Loving The Biker (MC Biker Romance)

by Cassie Alexandra

  He leaned over and kissed Raina goodbye, then my sister and I were walking out the door.

  “How’s Billy doing?”

  “Good,” she said. “He asks about you all the time. You really need to stop by.”

  “I know. Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow and take him to the park.”

  “He’s love that,” she replied.

  I grinned. “Good. I’ll check my work schedule and see what time I get off.”

  “Where you working tomorrow?”

  “The auto body shop. Dou want a ride?” I asked, nodding toward my bike.

  “No. I drove,” she said, digging in her purse for her keys.

  “Okay. I’m going to grab a sandwich really quick,” I said, suddenly craving a Reuben. “Do you want me to pick you up anything? I’m heading over to Red’s Deli.”

  “No, thank you. I brought Tank food already. We ate in his office.”

  “Okay. Meet you at the center in about forty minutes?”

  “Sure,” she said, getting into her car. “Drive safely.”

  “You, too,” I replied, getting on my bike. I put my helmet and sunglasses on, then followed her out of the parking lot.

  Five

  Terin

  After spending the next couple of hours going through files, I rubbed my temples and sat back in the chair.

  “Fun stuff, huh?” remarked Fred, walking past me with a cup of coffee.

  “A laugh a minute,” I replied, smiling at him

  He nodded toward the clock. “You should take a break and grab a bite to eat.”

  “You know, that’s a good idea,” I answered, my stomach growling at the mention of food.” Anyone want me to bring back lunch?”

  Pen, whose desk was nearest to mine, asked where I was going.

  “I don’t know. I’m in the mood for a salad or maybe a sandwich,” I replied.

  “I know just the place,” he said. “You should check out that deli on Fourth Street. They’ve got the best Philly cheese steak sandwiches in town. They were featured on some food station show last summer, too.”

  “Red’s Delicatessen?” I asked, recalling the place. I’d never been there but had heard the food was amazing.

  “That’s it. Here,” he said, reaching into his wallet. He stood up and walked over to my desk. “You fly and I’ll buy.”

  I waved my hand. “No. I’ll certainly go, but you don’t have to pay for my lunch.”

  “Nonsense. You can buy next time,” he said, throwing a twenty dollar bill down in front of me. “Just get me one of those Phillies and a bag of pretzels. That’s all I ask.”

  I picked the bill up. “Okay, thank you. Anyone else?”

  “Could you bring back a piece of their blueberry pie?” asked Bronson. “I’ll pay you when you get back.”

  “Sure.” I turned to Fred, who was now sitting down at his desk. “Do you want anything?”

  He held up a brown bag. “No. My wife actually made me a lunch today. Thanks, though.”

  “How is she doing?” I asked, knowing that his wife, Lilly, had recently lost her sister to lung cancer.

  “Oh, she’s doing alright,” he replied, removing his eyeglasses. He began wiping them with a handkerchief. “She has her good days and bad ones. They were so close.”

  “They were twins, weren’t they?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yes. It’s been very difficult but… I’m hoping that when our granddaughter Jackie comes to stay with us during Christmas, she’ll have something to smile about again.”

  “Jackie is in college, right?” I asked, knowing how much he loved talking about her.

  “Yes,” he replied, his face beaming. “She’s studying to be a doctor.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I replied. “How many years of schooling does she have left?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, about ten. She wants to be a brain surgeon.”

  “Wow. Ambitious girl,” said Pen, on the other side of me.

  “Tell me about it. If anyone can do it she can. Smart as a whip and has the memory of an elephant,” he said. “Unlike her grandfather. I have a hard time remembering what I ate this morning.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve got a great memory,” said Pen. He looked at me. “Doesn’t matter who he meets, this guy remembers first and last names, telephone numbers, and even eye colors. He’s the go-to guy for details.”

  “Impressive,” I replied, meaning it. “She must get it from you then.”

  “I reckon so,” admitted Fred, smiling proudly. “But she definitely gets her beauty and sweetness from Lilly and her mother, Priscilla.”

  “Come on now, I’m sure you made all the women swoon back in the day,” I told him. I figured Fred to be in his late sixties now, but with his sparkling blue eyes and contagious smile, it was easy to see that he’d once been a very good looking guy.

  He gave me a modest smile. “I held my own. That’s for sure. Caught me a beauty though. I suppose that says something.”

  “I think she caught you,” I replied, winking. “Anyway, I’d better get going.” I shoved the money into my purse and stood up. “I’ll be back.”

  “Be careful. That’s a bad area of town,” said Fred, putting his eyeglasses back on.

  I bit back a smile. “I think I can handle it.”

  “He’s right, although, it’s not so bad during lunchtime,” said Pen. “Just stay out of the alley.”

  “You know I’m a cop too, right? I carry a gun and even know how to use it,” I said, winking.

  “Sorry,” said Pen, smiling. “You just remind me so much of my daughter. You even look a little like her.”

  “Who’s your daughter?” asked Bronson. “Mila Kunis?”

  “Mila Kunis? Who’s that?” asked Pen.

  “An actress. She was the dark-haired hottie in ‘That 70s Show’. Jackie. O’Brien kind of looks like her, but with red hair. You ever think of dying it black?”

  “Why would I want to do that?” I answered dryly.

  “Black would look good on you. The color of your hair is almost too bright,” he answered.

  “Unlike you?” I muttered.

  Bronson grunted. “You know what your problem is, you think you’re so much better than everyone else.”

  “Not really,” I said. “Just you.”

  Fred and Pen laughed.

  A vein began to throb on his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind. “Dyke,” he said under his breath as he turned away.

  “What was that?” I asked sharply. I really didn’t like this guy. No wonder the only pie Bronson gets is the kind he has to pay for.

  Ignoring me, he began typing on his laptop.

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Pen, scowling at Bronson’s back. “He’s just mad because you called him out earlier, in front of Walters.”

  “Whatever,” said Bronson, over his shoulder. “I didn’t do anything to O’Brien. Not on purpose, at least.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Yeah, just like you didn’t call me a ‘dyke’. By the way, my cousin is gay so you’d better watch your mouth or next time, I will report you.”

  “Maybe I should report you for annoying the fuck out of me,” he said.

  “You know, they say that excessive swearing is a weakness. It shows ones inability to speak intelligently or prove a valid point,” I said.

  “Maybe you should think about swearing more, since you’re not making any valid points either,” he retorted

  “Ignore him,” said Pen. “He’s not worth your attention.”

  “That’s for sure.” I headed toward the door. “I’ll be back.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” said Bronson.

  I gave him a dirty look.

  He snorted. “I’m just giving you shit. You should learn to take a couple of jabs without blowing a fucking gasket. It’s what we do here. Give each other crap from time to time. It relieves some of the stress we have to deal with.”

  “Seems like you’re creating more
than relieving it,” I replied. “And this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve worked with other detectives before and there’s a difference between giving each other shit and being down-right insulting.”

  “Let me guess – it’s your time of the month?” he replied.

  I rolled my eyes. “You really are something special, aren’t you? Your wife must love it when you’re working overtime.”

  “Leave her alone,” said Fred, when Bronson opened his mouth to retaliate. “Enough is enough.”

  “Oh, she’s fine…. Right O’Brien?” said Bronson leaning back in his chair. He clasped his fingers over his pot belly. “Just like she said before… this isn’t her first rodeo. And… if she’s going to dish it out, she needs to learn how to take, right?”

  As far as I was concerned, I’d taken enough. “Sure. Whatever you say, Bronson,” I said dryly. “I’ll be back.”

  “Don’t forget the pie,” he said as I walked toward the doorway.

  Resisting the urge to pull out my gun and shoot him in his pie-hole, I left the office.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, I was in line at the deli, and waiting for the cashier to ring up my order, when I noticed two men walk in. Both were dressed in Devil’s Rangers cuts. Knowing that the deli was far from their Davenport clubhouse, I wondered what they were doing in Jensen. As good as the food probably was, at Red’s, I had an inkling that it wasn’t the deli that had brought them into town.

  “Pete here?” one of them asked as they stopped next to the register.

  “He’s in his office,” said the cashier, looking uneasy.

  “Tell him that Ronnie is here and I want to talk to him,” he said, grabbing a mint from the candy dish next to the register. He was tall, thin, and had a dark Mohawk. There were pock marks on his face and he had a small white scar near his lower lip. As he popped the mint into his mouth, I noticed he had the words “Fuck You” tattooed onto his knuckles.

  “Uh, sure,” she replied and then hurried away.

  The other biker grabbed a mint too and as he opened the wrapper, winked at me.

  “Hey sweet thing. How are you doing today?” he asked, smiling. He was bald and muscular, with yellow teeth, and plugs in his ears. He had a pot plant tattooed on one forearm and on the other, the Devil riding a horse. Underneath that were the words, “Devil’s Ranger”.

  “I’m doing fine,” I said, noticing that he smelled like reefer and his pupils were dilated. “How about yourself?”

  His eyes wandered past my gray blazer, over my matching wool skirt and to my black pumps.

  “You certainly look like you’re doing fine. You here alone?” he asked, grabbing another piece of candy.

  Before I could answer, his buddy, Ronnie, laughed. “Really Chips? Even if she is alone, a classy broad like her isn’t going to give you the time of day, dumbass.”

  “Fuck you,” said Chips. He turned back to look at me. “Sorry about my friend. He can be a real dickhead at times. Anyway, what’s your name, darlin’?”

  “Terin,” I replied as someone else behind the deli counter handed me my order. I noticed that the young man, who was about eighteen, looked a little frightened. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and went back to help the next customer.

  “Terin, huh? That’s an interesting name. Looks like you have enough food there to feed an army,” said Chips.

  “Close. I’ve got some hungry co-workers that love to eat. So, your name is Chips?” I replied.

  “That’s my road name,” he replied.

  “Why that one?” I asked.

  “I eat a lot of chips.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “That being said, my lady friends like to call me ‘Box’.”

  “Is that right?” I answered, rolling my eyes inwardly.

  He laughed. “Sure is. So, you going to give me your number or what?”

  Before I could answer, the cashier returned.

  “Pete coming up her?” he asked.

  I stared at the cashier’s face, noticing that she looked even more anxious than before. She licked her lips and told them that Pete wasn’t around.

  “Bullshit. His car is parked in back,” said Ronnie, raising his voice.

  “Really? Maybe he went for a walk. Your total comes to twenty nine dollars and fifteen cents,” said the cashier, ringing me up.

  “Okay.” I handed her my credit card. Her hand shook as she swiped it in the machine.

  “Went for walk. Right,” said Ronnie, nodding to Chips. “Let’s go find the fucker.”

  They both walked around the cashier and headed toward the back office.

  “Shit,” she said, looking frightened.

  “What do they want with Pete?” I asked her.

  The cashier began biting her nails. “I don’t know.”

  “Was he back there?”

  She didn’t reply.

  Sighing, I pulled out my badge. “Is he in trouble with those guys? If he is, you’d better say something. I can help.”

  She hesitated and then confessed. Lowering her voice, she said, “I think so. He slipped out the back when he heard they were here, looking for him.”

  I was surprised that she’d been courageous enough to lie to the two bikers. I looked around the dining area. Fortunately, there were only a couple of people eating. Some of the other patrons had left when the two bikers had entered the place. “Okay. Just to be on the safe side, tell the rest of the staff and customers to leave.”

  Two people that were waiting in line and listening, didn’t even hesitate. They anxiously headed for the front door, not looking back. The cashier spoke to her co-workers and then made her way to the dining room while I crept down the hallway to see what was happening with Pete.

  “See, that piece of shit was here. The coffee is still hot,” said Chips angrily. “Look, there’s back door. He probably ran out that way. Let’s go and get our money.”

  Warning bells went off in my head. If Pete owed them money, the situation was just as dangerous as I’d assumed. I knew that I should call for backup, but every moment wasted could prove more dangerous for Pete. The Devil’s Rangers were violent and I knew that if the deli owner was trying to run from them, he probably didn’t have their money. I opened up my jacket and unclipped my Glock from the holster.

  “Should I get out of here?” whispered the cashier, now standing next to me.

  “Yeah. Do me a favor and call the police.”

  Nodding, she turned around and disappeared.

  Holding my gun, I entered the empty office and found the doorway Chips and Ronnie had exited. Peeking outside, I noticed the bikers surrounding a sedan. Ronnie had his gun pointed at the man driving and was motioning for him to get out of the car.

  Pete rolled down the river. “I’ve got your money but it’s in the bank,” he cried looking frightened. “I was just going to withdraw what I owed you.”

  “You said that yesterday and never showed up at the clubhouse,” said Ronnie, moving closer to the car.

  Pete laughed nervously. “I know you’re not going to believe this, but I ended up getting a flat tire. Once I got to the bank, it was closed and I could only withdraw three hundred dollars from the ATM. I knew you wanted it all, and was afraid that you’d be pissed. That’s why I didn’t show up last night. I was going to bring you the entire amount today though. I swear to God.”

  “Always an excuse,” said Ronnie.

  “It’s the truth,” said Pete.

  “Let’s get in the car with him,” Ronnie said to Chips. “We’ll take a ride with Old Pete here and make sure he doesn’t have any more car trouble along the way.”

  “Yeah. Sure. You guys can ride down with me. Just so you know though, I might not have the entire amount,” said Pete. “But, I have most of it.”

  “You were supposed to have the entire amount yesterday. You know what happens when we don’t get what’s owed to us, don’t you?” threatened Ronnie.

  “I’ll have the rest by Friday. I s
wear,” said Pete, his voice cracking.

  “Friday will be too late. Get in the fucking car, Chips,” ordered Ronnie.

  “What about Gomer?” asked Chips. “We should tell him we’re leaving.”

  “Police! Put your gun down!” I ordered, stepping outside.

  Ronnie turned and aimed the gun toward me.

  “Drop your gun!” I hollered, grateful that the private parking lot was small and deserted. Behind that was an alleyway and a mini mall that wasn’t being used for anything at the moment.

  “You drop yours,” he answered, cocking his.

  “You’re a fucking cop?” called out Chips, staring at me in shock.

  “Yes, and if you don’t put your gun down, Ronnie, you’re going to jail,” I said calmly.

  “Mind your own business, pig,” said Ronnie, his gun still raised. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “It does now. Lower your weapon,” I said firmly.

  A smile spread across his face and someone grabbed me from behind, snatching my gun in the process. Furious, I elbowed the person as hard as I could. I heard a grunt and the man released me but not before I elbowed him a second time and knocked the gun out of his hand.

  “Dammit, Gomer!” groaned Ronnie. “You really are a pussy.”

  I quickly scrambled toward my Glock and was about to pick it up when Chips grabbed me around the waist and spun me away.

  “Whoa, darlin’,” he laughed and pulled me against his chest. “You’re not having a lot of luck today, are you?”

  “Let me go!”

  I struggled to break free, but his arm was like a steel vice, holding me against still.

  “You’re a little fire-cracker,” said Chips, enjoying himself. “That’s for sure,

  Angry, I did a reverse head-butt, hitting Chips in the jaw, which hurt like hell. He grunted in pain but instead of releasing me, he pulled out a knife.

  “Don’t move or I’ll slit your throat,” he snarled, his fingers wrapping around my bun.

  I froze. “Fine,” I muttered, feeling the tip of the knife against my throat. I raised my hands up slowly. “I’m not moving.”

  “Good girl,” he said.

  “It would be wise for you to let me go,” I said, my teeth clenched.