Rough Rider
Page 3
One of the three reached out and lifted the leather jacket out of the bag, so he could see the flaming wheel on its back and the name, Wheels from Hell Motorcycle Club, emblazoned on it. He stuck his finger through the knife hole on the left front and asked, “Is Billy Boy gone, gone or dead, gone?”
“Either way, he’s gone,” she answered. “Long live the Devil’s Angels.” Her voice was mocking and filled with bitterness, but the words were what needed to be said– or at least they were the words that the three Devil’s Angels needed to hear. The leader of the three stood and draped the jacket over his arm. As he headed for the door, the other two fell in behind him. When they were gone, Hannah walked over to the shift manager and said simply, “I need to take the rest of the day off. I’ll be back in tomorrow at my regular time.” When she got back to her apartment, it was empty.
There was a note in the center of the table. It read simply:
If I’m still alive, I’ll see you in a month.
Take care of yourself, cowgirl.
William
***
A month had passed...and then another week. Things returned to normal. It was past 8:30 and Hannah was practicing her foam artwork. Tonight she was working on the rose, but for some reason for her last attempt she decided to make a giraffe. That’s the one that never got made that night, she thought to herself. Then, she heard the door open and close.
William looked odd in jeans and a denim jacket. There was writing on the back of the jacket and he turned so she could read it. She read it aloud, curious about its significance, “Bill’s Bikes - Carson City, Nevada.”
“Bill was in my dad’s unit,” he began, as he took a seat at the counter. “I was named after him. That’s why I’m always William. He’s Bill. I’m William.
“Bill has a motorcycle shop in Nevada. He left the Wheels when they first started turning to the dark side.” He smiled at his Star Wars comparison and stood up so that he could move to the end of the counter. “His son doesn’t want to take over the business, so he is offering to sell it to me over time while he shows me how to run it. I’ll still be around bikes and there’s a lot of open road over there by the California border.”
Hannah remained silent, but thought, Had William come back just to say goodbye? If so, it would have been better if he had just remained gone.
“Funny thing,” he continued. “Bill’s son wants to open an accounting office. He can’t pay a whole lot, but he says he’s looking for some right-out-of-college accountants who can hold their own in tough situations. He said it’d be their chance to get in on the ground floor and maybe becomes partners as the business expanded. I told him I knew of somebody who would be perfect for the job, if she was willing to come to Carson City with me.”
He smiled broadly at her. “What do you think, cowgirl? You want to ride with me to Carson City?”
“I’ll have to give notice,” she stammered out.
“After the disturbances with the Devil’s Angels, your boss would probably be glad to be done with you.” He took her hands in his own. “And I doubt that you have gotten caught up on your rent in the past six weeks. Pack what you need and tell the landlord to sell the rest to cover the back rent. I’ve got an apartment over the shop. It’ll do until we both get back on our feet. We can leave tonight.”
“Help me finish cleaning up, and then we can leave in the morning,” she replied. “That will give this cowgirl the chance to see if she can ride a bucking bronco as well as a wounded horse.”
She threw a clean towel at him and pointed him toward one of the machines that still needed wiping down. “I don’t know. This bronco is liable to throw its rider and end up on top of her while she’s down,” he replied.
“That would be OK, too,” she answered with a smile. “Just as long as she doesn’t have to make any of these damn foam designs while she’s down.”
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Bianca hated those Merrick boys. She wasn’t alone.
They were nothing but trouble, but no one dared stand up to them. Look at one Merrick cross-eyed and before you knew it you were at war with the whole clan. She kept to herself and bit her tongue when they wrecked her diner on a regular schedule. It was a small price to pay to stay on Merricks’ good side.
Braden Foster never was much good at keeping his opinions to himself.
The leader of a nomadic band of bikers, Braden was accustomed to facing trouble head on, usually with fists. Occasionally with a crowbar. This policy didn’t win him many friends, but it rarely mattered. He never stuck in one place long enough to weather the consequences.
That was before he came to the aid of a pretty lady restaurateur.
He figured he’d at least earned a cup of coffee for his trouble, but when he stepped between the Merrick boys and Bianca’s diner, he lit a spark that threatened to burn the whole town to ashes. It was up to him to put it out.
Bianca knew a gathering storm when she saw one.
But which was more frightening: the storm between Braden and the Merricks, or the one brewing in her heart for a man arguably more dangerous than the Merricks themselves?