by Nicole James
Lyle’s eyes widened at the insinuation that the next beating would be reserved for his grandmother. It was something Undertaker would never do, but it served his purpose to let him believe it. He wanted the motherfucker scared; he wanted him shaking in his fucking shoes.
“You like to hear women scream and plead for you to stop?” He flexed his fist again. “Yeah, I do, too.”
Lyle tried to say something, but it just came out muffled.
The boys all laughed.
“Think he’s tryin’ to say something, boss,” Sandman taunted. “You want to hear it, or you want me to knock his teeth down his throat?”
Undertaker looked at Sandman and lifted his chin toward Lyle. Sandman took the signal and slammed his fist into Lyle’s stomach. With that the beating began.
***
When the guys made it back to the clubhouse that night, Undertaker was exhausted. He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked over to the bar and signaled the prospect for his usual. The kid brought him a bottle and a shot glass.
Mooch and the boys joined him.
He’d downed one shot when Bug approached him.
“Got that information you wanted, Prez.”
Undertaker turned, the shot glass still in his hand. “Yeah? What’d you find out?”
“Ronald LeMonte was released about two weeks ago.” Bug slid a piece of paper across the bar. “Here’s what’s listed as his current address in the system.”
Undertaker picked it up and studied it, then his eyes lifted to Bug. “Anything else?”
“He’s got one surviving brother, Donald LeMonte. As far as family goes, that’s it. Can’t find anything that shows he’s found employment yet.”
“Thanks, man.”
Bug nodded and walked off.
Undertaker stopped him with one final order. “Hey, you find a current photo of him?”
“Got his latest prison photo.”
“Print a copy and bring it to me.” Undertaker ordered, then turned back to the men at the bar. “Got another job, boys.”
There were several groans.
“Tonight?” Sandman asked.
“Yeah.” Undertaker slid him the piece of paper. “Need you to do a little surveillance on this address. Guy’s name is Ronald LeMonte. Did time in prison with him. See what he’s up to.”
Sandman studied the address. “You want us to knock on the door, scare the shit out of him?”
Undertaker shook his head. “No. Don’t let him know you’re there.”
Bug walked up and handed a piece of copy paper to him. Undertaker passed it to Sandman. “Here’s your guy. Might have his twin brother with him.”
“You want photos?”
“Yeah. Anything you can get. And I’ve got something else on for the morning. Need you back here at eight a.m.”
More groans all around as they headed out the door.
The corner of Undertaker’s mouth pulled up. He had ten years on all of them; they’d survive.
***
Easy climbed up on the roof of the garage in the back of the neighbor’s yard. Sandman and Joker climbed up with him.
He focused the telephoto lens of the camera they’d brought at the house on the other side of the fence. The place was run-down, with an attached carport to the side and a covered porch on the back. A soft golden glow came from the lights inside. The drapes on the sliding glass doors that faced the backyard were open, giving him a perfect view inside. “Looks like two guys and a girl.”
“She cute?” Joker asked with a grin.
“Can’t tell. She’s partially out of view.”
“What are they doing?” Sandman asked.
“They’re arguing.”
“Who?”
“The two guys.”
Raised voices carried across the yard.
“You catch any of that?” Sandman asked.
“Nope. Too garbled from here,” Easy replied.
Sandman glanced at Joker. “How ‘bout you?”
“Something about a waste of time. Didn’t hear the end.”
“I’m gonna try to get closer,” Sandman murmured and made to shift to the edge to climb down. He lost his grip and slid, rolling off the sloped roof toward the edge. Easy made a grab for him, catching his wrist. Sandman hung half off, his feet flailing at the air. It was too much strain, and his sleeve slipped through Easy’s fingers. Sandman landed with a thud on the other side of the fence.
Easy and Joker peered over the edge.
“You dead?” Easy whispered.
Sandman groaned. “Fuck you.”
“He’s good.”
“Hey, Easy,” Sandman wheezed.
“Yeah, brother.”
“Remember that time you threw me off a roof and broke some of my ribs and then all the remaining ones.”
“I didn’t throw you; I dropped you, fat boy.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At eight a.m. Monday morning, ten bikes rolled out of the clubhouse and rode a half hour to the St. Tammany Parish Courthouse in Covington, Louisiana. The men arrived early and backed their bikes to the curb in a long line right outside the entrance.
Undertaker wanted them to be the first thing Lyle saw when he and his attorney arrived. He also planned to send a couple of the boys inside to observe what happened, just an extra reminder to Lyle. Of course they’d have to leave their colors and weapons behind to gain entry to the building and its metal detectors, but that was a small price to pay.
Undertaker saw today as a way for both his and AJ’s worlds to combine—a way to show how they could work together and complement each other, if only now and then. He’d had a glimpse last night of how dangerous her work could be, and he hadn’t liked it. It was something he intended to change. She’d never be without his protection again.
He lit a cigarette, blew the smoke toward the sky, and asked Easy, “So, what’d you find out last night?”
“That Sandman has no balance.”
The other men snickered.
“Shut the fuck up, asshole. That roof was slick with moss and slime,” Sandman justified.
“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, big boy,” Easy teased.
Undertaker studied Sandman, one eye shut through the exhale of smoke he blew out, and asked, “What happened?”
Easy filled him in. “He fell off the roof.”
Undertaker chuckled. “That why you were bitchin’ about your back hurtin’?”
“Yeah.” Sandman looked over at his President for some sympathy. “Since I joined this MC, I’ve been shot, stabbed, blown up, thrown off a building—”
Easy cut him off. “Again, I didn’t throw you. I dropped you, fat boy. My hands slipped because there was three hundred pounds of asshole hanging off them.”
“Two-eighty, dickhead.”
“Whatever.”
Sandman stared back at Undertaker. “See what I’ve gotta put up with?”
“Did you fuckups actually do any recon?”
“He was there, him, his brother, and a girl,” Easy replied.
“And?”
“Not much to tell. They were drinking and arguing about some shit or another. Couldn’t get close enough to tell. They had guns, though. Saw ‘em through the window.”
“Yeah, had a small arsenal laid out on the coffee table,” Joker added.
Undertaker nodded, drawing on his cigarette. “He didn’t waste any time, did he?”
“Nope. We just have no clue what he’s up to. Any reason he’d come after you?” Mooch asked.
Undertaker’s eyes shifted to him, a ton of unspoken thoughts communicated in that one look.
Mooch stiffened. “Fucking hell.”
Undertaker’s gaze was drawn to three women approaching from the parking lot—Shelby, her attorney, and AJ. When AJ spotted him, she excused herself and headed his way.
He took another long drag, dropped his cigarette to the concrete, and ground it out beneath the heel of his boot. His eyes ran over her. She looke
d damn sexy in the tight black suit with her hair up in a bun. The severe hairstyle made him want to pull the pins from it, freeing her long tresses so he could run his fingers through them. Her high heels clicked on the sidewalk, drawing his attention from her hair to her long legs.
“Good morning.” Her voice was bright, her smile just for him.
He grinned back. “Mornin’, beautiful.”
Her eyes moved over the line of bikes and the men lounging against them. “This for Lyle’s benefit?”
“Just a little reminder.”
“I see.”
Undertaker lifted his chin toward Shelby and her attorney. “She okay?”
“Yes.” AJ nodded to the show of force the line of bikes made. “This helps. She seemed relieved when she saw all of you here. I don’t think she really believed you’d come through for her.”
Undertaker’s gaze shifted over her shoulder. “There he is now. Better get her inside.”
AJ turned to see Lyle approaching from the parking lot with his attorney. He was limping and even from here it was apparent his face was battered. She turned back to him. “You do that?”
“Do what?” Undertaker played innocent. “He probably just took a bad fall runnin’ from police last night. I’m sure if you ask him, that’ll be his explanation.”
When she raised her brow, he again lifted his chin toward Shelby. “Get her inside, babe.”
***
Two hours later, Blood and Sandman walked out of the courthouse and over to Undertaker. They looked damn strange without their club colors on.
“What happened?” Undertaker growled.
“He cut a deal. Judge gave him two years,” Blood replied.
“Fuck,” Undertaker bit out. “He’ll be out in six months.”
“At least it’s something,” Sandman added. “You shoulda seen his expression when he spotted the two of us in the back row with our arms folded, givin’ him the death stare.”
Blood chuckled. “Shelby didn’t even have to testify. The little punk-ass took one look at us, and before the trial even started he told his attorney he’d take the deal the DA had offered.”
Undertaker nodded. “We’ll have to keep him on our radar. Make sure we’re around the day he gets out.”
“Be my pleasure to break that son-of-a-bitch’s legs,” Blood offered.
“You might get your wish if he ever comes near that girl again,” Undertaker assured him.
AJ, Shelby, and her attorney made their way outside, and Undertaker jerked his head. “You boys head on out. I’ll catch up with you back at the clubhouse.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Go.”
They all mounted up.
“And thanks,” Undertaker added.
They nodded, fired up their bikes, and roared off down the street. That left just him and his lone bike at the curb. He sat sideways on the seat and watched as Shelby shook her attorney’s hand. The woman walked off toward the parking lot and AJ and Shelby headed his way.
Shelby looked demure in a floral dress, the cast still on her arm, but the thing he noticed the most was the way she stood straighter, her face lighter, no longer beaten down or afraid. They stopped at his bike.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
She nodded. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did.”
“My pleasure, Shelby. You can rest easy now. He won’t bother you again. You got my word.”
She searched his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s that?”
“Why did you do this for me?”
Undertaker’s eyes shifted to AJ. “Let’s just say it was a favor for a friend.”
“Well, thank you.” She moved toward him, laid her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek. Next she hugged AJ. “Thank you, too, Dr. Carter.”
AJ patted her back. “I’ll meet you back at the car. I just want to speak with him for a moment.”
“Sure.” She walked toward the parking lot.
The sun was climbing high in the sky, and even though it was fall, the last few days had been hot; today was shaping up to be no different. Undertaker’s eyes moved to the tendrils at AJ’s neck. They curled with the humid heat. It made him want to kiss her there.
She turned back from watching Shelby walk away, catching his eyes running over her. “What?”
He shook his head, and a smile tugged at his mouth. “Just imagining pulling those pins from your hair.”
She blushed. “Oh, really?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely, sugar.”
Her eyes swept over him as he lounged on the bike. “You look good sitting there.”
His eyes swept over her. “You look good standing there.”
She grinned, and then glanced toward the parking lot. “I need to take her home and get back to my office for an appointment.”
He nodded. “You free Thursday night? Maybe we can finish our date… uninterrupted this time.”
She bit her lip, and he imagined all the places on his body he’d like that mouth.
“It’s my girlfriend’s birthday. A few of us girls are taking her out for drinks.”
He nodded. “And after that?”
“After that I might be free.”
“Not anymore, babe.”
“I can’t promise, but I’ll call you, okay?”
“Okay. Now, you gonna come over here and give me a kiss, or do I have to get up off this bike?” She glanced around, like she was afraid someone she knew might see her, and he stiffened, adding, “Unless you got a problem with being seen with me.”
She turned back to him and held his eyes. Then she stepped down off the curb and put her arms around his neck. The kiss she gave him was long and deep and anything but demure. His hands closed around her tiny waist.
When she finally ended the kiss, she gazed deep into his eyes. “Any doubts now?”
“No, ma’am.”
She stepped back, and he let her go, his hands slipping from their hold.
“I’ll see you Thursday,” she whispered.
“Count on it,” he growled and watched her walk away, his eyes on her phenomenal ass as he lifted his bike up off the kickstand and fired it up. The week was looking better and better.
***
Delilah waited in the hot car on the side of the road where she’d been told to park. She had no clue what the purpose of this scheme was, but she knew better than to question Ronnie.
The walkie-talkie on the seat crackled.
“He’s coming. You know what to do,” Ronnie’s voice snapped.
Yes, unfortunately she did. Doing as she was ordered, she climbed from the car in her short dress and high heels and stood by the open fuel door. She picked up the large red and gold gas can and pretended to fumble with it.
When she heard the rumble of the bike, she dropped the gas can, acting totally incompetent. She flagged down the motorcycle.
The bike slowed as it passed her and rolled to a stop on the side of the road in front of her car. The biker climbed from his motorcycle and ambled back toward her.
She hadn’t expected him to be so good looking, and he momentarily took her breath. His eyes were hidden behind dark shades, but the rest of his face was beautiful, and she knew his eyes would be, too. She tore her gaze from him, forcing herself to remember what she was supposed to say and do.
“You need some help, darlin’?” he asked, pulling the shades from his face.
She gave him her best Julia Roberts smile, using all her best flirting skills, the tilt of the head, the flip of the hair. “Oh yes, sir. I ran out of gas, and I just can’t get the hang of getting this spout in the tank. It splashes everywhere.” She held her hand out to shake his, remembering Ronnie’s specific order to do so. “I’m Darcy.”
He tugged his gloves off to shake her hand, just like Ronnie said he would. His hand was warm and firm as it gripped hers.
He grinned, stuffing the gloves in his pocket, and moved toward the gas can. “Be gl
ad to help you out, Darcy.”
She watched him tip the metal can up, emptying the gas into the tank and then screwing the cap back on.
He lifted his chin toward the driver’s seat. “Give it a crank. See if it starts.”
She climbed in and turned the key. The engine fired right up. She hoped that wouldn’t cause him to get suspicious, so to distract him, she leaned out, giving him another bright smile and a shot of her cleavage. “Oh, thank you! I’m saved! Yay!”
He placed the empty can in her backseat, shut her door, and leaned against the frame of the open driver’s window. “You’re all set then, sweetheart.”
“Yes, thank you so much.”
He nodded and stepped back. She pulled out onto the road, leaving him standing there, watching after her. She glanced in her rearview mirror. He’d seemed nice, and she hated to think that Ronnie had something bad in store for him. And she really hated that she was a party to any of it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
How’s your night going?
AJ read the text on her phone and smiled as she texted back her reply.
You’ll never guess where the girls wanted to take Amy.
A moment later her phone chimed with a response.
Bourbon Bar?
Yes.
No shit?
No shit.
She grinned at her smartass answer. When there was no further reply, she slipped her phone back into her tiny evening bag and picked up her glass to sip on her Apple-tini.
She crossed her legs, their long length revealed by her short silver spangled mini dress. She and her three girlfriends sat at a high-top table in the crowded nightclub. A driving dance beat pulsed around them in perfect sync with the flashing light show.
It wasn’t but a couple of minutes after her last text to Undertaker that the waitress came over with another round of drinks.