Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “Lemme see,” he demanded, reaching out a hand to cup my chin gently urging me to turn my head. “It’s the shit, babe. Looking good.”

  “The shit or like shit, Stan?” I teased although where the flirtatious tone came from was anyone’s guess. “There’s a huge difference between the two, right?”

  He smiled as his eyes did another slow roam. “Looks good. Just calls ‘em as I sees ‘em, babe. You know that.”

  And I did. Stan had always been honest, sometimes too honest in allowing his opinions out. “You want to come in? Otherwise, everyone in Missoula’s gonna know our business before sunrise.”

  He turned and waved to where Ally held her position behind the counter, watching our every move. “Yeah. Let’s get out of the spotlight. Should I stow the cut?”

  The question startled me more than a bit and knew my confusion showed. “Your cut?”

  “I can tuck it in the bike if you don’t want your kid to see it.” I knew he was referring to the vest the Hellions always wore, the one that had a skull surrounded in flames on the back. Their patch, as it was called.

  Pushing open the door, I peeked at him over my shoulder. “Its fine, Stan. He’s seen bikers before.”

  I led the way, turning on the remaining lights as I moved, grateful for something to do as he dropped himself into one of the chairs by the table at the window. Stowing my purse was the last of my dithering and as I walked the few steps back to where he sat, I found myself wiping sweaty palms on my jeans.

  In all the fantasies I’d had of seeing Stan, I’d always envisioned meeting him again during the day, in a public place with lots of people around. Not just the two of us cozily ensconced in a hotel room at night.

  “So…” I started while I eased myself in the chair opposite his. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long, babe.” I let my eyes roam his face, taking note of the deep grooves on either side of his mouth, the crinkled lines at the corners of his beautiful eyes. But the wrinkles only gave his face character, I decided. “How was the trip?”

  “Long,” I answered. “Tiring but uneventful.”

  “Those are best kind, yeah?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know what else to say since it seemed there was so much between us but so little that actually needed talking about in that moment. For me, I was just happy to just sit and stare at the man that I’d once called mine.

  And he seemed to be of the same mind because he never looked away from me, just allowed his eyes to roam over my hair, my face and whatever portion of my body his gaze fell on.

  “You nervous, Dore?” he said after a time, one eyebrow quirked in query. “’Cause you’re shaking that leg like you’re about to run a race.”

  I placed a palm on the offending leg, trying to stop the nervous gesture I’d had since grade school. “Maybe a little.”

  He leaned forward, his smile fading as he propped his elbows on the small table and held a hand out, waiting until my palm was against his before speaking again. “You don’t have to be. It’s just you and me.”

  God, he was using the exact same words he used to use when we were necking on top of one of the picnic tables when we were in high school. Those crazy nights when he’d kiss me senseless and then try to cop a feel, scaring me at how he made my body yearn for something not yet known.

  Five seconds in the door and the man was already affecting my libido!

  “So how are you? What’ve you been up to? I see you’re still with the Hellions,” I gushed in an effort to change the conversation as I re-crossed my legs.

  “I’m the manager of IT for Hellion Construction and vice-president to the club.”

  I blinked deeply, shocked at what he’d said. “You’re on the Hellion council?” I was aware of what it took to gain one of the positions of power within the HMC. In my wildest dreams, I’d never envisioned Stan would’ve made it that far in such a short amount of time.

  “That a problem for you, babe?” I felt his thumb perform a caress across my knuckles.

  I shook my head but my mind was still processing that particular bit of information. Being a V.P meant Stan was now the right hand man within the club, one of the decision-makers who lead the concave of brothers. And were usually the worst of the bad-asses who ruled.

  My brain and heart didn’t want to believe that the beautiful, sweet man I’d been married to, had a child by, had grown to be that kind of badass.

  “But what about you, Dory? What do you do to make your green?” His voice jolted me out of my thoughts and I took a moment to steady myself before answering.

  “Co-owner of Luscious, the premier hair salon of choice in Casper,” I answered and felt a wave of pride at being able to tell him of my success.

  “I thought you wanted to be a nurse.”

  The fact that he remembered my old dream made me grin. “Yeah, but college was too expensive and I didn’t want to wait four or more years to get into the job market. So I ended up going to beauty school instead.”

  “You like it?”

  My grin spread into a full smile. “Yeah, I do. And like it even more as one of the owners.”

  “Being in charge? Being the person who makes the rules?” Even though Stan was smiling, his eyes seemed serious.

  “Yep.” I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed holding the reins of the salon and that Joy and I had built our business up to its current level without anyone but the bank to tell us what to do. But it was time to move the conversation off of me. “Who holds the gavel at HMC now?”

  He pulled back but didn’t disconnect our hands. “You’re interested in that shit?”

  His reaction caught me off guard. Why couldn’t I be as curious about his life as he was about mine? “Well, sure. I may not have been around for a long time but I still remember how the club works! So who’s the president now?”

  “Trey.” He paused, probably because at shock my face must have shown. When I’d left, Stephen, who had just been starting to call himself ‘Trey’, had still been in high school. “I know, right? That little fucker grew up into a pretty good guy and took the presidency couple years back. Got the club out of the illegal shit and into some pretty sweet arenas.” Stan also seemed proud, but then he always had been proud to call himself a Hellion, of having grown up in the club.

  And I hadn’t missed how Stan was careful to let me know the HMC’s former methods of generating cash through prostitution, drugs and guns had been eradicated.

  “Need for you to watch the language, Stan,” I cautioned. “My son’s next door and I try to keep the swearing to a minimum.”

  He turned to look at the interconnecting door that was closed but through which I could hear the booms and bangs of whatever game J.R. was playing. “Did I say anything the kid hasn’t already heard, much less said or thought?”

  I couldn’t help my smile at his logic. “Probably not, but I’m hoping to keep it to a minimum at least until he’s in college.”

  Stan shrugged before using his other palm to cover our joined hands. “Sounds like a good plan. So you’re raising him on your own?”

  I dropped my eyes, afraid of what he might see in them as I answered. “Yeah. His dad…hasn’t been in the picture.” I gave a rueful chuckle, “I guess we’re just your typical American family of two.”

  “Must’ve been hard, babe.”

  It was my turn to shrug. “Sometimes. But all in all, he’s a good kid so I’ve had it easier than some of the other single mothers.”

  J.R. took that moment to burst through the connecting door. “Mom! They have free Wi-Fi! I need the keys to get my headset out of the glove box.” He stopped and I saw his eyes drop to the hand pile on the table before he glanced at me, finally turning to Stan. “Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

  I pulled my hand back and stood. “J.R. this is my good friend, Mr. Bastian. Stan, this is my son, J.R.” And honest to god, I chose the chicken-shit way out again by turning to retrieve the keys from my purse, un
willing or unable to watch my son meet his father for the first time.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bastian,” I heard from behind me, my stomach in knots as I took my time.

  “A pleasure, J.R.,” came the deep grumble. “What’s the game?”

  “Red Rover VI,” was the reply.

  “What level are you on? The last time I played, I lost it on seven.” I turned back to see if Stan was serious. He played video games?

  “Yeah, seven was a bitc…erm, really hard but I’ve made it to nine.” I noted J.R.’s posture matched his voice in that he was completely relaxed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Snagging my keys, I started back to the table. “Is that your motorcycle outside?”

  “The Harley? Yeah, that’s me. You into bikes?”

  “Rabidly but my mom hates ‘em, don’t you, Mom?” My boy’s face was wreathed in a teasing grin that he directed my way. I glanced at Stan and almost stumbled to realize the resemblance between them.

  My boy was almost a carbon-copy of this father.

  “True,” I managed to utter as I handed J.R. the keys. “Get your headset but make sure to lock the car up after you’re done.”

  “Thanks!” he yelled as he went back into his room. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bastian.” He stopped and turned back. “Hey, could you take me for a ride sometime while we’re here? I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.”

  “If it’s cool with your mom, absolutely. But only if you promise to show me how to beat level seven.”

  But J.R. knew me too well and didn’t press the issue. “It’s a deal! See you!”

  I sat back down as J.R.’s door thudded closed. “So that’s my kid.”

  Stan was watching my face closely, so closely in fact that I felt the need to babble again. “Actually, he’s pretty good. Gets great grades, helps out at home as well as the shop and other than the occasional teenager attitude and smart mouth, a joy to be around.”

  “Nice grip when he shook my hand. Looked me in the eyes when he spoke, which tells me a lot about how he was raised,” Stan responded. “You’ve done a great job with him, babe.”

  “Thanks, Stan,” I muttered, my heart clenching at the admiration I could hear in his voice. It was one thing to hear good things about J.R. from teachers or the girls in the shop but quite another to hear it from the man who had sired him.

  The silence between us drifted in again and I raised my face to find Stan staring at me. “What?”

  “I don’t know. There’s something different about you and I don’t mean just in how hot you look with the new ‘do,” he began. “You’re stronger now, not as hesitant as you used to be.”

  “I’m older, Stan. And as a mom, I’ve had to learn to be strong.”

  He nodded and pushed back his chair. “I should shove off. It’s late and you’ve been driving all day.”

  I held up a hand as a silent request for him to stop. “Wait! You said we had stuff to talk about?”

  His eyes held mine as he sank back into the chair. “Yeah. But I’m betting you’re fucking tired as shit after your drive. You’re gonna be here for a few days, right? We’ll talk later, babe. Clear the air.”

  I felt my eyebrows raise as I wondered what it was Stan thought he needed to tell me. That was so important that I needed to be rested in order to hear. But I felt relief as well since that meant I didn’t have to expose my own secret so soon after rolling into town.

  “Okay then,” I started, getting to my feet. “Thank you. I mean not just for coming by but for getting the rooms. Ally said the tab was being paid by the club.”

  “It’s the least we could do for one of our own, babe,” he said, his hazel eyes a warm caress as he gazed down at me.

  “Even one that was allegedly considered dead?” I couldn’t help the words as they shot out of my mouth but I tried to soften them with a grin.

  “Especially, babe.” The firmness of his deep growl was only superseded by its tender tone.

  The urge to hug him was so strong, I could only restrain my hands from making the move by shoving them in my back pockets. “I got some stuff to take care of before we go back on Tuesday. Are you sure you’ll have time to see me?”

  “Count on it, Dory,” he rejoined and reached to pull me into his chest, a place I so wanted to be. And as his arms came around to hold me to him, my hands did exactly as they’d ached to do and slid behind him, gliding as they roamed up his back. I turned my face, pressing myself against the biker I used to call ‘husband’ and breathed in the aroma of the man who was once mine. “Feels good to have you back in town, babe.”

  “Good to be here,” I murmured, closing my eyes to better savor the feeling of being held by him. “Even if it is only a brief visit.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow and see what’s doing. Maybe we could go to lunch or something,” he said, dropping his arms and taking a step back, taking all the warmth and emotion of the moment away with just that small movement.

  “That sounds great,” I agreed, tucking my errant fingers back into my pockets as he opened the outside door. “We can talk more then.”

  “Sleep sweet, babe,” he said on a deep note, using the same words, said with the same inflection I’d heard every night for five years.

  “You too, Stan,” I called back, allowing my eyes to follow him as he walked to his bike, his shoulders in counter-rhythm to his hips. God, he was still gorgeous but with a mature handsomeness, more confidence which made him twice as sexy as he used to be. “Be safe, honey.”

  I saw his feet stutter and his shoulders square but he didn’t turn around when I spoke. Just lifted two fingers of his right hand which he flicked my way.

  The typical good-bye of an ever-so-cool Hellion biker.

  Chapter Nine

  Bishop’s mind was a muddle as he rode the sleepy streets of Missoula, making his way home after seeing Dory.

  Christ!

  His beautiful ex-wife had only gotten better in the years she’d been away. Not that she hadn’t been the stuff of dreams when they’d been married. But the woman she’d grown into blew that innocent young thing right out of the water.

  What had she gone through to give her that level of poise, that kind of confidence? Because he sure as shit didn’t believe it was just from being a mom. Although, after meeting J.R., Bishop could understand raising that kind of kid could force a person to step up their game.

  Jesus, the kid was a pistol. Smart and so sure of himself, much more than Bishop had been at that age. And could think on his feet, if the way he’d responded to Bishop’s wink as they’d been introduced was any indication. Bishop didn’t think Dory would appreciate knowing her son had called him on the sly and had winked to tell J.R. that he wouldn’t be a snitch about it. The kid’s nod in response was clue enough that Dory would be kept in the dark.

  He pulled into his driveway and stowed his ride in the detached garage, his brain still working through their meeting. A meet that hadn’t been arranged or planned to death before it happened. But he hadn’t been able to wait, hadn’t been able to stay away knowing that she was in town.

  He’d been on pins and needles all day aware, so very aware his Dory was on the road, making her way back to Missoula.

  Or to him, if he was gonna go the self-honesty route.

  So much so he’d had to take notes at the attorney’s office, his brain unable to take in all the info while it was filled with memories of Dory and of the ‘them’ they used to be. But he’d notated all the points the legal-beagle had made, of the documents that needed to be supplied and of the decisions he would have to make regarding tying up the loose ends of his life.

  Letting himself into the house, Bishop briefly scanned the rooms finding the kitchen completely gutted. It seemed as if the Hellion crew had put in a full’s day work, finally getting the last of the old removed. There was a certain symmetry to it, he decided. On how his past, the scattered bits of his life were being put in order on so many different levels.

&nbs
p; He hung up his cut on the rack attached to the wall by the door and made his way down the hall to his bedroom. But it was all done by rote, out of habit because his mind was still filled with the images of her, of the sound of her voice and her laughter as they’d talked.

  And, Christ! The things they’d talked about.

  He would’ve bet his fucking bank account she’d never want to talk about the Hellions. Not since so many of their fights had been over his involvement with them as a recruit and for her to ask about them had stunned him to his core. She hadn’t even asked him to remove his motherfucking cut, for god’s sake! The one thing she’d screamed at him, telling him in no uncertain terms had no place being worn in her presence back in the day.

  Shit, what a difference a few years made!

  Shucking out of his t-shirt as he moved, Bishop was assailed by the smell of her on the fabric and brought it to his nose. There was the aroma of some kind of perfume, something that smelled both light and expensive. But underlying it all was just the fucking scent of her, of just his Dory and he breathed it in, closing his eyes at the memories the fragrance brought to mind.

  One of wild days and wilder nights.

  Of long limbs twining and tongues dueling.

  Where soft sighs and fervent moans punctuated the not-so-quiet silence of whatever room their passion had found them in.

  And where the sweet, the goddamn sweetest of satisfied relief had claimed them both.

  Tossing his shirt into the hamper as he shut off those particular memories, Bishop turned on the water at the bathroom sink before lifting his eyes to his reflection.

  Had she noticed the march of time on his face as he’d seen on hers? But he’d liked seeing the laugh lines her skin held. Those faint wrinkles spoke of a life well lived, of happiness both given and received. Even if he hadn’t been a part of it, Bishop had always wanted Dory’s life to be a good one, one filled with love.

  But he hadn’t missed the fact that Dory wore no ring, something Ally had confided and expounded on in his few moments with her while waiting for Dory to return.