A Civilian for Silo

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “Think those sandwiches are still good?” His voice sounded unusually cheery and I smiled into the pillow as I realized that I had pleased him as much if not more than he had me.

  That is, if I considered that he’d taken me to bed first and then asked about food.

  Chapter Twenty One

  David Moore awoke with a start, sweaty and twisted in the rough sheets of his cheap room, although he was hard pressed to determine what had caused it. He pried open his sticky eyes and waited for them to focus, blinking in order to gain some clarity.

  Was he sick? Because his mouth seemed dry yet coated in some kind of funky, sticky substance and his temples throbbed.

  Turning his head on the scratchy pillow and viewing the bottle on the nightstand next to his sagging mattress, he noted only a couple of swallows remained in the fifth of cheap bourbon. He quickly closed his eyes again, unwilling and unable to face the evidence of the prior night’s debauchery.

  It had been years, years since he’d had too much to drink, especially of the kind that he’d obviously wallowed in.

  But why? Why had he taken the plunge, begun that slow slide that he knew was worthless in keeping his demons at bay?

  Propping himself on an elbow, he waited for the room to right itself before coming up to a full sitting position. A move that made his stomach roil and he swallowed as much as he was able through the dryness of his throat. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes again.

  Yes, he was sick but not with anything that his own determination and strength of will couldn’t overcome.

  Flickers of memory came to him, but he wasn’t ready to face them. Instead, he tried standing which was more than difficult because his legs were shaking almost too hard to support the rest of his weight. In fact, his whole body was shivering as if plugged into an electrical socket.

  He didn’t remember that particular symptom from his other journeys into an Old Crow bottle, something that had been a frequent occurrence in his late teens and early twenties. But he’d put that behind him, recognizing he’d never reach his goals, any of them, by almost drowning in the amber alcohol.

  No, he’d given that life up. Just as he’d walked away from the squalor of his youth, his family and had recreated himself into a man that was the complete opposite of the boy he had been. Into a man who was cultivated, cultured and more than capable.

  Taking a shaky step forward by hanging onto the nightstand and then the desk, he moved towards the bathroom. It took a while because of the tiny, uncertain steps his feet wanted to make, of how his stomach protested each move and his heartbeat settled in between his temples but eventually he stood before the chipped sink.

  And peered at the stranger in the mirror. A man with wild hair and wilder, bloodshot eyes.

  ‘Michelle wouldn’t even recognize me now’, he thought and with it came the memory of her frown, her horrible words and, worse still, the way she’d slammed the door in his face. Leaning the top of his legs against the scarred vanity, he bent over the sink and turned the water on. The cold wetness felt so good and seemed to ease the pain.

  And it wasn’t until his chest hitched, he realized that some of that water, that moisture wasn’t only coming from his cupped palms.

  But was leaking from his eyes as well.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Silo removed both his and then my helmet, before leaning down towards me. “Okay, here’s the fucking doings. You go make nice-nice with your girls to create great eats and I go fall asleep at Hellion church. Then we fucking re-hook when Reese brings you and the food to the compound. Got it?”

  We were standing in the middle of Reese and Brand’s driveway that was dotted with different cars parked willy-nilly in the gravel. I was there to participate in my first ever Honey breakfast that Reese said was a tradition that had started in Missoula and that she intended to keep in Billings.

  “Got it, big guy!” I couldn’t help smiling at the seriousness on his face. To me, this was going to be a gas because being with Reese and the other girls was always fun since I’d found my place among them.

  But from the way Silo had described the Sunday morning Hellion meetings, the one the brothers called ‘church’, I understood his lack of enthusiasm. For him, it would be a meeting filled with information, the 4-1-1 as he named it, and plans for the future. A time to get the other members involved in the inner workings and take votes or make objections to whatever was brewing within their club.

  And today was the first time they were holding one in Billings that had been made mandatory for all the members who had pledged with the new chapter.

  I knew I was getting the better end of the deal.

  He bent his head down further and captured my mouth in a thorough kiss. “Loved having you on the back of my bike, Shell.”

  I felt my tummy do a tumble as I replied. “And I loved being there, Si’.”

  He pulled back and gazed at me, his eyes a soft blue-gray.

  “What?” I didn’t understand the look, though I more than wanted to.

  “Just taking in the scenery,” he murmured, tucking one of my curls behind my ear. “Fucking digging the view is all.”

  My knees softened and my smile dropped away at his words, his beautiful words that seem to come straight from his heart. “Oh Si’,” I breathed, tilting my face back up to his. After a tender touch of his mouth, he patted my bottom before going back to his bike.

  “Be good, princess!”

  “Be safe, Silo!” and I watched as he started the big machine up before flicking a couple of fingers my way in acknowledgment. But my heart was full, so freaking full as I maneuvered Reese’s steps that were lined with pots of fall flowers.

  “Shelly!” Reese cried opening the door and waving me in. “You’re late.”

  I glanced over her shoulder and saw the bevy of beauties that now comprised the latest chapter of Hellion Honeys milling around her huge oak table and lengthy breakfast bar. “Silo had something he had to take care of before we left.”

  “You could’ve ridden with Lu,” she countered, eying me carefully. My girl was sharp and I didn’t want her to guess what Silo’s something was about. “Did that something include you, a mattress and a horizontal position?”

  Crap, busted again!

  “Nope, Miss Smarty-pants,” I crowed, happy to find she had it wrong. Or at least a part of it, anyway. “Me, a shower and vertical.”

  Her laughter gave evidence to her mumbling, “lucky girl,” that was said too low for anyone but me to hear.

  I leaned into Reese’s shoulder before handing her my messenger bag of ingredients and stepping into the crowd of women. We were up to fifteen Honeys by then, including our original five. Only four had relocated with their men, a fact that Silo had confided was a problem since single brothers, while well in their cups, would sometimes fight for the right to take a single, unpaired Honey to bed.

  So that morning had the newest of our members, six brand-spanking-new to the wonderful world of bikers, into the group. And as I let my eyes roam and settle on each of them, I had to admire our choices.

  Linda, of the waist-length, gorgeous blonde hair, had received a unanimous vote from all of us and she seemed to have bonded with the shy Liv. Benz, another black-haired beauty and Gia who was lethal with her long-legs and shapely curves were both welcomed into our group without any haggling.

  But it had taken a lot of discussion to include both Bea and Nickel. Bea, because she was a bit older than the rest of us. Lulu and Liv had thought she was too old for the group and had said she might try to wrest the Reese’s authority away, something Brand’s wife had laughed at. The hesitation over Nickel had been because she was more than a little hard around the edges, even though I, for one, appreciated her super-sarcastic sense of humor. While Liv and Lulu appreciated the sweet side of other girls, both I and Tight liked our co-Honeys a little spicier.

  But as Reese had tried to tell us again and again, the choices had to not only be for the good of our
group but for the brothers as well. Unattached girls were a necessity at a motorcycle club and had to be available for the single men to enjoy at will. They must appeal to various men in both personality and body as well as be sexually adventurous. A fact that I struggled with during the interviews, but that Reese had handled with aplomb through the use of biker stories that had initially had me blushing to the roots of my hair. But it didn’t take long for me to gauge the effectiveness of using tales of former Hellion bar-b-ques or club nights to see which girls would fit and which were not a good choice.

  “Hey, girls!” I called, stepping into the group and really wishing I knew a phrase as catchy as Carly’s ‘Namaste, bitches’.

  I received various greetings back, all offered with smiles, and made my way to where Lulu stood. “You got stuck with the sausages, huh?”

  Using a hand to swipe at the sweat underneath her bangs, Lulu only nodded. “I think it’s only fair since the new Honeys will be presented to the club today and Mel says he loves the smell of sausage.” She gave me a wan grin before turning back to the electric griddle that was covered in browning links.

  I glanced around and saw almost everyone was busy but me. “What can I do?”

  “Last girl to arrive mans the fucking sink, honey,” Tight advised with a slow smile and a quick wink. “A great incentive to get here on time, don’t cha think?”

  I eyed the various pots, pans and bowls that were overflowing onto Reese’s counters and sighed. There was no help for it and I pushed up the sleeves of my maroon Henley in order to get to work. But I knew that the following Sunday would either find Silo and I up earlier or forgoing our morning pleasures in order to get me out of Honey KP duty.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Silo had been surprised to find that his chair was right next to where Brand stood at the farthest table back, facing the whole of the clubhouse room. In his time with the Hellions, that spot had been reserved for Bishop, Trey’s lieutenant and right hand man.

  And in the new Billings club, was Silo’s designated place.

  He felt extremely self-conscious as he stepped around and over the feet of the other men in order to get to his seat and it was only Brand’s steady gaze following his trajectory that gave him the props to do so without bumbling or tripping in his journey. After dropping his ass into the hard chair that faced the room, Brand rapped the gavel against the table and all talk as well as movement stopped when the big man called the meeting to order.

  “First, I want to thank you, brothers,” the President, in his very formal English, began. Silo knew he was proud of his Croatian heritage, but was never comfortable with the idioms of English which was reflected in the big man’s speech. “For believing in both me and your club as you chose to relocate to Billings. Because I am sure that we can, together, make this a Hellion chapter to be both proud of and a driving force in the growth of our club and our new city.”

  There was a smattering of applause as well as more than a few, ‘damn straight’ and ‘you said it, brother’ comments.

  “But we have quite the trek to make in convincing the citizens of this town, our new home that the Hellions are not here to wreak havoc but to ensure peace. To show that our club will only add to the city coffers, adding value where we can and continuing to strive towards the greater good of both our club and Billings as a whole.” Brand glanced down at the sole piece of paper that laid on the tabletop before him and Silo caught the movement of the other man’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

  Was he as nervous as Silo was? He sure the fuck didn’t show it in either word or in stance.

  “We had an incident the other night at our first party where someone or a gathering of unknown people felt the need to express their displeasure at our presence or our festivities. Because of the lack of lighting, we do not know who our uninvited guests were but can only witness the remains of the destruction they’d planned.”

  “Say what?” came a call from the back and Silo caught more than a few confused glances. Maybe it was time for him to step up.

  “Some asshole or ass-wipes decided they didn’t like whatever the fuck we were doing and threw firebombs over our fucking fence,” he recapped and saw the dawning of what had gone down in more than a few eyes. “Luckily, there weren’t no damage but we couldn’t identify the fuck-faces that did it because we didn’t have lights. Now, we fucking do.”

  “Thank you, Silo,” Brand whispered and took a sip from the glass that had been carefully placed next to the piece of paper. It was then that Silo recognized his real role, the role that the other man had needed him for—as a bridge. One that would span the gap between Brand’s brilliance as a leader and Silo’s way of dealing with people.

  “No worries, pres,” Silo said with a nod as he straightened to sit more upright in his chair.

  *.*.*.*.*

  David tightened the hold on the cheap carrier bag marked ‘Goodwill’ in big, bold blue letters as he accepted his change from the clerk. It had galled him to even enter the store but he’d had no choice when he’d felt the necessity to change his look, his way of dressing.

  As soon as the lowly cashier had dropped the last coin into his palm, David had raced to the door and exited, almost panting in his need of clean air after the close, smelly confines of the shop.

  ‘Just because I don’t, at the moment, have the means to shop elsewhere doesn’t make me one of them,’ he reminded himself. But his memories of his youth said differently, providing a variety of scenes of him, of his brothers and sisters gleefully sorting through the offerings of whatever second hand shop had clothes as they did their back to school shopping.

  In fact, it hadn’t been until he’d received his first paycheck from the local doughnut shop that he’d purchased a pair of brand new shoes. Every other pair he’d worn in his life up until that moment had held the impression of someone else’s feet.

  He could’ve blamed his current circumstance on Michelle and her call to his supervisor, a man well and truly beneath David in both looks and intellect. But casting that accusation her way would’ve been wrong. No, the condemnation remained with him and how long it had taken him to work up the courage to let her know of his interest, of how perfect they were for one another. If he hadn’t waited so long, she wouldn’t have ran to and then been found hurt from the biker club she’d somehow aligned herself with.

  As his car made its way back to the motel, he reviewed his conversation with Mr. Gillespie earlier in the afternoon.

  “You need to come in, son,” the older man had groused. “You’re due for testing and I need an update on the Palmer file.”

  They’d already gone through the niceties and the man had even admitted that Michelle had made a claim of harassment against him. But David felt that he’d successfully deflected the other man’s concerns by detailing he’d always wanted to visit Montana and had been surprised to find her living there.

  “I still have four days left of my vacation,” David had insisted, careful to keep his voice on an even note even though he’d wanted to beat the cellphone against the edge of the table of the restaurant where he’d been sitting.

  There had been a big sigh that his ears had caught through the clear line of their connection. One that told him the words that would follow would be harsher than the rest.

  “Your vacation is canceled as of today,” Gillespie had replied, his voice taking on a rougher edge. “Regulation states you aren’t allowed either your weapon or any other Bureau property such as binoculars or the company cellphone when you are outside of a government investigation.”

  David remembered how his heartbeat had increased at the thought that his ‘temporary borrowing’ had been discovered.

  “Actually, I’ve been instructed to put you on administrative leave without pay until you surrender your badge, cell and any other agency property that you have in your possession.” The other man had sounded truly saddened by David’s actions. “When can we expect you to come in, son? Or will you be turni
ng yourself over to the Billings office?”

  Fat chance of either! David knew, was absolutely convinced, that if he could just peel Michelle away from the dirt she was currently mired in, he could persuade her. Could get her to tell him of where the Milosevic money was as well as to show her that he was the man for her.

  “I’ll let you know, sir,” was all David could offer before he disconnected and turned off the phone, knowing they would deactivate it as soon as possible. Why did he need it anyway? He could always buy something cheap and besides by having it on him, the Bureau would know exactly where he was at any given moment.

  As he pulled into his slot at the sleazy motel, he saw one of the clerks coming towards him. But David already knew what the man needed to talk to him about, since the credit card he’d offered as payment on his arrival was one that billed direct to the FBI offices in Washington. He’d planned to use his next paycheck to settle any charges he knew wouldn’t be approved for reimbursement.

  “Moore? We need you to settle your bill…”

  David eased himself out of the car, deliberately leaving the bag of new-to-him clothes on the passenger seat. “Is there a problem?”

  “We got a call this afternoon saying the credit card you used is invalid and that we should only accept cash.” The younger, shorter man shifted from foot to foot and took a swipe at the hair that was hanging in his eyes as he spoke.

  “I’ll be able to get that to you tomorrow morning,” David replied, willing himself to smile politely even though his insides seized at the request for payment in cash. He had used the words himself on numerous occasions during an investigation and knew what they meant. He was only hoping that the clerk, who spent most of his time watching porn on the office computer, didn’t. “How much are the charges?”

  The other man’s eyes shifted and his cheeks colored, telling David of the man’s inexperience. “Two hundred, twelve dollars and thirty-four cents with tax.”