A Civilian for Silo

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “What the fuck?” Silo exploded. “Why’s the bastard still around if all he needs from Shell is fucking bits and pieces of her father, the goddamn ass-wipe they already have in custody?”

  Brand shrugged and even Bishop lifted his hands out, palms upward to signal his lack of knowledge. “Who fucking knows with those fucking government bastards?”

  Dare chuckled and the sound was soon echoed by every man in the room, easing the mood.

  “Like I said, I want you and Brand in Billings before the week is out,” Trey reminded. “Maybe moving to Billings will take your girl off his radar.”

  “She ain’t my girl,” Silo quickly rejoined.

  “Of course not, bro’.”

  “Sure, she isn’t.”

  “Why anyone would think so, dude?”

  Silo held up both fists, fingers towards his chest and used one hand to enact a wind up, allowing the middle finger of the still hand to inch its way skyward.

  That was all the room needed to erupt in laughter and to call an end to their meeting that Trey only partially signaled with the soft thud of his gavel.

  *.*.*.*.*

  I was sitting on the couch, knee deep in one of the novels Silo had recommended when a soft knock at the door startled me up and into the present. Geez, true crime was freaking scary!

  “Shelly? Open up, girl,” I heard Carly call and I stuck a playing card, the queen of diamonds, into the book to mark my place before getting up and releasing the locks of the heavy front door. Locks as in plural. Silo had installed two more locks on it to prevent any and all unwanted intrusions. The one at the handle was original, but he’d added a deadbolt and then some kind of sliding variety at the top.

  Very secure.

  “Hey Carly,” I greeted, stepping back to allow the other woman access. She was quickly followed by a shorter girl with a mop of black, shining curls.

  “Namaste, bitch,” Carly greeted as she engulfed me in a hug. I guess spending two hours sorting out my hair amidst my yelps and groans entitled her to be so familiar. But then I felt safe with the taller girl giving me her affection, so I went with it.

  “Hey, Shelly,” came another voice, one I didn’t recognize and I pulled back to see exactly who Carly had brought with her.

  Most of the Honeys were pretty easy to recognize with their out-to-there kind of hair, skimpy revealing clothes and sky-high heels but the one who entered Silo’s house, softly closing the screen door behind her had none of that. No, she was more of a tom-boy in button-fly jeans, a Hellions Construction t-shirt and girly boots. Not to mention, no makeup.

  “I’m Dallas. Trey’s fiancée,” she said, holding out a hand.

  Taking it, I touched my palm to hers, giving it the social standard in the one-pump arena. “Shelly Palmer.”

  And at the smile that met her nickel colored eyes, I relaxed. Trey, if I remembered correctly, was the president of both the motorcycle club and the construction company. Which had Dallas at the top of the Honey hive.

  “Hi, Dallas,” I said, stepping back on my good leg and holding out an arm. “Come in, won’t you?”

  “Look at you, being all formal and shit,” Carly said with a grin as she brushed by me. “Came to see how you were doing, honey.”

  “And to drop off the boxes,” Dallas added over her shoulder as she made her way to the sofa.

  “Boxes?” I echoed, closing the door and shooting the locks.

  “For your move to Billings,” Carly stated, making her way to the kitchen. “Where does Silo keep his booze?”

  “Top shelf of the pantry,” I murmured distractedly, my mind swirling. Silo had never said anything about moving. Not a damn peep. And especially not to Billings which was on the other side of the state. I glanced towards the kitchen and only saw a leg as Carly stretched to search through the bottles. “We’re moving to Billings?”

  “Jay-sus! He didn’t tell you?” Dallas shook her head hard enough to send her curls into bounce-mode. “Swear to god, these men make us do all their damn dirty work!”

  “You’re singing to the choir, girlfriend,” Carly called back. “Tequila! Now we’re talking.”

  My eyes slid between the two women as I held my stance at the door, only partially aware of the slamming of cabinet doors coming from the kitchen.

  “Where the fuck does Silo keep his shot glasses?” Carly asked on an exasperated sigh.

  As if I would know!

  Ask me about plates or forks and I could’ve told you. Veggies of the canned variety, I was your girl. But shot glasses, uh-uh. I’d never seen them in the time I’d been in his house.

  “Oh well, two fingers it is then. Neat. We’ll work it Honey-style,” I heard Carly intone as glasses clinked against the old, worn tile that was mounted on the countertops.

  “Only one finger for me, Carls. I’m driving, remember?” Dallas yelled from her perch on the sofa.

  “Gotcha covered, Lally,” Carly said with a satisfied smile as she carried three juice glasses into the living room and placed them front and center on the coffee table. “Whatcha doin’ standing all the way over there, Shelly? C’mon, I found the booze and we’ve got shit to do. Get a move on, honey.”

  I completed the couple of steps until I was standing at one end of the long table and watched as each of them snagged a glass and lifted it high. I grabbed the one closest to me and brought it to chest level.

  “To ovaries,” Carly announced.

  “To those of us who keep our dude’s shit together,” Dallas said with a firm head nod and a clink of her glass to Carly’s.

  “Erm. Bottom’s up?” I added with a smirk, uncertain as to exactly what we were toasting and finding their sentiments more interesting than the firestorm that was building in my head.

  Why hadn’t Silo told me about the move?

  “Fucking A,” Carly agreed, upending her drink in one fell swoop. Bringing my glass to my mouth and catching a whiff of the potent liquor, my eyes went to Dallas and watched as the smaller woman did the same.

  I didn’t want to be considered the lightweight in the moment and held my breath as I upended my glass, but holy moly! The pure alcohol as it went down my throat felt hot as I gasped at its sharp taste that seemed to linger on the back of my tongue. “What was that?” I wheezed and pounded on my chest to try and take in more air. Actually, the burn of the liquor seemed to match the burn of the anger that was building inside at Silo’s lack of disclosure about our impeding move.

  “Tequila, honey. Why? Haven’t you ever done tequila shots before?” Carly asked, licking her lips as if to capture any remains of the beverage.

  I shook my head and bent to place my glass on the tabletop. No, I hadn’t since ‘shots’ had not been something a person in my social circle was ever caught doing, although the joke of it was that the senior set would do it on the sly.

  “Another?” The leggy redhead straightened and grabbed our glasses aiming back towards the kitchen.

  “None for me, girl,” Dallas announced, twining her legs into a lotus position.

  “All the more for Shelly and me!” Carly trumpeted from deep within the bowels of the kitchen. Since I hadn’t heard anymore slamming of cabinet doors, I assumed she’d kept the bottle of tequila out on the counter.

  “What do you say, honey. One more?” the tall girl asked as she sashayed back to the coffee table. At the view of the glass she held out to me, my knees buckled and I found myself sitting in the leather recliner that Silo had placed perpendicular to the sofa. “Namaste,” she murmured before again upending her glass.

  I had no idea what that word meant, the one she’d offered as her toast although I’d nodded as if in agreement, going so far as to raise the glass to my nose but the aroma, the very smell in the tumbler made my stomach roil. But, again closing off my breath, I sucked the drink down, coughing only a little as its heat made its way down my throat and into my stomach.

  A warmth seemed to spread from my belly outward as the booze took effect. And di
d exactly like it was supposed to in taking the edge off my anger and frustration.

  Would I ever be in control of my own life again? Be able to make my own decisions?

  “Fuck, yeah!” Carly yelled, slamming her glass onto the top of the table.

  “Girl, please,” Dallas said softly, wiggling into the cushions of the sofa. “It’s nothing but pure booze. You act like Huff is giving it to you straight up and savory.”

  Carly smiled some kind of Cheshire cat grin before replying. “It made my nipples hard. Doesn’t that count?”

  Seriously? Did women talk to other women like that? At least their savory talk took my mind away from my own issues.

  I caught Dallas’s eyes before she immediately zeroed in on Carly. “This isn’t the clubhouse, Carls and we have work to do, okay?” And I saw Carly’s shoulders tense.

  “Ah…what does no-mast-tay mean?” I offered in an effort to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended at Dallas’s chiding. And because I really wanted to know.

  I saw Carly swallow before she spoke at a level softer than she’d used before. “It means the soul in me recognizes the spirit inside you.” She didn’t raise her eyes as she said it.

  “And my soul says we’ve got a shitload of boxes to bring in, along with a tower of newspapers for Si’s girl to get started on packing. Let’s get to it, ladies,” Dallas said, unwinding her legs and standing up.

  “When are we moving?” My head seemed fuzzy and my mouth struggled with the words. But I felt it was important to glean as much info as I could since Silo hadn’t shared.

  The bastard.

  “According to Trey, as soon as fucking possible. Which means shit to those of us that know how to use a clock. But I’m guessing day after tomorrow,” Dallas said as she released two of the locks. She tried but she just couldn’t quite reach the one at the top of the door. I quickly moved to help, somehow knowing from the way Carly had backed herself down that Dallas was in charge and was a girl you probably wanted to stay on the right side of.

  I swung my eyes around the living room and then allowed them to take in the dining room before mentally reviewing the parts of the kitchen I’d already discovered.

  It was going to be quite the packing job.

  And had Dallas said I was going to be the one doing it? Even buzzed on Tequila, I could feel how pissed off I was at the assumption that it was to be my job. Even though he hadn’t told me himself.

  He could’ve at least asked for goodness sakes!

  Not that Silo had a lot of stuff, but he kind of did. Things that obviously meant something to either him or his grandpa. Things that needed to be not only wrapped but double wrapped. Protected. And unbroken when we made it to our final digs in Billings.

  “Do we know where we’ll be staying?” I asked as I followed the two women out the door after turning on the outside light. Might as well get it all out in the open at one time.

  “Not quite yet,” Dallas called as she dropped the tailgate on the big truck’s bed. “Silo found a realtor who said she’d get the input of everyone in order to find you guys something that would suit.”

  “Suit?” Carly repeated with a snort. “For Si’s princess here, does anything in Montana really suit?”

  I felt my shoulders stiffen as my stomach clenched at the other woman’s words. She’d helped me out, made me feel like a real person again with her assistance in getting my hair untangled, in providing me with a wardrobe and makeup. Why was she riding me now?

  Or was that the reason the big, bald biker hadn’t mentioned the upcoming move? Because he thought he’d have a fight on his hands?

  “Don’t pay any attention to her, Shelly. When Carly’s been drinking, all sense of decency is gone,” Dallas said, her eyes steady on mine. “She’s still the best friend a girl can have. She just kind of loses it when she imbibes.”

  I knew what Dallas was doing, how she was trying to help but it didn’t. Not really. The Carly I’d seen before was funny, kind and open. It was hard to watch and hear her under the influence, where she wasn’t any of those things.

  And her words hurt, making me curious if that’s how all the Hellions and Honey thought of me. I turned my head away wondering why their opinion, why even Silo’s opinion of me even mattered. It wasn’t like we were a couple, were in a partnership of any kind in spite of whatever physical thing we had between us.

  But somehow, the thought of Silo viewing me as spoiled, of only being able to live in luxury, unable or unwilling to participate in the life he’d provided, bothered me. A lot.

  Moving to stand next to the smaller, dark haired girl, I took possession of a stack of flat boxes she was sliding off the bed of the truck. As she handed them to me, she spoke almost in a whisper. “I know this is weird and an especially strange way to get involved with the club. But, as an outsider myself, please know I have your best interests at heart, Shelly.”

  My eyes held hers and somehow I got a sense that she, of every one of the Honeys I’d met, spoke the truth. That at the bedrock of her, there was a core of caring, of having my back without any of the pretense of club or because I was only with Silo. It was almost like she’d gone through her own fire, her own version of ‘this is me and is just the way I am’ with the other members. And was more than willing to lend a hand to help me get there as well.

  And because she so clearly was not a typical Honey and hadn’t made any effort to become one, I held her words close, treasuring them.

  “Thanks, Dallas,” I murmured, ducking my head almost involuntarily in a gesture of respect. An emotion I didn’t normally have for many people, much less another woman.

  “You’re more than welcome, Shelly. You’ve got that stack? Don’t take on too much. We’ve still gotta get you well,” she said with a smile that lit up her eyes.

  At first glance, Dallas wasn’t nothing much. Not when compared with the other Honeys. But once she was rolling, let loose and doing her thing, the woman was a powerhouse at giving a girl the support needed to just get on with it.

  And that’s what I was determined to do.

  Just get the freak on with whatever life handed me while being myself.

  Whoever that woman was.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Agent Moore dropped the binoculars and sighed, unknowingly stepping around in a circle after watching the play between his precious Michelle and the little bit of woman, who dressed like a man, at the end of the other woman’s truck.

  His woman was made to haul and lift as if she was somebody’s mule!

  It was a travesty of the worst sort and one that he would soon see was corrected.

  Michelle Palmer was a lady, not the kind of woman that should be soiling her hands with manual labor which only proved she had chosen wrong in not taking him up on his offer of protection. Under his command, she’d never dirty her hands by lifting and hefting. That was for underlings, for those not meant to lead. And Michelle, his future wife, was a leader. A woman who could command and direct those who had no choice but to follow.

  He twisted back, bringing the heavy night-vision binoculars back up to eyes as he watched her full hips sway while she moved beneath the weight of the weight she carried.

  She was all woman.

  Steadily built and heartily grown, as evidenced by her deep breast and sturdy, curved ass.

  He took in a deep breath at the sight of her finagling herself into the house Kettering had called his ‘home’ which was, in David’s opinion nothing more than a shack. How could the man in good conscious keep such a beauty in such depths of squalor and depravity?

  She was worth so much more.

  So very much more.

  “Soon, beautiful. I’ll take you to a better place where I can teach you. And you? Oh you’ll teach me even more,” he whispered as he watched, never even realizing he had begun stroking the hardness encased in his slacks.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was right about the packing being a laborious process. But at the time
, I’d thought I’d be able to count on Silo’s help in getting it done. Although why I didn’t think of it the other way around is a mystery. After all, it was his stuff, his home I was packing. Not vice versa.

  But he was busy. Busy as in trying to find us a new place to live long-distance, busy wrapping up the work on his desk and along with Brand, was busy trying to put together both a new business and a new club.

  Sighing, I glanced at the boxes already filled and stacked underneath the dining room windows. In my mind, the kitchen was going to take the most time to empty so I’d decided to tackle it first. But it was slow going with my ankle still unable to hold my weight for any length of time. I’d discovered that if I emptied a cabinet onto the dining room table, I could sit down and wrap each piece in newspaper before adding it to a box I’d placed on the floor, which seemed to work well until late afternoon. It was then that my ankle would began to complain and I’d lose a lot of my steam.

  Not that I didn’t have help. For each of the two days I’d been packing, Carly would come by after her shift as a guard at the University was finished. Just having her there seemed to make the work go faster and it was great to have someone to talk with and give me news of what was going on elsewhere.

  “Dallas has been working half-days and going over to help Reese get her and Brand’s shit packed up.” Carly brought another stack of bowls from the upper cabinets I couldn’t reach and set them on the table. “Which is a great idea because then they can talk over Reese’s responsibilities as the reigning Honey in Billings.”

  The tall auburn-haired woman must’ve caught the confusion in my face because she continued on even as she stepped back into to the kitchen. “Reese has only been a part of the Honeys for a little less than a couple of years and needs to know how to oversee the Honey activities as well as how the women under her are supposed to behave.”

  “There are rules for Honeys? I thought you folks were a law unto yourselves,” I said over the crinkle of the newspaper I was wrapping yet another serving platter in. From the design on the stoneware, I was thinking all the dishes had been Silo’s Grandma Kettering’s with the flowers and birds that unabashedly adorned them.