by Angel Steel
“What the fuck are you doin’ in my office, Zane?” Chopper growls as he steps closer to the desk. My hand quickly flashes behind me and grabs my own Glock and I raise it in one hand and aim it toward him, as he steps forward right to the edge of the desk, his gun still trained on me. I step around the desk, standing directly in front of him,
“Where are the order books?” I ask as I stare him down. He frowns slightly, glancing over at the safe then back to me and then he laughs. A deep belly laugh, as he stands in front of me.
“Why the hell should I tell you where they are, Zane?” Chopper asks as he composes himself.
“If you don’t you’re going to jail for life, Chopper. But if you give me the books now, I can drop your sentence down to five years for supplying the evidence we need.”
“You fucking little bastard,” he roars and charges me, throwing his body into my own and we fall to the ground. I roll from under him, pushing his gun out of his hand. His fist swings at my face, connecting once and kicks out, knocking me off of him. Pushing off my back, I flip onto my feet and stand as he does. I wipe my hand across my mouth, as he stares at me.
We circle around each other my arms hanging by my side waiting for his attack. It doesn’t take long before he shoots forward and swings at my head again. I spin my body to the side, missing the direct hit and shift behind him quickly, pulling his arms behind him and pinning them to his back.
“Fuck,” he shouts, fighting my hold.
“Are you going to give up, old man?” I ask adding more pressure to his arms.
“Fuck you,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
His head flies back. I shift sideways and move out of the way too slowly as his head hits the side of my jaw. My hold loosens enough for him to get out of it. He pivots around facing me and hits out again. My hand comes up and wraps around his fist, holding it in mid-air as he struggles against my grasp. He growls and his leg shoots out, kicking me in the thigh. I grunt at the pain and twist his fist around away from his body. He drops to his knees and howls out in pain as he struggles against me.
He’s not down long enough as he half-kneels and spins on his knee, knocking my feet out from under me. I drop to the ground, hitting my back with a grunt and roll as Chopper’s heavy booted foot comes down and misses my face, but slams on the floor where my head was seconds ago.
Catching my breath, I stand while Chopper charges toward me. I wait for the right moment, the second he’s a foot in front of me, his fist raised ready to hit, I spin on my left leg and whirl around, lifting my right up and smash my right foot into Chopper’s jaw. He staggers backward, slightly stunned, then cracks his jaw and stares at me, then moves forward yet again. I throw my right arm up, blocking the hit to the side of my head. As Chopper’s other arm drops slightly, I punch him in the gut, again and again. One left punch then a right punch. He curls his body over, raising his arms, trying to block my hits, but they just keep coming. One after the other.
Chopper doubles over, hand resting on the ground, blood dripping onto the cream carpet. I step away breathing heavily, and watch as Chopper begins pushing himself up from the ground and begins to stand up. He staggers on his feet and he takes a step toward the desk and stops. Cursing, I make a dash toward him, as Chopper grabs his gun from the floor and aims it directly at me. I freeze my movement for only a split second and I know I’m too late, twisting my body to the left as the gun goes off and turning straight back around, facing him again I begin striding over to him. The burning sensation in my upper arm doesn’t stop me, the pain only heightening my rage further.
I continue to move forward, he stares at me dumbfounded as I stop directly in front of him and raise my fist and slam into his ribs. He falls back slightly, then trips over his own feet and falls flat on his ass. I step back, staring down at him, this needs to end and now.
“Chopper if we don’t get those books, your life and Amelia’s are in danger. There are people after those books and they will kill anyone that gets in their way,” I tell him, watching as he struggles to sit upright on the ground.
“Who are you?” he wheezes from the floor. He pulls himself up more and leans his back against the desk.
“I’m black ops, undercover,” I answer him, truthfully. “Someone here is distributing drugs and selling them to the highest bidder from your shop,” I tell him and hold out my hand for him to take. He grips onto my own and I pull him up from the ground. He lets go as soon as he’s standing upright.
“You’ve got to be kidding me? Jesus!” he curses and shifts back and drops down into the seat at the desk, holding the right side of his ribs.
I’m still wary of him as he leans forward, resting his head in his hand. He doesn’t move only speaks, “Do you have an idea about who’s doing this?” he asks behind his hands.
“No, that’s why we need the books. We can narrow it down to a small list once we see who’s had bikes built specifically here.”
“Does Amelia know?” He lifts his head and looks right at me.
I know what he’s asking. “No, she doesn’t, and I want to keep it that way,” I reply and slide over to the spare seat in the room in front of the desk and sit down.
“You know it won’t stay like that, right? She’ll figure it out eventually.”
I knew she would, but as long as I keep it hidden long enough until this mission was over and done with, I wouldn’t have to worry once I was out of her life.
Not answering what he said, I continue, “Where are the books?”
“Amelia has them. She takes them home every night with her.” Chopper stands from his chair, gripping his right side and staggers over to the fridge in the corner and pulls out two beers and places one in front of me as he passes back and sits down again. I lift the beer to my lips and gulp a mouthful.
“Where would they be in her house?”
“Amelia isn’t getting involved in this, Zane,” he hisses through his teeth.
“She won’t. I just need the books,” I tell him.
“I’ll get her to bring them in.” His eyes look to my shoulder. “You’re bleeding,” he says with no concern in his voice.
“I’ll get it looked at when I leave.” I take another mouthful of my beer and place it down on the desk. “I need to get those books, Chopper. The sooner we have them, the sooner we know who we’re dealing with and lock the bastards up for good,” I say and stand from my chair.
“How’s this all going to play out, Zane? Is that even your real name?” he questions as he watches me closely.
“Once we have the list of names, my team will go through it narrowing them down and hopefully have a name or two and bring them in for questioning and find out exactly who they’re working for. And Zane is my real name,” I reply while I turn around and begin walking toward the door.
“I thought anyone that goes undercover changes their name,” Chopper says behind me.
“Not everyone,” I answer and open the door and walk out leaving Chopper at his desk.
I hit the receiver behind my ear. “Amelia has the books,” I voice and head out the back door and toward where I left my truck.
“Can you get in and retrieve them?” Masen’s deep voice comes through the ear piece.
“Chopper’s getting Amelia to bring them in. Once he has them, I’ll bring them back to base.” I detach the ear piece and climb through the wire fence and walk casually across the front lawn of the property, ignoring the barking from a dog at the side.
They’re getting closer to bringing Carlos down. It’s only a matter of time till we have him in our grasp, and then finally put him behind bars so he doesn’t harm another person. My fingers are crossed hoping one of the names that are in that book will connect us to Carlos. If it doesn’t connect with a name, we are back to square one.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Zane as he pushes the Harley across the work area and stops near the bench at the back of the mechanic shop. Brook stands to Zane’s left while Zane spea
ks to him about his bike.
Why do I need to be in here when all I do is airbrush? I have no reason to be in here, unless I’m bringing a bike back into my booth. Don’t get me wrong, I love being in the shop and getting my hands dirty, fixing or building bikes, but I’m not happy doing it with Zane, alone. I watch as Zane leans over the bike, pointing at something then Brook follows suit doing the same thing and listening to what he’s saying. The muscles along Zane’s back bunch up and bulge, each one rippling under his skin every time he shifts. The black smudges of oil covering his tan skin and the sweat running down his spine, I groan deep in my throat as my eyes glue to a trail that’s slowly sliding down his spine and stops once it reaches his denim jeans. Zane glances over his shoulder at me and a small smirk covers his lips.
Arrrg! I stomp my foot hard on the ground and spin around and push through the door, leaving the cocky bastard in the back. I round the corner to my booth as a hand grips me at my elbow. Swinging around, I come face to face with Zane.
Great, just what I need!
My eyes lift to his. Black oil smeared across his forehead and down his left cheek. A hand mark on his neck. I drop my gaze to his chest, licking my lips, more oil marks over his left nipple. I follow the marks down to his abdomen and to the top of his jeans. I start to raise my eyes when a trail of sweat sliding down the center of his chest catches my eye. Ever so slowly it descends down over his skin, leaving a small trail of wetness behind it as it disappears into his jeans.
Fuck! How can I fight this? I gulp and lift my eyes to his.
His eyes darken as he steps forward, and pushes his hard body against mine. I hold the moan back as I feel his hand trace down my arm and along my fingers.
“We need to work on the bike, Amelia,” he states staring into my eyes.
No! If I do exactly that, there’s no way we’d be working on that damn bike. I’ll cave and end up fucking Zane again, and I can’t do it. I’m already feeling more for him than I should. I need to stop it now from escalating any more. If not it’s going to be harder to get over him. Stepping back away from him, I shake my head and turn to start walking off, but I’m pulled up short as Zane spins me around, facing him yet again.
“What’s going on?” he questions, staring at me.
I take a step away from him. “Nothing Zane. I’m going back to the booth.”
I hear his footsteps behind me, but I don’t turn and keep walking. He grabs hold of my arm again, before he can turn me, I spin around and face him.
“What Zane?” I growl my hands on my hips as he stands in front of me.
“Chopper’s requested that we both work on the bike.”
Shaking my head. “That’s not my job, Zane. My place is in the booth and that’s where I’m going now,” I say, and turn away, but I don’t get very far. Zane moves quickly, grabs my hand in his and pulls me with him down the hall and toward the bathroom. I dig my heels in and he stops before we enter. “What the fuck, Zane?” I yell, ripping my arm from his and taking a step so I’m in his face. “Stop fucking grabbing me, Zane,” I hiss through my teeth. “I don’t mind helping out in the mechanic shop, but I can’t do it with you in there alone, okay?”
“What are you talking about?” he questions, shifting closer to me.
I close my eyes, my shoulders sagging. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Zane,” I whisper, feeling defeated. I feel the heat coming from his body in front of me. He grips my chin and forces it up and then I open my eyes and stare into his.
“Do you want it to end now, Amelia?” he asks his voice rough and unclear.
My vision blurs as tears well. Do I really want to end what’s happening between us? Even if it is just sex. Do I want just that or more? Was I ready for more? Jesus! I have no idea what I want any more or what my heart wants. Let alone what my body wants. Do I go with what my heart wants, or my body?
“Yes. No. I mean I don’t know,” I speak softly. His hand drops from my chin and steps back away from me. I drop my head forward hiding my tears as they slip from the corner of my eyes.
“Amelia,” his voice low.
“I can’t deal with you right now, okay? I need space,” I answer harshly. I glance up at his face, his eyes are darker and lips thin while he stares at me. The vein in his neck bulges as he takes one step in my direction and stops.
“If that’s what you want.”
I don’t get to reply as he spins around on his feet and storms away, leaving me where I am in the hall. My body sags and more tears leak from my eyes, as I watch him walk away from me. Did I do the right thing in saying I need space? Wiping at my cheeks, I turn and walk toward my booth. I need space! I keep repeating this to myself trying to justify it. I need time to figure out if I can handle just the sex between us, or if I want more than what we already have. But by the way Zane looks at me, he’s made the decision for both of us. Why can’t I just say it the way I want it, straight up? Why was it so damn hard to voice what I want, or what I think I need? Because I don’t want my heart broken like I know will happen. Each step I take away from him the pain in my chest intensifies, it hurts walking away from him. It was easy for him to do exactly that in return. But I need to do this. I need to think long and hard before I jump headfirst into whatever it is that we have between us. If there’s still something between us at all.
I don’t glance in Zane’s direction when he brings in Brook’s bike to be airbrushed. Not once. I can feel his eyes on me, my back to him as I play around with my spray gun, waiting for him to leave. I hear the main door open and close behind me. Letting the breath out I was holding, I turn around and curse under my breath as my eyes land on Zane’s back as he preps the bike. He’s still in here. Frowning, I glance toward the door and see Max standing there, glaring at Zane. I shift away from the bench and walk over to him.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, a little shocked that he’s here. He continues to stare at Zane. Raising my hand in front of his face and clicking my fingers to get his attention, his eyes drop from Zane to me and a smile covers his lips.
“I’m here to help. Chopper wants all work to be done by 4:00 p.m.”
“Why are we closing up an hour early?” I question, ignoring the noises behind me.
“I didn’t ask,” Max answers and looks over my shoulder and frowns slightly.
Okay, weird!
“Bike’s ready, Hellcat,” my body stills as Zane says my nickname.
Straightening my shoulders, I turn around, but I don’t look at him. “Right, let’s get this done,” I say, pushing passed Zane and walking over to the bike. Heavy footsteps echo through the room and then the door slams behind me. I know it’s Zane that’s left. I’m slightly relieved that he has in a way. If he stayed, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Pulling on my apron and picking up my spray gun, I move over to the bike pulling my stool with my foot. Sitting down and rolling the stool closer to the bike, I look over at Max. “Can you bring that trolley with you?”
He reaches the trolley and drags it behind him then stops near me. “What do you want me to do?”
“Can you start on the rear fender and mask the outline of the flames then do the same on the front fender?”
“Yeah sure,” he replies and gets to work.
I lean forward and tweak some of the tape till I’m happy with it and start to spray.
We sit in silence for the next hour as we both spray the bike. Doing the last shadow to the flame, I lean back looking over my work. The only thing I have left to do is the highlights. I stand from the stool and stretch my back, I groan as it cracks when leaning to the right. Straightening, I walk over to the bench space and grab my other gun and look over my bench. It’s way too quiet in the room. I hate the quiet. I think too much when I don’t have anything to listen to. I usually have my iPod playing music in the background, but I was occupied and didn’t turn it on.
I turn to face the bike again and notice Max bouncing his leg up and down as he sprays the front fender. I
noticed several times over the last hour that he keeps glancing at his watch. I step over and touch him on the shoulder and he stops instantly.
“Are you all right?” I ask concerned.
He pushes back from the bike and stands up. “Yeah,” he mumbles.
“Really? You seem a little unsettled. Is there somewhere you need to be?” I shrink away from him as he glares my way.
“I’m fine, Amelia,” he growls and stomps over to the bench and throws the spray gun down on it.
“Hey. No, you’re not. Talk to me, Max,” I say following him.
He spins around quickly. “There’s nothing to talk about, Amelia,” he hisses and spins around again making his way to the main door. I race after him and grip onto his arm before he slides the door open.
“You’re not acting yourself, Max. Maybe it’ll help to talk about whatever has you acting this way,” I answer, rubbing my thumb along his arm.
He rips his arm from my grip and glowers down at me. “How ‘bout you stay out of everyone’s business and work on your own, Amelia,” he spits out and slams the sliding door open and storms off down the hall. I’m left there stunned at his outburst toward me. Maybe he’s right that I do need to stay out of people’s business and work on my own. It wasn’t that simple to do though. Since I don’t know how to fix what’s going on with me.
I hate seeing my friends upset or hurt. I know there’s something going on with him. Maybe it’s best to leave it for a bit. Shaking my head, I’ve never seen him act this way either toward me or anyone else here. Something’s definitely going on and I will find out later on.
Sliding the door closed, I hit the play button on my iPod as I pass and step back over to the bike to finish off the highlights. I glance at the clock on the wall, I have twenty minutes to finish up then it’s time to leave. I slide onto my stool, raise the spray gun and begin adding the highlights to the flame while I hum to, ‘OMG’ by Usher.
Sliding the booth door closed behind me, glad that I’ve finished the bike in time and make my way toward the locker room. I’m in need of a shower, after the rush job on Brook’s bike. Pulling my apron off as I walk down the hall and dump it in the trash can as I pass because there’s no way I was getting the paint out of it. That’s why I’d told my dad it’s easier to buy disposable ones instead of constantly washing the ones we have. I turn the corner and see the locker room ahead. With a slight bounce in my step, I quicken my pace. As I step closer, I hear someone talking near my dad’s office. I can’t make out who it is. Stepping quietly I glance around the corner that faces my dad’s office and spot Zane standing there on the phone. His eyes go from my dad’s office to the back door and back again. Frowning, I walk around the corner and move closer to him. Listening as I go.