by Debra Kayn
She laughed against his lips. There were times, he had a one-track mind. And, God, she loved that part of him, too.
Dragging him to the other end of the house, she pulled him into the bedroom and, holding onto his hand, danced around him. The excitement of starting a new phase in their life together was more than she could contain.
There was nobody around. No bikers. No blaring music. No half-naked women rubbing against the men. She could do whatever she wanted.
"You're a goon." He chuckled, grabbing her.
Bending her backward, he kissed her neck. A thrill shot through her. This was how it was supposed to be.
He made her feel wanted.
He made her feel needed.
He made her feel—
The doorbell rang. She yelped, grabbing Whip's shoulders, and straightened.
Out of breath, she said, "Who knows we're here?"
He motioned for her to stay. She followed him out of the room instead. It could be anyone. It could be Big.
"You don't listen." He put his hand on his lower back, gripping the handle of his pistol.
Most of the time, she forgot that he carried a weapon. Seeing his, she was reminded that now that Whip would no longer be guarding her while she worked, she could take Big's pistol out of her purse.
There obviously wasn't a need for it anymore. Whatever had happened on Friday that drew Whip away from her had stopped his worry about Big coming to the restaurant.
Whip looked out the window. "It's my sister."
He opened the door. Tracy came in, lugging one child and leading the other.
"The thing you wanted is in the back of the truck." Tracy fought a smile. "I'm not helping you unload it, though."
"Thanks." He walked outside, putting a cigarette in his mouth.
Curious to know what Tracy brought with her, Twyla looked out the window and laughed. Rocky bumped into her leg. Brought back from the arousal Whip was always creating inside of her, she smiled at Tracy's son as he ran in circles in the bare room.
"We're neighbors." Tracy set Bethy on her feet and blocked the door, making sure none of the kids escaped. "This is the best possible situation. I always felt bad about Whip coming home from prison and not staying at the house with us. It's no life for anyone, living in a clubhouse."
Understanding passed through her, knowing Whip's stay in the federal prison had changed many things for him.
"It's not so bad being at the clubhouse," she said.
Tracy groaned. "I imagine you don't get much sleep."
Whip picked that moment to carry the mattress into the house. "Twyla can sleep anywhere. She's out like a rock once her head hits the pillow."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not true."
He grunted. She couldn't help smiling. That was his way of arguing with her.
"I still say you should go out and buy a new mattress set." Tracy looked at Twyla. "That's his old one. It's been set up in Rocky's room, going unused, except for my son using it to spread all his toys out on."
"Is it comfortable?" she asked.
From the bedroom, Whip said, "The best."
She shrugged. "It's fine for me."
Whip had little when he got out of prison. He would probably enjoy sleeping in a familiar bed again. Maybe in some way, he'd find comfort having something his parents probably bought him years ago.
Tracy caught Bethy before she tumbled. "I'm going to get out of here and let you two enjoy your new home. If you need anything else, let me or Rick know, and we can bring it over."
"Hey, Tracy? We need a couch." Whip walked into the living room. "Why don't you go with Twyla this week and help her pick something out?"
"Are you sure?" Twyla walked outside with everyone. "I mean, we can wait to buy furniture. There's no hurry."
"We need a couch." He stopped at the back of the pickup and pulled the box spring out of the back.
She hurried around to grab the end, helping him carry it into the house. Tracy loaded the kids in the cab of the truck. By the time they hefted the bed to the door, she could only lift her chin as Tracy waved.
"I like your sister," she blurted.
"Why wouldn't you?"
It was hard to explain. She never had any problems making friends, but when relationships had labels like mom, dad, sister, she was usually not deemed good enough or smart enough.
"I expected her not to like me." She almost dropped the box spring in the hallway. "Like Angie."
Whip set the mattress down and looked over the top at her. "I know you two don't get along, and you know my opinion about how she treats you, but the night you took off from the clubhouse, your sister wasn't only pissed, she was scared."
"Of what?"
"Losing you."
She laughed. Angie rather not deal with Twyla. As long as she was far away, her sister was happy.
"Right." She shook her head. "She was probably afraid to get her hopes up that I would come back and ruin her perfect, little life."
Whip picked up the end of the mattress. She picked up the other end. Together, they picked a spot to put the bed in their new bedroom.
She forgot about her sister's attitude toward her and embraced her new life. Things were happening fast. She wanted to enjoy every second.
Chapter 28
Whip
The prison guard behind the Plexiglas at the Montana State Penitentiary eyed Whip. He remained tense, waiting for Walker to show up for visitation. From his view, there was no difference on which side he sat as long as he was within the prison system and behind the Cyclone fence.
He kept reminding himself that he could walk out whenever he wanted.
The guard smirked. Yeah, he remembered the motherfucker.
A few times, that same guard had taken a Billy club to him for no reason but pure entertainment. His need to serve his sentence and get back to his club had kept him from killing the asshole.
Walker walked into the room, shuffling his feet. Whip looked away until his MC brother sat in the chair, and the guard latched the chain running from his handcuffs to his ankle braces to the table. Once he was sure the guard had gone back to the wall to stand ready, he picked up the phone and faced Walker.
Knowing the phone was tapped, he'd hoped for a private meeting. There were ways to talk with hand signals when privacy was a concern. But with the guard remaining in the room, they both would need to be extra careful on what they passed back and forth.
"What's with the company you're keeping?" said Whip.
"The whole block is getting tailed." Walker silently tapped his finger on the surface in front of him three times—there were three guards within hearing distance of him.
"Sucks for you, brother." Whip picked up on what was happening. "Have you heard from your cousin?"
There was no cousin. On the inside, Walker had contact with Moroad members. He needed to know how close they were to achieving the upper hand on Cusclan. They needed the weapons back in Moroad's control.
"Yeah." Walker used his thumb, sliding it twice between his middle and ring finger on the same hand.
He'd signaled six days. In six days, Moroad would make their move on Cusclan members.
Whip shrugged. The message was clear and received.
"How's the baby sleeping?" asked Walker.
Faye, Walker's niece, who wasn't a baby but was pregnant, was the most important person in Walker's life. Not a visit went by without him finding out about her well-being. Whip looked him in the eye. "Safe, warm, happy."
"Good." Walker stretched his shoulders, arching his back. "C...O...Okay, man. That's good."
C stood for three. O for fifteen. The attack on Cusclan would happen in six days at three fifteen in the afternoon.
Walker gave him all the information he needed.
"Watch your back, brother." Whip put his hand on the glass.
Walker refused to lift his hand, signaling he was holding strong and needed no support. His MC brother's gaze hardened a split second, preparing to return
to his cell, before he hung up the phone, signaling he was done.
Whip swallowed, hating that he was on the outside while Walker remained in prison. He was a good man. One of the best Tarkio had on the roster.
He put the receiver back on the hanger and stood. A security officer escorted him out of the visiting room, down the hallway, and delivered him to the front desk.
While the guard retrieved Whip's set of keys and gave him back his wallet, he looked around the holding room, stopping when he recognized a Cusclan vest on a man sitting with his back against the wall.
His fingers curled. Anyone wearing the patch was better off dead.
"Mr. Greer?"
He turned back to the counter and grabbed his personal items they'd confiscated before the visit. Then, he walked out the front door.
Once the fresh air hit him, he wanted to run. He forced himself to walk the two hundred feet to the gate, show his I.D., and be let out. He strode straight to his Harley, where he met back up with Rick.
"Did you get in?" Rick handed him a cigarette.
He took a hit, holding it between his thumb and index finger. "Yeah."
If he hadn't gained clearance for some reason, he would sit outside while Rick tried getting in to see Thomas, another Tarkio member.
The guards are fucking thick in there," he said.
"I suspected." Rick flashed him the pistol between his legs.
Whip moved closer, shielding the exchange as he slipped it into the hidden pocket inside his vest. "Let's get out of here. We can stop for Pie and talk before hitting the clubhouse."
"Pie?" Rick harrumphed. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"
He got on his Harley and started the bike. Leading the way away from the prison, he went over everything passed between him and Walker. The urge to see Twyla stronger than ever.
He needed the reminder that he was free.
Chapter 29
Twyla
Lynette put the coffee pot on the warmer and handed her tips to Twyla. "Can you put this in the cash register for me?"
"Sure." Twyla stepped over and hit the button on the register, making the drawer open. "How are you holding up?"
"I don't know what is going on in town to make everyone come to Mama Jean's, but I'll take the busy day." Lynette shared a smile. "Or maybe it's working days instead of at night that's the difference. Whatever it is, I'll take it."
She laughed quietly. "I've had the same thought."
"Lucky us," whispered Lynette before going out on the floor and helping customers.
Twyla made more coffee, comfortable in her new routine. Lynette moved to days with her, joined by Clare and Marissa, who were long-term employees at the restaurant. She loved working earlier hours, and the transition went smoothly with familiar coworkers who adapted to the change of routine.
The only difference to her day came from the customers. In the evenings, paying customers enjoyed talking and were more laidback, content to spend more time at the tables.
During the day, the customers came and went without lingering, intent on indulging their sweet tooth and grabbing a coffee before picking up kids at school or going back to work.
Amy walked out of the back as Twyla went to check in with the baker who made the pies in the kitchen. She greeted her old supervisor.
"You're early," she said.
"Not really." Amy checked her watch. "Work starts in ten minutes."
Surprised her shift was almost over, she excused herself to get everything set up for the next work crew to come in. Customers hated to wait for a warm piece of pie.
She inhaled deeply in the kitchen. The sweet, sugary scent always present inside the building comforted most people, but it was intoxicating as if she was on a sugar high in the kitchen.
"Perfect timing." John pulled a pie out of the oven. "These three came out within the last five minutes. Let them cool off before you serve them to customers."
"I will." She picked up two potholders, picking up the pies, and sliding them onto a metal tray.
Unlike the cream pies and the ones made the day before, the apple pies were served warm, usually with a serving of ice cream or a chunk of cheese. She carefully walked out to the main room and set the tray on the back counter.
The customers would benefit from the yummy aroma while they cooled off enough to serve.
The bell on the door jingled. She turned to help the new arrivals and smiled at seeing Tracy standing inside, gazing around.
"Hello." She walked around the counter and gave Whip's sister a hug. "What are you doing here?"
"Rick has the kids at the clubhouse, and I thought I'd pick up some dessert for tonight and surprise him." Tracy pressed a hand to her stomach. "Is that apple pie I'm smelling?"
"Just out of the oven."
Tracy groaned. "I was set on getting a huckleberry pie, but now I want apple, I think."
She leaned closer and whispered, "Or both?"
"Yes." Tracy laughed. "Rick will eat them both, I'm sure."
"Let me put those in a box for you." She went around the counter and packaged the sales.
"I'd be so fat if I worked here." Tracy peered inside the glass showcase. "Sweets are my weakness."
She had the same problem for the first couple of weeks she'd worked here. During every lunch break, she'd eat a piece of pie. The novelty of it quickly wore off when her jeans became too tight.
Telling Tracy the total, she rang up the sale. Amy came over and checked her out of the register. Knowing it was time to go home, she told Tracy to wait, and she'd help carry the pies out so that she could put them in the truck without them sliding in the boxes.
After she grabbed her purse and sweater, she waved goodbye to her coworkers, who were also hurrying to their cars to leave, and walked with Tracy across the parking lot.
"Are you heading to the clubhouse?" Tracy set one of the boxes in the truck.
"No, not tonight." She handed the other pie to her. "I have laundry I need to do and told Whip I was going straight home."
A loud rumble turned Twyla's head. A biker rode into the parking lot. At first, she thought Whip had come to surprise her at work, but she quickly realized it was Big.
"Shit." She grabbed Tracy's arm. "Get in and go."
Tracy leaned to the side, looking around Twyla. Her eyes rounded, and she stared at the Cusclan member. Not wanting Whip's sister around if Big opened his stupid mouth and embarrassed her, she gave Tracy a shake to get her moving.
"I'll see you later, 'kay?"
Tracy never stepped up into the truck, only stood there staring as Big came to a stop behind the pickup. Turning around, Twyla blocked Big from seeing Tracy. If he knew he had an audience to showoff to, he'd be impossible to deal with. She couldn't guess what he would do if someone else confronted him.
Big shut off the engine and got off the motorcycle. "Do you have what you took from me?"
At first, she shook her head, not knowing what he was talking about, but then realizing it was always about the pistol. If she had it on her, she'd give it back to be done with him.
Except, it was at home. Since she no longer needed protection and had moved in with Whip, she'd stopped carrying it in her purse.
"Leave me alone, Big." She squeezed the strap of her purse.
"Thinking you're something now?" Big stepped closer. "Bouncing from one biker to another."
She rolled her eyes. If he meant to hurt her, he'd need to try harder. Whip was more of a man than ten of Big.
Big's hand snaked out and grabbed her jaw between his thumb and finger, holding her immobile and forcing her to look at him. "I'll be back tomorrow. Bring it. If you don't, I might have to come have a visit at your new place. I don't think you want to find out what your old man would say about that."
She jerked, breaking away from him.
Her heart pounded. Whip would kill him.
Big walked backward a few paces and got on his motorcycle. He roared away. Twyla glanced around the parki
ng lot, hoping his visit hadn't brought any added attention. Thankfully, her coworkers had left and missed the altercations.
She turned around to apologize to Tracy. "I'm sorry. He's such a..."
Tracy stared straight ahead, visibly shaking. Twyla rubbed Tracy's upper arms, concerned about how Whip's sister seemed shocked.
That was one of Big's calmer visits. Usually, he became mean and lost his temper.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Getting no response from Tracy, she turned toward the truck and urged Whip's sister to get inside and sit down.
Tracy got behind the steering wheel and sat there. Twyla rubbed her leg.
"It's okay." She was useless in comforting other people. "He's gone."
A shudder rolled through Tracy. Twyla palmed her forehead at a loss of what to do. There was no reason to be scared. They were in the parking lot of the restaurant. The sun was still out. All she had to do was scream and—
"Oh, shit," she mumbled, grabbing Tracy's hands.
Cusclan had killed Tracy's parents in front of her when she was a teenager. Heaviness pressed down on her chest.
Tracy wasn't afraid of the confrontation but frightened to death, reliving her past at seeing a Cusclan member. Feeling sick to her stomach at having caused Tracy to experience more heartbreak in her life, she blinked back tears of helplessness.
"I'm so sorry, Tracy." She rubbed warmth into the other woman's hands. "I would've protected you."
Mad at herself for not realizing what seeing Big would do to her sooner and not doing something, she kept touching Tracy.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered, looking around. "I'll go inside and call Whip. Do you want your brother? Rick?"
Tracy held on to her. "Don't leave me."
"I won't." Her back stiffened at the added responsibility, and she blew out her breath. "I promise. I'll stay with you until you want me to go."
After several minutes, she knew there was no way to go back into the restaurant to use the phone without Tracy falling apart, and she wouldn't want to take her inside and have people questioning her.
"Tracy?" She patted Tracy's hands. "I want you to scoot over. I'll drive you to the clubhouse, and you can be with Rick."