A Civilian for Silo

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  I caught Carly’s sigh as she opened another cabinet and eyed its contents. “For a single biker, Baldy sure seems to have a lot of goddamn dishes, don’t cha think?” She reached for the next stack to bring it over to where I was seated. “Yeah, there are rules. A lot more fucking rules than the brothers have.”

  I know that she’d complained about the sheer volume of what was in the cabinets, but I noticed she was taking as much care as I was to ensure nothing got damaged or broken.

  “Are a lot of the Honeys moving to Billings, too?”

  “Nah. Last I heard, only Liv and Tight were saying they’d be in on the relocation.” Her voice sounded muffled as she reached further inside one of the deep cupboards. “That don’t matter, though. Once the local girls start getting invited to the Hellions bar-b-ques and get a load of all the hot bikers, they’ll be flocking…no, make that begging to join the Hellion Honeys.”

  My hands stilled on the paper and I only idly noted the ink that covered my fingers. “Bar-b-que as in party?”

  Carly’s face held a wide, knowing smile as she carried another stack to the tabletop. “Hell yeah! Lots of grown up fun that includes great eats, free booze with lots and lots of opportunity for a girl to have a biker ride her instead of his machine.”

  I mulled Carly’s earthy and descriptive words over. I guess it made sense that a motorcycle club’s parties wouldn’t be anything like the soirees I’d attended—those boring, stuffy affairs that were like some party that had started in the 60’s and were on repeat with the same people, same conversations and same food. Although from the pictures I’d seen, the style of clothes had greatly improved over time.

  “Jay-sus,” Carly breathed after opening a drawer. “Would you look at this shit?” She held up a rectangle of terrycloth that was stained and almost thread-bare in one hand as she dangled what appeared to be an oven-mitt in the other that was covered in burn holes and dried food.

  “Just trash them.” I shuddered to think of the germs either one of them contained. “We’ll buy more in Billings.”

  “Seriously?” Carly looked back down at the contents of the drawer with a frown. “I mean, Silo won’t have a shit hemorrhage at having to pay for new?”

  I just looked at her before standing to catch a glimpse at what she was pawing through. From my vantage point, the drawer was stuffed full of…well, rags. There wasn’t any other word for the mangy dishtowels and potholders it contained. “I’m not using those to work with.”

  “I wouldn’t either, honey. But Silo is kinda tight with his money. Not as much as Bishop but still squeezes a penny until it bleeds.”

  I couldn’t help my sharp bark of laughter, remembering our grocery store experience and how he had insisted on buying cheap which had caused the argument that we’d had. But on the heels of that thought came another. Of how Silo had not even quibbled about forking out the money to pay for my new wardrobe and ‘girlie shit’.

  Things I’d been grateful to receive and, when combined with the hospital bill and air-ambulance, had probably cost, as Reese called it, ‘a whack’.

  But I’d ensure he’d get every damn dime back just as soon as I was able to get to my money and assets.

  Whenever that might be. Or as Silo had proclaimed, “when this fucking shit is all motherfucking sorted.”

  My new friend and packing companion dragged the trash bin over and began sorting through the rag drawer as I went back to the table to continue wrapping and packing the next box on the floor.

  “Speaking of bar-b-ques,” Carly said, going back to her previous subject. “You’re going to the one tomorrow night, right? The going away party?”

  I concentrated on covering an especially ornamental serving platter with paper, deciding it needed another layer in order to keep it from being chipped. “Probably not.”

  “Why? It’s almost guaran-damn-teed to be the blow-out of the year! Everybody’s gonna be there!”

  “That’s the point, Carly. I don’t want Lulu to know I’m here.”

  “Oh yeah. I forgot.” Her face turned towards me as she continued on her search and rescue mission of viable kitchen linens. “Still and all, you’re gonna miss a fucking great party, honey.”

  “So tell me how a Hellion party works,” I offered, curious as to what actually went on at a ‘blow out’.

  “Lots food and lots of alcohol,” she started and I glanced up to see her face was pointed at the next drawer. “More? You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

  I giggled again and realized I probably had the better end of the packing deal.

  She gave me a stern look before going back to it. “And as the brothers start to feel their booze, there’ll be dancing. Or their version of it, which isn’t much more than a vertical dry-hump.” She sighed and I shot my eyes to her only to see the smallest smile begin to lift her mouth. “I think the brothers consider it sufficient enough foreplay before hooking up with someone.”

  “Hooking up?”

  “Yeah, you know, grabbing a key to one of the rooms at the back of the clubhouse in order to have some privacy with whoever they’ve chosen to get down and naked with,” she explained, throwing another handful of rags in the trash can. “We’ve only got six rooms but over sixty members in the Missoula chapter of Hellions so if a biker doesn’t grab a key early, he might be shit out of luck.”

  I was trying to keep a nonchalant face as she explained but it was hard. Dry-humping as dancing? Casual connections that were consummated in rooms on Hellion property?

  “That doesn’t stop them, though. If a brother really has an ache, he absolutely won’t give a shit who sees or watches as he bends a girl over one of the clubhouse or picnic tables in order to fuck her silly. Man, I cannot tell you some of the nasty shit I’ve seen in the latter hours of a Hellion party!” Carly was shaking her head, seemingly at a memory.

  I, though, was shocked. Sure, I knew people who’d held brief trysts during more than one party but they were discreet about it. I’d never heard of a couple getting it on in front of others!

  “Up to and including when another person joins in on the frolicking duo’s fun.” She continued on a salacious giggle.

  “Say again?” I didn’t mean to stutter, but was she talking about…about a…a threesome?

  “You know, when another person decides they like what’s happening so much, they want to share in what’s doing. Either another Honey or a brother can get in on the action if everybody’s in agreement.” Carly shrugged as if what she’d just said was no big deal. “Share and share alike, I always say.”

  “But aren’t some of those couples married? I mean, you said everybody had to agree, but you’re saying even the married couples will…allow…” My voice wound down and I hoped she understood what I meant.

  It was Carly’s turn to laugh, her humor probably the result of my shocked tone but I couldn’t help it. “Not all of them but yeah, quite a few enjoy the occasional third during playtime.” She frowned and did a head tilt. “Not all, though. Recently, there’s been more than a couple of couples that don’t believe in sharing.”

  “Who?” I couldn’t believe Lulu and Mel would ever…would even consider…

  “Dallas and Trey for one. I think he wouldn’t mind adding another girl but there is no way in hell he’d ever let another brother have a piece of his fiancée. Same with Dare and Ryley or Brand and Reese, although before he got with Reese, Brand was frequently the third with more than a few couples.” She turned her head to look at me. “Your sister and her man don’t stick around the parties long enough for anyone to approach or if they did, that studley-recruit would more than likely clobber the other man at the suggestion.”

  I released the breath I’d been holding. I know my sister’s sex life was none of my business, but I was relieved to know she and Mel weren’t a part of the threesome conclave. “There aren’t as many Honeys as there are brothers,” I started but Carly cut me off.

  “Oh, the single Honeys will do double or even
triple duty if need be,” she cut-in, throwing up a hand as if that answer didn’t hold me spellbound and deeply blinking. “Sometimes, the guys will bring in a civvy from the outside or one of the girls will bring a friend. Gotta keep our guys happy!”

  “Civvy?”

  “You know. A person that isn’t a part of the club. A civilian,” she explained, crouching down to the bottom drawer with only the top of her head visible over the cabinet. “Like you. You’re a civilian.”

  My mind was racing at all this new knowledge. Wait, though. “What about diseases? I mean, the way you make it sound, people are playing musical partners more than a little bit.”

  “Condoms. Each of the rooms have a small bowl filled with condoms. There’s a much larger bowl behind the bar of the clubhouse and some in each of the bathrooms. It’s a well-known rule amongst the Honeys—no glove, no love,” Carly intoned from her place behind the countertop.

  I took a moment to process this new information, giving me a much better idea of what went on within the club than I’d actually wanted to know. “This is kind of personal but what about you and your man?”

  “Huff? Yeah,” she replied sounded breathless as she stood up with a drawer in her hands. She placed it on the counter with a thud and glanced at me. “We add a third now and again. Sometimes it’s just for fun. Other times it’s because one of us can’t participate.”

  My eyebrows shot straight up and she grinned at my response. “What? Does that idea shock you?”

  I nodded trying to latch on to one of the thoughts zipping through my head. “Don’t you get jealous?” I couldn’t imagine watching another girl have sex with Silo in front of me!

  “Nah. Let me explain.” She held up a finger, her faced scrunched in concentration. “Last year, I had to have a small operation on my hoo-ha. My Ob-Gyn said no sex for three weeks, but I knew my Huff wouldn’t be able to go that long without fucking. And there are only so many blow-jobs or hand-jobs a girl can do before it gets boring to both parties. So every three or four days, we’d bring a Honey in to take care of his needs. With me in the room, watching or participating as much as I was able, he got his and I kept my man satisfied without him sneaking off to get pussy I didn’t know or approve of. Understand?”

  Yeah, I did although the morality of it was jarring. I supposed that if you were a part of it, then your guy wasn’t actually cheating, but the thought still made me slightly ill. Suddenly, I was really happy I wasn’t going to the Hellion bar-b-que. As in, really, seriously glad.

  Carly eyed the small stack of cloths she’d deemed ‘worthy of saving’ even as she sorted through the last drawer. “So what about you, Shelly? You and Silo hitting it yet?” Her voice was quiet, carefully modulated in a way I’d never heard it before.

  Even so, I felt the heat begin to spread within me at her question. “What…” I had to clear my throat in order to force the rest of the words out. “What do you mean?”

  She raised her eyes but didn’t point her face to mine as she continued sorting the last of the remaining drawer. “Hey, honey. I showed you mine. It’s only fair you show me yours.”

  She was right. She had shared something that was more than I’d expected. Had given me information that was more than personal. But to tell her of me and Silo? “Yeah,” I breathed, feeling the heat steal upwards from my chest, over my chin and up into my cheeks. “Yeah, I’ve been with Silo.”

  From underneath my lashes, I viewed her, head tilted but her face was holding a soft knowing smile. “And?”

  I sighed. It was a good question, a valid question and one that I’d been staving off since the night of me and Silo on the sofa had happened. “We did it. But I don’t know that it meant anything.”

  “Oh, it meant something all right,” she corrected with a firm head nod. “Silo is…different. Different from the brothers that need a different set of legs spreading for them each night.” The look on her face, a far-away gaze that had nothing to do with her surroundings held my interest. “If I were to call it, to give it a name…Silo wants a partner. Wants to be with just one but he just hasn’t found that girl yet.”

  Oh, geez.

  “Think you can be it, Shelly?”

  Did I? Seriously?

  It hadn’t been so long ago that I could’ve answered that quickly and with a resounding no. Silo just hadn’t been in my league in spite of the outrageously good sex he provided. And I knew he hated the rich-bitch lifestyle I used to consider my norm, a phrase Silo was using less and less. But after living with him, finding him warm and caring, and so very careful with my feelings, had me viewing both him and us differently.

  But to be Silo’s partner?

  “I don’t know if…” I counted myself lucky that a knock on the heavy front door interrupted whatever I’d been about to say. Carly turned wide eyes to me.

  “You expecting someone?” she whispered and I shook my head as I watched her reach down to pull a small handgun out of her boot before dropping the leg of her jeans back down. She quickly moved to the door and unlatched all the locks with one hand while keeping the other that was holding the gun tucked behind her thigh. The door creaked as she opened it only enough for her face to show. “Who’re you and what do you want?” she growled menacingly.

  “I’m here to see Miss Palmer,” I heard Federal Agent Moore respond. “But the real question is: who might you be?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Silo drove his Harley into the driveway, gunning it as he saw the fucking federal agent on his porch. What the fuck was the guy’s problem? He slung his leg over his machine and quickly stormed the wooden stairs.

  “What the fuck, shithead?” he boomed and watched the bureaucrat flinch and take a step back. Glancing at where Carly was holding the door open, Silo turned back to the agent. “Unless you have a motherfucking warrant or a goddamn good reason to be here, I suggest you fucking get the fuck off my property.”

  The stupid shit seemed to make a decision and from the jut of the man’s chin, Silo knew it was gonna be the wrong fucking one. “I’m here to speak with Miss Palmer.”

  “Yeah?” Silo eyed the federal fucker, noting the man’s suit, pristine white shirt and stupid tie. The man looked like he was going to fucking talk to the Pope or something. “Don’t think she wants to talk to you.” Silo turned back to the opened door to see both Shelly and Carly filling it. “You want to talk to this shit, Shell?”

  “N-no,” she stammered and Silo saw her eyes drift to the agent. She lifted her chin and said, “I believe I’ve already given Agent Moore all the information I know.”

  Silo’s hands went to his hips which had the bag of deli sandwiches he’d tucked underneath his black leather jacket falling with a thud on the porch floor. But he ignored it as he glared at the smaller man. “Is there something she needs to fucking know? Or are you just trying to get more intel on her daddy?”

  “I…uhm,” Agent Moore raised a hand to his forehead as if to brush at his hair, but Silo saw the man was actually wiping at the perspiration that beaded there. Which Silo took as a good sign of how the man knew he was in the wrong about trying to contact Shelly. “I wanted to see if Miss Palmer had remembered why she’d been found wandering in Oso Springs canyon.”

  Silo stopped all movement and his brain repeated the agent’s words, sending ice into his gut.

  “How did you know where I’d been found, Agent Moore? Or that I had even been missing, for that matter.” Shelly’s voice sound small, confused. She glanced at Silo and he shrugged to show he hadn’t told a fucking soul anything about how she’d been found.

  The agent’s eyes darted to her and then back to Silo. “I saw the cuts and bruises on your face and arms when we last met. Since you left your condo after returning from your fundraising gala and never came back, I found and read the County Sheriff’s report on how and when you were found.” He stopped speaking and looked to Shelly. “Was I wrong?”

  “If it was her,” Silo started before pausing, wanting to
get his words just right. “What do you think happened?”

  The surprise on the agent’s face would’ve been a fucking riot if the discussion had been about anyone else. But since it was about Shelly and whatever the fuck she’d been through, there was no humor to be found. And that the agent knew more than Silo, pissed the big biker off more than anything else.

  The thinner man swallowed before blurting, “I’m not sure. But I’ve…uncovered that there has been some interest shown in the Palmer sisters by the New Mexican branch of the Milosevic family.”

  “Ain’t that the mob your dad was laundering money for?” Silo was half-turned towards Shelly and he saw her beautiful face drain of color before she nodded. Silo nodded as well and turned back to Agent Moore. “How does that work then? What happens to the money you find in the different fucking accounts?”

  The agent’s eyebrows remained raised at Silo’s question. “All the investment money is held until formal charges are made and our investigation determines where the investment originated.” There was a note in the other man’s voice that Silo didn’t like but he couldn’t figure out exactly why.

  Carly decided to join the conversation. “Has all the money been accounted for?”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” The federal agent answered on a stutter, while adjusting his cuffs. A sissy, guilty move if Silo had ever seen one.

  “It was a pretty fucking easy one, dickhead.” Silo’s patience had started to stretch thin and the way the man seemed to want to fucking play word games made it even worse. “Have you and your team accounted for all the money in the investment accounts?”

  He heard Shelly’s gasp and turned to see her bring a hand up to her mouth before she came to stand beside Silo. “You haven’t found it all, have you? That’s why you made me meet with you again and again, showing me report after report, account after account.” She stopped and glared at the agent. “And you think I might know where it is. Is that it? You need me to tell you where to look to find the missing money?” Her voice had risen at the end until she was shouting just as loud as Silo had been. “Well, I don’t damn well know a damn thing about my father’s accounts! I’ve told you that over and over!”