It had been a very long night, and if the way the phone was already ringing at eight o’clock in the morning was any way to gauge it, it was going to be a very long day too. Good, Cody needed a long day. His uncle came in at nine thirty and helped out with the fixing, and Ricardo, a local kid, came in at eleven to take over phone duties.
When the numbers on the screen matched up to the numbers on paper, Cody decided to get some of the real work done. He started with a minivan that belonged to a soccer mom who needed an oil change and new spark plugs, then moved on to a Toyota with shit suspension. Minutes ticked by and his hands got greasy, and Cody’s thoughts started to focus onto a single undeniable truth. He’d be whatever Donna Mason needed him to be. He worked right through lunch and might have gone through dinner too if Uncle Gary hadn’t waved a six-piece of fried chicken and an order of mashed potatoes under his nose.
“Eat,” he’d been instructed. “And then go work your magic on the computers. I can’t make the order make sense.”
Cody had used the time in between number verifications to check his phone. His heart stopped when he saw a text from Donna. It was a few hours old but said, in that straightforward, no-nonsense way that she had, that Kyle was doing fine and she thought he’d want to know. That was nice, but it wasn’t all that Cody wanted to know. He went through three attempts at a text before her sent, Good to know, thanks for keeping me updated. You okay?
Then, before he could send her five more texts about nothing in the hopes that she would respond, he turned back to his dinner and the spreadsheet for the body shop. It was going on ten o’clock when everything was finally squared away. Ricardo and Uncle Gary were long since gone. Cody realized that he had put in a fourteen-hour day. Maybe he should head home, take a shower, eat something else because that chicken had done nothing but remind him that he was starving. That was the smart thing to do, but he wasn’t going to do it. Cody Bannik did not end his day with spreadsheets and ordering layouts.
Oh, management was all fine and dandy, but it did not compare to the glory of getting greasy under the hood of a real classic, and the sapphire blue ’78 Dodge Challenger currently sitting in bay three was definitely that.
“All right, beautiful. Let’s see what’s going on here.”
According to the diagnostics and the tinkering that his uncle had done near closing, the Dodge was overheating for no reason at all. Not a good thing. A pretty car like this needed good, honest tending. He wondered who owned it, and if they’d be willing to sell. He had a decent amount of money tucked away.
Would Donna like it, Cody wondered. She loved fast cars, things that were sleek and shiny. Did they have to be new? Would she appreciate the soft lines and detail work that went into a classic beauty like this? He thought she would. He could already see her, sitting back in the driver’s seat with her hand on the stick shift, that mane of autumn colored hair flying around her face as she flew down the interstate.
“What the hell has put that stupid look on your face?”
Cody nearly thwacked his head on the hood of the car when the boss’s voice reverberated a few inches from his ear. For all the man was big as life he moved like a cat. Cody cursed and nearly threw a tool at the other man.
“Can’t you see I’m doing very precious work?”
Slade “The Boss” McGee had a wide grin and a nose that had been broken at least twice. There was a small scar that ran through his left brow that made him look dangerous. In Cody’s opinion that scar was a warning, and lo to any and all who ignored it. His leather jacket was fringed down the sleeves and marked with a simple black square across the right breast with white capital letters that read “PRESIDENT.”
“Yeah, I can see that, but we got business.”
Cody raised his brow. “We do?”
“Yeah, we do.” The tone was so cold and sure of itself that Cody couldn’t help but think of Donna. Still, getting bitched at by a pretty redhead in a business suit was a little better than getting the voice of the ice king from the boss.
“All right.” Cody took a moment to close the hood of the Dodge. He wondered what had put that angry look into McGee’s eyes, and why it was focused on him. Was it the fact that he hadn’t been at the pool hall as much lately? It wasn’t unusual for Cody to spend more time at his shop or at home than with the club. He was just a lieutenant, an enforcer, not second-in-command and not even third. Yeah, things had been left in his hands while the other guys had been gone, but that had been a cakewalk. He tossed his cleaning rag over one shoulder and leaned against one of the pillars that separated one work bay from the next. “What’s up?”
Slade crossed his arms over his chest. It made the tattoos on his bare forearms dance with the shift in hard wrought muscle. Cody had wondered once whether or not the boss had ever been one of those lifting champion guys. Not the pretty body on the front of muscle magazines, but the kind that you might mistake for husky until they started swinging. The boss cleared his throat. “Did you or did you not use the club funds to get out that little scrap of nothing?”
Cody shoved his thumbs in the large pockets of his coveralls. Is that what this was about? The money? Seemed like a piss-poor reason for McGee to come down here and be mildly threatening. “No, I didn’t.” When the president of the White Tigers continued to give Cody a thousand-yard glare, Cody held up his hands in surrender. “I thought about it. Even got the money out of the safe. But at the end of the day I didn’t do it.”
The boss dragged his tongue over his teeth and shook his head. “Goddammit! Don’t play this smartass college boy crap with me, Librarian. You took the money out with the intent of handing it over to the goddamned police to help your little friend. What did you have to go and do a stupid thing like that for? Kyle Mason is a teenager who doesn’t have his head screwed on straight. He isn’t a prospect, and he sure as hell isn’t a member of the club.”
“I didn’t use the money for that. I put the money back,” Cody repeated.
“But you were going to, which is damn near as bad in my book,” the boss snarled, “We help club members and the family of club members only. Now, unless you have supplanted Bob and put yourself into Liz Mason’s bed while I was gone, Kyle ain’t your kid. He ain’t your brother, and he isn’t—”
“He might as well be. He helps out in this shop. He runs things for the club. He’s a good kid,” Cody defended.
“He’s a stupid kid. He gets into trouble, and he’s a show-off.”
“Who in this entire club doesn’t fit that description once in a while?” Cody demanded. “Hell, we get Twitch out of trouble every other month for being a show-off.”
“That little runt has put his time and efforts into this club. He’s earned the ability for us to come to his rescue. Kyle hasn’t. He’s a punk kid who needs to do a lot of growing. And since he isn’t family—”
“I’m dating his sister,” Cody spat out, pushing himself off the pillar and taking a step toward Slade. It was an aggressive movement, and both men knew it. “I’ve been dating her for a while.”
The boss froze. It wasn’t out of fear. Cody knew that. He couldn’t remember a time that the boss had ever been afraid of anything. There was a small tic in the square jaw of the big man. For a full half a minute, he did nothing but stare at Cody. “You wanna run that shit by me again?”
“Donna Mason came back into town a day or two after you left. We’ve been seeing one another.”
It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. It didn’t matter. Cody could handle the punishment that the club might deal out to him for using club funds to help out someone who wasn’t legitimately part of the White Tigers, but there was a chance the punishment might extend to Kyle, and maybe even Donna. Cody could lie to protect the two of them.
“You stupid little shit. You stuck it to Donna Mason?” The scoff was loud enough to echo across the walls of the shop.
There was something about the way he said her name that had Cody st
anding up straighter. He said “Donna Mason” like it was a prayer and a curse all at the same time. It was a well-known fact that Slade McGee didn’t treat women particularly well. Even his Old Lady said as much.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, boss, but yeah. I am. What of it?”
“We don’t use money to help random bitches we plow.”
Cody felt his hand clench and unclench at his side. He didn’t like anyone talking about Donna like that, and he liked it even less that it was coming out of Slade McGee’s mouth. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. He’d heard the president of the White Tigers use far worse terms when it came to women.
“She’s not random.”
“You thinking about making her your Old Lady?”
“No, I’m thinking about leaving the club.”
Cody didn’t realize that he meant it until the words came out of his mouth. He was thinking of leaving the club. He was thinking about leaving it all behind: Twitch, Hulk, and everyone else. Cody wanted to be good enough for her, and she had made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t willing to be with a criminal.
The boss looked him over and then cursed. “You mean it, don’t you, you stupid little—” Quick as a snake, Cody felt the boss’s hand on the back of his head, hauling him closer so that their foreheads were pressed against one another like two rams who were midfight. McGee’s breath was laced with cigarette smoke and brandy. “Does she know?”
“That I’m thinking of leaving?”
“No, nitwit, that you’ve got a two-inch pecker!” McGee slapped his forehead against Cody’s with enough force that he saw spots. As an enforcer, Cody knew how to fight. As a lieutenant underneath Slade McGee, he knew better than to fight back. He didn’t know who would win. Slade was a heavy-handed bastard who could use his fists like a hammer. Cody was faster and had dropped bigger men, but there was no upside to a fight. If Slade won, then Cody would probably end up dead. If Cody won, then the club would be forced to respond… and Cody would probably end up dead. So rather than fight, he stood there and took the headbutt and let the man sneer. “Yes! Does she know you are thinking of getting out?”
“No, I haven’t discussed it with her. She’s been dealing with Kyle.”
McGee released him as suddenly as he had snapped him out. “I’ll just bet she is. I’ll fucking bet. Fine, you want out? We’ll hold a meeting, put it to a vote. See if you get out. You know what happens if you leave.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“It’s blood in and blood out. You know the rules.”
“I remember.” Cody did remember. He remembered just how hard the whole crew had hit him in order to make sure that he understood what he was getting into, and what might happen if he screwed up. He knew. He knew it would be worse on the way out because some of the guys would feel betrayed. “Why are you so damn pissed about this? Plenty of men have settled down and left. Not all of us have Old Ladies like yours who want to be part of this life.”
Slade shoved one meaty fist into a pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes that had been squashed to hell and back. “I don’t want to lose my best lieutenant.” He tapped a cigarette out with an expert flick of his wrist. “We are thinking of expanding. Patching in the little crew in the next town over, starting to make a business that can really do some damage.”
Cody raised his brow. “I thought that the White Tigers didn’t expand. That we liked local.”
“I’m not talking about going to Ireland, you wise-mouthed ass, I’m talking about making sure our area is ours. Not that complicated.”
“But then you’ll have more enforcers to choose from,” Cody said. “Some who are ex-military, if I remember the guys you are talking about. I’m not a great fighter.”
“Hell you aren’t. Maybe it’s all that Native blood running through your veins, but I’ve never seen a man take someone down as fast as you do. Besides, you know how to keep all the bikes running. That’s a hell of a skill no one else has.”
“I could still fix things for the club.” Cody shrugged. “Be stupid business not to.”
Slade took a long puff on his cigarette and shook his head. “Yeah, it’d be stupid. You’d also be stupid to think that Donna Mason would want to stay in Carson when she did everything she could to get the hell out of this town.”
It was the bitter way he spat out the words that had Cody thinking. Donna had talked about her ex, another guy who rode around on a bike and had used her all up. Slade had a real bad reputation with women, right up until Pamela had settled him down, at least as much as any person could settle Slade McGee down. Cody’s fist clenched at his side as he wondered if Slade McGee had put that cold distant look in Donna’s eyes as she talked about her past.
He was just opening his mouth to ask when the phone in his pocket started to vibrate. Cody thought about ignoring it, but since it was going on eleven at night there was every chance that it was someone important. When he tugged it out of his pocket, Donna’s name shined up at him.
“Is it her?” Slade asked.
“Yeah,” Cody responded, his finger already on the Answer button.
“Take it. I gotta head out anyway. I’ll let you know when the meeting is. You can make your case to the rest of the club.”
Cody shook his head and hit the button. “Hey, what’s—”
“I thought your little club didn’t deal in drugs, Cody. Isn’t that what you told me?”
Cody’s mind came to a halt. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Kyle went to that stupid concert, and he was caught with drugs. Where the hell did he get them?” Her voice was loud and shrill enough that it echoed through the now empty shop.
Cody shook his head. Kyle? With drugs? It didn’t make any sense. The White Tigers had clear rules on drugs. They weren’t allowed. Anyone caught pushing drugs was dealt with immediately. No one sold in Carson, no one who wanted to keep their legs.
“I thought we decided that he couldn’t go to the concert in the first place.”
“Really?” she sneered. “Is that what you are going to be taking out of this conversation? Don’t turn your guilt around on me.”
Cody felt a sick sensation crawl through his belly. Something else was going on here. There was something that wasn’t adding up. Kyle wasn’t supposed to be at the concert, with drugs or without them. He’d never known Donna to relent on much, and this seemed well outside of what she’d be willing to go easy on.
“I’m not,” he finally said. “I just feel like I’m not getting the whole story.”
“What more is there to know? Kyle went to the concert, and he was caught with… something. I don’t even know what. I was contacted by the security office. Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it matters. Was it pot? Was it crystal meth? It matters.”
“I don’t know,” she snapped back with enough force that he held the phone away from his ear an extra inch. This wasn’t like her—this wasn’t Donna Mason. She was cold and confident, even when she was pissed. This felt wrong. Cody clenched and unclenched his fist.
“What do you want me to do?” he demanded. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”
“You could start with answering my question. Where did my little brother get drugs in this supposedly safe backwater town?”
Cody didn’t know, but he was damn sure he was going to find out. He hadn’t been lying when he told Slade that Kyle might as well be a little brother. The kid meant a lot to him, and he wanted to know what was going on.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m going to find out. You stay here. I’m going to go get him.”
“What? Why are you going to get him?”
“Because, between the two of us, I don’t have a problem with paying some minimum-wage concert security dude to keep this quiet so that it doesn’t go on Kyle’s record and immediately land him in jail. You are obviously incapable of keeping him at home, so I’m going to go get him.”
“I beg
your pardon?”
He sneered, “Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to beg.”
He hung up the phone before she could respond. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason that he was so pissed, but that didn’t stop the feeling from being a hot simmer in his stomach. Something was going on, and he was going to find out what.
Chapter Seventeen
Donna
Donna’s BMW Z4 Roadster barely shuddered as she hit a hundred going down the highway. It did very little to cool her anger. In the past few weeks, breaking the speed limit laws hadn’t given her quite the thrill of relaxation that it used to. When she got back home she was going to have a spa weekend and then bury herself in work for the next seven years. That was where she belonged and what she ought to be doing.
BAD INFLUENCE: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 23