The first time I saw her chopping an onion I thought she’d surely cut herself, then saw she’d learned or taught herself a technique by which she could safely do it.
She doesn’t object to my help when I offer it, she only protests if she feels I’m contributing assistance if I don’t think she can do it herself, when she’s perfectly capable of performing a task. I’ve learned to wait until it’s obvious, or only aid when asked. She knows her limitations better than I.
Already I know how far off the mark I was to ever think she’d be needy and clingy. Daily she demonstrates far more independence than Sally ever showed. Moving to Pueblo alone with only her dog beside her should have been the first clue, it had been there from the start. But so fresh from leaving Sally, I’d looked for something that wasn’t there, a reason to not fall for the first woman who crossed my path.
Have I fallen? A range of emotions must cross my face. At least, with her, I don’t need to guard them. I admit it, I have. I’ve fallen hard. Since the night before last, we’ve not touched, not kissed, and not spoken about the out of the world sex we’d experienced. The next morning started as each subsequent one has with us avoiding the issue completely. If at times I believe I see a wistful look on her face, it could be my imagination.
I know the words said in the dark of the night were right. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll be handing her back into the care of the marshals. Anything started now would have an expiration date. If I feel this way after just one night, how would I feel if we repeated it, not once, but twice, a hundred times or more? A feeling tells me, this woman is one I’d follow to the end of the earth.
It makes me admit, there was never a time I wasn’t faking it with Sally. From the start I’d been trying to make her into someone she wasn’t, trying to see her as the right woman for me, simply because she strayed into my path. Now I know why my Tucson brothers knew their old ladies were their one. It’s the same way I know Stevie could be that for me.
It’s easy to dream of taking her down to Tucson—on the back of my bike, she wouldn’t complain about the long ride. I’d introduce her to Sam, Sophie, Marcia and the rest of the old ladies. Oh, and Becca. Becca would be so happy I’d found someone for myself at last.
That thought pulls me up. While I’ve been with Stevie, I’ve not thought about Becca once, or not with the regret that she was with my best friend and not me.
But taking Stevie to Tucson, well, that’s never going to happen.
I’ve been staring down at my hands, something makes me raise my eyes.
Stevie’s standing, spatula in hand, her head quizzically tilted toward me. “You alright?” she asks.
Wondering again how she can tell, I lie. “I’m fine.”
“You gave a heavy sigh.” She frowns. “Are you getting bored, Beef? Staying here with me?” She gives a brief chuckle. “Getting cabin fever?”
How could I be bored? It’s easy being here with her. I read Harley magazines, planning upgrades to my bike while she listens to her audible books using headphones. Those are some of the best times, my attention often drawn away from what I’m reading, to watch the expressions crossing her face. Tenderness, arousal, anger. Yeah, the latter amused me. One night I was sure she was going to throw her iPad across the room. Or, if she’s not reading, we watch a film. I’ve become used to describing scenes where there’s action but no conversation. It’s natural for me to say something like, yup, she’s going down to that basement, to which Stevie will scream out, ‘No’, and, amusingly, cover her face with her hands.
Daytime I chop wood for the fire and clear up around the place outside while Stevie tidies the interior. This cabin has been neglected for years and there’s much I can find to occupy myself.
“Not getting cabin fever, Stevie. In fact the opposite. Probably the most time I’ve had to decompress for years. Can’t say I’d like staying here forever but it will be a while yet before I get bored.”
Her lips curve. “You done anymore on that old bike?”
Hmm. She remembers too much. Some of my clearing up might have revealed the frame of an ancient Indian. I’ve been scrounging around to see whether there are any other parts for it. Someone obviously brought it up here and dumped it. Perhaps they were going to restore it, but then gave up? Or, considering the early days of the Colorado club and the loss of members to prison or bullets, maybe they never got the chance to return for it. I remember how Sam, Drummer’s old lady, had restored her Vincent from nothing much more than I have found.
“Well, I might have found me a project to work on.” I laugh. Then I wonder about her. “How you doing? You finding time dragging?”
“I would, but you’re good company, Beef. Like you, though, it won’t be long before I want to get back to real life. It’s great having a chance to relax, and these couldn’t be nicer surroundings, but I do want to get back to work.” Her face falls. “Not that I probably have a job now, I just disappeared.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m designing a program to make doing taxes easier for blind people. Most of the time I work on my own, but I give email reports and updates. As I haven’t been able to do that, well, I suspect they’ll be looking for someone else now.”
They may well be. “The marshals got you that job?”
“Yes.”
“Then I suspect they’ll help you get something else. It was on their watch you almost got killed.”
She looks thoughtful and brightens as if I’ve given her hope.
My phone pings with a text. “Prospects are coming tomorrow,” I tell her as a warning. I haven’t been back to church, but Demon’s given me updates. Wills and Dan were ecstatic to be patched in, something I’d have loved to have witnessed. Always a good feeling bringing new brothers to the table. As a result, Beaver and Karl were given prospect cuts.
“I’ll make sure I’m ready,” she acknowledges. We’ve found a place where she can stay out of sight. Not very imaginative, just the spare bedroom. I’ve piled up furniture so it looks like a storeroom. No reason for anyone to go looking, but if they did, a cursory glance wouldn’t reveal her inside. Before they arrive, I’ll make sure there’s no feminine shit hidden around.
The next day I’ve got Stevie comfortable in her secret nest, well before our visitors are due. She’s going to listen to her book until she hears the bikes, then will just have to wait it out. I need to get her new headphones as the cheap ones she’s got leak sound. I promise to get rid of the prospects as fast as I can, but she waves me off, telling me to take as long as I need. She’s right, I’ve got to be careful not to raise suspicion, or for the prospects to suspect I’m not here alone.
It’s almost exactly the time Demon had told me when Beaver and Karl come driving up in the truck. Immediately they get out and drag on their brand-new cuts proudly displaying that they are Satan’s Devils prospects.
Beaver’s next action is to light a cigarette. Belatedly he waves the pack toward me, putting it back in his cut when I shake my head. I’ve never smoked, and the fresh mountain air immediately seems tainted. I step around him, putting myself upwind of the stench. Karl shakes his head at his traveling companion, then walks around to the back of the truck. I notice his eyes scanning the surroundings.
Looking for someone? Nah. Stevie arrived in Pueblo long after these two started hanging around the club. No one could have predicted Satan’s Devils and her paths would have crossed.
“This is the back of beyond,” Beaver says, conversationally. “Ain’t you going stir-crazy out here?”
“Not at all.” I don’t need to explain myself to a prospect. Oh, in time, if he looks like he’s going to make the grade I’ll look on him as a friend before he advances to being one of my brothers. Right now and just starting out? I need to see what he’s made off. “My bike got dusty coming up the dirt road. Go and clean it.” I point to the lean-to where it’s currently protected from most of the elements.
I’m pleased to see he stubs his cigar
ette out on the heel of his boot, pockets the stub, and steps smartly off in the direction of my Harley. Learning already. Good sign. Of course, I could have asked he clean the outhouse with his toothbrush. Maybe I’ll tell him to bring it with him next time. My lips curl behind his back. Always good fun fucking with new prospects.
“Beef!” Karl’s deep voice draws my attention to him.
He’s still leaning in the back of the truck, sorting out provisions I suspect. Well, if he expects a patched member to help his sorry butt carrying shit, he’s got another think coming. If he hasn’t learned the crap part of being a prospect yet, I’m happy to teach him. If I’d truly been alone, I could have asked him to cook me dinner and he would have to jump to it. Probably wouldn’t be edible though, unless he’s got hidden talents.
Prepared to educate him on the facts of prospect life if all he wants is help, I move around to the back of the truck, coming to an abrupt halt when I see what he’s brought.
Staring at the contents, Karl shakes his head. “Fuck knows why you want this beat up piece of shit. Think Demon thought you might be lonely.”
Curbing my instinct to put my fist in his face at his disrespectful mode of speaking, I crouch, then reach out my hand. A long pink tongue comes out to lick it. “Hey, you remember me, boy? You were in a fuck of a state when I last saw you.”
Max has got a cone thing around his head, his back leg is bandaged, and he’s got shaven bare bits on his front legs, presumably where the catheter went in. But his eyes are alert and bright, and when I reach behind his ears to give him a scratch, he leans into me.
Karl reaches into his back pocket. “Got instructions here from the vet. He told you to call him if you’ve got any problems.”
I hold out my hand. When the piece of paper is in it, I unfold it. Max is to be kept quiet and rested. The prospects have brought a crate for that purpose. There are instructions for his meds, and for his maintenance diet so he doesn’t eat too much and put on weight which would stress his healing leg.
“Okay, boy,” I mutter, half to myself. “Let’s get you inside.” It’s not the first time I’ve been close to him. Whether he remembers me or not, he doesn’t protest or struggle as I pick him up and take him inside.
Behind me comes Karl carrying a folded-up crate, and some blankets. There are other bags full of treats, toys, food and his meds, but at least the prospect’s got a head on his shoulders. We need to get Max settled and comfortable first. Stevie’s going to go ape-shit when she sees him.
“Don’t know why you want the mutt,” Karl mumbles as he sets up the crate. “Doesn’t the seeing-eye dog place take them back or something when they can’t work?”
Damn. He knows it’s Stevie’s. Well of course, he would. He’d have heard the talk around the clubhouse that I was the first on the scene of the accident. I wonder what I can say, and come up with, “You’re right, he can’t work. His mistress has moved on. I liked the mutt and offered to take him.”
“Your bike’s done, Beef. Got off all the dust.” Beaver points to the dog who I’ve placed in his crate. “I suppose the bitch left him as he was no good to her.”
“That’s right,” I say, firmly, keeping up the pretence, but unhappy to have even a fictional slur on her character. “A guide dog’s no good if it can’t work.”
“So, you, what? You wanted company?”
“I like dogs,” I repeat. Truth is, the closest I’ve ever been to a pet dog is Grunt, the wolfhound on the Tucson compound. I turn away dismissively. Conversation over. There’s a point when you start offering too much explanation that it becomes suspicious.
Beaver starts carrying grocery sacks into the kitchen. When he starts opening cupboards to put stuff away, I stop him.
“I’ll do that later. You’ll only put everything in the wrong place.” Places where Stevie wouldn’t think of looking. I’ll put everything away under her instruction later.
“Neat fuckin’ freak, ain’t ya?”
I swing around, suddenly seeing what he is. Tins stacked neatly by their contents. I simply glare at him. Whether I am or not is none of his business.
Wanting them to be gone, anticipating the delight on Stevie’s face when she finds out her friend has been brought back to her, I open the front door pointedly and follow them out. Then watch them go to the truck.
They’ve got their hands on the door handles when I shout, “You really want a beatdown? Be out of the club before you’ve fuckin’ started?”
Two men turn around fast. Karl holds up his hands as if to ward me off. Beaver looks perplexed. Then it suddenly dawns on them. In unison they give each other sheepish looks, take off their cuts, and only then get into the truck.
“Be sure to hide the fuckin’ gate once you’re out,” I add as they close the doors.
A wave of Karl’s hand out of the driver’s side window shows me he’s heard.
Fucking prospects.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I give it a few minutes before returning inside, making sure that the new prospects haven’t forgotten something or other and decide to come back. Then, with a huge fucking smile on my face, and unable to hold back on the surprise any longer, I go inside.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I call out before entering the bedroom where Stevie is hiding. I’m so impatient to show her what’s waiting for her, I can barely hold myself back from yanking her into my arms and carrying her downstairs.
“What’s the matter, Beef? What the hell are you doing?” Stevie’s face is tight. “Have they found me? Why the rush?”
Shit. I’ve scared her. She can’t see I’m beaming from ear to ear. “Nothing’s wrong. Fuck, sorry, Stevie. I’m happy is all, and you will be too.”
There’s a thump thump from the crate. Stevie stops dead, her brain computing the sound. The conclusion she comes to is confirmed when Max, eager to see his mistress, gives a small whine. Several emotions pass across her face, disbelief, then hope and finally, pleasure.
Taking a step toward the sound she asks, “Is he alright?”
“Yeah. He’s in a crate. His leg’s bandaged, he’s got one of those cone things on presumably to stop him gnawing the bandage off. He’s supposed to take it easy. But he seemed to be able to walk okay.”
“Can he come out? I’ll try and keep him calm.”
“Of course. You sit on the couch, and I’ll let him out, okay?”
Max is so thrilled to see his mistress that he bounds out of the crate in a way that makes me wince. But as soon as he reaches her, she gives him a command, “Down.” Within a second, he’s lying at her feet.
Sliding off the couch, she sits on the floor beside him, her face buried in his fur, her body shaking. When she looks up, tears are falling down her face. She sniffs loudly. “I didn’t let myself believe he’d be alright. Is he going to make a full recovery?”
“Looks that way,” I reply, sinking to my haunches beside the pair. “James’ note said he’s coming on really well.”
She can’t stop touching Max. I eye her carefully, then place a box of tissues beside her, remembering to tell her they’re by her left hand. She’s not going to want to leave him anytime soon.
“I’ll go start dinner. You stay here with Max.”
I don’t need to tell her twice. Thinking that food will probably be the last thing on her mind, I defrost some chilli I find in the freezer, then heat it along with some rice. After plating it I take it back into the main room.
“Mmm. Smells good.” Her nose wrinkles in appreciation. “Thanks Beef.”
“It’s not much. You want it there?”
She eases herself back onto the couch and holds out her hand to take it. Well-trained dog that he is, he wags his tail, licks his lips, but Max stays put. When I sit down beside her, he inches over so he’s lying against my feet as well as hers. Guess he’s adopted me too.
“Where’s Max’s food?”
“Prospects brought it. Load of shit lying over there. Collar and lead. No harne
ss, but he won’t be up to working for a while yet.”
“I know that. But at least he’s here and with me.”
She’s still pleased and excited, while I view Max with a frown. I’m delighted she’s happy but seeing Max on the road to recovery just reminds me that as soon as he’s able to guide her again, it will be time to say goodbye. I don’t say anything though. The dog’s still got some way to go yet. I can enjoy this idyllic interlude for a while longer. It’s just an unwelcome reminder that I’m one step closer to losing her.
When we’ve finished eating, she insists on taking our plates and washing them. I watch her walk away, accepting at some point she’ll disappear forever.
My arms itch to hold her again, but I can’t. If it’s that difficult to imagine her leaving as it is, if I allow myself to get close to her again, I won’t want to let her go at all.
Stevie wants to do everything she can for Max herself. She knows about his needs far more than I do. After cleaning up, she takes him outside, the dog limping along by the side of the woman finding her way with the stick I’d made, while I’m hovering close by in case she needs help. I’m intrigued by the practicalities.
“Get busy,” she says.
Max immediately squats. Stevie reaches her hand down and strokes his back.
“I thought male dogs cocked their legs,” I observe, having seen Grunt water the plants back in Tucson more times than I can remember.
“Guide dogs are trained to squat.”
“And you touch him, why?” It seems overly invasive to me.
“So I can tell whether I need a bag. I know he’s peeing now as his back is straight. If he was having a poo then it would be curved, and I’d be ready to scoop it up. Normal dogs don’t like being touched when they’re doing their business, but he’s been trained to accept it.”
Clever. I nod admiringly.
“This is why not all blind people want the hassle of having a dog. Owning a dog anyway is a responsibility, but it is harder when you can’t see. Max pays me back a thousand times over. If cleaning up after him is my payment in return, it’s the least I can do.” She raises her head, and sniffs the air. “Storm coming. I can smell the ozone.”
Satan's Devils MC Colorado Boxset 1 Books 1 - 3 Page 92