F*CKERS (Biker MC Romance Book 7)

by Scott Hildreth

“Likewise,” he said. “Follow me, Sir? Mr. Bale will be down in a moment.”

  “Sure.”

  I followed him into the home, and along the corridor toward the rear of the house. His size and swagger led me to believe he was the security guard Mr. Bale had mentioned inheriting along with the home.

  He stopped just short of a large room that was decorated with rich leather and velour furniture. The back wall was solid glass, and gave an unobstructed view of the ocean. I walked toward the glass and stared out at the waves as they came toward the shore.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It sure is.”

  “What can I get you to drink?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “I’ll bring you a water. Have a seat, Mr. Downey.”

  I sat down in a chair that faced the windows. As I admired the size and structure of the room, Mr. Bale walked in.

  He stopped directly in front of me. “Is it as painful as it looks?”

  I shook my head. “Not bad at all, really.”

  “Sorry for your misfortune,” he said. “I hope they’re captured.”

  I felt if I told the complete truth, he’d lose faith in me. So, I told a modified version of the truth, linking my injuries to being mugged by street thugs outside a restaurant.

  “I’m sure they’ll get what they deserve,” I said.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “I’m sorry about my absence. I was unconscious for almost three days.”

  “The project came along smartly while you were away. Have you seen it yet?”

  “I haven’t.”

  I’d scheduled the painter, the cabinets, and the finish carpenter prior to being abducted, and hoped they’d made as much progress as I asked them too.

  He motioned toward the kitchen. “Are you up to it?”

  I pushed myself up. “Lead the way.”

  When I entered the room, I was stunned. I tried to hide my excitement, but doubted I did a good job.

  The cabinets were white, and no differently than the cabinets we had installed in the kitchen in Oceanside, they brightened up the space. The 6” custom crown molding seemed massive when I looked at a sample, but seeing it installed was proof that my instincts were correct.

  “Crown molding looks great,” I said.

  “I’m sorry I questioned you,” he said. “Victoria is giddy about it.”

  “Your wife?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad she’s happy with it.”

  “She’s so happy that. Well. We’ll talk in a moment. So, you’re pleased?”

  I gazed around the room. It looked fantastic, and would only require tile and a little paint to be completed.

  “I am. I’m going to guess two more weeks and we’ll be complete. Might be ten days, but there’s a lot of custom tile work and grout to get done.”

  “Either way,” he said. “It’ll be ahead of schedule.”

  “Again, I’m sorry for the lack of communication, but I’m glad we made progress while I was gone.”

  “No worries,” he said. “Your health is far more important than this kitchen.”

  Downes stuck his head in the doorway. “You water is in the other room, Mr. Downey.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Downes walked away, Mr. Bale turned to face me. “Victoria would like to have you remodel all of the bathrooms in a similar fashion. Maybe two at a time? After you’re finished with the kitchen, of course. Is that possible?”

  “Absolutely. In fact, we can start as soon as we’re done.”

  “She would like that. Same color cabinets. Same crown molding. I suspect different tile, though. Can you make a drawing and bring samples like last time?” he asked.

  I fought not to smile. I had no idea how many bathrooms he had, but it sounded like he had more than two. The profits would get me that much closer to buying a house.

  “Absolutely. Maybe two days to complete the drawings and gather samples, and then we can sit down and discuss it. How’s that?”

  “Sounds fabulous.”

  “How many bathrooms are there?”

  “Seven inside the house,” he said. “And the bathhouse outside.”

  Jesus.

  “It might take me awhile to get everything worked up as far as price goes.” I chuckled. “That’s a lot of work.”

  “I’m not concerned with price, Mr. Downes. I trust you.”

  “I’ll give a price anyway. I always do. Surprises, especially financial ones, aren’t pleasant.”

  He nodded. “Very well.”

  After a few more seconds of admiring the work, I followed him into the other room.

  We sat for some time, talking about golf, music, and our favorite sandwiches. His wife, Victoria, joined us, and the talk migrated to love, children, and raising a family. Children, they said, were the best thing to happen to their relationship.

  It was rare for me to feel like much more than just another Mexican construction worker when I was remodeling kitchens. I felt that most customers appreciated my work, my prices, and my attention to detail. But, in the end, I always felt that I was just another Mexican in their eyes.

  Being in Mr. Bale’s home made me feel otherwise.

  I felt appreciated.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lex

  Maria looked at Adam, shook her head, and folded her arms across her chest. “You need to stay off the leg. There are the things you can live without, but your legs isn’t it.”

  “Mother, I--”

  “You must take care of the legs.” She turned and looked at me. “He needs to stay off his leg.”

  “I can’t make him do anything,” I said. “He’s stubborn.”

  She pointed her index finger toward my crotch. “You can make him do anything. You have what he wants, so you make the rules.”

  Adam scowled at her. “Mother!”

  She looked at me and shrugged. “It’s true. When we’re not happy, the knees?” She clapped her hands together. “They need to go closed.”

  I liked Maria. A lot. I laughed at her remark. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “And?” She raised her index finger. “You can hide the keys to his little motorcycle.”

  “Nobody’s going to hide a damned thing, mother,” Adam hissed. “Why don’t you go cook--”

  “Why don’t you sit down?” She cocked an eyebrow and pointed at the couch. “Now!”

  Oh shit.

  He limped toward the couch and flopped down onto it without arguing.

  She tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Come with me. He can sit here and think about trying to ride his motorcycle without the legs.”

  I took a few steps toward the kitchen with her, and then glanced at Adam. He was staring at the floor and messing with his hat. I wasn’t completely sure if his mother was kidding, serious, or a little of both.

  I kind of liked not knowing, but I guessed it didn’t matter. She’d made him uncomfortable about being overly active, and that may have not been a bad thing.

  When we entered the kitchen, the smell of whatever she was cooking hit me like a wall. I wondered what it was, but wasn’t curious very long.

  “Te gusta tamales?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Te gusta.” She opened the oven. “Do. You. Like?”

  “Do I like tamales?” I asked.

  She removed a dish from the oven. “Si. Tamales.”

  My mouth was salivating. I smiled. “I do.”

  She waved her hands toward the cabinets, sink, and then the oven. “La cocina. The. Kitchen.”

  “La cocina,” I said.

  “Very good,” she said, although it sounded like she said berry good.

  “That is enough lessons for one day,” she said with a smile.

  She removed another dish from the oven and placed it on the stove beside the first one. “We cook for the men, it keeps them happy. If they’re happy, we’re happy.”r />
  I wondered about cooking for Adam, but quickly grew frustrated about living with my mother. With my new job, I could get my own place in a matter of a few months, and the thought of it excited me.

  “If they do the stupid?” She clapped her hands together. “Close the knees.”

  “I will,” I said, trying not to laugh.

  She carefully removed the aluminum foil from the dishes, and then looked at me and grinned. “He has a head like a rock, but he’s a good boy.”

  “He’s very nice. And, he’s polite. You raised him well.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  The differences between my mother and Adam’s mother were huge. I could see myself being close friends with Adam’s mother, but my mother would always be my mother, and nothing more.

  It wasn’t that we weren’t friendly with each other, because we were. I was sure, however, that we’d never become friends.

  Together, Maria and I set the table. Although Adam seemed interested, he sat quietly on the couch and watched as we got everything ready. After everything was in place, his mother let him get up from his time out chair.

  “It’s ready for us to eat,” she said. “You can get up now”

  I fully expected him to make a snide remark or say something funny, but he didn’t. He simply got up, walked to the table, and sat down.

  He peered at what was in the dishes. After seeing what it was, he looked up with excitement in his eyes. “Tamales and chile con carne?”

  His mother nodded. “Tu favorito.”

  “English, mother.”

  She glared at him and then looked at me. “Tu favorito,” she said “Your. Favorite.”

  I looked at Adam. “Tu favorito.”

  “Yes,” he said. “It is.”

  She glared at him. “Lower your head.”

  I lowered my head.

  “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  “Pork and Anaheim chiles?” he asked.

  “Your favorite,” she said. “Fill your plate.”

  “Ladies first,” he said.

  She nodded toward the food. “Fill your plate, Adam.”

  She looked up and noticed that he was wearing his hat. “Adam. Wesley. Downey. Do we wear little black hats at the table?”

  He yanked it off and tossed it across the room. “No ma’am.”

  “Thank you.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand and smiled.

  We filled our plates and ate for what seemed like hours. I enjoyed eating at Maria’s, but then again, tacos were my favorite food, and eating whatever she cooked resembled tacos enough that I was in food heaven.

  When it was obvious we were finished, she looked at me. “You eat like a bird.”

  “She had four tamales with chile, mother.”

  She looked to her left, paused, and then looked to her right. “I don’t see anyone talking to you. I was talking to Alexandra.”

  “The food was wonderful. I’m stuffed,” I said.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She looked at what was left, and smiled. “I’ll send some home with you.”

  Upon hearing her words, I remembered. “Oh crap.” I realized I’d cursed at the table. I quickly covered my mouth. “I mean shoot. Oh shoot.”

  She shot me a worried look. “What happened?”

  “Your dish. I need to go get it.”

  She waved her hand toward me. “You can bring it the next time you come.”

  “No. I brought it, I just forgot to bring it in.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Did you drive?”

  “No. We both rode on the motorcycle,” I said. “I put it in the little box on the side.”

  “The little box.” She smiled. “I like you.”

  I looked at Adam, winked, and then looked at her. “I like you, too.”

  “I’ve got an announcement,” Adam said.

  Here we go…

  “What?” Maria asked. “That you’re going to be a legless fool?”

  “No. It’s official.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What’s official?”

  “Alexandra and me,” he said with a smile. “We’re in a relationship. It’s official.”

  It felt good to hear him say it. No, it felt great to hear him say it. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye.

  She stood up, glanced at me, and then fixed her eyes on him. Her face distorted into a playful scowl.

  “You’ve been in a relationship. And now you’re finally a big enough man to admit it. That should be your announcement.” She reached for my hand. “Come with me, Alexandra. I’ll fix the two of you a plate.”

  On the way to the kitchen, I realized what she had said.

  I’ll fix the two of you a plate.

  Yeah, I liked Maria.

  A lot.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Cholo

  Crip, Pee Bee, Smokey, and I were in the shop, and things were getting heated quickly. Crip rubbed his beard for a minute, and then looked at Smokey.

  “Hundred percent?” he asked.

  Smoke took a drag off his deal, and then tilted his head back. After filling the shop with a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke, he locked eyes with Crip. “Yep.”

  “You’re full of shit, Smoke,” Crip said flatly.

  Smokey pushed his vape into his pocket and puffed his chest. “You calling me out, Crip?”

  “Settle down, you big dumb prick. I’m saying in general,” Crip said with a laugh, even though his eyes looked worried. “Generally speaking, you’re full of shit. You believe what you want to believe, and when you get something in your head, there’s no changing your mind. So, if you think Lefty was the last one out, you’re going to say Lefty was the last one out, even if it was Speedbump or one of the other fellas.”

  “And, I’m fucking tellin’ ya Left was last. I saw Bump come out, and then I remember looking up, and seeing the two bikes who were leading us without kids on ‘em. I looked back, and Cholo was at the rear, but not the sweeper. Two bikes in back, and one had Little Frank on it, and the other was empty. Peeb asked about four times, are we ready? I remember thinkin’ whoever is dicking around in there must a been takin’ a shit, because it was takin’ all fuckin’ night.”

  “I talked to Speedbump,” Crip said. “He said--”

  “Wasting your fucking breath if you was talking to him,” Smokey said.

  “Let me fucking finish, Smoke,” Crip hissed.

  “Finish, but I don’t give a fuck what he said. Left was last.”

  “As I was saying. Speedbump said he wasn’t last man out, and that when he left, the money was on the coffee table. He also said he got in the fridge to get a beer and there was more money in the fridge. Says he didn’t so much as pick up a dime. So, if that’s true, and I believe it is, it means last man out is our man.”

  Smoke pulled out his vape, took a big hit, and blew the cloud at his feet. After taking another long pull, he held the smoke in his lungs, and then looked up. “And last man out was Left.”

  Crip narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “You might be President of this MC, but it gives you no fuckin’ right to call me a liar, Nick. Keep calling me one, and we’ll find out which one of us is the bigger bad ass,” Smokey said. “That, my friend, is a promise.”

  Crip didn’t bat an eye. “When we go to Lefty’s you’re coming.”

  “Fine with me. I’ll call his ass out to his face.”

  “You’ve been riding with this club for a year,” Crip said. “Lefty’s been here for as long as me. I’ve got a difficult time believing that--”

  “Let me tell you something, Prez,” Smoke said in a snide tone. “There’s people you can count on, and people you can’t. Don’t matter how long they’ve been in your life. What matters is are they there for you when you need ‘em? I’ve been patched for sixteen months. Was
I there when we rolled up to challenge the Savages?”

  Crip nodded. “Yeah, Smokey, you were.”

  “Did I volunteer when it came time to punish ‘em?”

  “Sure did, Smoke.”

  “Was Left there for both of those?”

  Crip shrugged. “I’m sure he was.”

  Smoke laughed. “And, I’m sure he wasn’t.”

  I couldn’t remember, so I shrugged.

  Crip looked at Pee Bee.

  “Left wasn’t there. Either time,” Pee Bee said.

  “Okay,” Crip said. “You made your point.”

  “Hell, I ain’t close to done,” Smokey said. “There’s more.”

  “Well,” Crip said. “I’m done hearing it. We’re rolling to Lefty’s, and you’re coming with.”

  Smokey glared at him. “What? Is my butt supposed to pucker?”

  He turned toward his bike, got on, and fired it up. “Waiting on you, Nick.”

  The four of us rolled into Lefty’s shop and parked on the sidewalk. He owned a small media-blasting business that consisted of a few machines and a truck that used high-pressure air to blow ground up walnut shells through a nozzle.

  The process was used to clean paint or rust from steel.

  Surprisingly, the parking lot was empty, but Lefty’s bike was parked outside his shop door.

  Together, we sauntered into the building.

  “I’ll do the talking,” Crip said.

  Smokey shrugged.

  I hung my helmet on the bars and pulled on my hat. “Okay by me.”

  Pee Bee nodded.

  I knew Crip had his piece, but I wasn’t armed. I saw no real need to be, and although I wanted to find out who put my life at risk, I, no differently than Crip, had a difficult time believing it was Lefty.

  I’d never been inside Lefty’s place, but it was clear Crip had. We followed him down the hallway and into an office. The temperature in the building was sweltering, and I wondered how anyone could work in it.

  “How’s it going, Left?” Crip asked as he passed through the door.

  I didn’t need to hear the tone of Lefty’s voice to know he was worried, I saw it in his eyes. Standing behind a cluttered desk in a sweat-stained denim shirt, he looked at Crip with nervous eyes.

  He glanced at each of us and then rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Going slow, Boss.”