Forging Steel (Steel Riders MC Book 3)

by Carmen Faye

  Cyn looked her friend in the eyes and spoke softly to her soul. “Yes, I climaxed, and yes, it was good, and yes, that last one was fucking amazing. But I’m not in love with you, and I’m not going to be your lesbian lover.”

  “What are you, then?” Daphne asked, her lip trembling.

  “I’m your friend, Daphne. Your friend who loves you, and cherishes you, even before you saved my life. A friend who can’t stand by and witness your pain when she can offer some comfort, even though she can’t offer a cure.”

  Daphne searched her eyes, but Cyn was unsure if she was searching Cyn or herself. Maybe it was both. She seemed to come to a conclusion, though, and she nodded. “Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t think any of the other sisters would go this far for me. Was scissors too far for you?”

  “A little, yes. It overwhelmed me, that’s for sure. I wasn’t prepared for how conflicted I would feel. I can go this far with you, and for you, but I can’t ride this road any farther. I can’t, no matter how much I believe you deserve it from me. I just can’t.”

  Daphne kissed her again. “It’s enough. I’ll go to counseling. I’ll seek someone to be a lover for me. I won’t abuse your friendship. I still need you now, though. Is that alright?”

  “Yes Daphne, yes it is,” Cyn told her, and brought her into a lovers’ kiss. “I’ll also be with you for at least two more months. Hank and I talked it over last night, and he agrees that it is too early to leave you hanging in the wind.”

  Half an hour later, they were still in bed engaging in pillow talk when Cyn’s phone rang.

  “Yes? Hank?”

  “When you two get things squared away, or whatever, could you bring Daphne down here, please? I have something she might want.”

  Did he know? Could he tell? She wouldn’t doubt it at all. “Sure,” she told him. “How about after lunch, say, one o’clock?”

  “No rush, enjoy the morning. Is she alright?”

  “She wasn’t. She slept alone last night for the first time in years, but she’s better now.”

  “Good. See you at one, then,” Hank said, and he broke the connection.

  “Hank wants to see me?” Daphne asked as Cyn crawled back into bed with her, bringing her phone with her so she wouldn’t have to get up next time.

  “He says he has something you might want,” Cyn agreed.

  “What?”

  “Don’t know. I think he wants it to be a surprise.”

  “So, why at one? That’s like three hours from now.”

  “Because I’m not done with you yet,” Cyn told her, and she pushed her back on the bed.

  “God Cyn, I really do love you,” Daphne told her.

  “Me too, baby, me too.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  When they pulled up to the house, Hank came down the steps to meet them. He looked the two of them over and grinned slightly, but he said nothing about his observations.

  God, he knows. Fuck.

  “Daphne, how would you like to buy a truck?” Hank asked her.

  “Truck?” Her eyes darted over to the purple metallic hot rod.

  “Yes, that truck,” Hank said. “You need a car still, don’t you?”

  “They haven’t given mine back yet, no,” Daphne agreed.

  “Well, that one is for sale, and it has three years of paid insurance on it. Full coverage, no less,” Hank told her. “It’s only a ’67 Chevy, but it runs pretty good.”

  “Yeah, right!” Daphne told him with a laugh. “I like it. I mean, I really like it, but I can’t afford that, Hank. I didn’t get much from selling out my half of the garage. The brothers gave me a good amount, too, but when I think about what I have next to what it costs to live, it really isn’t that much. I’m going to ask Knight if I can waitress again.”

  “I’m sure he’ll arrange that,” Hank told her, “But a ’67 Chevy really isn’t worth all that much. I’d be happy if you took it for, say, $100.”

  “That’s not enough!”

  “No. I checked its Blue Book value, and if it was in mint condition, then it would have some collector value — quite a lot, actually. But this truck is not in mint condition. The axles are different, the gas tank’s been replaced; hell, even the headlights aren’t stock. So, $100 would be just fine for the DMV to accept, and transfer of title won’t cost much since it is based on the value of the sale,” Hank explained.

  Daphne looked from the truck to him. “Why?” she asked with suspicion in her voice.

  “Well, it’s either sell it to you for a hundred, take it to a chop shop, or set fire to it out in the field. So, I’m giving you first dibs.”

  Her eyes softened. “You really hate it that much?”

  “Yes, Daphne, I do, but if you buy it, it’s clean again. It will be Daphne’s truck, and we both love Daphne,” Hank told her. “Why don’t you take it for a drive? Run up to the club with it. We’ll talk when you get back. See if you like her.”

  “I’ve never driven anything like her before,” Daphne confessed.

  “Take it a little easy, then. You know how to drive a stick, right?”

  “Yes, my car is a stick,” Daphne told him.

  “The keys are in it. See you back here in an hour or so,” Hank said.

  Daphne looked to Cyn, who gave her a nod.

  A few minutes later, Daphne had the truck backed onto the access road and was easing it up toward the street.

  By the time she reached the street, she looked like she was more comfortable. The truck wasn’t going to bite her. She signaled and made a left. She gave the truck a little gas and off she went.

  Back inside, Hank got them both a beer.

  Cyn asked, “So, what was that look and grin about?”

  Hank thought for a moment before answering, “Oh, that. Well, she’s a lesbian at heart. She’s been very needy these last few weeks, and fuck, who can blame her for that. I’d be clutching at any branch, too. And you’ve been sleeping next to her for all these weeks. Your compassion is well known, and your love for her as well. You were ready to slice motherfuckers up that one night for her. So, how far have you gone with her?”

  Cyn paused, looking out the window. “Scissors.” She teared up. “I’m sorry, Hank. It was just masturbating with her for a long time. And that was okay, because I’ve masturbated for boyfriends before. But … scissors is cheating. It’s fucking sex.” She looked at him. “Am I going to lose you?”

  “You feel like you’re a lesbian?”

  “No, not at all. And I’ve told her that several times. She told me that she’s going to go to counseling and seek a real lover — but she still needs me right now. I can’t go any further with her. I can’t. I’m just not wired that way. God, for her sake, after what she’s done for us, I wish I was. I’ve laid awake several nights asking, ‘Why not? Why can’t I love her like that?’ I got no answers. I’m just not.”

  “Then, no, you’re not going to lose me,” he told her.

  “Hank?” she asked, her voice ready for a confession. “I do … I do get off. I mean, my body orgasms. Scissors was a shock. I felt repelled and urged on at the same time. But even with all of that conflict going on, I climaxed. More than once.”

  “You wouldn’t be much of a comfort to her if you didn’t,” Hank pointed out, “and climax isn’t really a measuring stick. Even rape victims have admitted they climaxed, and I’m very certain they weren’t enjoying themselves. You have a responsive body, which I do enjoy exploring. I would be very surprised if you told me you didn’t get off. In fact, I would be sure you were lying.”

  She went to him, and he embraced her. She pressed the side of her face against his chest. “How did you know she was a lesbian?”

  “You said this morning that Derrick was her first male. Making the distinction that he was male suggested that her first lover was female.”

  “Ah, right,” she agreed.

  She sat on his lap on the couch and necked with him until they heard the hot rod truck coming down the ro
ad. She put her shirt back on and got her well-fondled ass outside to greet Daphne.

  Daphne walked up to Hank and said, “Well, I’m going to do it to you. I’m going to buy that truck for $100, and I’m not going to let you go back on the deal when your brain kicks into gear later and realizes you sold a fifty grand hot rod to a blond who isn’t even giving you head for a hundred. So, here’s the hundred, and where’s my pink slip?”

  “Glove box, already signed,” Hank told her. “Along with all of the insurance and AAA information.”

  Daphne squealed, “Holy shit, Cyn! Have you ridden in this truck yet?”

  “Actually, no, but now that it’s your truck, I’ll take a ride,” she said.

  Daphne skipped back to the truck. “You should hear the fucking stereo. Fuck!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hank looked over the gathering in his living room. Cyn and Daphne were back at her house. He selfishly hoped that Cyn would come back to spend the night, because this was it, the last night before war. This meeting was for the group of ten that Knight had chosen to meet the plane: Ben, James, Halo, Boston, Gary, Robert Nash, Justin, Angel, Dustin, and Max.

  All of them were solid members of the club, core members, except for Boston — but that would change tonight. Boston would be as solid with the club as anyone could be after this.

  “Alright everyone, I know you have some idea of what we pulling tomorrow night. Now it’s time to tell you how we’re going to pull it off,” Hank began.

  “The plane you are going to meet is a B100 King Air, a light two-engine cargo plane with a payload of about 4700lbs, or just about two metric tons, including crew. It won’t be carrying anything like that. It should have two hundred to three hundred kilos of cocaine and one pilot.”

  “Holy shit,” Angel said. “Can’t get popped with that much shit on us; we’ll never see daylight again.”

  “If you want out, now’s the time. No shame at all,” Hank told him.

  “No, Knight already told us it was going to be a coke drop we were after. Just wasn’t prepared for the size. This is serious stuff,” Angel said.

  “What’s the ground resistance going to be like, Hank?” James Rath asked.

  “None. There won’t be anyone there to meet the plane except you,” Hank replied.

  “No one? How?”

  Hank told them about Orlin’s system. Orlin had a beacon, which was basically a cellphone with a GPS transmitter. This beacon was on the same frequency as the “hound” equipment on the plane, as in “fox and hound.” The hound equipment had a map screen showing the pilot where to go: where the fox was.

  “What I did was create a duplicate of this device, which looks like it is working properly, but in fact isn’t sending out any signal at all. I tested this on the last drop and made sure Orlin bought the fake beacon as the real one. Everything went smooth then, and he’s had it now for five weeks. You are going to another one of Orlin’s landing strips, number 3, and turn on the real beacon there. The pilot will see the location, recognize it as one of the ten, and land the plane for you.”

  “How does he pick his landing strips? Is it just a rotation?” Ben asked.

  “No, it’s fairly random. He has this black velvet bag with lottery balls inside — ten of them, numbered from 0 to 9. I wanted to make sure that he was going to pick airstrip 8, so I switched all of his balls with a set of ten I purchased. All of them have the number 8 on them,” Hank explained.

  “Why did you care which one he was going to pick?” Ben asked.

  “Because I needed to set it up. It’s where I’m going to die. At least, hopefully he’ll buy into the illusion of my death. Just as we get there, the DEA will arrive on the scene, and several explosions will happen on the airstrip itself. During this confusion, I’ll set off my shirt, which is one of those special effect deals. If I time it right, Orlin will see me get shot three times in the chest and then roll down the south side of the mesa, where I already cleared out the big rocks so I don’t crack my skull. The DEA will be rushing up, and Orlin shouldn’t have time to come down to check on me. He’ll either run or give up. Giving up is the best option since he still has no plane, no drugs, and hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Nice, but how are you getting out? Body bag?” Halo asked.

  “No. As soon as the confusion up there is in full swing, I’ll slip out into the black and walk out of the canyon to where I hid my 450 thumper. When it looks like I can get away with it, I’ll be heading back here to get my things, strap them onto the bike, and head north, since everything south will be pissed off at me.”

  “It sounds like Hank has this under control, and it’s well-thought-out,” James said. “Let’s get back to what we are doing, alright?”

  Hank agreed. “Right. So, Knight has acquired two two-ton pickups and two Hummers for you. That should transport you down to the field. Once there, you turn on the beacon. As soon as you hear the plane, you light up the airstrip with flares and the lights from the trucks, like this—“

  Hank walked them through the creation of the makeshift landing strip on the whiteboard he had set up, including where the trucks should be located and where the flares were placed.

  “It’s going to take eight of you to get the flares in place quickly enough. Don’t delay on this. Move as fast as you can. The pilot will leave if he’s left hanging up there too long,” Hank warned.

  “The cargo door is on the side, and the cocaine will be on pallets. There are rollers on the floor so you can pull the pallets out fairly easy, but after that it’s manual labor. Back the trucks up with the gates down, as close as you can, and pull them into the truck, then slide them forward as far as you can to get ready for the next one. You’ll probably only need the one truck, but just to be sure, I asked Knight to make it two. If one breaks down, then you have a chance of getting out of there with some of the dope anyway.

  “Which brings up a point,” Hank said, lifting a finger and getting everyone’s attention. “This isn’t about the coke. It’s about hurting the fuck out of Orlin and getting reprisal for Howey and Margaret. It will definitely help the club coffers getting this much coke, but don’t risk your freedom or your lives over it. If the truck breaks down, load what you can into the other, and walk away from the rest with your head held high.”

  “What about just taking one pallet and burning the rest?” Boston asked.

  “That’s up to you, and if you feel that’s the way to go, do it without hesitation,” Hank said.

  “So we are expecting no hostiles?” Ben asked.

  “I always expect hostiles, and besides, you aren’t the only ones out there. DEA, Border Patrol, bandits, those fuckers that run around in dune buggies with automatic weapons acting like they are a home guard or something. So, James is going to set you up with hardware from the club armory if you don’t have your own. And if those home guard fuckers show up, be sure to shoot first. Because they will fire on you, even if you give up.”

  Ben nodded his head and motioned for Hank to carry on.

  “Good. Now we have four night vision setups for the drivers. Fucking things are expensive as hell, so I only got the four. If anyone has experience with these, sound off now.”

  “I do,” Boston said, followed by Halo, Justin, and Angel.

  “Those are our drivers, then,” Hank told them.

  “Alright, so what then?” James asked.

  “Back to the club, back the trucks into the bays out back, lock ’em down, and deal with them after a good night of sleep,” Hank said. “You are each getting ten grand out of the sales, with the option for bonuses as Knight sees fit, but the ten grand is solid.”

  They talk for another hour or so, going over details and making sure they understood everything, but the plan sounded basic and solid enough: get there, get the dope, get home, don’t get caught.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cyn waited until after nine to call Hank, hoping his meeting was done.

  “Hey, I was wond
ering if you were going to call.”

  Cynthia lifted an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “No reason, just nerves, I guess,” he told her.

  “Yeah, you never know who is really there for you until they show up, right?”

  “Something like that, but nothing to do with you.”

  “Good, because I haven’t come this far with you to ditch you now,” Cyn told him. “But, hey, can Daphne use your spare bedroom tonight?”

  “It’s been awhile since the sheets were changed in there, so I’ll have to remake the bed, but yes, I would be fine with that. Will you be in my bed?”