by Siobhan Muir
He’s gone.
Relief made my knees turn to mush and I damn near crumpled onto the lawn chair I’d set under the Ponderosa pine outside my cabin. He’s gone, and I’m home. It seemed like an odd thing to say given the short time I’d been with the Concrete Angels, but each and every member had stood up with me and faced down Agent Hopkins and his frustrated fury. I had a family, now, though a very unconventional one.
I’d wanted retribution on Hopkins for two years now, ever since he raped me and I’d left the FBI where no one had my back. This wasn’t what I’d had in mind, but might have actually been a better result. Rape was about power, and Hopkins had been impotent here in the compound. The search warrant had yielded nothing—no guns, no drugs—and none of us were doing anything illegal. Hell, the Friar had been tinkering with his bike and Scott had been doing laundry. Might be weird for a guy to do laundry, but still legal in the state of Colorado.
Agent Hopkins had been powerless and it felt fuckin’ awesome to watch him twitch over it.
Buh-bye, Faleena.
I scrubbed my face and let out my breath in a long sigh.
“How are you holding up, Oriana?”
I glanced up to find Michael standing in front of me, his expression filled with concern as he looked me over. I’d holstered the Glock behind my back again, but my hand still shook.
“Exhausted, but good, I think.” I tried to give him a smile.
“You stood your ground well, I thought.” His smile was far better than mine.
“It helped that the rest of you stood with me.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, we don’t leave anyone hanging out to dry. That asshole was threatening you and that wasn’t cool.”
I nodded. “Y’all are the first people to stand up for me. It was a welcome surprise.”
Michael scowled. “That’s wrong on so many levels. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck is wrong with humans.”
It was a strange thing to say, but I couldn’t argue with him. Humans could be the most messed up thing on the planet. I wrapped my arms around myself and sighed, hoping the shivering would stop soon. I knew it was in reaction to the adrenaline surge, but it made me feel like a junkie coming off a binge.
“I don’t think you’ll see Agent Hopkins again.”
That was another odd thing to say and I shot him a skeptical look. “How do you figure?”
He shrugged. “Just a feeling I have.”
Scott returned with a new steaming cup of tea and Michael rose, clapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but they shared a significant look I couldn’t read before Scott sat down on the lawn chair next to me.
“How are you feeling?” He handed me the mug of tea.
I bit my lip. “I think I’m okay. Really frickin’ tired, but good.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, a smile curling his lips. “Yeah, you look good. Better than good. Sexy.”
I laughed and patted his thigh with one hand. “Oh good. I was worried I hadn’t gotten my sexy on for the FBI.”
“Oh, you did, but they were too worried about finding shit that wasn’t here. They couldn’t see the sexy.” He bumped my shoulder with his hard bicep. “But I could. You know we have your back now, right? You’re one of the Concrete Angels and we look after our own.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know, honorary member.”
“No, full member, with benefits and backup and protection.” His expression had shifted to earnestness. “The shit you did, the strength you showed. That made you a full member. It’s what we’re lookin’ for in the Scooters. They’re trying to get the strength and conviction you have. You’re there, darlin’.”
“You really still want me to stay? Even with my panic attacks and my nightmares, and my past?” I searched his gaze, needing that one last bit of reassurance.
He cupped my cheek with one big hand. “I want you to stay, Oriana. One night, a week, or hell, stay forever. Wear my patch, be my woman, let me be your man, forever. We’re good together. Whadaya say?”
I thought about the times I’d spent with him and this crew of unruly and unusual bikers. Were they white hats? Definitely not, but they weren’t completely black hats, either, and I’d long ago thrown off my halo. But these men and woman who made up the Concrete Angels had more heart than most ordinary people, and they stood behind each other like family, a family who cared. I’d done much worse with ordinary folks.
“You’ll wear my patch?” I raised an eyebrow. “For real, no foolin’?”
“Hell yeah. No foolin’.”
I tilted my head and squinted my eyes. “You know, I think I’d like to see that on you. And I’d like my own jacket to wear.” I sipped my tea as I waited for his reaction.
He paused, his eyebrows going up. “You want a jacket?”
“Well, yeah. If I’m a full member of the Concrete Angels, I deserve a jacket to wear when we ride around on your bike.”
“You said you don’t know how to ride a bike.”
“You said you’d teach me.”
A slow grin curled his lips. “Hell yeah, I’ll teach you. Anytime you want.”
I nodded. “I still want my own car, which we left at my apartment when we got my stuff.”
He shot me a smug smile. “No, we didn’t.”
“What?”
“Schnoz took Dollhouse down to your apartment the next morning and drove it back up here. It’s parked behind the barn.” He dug around in his front pocket and pulled out my car keys. “I think Dollhouse even filled the tank and the Friar changed the oil. You should have that checked more regularly. It was a quart low.”
I snorted. Car maintenance hadn’t been high on my list of priorities after the rape, although given my need for independence, it should’ve been higher.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, anytime.” He handed me the keys and wrapped his warm hand around mine. “How about we get something to eat? I think Grub is making Chicken Parmesan tonight.”
I pocketed the keys and grabbed my teacup. “Yeah, I’m kinda starving. But that’s not all I’m hungry for.” I licked my lips and winked at him.
The surprise on his face was downright comical, but the cocky smirk soon took over. “Hell yeah. I’m totally up for dessert after.”
****
Oriana
I’d just finished up the last of my modifications on Loki’s financial records a little over a week later when someone knocked on my office door. Since I’d become a full-fledged member of the Concrete Angels, Loki decided I needed to have an office in the clubhouse where I could be close to the leadership when it came to money matters. And they needed the guest cabin back. Since their financial records and accounts were a ridiculous jumbled mess, I’d have at least several months’ worth of work just to get untangled and organized. Gotta love job security.
“Yeah, come in.” I swiveled around in my chair to see Michael leaning in the door. “What’s up, Michael? Come in.”
“Are you at a breaking point?”
I snorted. “If I wasn’t getting paid to look at this mess you call your financial accounts, I might be. Why?”
He raised his eyebrows before he cracked a grin. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant, but that’s good to hear. No, I meant can you come out to the lair? There’s something you need to see.”
“Okay.” My gut sank. What had Michael so serious? This couldn’t be good. I rose and followed him out to Neo’s lair. They’d thoughtfully left the door wide open for me. I’d gotten better at being in dark spaces, but I still didn’t like his blackout room.
Loki, Neo, Michael, Dollhouse and the woman named Viper were all there, looking at some of the screens, but they all turned around when I stepped in the door. I wondered where Scott was, but the greetings I got from the others made me feel welcome.
“Hey, Numbers, thanks for joining us.” Neo had become a good friend, aware of my foibles and impressed with my computer wizardry, at least with respect to financial records.
; “Hey. What’s going on? Michael said there was something I needed to see?” I couldn’t call him Schnoz no matter how long I’d known him. He’d always be Michael to me.
“Yeah, so Viper and I have been working on where those cameras and mikes in your apartment were transmitting to, and there’s good news and bad news.”
My shoulders tightened up and my gut sank. Oh this should be awesome. Nothing like having my daily routine broadcast to a fraternity of assholes in the FBI or any other agency in the federal government. Although I bet the NSA already knows all about me.
“Let’s start with the bad news.”
Neo nodded. “Actually, the news is both good and bad. These feeds were being sent directly to Dirk Hopkins’s home computer. I traced his IP address. He was keeping an eye on you for some reason, not the whole FBI. In fact, I’m pretty sure the FBI didn’t know he was monitoring you at all.”
Neo was right, that was both good and bad news. Then he threw me for a loop.
“How long have you been friends with Melrose?”
I blinked and thought back. “Uh, I don’t know. About fifteen months, I guess. Why?”
“Because that’s when the feeds started.” Viper exchanged a look with Dollhouse. “We think she brought the cameras and mikes in. Or she let someone in who could set them up.”
My stomach cramped and bile worked its way up my throat. Holy shit, that bitch has been playing me for more than a year! I pressed a hand to my belly and swallowed hard. How could she do that to me? She’d been my first friend after the assault, but it turned out she wasn’t a friend at all. She’d set me up from the beginning.
“That weaselly, scum-sucking bitch.” My voice was rough enough to grind up gravel. “Was she undercover FBI too?”
Neo shook his head. “We don’t think so. We can’t find her in any of their records. Maybe she really just was Roy’s girlfriend, but I’ll keep looking. Something about her seems hinky.”
Hinky was an understatement. And the Concrete Angels wondered why I had trust issues.
“But watching you wasn’t the only thing agent Dirk Hopkins was up to.” Viper clicked a few keys on another keyboard and a new set of images came up on another screen. “Apparently, Dirk could take the nickname John Hopkins because he frequents several seedy brothels in Denver and Littleton. He seems to like it rough enough that he’s been kicked out of a few for beating the shit out of and damn near raping the prostitutes there. Someone ought to cut his dick off.”
“You won’t get any argument from me.” I scowled at the images of the bruised and broken sex workers when I noticed a creepy detail. “Hey wait. Am I imagining things, or do all these women kinda look like me?”
No one said anything and I turned my head to look at them. Michael and Loki held grim expressions while Neo’s face was carefully blank, and Viper’s had settled into fury. Dollhouse met my gaze and nodded, her eyes sad.
“Yeah, we noticed that. We think he’s become a serial rapist and he’s fixated on you.”
“Holy fuck.” My stomach sank to somewhere around my ankles. “Please say someone has caught him and they know about this.”
“Not yet, but they will.” Neo’s voice held tight anger. “I’m gonna release all this evidence to the news outlet anonymously. Someone’s gonna get the scoop of a lifetime and Hopkins is going down.”
“What about Roy? He was undercover FBI and Hopkins’s friend.” I shook off the unease of Dirk’s unhealthy obsession with me.
“Oh, Roy is missing.” Loki wore a sad expression until I met his gaze. Only smug satisfaction looked back at me. “He slipped out during the raid, but we caught up with him when he went camping.”
“What did y’all do to him?” I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know.
Loki shrugged. “I don’t exactly know. He was still alive when we left him.” But from how he said it, I didn’t think Roy remained among the living. “You know there have been a lot of forest fires all over Colorado this year. Dangerous to go out camping now.”
Oh, shit.
Loki shrugged with a half-smile. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s a big boy, after all, and an FBI agent. He can take care of himself.”
Yeah, I’d believe that when I managed to meet an Archangel face-to-face. Michael shifted and met my gaze with an odd look. It seemed to be a mixture of amusement and surprise. What’s that about?
“Hey laddies, something is happening. If yer done ogling the data, maybe you should come out here.” Attila waved at us to come out into the main room of the clubhouse.
“What’s going on?” Dollhouse slipped past me before I could turn. “Are we getting visited by the FBI again?”
“Kinda.”
That was Scott’s voice. I hadn’t seen him since this morning after we showered. He’d said he had a couple of errands to run down in Denver, and while that wasn’t unusual, I really missed him. I stepped out of Neo’s lair and stopped.
The entire host of the Concrete Angels gathered in the main room of the clubhouse with Scott standing at the center. He had a wide grin on his face and held two large pieces of leather clothing. Oh, glory, this isn’t going to be a BDSM sort of thing, is it?
“Hey, Numbers. You wanna come over here? I got somethin’ for you.”
Did I want to know what it was? I’d never seen Scott look so predatory or sexy before, and that’s saying a lot considering he was a cocky biker through and through. I shot a look around my new family, trying to gauge what was happening from their expressions. Some wore anticipation. Others settled into mild interest. Dollhouse looked excited while Karma wore satisfaction. Loki kept his enigmatic half-smile, but Michael appeared hopeful.
So there’s anticipation of hopeful satisfaction with a dash of excitement. Great.
I smoothed my hands down on my jean-clad thighs and went to meet Scott. I stopped in front of him and his eyes filled up with love. It warmed my chest but I resisted the urge to move my hands. Be cool, Hunter.
“I’m not too good with words and half the time I say the wrong shit, but Schnoz says that’s part of my charm.” He shot me a self-deprecating smile as the audience laughed. “So rather than get all wordy, I’m just gonna do this.”
I’d held it together so far but I totally lost my composure when he dropped to one knee.
“Ms. Oriana Hunter, aka Numbers, will you be my old lady and wear my patch?”
The room collectively held its breath as he held up one piece of the leather clothing. I realized it was a leather jacket, smaller than most, with the gargoyle on the flaming bike emblem of the Concrete Angels on the back. At the top it read “NUMBERS” and the rocker below read “Property of Scott Free.”
I reached out to take the jacket, admiring its style and color. Black, silky-smooth leather with zippered pockets and cut in a feminine style. I met his gaze as I swung it around my shoulders and shoved my arms through the sleeves. It fit perfectly.
I debated making him wait for my answer, teasing my big, bad, cocky biker. But in the end, I decided he didn’t deserve the fear of my rejection.
“Yeah, Scott. I’ll be your lady, old or otherwise, and I’ll wear your patch.”
My heart blazed as bright as his smile and excitement made it pound as he held up the other piece of leather. “Help me put this on?”
He handed me his cut. I recognized it, but the emblems had changed. The top still read “SCOTT FREE” but the rocker now read “Property of Numbers.” It was a silly change, but it made me feel like I finally belonged, even more so than the rocker on my own jacket. I held it up and he slipped his hands through the arm holes, settling it on his broad shoulders.
“Damn, you look sexy.”
I had no idea where the words came from, but the whole room exploded in cheers and whoops of joy. Even Loki wore an unusually contented smile. Say what you like about Loki, but I think he’s a born romantic. Scott turned around and wrapped me in his warm arms. I leaned into him with a happy sigh.
“I love you
, Scott.”
He pushed me back and met my gaze, searching my eyes for something. “Yeah? Well that’s damn good news because I love you, too, Oriana. Whadaya say you stay with me forever?”
“You sure that’s what you want?”
“Hell yeah. I want to be the one you trust to have your back and defend you against assailants when you’re most vulnerable.”
He remembered what I’d needed the night after I had my first panic attack. Tears of joy started in my eyes and I gave him a tremulous smile as I wiped my face.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
He whooped and threw himself into my arms, which was a pretty good feat considering he was bigger than me. But as I wrapped around his broad back, his head on my chest, I thanked my lucky stars I’d had the opportunity for my forever cocky biker encounter.
Epilogue
Karma
“Are there more troubles on the way for the local FBI office? Special Agent Dirk Hopkins has been indicted on multiple counts of embezzlement of federal funds for private use, illegal and unauthorized wire taps on a former employee, and multiple sexual harassment charges from female coworkers. Hopkins allegedly used the federal funds to pay prostitutes to look like his former employee, a woman who accused him of rape two years ago. While the employee chose to leave the FBI when her accusations were swept under the rug, Hopkins remained in a position of authority over several other women employees and allegedly made unwanted advances toward them. The FBI has yet to comment about the allegations against Hopkins, but they did have this to say.”
“All accusations are being fully investigated at this time.”
“It’s about time!” Dollhouse yelled at the TV as she looked up from our pool game. “Those jackasses should’ve hung him by his balls when Numbers first said something.”
I was inclined to agree. Numbers definitely had to put up with a lot of shit because of Special Agent Dirk Hopkins and his asshole buddy, Arnold Eisenburg AKA Roy.
“Your shot, Karma.”