by Evelyn Glass
“Like locking me in the kitchen for the rest of my life? Like picking who I can and can’t be with? Like shooting my best friend? Yeah, you’ve done a lot for me, all right.”
Kat’s face sagged. “That’s not fair, Jess.”
Jess shrugged. “Life isn’t fair.”
“What will I do if you leave?”
“You’ll either get your life together or you won’t. That’s up to you. Ron tried to help you. I should have tried more than I did. But in the end, it’s up to you, Mom. What do you want to do with your life?”
“So your mind is made up?”
“Yes. I don’t want to go, but I can’t stay. Not under these conditions.”
“And if I can get Val to back off?”
“Then I will think about staying. But it has to be soon. Today. And I need to hear it from him. And if he double-crosses us again then I’m gone, forever. Think about it,” Jess said as she began to slide out of the booth again. Scott had been waiting long enough. “But don’t take too long.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jess gritted her teeth again, trying not to cry, but it was hard. After their meeting yesterday, they had dropped her mother on the opposite side of the mall from where she had parked her car. Scott had given her back her cell, after pulling out the battery, and her weapon, after removing the bullets, and left them in her car along with the keys. As they drove away, Jess in the Toyota and Scott on his Harley, Kat stood in the parking lot looking forlorn and alone.
Jess had obsessively checked her phone the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, hoping beyond hope that Val would call, but he never did. Now they were in southern Michigan, rumbling south on Scott’s bike, headed back to Atlanta. It was a risk, but Scott wanted to try to salvage as much of his life as he could, and that meant returning to his apartment and packing a moving truck.
Jess leaned in tighter, holding him and drawing on this strength. She knew this was the right decision, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hurting. She had asked for nothing except for the right to live her own life, and her family couldn’t even give her that. She didn’t know if it was Kat or Val who wouldn’t budge, but it didn’t matter. What was done was done.
As glad as he was to get out of Detroit, Scott couldn’t deny the toll it was taking on Jess. After leaving her mother yesterday, and through the night, she seemed to crave his touch. They had thanked Ron for his support and dropped off his car, then rode out of Detroit to wait for Val’s call, not wanting to endanger Ron.
Two hours later Ron called. The Angels had paid him a visit, looking for them. Val wasn’t pleased, but hadn’t caused trouble when Ron met him at the door and explained they were no longer there and wouldn’t be returning because they had expected this visit. They hadn’t told Ron where they were going, but Scott’s respect for the man grew for not letting Val intimidate him.
They hadn’t made love last night, but he had held her tight throughout the night. He didn’t think she slept much, and she had woken him once during the night with near silent sobs. He pretended to be asleep as he snuggled her in a little tighter, and eventually her tears stopped. He had wanted to comfort her, knowing she was being forced to give up everything important to her, but he didn’t know how and was unable to find the words.
He reached down and caressed her knee and leg, trying to give her strength, before returning his hand to the handlebars. She had looked haggard but resolved this morning, but she continued to cling to him as if he were a lifeline. They had started early, trying to make miles before the heat of the day began to bear down on them, and Jess was being a trooper, not complaining about her perch. Scott checked the fuel gauge again, the needle just before touching the “E.” They had skipped breakfast, but now both he and the bike were hungry and Jess probably needed a break. Riding bitch wasn’t as comfortable as his seat was.
He pulled off the interstate in a Beaverdam, Ohio, rolling to a stop in a Denny’s. “Ready for some breakfast?”
“I guess,” Jess said quietly as she dismounted.
“Hey, it’ll be okay. Once Val comes to his senses, you can always go home.”
“You’ll let me do that?”
“Let you? Of course I will let you. I would prefer it be for a visit, but if you choose to stay in Detroit…” He shrugged. What kind of life has she led that she thought I wouldn’t let her return home if she wanted to?
Jess smiled. She still hadn’t fully adjusted to Scott not trying to run every aspect of her life. She also liked the fact that he trusted her to return to him, his self-confidence shining through in so many quiet ways.
“Sorry. I should have said you wouldn’t mind?”
“Not so long as we have a clear understanding with the Angels that you are free to leave if and when you want to.” He grinned at her. “I don’t want to have to ride all the way to Detroit to rescue you again. I got better things to do than kick Val’s ass.”
She returned his grin. He can probably do it, too. Scott opened the door for her, ushering her in with a wave and a bow, and she smiled again. Now that they were out of Detroit, he seemed more relaxed than any time she had seen him. She had to admit, being out of the decay of the city was beginning to buoy her spirits as well. She was going to miss her family and friends, but maybe this was just what she needed…a clean break. She could become a new person and leave all her baggage behind. As Scott stepped up beside her, she slipped her arm around his, leaned in close, and heaved a great sigh as they waited for a hostess to seat them. Yes, this is just what she needed.
***
Jess groaned as she clambered off the back of the Harley one last time. Scott had given her plenty of chances to stop and stretch her legs, but she was road weary and sore after the long ride. They had been fourteen hours on the road and that was by far the longest ride she had ever made.
The sun was still up, but setting, when Scott switched the hot and bug-splattered Harley off in his apartment complex. She knew Detroit was a city falling into despair, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of Atlanta, a bustling metropolis full of shiny new cars, shiny new buildings, and no sign of decay. It was like a wonderland compared to Detroit.
“Which apartment is yours?” she asked as she stretched and twisted her hips and back, trying to get some feeling back into her ass and legs.
“Second floor, left side,” he said as he unhooked their bundle of clothes from the back.
“God, I could use a shower. It is so hot down here.”
Scott chuckled. “Hell, it’s probably only in the upper eighties. Wait until it gets really hot. They don’t call this place Hotlanta for nothing.”
They trudged up the steps to his door and Scott had to smile when Rocky stood up from his nap on his doormat. “Did you miss me?” he cooed to the cat as he crouched down and scratched the animal behind the ears. He found out the hard way to not try to pick the cat up, but having Rocky rub against his knee as it purred filled him with joy. He was home.
Jess watched in amazement as Scott crouched down and scratched the ears of a fat black cat. “You have a cat?”
“Kind of. He’s a stray that likes to hang out here because I feed him.”
“I never figured you for a cat person.”
“Really? I love pussy,” he said as he stood up and unlocked his door. “Don’t I Rocky?”
Jess barked out a short laugh then followed him inside. “Jesus, it’s stifling in here!” she said as she looked around.
“Yeah, but it won’t be for long,” he said as he flipped the switch on the thermostat. There was a brief pause then a click and a whisper of moving air. “Make yourself at home.”
Jess looked around the main room. Scott’s apartment was small, but the main room was larger and more open than the one she shared with her mother, considerably neater, and tastefully decorated, if a bit spare. What captured her eye immediately were two paintings in simple frames hanging on the wall. She moved closer and admired the detail of the work.
She had a
lways thought of southern rednecks with pictures of Elvis painted on black velvet, but these were nothing like that. While painted on velvet, the picture of the woman, possibly Mexican from her skin coloring, her head covered in a bright scarf and holding a basket of flowers, was amazing. Almost photographic in its realism, her eyes skipped from one detail to another as she took in the masterpiece. She moved to the other, a portrait of a straw blonde girl with large eyes that captured her. She couldn’t decide if the girl was happy or sad, and she wondered if she had a similar look on her face.
“Who painted these? They’re amazing! DM?” she asked as she squinted at the tiny script in the corner.
“Delores Murphy…my mother.”
“Your mother painted these? Holy shit! Really?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know. I just, well, they’re not exactly Elvis are they?”
Scott couldn’t help but snicker. “Is your impression of southern life being challenged?”
Jess flushed furiously at being caught out. “Yeah, I guess it is. You’re certainly not the stupid, redneck hick that is the stereotypical southerner.”
“You know William Falkner, Mark Twain, Harper Lee, and Tennessee Williams were all southerners.”
“The others I recognize, but who is Harper Lee?”
“To Kill a Mockingbird?”
“Oh! Okay. That I recognize.” She turned her eyes toward the bookshelf against one wall. Later she would have to check out what populated the shelves and gain a little insight into the man that was her lover.
Scott smiled. “We’re not as backwards as you think. I even have indoor plumbing.”
Jess laughed. “And electricity, too.”
“Yeah. That was installed just before I left for Detroit.”
“So now that we’re here, what are we going to do?”
“Before or after we make mad passionate love?”
Jess flashed hot. “Oh, after, definitely.”
Scott pulled her to him, holding her against him as his blood began to surge. “I’ll tell you when we’re finished.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The pounding on the apartment door dragged them from a deep sleep. They had made love long into the night, Scott’s desire for her nearly insatiable, as if being home had removed a darkness from him. Though they knew they needed to get an early start, they had kissed and touched after he slapped the alarm off until they fell back asleep.
He leapt from the bed and peeked out of his bedroom window into the parking lot below. “Fuck!” he snarled.
“What?” Jess asked, pulling the sheet around her, her eyes large.
“Looks like Lance is here.”
“Someone you know?”
“Yeah. A brother,” he said as he pulled on a pair of boxers and removed his weapon from its holster. “What do you want, Lance?” he asked when he arrived at the door.
“Open up man. We need to talk. What’s going on?”
“Who’s with you?”
“What?” the voice on the other side of the door asked. “Nobody. It’s just me.”
Scott nodded at the door and then stepped to the side. Jess opened it, still holding the sheet over her naked body, and Scott placed his gun to Lance’s head as he stepped in. “Why are you here?” he asked as he shut the door.
“Whoa! Take it easy, brother!” Lance said, his hands slowly coming up so that Scott could see them. “I just want to talk to you, that’s all. Find out what’s going on.”
“Go get dressed,” Scott said to Jess as he reached under Lance’s Grim Angels jacket to pull his weapon from his belt.
“There’s a hold out in my boot, too,” Lance said, making no moves.
“I know,” Scott said stepping back, his gun still pointed at Lance. “Who sent you?”
“Jason. He said you turned and we were supposed to watch your place in case you showed up.”
“Then what?”
“Then take you down and hold you until someone from Detroit could get here. I couldn’t believe it. None of us could. When I saw your bike here, I wanted to talk to you to find out what the fuck is going on. And who was that?”
Scott thought it over then handed Lance his weapon back. Lance was a fireplug of a man, heavily built and thickly muscled. He was older, in his sixties, but he radiated health and vitality despite his white, close-cropped hair.
“Talk to me, Scott. What’s going on?”
Scott sat down in his chair and laid his weapon in his lap. “It’s complicated.”
Lance settled into his spot on the couch where he and Scott had shared many a beer. “It usually is. Does it have anything to do with her?”
“It has everything to do with her.”
“Who is she?”
“Jessica Mitchell.” When Lance looked at him with blank eyes he continued. “Val Ingersson’s niece.”
“The Val Ingersson? The president of the Detroit charter?”
“The one and same.”
“What the fuck did you do, Scott?”
“Nothing,” Jess said as she entered the room dressed in the same clothes she had on yesterday. “He saved me from a life of misery.”
Lance glanced back and forth between the two. “And?”
“And my mother and uncle didn’t like it.”
Lace stared at her a moment. “I think you need to start at the beginning.”
Lance sat quietly as Jess talked, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers and Scott’s, taking it all in but saying nothing. “So you really did pull a gun on Val?” he asked when she fell silent.
“Yeah, I really did,” Scott replied.
Lance made a face. “I can’t say I blame you. That’s not quite the same story Jason told us over the phone. Oh, he didn’t outright lie, but he certainly left out a few key facts. Like the fact that he helped set you up or that the odds were eleven to two. Same with the shooting of the two brothers. Funny how he forgot to mention that they started shooting first.” Lance smiled at Scott. “You did good, boy.”
For the first time since the pounding on the door, Jess relaxed. “You’re not going to cause us trouble?”
“Turn over one of our own to a bunch of damn Yankees? Not fucking likely. No offense intended.”
“None taken,” Jess said with a grin.
“What I want to know is how the hell you got into so much trouble so fast? You’ve only been gone a week!”
“Talent,” Scott said.
“What are your plans?” Lance asked.
“We’re getting the hell out of Dodge. I was hoping to be packed and gone before anyone noticed. Jason is a prick, but he isn’t stupid, I’ll give him that.”
“Well, he isn’t that bright if he thought we were just going to turn you over to him no questions asked.” Lance pulled his phone from his pocket and Scott stiffened, his hand going to his weapon. “Relax,” Lance said as he dialed. “Do you want some help moving or don’t you?”
***
Jess was kept busy making lemonade and sandwiches as the men worked. She and Scott hadn’t even returned with the moving van before the Grim Angels, Atlanta Chapter, had arrived and already had several pieces of furniture sitting in the parking lot, ready to load.
As much as she liked all her “uncles” in Detroit, she fell in love with the Atlanta Angels. They each exhibited the same easy charm Scott did, though most were considerably more rowdy. Several old ladies had arrived, as well, and were busy wrapping and packing boxes. She found them easy to talk to and she had them oohing and aahing over their recent exploits. She wasn’t up for the telling of Luke, and glossed over those details as she had with Lance by saying Luke was driven out of the club for hitting her one too many times and the resulting shit storm is what started it all.
Six hours later, Scott was putting his bike in the bed of his truck, and then drove the truck onto a trailer hooked to the back of the van. Most of the Angels had left, but Lance and his old lady, Becky, a charming woman probably the sam
e age as her husband but looked twenty years younger, had remained behind. She had watched as she and Lance played a little grab-ass after the van was loaded, and wondered if that could be her and Scott in forty years.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Jess said, hugging the woman fiercely. Why couldn’t Mom be like this woman? she wondered as they hugged.
“The Angels take care of their own,” Becky said as they parted. “Seems to me that is something they have forgotten up there in Detroit.”
“It seems like it, yes,” Jess agreed.
“Come on, you two,” Lance yelled. “The brothers are waiting already.”