called and apologized. They asked me to come back. I was mostly over being pissed off anyway, especially since I worked off my frustration on Darren’s cock. That’s when I started to try and ease my way out of the relationship. That’s also when Darren started to get a little clingy.
Last week, I finally had enough of Darren’s shit, too. I told him I was out of there. At first he pleaded, then he threatened. Then, he slapped the shit out of me. There must be a course at asshole school that teaches a man how to hit a woman because that slap hurt like shit. I hit him with the door and ran like hell. When I got back to the club, I claimed a kid chasing a Frisbee in a park ran me over. I had to explain away the bruise. I don’t know if they bought it, but nobody said anything.
I would have considered it a lesson learned and let it go at that, except Darren is creeping me out. It seems every time I turn around, he’s there. He’s always where I am, watching. When I finally confronted him about it, he didn’t deny following me. He said that he couldn’t live without me. That was scary. What is even scarier is that he said that I would realize that I couldn’t live without him, too. I told him to wait right where he was and I would come get him when I realized he’s right.
This morning I was going to ride my bike into work, since it is going to be such a nice day. When my garage door went up, the first thing I saw was Darren propped on his motorcycle at my curb. I decided to take the car. I have no idea how long he had been there, hanging around outside my house. It unnerves me to think he might be standing outside my house at night; so, I drove straight to Charlie’s after work.
CHAPTER TWO
I stand before Charlie’s door chewing my lip. I’m still not certain that I want to go through with this. Normally, I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much, but this shit is getting out of hand. I have managed to explain away the bruise, but I am seeing Darren in way too many places for it to be just a coincidence. I take a deep breath to suck up my courage and rap on the door.
After a pause the door swings open. “Aubrey? What are you doing here?” Charlie asks in surprise.
“May I come in?”
“Sure,” Charlie says, stepping back and holding the door for me. “Uhh, would you like to sit down?” Charlie asks when I step inside the door and stop. I’m not sure what to do next.
“Thanks,” I say, as I move to a chair and pick up a pile of mail addressed to current resident, occupant and Charles Hill. I hand the pile to Charlie. The top envelope announces that he may have already won! Charlie’s apartment is small, made smaller still by the gutted computers piled around everywhere. It’s also a dump. Mountain Dew bottles and empty fast food containers are piled on every flat surface, save one place - his computer desk.
Charlie sits at his desk chair and swivels to face me, but says nothing. Apparently, he’s waiting for me to speak. “Well? What can I do for you?” he finally asks.
“I have a problem,” I say. Why is it so hard to admit I’m in over my head? I talk to Charlie at least twice a week. Unlike everyone else, I like him.
“I gathered or you wouldn’t be here. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ve fucked up. You’ve heard me pissing and moaning about how all the Dark
Riders don’t respect me?”
“Yeah, well, welcome to my world,” Charlie says.
“Well,” I say, pausing to gather the courage to continue, “I’ve had an affair with Darren Kelly.” I say in a rush.
“Darren Kelly? The Darren Kelly? The Darren Kelly whose nuts Danny threatened cut off? That Darren Kelly?” Charlie pauses, then he begins to snicker. “Danny is going to positively shit kittens when he find out about this!”
“Don’t you dare tell him!”
“Aubrey, he’s your brother. He’s going to find out sooner or later,” Charlie chortles, spinning around once his chair. “Oh God, I want to be there when he does!”
“Charlie! You can’t tell him!” I beg. I knew this was a bad idea.
“I won’t tell him,” Charlie says grinning like an idiot. “So why are you here? Are you going to have an affair with me now? Just in case you fucking Darren Kelly isn’t enough to give Danny an aneurism?!”
I jump to my feet, thoroughly pissed off. “Fuck you, Charlie!” I snarl. “I thought you were the one guy I could trust to help me! You’re as bad as all the other assholes in the DRs!”
“Aubrey, wait! Just wait a minute!” Charlie says, still grinning. “I’m sorry. It’s just, Jesus. Aubrey, what were you thinking? You’re Danny Carmichael’s little sister. Vice President Danny Carmichael,” Charlie says, making little tick marks when he says vice president.
I storm to the door, but Charlie is quicker. He puts his hand against it to hold it shut. “Let go of the door, Charles,” I say, my voice dripping with contempt on his name.
I see Charlie’s face harden. He hates being called Charles and I know it. He jerks his hand away, as if the door is hot. Then, he holds it up to show his compliance. “Fine,” he says taking a step back. “Guess you didn’t need my help after all.”
I don’t open the door because I really do need help. I don’t know who else to turn to. “You can be such a jerkwad,” I say releasing the door handle.
“You’re not exactly little miss sunshine sometimes either, you know,” Charlie says. Then, he smiles slightly. “I’m sorry, Aubrey. Come sit down. Can I get you something? I have Mountain Dews in the ‘fridge.”
“How about a beer?”
Charlie smiles. “No beer. Sorry. To me that shit tastes just like what it looks like.”
“Fine. Give me a Dew.”
Charlie walks to the refrigerator and pulls out two Dews. “Here you go,” he says, before tossing it underhand to me.
“This is going to spray everywhere!”
“Dews don’t spew,” Charlie says giving his bottle a good shake, then opening it slowly.
I give the top a slow twist and though the bottle gasses off like grandpa after eating a bean burrito, it doesn’t bubble over. “Thanks,” I say before taking a swig. Yuck! How does he drink these things?
“Aubrey, I’m sorry I laughed. I’m just shocked, I guess, that you would do something like that. Why did you do it, anyway?” Charlie asks, then grins again. “Not that I mind watching your brother squirm a little. How did you get mixed up with Darren and what can I do to help?”
I pause, not knowing where to start, and then I give Charlie the whole story. If he’s going to help me, he needs to know what he is getting into.
CHAPTER THREE
“So what do you want me to do about it?” Charlie asks.
“I don’t know. I didn’t know who else to ask.”
Charlie smiles. “Thank you, Aubrey. That’s nice of you to say.” Charlie stands up and looks out the window of his apartment. “You’re the white Altima, right?”
“Yes, why?” I ask rising to look out the window with him.
“Just checking. I don’t see anyone.”
“Me either. Maybe he’s given up.”
Charlie looks at me dubiously. “Darren? Not likely. I always thought he was as crazy as a shit-house rat. I’ll tell you what. Stay here for a while, then I’ll follow you home. I’ll swing by and pick you up before the meeting tomorrow and you can ride in with me. How’s that sound?”
I smile at Charlie. “Thanks, Charlie. I knew I could count on you.”
“Well, that’s one,” Charlie says turning away from the window.
***
Charlie and I have worked together for the last three years. I have always respected what he can do with the computer; but, as I sit and talk with him like a friend for the first time, I realize that Charlie is a really nice guy. He orders a pizza. Then, he spends a few minutes picking up and apologizing profusely for the mess.
A normal person wouldn’t peg Charlie for a biker. At six-two, Charlie looks like a preppy in his J. Crew pants and shirt. He’s clean cut and wears stylish rimless glasses. I notice for the first time that he also appears to be slim and well-muscled, though it’s hard to tell through the baggy clothes he always wears. We eat and laugh. I feel better than I have for the last several days.
As darkness falls, Charlie gets up and looks out the window again. “I still don’t see anyone hanging around. Maybe he doesn’t know where you are.”
“I hope.”
“You ready to go?” Charlie asks.
“Yes. Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate you doing this for me.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Charlie walks into his room. He stuffs something inside the waist of his pants when he returns.
“Is that a gun?” I ask as I feel my eyes widen. Now I know why he wears such loose clothing.
“Yeah. Never leave home without it,” he says, arranging his shirt so the weapon disappears.
I recognize that slogan from somewhere, but I can’t remember where. “I didn’t know you carried a gun. Are you allowed to have that?”
“What do you mean?” Charlie asks, his eyes narrowing.
“Don’t you have to have a permit or something to carry a gun?”
“Supposed to.”
“But you don’t?” I ask, my tone making it a statement.
“Let’s just say what the state doesn’t know doesn’t hurt them.”
“What if you get stopped?”
“What if I do? I’m not going to pull the gun on a cop. Plus, they can’t search my car without probable cause. I just leave it in the center console.”
I look at Charlie in a new light. He may not be the quiet, shy guy I thought he was. “Okay. Whatever,” I say blowing it off. Hell, I’ve been involved in smuggling Harleys for nearly ten years. Who am I to judge?
Charlie and I walk out to my car. As we stride across the parking lot, I see Darren, near the entrance. He is out of the line of sight of Charlie’s window. I grab Charlie’s arm in my hand like a scared little girl. Maybe that’s all I am. “There he is!” I hiss.
Charlie looks where I am looking. Then, he pauses while fishing in his pocket. “Here,” he says handing me a key ring. “Go back inside. I think I’ll have a chat with Mr. Kelley.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Nothing. We’re just going to talk for a minute,” Charlie says, his voice harder than I have ever heard it before.
I take the keys and hurry back toward Charlie’s apartment, but I don’t go inside. I need to see this. I stand where I can see Charlie striding purposely down the parking lot. When he gets to Darren, I can see them talking. Then, Darren raises his hands in an “I’m not doing anything” type of motion. I can’t hear their voices, but it is clear from their body language that it isn’t a friendly conversation.
Finally, Darren mounts up and rides off. Charlie stands his ground a few minutes more before turning back and walking toward me. “That guy is off his nut,” Charlie says when he reaches me.
“Should we call the cops?”
“Aubrey, do you really want the cops coming around and asking questions? Besides, he hasn’t done anything yet.”
I chew on my bottom lip, not knowing what to do.
“Why don’t you stay with me tonight? I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I look at him dubio
usly. “And why should I do that?”
“Because, Aubrey, Darren Kelly is crazy. He didn’t like it at all that you were here in my apartment. I don’t think you should be alone tonight, in case he decides to do something stupid. Give him a little time to cool off. If you stay here, rather than in your house, there are a lot more people around. That may make him think a little more before he tries anything.”
I think about it and it makes sense. I would feel better staying with someone. And if that someone has a gun, even better. “If you make a pass at me, I’ll shoot you with your own gun,” I tease.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Charlie says with a smile. “Last thing I want is Danny pissed off at me. He hates me already.”
“He does not,” I say as we turn to walk back into Charlie’s apartment.
Trust in Me: A Biker Erotic Romance (Dark Riders MC) Page 1