by Chiah Wilder
She’s got the hots for him. Hell, I’ve got the hots for him. I can’t believe how sexy he turned out to be. But he’s a womanizer. Remember, Ryan told you that. You’re so out of his league.
“I’ll be here for a bit.”
“Sweet.” Shelly scampered down the hall as the administrator of the facility tried to move the residents away from Mrs. Heller’s room.
The exchange with Shelly must have brought him back to reality, because he stepped back from Hailey and cool air replaced his warmth as he went back over to his grandmother. Hailey pivoted around and watched him wipe Helen’s nose. That single act made her heart melt. She wanted to tell him that she’d always had a huge crush on him, that the kiss they’d shared the night before was the best one she’d ever had. That he did something to her—always had—and that she wanted to get to know Garth the man. But she just stood mutely in the doorway, watching him share a tender moment with his grandmother.
He threw the tissue in the trash, then went into the connecting bathroom and turned on the water. When he came back out, drying his hands with a paper towel, he gave her a half smile. All of a sudden, she felt like an intruder. She smiled back and went over to the chair to pick up her purse.
“I better get back to the shop,” she said.
“Okay.” There was a spark of some indefinable emotion in his eyes.
She spun around and walked out of the room. Outside, the hot, dry air bore down on her as she cut across the parking lot. It was an inferno inside her car, and she turned up the air conditioning to high and rolled down the windows to let the heat escape. Her mind was still spinning over the discovery that the man she’d been lusting after since he’d given her a tattoo was Garth. What were the chances of that? She didn’t think he’d contact her again. Since he was a player, he probably figured he could fuck her a couple times and then move on. Discovering who she was must have put a major kink in his plans of seduction.
Her phone vibrated and she hoped it was him. With slumping shoulders, she read Rory’s text.
Rory: What’s going on? Brent said u haven’t returned his call.
With a heavy sigh, she frowned while she shook her head slowly. Not in the mood for this, Rory.
Hailey: Been 2 busy 2 think. Slammed @ the shop.
Rory: I feel 4 u, but u have 2 get out. What about Sat?
Hailey: Not sure. Brent doesn’t do anything 4 me.
In anticipation of Rory’s response, she pressed her lips together and looked out the window. In front of her, a silver metallic motorcycle shone under the glaring sun. The artwork on the bike drew her in—a zombie apocalypse. She’d never seen anything like it, and her gut told her it was Goldie’s bike.
Rory: Y not? Please don’t tell me u’re into the tattoo guy.
Hailey: K, I won’t.
Rory: R u serious? Brent’s handsome, smart, witty, and a NICE GUY.
Hailey: Then u go out with him. Gotta run. Later.
She chuckled as she started the engine. What could she say? Brent just didn’t do it for her. She was serious about Rory going out with him. He was a million times better than that pessimist Troy. Anyway, she was seriously attracted to Goldie. The funny thing was that she saw the sexy tattoo artist as Goldie, not Garth. Garth was still a teenager locked in her memory. Plus, thinking of him as Goldie made her not mind so much that he was Ryan’s best friend.
The tires squealed as she turned too sharply onto the main road. Maybe she’d come back the following day and see if she happened to run into Goldie. Maybe she’d turn into a stalker or something. One thing she knew for sure: she would see him again, even if it meant her seeking him out.
She wanted to get to know him all over again. Ryan wouldn’t be happy about it, but he was halfway across the world. Goldie was just across town. Besides, people were always running into each other in small towns. It was inevitable.
She’d make sure to make the unavoidable happen.
Chapter Seven
When Goldie entered the clubhouse, he saw Steel sitting at a table with Paco and Sangre. He walked over to the table and Patches placed a bottle of Coors on it, then went back to the bar.
“Hey,” he said to his brothers as he sat down.
“How’s the poker run coming along?” Steel asked.
“Good. I’ve got all the travel routes set up, and I’m planning the club’s basic itinerary. A lot of the brothers signed up for it, and I got a bunch of other bikers who are down. It should pull in some bucks.” Being the club’s road captain, he was responsible for organizing all the runs and tours, leading the formation on rides, and enforcing rules and procedures for group rides. Goldie also had to supervise the maintenance of all club vehicles, but he usually designated that to Shotgun, who ran the club’s bike and auto repair shop.
“We could use some pocket change for the upcoming rally,” Sangre said. He was the treasurer of the club and always looking for ways to bring in more money. The club’s businesses brought in a steady stream of income, but it was the marijuana dispensary that was killing it for the Night Rebels.
“You gonna go on the ride with the Fallen Slayers this weekend? Afterward they’re gonna have a helluva hog fest. They’re even having women wrestling in barbecue sauce. I gotta fuckin’ see that.” Paco laughed.
“My ass will be there. I’m craving some new pussy,” Sangre said.
“You guys will have a good time. I’m passing. Breanna wants to go to the Wildlife Museum in Durango. We’re gonna make a day of it.” Steel pulled his black hair into a ponytail.
“Sweet pussy or a museum. Damn, that’s a hard choice,” Paco joked.
“Not for me. I get both. I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Steel replied.
“You down?” Sangre asked Goldie.
“I think I’m going to pass. I don’t feel comfortable leaving the shop for the weekend.”
“Tattoo Mike’s not going. There’s no way his old lady’s gonna let him spend a weekend with a shitload of chicks,” Paco said.
“What the fuck’s up with that? He’s the man. If he wants to go, he should go.” Sangre frowned.
“He could do that, but he probably wants to have some peace for the next few months,” Steel replied.
“And some lovin’,” Paco added.
“That’s why I’m aiming to stay single. No way am I having a chick tell me what the fuck I can and can’t do. That’s bullshit.” Sangre motioned the prospect to bring him another beer as the brothers laughed.
“There’s definitely something to be said about the single life. I’m not planning on changing that either.” Paco took the beer from the prospect’s hand.
“Me neither. There’re plenty of chicks around. Who needs one to mess with your head and life? Just because she’s fuckin’ hot doesn’t mean shit. There’re plenty of hotties who’re more than willing to spread for biker cock.” Goldie stretched out his legs and looked at his brothers, who just stared at him. “What? I’m right, you know.”
“Who’s the chick who has your cock?” Paco asked as he scooped up a handful of pretzels the prospect had just brought over.
Red spots clouded Goldie’s view. “No woman’s got my cock. No way that shit’s happening.”
“Really? You sure are making a lot of fuckin’ noise about it.” Steel’s blue eyes twinkled.
Goldie’s jaw tightened. He turned to Sangre. “You know what I’m saying.”
“I guess. But it does seem like you got someone’s pussy on your mind.”
“No fuckin’ way. Pass the goddamn pretzels.”
Paco pushed the bowl to Goldie, and Skull and Army came over. Soon the brothers were talking about their favorite topic—Harleys. As they conversed, Goldie’s mind drifted to Hailey, as it seemed to be doing far too often. It pissed him off that he couldn’t forget her and just take up with another chick. He’d thought that once he’d kissed her, he’d be done, but it’d only gotten worse.
When he’d seen her in his grandma’s room, he’d almos
t left before she spotted him, but he couldn’t. Watching her bent down, her shapely legs looking damn good in her shorts, he’d been rooted to the floor. All he’d wanted to do was watch her big tits sway as he took her from behind. He groaned at the visual in his head and quickly looked at his brothers to make sure no one heard. They were still enthralled with motorcycle talk.
He blew out a deep breath. What the fuck’s up with me? Hailey’s just a chick. A fucking hot, tempting one, but a chick nevertheless. There’re a ton of them. I could call Kelly over right now and have her suck me good. Easy. But he didn’t want Kelly down on her knees; he wanted Hailey’s pink full lips wrapped around his hardness, her mouth gliding up and down it.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He’d never been as attracted to a woman as he was to Hailey. And it wasn’t just the “forbidden fruit” crap—although that was a huge plus. No, he’d felt a spark between them the night she’d come into the ink shop. Before he’d known it was her. When he’d seen her on her stomach, her cute ass waiting for him to design it, it’d taken all his strength to not run his finger between her folds. “Damnit!” he hissed as his cock throbbed, punching against his fly. I gotta stop this shit.
Goldie had to get his control back. As far back as he could remember, he’d never let a chick bother him. Even when he’d been attracted to Hailey back in high school, he hadn’t acted on it. But it’d been different back then. She’d only been fourteen and he’d just turned eighteen, and she was Ryan’s sister. She still is. Nothing had really changed except that she was a woman now and had needs he was dying to fill. When he was standing behind her in his grandmother’s room, desire ribboned through him as the subtle scent of her perfume lured him closer. He’d almost dropped his head down near the curve of her shoulder and nuzzled her creamy flesh, just below her ear. It was a good thing Shelly had come by.
“Sign me up for the poker run.” Jigger’s hand on his shoulder pushed Goldie’s thoughts backstage.
He looked up. “Sure. Bring your bike to Skid Marks and Diablo will check it out. He’s putting a priority on all bikes that are going on the run next week.” Jigger nodded and joined the growing number of brothers at the table.
Goldie’s phone rang and he slipped it out of his cut. Ryan. Fuck. He jumped up and to the back porch.
“Hey, dude,” Ryan said.
“Is your ass hot enough over there?” Goldie asked.
Ryan chuckled. “You can’t believe how fuckin’ hot it is. What laws have you broken since we last spoke?”
“Too many to tell you.”
“I gotta ask a favor of you. Hailey’s moved back to Alina. Our aunt Pat’s laid up and needed her help in the flower shop,” Ryan’s voice crackled.
“We got a shitty connection here.” Goldie sucked in his breath.
“Can you hear me better?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, I just found out that her fuckin’ ex-boyfriend’s found out she moved to Alina. This guy was obsessed with her to the point that she had to take out a restraining order. It’s times like this that I wish I were home so I could bust the fucker’s face. The asshole hit her and she got out of there real quick, but he started stalking her.”
Picturing Hailey with bruises on her from some sonofabitch made his blood boil. “You want me to watch out for him?”
“Yeah. It’d make me feel a lot better if I knew you had your eye on her. I’m not sure this asshole will come there, but he still tells people they’re together.”
“I got this. You gonna tell Hailey?”
“Not sure. She’s been in Alina for eight months. I didn’t tell you because I know what a wolf you are.” His laugh broke up.
“It’s hard hearing you, dude. I’ll take care of it.”
“Yeah, I can’t hear you very well either. Watch Hailey.”
“What’s the fucker’s name?”
“Nolan Colley. Fuck! I gotta go. Later.”
“Ryan?” Silence. Goldie took out a joint, lit it, and inhaled deeply as he watched the leaves from the trees sway in the warm breeze. Ryan wanted him to protect Hailey from some asshole. He could do it, no problem. But who was going to protect Hailey from him?
You gotta get a grip on all this. Ryan was his best friend and needed him to help out his sister. Easy. All he had to do was remember he was there to watch out for Hailey and nothing more.
Nothing. More.
Right.
Fuck.
Chapter Eight
Sheriff Wexler chomped on his gum as he looked at Terri Crews, Mrs. Heller’s daughter. The blonde lady leaned over his desk, her charm necklace clanking against it, and said, “Someone killed my mother. What’re you going to do about it?”
He cleared his throat. “We have to first establish that your mother didn’t die of natural causes. I spoke to your brother yesterday and he doesn’t agree with you.”
“He doesn’t want any delays that will tie up his inheritance. He’s only ever cared about the money since our mother became ill. He came by to see her maybe two times in the six months she was at Cherry Vale. I know my mom. I know how she was right before she died. I spent most of the day with her. She ate well, she was laughing, and she told me if she kept feeling better, she’d be home soon. Then she died? No. Something’s wrong here.”
“Your mother was eighty-three years old. Sometimes a person feels great right before they die. It happened to my grandfather. I’m just saying that, according to the medical reports, your mom was a very sick lady.”
“Is that what Dr. Daniels told you?”
“I’m just going by the medical reports I reviewed at Cherry Vale.”
“Well, talk to Dr. Daniels. He’s as surprised as I am that my mom died. He told me she was doing well.”
Wexler sighed and leaned back in his chair. He knew how hard it was to lose a parent. He’d buried his mother the previous Christmas, and it still made him choke up when he thought about her. Mrs. Crews was understandably upset over the death of her mother and was trying to make sense of it. Death slipped in when people least expected it, and for those who couldn’t handle the shock, they tried to find ways of showing that the loss of a loved one happened too soon. Hell, whenever someone you love dies, it’s too soon. We’re never prepared.
“So are you going to look into this? I insist on an autopsy.” Mrs. Crews rummaged through her purse, smiling wanly when he pushed the tissue box closer to her.
“Let me do some digging. If it looks like an autopsy is warranted, I’ll order it. At this point, that’s the best I can promise you.”
Nodding, she wiped her nose and took another tissue. “Don’t let this sit on your desk. I have to bury my mother.” Her voice cracked at the end.
“I won’t. I’ve got your number. I’ll call you.” He rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.” He watched her walk away, her shoulders drooped as she took small, hesitant steps. After she was out of earshot, he went over to Deputy Miles Carmody. “Go over to Cherry Vale and ask some questions about Mrs. Heller. Find out who was on shift when she died.”
“The old lady? Is there something suspicious with her death?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Her daughter’s adamant that there’s foul play. I said we’d look into it.”
Miles jumped up from his chair and tucked his shirt into his pants. “I’m on it.”
“Let me know what you find out when you get back. I’ll be here for a while.” Wexler went back to his office.
The truth was he had nowhere else to be. He’d never married after his divorce ten years before. It wasn’t that he lacked female attention; plenty of women in the county found the forty-six-year-old, six-foot sheriff handsome even though his blond hair was thinning at the sides. Being a cop was what broke up his marriage, and he couldn’t go through that again. Maybe when he retired he’d find a permanent companion. His daughter’s two kids kept him entertained, and he and his son still went fishing wh
en Wexler could get away. Since both of his kids were out of town for a few weeks, he’d been passing his nights at the office.
There was something about the way Terri Crews insisted that her mother had been killed that made him send Miles to Cherry Vale. If nothing turned up, at least it would appease his mind, and hopefully Mrs. Crews’s.
He took a sip of his cold coffee and pulled out a stack of paperwork that needed to be turned in to the city council. He could always count on the county to fill his time. Picking up a calculator, he began plugging in figures.
Chapter Nine
Hailey had walked past Helen’s room several times hoping to see Goldie, but he was never there during the times she went to visit her aunt. Glancing at the clock in her car, she realized she had some time to kill before she met with customers for their upcoming wedding. Without thinking, she turned down Saguro Street and snapped up a parking space a few storefronts away from Get Inked.
Gripping the steering wheel, she tried to talk herself out of going inside the shop, but it didn’t work. It seemed that whenever Goldie was involved, her reasoning couldn’t compete with her desire. Sighing, she locked her doors and headed toward the tattoo parlor.
When she walked in, the pervasive scent of medicinal soap mixed with the sweet aroma of weed hit her full-on. A blue-haired woman with tattoos on her arms and several facial piercings smiled at her.
“Welcome. Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
“No.” Hailey pulled on the strap of her purse. What the hell do I say? That I want to see Goldie? What if he’s working on someone? I shouldn’t have come.
“So you’re a walk-in?” The young woman tapped an open notebook with her finger. “You need to sign in.”
“Sign in?” She’d forgotten she’d signed the book the night she’d stumbled into the shop for her ink job; she thought she’d just given her phone number. Wait a sec. I wonder if Goldie saw my name. He called me the next day, but—