Rip's Baby: Hounds of Hades MC

by Nicole Fox

  The man drummed his fingers against the table, watching the whore next to me for a moment. “Look, I don't have time to chit chat about all of this,” he finally said. “But I have something that I need you to do. You know that the Hounds are looking to acquire some sort of ...legitimate side business.”

  “Sure,” I agreed, because it was no secret. I could tell that J.T. was uncomfortable discussing this stuff in front of the whore, though, so I finally rolled my eyes and pushed her away. “Come back in ten minutes,” I told her. I didn't wait to hear a response from her; she'd be back—they always were.

  “I think I've found the perfect front,” J.T. continued. “What do you think about the Hounds acquiring Mick Ford's shop, Greyhound Custom Motorcycles?”

  I frowned, thinking it over. “I don't think Mick would ever give you the place,” I finally said. “I mean, I don't know much about him or his family. I only really have business interactions with him. But I don't think-”

  J.T. waved away my protests. “I'm not talking about taking the business over now or anything like that. Just ...well, Mick is getting up there in years, and surely he doesn't think that his daughter is going to take over the business after him.” J.T. scoffed a little at that.

  I remembered seeing Jessi moving confidently around the shop on several occasions. Sure, she was usually doing things like inventory—something anyone with half a brain could do. But I had seen her painting detailing on a bike once, with practiced precision, and I could see in the way that her eyes stroked my bike each time I came through the shop that she knew what she was looking at and appreciated a good-looking hunk of metal.

  I wondered if it was so unlikely to suspect that Jessi would, in fact, take over the business. But J.T. didn't want to hear that.

  “If we can keep the Hounds in Mick's good books, it's only a matter of time before he starts looking for buyers for the shop. And he'd be much happier selling the place to people he trusts.”

  “Well, I put in the order for your bike already,” I told J.T. “And Mick agreed to all the terms you suggested. I guess we're already kind of in his good books, since we bring him so much business.”

  “We need to do more,” J.T. said. “Mick says he's having some trouble around the shop. His daughter is going back to school or something like that, and he's worried about getting supplies and making deadlines. I volunteered your help.”

  I stared at J.T. for a long moment, wondering if I'd heard correctly. Then I got abruptly to my feet, my chair screeching across the floor. “You what?” I snapped.

  J.T. rolled his eyes. “Don't be so dramatic, Rip,” he chided, as though I were a child. “You like working on bikes, and if we were able to acquire Greyhound, guess who would be fronting the shop? I remember all the work you put into your bike. I remember how excited you were when you were finally finished. Just put that same energy into this project. Just for a month or two, until the man is caught up on all his deadlines.”

  “I was excited about my bike because it was my bike,” I spat. “Man, if I wanted to go into business, don't you think I'd already be doing that? Any shop around the city would hire me, if that was what I wanted, but-”

  “Would they?” J.T. interrupted. He narrowed his eyes at me. “We're a relatively new motorcycle club,” he reminded me. “But all the same, anyone who's involved in the motorcycle business around the city knows who we are, from hobbyists like Mick Ford up to international design gurus like Gary Ellsmith. And that would affect your chances for employment.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You're missing the point,” I told him. “I don't even want to do that. I don't want to work at an autobody shop, or else I'd already be trying to land myself a job. I make quite enough doing various things for the club that I live comfortably and don't need to-”

  “And if you want to continue doing 'various things for the club,'” J.T. told me, “then you're going to help out Mick Ford at his shop until he's caught up on his deadlines.” He stared at me for a long moment. “I'm beginning to question where your loyalties lie, Rip.”

  I scowled at him and got to my feet abruptly. “Don't be an ass,” I told him. “Just because I don't blindly follow you around, begging for scraps from your table, doesn't mean that I have loyalties to anyone except for our club. But I'm not your errand boy, and I'm not-”

  “You're whatever I need you to be,” J.T. told me. “Don't forget that I saved your life when you were caught up in all that shit with the Cadets.” He paused very deliberately. “If you want to go crawling back to Daniel, begging for forgiveness, you know where the door is. But, otherwise, I expect you to report to Mick's shop at 8 am on Monday morning.”

  Even though I was standing and J.T. was still sitting, the power dynamic was obviously tilted in his favor. I hated that he was using everything he had on me like this, but I also knew that if J.T. was pulling out all the stops and bringing up the Cadets, it was because he really, really wanted this. He wasn't that much of an asshole otherwise.

  Slowly, I sat back down, curiosity getting the better of me. “What is it about this shop?” I asked him. “Why is this so important to you?”

  J.T. shrugged nonchalantly, but I could tell from something in his gaze that there was some greater importance to all of this than he was letting on. “Let's just say that the cops are getting a little too ...close lately,” he said. “As I just said, we're a young club, and they're starting to question ...” He sighed. “Well, let's just leave out the details for now. But we need to acquire a legitimate business sooner rather than later, or I'm not sure what will happen to us.” He paused, frowning. “You know that Evans is being tried for all sorts of things, don't you?”

  I grimaced and nodded. Of course we had all heard about the bust that had gone on over at the Angels' clubhouse. It had been pretty ugly, but no one could say that the Angels didn't deserve it. They'd been getting in over their heads for too long now …

  “But they've got bigger fish to fry than us,” I argued. We had some ...shady dealings going on, of course. Money coming in through various schemes and a bit of a corner on the drug industry—especially with the students in the area—but I couldn't see the police coming after us just because …

  “I want to keep us safe,” J.T. said, shrugging again. This time, he was the one to stand up from the table. “Rip, I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I didn't think it was necessary.” He grinned down at me. “Anyway, I would have thought you'd be jumping at the opportunity. I've heard Mick's daughter is very easy on the eyes...”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure she is,” I said. “But she's also the type of girl to expect flowers and fancy restaurants and all those things. I definitely won't be fucking her in a back alley.”

  “So take it as a challenge,” J.T. suggested. “Get your work done and see what you can do.”

  I stared at him, a dozen questions in my head. But J.T. was clearly done with the conversation, and I finally shrugged. “I'll be at the shop on Monday,” I told him, just as the whore was coming back to the table. I narrowed my eyes at my boss. “But this is the last time you're holding that shit with the Cadets over my head.”

  “Agreed,” J.T. said, nodding at me. “You do this for me and get me my bike on time, and I'll consider us even.”

  Chapter Five

  Jessi

  Being a college student was, quite honestly, pretty exhilarating, and most days, I couldn't believe it had taken me so many extra years to get here. That wasn't to say that I wasn't being pushed in my courses, of course. My mechanical design course was particularly challenging. Even though we were only freshmen, we were pushed to understand all sorts of things about how engines and other parts worked. I thought that I would have a leg up since I'd been helping my dad out in the shop for so many years, but it turned out that, when it really came down to it, I didn't really have a clue about the mechanics to a design. I generally had a pretty good gut feeling about how things worked, but …

  I couldn't help feeling
a bit discouraged, by two weeks into the course.

  The one saving grace was that my professor, Gary Ellsmith, was amazing, and he was always around to answer questions that I had about the material or to talk me through things. I didn't know why more people didn't attend his office hours, because man, the guy could work miracles on a design in about ten minutes flat. It was incredible to work with him.

  He smiled at me as I entered his office, quickly finishing up something on his computer as he gestured me towards a seat. I put the Chinese food I had brought down on his desk and began opening containers.

  “God, I'm so glad you brought food,” he told me absently, still clicking away at whatever it was in front of him. I couldn't see, given the way that his computer was angled. “I forgot to have lunch, and I can't believe it's already so late!”

  I grinned a little and held out a fork to him as he finally turned his attention towards me. “Yeah, I figured you probably had lost yourself in work again,” I said. It was a pretty common occurrence, I was starting to gather, but I supposed that was the kind of dedication that you needed to have to be a relevant name in the field. And Gary Ellsmith was definitely a relevant name in the field. He had been to countless seminars the previous year, and he had been asked to give talks at nearly all of them. And his designs …

  Well, don't get me started. They were absolutely incredible, in a way that I had never really known design to be before. I didn't really know how he managed to pull all these different pieces together and make what looked like such a smooth and seamless bike, but I wanted to learn. If there had been any doubt in my mind, prior to coming here, that this was what I wanted to do with my life, there was none of that misgiving left now.

  The trick was to learn everything that I could about transmissions, engines, and all the other components so that I could figure out what worked together and what would never work. There was a difference between designing a beautiful bike and just throwing things together as a cool fantasy.

  “What can I help you with today, Jess?” Gary asked, taking a bite of the orange chicken.

  I sighed. “Well, it's not one of your assignments, but I was hoping that you might help me with it anyway,” I told him. “The truth is, I've been assigned this really awful drawing for my mechanics course, and I just … well, I'm a little stuck on it.” I went on to tell him all about the project, and I was relieved to see that he was grinning and nodding by the end of it.

  “Yeah,” he said, pushing aside the containers of food. “I totally understand. Let's do a sketch of what you've just said, shall we?” And he was off, his pencil moving quickly across the paper between us, sketching lines. Suddenly everything made sense, drawn by his pencil.

  When he finished, he began to discuss the work with me, and by the end, I understood it all. He shook his head. “Jess, I think you're just getting too much into your own head,” he told me. “You know the answers, but then you start second-guessing yourself.”

  I sighed and ducked my head a little. “You're probably right,” I admitted. “I just ...” I trailed off, blushing.

  “You just what?” Gary asked, sounding intrigued.

  That only made my blush worse, but I forced the words out. “I kind of feel a little ...out of place in my lectures,” I admitted. “I'm some ...townie. I grew up around here. I didn't just come here for college. And beyond that, everyone in our class seems to be brainier and more experienced and … well, just everything else.”

  “Don't let that bother you,” Gary soothed, although I noticed that he didn't outright deny my claims. And that put me even more on edge.

  “I can't just ignore that,” I said. “They're all just waiting for me to screw up. I mean, I'm the scholarship kid—but I'm still paying through my nose just to be here. They've probably all got designer tool belts and overalls.”

  Gary snorted a little, clearly amused by my antics. But he didn't make me feel at all childish for venting my concerns. Instead, he made it seem as though we might somehow find some way to make things better. “Oh Jess,” he sighed. “You don't need to feel like you're out of place here. I don't know your particular financial situation, of course, but yes, many kids who choose to come to Knightsbridge come from reasonably wealthy backgrounds. But-”

  “It's not just that, Gary,” I sighed.

  He reached out and lightly patted the back of my hand. “You're very clever,” he told me gently. “You've got such a clear talent in our class. I'm really looking forward to seeing what you do over the course of the year—and over the course of the program, honestly.”

  I ducked my head even further. “Platitudes-” I started to say, but Gary cut me off before I could even begin my protestations.

  “No,” he said. “Seriously, Jessi, you're one of the top students in my course—one of the top students that I've ever had in that course. You have a great eye for the stuff. Sure, you need a little polishing. But you're a brilliant diamond in the rough, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. One of these days, maybe I'll have you designing a bike for me.”

  He winked at me, and I couldn't help flushing with heat and pleasure. Gary was nothing like the biker dudes that normally came into Dad's shop. This guy really knew his way around bikes, in both the real and theoretical sense. I knew that a lot of the women around campus giggled when they saw him; as for me, I wasn't really attracted to him, but he always had time to talk me through any problem I was having. I appreciated that bit of extra support; I didn't know how the rest of the kids were getting by on their own.

  And it kind of made me feel a little more like I belonged every time Gary said that I had done something right. I had been floundering in a couple of my courses for the first few weeks, feeling shy and uncertain, like the new kid. He was slowly erasing that feeling, and I was so grateful for that.

  For now, though, Gary glanced at his watch and frowned. “Shoot,” he said. “I have this meeting that I have to go to. Some silly faculty thing...”

  “No problem,” I said, standing up and gathering my things. I paused with my fingers at the edge of his sketch. “Would you mind if I took this with me?” I asked. I knew I wasn't about to forget his explanations, but for some reason, having this little piece of him that I could keep Was important.

  Gary smiled at me. “Sure, go ahead,” he said, pushing the sketch towards me. “Just don't let me find out that you've gone ahead and submitted it to your mechanics professor. That's cheating, you know.”

  I laughed a little and shook my head. “Definitely not about to do that,” I said. “That could get me kicked out of school!”

  “Good,” he said.

  “I guess I'll see you on Monday,” I told him as I headed towards the door, lingering for as long as I could without making things seem awkward. I liked being there, in his office. It felt safe, like a haven from all the stress of the rest of the university campus. But it was probably about time that I made the trip home, anyway. Dad and I would probably try to get a little work done in the shop that evening so that we'd be all ready to really get some solid work done over the next couple days while I was off from school. I could tell that we were already a little behind on our projects, and I was beginning to doubt our ability to turn things around in the timelines that we had set in our contracts.

  I didn't want to think about that. And as selfish as it sounded, I didn't have to think about that when I was there in Gary's office talking about school.

  “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a beer this weekend,” Gary told me. “I mean, strictly as a professional thing. There will be a few of us getting together from the department, and we'll talk shop.” From the way that he was grinning, I couldn't tell if he was joking about that last part or not. “There's this cool grungy biker bar that I know, and they've got a couple bikes up for display inside. Might give you some good inspiration for that project we have coming up. Plus, maybe it would make you feel less like a townie if you knew some of the hip places around the city a li
ttle better, and if you knew a few more of the students in the department.”

  I offered him a shy smile and nodded. “Yeah, I'd like that,” I told him.

  “Great,” Gary said, giving me a winning smile in response. “Give me your address and I'll pick you up.”

  “I live way out in the suburbs,” I told him, shaking my head. “In Crossdale. You don't want to come all the way out there to pick me up.” Not only that, but I could only imagine what dad would say if he found out that my professor was swinging by to pick me up and take me out for a beer. Dad didn't totally follow the industry news. He preferred that his ideas came from himself, he always said, but I had a feeling he would recognize Gary Ellsmith at a glance.

  Gary shrugged. “I don't have to come by, if you don't want me to,” he said. “I forget you don't live downtown like the rest of the students. That must be quite the commute every evening. I guess I'll let you know where the place is and you can meet me there.”

  “Sounds great,” I told him, already thinking about what I could wear to impress him.