by Cathryn Cade
"Oh, almost forgot," he said, putting a hand to his pocket. "Gotcha a new phone, since yours went missing."
He handed it to her, and watched her eyes widen, her plump lips part as she examined the pearly white smart-phone with a swirly gold design on the case. He was proud of his choice, it was pretty and feminine as fuck. Just like her.
"T," she breathed. "You shouldn't have." Then she held out the phone to him, reluctance written all over her face. "I can't accept this."
T opened his mouth to tell her if she felt bad about it, they could trade for the two Benjamins he'd given her, but thought better of that in the nick of time. Reminding her he'd originally thought her a whore would just hurt her feelings again. And besides, he wanted her to keep that money. A woman needed some cash or credit cards in her purse, or bad shit could happen—and in her case, already had.
"Got a BOGO deal," he said instead. "I needed one too, see? Last one got stolen." He did not mention this had happened at the clubhouse Didn't want her to think he lived in a den of thieves.
He was gettin' good at this tactful shit.
“Your phone’s covered by my insurance, too. Moke made me buy it this time.”
Manda gave him a look, but her brown eyes were soft. "Well... all right. But soon as I'm working again, I'm gonna pay you back. You know that, right?"
"I can give you ideas on that payback right now," he said. "No money involved. I like cookies, pie and cake. Any flavor you wanna bake, although I'm extra partial to snickerdoodles, chocolate chip cookies, and apple pie. I'll buy the stuff, you do the bakin'. An' if you wanna add in a little shakin' while you're bakin', that's good too." He lifted his arms and waggled his hips.
She laughed, so that was a win. "I don't usually dance while I bake. Makes me drop things."
"All the better. You drop anything on the floor, you gotta bend over in your little skirt, which'll be short. Then I get to see your panties, an' if they're anywhere as sexy as them little white lace ones, I'll be a happy man."
She put her hands to her face to hide her laughter, and nearly smacked herself in the nose with her new phone. "You're a nut," she mumbled into her hands.
He politely ignored her name-calling, lifted his phone and pressed the fourth number on speed dial. Her phone sounded with the first lines of Abba's hit song, 'Honey, Honey." She let out a little shriek, and dropped the phone on the bed.
"That's me callin' you," he told her over the singing. "So now you got my number in your contacts. You can add who else you want.”
Manda found the right button and silenced his call.
He went on. ”You got a new number, which is bad ‘cause you’ll have to let your people know that, but it’s good ‘cause your ex can’t get in touch with you. You got lotsa minutes, 'cause you're on my plan, and I play games on my phone which uses a lot. I also listen to audiobooks. You want a good book, just ask and I'll share my favorites."
This spate of information was a lot to take in. Manda blinked, and asked the first question that popped into her head. "Um, what's your ringtone if I call you?"
He waggled his brows at her. "Well, I couldn't use American Honey, 'cause Pete's already got that one for his woman. So I got 'Honey, Honey' by the Archies. That's a dumb-shit name for a band, but they're from the sixties, before they knew any better. 'An you are my candy girl,'" he sang off-key.
Manda covered her ears, wrinkling her nose. T laughed, a deep, rumbly sound that made a nurse walking by look in, and smile.
"So," he said, "I hear they're lettin' you outta this joint today. You ready?"
Then his brows drew down, and he dipped his chin, gazing at her in worry. "Honey girl? What's wrong? You wanna get out, don't you?"
She was biting her lip. "Yeah," she said. "It's just... I don't know where to go. My mom lives in Boise, so I’ll need a bus ticket to get there. Only I need a ride to the bus station… wherever that is."
He gave her a long look. "You wanna get there? I'm seein' a lack of happy there in your face."
She shook her head slowly. "No. My mom and I... she'll be the one lacking the happy, if I show up and ask to move in with her. She'd rather be alone with her cigarettes and her TV."
The fuck? A woman had this sweet thing for a daughter, and she didn't want her around? Hell, he was thirty years old, and his mom still wanted him home once a month for an overnighter. He made sure he got there too, 'cause Rosalie Turner was a great mom. She loved showing him off to all her friends. They always had supper out, his treat, then went to Bingo or some shit like that, and then home to watch TV before bed.
"Well, ain't that a stinker," he said. "So then, it's all settled."
"Um... what's all settled?"
He flung out one arm toward the windows, outside of which weak sunlight filtered through the clouds, and where he could see the prairies to the west . "You're comin' with me, o' course."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
* * *
Manda looked at T-Bear like he'd just offered her a sweet car to go with the new phone, and she'd realized he was not generous, but nuts.
"That's really nice, but I can't move in with you. People don't... I can't do that. We hardly know each other."
He grinned, 'cause he totally had this covered. "Ain't just me. You’re comin' to the Flyers’ clubhouse . It's the safest place in this whole valley. Ain't nobody gettin' in there after you."
Her eyes got big, and the color left her cheeks. "Wha... who would want to come after me? Not Rezan."
Aw shit, now he was scaring her.
T lowered one hip to the side of her narrow bed, and placed a big hand on her knee, 'cause he had to get this through her head. "Babe. Sorry, but you gotta be smart. Yeah, Faro. And you can't hide your pretty head and think no one can see the rest of you. If you're out in public around here, he’ll find you."
She bit her lip. "Are you sure? I guess I was hoping Rezan wouldn’t want anything to do with me, not after all the trouble I—we caused at the Pine Cabins.That maybe he wishes he never has to see me again."
"Uh, no," T corrected, surprised and dismayed by her lack of savvy. "Manda, the dude is tryin' to set up a stable of girls out there."
She looked like she wanted to be sick, her face going pale, her eyes full of tears. "You’re right. I’m being stupid, thinking he’s done with me. He… he told me that Tim—my ex—owes him money.So Tim basically delivered me to… you know. To start up Rezan’s stable of girls."
Fury swelled inside him. "He told you that? What a pair of useless fuckwads—both of ‘em. But listen, babe. You're not Faro’s first victim, and you're not the worst. The last gal who tried to get clear of him? He messed her up bad. So bad she ain't near as pretty as she used to be, from what I heard."
Her face paled even more, and her leg trembled under his hand. Fuck, she was shivering despite the warmth of the room. "Wh-what?" she whispered. "He scarred her?" She put a hand to her face, as if she could protect herself.
"Yeah," he said. "Sorry to scare you, but he did. And, there is no way we're lettin' him near you, or leavin' him loose to prey on other women. But that's for later. Now, you'll come to the clubhouse . Rocker says you can have his room there , it's right next to mine. Got your own bathroom, and the kitchen's right across the hall, so you can even get started on them cookies for me whenever you feel up to it."
Manda clutched the blankets to her throat. "Move right into your biker clubhouse?" She shook her head. "Oh, T... your friends can't want me there."
He stroked her leg through the blankets, and winked. "Now that just ain't true. We voted on it, and you're in. And I'll be close. Me and my bro Moke'll be there every night, so you won't be alone, 'cept you'll have privacy when you want it."
"Really?" she eyed him with uncertainty, but to T, that looked like hope in her big brown eyes.
"Really truly. And I gotta tell you, the old ladies of the club? You ain't gonna find a nicer bunch of gals. You'll be fine, you'll see."
She swallowed. "But what
about the.. the guys?"
"What about 'em?"
She looked scared, like now she was even afraid of him, which was nuts. "Well... uh, when that police detective was here, he said that the Flyers are dangerous to know. And that when you—when they get mad, people d-disappear. So I don't really know if I want to stay in their clubhouse."
T-Bear took a breath and let it out, willing the fire in his middle to dissipate, so he could speak calmly. "He said that, did he? Well, that's..." That was all kinds of fucked, was what it was. But then Rocker hadn't left behind all friends on the Spokane force when he handed in his badge.
T raked his hair back from his face and started over, feeling his way along.
The truth was, other than customers at JJ's Auto, he was not used to dealing with gals like Manda. Most of the women he knew were either strippers, old ladies, or wild party girls who liked to hang around bikers. He guessed Pete, Rocker and even Stick had to have convos like this with their women when they were easing them into the life, but he wasn't near the talker any of them were.
"Look," he said, keeping his voice real quiet, 'cause he did not want anyone but her to hear his words. "That detective, his job is to keep the people of Spokane safe, right? To find thieves, murderers, rapists and all the rest—people like Faro, and get 'em off the streets. You with me so far?"
She nodded, her big brown eyes locked with his.
"Yeah, so he does his best at that. An' he's got a bunch of uniform cops backing him up, and they're out there doing their best too. At least most of 'em are. There’s a few bad cops, just like there's bad citizens. Anyways, these guys arrest a shitload of perps every day. They bring 'em in, they put 'em in jail, they slam the doors."
She nodded again.
"But then," T said, "these perps get 'due process'. They get a lawyer, they get a trial, they get all their civil rights and shit. And most of the time they get convicted, and sentenced—maybe to prison, maybe to jail, maybe to a treatment program for whatever their obsession is. But then you know what happens? The jails are full, the prisons are full, the treatment centers and programs are overloaded, or some jury buys the story that this fuck-head perp had a mean daddy, so none of the shit he does is his fault. He—or she—winds up right back out on the streets. Not 'cause the law ain't doin' its job, but because they are overworked, overloaded , and under-funded."
She nodded again, looking more thoughtful now.
"So say I'm Joe Home-owner down the street," T said. "I'm nervous, 'cause I know there's perps loose out there, and I got a wife and kids to keep safe. So I buy a gun, and I keep it loaded and somebody tries to break into my house—I'm gonna protect myself. Right?"
She nodded more firmly this time. Good, at least she wasn't one of them pacifists that thought guns were evil, instead of tools that sometimes got into the wrong hands.
"Right," he agreed. "'Cause I got the right to protect my home, and my family. And that, right there, is what we're about, the Flyers. We got families, a lot of us got kids. We got businesses, most of us got homes—whether its a trailer or a big old place with land. And here's the thing, honey girl. We're brothers. So anyone messes with one of us, he messes with all of us. We defend our own, and that means we defend each other. And the perps out there on the street? One of them tries something with a Flyer, he gets smacked down. There ain't no due process, there's just consequences. Then the others... they don't try. 'Cause they know what happens if they do."
She frowned at him. "So, you're like vigilantes?"
T shook his head. "No, not if you mean the Old West kind, 'cause those dudes went out and actively hunted outlaws. We live and let live. Right up until someone tries to come after us, or one of our friends. And that's what Rezan Faro did. He came after you, and when Moke and me showed up to help you, he and his sidekick came after us. And when he did that..." he spread his hands.
Her eyes widened. "He messed with all of you."
He nodded slowly, letting her think this over for a moment, before adding, "And that's why we ain't a gang, and why we're nothing like the late, not-so-fuckin'-great Prairie Rattlers. We don't go out looking for trouble. We don't harass innocent folks, or do shake-downs, or any of that bullshit. We don't run drugs, we don't pimp out prostitutes, and we don't do murder for hire. And, yeah, that's all shit the Rattlers were into.'
'The Devil's Flyers? We mind our own business, we ride our bikes, we party, and we look out for each other, and for our friends."
She tipped her head to one side, her silky hair swinging in to curve against her jaw, and brush the tops of her shoulders. Her full lips pursed thoughtfully, and her big, brown eyes searched his. Then a slow, hesitant smile lit her eyes, and quirked up the corners of her mouth.
"Am I… a friend?"
He grinned back at her, and it built until he was chuckling, relief and goodness swelling inside him. "You... yeah. Oh, yeah. You and me are friends. Definitely."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's so funny?'
T couldn't stop chuckling, so he just shook his head at her, and covered her slender, soft hand with his. "Think I'll let you figure it out. Now, you ready to blow this joint?"
She nodded.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "All right then. Let's do it."
Then her eyes went wide, and she put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my God. Wait, wait."
"What?" he asked. Was she feeling bad all of a sudden. Judging from the sick look on her face, something bad was happening.
She looked to him, her eyes dark in her pale face, and her mouth quivered. "I... I can't leave yet. I have to, um, figure out how to pay my bill." She flung out a hand toward the door of her room. "They haven't even asked me about that yet. But they're for sure not going to just let me walk out of here without knowing how I'm going to pay, right?"
"Uh..." T thought fast—or tried to. "Well, here's the thing. You don't owe nothin'...right now."
She stared, her brows drawing together. "What? How can that be?"
He tried desperately not to fidget. "Well, see, we got you set up on a-a installment pay plan."
Her eyes narrowed, and he saw the instant he lost her. He sighed deeply. "Okay, the club has you on a installment pay plan. Your bill here is paid. And you can pay us back as you can. That sound all right?"
She nodded slowly. "Okay... and who do I talk to about doing that?"
T scratched his head vigorously, 'cause he had to do something. "Uh, me. Yeah, you and me will work it. Later. A lot later, when you're feelin' good. Right now, you gotta get yourself there. An' that means you gotta rest, and uh... whatever else the doc told you."
"Oh, my God," she whispered slowly, her eyes getting wider and wider. "You. You paid my bill, didn't you?"
"No," he said, which was the God's honest truth. He intended to... somehow. But he sure hadn't done it yet. Not enough money in his bank account for that, unless he sold his Harley and his truck both. "No, I did not. Now, can we go, or you wanna sit here and jaw all day?"
She moved right quick at that. Although he could see a glint of determination in her jaw that said they were not done discussing the money.
Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWENTY
* * *
Tuesday
Billie Boggs was smiling to herself as she drove her SUV out of the courtyard of the Spokane home and workplace she now shared with Rocker Hayes.
Once a business with attached garage, the brick building had been converted into an apartment, office and parking area for Rocker's Rock Solid Security.
It now also held a space for Billie's own business, Warrior Woman Productions. At present, she only had one client, her college friend Eric and his thriving computer game company. The important thing was, she wasn't just an employee, she was a private contractor. She not only set her own prices and held the copyright for any new characters she created, she also set her own hours.
Which meant, today she left work in the middle of the morning because she wanted to hel
p out a friend. Ten a.m., so the clothing stores were open for the day.
As she headed east into downtown, she pushed the button on her car phone. "Call Lesa."
Her sister answered after a few rings. "Hey, girl, whatcha up to?" Billie could hear the clank of dishes in the background, and music, which meant Lesa was near the kitchen at The Hangar. The place didn't open until eleven, but there was always plenty to do to get ready for an afternoon and evening of customers.
"Did you talk to T?" Billie asked, pulling to a stop at a red light.
"No. Oh, heck, I see I missed a call from him. Is this about his mysterious date Friday night? Pete won't tell me anything, except T's date turned out to be trouble, and she's in the hospital." Lesa's pout was audible in her normally cheery voice.
"Well, I got the skivvy straight from T-Bear himself," Billie said gleefully. "Listen to this." She filled Lesa in on the whole disastrous string of events stemming from T's first meeting with his date. "And get this—he calls her his honey girl."
"Holy shooters," Lesa breathed. "The big bear thinks he's found his honey."
"That's what it sounds like to me." Billie accelerated through the intersection, and pulled into the right lane that would take her into the heart of downtown Spokane. "So anyway, her slimy ex took off with all her stuff—which I can't even imagine. I mean, you and me didn't have much, but to be left with nothing? Yikes."
"Oh, God. She must feel like the survivor of a-a fire or a flood," Lesa said. "Of course, she is a survivor. Uh, only I hope not of rape...?"
"No. I'm sure T would have said. I think they just roughed her up."
"Well, that's awful enough. We should get her some new things. Where is she?"
Billie grinned. "I'm already on it. Since I work flex hours now, I'm going shopping. Thought I'd start at the sale racks at Macy's, get her some yoga pants, a couple of tops, and a sweater. T gave me her shoe size, so I can get her some slip-ons or something."