Strong and Steady

by Vanessa Vale

  “You’ll have to tell me how the two of you are pals someday,” I said.

  I heard a chuckle through the phone. “The MC’s got a big reach.”

  As if that explained it all.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Talked with Emory and invited both of you to the Double-B for dinner. She’s coming with friends. Told me they’re spending the day together. Nice job with the babysitters.”

  I was trying to keep up. I knew of Quake and the No Holds Barred MC, knew of their dealings, and it was more than just the Early Bird Special and a slice of homemade pie. From the way my dad was reacting, he knew about them, too.

  “If she’s accepted, then I’ll be there,” I replied. I didn’t want to say Emory’s name in front of my dad, so I kept it neutral. I didn’t want him to know jack shit about her.

  “Good. Ask your pops if he wants to come too.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I had no interest, ever, in eating a meal with my dad, but Quake had a reason for it. “Quake Baker wants to know if you want to join me for dinner tonight at his diner.”

  Dad turned to look up at me, and he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. This was the first time—ever—I had seen him weak and vulnerable. He cleared his throat. “Tell him thanks, but I’ll be staying at the ranch.”

  “He offers his regrets,” I told Quake.

  “Yeah, figured. Guessing your meeting’s over, so you should be back in time to get your girl. Later.”

  I tucked my phone in my pocket and settled my hands back on my hips, waiting to see if my dad was going to say anything else. He sat there, shoulders slumped, skin orange and pale all at the same time. I saw him for what he really was. An old, pathetic man. He hadn't sent a man after Emory. It wasn't his deal. All he did was taunt, to fuck with me. He didn't have the balls to do more than that. He might be a powerful businessman, might own a huge swath of the state, but he had nothing on me. Nothing. I could deal with whatever shit he tossed my way, but it seemed I had an ally all of a sudden with Quake Baker. I had no idea what the fuck he had on my dad, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my dad at all.

  “We’re done here,” I said, my voice hard. “We’re done, period. Leave me the fuck alone and you stay away from Emory. You forget she even exists. I’d be happy to beat the shit out of you, and I’m sure Quake will be thrilled to hide your body.” I leaned forward, so he could hear me clearly over the din of the casino. “You think I care what you do? I don’t think about you at all.”

  I shook my head and looked at my dad one last time. I wasn’t trying to remember, I was trying to forget.

  23

  GRAY

  * * *

  I got caught in traffic just over the state line, some semi had jackknifed and brought the highway to a standstill, so I had to meet Emory, Christy and Paul at the diner. I’d spent the extra hour in the car thinking about Quake’s hold on my dad and the reason for the meal.

  Quake himself met me by the hostess stand. He looked out of place in the restaurant, but I wasn’t going to say shit about it. I shook his hand, and he clapped me on the shoulder. “Had a good chat with your pops?”

  “I didn’t realize you two were friends,” I countered. I was eager to get to Emory, so it was difficult to talk it up. But he was concerned for her, and so I owed him respect. And he had something over my dad. That made him my new buddy.

  He offered a small shrug. “Friends? Fuck no. We have… an understanding. Even though he’s your pops, I doubt he’ll be a pain in the ass any longer.”

  I narrowed my eyes and felt threatened. I wouldn’t put it past my dad to fuck with someone connected to the MC, but a guy like Quake didn’t do get involved in petty shit like this without wanting something in return.

  “What do you want? I have no intention of having my fighter blow the fight or a fight three years down the road when it suits your needs. I don’t need a partner in my business.” I tried to keep my voice even. My father was an enemy… I understood. Quake was in a completely different league.

  He shook his head, kept his hand on my shoulder. “The Wyoming No Holds Barred is keeping an eye on him. Whether he remains dead or alive is his choice.”

  So he pissed someone off. Not a surprise. I had no idea what he’d done to have an MC mad, and I didn’t want to know.

  “You’re confused,” he continued. “Emory is in love with you…therefore I reminded your father of a few things. If Emory’s happy, I’m happy.”

  An MC president playing matchmaker?

  “She’s… she’s not in love with me.” I could hear the surprise, the uncertainty in my voice. “We met last week.”

  While I said the words, I knew them to be empty. Time didn’t seem to make a difference when it came to me and Emory. It was as if I’d known her forever, yet everything was brand new.

  The older man laughed, slapped me on the back and pushed me around the corner, so I could see Emory sitting at the booth chatting with Christy and Paul. She hadn’t seen me yet.

  “Keep her happy,” he said, as we both watched her. His voice was like gravel and laced with dark promise. “Or you’ll be dealing with a bunch of unhappy bikers. Wouldn’t want that, right?”

  I nodded. It was all I could do because the sight of her was like the worst sucker punch I’d ever taken. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move—not because I was afraid of Quake’s threats.

  Emory was the only one who could destroy me. I couldn’t do anything but wonder why she was the least bit interested in me. When she glanced up and saw me, she tilted her head and gave me the most perfect smile. Her eyes brightened with what I hoped was pleasure and excitement, and it was all for me.

  I was thankful for the second not-so-small nudge the older man gave to my shoulder, prodding me to move toward the table. She stood and met me halfway, taking my hand as she leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Hi,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

  Those words, fuck, they were the best thing I’d ever heard. This woman had missed me. I wanted to think it was love that made her eyes bright, made her smile so broad. I couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across my face, but I had to put my hands on her shoulders and get a look at her. She wore a sundress, a bright blue that was soft and flowing and hit just above the knee. On her feet were a pair of sexy high heels, and she wore makeup. Gone was the girl next door I woke up to, and in her place was, shit, a siren. She'd pulled me in all right, and I never wanted to leave. I closed my mouth and hoped to hell I wasn’t drooling.

  “You look… incredible,” I whispered when I kissed her forehead.

  She grinned at me, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Sit. Quake’s brought us wine.”

  Wine? Quake? I was all out of surprises for one night.

  I held out Emory’s chair for her then shook Paul’s hand, said hello to Christy. Took my hat off and hooked it on my chair. “I see you took care of my girl.”

  Glancing at Emory, I saw her blush. I loved that I could do that to her.

  “If that means being dragged to the mall for dress shopping, then yes, I took care of your girl,” Paul replied.

  “Are you okay with wine or do you want water? Iced tea?” Emory remembered I’d said I didn’t drink anymore.

  “Water.”

  She put the bottle down then pushed her water glass toward me. “I only had the clothes I put in my bag last night. I couldn’t go out on a double date wearing shorts and a T-shirt.”

  She could’ve, and I wouldn’t have minded. While she looked stunning, I liked her best when she was naked. Or in just my T-shirt knowing all that soft skin was beneath. I knew enough about women to know now was not the time to tell her that. I would later when she was naked.

  “I’m a lawyer,” Paul said. “I know I have a painful, boring job, but I’d rather go through a two-day deposition than to go through that experience again. Have you ever been in the lingerie department before?”

  I didn’t know if I should commis
erate with Paul over that scary task or get turned on by the idea of Emory picking out something super sexy. I turned and eyed her, wishing I had x-ray vision and could see what she had on beneath the dress, but she smiled sweetly at me, giving nothing away.

  I reached for the water and took a big gulp. As Christy and Paul commented about something on the menu, Emory leaned in, her voice low enough so only I could hear. “It’s pink.”

  I turned my head, so our mouths were inches apart. “Pink?”

  “And lacy.”

  My mouth fell open when I realized what she was talking about. She grinned wickedly and picked up her own menu. Turnabout was fair play, so I put my hands in my lap, then moved my right hand until it rested on her thigh, my thumb slowly inching the hem of her dress upward.

  Emory stiffened, but didn’t stop me. Well, she stopped me with her hand firmly on top of mine when I got close to feeling whether her panties were lacy or not. I never really intended to do anything in the middle of a diner, especially with an overprotective MC president around somewhere, but I wanted to see how far she’d let me. And hell, now that my fingers were caressing the tender skin of her inner thigh, I wasn’t planning on moving it. I would eat left handed. I just had to pick something from the menu that didn’t involve using a knife.

  24

  EMORY

  * * *

  Quake, in his black boots, jeans and black T-shirt came to the table instead of the waiter. “What can I get you?”

  I ordered first, which was good because I couldn’t concentrate with Gray’s hand on my thigh. I wasn’t going to remember I wanted the Chicken Pot Pie, let alone my name, in a few minutes. It settled just shy of my panties, his thumb moving slowly back and forth, as if telling me he wasn’t going any farther and that he liked that spot just fine.

  I liked the spot just fine too, but it had gotten awfully hot in the restaurant, and my new pink panties were noticeably wetter than when I first arrived. Gray did nothing untoward or inappropriate the entire meal, but I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t move his hand. In fact, he ate left handed. The idea that he didn’t want to let go of my leg had me feeling… giddy. It was a real first date—a restaurant, a dress—although we did have chaperones, including Quake. If they knew about the inappropriate hand placement under the table, they didn’t let on.

  It was only when after our plates were cleared and Quake pulled up a chair, spun it around and sat down in it backwards at the end of the table, did Gray move his hand. It seemed neither of us wanted the distraction for whatever the man had to say.

  “I heard someone is mad at you for not giving him drugs.”

  Quake was looking at me and didn’t waste time by mincing words. Everyone else glanced at me as well. Drugs? Me? “What are you talking about?”

  He rubbed a hand over his beard. “You work at the free clinic?”

  I nodded. “On Saturday mornings, yes.”

  “You prescribe pain meds?”

  “Yes.”

  Gray took my hand in his, gave it a squeeze.

  “You’ve cut off someone’s supply, and they aren’t happy.”

  My mouth fell open as I processed his words. “God, at first I thought you were accusing me of being a drug dealer, peddling meth on the street corner to little kids.” I sighed. “I write prescriptions for pain pills all the time. It could be any number of people.”

  Quake tugged on the end of his beard as if it were something he did while thinking. “This person, I’ve found out, hurts women, so they’re seen at the clinic and get pain meds. Then keeps it for himself.”

  “What does this have to do with Emory?” Gray asked.

  “Rumor is they want her keys to the clinic to get more.”

  I glanced at Paul and Christy, who were listening carefully, confusion and surprise on their faces.

  “I can’t get into the meds,” I told him. “That’s not how it works. Most meds are filled at pharmacies. Some things we have, but the clinic has this big machine that requires a password. Each person has their own access number. It’s a big pill vault and has a computer connected to it to dispense only the number of pills in the order. It’s not like it gives me a bottle of Oxy, and I can take as many as I want. As for the people who want a key, there is no key.”

  “There’s one in each department at the hospital as well. It’s strictly monitored and doesn't have all medications,” Christy added. “Like Emory said, the pharmacy in the basement has the bulk of the meds.”

  I nodded at Christy's words. “It keeps nurses and doctors from stealing and keeps records of what goes in and out. Harder stuff is delivered direct from the hospital pharmacy. At the clinic, there are no serious meds like morphine because we'd transfer them to the ER if they were needed.”

  “Then he just wants the prescriptions, most likely the women get them filled, and he takes the meds from them,” Quake said. From his tone, he didn’t sound happy. “Either way, you’ve cut off his supply… or one of them. Did you deny drugs to anyone recently?”

  I thought back over the past month or so at the clinic then remembered the woman from last weekend. Broken rib. I’d given her a script for pain pills twice before, but that was more than enough for her recuperation time. Had this man broken her rib just so he could get the pain meds for himself? What was her name? Alice something.

  “There was a woman last weekend,” I replied. “Broken rib and wanted more pain meds, but I didn't give her a refill. I can’t tell you her name. Confidentiality laws.”

  Quake held up his hands. “I don’t need the name, just word that this scenario is possible. I’ll take care of this.”

  I didn’t know how he’d take care of this. It most likely involved breaking laws and a bullet to the back of a head. I really didn’t want to know.

  “If this guy’s been doing this for a while, he’s got to know we don’t have pills at the clinic. So why break into my house? I have nothing for him there.”

  Quake shrugged. “I didn’t say this person was smart, just mad.”

  “Have you told this to the police?” Paul asked Quake.

  I leaned in. “Some dumb guy hooked on pain meds broke into my house and wanted to hurt me!” I kept my voice down but couldn’t keep the anger from it. It was my turn to grip Gray's hand. “I climbed down a Boy Scout ladder in my pajamas all because of pain med prescriptions?”

  “We just met, so you don’t know my reach,” Quake continued.

  Since he was the president of a motorcycle club, I had an idea.

  “Your club donates to the clinic where Emory volunteers,” Christy said. All eyes turned to her in surprise. I didn’t know that little gem of information, and I worked at the place. “I’m Director of Community Relations at the hospital. I know all about this stuff.”

  I used to work in administration but on a nursing level, not the same pay scale as Christy. It was news to me.

  “My daughter went to the clinic for help when she thought she couldn’t come to me. Saved her life.” Quake cleared his throat and didn’t say more. I saw a glimpse of pain, a hint of softness beneath that hard exterior. He looked to me, those dark eyes shrewd and fierce. “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”

  “With all due respect,” Gray began, but Quake held up his hand to stop him.

  “Your problem is keeping Emory happy. No one fu—screws with what’s under my protection. The club’s protection. He is my problem.”

  By the look on his face now, the tone of his voice, I knew this was the real Quake Baker. He might have been older, he might have a grandson, but he was not someone I wanted to mess with. And with an entire MC behind him…

  “What do I do now?” I asked.

  “This… problem will be taken care of. Tonight.” His words were sharp and edgy. Lethal. “Stay with your man.” Quake indicated Gray with the tilt of his chin, and I flushed. “Have him take you to your yoga class in the morning then spend the day together. Forget about this. I’ll call when it’s over.”
<
br />   Quake was serious. If it had been anyone else, I’d have laughed. Gray lived in a darker world than me, knew how to fight, knew men who liked to fight. He wasn’t laughing either but instead leaned forward, forearms resting on the table and narrowed his eyes.

  “Not a chance. I’m going with you.” When Quake was about to speak, Gray pushed on. “You didn’t see the flimsy ladder she tossed out her window to escape. You didn’t hear her on the phone when she was hiding from the guy. You didn’t have to drive across town to get to her. I’d never felt more helpless in my life knowing someone was after her, and I couldn't protect her.” With every word his jaw clenched tight, his body tensed, his voice turned dark.

  I melted a little inside at the thought of what Gray had gone through when I’d called him. I couldn’t imagine a similar phone call and not want to seek retribution.

  “I want to know this man’s off the streets.” Gray sat back, put his arm along the back of my chair, and I felt his thumb stroke over my back. Even with all his obvious hostility, the touch was gentle.

  I turned in my chair to face him. “I don’t want you hurt.”

  He swiveled his head toward me, his dark eyes holding mine. “I’m not the one who’s going to get hurt.”

  A frisson of fear shot through me. This was the fighter part of Gray I hadn’t seen before. “Then I’m going with you.”

  Both men chimed in at once. Even Paul shook his head.

  “No fucking—” Quake began, but Gray cut him off as he kept his eyes focused on me.

  “I can’t do this and worry about you.” Those dark, dark eyes bored into me. The intensity there was for seeing justice done, for protecting what belonged to him. I belonged to him. “Go with Paul and Christy. They’ll take you to my apartment, and you can wait for me there.”