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A Step from the Edge (Tough, yet Tender Book 2)

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by Loretta Palmer


  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Didn’t look like nothing.”

  “Well, it was.”

  I looked him straight in the eyes, my heart pounding. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “No, Leah, you’re smarter than me, as you and I both know. But I’m gonna ask you to be as stupid as you can manage about what you just saw. Best if you just forgot it ever happened.”

  “If there’s something dangerous going on, I can’t play dumb. I’ve gotta tell… well, the cops I guess.”

  “No!” Asher said forcefully, before softening his tone. “Please. That’ll put me in danger. I can’t tell you to never talk about it, but give me today to sort this out, OK? That’ll be the best for everyone.”

  I furrowed my brow. I wasn’t eager to do Asher any favors, but I had no idea what we were dealing with. As much as I was inclined to dislike him, I wasn’t in a hurry to get him hurt, let alone anyone else. Until I knew more about what was at stake, it seemed like the best course of action was to trust him.

  “OK,” I said. “But know this: I’m not going to forgive you—ever—if you let something bad happen to my family.” In that moment, I wasn’t sure exactly what “family” I meant, since for so long it had been just me and my mom.

  “Me neither. Believe me, I understand, Leah.” Horns honked behind us. “You’d better get out. I’ll talk to you after you’re back from school. Everything should be sorted out by then.”

  I nodded slowly. Without another word, I hopped out onto the curb and joined the rush of people entering the school.

  Sophia, my best friend, buttonholed me in the lobby. “So, are you gonna to tell me who that was?” she asked, clearly burning with curiosity, as we walked toward A Wing.

  “Who?”

  “The guy whose car you just got out of. Your new boyfriend, by the looks of it.” She had a glint in her eyes that told me she was not about to let this go. Sophia, I loved her, but when she sensed a juicy piece of gossip, she was as tenacious as a pitbull clinging to a New York strip steak.

  I sighed. “It was my stepbrother.”

  She covered her mouth in mock horror, “A torrid affair with a stepbrother. That’s so unlike you, Leah!”

  “Jesus Christ, Sophia, you have a disgusting mind.”

  She shrugged. “No more disgusting than Jane Austen’s. Didn’t you read Emma?”

  “You’re thinking of Clueless, genius. And, even though I adore that movie, that part of it is gross as hell.”

  “Aw, come on, it was romantic.”

  “Bullshit.” We walked together in silence for a few seconds before Sophia ventured to respond.

  “Well, if you’re not going after him, believe me, I will.”

  “And how are you going to do that? He doesn’t go to school here, and he spends most of his time drinking with his friends or riding his motorcycle.”

  “With your help, of course. On a totally unrelated note, want to get together for a study session at your place after school? I really need to get those Spanish conjugations down before the quiz tomorrow.”

  “Not today…”

  “See? You’re getting jealous. You really are into…”

  “Asher. And no, I’m not. I just have… some stuff to deal with.”

  Finally, she figured out I wasn’t kidding around. “OK. If you have anything you want to talk about—“

  “Yeah, I will.” I disappeared into my first-period class, and Sophia walked on down the hall.

  Chapter 4

  Asher

  Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I have let the Seraphim get a glimpse of my new family? They’d declared a cease-fire at the summit following the incident with Rachel, but I should have known better than to trust a club that would shelter a pair of scumbags like Clem Hoffman and Lew Tallyweight. The way Clem had looked at Leah—just thinking about it made me shudder.

  I had to clear this mere up, and fast. Mere seconds after I pulled into the driveway and hopped out of the car, I was on my bike, headed to the garage. When I got there I was panting, as if I’d run the whole way.

  “Hey dude,” Adam greeted me, waving a hand with monkey wrench in it. “You’re looking a little peaked. Are you that excited about getting a job here at the garage?”

  “No—I mean, sure, but we can talk about that later. Right now, I need you to call in the cavalry.”

  Adam’s amiable expression shifted to one of deep concern. “What’s going on, man?”

  “It’s the Seraphim. Clem Hoffman and Lew Tallyweight, to be exact. I was driving the new stepsister to school this morning, and there they were on either side of me, just staring. They didn’t pull anything. It was more like they were toying with me—or warning me about something bad coming ‘round the bend.”

  “But at the summit, we agreed—“

  “Yeah, we agreed they’d get off my case and yours, if I took the fall for the assault without breathing a word about the attempted rape. And formally resigned from Lucifer’s Claque. Well, something’s changed.”

  “Fuck. Well, it’s gonna be hard to get the guys involved, since you’re no longer technically a Claque brother.”

  I scowled. “Oh, this is the loyalty I get after doing three years’ hard time?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying, Asher. But there needs to be a vote among the Inner Circle.”

  “With due respect to the Inner Circle, I have to take care of this today. Now.”

  Adam sighed looked down and rubbed his eyes. He spit. Finally, he continued. “OK, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll send Mutt and the Prospect with you. They can be your triggermen if things go sideways.”

  “OK, good enough. And ain’t nothing going sideways, ‘least not if I can help it.”

  “See that it doesn’t. ‘Cause it’s gonna be my ass on the line if it does.”

  ***

  Cal “The Calamity” Amity, President of the Seraphim MC, was not a hard man to find. No matter the hour, unless he was out on official club business, you could find him knocking back boilermakers at Haskell’s, a ramshackle dive bar right off the interstate, a few miles outside town. The tough part was getting past the bouncer (always a high-ranking brother) and the Noble Winged, the two stone sober, AK-toting bodyguards who flanked Cal at all times.

  To even get into the bar outside of normal business hours, you had to know the secret hand signal—which, of course, I did. I interlocked my thumbs, forming my fingertips into the pinions of a pair of angel wings, then raised my hands with a fluttering motion. Mutt and the Prospect watched me do this with some dubiety.

  “OK, so you know the signal, but why are you here?” said the burly, bearded bouncer. “I know you’re still a Claque affiliate.”

  “So I am. But I’m not a member anymore. I just want to discuss a matter that was worked out three years back. The peace treaty of 2012—maybe you remember?”

  “Yeah, I was there. You can pass. Please, though, tread lightly with the President. He’s had a lot on his mind.”

  “Of course.” I walked through the door. Mutt and the Prospect followed close behind me, hands levitating warily over their guns.

  Cal was just ordering another boilermaker when he saw me walking in. It wasn’t too tough to spot given it was 10:30 AM and no one else was in the bar. ”I Melt With You,” the 1982 hit by Modern English, was piping through the bar’s shopworn speakers.

  “Asher, my good friend, you’re out of the clink! It feels like it’s been forever.” the skinny, kutte-clad gangster cried, brushing his coiffure out of his eyes before welcoming me with a drunken spread of the arms.

  “Cal, my pal! I’ve missed you.” I knew that Cal was nowhere near as drunk as he seemed, and that his amicable demeanor was a front. I’d dealt with him before my prison bid and, even if I hadn’t, I knew better than to trust a man who rocked a Flock of Seagulls haircut in 2015. But playing along was clearly the right move for the moment. I motioned for Mutt and the Prospect to stay cool.

/>   “Sit down—you and your former brothers, sit down!” Without the slightest visible communication from their leader, the two Noble-Winged retreated to the outer darkness of the barroom, where they stood, ardent sentinels, just waiting for somebody to make a wrong move.

  I sat down next to Cal. Mutt and the Prospect took their places the next stools down, struggling to look as innocuous as two men with packing heat could look.

  Cal leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on each cheek, further perplexing my companions. I found it weird, too, but I took it gamely.

  “Just got back from across the Atlantic. Setting up a little something with the Marseillais mob. The milieu, as the French call it. Guess I picked up some of the local idiosyncracies. Ahaha.”

  “I see.” I knew better than to let Cal’s pleasantries lull me into a false sense of security. I maintained the same steely gaze I’d worn when I first walked in.

  “I’m boring you! I can see it in your eyes. Please, what have you come to discuss?” The bartender, a girl who looked to be underage, glanced at Cal questioningly. “Another round of boilermakers, please,” he said, and tucked a hundred-dollar bill into the girl’s décolletage.

  “Well,” I began, “it’s about what we decided at the treaty negotiations three years ago. I was going to take the fall for Taleb’s murder without saying anything about the business with Carly, and you—“

  “We were going to leave you and your little Claque alone. And we’ve honored the agreement, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Well, a few of your brothers don’t seem to have gotten the memo. Clem and Lew, to be specific. I was driving with… a friend this morning, and the two of them rode up on either side of us. The way they were looking at us, you’d think they were trying to start something.”

  “No!” Cal put his hand to his breast, as if all of this came as a complete shock. Somehow, I didn’t believe it. ”Those two, always overstepping their bounds. I’ll have to speak with them. I realized they would be keeping an eye on you—it’s only natural, given you’re an ex-member of the Claque—but you can rest assured that any intimidation did not occur under our auspices.”

  “I’m happy to hear you say that, Cal, ‘cause I’m going straight now. Me and the Claque, we’re still friends, but that’s as far as it goes. Can I count on your boys to leave me alone from now on?”

  “You have my solemn word.”

  “All right, well, I should be going.”

  Cal put his hands to his cheeks in mock horror. “Not without raising a toast to your newfound freedom, I hope!”

  “Of course not.” I lifted my whiskey shot and my triggermen did the same. We clinked our glasses together and drained them. “Now—“

  “One more thing,” Cal interrupted. He pushed his bleached bangs aside to reveal the third eye tattooed on his forehead. I felt dizzy.

  “This ‘friend’ of yours, she means a lot to you?” he asked. I felt his gaze boring into me, and knew in an instant that I wouldn’t be able to keep any secrets from him.

  “No, she’s just my—“

  “Just your what?”

  “Just my stepsister. I met her for the first time yesterday.”

  “Interesting,” Cal said. “If she isn’t important to you now, know that she’s destined to play a significant role in your life from here onward. Please don’t do anything that could, hmm, put her in harm’s way.” He let his bangs fall once again over his third eye—and his second eye, most of it anyway—and peered at me through the one that wasn’t obscured by his tawny hair.

  Still dazed, I took a second or two to respond. “Sure thing. I’m planning on keeping her safe.”

  “Good,” he said, and rubbed his palms together vigorously. “Now that business is out of the way, what do you say we have a little fun? You three have made it just in time for karaoke.”

  Mutt and the Prospect both looked to me for guidance. I chuckled nervously. “Well, Cal old pal, we’d love to do a little singing, but I really should get back to my family before they start worrying about me.”

  “It was a rhetorical question. You will stay and sing.” On cue, the Noble Winged emerged from the outer darkness, brandishing their assault rifles.

  I grimaced. “Well, Mutt, Prospect, looks like we’d best do as he says.”

  “No need to be bashful,” Cal said, “I’ll warm us up. Bartender, the microphone, please?” The bartender tossed Cal a wireless mic, and the opening bars of Tears for Fears’ 1985 hit, Everybody Wants to Rule the World began to pump through the barroom speakers. In a reverberant croon, he began:

  “Welcome to your life; there’s no turning back…”

  Chapter 5

  Leah

  The rest of the school day was pretty uneventful. Sophia steered clear of me at lunch, and I felt bad about brushing her off earlier that morning, but I was still too concerned about what I’d seen on the way to school to worry much about her.

  It was Mom who showed up to drive me home. Normally, I would have been glad to see her. Now, though, I was too worried and distracted to make conversation. After I answered a few of her questions with monosyllables, she figured out something was wrong.

  “It’s not about Asher, is it? Did something happen this morning?”

  Fuck! Why do moms have to be so perceptive?

  “Uh-uh, nothing happened. I’m actually feeling a little sick.”

  “Oh, really?” At the next red light, Mom put the back of her hand against my forehead. “You don’t feel warm, honey.”

  “I don’t feel like, fever-sick. Just, like, tired and achy.” It was total bullshit, but she seemed to buy it.

  “OK, honey, well we’ll get you home, get some chicken noodle soup and Sprite into you, and you can get some rest. Good thing it’s Saturday”

  “Thanks mom, but I think it’ll pass.” I certainly wasn’t going to let my little white lie commit me to a whole weekend in bed.

  I was hoping that, when I got home, Asher would be there to inform me he’d worked things out with his shady friends, and assure me that Mom and I were in no danger. But he was nowhere to be found.

  “Mom, do you know where Asher is?” I asked, once I’d exhausted all the hiding places I could think of.

  “No. I think he left on his bike right after he brought you to school.” She peered at me with raised eyebrows over the issue of Harper’s she was reading. “You sure came around on him fast. This morning, you couldn’t hear his name without groaning, now you’re out looking for him.”

  I sighed. “It’s not that, Mom. He, uh, borrowed a book of mine and I need it back for class.”

  “Really? Huh. He didn’t strike me as such a big reader.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “Well, maybe you two will have something to talk about after all.”

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “Baby steps, Leah, baby steps.”

  ***

  A couple hours later, there was a knock at the front door. For a moment, I thought it was my stepbrother, but why would Asher knock? Last night, when he arrived, he’d walked right in. I set my copy of Waiting for Godot cover-up on the couch next to me and went, with some trepidation, to find out who’d come calling. To my relief, it wasn’t one of those creepy bikers from the morning; it was the dark-haired girl I’d seen on Ash’s arm the night before.

  I opened the door and looked at her questioningly.

  “Hi,” she said, waving a left hand with a lit cigarette tucked between its first two fingers. “You don’t know me. I’m Carly, a good friend of Asher’s.” After waiting a moment and realizing I wasn’t going to introduce myself, she got to the point of her visit. “Is Asher around? There was a nervous quaver in her voice.

  “Um, no.” Asher probably hadn’t been thinking about Carly when he’d asked me to keep quiet about what had happened but, in the interest of caution, I remained glib.

  “Or, do you know where he is?”

  “Sorry.”

  She
was getting frantic. “You don’t know anything about where he could have gone? He didn’t say say anything?”

  “Look, I’m not my stepbrother’s keeper. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. In fact, I think it’s better that he’s gone. He’s a felon, and he’s putting me and my mom in danger by even being here.”

  Tears started to well in Carly’s eyes. She turned away from me and sank to a sitting position on the front steps. I felt guilty for my little outburst, though I’d meant what I’d said. Fuck. Now I’m gonna have to comfort her. I sat down next to her, letting the screen door close behind me and, with all the fake sympathy I can muster, said, “I’m sorry…”

  Carly wiped her eyes. “You’re right… trouble seems to follow him wherever he goes, but it’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

  “Your fault? How?”

  Still sobbing, Carly said, “Do you—do you know why he went to prison?”

  I shook my head. “Nobody seems to want to talk about it, and I’m not about to get myself in trouble by asking questions.”

  “Fuck! Shit. I’m not really supposed to talk about it, either. But it breaks my heart to have you sitting here hating him, not knowing who he really is.” She drew deeply on her cigarette, which was speckled with teardrops like the sidewalk at the start of a sunshower.

  “Who he really is? Could you get a little more specific?”

  Carly sighed. “OK. I hope you’re better at keeping secrets than I am.”

  “ Oh, don’t worry. I’ve been getting really good at that lately.”

  “Asher, he… he killed a man.” I stared at her in disbelief. She continued, “But he did it to protect me. At the time, he was a patched member of Lucifer’s Claque, a local motorcycle club. There was a summit thrown at Haskell’s, a bar a few miles out of town, in hopes of soothing tensions between the five or so major MCs active in the state. Like most MC events, it involved a lot of booze, and things got crazy. Taleb, Vice President of the Seraphim, was falling-down drunk and started to get a little touchy-feely with me. Adam, my boyfriend was outside smoking, so I was essentially alone. The whole place was so chaotic that it didn’t attract much attention when two of Taleb’s cronies, Clem Hoffman and Lew Tallyweight, suddenly grabbed me, one by each arm, and dragged me upstairs to a private room.

 

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