Ridge Creek

by C L Green

  *****

  “Fuck. I’ve been looking for this for ages.” Jake grunts as he opens another box. He is bending over a box directly inside the doorway of the first storage room he has taken me to. Reaching inside, he rummages around for a short while, flicking polystyrene beads on the floor next to the box. With a big grin, he lifts what looks like a chrome tailpipe for a motorbike out of the box.

  “That’s the point I was trying to make earlier,” I mumble sarcastically from my position leaning against the door frame watching him.

  Shop stock unorganized. Much.

  Flashing me a dark look, he gently places the chrome pipe back in the box and slides the box to his side. Opening a third box I watch as he peers inside. Knitting his brows, I can see he looks confused. “Could have sworn I was going with supply boxes starting with S this month,” he grumbles to himself as he closes the lid on the box and slides it to the side to rest next to the previous two.

  Huh?

  With my interest sparked, I start to pay more attention. Casting my eyes over the three boxes he’s already opened, I notice that all three boxes have been shipped from companies starting with S.

  “That was last month dipstick,” a deep voice from behind me causes me to startle. My heart skipping a few beats.

  Fuck!

  Chuckling softly at my startle, Zane slides past me and into the storage room. Glancing around slowly, I watch as his eyes settle on a stack of boxes to his right. Nodding his head almost imperceptibly towards them, I watch as Jake’s eyes shift across the room and he rolls his eyes at his brother. “T, I was close.”

  Straightening from his position near the door, Jake takes one step towards the boxes in question before Zane’s hand snakes out to grab his elbow. “You sure you wanna do this brother?”

  “Yep,” Jake answers immediately and without hesitation. “She knows about Tony, didn’t bat a fuckin’ eyelid.”

  I watch as Zane’s bright blue eyes widen slightly before they swing to me. Staring intently at me for a few beats, I stare back unfaltering. I’m not sure what his look is telling me but I do know that now is not the time to falter or show concern. I can see he’s suspicious and he’s testing me. He’s wondering whether I am trustworthy.

  “Thank you,” I murmur maintaining my gaze for a few more beats before swinging it to Jake. He is watching me closely as well. He nods.

  Zane sees the movement from the corner of his eye and swings his attention back to Jake. “How far you going with this?”

  “All the way brother. She’s in.”

  I continue to watch as the two brothers spend a few more moments silently assessing each other, their stances stiff and cautious. My pulse involuntarily rises. I sense there is more to this conversation than just the contents of their boxes.

  “Ma likes her,” Zane mumbles as he finally breaks his eye hold on his brother to look at the boxes again.

  Nodding, Jake shakes his brother’s hand from his arm and continues towards the boxes. Zane watches him move across the room for a beat before he turns around and strides past me and down the hallway. He doesn’t make eye contact with me and he doesn’t say a word.

  “Bingo.” My attention draws back to the room as Jake starts dragging a box towards the door, the tape seal broken but the lid still closed. It would appear he has taken a peek inside and closed it again.

  Settling the box near the door, he grabs me by the elbow and hauls me closer. With my eyes locked on the box, I feel like a robot as he gives me a light shove and pushes me towards the box. My sense of impending doom spikes again, but with a deep breath I push it back down. Really, how bad could this be?

  Pulse racing, I reach out and flick the top of the box open. I need to find out what’s in there and deal. Flicking one more glance at Jake, I lean forward and peer in.

  No bodies. Just drugs.

  “Pot?” I mutter softly before wrapping my hand around a large vacuum sealed bag of greenery. Lifting it out, I stare incredulously at it for a moment. Swinging my attention back to Jake I see is frowning. Leaning across to shove the bag in his face I growl, “Just pot?”

  Jakes eyebrows lift and I watch as his eyes widen. He sways away from the package I am waving his face seconds before he reaches up and grabs it from my hand.

  “You had me all stressed the fuck out over pot?” I growl again as I reach out and snatch it back. “I thought I was about to find dead bodies or guns, or grenades or something fucking scary in your stupid fucking boxes. Not just whacky weed. Jesus. Men. Fucking drama queens.” I mutter as I drop the bag back into the box and slam the lid shut again.

  Seriously?

  All the big work-up and I find out he’s got a few bags of pot sitting around in boxes.

  “Is that it?” I snap, annoyed and almost feeling a bit let down because Jake isn’t looking to be quite the badass I thought he actually was.

  “Is that it?” He asks softly, staring at me, his face expressionless. “You do realize pot is illegal, yeah?”

  “Of course I do,” I snap again as I turn to head out the door and back to my bedroom. “A few baggies of weed doesn’t seem worth getting worked up over,” I announce haughtily as I stride down the hallway wondering what all the fuss was about.

  Pot I can handle. It’s just a herb.

  I know that it can be harmful to some, but it’s one of those drugs that I consider it more about the user than the use. To me, it sits at the same level as alcohol. You can drink yourself to death if you want to and the same goes with pot. If you are going to smoke heaps of it every day, expect consequences. A little taken here and there for fun, I do not see as an issue.

  I’ve even read about the health benefits of cannabis. There are some major studies now advising that in small raw dosages it fights cancer, glaucoma and even Alzheimers. I myself, from recent experience can vouch for its use in pain management.

  Why would him having pot in his boxes be such a big issue?

  That’s when I falter. I slow my feet down as one huge blaringly obvious question comes to the forefront of my mind .

  Fuck.

  I rock to stop on one foot, turn and slowly start walking back to the storeroom. Jake is now sitting calmly on a box, his ankles crossed casually in front of him. His face still looks blank and expressionless and I can see his body is relaxed and calm. With his huge frame and massive limbs in relaxed mode, he reminds me of an enormous lion, lazing in his domain.

  Softly closing the door behind me, I walk to another box and take a seat on it. Jake’s eyes follow my every step as I settle myself to a seated position. Clasping my hands together in my lap, I lean forward to watch his face for signs of activity. At a barely audible whisper, I ask, “How much pot is in the boxes?”

  Jake remains still and expressionless. His eyes locked on mine, he looks like he is calculating and assessing his response carefully. I feel the hair rising on the back of my neck.

  “We are not talking a few boxes scattered throughout the shop are we?” I muse as I drag my eyes from his face to cast an eye around the room. As I do this I realize just how many boxes there are. Some hold genuine motorbike parts, some don’t. There would be around thirty boxes in this room alone. There’s a lot more storage rooms than just this one.

  I wonder how many are full of pot.

  Sensing movement, I look back to see Jake scratching his face thoughtfully. “To be honest, I can’t even tell you how many of these boxes have pot in them. We are a bit disorganised. We take orders and we just find a box and fill the order. It’s a bit haphazard. Zane and I have been toying with the idea of detailing packing dates. I can’t even tell how old some of this shit is now.”

  What the fuck?

  “There’s so much pot here you don’t even know how much you have?” I ask as I feel my eyes widening in horror. “How much do you grow to get to that point?”

  Rubbing his forefinger slowly across his chin, Jake looks thoughtful. “Hard to know. We grow hydroponically in old farmhouses.
Luke’s been doing all the setups using solar and wind power to support the power requirements. We only started this venture about sixteen months ago and the first house we set up is about to pull its fifth crop. We get about seventy kilo’s out of each crop. The second house has only been up and running about eight months and the third was set up a short while back. I suppose I can estimate we’ve harvested four hundred kilos so far. We’ve probably sold about half of that but the rest is scattered throughout the building in stock boxes.”

  Fuck!

  “You’ve got about two hundred kilos of pot sitting around in boxes?” I blurt as my mind does somersaults trying to imagine what that’s even worth.

  “Two hundred kilos of high grade pot,” he says as a grin creeps across his face and his eyes start to sparkle. “I’ve actually been thinking it might be worth considering putting a little security on the place.”

  “Two hundred fucking kilos?” I confirm again, knitting my brows. “How much is that even worth?”

  “About a million dollars to us, but a lot more to someone else. We’ve got two crops about ready to harvest and the new house is gunna start producing soon as well. We are spending more time looking into potential buyers these days than selling because I am getting more and more sensitive about whom we deal with. Bigger crops, bigger risks. We need to be more careful.”

  Jesus Christ I’ve moved in with an up-and-coming drug mogul.

  “Holy shit,” I mumble as lean forward to put my head in my hands. And then another thought crosses my mind. “Is Jake and Zane’s Harley Shop a genuine business?”

  “Yeah,” he replies instantly. “It doesn’t do that well though. It does do just enough business to cover the public eye view of boxes coming and going however, which is the reason we keep it going.”

  “Do you any other drugs? Harder drugs? Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “No other drugs. As to anything else, there might be a few things but they have more to do with individual people and they are not my stories to tell.”

  Jake pushes up from his box and steps towards me. Placing a hand lightly against the back of my neck he asks, “What do you think?”

  Breathing out a huge sigh I wonder what I do think.

  Pot? It’s not the worst thing on earth and who am I to judge Jake on how he makes a living? Who am I to judge a person who has only shown me kindness since the first moment I laid eyes on him. Someone willing to protect me and offer me a chance at a new life. Someone who didn’t question my background or judge me in any way. Someone, who I have a niggling feeling in my gut I could grow to love.

  “Where does Holders fit into all this?” I ask, still not able to lift my face from my hands as I consider all the information I have so far.

  “Nothing,” Jake answers instantly again. “That’s Ma’s and it’s separate to all this. Zane and I paid for that legitimately from trust funds we received when our father died. It was a tribute to our father who was a qualified chef. It gave Ma something to focus on after his death. She was lost without him and needed a new direction.” Sliding his hand slowly down my cheek, he slides his finger under my chin and gently tips my head back so I can see his eyes. “What do you think?”

  Slowly chewing the inside of my mouth as I think, I find myself taking in the view that is Jake in front of me. An enormous man. A gorgeous man. A man who has proven to me that he takes care of his own.

  What do I think?

  “Are you asking me whether selling pot fits within my new morality levels?”

  “Yes. And no. I don’t give a fuck about the pot. That is what it is and you can either deal or you can’t. I want to know what you think of me. Us. You know what I am. You now know what I do. Is it going to change whatever it is that I can feel growing between us?”

  Drawing a slow breath through my nose I already know my answer. I knew it hours ago when he told me he’d killed Tony.

  “No.”

  I watch as a tiny smile, lifts the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

  I grin back at him. “You suck at running a business.”

  “I know,” he agrees as his tiny smile turns into a huge grin. His eyes sparkling brightly. I get the feeling the weight of the world has lifted from his shoulders.

  “I’m gunna fix that,” I announce as I start to push myself up from my box.

  “Are you now,” he murmurs as his hand slides from my chin and down my neck towards my breast.

  “I am. To make this work, we need the Harley shop thriving. As far as I can see you also need an ordering system…” My sentence cuts off as his fingers find their target and tweak my nipple sending a jolt of electricity down to my core.

  Stopping myself from buckling at the knees I straighten fully and lean in to his chest. My head lolling forwards until my lips connect with his neck. “An online ordering system,” I murmur softly while blowing warm air against his neck.

  “Huh?” I hear him grunt as lets go of my nipple to grab me by the hips and push me away from his body to look me in the eyes again. “What do you mean an online ordering system?”

  “I’m gunna build you a website and I’m gunna sell your products for you online. All of them. Harley parts and pot.”

  “You’re fuckin’ shittin’ me?” He says looking confused. “I’ve just told you I’m a fuckin’ drug dealing criminal and you’re already designing a website in your head to help me with that?”

  Smirking, I lean forward and nip his bottom lip playfully. “Exactly.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters as I feel his hands start to roam up my back.

  Oooh, time for round three.

  Giving his lip one last nip, I lean back to look at his face. “Just one more thing…”

  I feel his hands falter on my back as a brief look of concern flashes across his face.

  “I need to bring Emma in.”

  Jake stiffens and his look of concern turns into an outright look of alarm. “No fuckin’ way…” he starts before I cut him off quickly.

  “She’s gunna be our new security manager.”

  “No she’s fuckin’ not!” Jake snarls.

  “Yes she is.” I snap back, annoyed that he is getting so upset so fast.

  “She builds people new identities, can hack into just about any government system on this planet and can run background checks for us. She’s in.” I announce firmly, my eyes narrowing.

  I watch as Jake’s eyes widen. “She’s that fuckin’ good?”

  “From what I saw yesterday of my new profile she’s better than good. She’s the best.”

  Jake studies me intently for a few moments before nodding and relaxing. “I’ll run it past Zane first but I guess we could use the help.”

  Smiling softly, I lean back in to nibble on his bottom lip again. “Perfect. Can we go back to bed now?”

  Jake doesn’t answer me. Instead he grabs me by the waist, hauls me over his shoulder and swings to open the door. I squeal as my head narrowly misses crashing with the door frame. “Shh,” he grunts as he swings the door open and strides down the hall to the bedroom.

  Smiling, I do.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tickets

  “Jesus,” Emma murmurs.

  “I know,” I murmur back.

  “Do you think they’d get shitty if we threw a bucket of water on them?” Emma asks with a hopeful look in her eye.

  “I’m thinking the positives would outweigh the negatives,” I mumble as her eyes widen again and I swing my attention back to the shop front. We are both leaning against the door frame between the shop front and the communal room watching the show.

  The show being Jake, Zane, Luke and three other men we don’t know, hot and sweaty, grunting and groaning as they drag massive flat packs of shelving into the shop front. It’s almost more than a girl can take watching them as their muscles bulge left, right and center as they maneuver the packages through the front door. Emma and I agree that our favorite moments are when they bend down to pick up or put d
own heavy loads.

  The shop front is already looking better. True to his word, Jake spent the day with Zane sorting through the boxes in the shopfront and removing any boxes that shouldn’t have been there. They then removed and stacked most of the remaining boxes in the communal room to create clear space to install the new shelves.

  Arriving home after our shopping trip with Luke, it was surprising to discover they had achieved so much so quickly. Judging by the number of men behind us in the communal room drinking beer, I do however suspect they had some help.

  From his position holding the front door open for the men to shuffle through, Pops calls out softly. “I’m thinking these boys need cold beer delivered by the pretty woman folk.” He is grinning huge and I can see by the amusement in his eyes that he can see the enjoyment in ours.

  Emma chuckles and flicks him a nod, grabbing me by the elbow to drag me back through door.

  Walking back across the communal room towards the bar, I dart my eyes around the room. At a quick count, I reckon there are about fifteen men scattered throughout the room. Where the hell did they all come from? Most of them I’ve never seen before, many of them look rough.

  Rough as in, heavyset, slightly overweight, bearded biker men with low quality tattoos in unusual places.

  Spotting Bill and Towball at the pool table, I flick them a small smile. I then settle my eyes on the bar to avoid making eye contact with the many men whose eyes have locked on the two woman wandering among them.

  “It’s like a fuckin’ bull ants nest in here,” Emma mutters quietly and I nod my instant agreeance.

  “Why do you think they are here?” I ask quietly as we round to the back of the bar. Emma shrugs and flicks me a ‘stop talking, I think they can hear you’, look. “Surely they didn’t need this much help to clear the shopfront?” I murmur again.

  Flicking me an annoyed look because I didn’t manage to uphold my silence for more than a brief second, Emma heads straight to the fridge and grabs two six packs of beer. Handing me one, she grabs a bottle top opener off the bar and gives me a shove to turn me around and point me towards the shop front door again.