#Rev (GearShark #2)

by Cambria Hebert

“What the shit is going on down here?” I snapped, jogging down the stairs. It caused a little tweak of pain in my ribs, and it only made me more irritated.

  I was pretty much healed from the number Con and the three stooges pulled on me, but my ribs were still healing and the bruising around them was slightly yellow.

  “Con’s pissed off some biker,” said one of the guys standing in the entryway.

  I glanced at Conner, who had an angry, flushed look. “I told you I have no clue who that guy is!”

  “What guy?” I said as the doorbell rang again about fifty times in three seconds.

  That was some talent right there, making that much racket with a damn doorbell.

  I stalked over to the front door and yanked it open.

  Sure enough, there was a biker standing on the other side with his finger pressed to the button. He was close to six feet tall, with a stocky, wide build and a bit of a beer gut. His full beard (which was nowhere near as sexy as Drew’s scruff) was peppered with gray to match the dark hair on his head. He was wearing a pair of jeans and leather chaps. To match, he had a black leather jacket and a T-shirt beneath it with the Harley Davidson symbol on it.

  “Who the hell are you?” I asked.

  “Where is he?” the biker demanded, trying to see around me. I was bigger than him, so he wasn’t having much success. “That little weasel hiding behind you?”

  “Which weasel is that?”

  “The one who promised me a Harley Davidson Seventy-Two.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “You mind explaining a little bit more?”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he growled, trying to look behind me again.

  I did him a favor and shoved the door open wide.

  All the brothers standing around in the entryway stared out at him.

  “What the hell, Con?” one of them whispered loudly.

  “He in there!” biker man demanded and started forward.

  “Whoa,” I said and put a hand out to stop him. “Sorry, this is private property, members of the Alpha Omega fraternity only.”

  “Says who?” the biker challenged.

  I straightened and dropped my arms at my sides. “Says me,” I growled. “I’m the president of this house, and if you got a problem with one of my guys, talk to me.”

  “You rich types are all the same,” he muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I shoulda known better than to do business with some well-to-do college boy. But these bikes were designed for the moneyed, so I figured that’s where I’d get one.”

  I stared at him blankly.

  He sighed. “That kid in there, Conner something-or-other, owes me a bike.”

  “I don’t know him!” Conner yelled from behind the door.

  I reached around and pulled him out of the space and face to face with the angry man. “This kid?” I asked.

  The man pulled out a piece of folded paper from inside his leather jacket, smoothed it out, and handed it to me.

  I laughed out loud.

  “Something funny?” the guy griped.

  It was a listing on BikeList.com, which was sort of like the eBay of motorcycles, dirt bikes, four-wheelers, and jet-skis. It was well known for buying and selling a lot of really good and sometimes rare small engines. Including Harley’s.

  I took the paper and held it so I could read it, and I felt Conner looking it over as well. The listing was for a Harley Davidson Seventy-Two. The description listed the bike as: Mint condition Harley with a fully rehabbed body. This bike is especially sought after because it doesn’t represent any specific body type, but instead represents an entire era. It went on to boast the extras and features, which were frankly impressive.

  There were even two pictures of the bike, and right there in the background was the Omega house.

  The price was listed, which I found to be an impressive number, and then the deposit, which was marked paid in full, was subtracted from that total.

  Five hundred bucks.

  The seller listed was Conner.

  Stapled to the front listing was a printout of what looked like message or email traffic between this biker (whose username was Hog_Heaven) and Conner (whose username was plain Conner). I skimmed quickly and caught the gist of what was happening.

  Conner listed some fancy bike on Bikelist.com, got a bite from an interested buyer, strung him along, and then charged a five hundred-dollar deposit (nonrefundable) to hold the bike until this man could come test drive it and hand over a full check.

  Only there was no bike.

  So when this guy showed up this morning, expecting to drive home a new piece of hog heaven (hey, his words, not mine) and got the door slammed in his face, he was understandably stubby.

  I glanced at Conner. “Why would you sell this nice man a motorcycle you don’t have?”

  Conner flushed. “I didn’t!”

  “It’s all right here. You can’t deny physical proof.”

  Some of the guys behind me stepped up, and I passed the listing back. We were all brothers after all. It was their business.

  “He’s lying!” Con shouted.

  “You little bastard!” Bearded man lunged at him.

  Since I was still half asleep, my reflexes weren’t that great, and I wasn’t fast enough to pull him out of the way.

  Oh darn.

  Con was snatched up by the front of his white T-shirt and literally dragged out onto the porch.

  “Where’s my bike?” the man growled.

  “Get off me!” Con demanded, struggling to get away. “I told you I don’t have a bike!”

  “I gave you five hundred dollars for a deposit on a bike you don’t have?”

  “No—” Con began, and the man shook him.

  “You little thief. I want my money back.”

  “I didn’t take your money!” Con looked at me, a plea in his eyes. “I didn’t!”

  I smiled at him. “Just give him the cash back.”

  “I don’t have it!” Con wailed. “I barely have twenty bucks.”

  “Prove it,” the biker growled and shoved Conner back. He slammed into the door casing and bent forward.

  “Just show him your bank balance,” one of the bothers suggested.

  Conner’s face cleared, and he pulled out his phone. We all watched as his fingers flew over the numbers.

  I knew the second he was in his account and the news would not be helpful because his face went stark white. “That’s not right,” he muttered.

  Biker dude snatched the phone and glanced down at the screen.

  “Argh!” he yelled and threw the phone, then a punch.

  Con’s head snapped back, and I admit I enjoyed his pain.

  When the biker went back for another, I stepped between them. Letting Con take one hit was fine, but any more than that and I’d look like a pansy prez.

  “Look. This kid doesn’t have a motorcycle. He was clearly trying to scam decent people like yourself out of their hard-earned money.”

  I glanced over at Conner. “That’s a really low thing to do, man.”

  “I didn’t do it!” he roared.

  “It’s all right here,” one of the frat members said, passing the papers back up front.

  “Sir, on behalf of Alpha Omega, I’d like to sincerely apologize for the cruel and thoughtless actions of this boy.” I held out my hand as I spoke.

  He stared at my hand like I had two heads. “I’m calling the cops.”

  “We’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t.” I inclined my head. Secretly, I was having a dance party in my mind.

  Karma. That’s what this was.

  “I’ll give you the money back!” Con said, desperate.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “So you admit to conning this man and taking his money?”

  “No!” Con faltered. “Yes… Fuck!”

  I glanced behind me at all the brothers. They all wore grim and annoyed looks. I made eye contact with them all. Each of th
em nodded slow.

  I turned back. “Conner, you know as a brother of this house, your actions reflect on us all. You’ve disgraced the fraternity.”

  “I didn’t do it,” he growled.

  “That’s not what you just said,” the guy behind me said.

  “You did this.” His eyes lit up and malice dripped from their depths.

  I drew back. “What?”

  “You somehow set me up, all to get revenge.”

  I plastered an innocent, shocked expression on my face. “Revenge for what?”

  Our eyes connected. We had a silent conversation no one else heard.

  You did this as payback. Conner’s eyes accused.

  Karma’s a bitch. My eyes laughed at him.

  “For what I—” He stopped abruptly.

  I smothered a smile as satisfaction filled me. He almost ratted himself out.

  What a loser.

  I sighed sadly. “Conner, I really don’t know why you think I would do something like this to my own brother. I take my role as president very seriously, and I would never do anything that would reflect poorly on this frat. I can promise you I had nothing to do with this.” My words rang out with truth because the truth was what I told.

  Although I did wish I was responsible.

  Conner’s chest was heaving. I pushed the listing into it. “Pay the man back and try to convince him you being a dick shouldn’t punish us all.”

  I started back in the house.

  “Wait!” Con yelled out in fear.

  I glanced over my shoulder and pinned him with a knowing stare. “Surely you don’t need my protection. It’s only one man. It isn’t as if you’re being ambushed.”

  His eyes widened.

  I stepped in the house and shut the door behind me, leaving Con to clean up his own damn mess.

  “First, he tries to overthrow you as president, and now, he blames you for something as childish as this?” one of the house members said in wonderment. “What the hell is that guy’s problem?”

  “I don’t know, guys. I really don’t.” I spoke like I felt regret about Con’s and my relationship.

  “You did the right thing,” Jack said, slapping a hand on my shoulder.

  “Thanks.” I looked up to address everyone. “All right, assholes. I’ve got a charity game to get ready for. I’ll see all of you at the field in just a few hours.”

  I hid my smile all the way up the stairs, but when Conner’s shriek carried through the door and to my ears, I just couldn’t suppress my emotions.

  I grinned.

  The door was unlocked when I put my hand on the doorknob to my room. I pushed it open and went in. Drew was going to love hearing what kind of trouble Con had gotten himself into.

  But he was gone.

  In his place on the bed was a note.

  Sneaking out while everyone is occupied. See you at home.

  PS: Couldn’t find my pants so I took yours.

  PSS: I miss you like a fry misses ketchup

  —F

  I read his scrawled words three times just because he wrote them. After I tucked the note into my nightstand, I quickly got ready.

  Drew

  Could you hear that sound?

  It was me laughing.

  I might not have used my fists, but I could still hit.

  Man, I would have loved to see Con’s face when the biker showed up asking for him. I also would have loved to see him take a couple punches, because there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to get at least a couple.

  Asshole.

  After the commotion started downstairs, I snuck down an old service stairway (thank God this was an old house) and crept to the back door. No one saw because they were all too busy being secretly amused Con was such a douche.

  I stood there and listened as long as I dared. I mean, it was funny as shit. That kid was probably having diarrhea in his PJs. I knew he’d probably try and blame T, but it wouldn’t go that far because he’d have to rat himself out in order to explain.

  He was too interested in self-preservation for that.

  Besides, Trent had no idea I was the one who totally set up Con. He had nothing to do with it, so when he said so, everyone would believe him. The family was very adamant at the family meeting I not burst in the house and throw some punches.

  No one said I couldn’t put my computer skills to good use.

  It was earlier than I liked, so I drove to a Dunkin Donuts and ordered a coffee, and then on impulse, I grabbed a bunch of donuts and a second cup of coffee. Today was game day. I knew everyone at home (well, the guys) would be gearing up for some fun, and I was anxious to get home and join them. Hopefully, T would come over so we could all go to the field together—you know, as a united front.

  Up until this point, the guys that attacked Trent thought he was keeping their identities to himself. Today, they were going to learn otherwise. They would know he told, and they would also know this little charity game wasn’t only benefiting the organization the frat voted on, but also our need to exact some physical pain.

  I didn’t drive home, though. Not right away. Instead, I pointed the Fastback in the opposite direction and drove to a place I’d only been once before. The private airport looked the same as the last time I was here, with the large fence all around and the top-notch security on the gate.

  Since I didn’t know the code and I didn’t see a buzzer, I pulled up close to the entrance and laid on the horn.

  It was so loud it annoyed even me.

  As I held my palm over the noisemaker, I consoled myself with some coffee.

  A minute later, there was some movement across the way, and I eased off the horn to flicker my headlights.

  A second later, the gate opened, and I nosed the Mustang through and sped over to the hangar where Arrow lived.

  The wide door on the front was still closed, but there was a small man-sized door on the side, and he was standing in it, watching me. All he was wearing was a pair of loose sweats, his chest bare. He was definitely tall and lanky, but maybe not quite as skinny as I originally thought. He did have some definition to his chest and arms, but his abs were flat.

  Arrow also had quite a few tattoos; almost his entire left shoulder was covered in them, and he had some on his chest as well. I wasn’t about to stare long enough to know what kind of designs they were. He might think I was checking him out.

  I carried over the extra coffee I’d gotten and held it out between us.

  He glanced at it, then at me before taking it.

  “You drink coffee?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t everybody?”

  I wondered what his conversation with Lorhaven was like after our talk in the garage at home. I wondered if Lorhaven told him about T and me. I wondered what Arrow thought about us. I wondered if he was embarrassed because he had a crush on me.

  Oddly, I wasn’t embarrassed by it. It was kind of flattering, I guess. Mostly, it kind of endeared the kid to me. (Yes, I know I’m supposed to think of him as a man, but it’s hard, okay? He’s kind of like the baby brother I never had.)

  I felt this odd sort of kinship with him even though we were nothing alike. Well, at least I’d thought that before.

  Now?

  Now I was starting to think maybe he and I had more in common than either of us realized.

  “Thanks,” Arrow said, gesturing to the Styrofoam cup, and took a sip. Then he gestured with his head to the door, and I followed him inside.

  It smelled like oil and car parts. You know, that sort of metal tinge to the air.

  “What are you doing here?” Arrow asked, blunt, as I glanced around, looking into the back of the hangar toward the bed he slept in. Clearly, I’d gotten him up. The sheets were still tangled and there was an indent in the pillow.

  “Going to a football game this morning. Thought you might wanna come.”

  “Why?” His eyes were suspicious.

  I had a feeling Arrow was suspicious of people a lot, and it was b
ecause he’d been conditioned that way. I remembered Lorhaven saying something to the tune of Arrow always wanting to see the best in people, and I wondered how he balanced that with the wariness.

  I shrugged. “Might be fun.”

  “Trent gonna be there?” he asked.

  I nodded. “My whole family will be there. You’ll like them.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the type to judge people before you meet them.”

  “I meant I don’t think they’ll like me.”

  I lowered my coffee away from my face. “They like me. They like Trent. They’re totally cool with our relationship.”

  “So you are in a relationship with him.”

  I nodded. “Your brother told you, didn’t he?”

  “I thought he was making it up. Trying to keep me away from you.”

  I laughed. “He would do something like that.”

  Arrow grinned.

  “Your brother is a lot of things, but I don’t think he would intentionally hurt you. He wants you to be happy.”

  “I know.” He looked away, giving all his attention to the cup.

  “My father kicked me out, too,” I said softly.

  His head snapped up.

  “That’s why you live here, right? You told your father you’re gay, and he kicked you out.”

  “He hates me now.”

  My stomach clenched. I knew exactly how that felt. I knew exactly what it was like to be suddenly unloved by people who said—no, who were supposed to—they always would.

  It sucked real bad. But something whispered in my ear that as rough as I had it, Arrow had it ten times worse.

  I at least had a family who loved me, a whole house full of people who cared. And I had Trent. With him, I would never, ever have to feel alone.

  Who did Arrow have besides Lorhaven?

  “I don’t think he hates you. I just think he doesn’t understand, and it scares him.”

  “The result is still the same.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

  Oh yes, Lorhaven was right. This kid was definitely beyond his years.

  “You’re right.” I agreed. “And it doesn’t make it suck any less. But for every person who is narrow-minded, there’s one who isn’t.”

  “Yeah? Where are they?”

  I held out my arms. “Right here.”