by Wynne Roman
I let Bear go in first. During his one day at the clubhouse, Cody talked most to him — if that even means anything.
“Dude!” Bear shouts in a deceptively jovial voice. His fake happy-go-lucky-attitude works great when we need to mislead a guy or put somebody at ease. “Didn’t I see you at the Hell’s Creed clubhouse last week?”
Cody looks up, his reaction a beat ahead of his buddies. They all stare at Bear long enough to give their brains a few seconds to catch up to what’s going on around them. Instinct tells me they smoked or snorted or shot up something long before they got here.
Three suspicious expressions stare back until Cody’s face eases into a growing smile. “Hey, dude! Yeah, I remember you. You were there when that bitch fired me.”
I stand back in the darkness, waiting for the fucker to remember that Bear also helped escort him off the property. Shiner, Crow, and Wood remain just behind me as back up.
Either Cody’s memory is shot, or he’s too drunk, high, or both to put the details together. He sure as hell doesn’t come up with it. Instead, he pounds a couple of nails in his own damn coffin when he adds, “Well, I took care of that cunt. We —” he points to his laughing buddies “— left her a little message.”
“She got it.” I step forward, my patience snapping quicker than I expected, but — goddamn. It pisses me off to hear him bragging. “And we’re here to reply.”
The three stooges stare back at me with matching expressions: laughter turned to confusion. They’d look damn funny if I weren’t already so fucking pissed. Marty and Brian — whichever is which — look from me to Bear and back. I can tell the instant they catch sight of the others behind me and recognize the cut.
“Uh, hey man,” says one of them. I don’t know who’s who, and I don’t give a fuck. “You’re Hell’s Creed.”
“That’s right,” I agree and take a menacing step that brings me closer to the table. “And you’re the dickwads who fucked with us.”
“I — we . . . what?” asks the other one. Drunken uncertainty gives way to a rising panic on both their faces.
“You didn’t know Burton Construction’s under our protection? Your buddy —” I say the word with just the right edge to make it sound like an insult “— didn’t tell you that?”
“Burton Construction?” Puzzlement rules again.
“The cunt’s place,” Cody mutters, raising his gaze to mine and giving me a clearer look at his face. His pupils are dilated, his mouth slack at the corners, and I know for certain that he’s more than just drunk.
We exchange stares for a second longer, and then he slurs, “Wait a minute! You’re the dude who stuck up for her. Must be fuckin’ her.” He blinks and his eyes narrow. “Bet that pussy’s tight as a fist. What I wouldn’t give to get her mouth around my cock —”
Bang! His hair is in my hand and his face smashed into the tabletop before he knows what hit him.
“Jesus!” The other two try to scoot away, but Bear and Shiner are there to keep them close.
“Ow! What the fuck?” Cody tries to jerk back, but his movements are awkward and jerky. He grabs for his nose as blood gushes over his face. Pretty sure it’s broken, but I don’t give a shit. Gonna be a lot more blood by the time I’m done.
“Told you.” I keep my voice soft and deliberate. “Burton Construction is under our protection. Ainsley, too. That means you keep your filthy fucking comments to yourself.”
“Look, man, we don’t want any trouble,” says one of the other stooges in a whiny voice. I don’t look away from Cody’s bloody face when I answer.
“Too late for that, asshole. You invited a world of fucking trouble when you went into her office with sledgehammers and ransacked the place.”
“But we —”
“You motherfucker!”
One cuts off the other, and both men stare at Cody. They wear duplicate expressions of horror and more than a twinge of fear. Both satisfy as much as they irritate me.
Cody doesn’t look back at his buddies; he’s too busy sneering at me. “Listen, asshole,” he starts in the same cocky voice he used when talking to Ainsley. The words choke off when I grab him by the throat and jerk him to his feet.
“I’m listening.”
Gurgle. It’s the only sound he can make.
“Now you listen.” The sound of scuffling comes from behind me, and I know Bear and Shiner are dragging the others close enough to hear the words I’m saying in a soft voice deliberately calculated to scare the shit out of these assholes. I don’t usually give warnings, but this is a special case.
I want these motherfuckers to listen.
“Ainsley Burton is off limits. Her company is off limits. The MC is off. Fucking. Limits. You wanna keep living and breathing and drinking and snorting and whatever the fuck else you do? Then you’re gonna fucking walk away. You get me?”
Gurgle. Gasp. Gurgle.
I tighten my fingers around Cody’s throat just enough to make an impression. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t trust you fuckwads. Now, my brothers and I are gonna teach you a lesson about what happens when you fuck with Hell’s Creed or our property, and I recommend you pay the fuck attention.”
AINSLEY
Finally, the clubhouse kitchen flooring tile has been delivered. Only a week late. A part of me thinks I should still be pissed about the delay, but, honestly, I just don’t have it in me. Too much has happened since the day I placed the order. Then, I was excited and a little bit overcome by the unexpected opportunity. Now . . . well, everything has changed. The innocent disruption in my self-imposed schedule simply doesn’t carry the same importance as it did a week ago.
Now I’m facing a trashed office, a workshop that’s all but destroyed, and most of the company’s equipment is damaged if not ruined completely. Keeping Burton Construction afloat, with or without the chance at bidding the Hell’s Creed project, is looking less and less likely.
If I can’t manage that, my father’s legacy will almost certainly be gone.
But, I keep reminding myself, the devastation isn’t complete. A lot of tools and equipment are actually here at the clubhouse. It’s common enough to keep the necessary gear on the job site or in my truck, and it just might save my ass this time. The company’s documents and financial records are stored on the cloud and easy enough to access from any computer. Joker had Tex, Keg, and another prospect take care of fixing the door, while Snake is working on upping the security.
With all that, I think I can limp along for a while yet.
I know these things, think about them, remind myself to go over all the details in my head so I don’t miss anything. I even try, but my concentration is shitty at best. Yeah, I know it’s important and I want to focus my attention exactly where I need to, but I just can’t do it. Instead, I’m anxious and unhappy — and it isn’t only because of the break-in.
I’m your man now.
Talon’s words echo in my head and have since he said them. I’m your man now. I’m your man. Your man.
Did Talon really say that? Yeah, I know he did, but what exactly does that mean? To him? To me? And, the biggest question of them all, how do I feel about it?
Don’t be an idiot, my conscience complains. You’re falling in love with him.
The certainty inside stops me cold. I go from walking through the clubhouse kitchen to standing next to the newly-installed island, suddenly unmoving and on the verge of collapsing to the floor.
Falling in love with him? How can that be true? We hardly know each other, and I have no idea how he feels about me.
Saying I’m your man isn’t the same as a declaration of love — and I’m not sure I’d believe him, even if he said it. So what the hell do I do now?
I force myself to move again. I can’t stand around daydreaming about Talon and all the possibilities any more than I can pretend I’m not thinking about him. The only solution is to keep moving, keep working, and let events play out however they’re supposed to.
&
nbsp; Determined, I grab my measuring tape and start to refigure the tile layout. I won’t start the actual installation until tomorrow when I can complete it in a day. Today, maybe I’ll feel more settled if I refigure all my calculations. Double check so something in my world feels certain.
I’m bent over to slip the end of the tape around the bottom corner of the island when a hand smooths over my butt. “Goddamn, sweet thing. That ass is perfect.”
I squeak and straighten, spinning to face Talon. I see Bear, Crow, Wood, and Shiner milling around the bar in the next room, and Bear waves. I wave back.
I swallow. “Where have you been?”
“Taking care of business.”
“What kind of business?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I have an idea what they were doing, and I know Talon isn’t going to tell me anything. He wouldn’t answer any questions before they left.
“Club business.” He responds as expected but comes closer until his groin rests tightly against my stomach. He reaches out, but I grab his hand before he can touch me.
“You’re hurt!” I stare at his red, raw knuckles. The skin is broken, and dried blood dots the discolored area.
“It’s nothing.”
He tries to pull away, but I hold tightly. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he repeats.
“Were you fighting?”
I want to cringe, hearing the bossy tone that sharpens my voice. Talon must find it funny, because he grins and says, “Yes, ma’am.”
“You . . .” What do I say? “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he says again. “Club business. I can tell you that Cody won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“No?” It sounds kind of breathy and uneasy, but I’m even more off-center now. To think that Talon — my man — went to battle for me is kind of hot.
Okay, that’s a total over-dramatization of what probably happened. No real battle, no war, nothing like that. Just a couple of guys in a fight, but the fact remains: Talon stuck up for me, and that means something.
“No,” he agrees. “He and his buddies are rethinking staying around Prospect Falls. Guess they’re thinking Sacramento or maybe Fresno would be a better place for them.”
“They’re leaving?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” I say the word slowly, because I’m trying — and failing — to think. “What now?”
Talon’s smile grows, and his eyes darken to a rich chocolate brown that highlights the wicked tease flickering in their depths. “Now?” He jerks me tightly against him.
“Now,” I agree.
“Now I take you upstairs and fuck you within an inch of your life.”
I laugh until he throws me over his shoulder and turns on one heel to stalk from the room. “Talon!” I screech, but he doesn’t stop.
I hear the laughter from behind us, and Bear shouts, “Give it to him good, Seattle!” I squirm, but it does nothing except generate more amused shouting.
“You’re my reward —” Talon smacks my ass “— and I’m taking it.”
Ten
AINSLEY
Joker’s office looks a lot like I expected it to. Beat up old desk, some file cabinets, leather couch along one wall, and a couple of chairs for visitors. The only thing that surprises me is the laptop, and I feel kind of bad about that.
Why did I assume that the Hell’s Creed president wouldn’t be computer savvy? I’m as guilty of buying into a negative stereotype as those who think women can’t build things or run a business.
My cheeks heat as I drop into one of the chairs that fronts Joker’s desk. I can’t really apologize — Joker and Talon and the others don’t know how I underestimated them — but I vow to be more openminded in the future.
Talon sits down next to me, while Nyet spreads out on the sofa. I don’t know the vice president well, but he seems to always be there, waiting and watching. This meeting is no exception.
Joker rests his elbows on the desktop, links his fingers together, and stares at me. “The kitchen remodel is done.”
“Yes.” I nod. “I finished the tile work yesterday. That was the last of it unless you find some punch list items for me to take care of.”
“Sassy’s real happy so far. I told her to take a look for anything that isn’t right.”
I smile with a confidence that goes all the way through me. I did my best and know if she finds anything, it will be small. “Absolutely,” I agree. “That’s the way I work.”
“Talon?” Joker looks at the man next to me. My man, as he calls himself, is staring at me.
“I transferred money into your account this morning.”
I blink. “Pardon?”
“Told you we’d pay you.”
Well, yes, they had, but we’d never discussed the price. It had been foolish on my part; I’ve known that from the beginning. It’s poor business practice, but I had a bigger goal in mind. I let it ride, and now they — or Talon? — took care of it themselves.
I’m as grateful as I am uneasy. I’m used to having to fight for every penny the company and I earn. How strange to have it taken care of without a word.
“Thank you.” I make eye contact with all three men.
“You earned it,” says Joker, and I smile my thank you. It’s the nicest compliment I’ve had in a long, long time.
“There’s more,” Talon announces, sounding completely professional, and my nerves ratchet up a notch for the first time today.
Things have been good between us since he came back from taking care of Cody. Really good. So good, I haven’t even tried to find out any details about what went down. Talon answered, “Club business,” the couple of times I brought it up, and so I just let it go.
Suddenly, I wonder if I should have.
“Okay . . .” I drag the word out as my imagination goes haywire. I look at each of the men.
“We’re takin’ a vote,” Nyet admits sounding completely disinterested.
“A vote?”
Joker gives an emphatic nod. “Gonna let the brothers decide if Burton Construction can bid our reno project.”
The breath leaves my body in an audible whoosh. I hate to be so transparent, but this is like a freaking dream come true! It’s what I’ve been working toward for months, what I busted my ass remodeling their kitchen for.
Now, though, it doesn’t feel quite the same. I mean, I still want Burton Construction to succeed, but is it even possible? As soon as I’m done here, I’m heading over to the office to sort through the mayhem and destruction.
Is there enough left to even consider mounting a proposal for any kind of project at all, let alone one of the scope that the request for proposals suggested H.C. Enterprises was considering?
And what about Talon and our still very new relationship? He says he’s my man, and he and the MC all act like that means something. If that’s true, does me bidding this construction project affect us? And, if so, how?
I take a breath. It’s shaky, embarrassingly so, and so I take another. I look at each of the men. They stare back, waiting for me to say something.
I can’t help it. I take Talon’s hand, squeeze, and smile like I haven’t in longer than I can remember. “I literally never thought I would hear those words come from any of you,” I laugh.
“You worked hard,” admits Joker. “You deserve the chance.”
I’m grinning like a fool, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. And, I ask myself after a second why should I?
This was all I ever wanted. Just to be considered exactly like any other construction company.
TALON
Chapel is a large, mancave kind of room. It’s where we conduct business, patched members only, and we’re collected together now. Joker sits at the head of a large, scarred wooden table, with Nyet on his right, and Breaker on his left. Prez, V.P., and Sergeant at Arms. I’m next to Breaker.
“First order of business,” Joker announces sounding all business-like. He doesn’t look
at me. “Kitchen remodel and Burton Construction.”
A chorus of agreeing grunts echo around me, and Joker continues. “Sassy’s real happy with the new kitchen. We paid Ainsley for the work, and she agreed to fix any mistakes or last minute damage.”
“She was good to work with,” Crow agrees. “She expected a lot but worked as hard as any man.”
“Didn’t get the job done on time,” points out Tex.
“No,” Crow acknowledges, “but that wasn’t her fault. Flooring was delayed. She took it in stride, took her time to give us a quality installation, and still finished only two days late.”
Satisfaction eases through me. Crow sticking up for her before me makes the whole situation that much easier. Personal shit is one thing; the brothers know Ainsley is mine. But this is business shit, and that’s different. The way we got to this point is complicated, and it’s my job to put the club first.
Joker, Bear, and most of the others nod. Only Nyet, that unhappy son of a bitch, and Tex, with a permanent stick up his ass, look unimpressed.
“You paid her off.” Joker looks at me. “How’d the numbers look?”
“Under budget.” Not by much, but Ainsley paid attention to how much she had to spend and made it work.
Joker nods and glances around the table. “Other questions?”
“About the remodel or the girl?” asks Nyet.
I tense, but Joker lifts an indifferent shoulder. “Anything.”
“What about the shit with the guy you beat down?” Nyet stares straight at me, his tone as casual as a snake.
“What about it?”
“Any blowback?”
Shiner laughs, which eases any growing tension. The enforcer isn’t known as a man who finds amusement in much. Dealing with Cody and his crew was fucking hilarious.
“Those three assholes are probably halfway to Alaska by now,” Shiner adds, still chuckling.
“Know for sure they ain’t stickin’ around here,” puts in Bear. “Said they were goin’ to Sacramento, but I bet you a night in Bumblebee’s pussy their asses are too fuckin’ scared to stay anywhere in California.”