by Wilder, L.
Once he was gone, I made myself busy around the store, which wasn’t exactly difficult since I was there alone. After I dealt with the few customers who came strolling in, I checked the time and realized I only had a half hour until closing time. I was suddenly overcome with nerves and excitement, and I was eager to get upstairs so I could start preparing dinner. I rushed around the place, picking up trash and putting away stray books, and when I got to the back of the store, I was surprised to see that Shadow’s coffee cup and book were still sitting on the side table. With everything that had happened outside, he must’ve forgotten to put his things away, so I went over and placed the cup in the trash. I reached for the book he’d been reading and stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed the title—Getting Past Your Past, a New York Times bestselling book on how to deal with PTSD. I was beyond stunned, and as I stood there staring at that cover, I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chosen that particular genre. Was it just a fluke, or did he really have a traumatic past that he was trying to deal with?
That thought lingered in my head as I finished closing the store and headed upstairs. I was lost in my own thoughts as I searched the refrigerator and cabinets, looking for all the ingredients I’d need for Hallie’s lasagna recipe. It was one of my all-time favorites and something that wouldn’t be hard to warm up if he was late getting there. After I had everything prepared, I straightened up the apartment and headed for the shower. That’s when it hit me. As I stood there trying to decide what to wear, my nerves started to set in and I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that Jason had said. Then, I thought about the book he’d been reading and the fact that I really didn’t know anything about him, and I started to wonder if maybe Jason had been right about everything. But then, I remembered the way he looked at me in Newman’s parking lot and again in the alley behind the bookstore. That look was filled with enough intensity to melt the clothes right off of my body, and I couldn’t deny it. I liked it. I liked it a lot. I’d only read about moments like that in romance novels, but I never expected it to happen to me, and just thinking about it brought butterflies to my stomach. Maybe I was wrong when I told Jason that I didn’t have a thing for Shadow. Maybe I was very, very wrong.
CHAPTER 7
Shadow
When I got back to the clubhouse, I grabbed my recent purchase from the hardware store out of my saddlebag and headed to see Hoss. As I’d hoped, the minute I opened the door and saw him hanging there in the same position we’d left him, all my thoughts about Alex quickly disappeared. Just as it should be, my focus was solely on him and the information I needed him to divulge. I knew Gus and the rest of my brothers were counting on me, and there was no way I was going to let them down. When I stepped inside the room, the heat was so overwhelming that it was difficult to breathe, and the foul stench only made it worse. I looked over to Hoss and wasn’t surprised to see that his clothes were soaked with sweat, and his wrists were bruised and bleeding from the long night of trying to keep himself upright. He was barely able to keep his eyes open as he swayed back, letting the chains pull taut as they kept him from falling. The guy was barely hanging on, and I hadn’t even touched him.
I walked over to the corner of the room and grabbed an old wooden chair with a wicker seat. I placed it behind him, then walked over to the wall and loosened one of his restraints just enough for him to sit. With a pain-filled groan, he collapsed into the chair and his entire body went limp. I stepped over to him and snickered. “Morning, Hoss. You have a good night?”
His voice was weak and barely coherent, but he managed to reply, “Fuck you, asshole.”
“I’ll take that as a no.” I opened a bottle of water and took a long drag before extending it out in front of his face. “You thirsty?”
Sweat trickled down from his brow as he pleaded, “Please!”
I shook the bottle above his head, and when he opened his mouth, I poured several drops over his tongue—just enough to make him desperate for more. “There’s plenty more … You want it? All you have to do is tell me where I can find Jasper.”
“Can’t tell you that.”
His eyes locked on the water bottle as I brought it up to my mouth and took another drink. “And why is that?”
“Cause if I talk, I’m as good as dead.”
“What makes you think you’re not already?” I motioned my hands around the room as I continued, “I mean, come on, man. From the looks of things, you’re chances of getting out of here alive are pretty fucking slim.”
“I’d rather take my chances here.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
“I gotta say … that takes balls, Hoss.” I walked over to the wall and pulled on the chain connected to his wrist, forcing him back into a standing position. “Not exactly smart, but it takes balls.”
I spent the next several hours trying an assortment of strategies to get him to talk, but he refused. I wasn’t surprised. Like me, he’d been trained to keep his mouth shut, but my patience was wearing thin. I had plans that I wanted to keep, so I decided it was time to take it to the next level. I had something special planned for him, something that might just make him reconsider his stance on keeping quiet. His eyes were damn near swollen shut and his entire body was covered in bruises and blood as he watched me remove my pocketknife from my back pocket. When I reached for the chair and started cutting out the wicker seating, he asked, “What are you doing?”
I continued to cut away at the seat, making a large oval hole, much like a toilet seat, as I explained, “You know … there’s a lot of interesting things about the Dutch. Dutch men are among the tallest in the world, they are the largest beer exporter, and the largest black licorice consumer on the planet. Amsterdam was built on poles, and they serve mayonnaise with their French fries. Crazy, right?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the Dutch, Hoss. Haven’t you been listening?” I tossed the remains of the seat on the floor, then slid the chair back into its previous position behind Hoss. Once I had everything ready, I reached for my phone and sent a text message to Gus, requesting the assistance of a couple of prospects. “The Dutch are also famous for a particular technique they’ve acquired for extracting information.”
His eyes widened as he tugged at his restraints, trying once again to break free. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Before I had a chance to answer, two of our newest prospects came into the room and got Hoss settled in the chair. Once they were gone, I walked over and grabbed my latest purchase off of the table: a long rope with an eight-pound weight attached to the end of it, and let it swing slowly at my side. “I’m not gonna lie to you. This here, Hoss? This shit is gonna hurt.”
With pure horror in his eyes, he shrieked, “What are you gonna do?”
It didn’t take long for him to find out the answer to that question, and in no time at all, he started running his chops, telling me what he knew about Jasper and his whereabouts. With his head hanging low, he muttered, “The last I heard, he was hiding out in some warehouse downtown.”
“Why he’s hiding?”
“Figure he’s gotten in over his head.”
“Gonna need more than that.”
“You know Jasper’s always done alright for himself, but he’s never made it big. Now, all the sudden, he’s spending all this dough to get your dealers off the streets. You ain’t gotta be the sharpest tool in the shed to know he didn’t come up with that idea or the money on his own.”
“Then, whose money is it?”
“Fuck if I know. Just know this guy must be the real fucking deal. Jasper paid Tibbs to take care of one of your guys, and when he failed to follow through, Tibbs ended up gutted … and I mean gutted like a goddamn deer, man. It was all kinds of fucked up. Jasper ain’t got the balls for that shit, but this guy … whoever he is, he don’t take shit off nobody and has the kind of money to make things happen.”
“Wh
ere do you fit into all this?”
“That’s just it. I don’t. Jasper fucking cut me off. Said he didn’t need my services anymore, which wasn’t no sweat off my back. Figure I don’t need that kind of hassle, but fuck, I know I’m just living on borrowed time.”
“You know too much.”
“Damn straight,” he sighed. “It’s only a matter of time before they try to end me, too.”
Hearing that made it easier to understand why Hoss was so hesitant to break his silence. He didn’t want to give them any more reasons for coming after him. “Gonna need to know which warehouse, Hoss.”
He paused for a moment, then replied, “If there’s anyone who knows the answer to that, it’s gonna be Milton.”
“His cousin?”
“Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call him,” Hoss scoffed. “Milton is a deranged motherfucker, man. He seems like a flaming homo and all that shit, and from what I can tell he is, but there’s another side to him. That fucker is crazy as shit. Just as soon slit your throat and shove your dick down it than take any shit off ya, and not to knock what you got going here, but that psycho would just a soon die as to run his mouth on Jasper. If it was me … I’d save myself some time and just put eyes on him. It won’t be no time before he’ll lead you to Jasper.”
With that, I headed towards the door. Right before I walked out, Hoss shouted, “Hey, man! You gonna leave me here like this?”
I turned and looked at him in his exposed state and simply shook my head as I headed out the door, slamming it behind me. Hoss wasn’t going anywhere until we found Jasper. On my way down to Gus’s office, I checked the time and saw that it was already after seven. Alex was waiting for me, and I could almost picture her in that little apartment making a nice dinner for the two of us. I’d never had anyone do anything like that for me, and even though it was wrong, I found myself looking forward to seeing her, to feeling that sense of ease whenever she was around—especially after my long day with Hoss.
I knocked on Gus’s door, and once he’d given me the go ahead, I stepped inside. He looked up at me with a fierce expression and asked, “Got any news?”
“Got a lead on Jasper.”
“Good. Whatcha got?”
“We need to get eyes on his cousin, Milton. He’s our key to finding him.”
He crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re telling me that his right hand man didn’t know where to find him?”
After I shared everything Hoss had told me, I said, “I can get him to talk,” I assured him.
He nodded. “I have no doubt about that, son. None whatsoever.”
“Then, it’s your call. We can bring Milton in, or we put eyes on him.”
“If what Hoss said is true, we’d save us all some time and trouble by just putting eyes on him.” He reached for his phone as he said, “I’ll get Riggs and Murphy on it now.”
“Let me know when they find him. I’m heading out for a couple of hours, but I’ll be close if you need me.”
“Will do.”
With a quick nod I turned to leave, satisfied that my president knew if the time came when he or the others needed me, I’d be there. As I headed to my room, I reached in my back pocket for Alex’s number, then sent her a message, letting her know I’d be there in half an hour. Once she’d replied, I took a shower and threw on some fresh clothes. After I pulled on my boots, I headed out to my bike and cranked the engine, hoping that the ride over would help clear my head. While it did to some extent, I still felt a heaviness weighing down on me when I pulled up to her curb. At first I thought it was everything that was going on with the club, but as I started towards her door, it hit me. The weight I felt pressing down on my chest was my fucking nerves, and it took me by complete surprise. Over the years, I’d felt a wide assortment of feelings: mostly anger, resentment, hatred, and regret, but nervousness was an emotion that I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. I didn’t like it—not one fucking bit. I tried my best to pull my shit together, then I rang the buzzer like she’d told me; seconds later, I heard her footsteps coming down the stairs. The door eased open, and the mere sight her nearly took my breath. She looked absolutely stunning. Her long, dark hair was down around her shoulders, and she was wearing a pair of cutoff denim shorts with a fitted, dark-colored, V-neck t-shirt.
With a welcoming smile, she said, “You made it!”
“Sorry, it’s so late.”
“Don’t be silly. You aren’t late at all.” Then, she motioned for me to follow. “Come on up.”
I followed her up the stairs and couldn’t help but notice that just like the store, there was little to protect her from the outside world. The locks on the front door were much like the back—old and damn near useless, and the lights in the exterior hall were dim, making it difficult to see. As we reached her apartment door, I was disappointed to find that the doorknob was loose, and there was no sign of a deadbolt of any kind. My need to protect this woman I barely knew seemed odd to me, but nonetheless the feeling was there. She eased the door open, and the delicious scent of Italian food made my stomach start to rumble from hunger. I followed her inside and was surprised to see how big her place was. It was an open studio apartment with exposed brick on the walls and large beams and pipes sprawled across the ceiling. While it hadn’t been updated, it was much like the bookstore downstairs and had a very comfortable feeling to it. As I glanced around the room, I noticed it had all the necessities—a living room in one corner with an oversized sofa and chair, and a large kitchen right next to it. The dark cherry cabinets were tall, almost reaching the ceiling, and even though the appliances were dated, they added a bit of charm to the place. In the back corner, there was a small wall that offered little, but just enough, privacy to her bedroom. I knew studio apartments like this ran pretty steep in a city like Memphis, and with her only income coming from the bookstore, I couldn’t help but wonder how she could afford it. Regardless, it suited her, and as I watched her walk into the kitchen, I told her, “Nice place.”
She took a large bowl out of the refrigerator and replied, “Thank you. My … uh … grandmother left the apartment and the bookstore to me when she died last year.”
“Hallie … Bookstore Hallie was your grandmother?”
Suddenly, a strange look crossed her face. “Yes. At least in every way that counts, she was.”
“I always thought a lot of her.”
“You knew Hallie?”
“Yeah. We crossed paths a time or two. She was one of those rare people who didn’t judge a book by its cover.”
She smiled. “No, she didn’t. She gave everybody a chance and always managed to find something good about everyone she met.”
“Even us bikers.”
“Yes. Even bikers,” she giggled.
I walked over to her and asked, “Need a hand?”
“Umm … You could put some ice in the glasses. They’re in the cabinet beside the sink, on the left, and the sweet tea is in the fridge. I also have a beer or two in there if you’d rather have that.”
I nodded, then headed over to the cabinet for the glasses. As I made our drinks, she went over to the stove and pulled out a large pan of lasagna and garlic toast. I leaned towards the food to get a better glimpse. “Looks good.”
“Hopefully, it’ll taste as good as it looks.”
After she’d fixed us both a plate, I helped her bring everything over to the table, and once we were settled, we both started eating. Neither of us spoke, but the silence didn’t bother me. It was something I’d become accustomed to. She, on the other hand, wasn’t. I could tell by the way she was fidgeting that she was feeling uncomfortable, which started to make me feel the same way right along with her. I wanted to be normal for her, to be the kind of man that she deserved, but I knew that just wasn’t possible. I wasn’t that man, and even if I could change, I simply didn’t know how. I would need help to change, and unbeknownst to me, I was about to get my first and most memorable lesson. After taking a
sip of her tea, she shifted in her seat and asked, “So, what made you decide that you wanted to join Satan’s Fury? Was it just because of the motorcycles, or did you like the idea of being part of a gang?”
“Satan’s Fury isn’t a gang. It’s a club.”
Clearly unnerved by my response, she started to ramble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by the gang comment. I don’t really know much about motorcycle clubs and what they’re all about. I’m sure there are lots of differences between you and all those gangs that are around here.”
“I guess some would say we have our similarities, but we consider ourselves family and we give our all to the club, even if that means putting our lives on the line.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm … Lives on the line? So, I guess some of the stories I’ve heard about Satan’s Fury are true.”
“Depends on what you’ve heard.”
“That’s a vague response.”
I shrugged. “I’ll tell you this … As a member of the club, I always know my brothers have my back, no matter what the circumstance.”
“I guess that would be kind of nice. Hallie was always that for me. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me, and I really miss having that. I have Jason and his sister, Daphne, but it just isn’t the same.”
My back stiffened at the sound of Jason’s name. I’d never considered the fact that Alex might have a boyfriend, and while the feeling might’ve been irrational, the thought of her in another man’s arms annoyed the hell out of me. I tried to keep my cool as I asked, “Jason?”
“Oh … where do I start?” A smile spread across her face as she continued, “Jason and I met a year or so after I moved here, and I guess we just kind of hit it off. We started hanging out, and it wasn’t long before we were together all the time.”
It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, but seeing that he made her happy made it somewhat easier to bear. “You seem to care a lot about him.”