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Bared: Dirty Cruisers MC Page 14
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Page 14
“What was what?” Elle asked, turning towards her best friend, her voice still distant and distracted.
“What was that kiss?” Carla all but shrieked the question as she grabbed Elle’s hands and pulled her over until they were both sitting in two overstuffed armchairs, “With Honey!”
“I know it was with Honey. I was there, you know,” Elle said softly, flustered once more.
“But…but…you! And Honey!”
“It’s not– Carla, wait a minute. It’s not me and Honey,” Elle trailed off, and then finally shrugged in defeat, “Okay, maybe it is, but–”
“I knew it! I knew from the first night that you two met and you threw your drink in Honey’s face that there was something between you. Oh, I’m so happy for you!” Carla leaned forward and gave Elle a quick, sisterly hug.
“It’s not…I mean, it’s not official or anything, or at least I don’t think it is.”
“That kiss looked pretty official, Elle. It looked…nice,” Carla tilted her head to one side, “That was Honey right? Our Honey? Because he’s a lot of things but nice isn’t really one of them.”
“I know. It was Honey. It was definitely him, but, I don’t know. After last night–”
“Oh my god. What happened last night?” Carla asked with a sly grin, leaning forward intently.
“Well, we, uh–”
She was saved from having to answer as the morning air was filled with the roar of a loud motorcycle engine revving just outside.
“That must be Joel…” Elle started before the sound of raised, angry voices reached them from inside the office. She watched Carla jump up and peek out the front window. When she turned back to Elle, her expression was hard and fearful.
“It’s not Joel,” Carla said, throwing the words over her shoulder as she rushed outside, Elle following just a few steps behind her.
Chapter 19
Carla stuttered to a halt and Elle almost careened into her as they both took in the scene that awaited them outside. Whoever had pulled up on the motorcycled was tall, and big like a body builder, his muscles bulging inside the sleeves of his patch covered leather jacket. He wore a dark helmet and as he took it off it revealed lank, greasy medium brown hair and a bandana that covered the bottom half of his face. The sunglass concealed the rest. It was most definitely not Joel.
And standing directly in his path, was Honey. The stranger was still on his motorcycle, his head moving as he scanned over them and even with the sunglasses Elle felt a shiver pass through her as that gaze landed on her. It seemed to hold for an extra moment longer than all the rest, and Honey seemed to notice.
“Hey, asshole,” he said, his voice sounding insolent and casual but Elle knew him enough to hear the strain underneath, the violence just barely leashed, waiting to lash out at a moment’s notice.
“Who you calling asshole, you fucking hillbilly farmer?” The man’s voice was low and deep and spoke of a complete uncaring. It wasn’t like Honey, who used the casualness as a mask, his was real. Elle could hear it in his tone, could feel it in the way he sat on his motorcycle with out a care in the world. As if he hadn’t just ridden into the business of a rival motorcycle gang. Because that’s what he was doing. And he wasn’t even the least little bit worried about it. And that fact worried Elle a lot. And she could tell it worried Carla too, by the little crease that formed between her dark eyebrows and the way her blue eyes never left the tableau playing out in front of them.
“I’m calling you an asshole, and a coward at that. You couldn’t handle going to the clubhouse where you might be outgunned and outnumbered? No, you had to come here, where the only fight you’re going to get is from these women. Bet you weren’t planning on me being here, were ya?” Honey spit out the words, taking a threatening step closer and Elle held her breath as the man on the bike threw one leg over and stood. He was at least six inches taller than Honey, and twice as wide and his fists were like bricks of concrete as he clenched them, taking a step towards them.
“I came here because I have a message to deliver. From the president of the Nomads,” the brute said, his voice a little more strained now and Elle feared that Honey had pushed a button calling him a coward.
“Well, we don’t want to hear it, so…fuck off,” Honey growled back at him, raising both hands as he sent him the middle finger. Elle shifted nervously from where she stood just a few feet away, praying that Honey wouldn’t push the man too far.
“I think you really are going to want to hear it,” the biker said, crossing his massive arms over his chest as he stared down contemptuously at Honey, “A little pussy like you isn’t going to stop be from doing my job. I’ve got orders from the president himself.”
“Well you can take those orders and shove them right back up your president’s asshole where they came from–” Honey’s words cut off abruptly as he moved, faster than Elle even thought possible of a man with his bulk and size, grabbed the front of Honey’s own jacket and pulled him up until his feet were dangling inches off the ground and they were face to face.
Even with the glasses and bandana covering most of his face the vicious intent that passed over the man’s features was plain for Elle to read. Without thinking, she was rushing forward, ignoring Carla’s effort to stop her.
A moment later she reached up, pulling at Honey to try and get him loose but it was like wrestling with a machine, so she did the only other thing she could think of. She pushed herself in between the two men, tried to use all her strength to separate them but she might as well have been pushing on two boulders for all the effect she had.
“Hey! Hey, you! Look at me. Listen to me!” Elle shouted, trying to catch the massive brute’s attentions and when he turned his head to look down at her she almost regretted her decision.
“Please just, let him go and I– We’ll listen to your message, okay? Just, you have to put him down first.”
“Elle, what are you–”
“Shut up, Honey,” Elle hissed over her shoulder, her heart racing with fear and uncertainty as she turned back to the man who still looked intent on choking the life from Honey. She wasn’t about to let that happen, not if there was anything she could do to stop it.
“Why don’t we start over, okay?” she said, trying desperately to keep the trembling out of her voice as she forced a cheerful smile on her face, “My name is Elle. And you are?” She held out her hand, well, as much as she could as she was still squashed in between the two men but she could see some of the rage leave the man’s eyes and a curious disbelief start to take its place.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” he said gruffly.
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. You must be someone really important if your president trusted you to come out here with the message all by yourself. You should believe in yourself! Don’t talk down about yourself like that. When you do it often enough, you might just start to think that it’s true.”
He just stared at her blankly, that disbelief growing. Elle held her breath, her thoughts jumbled and panicked and she couldn’t’ think of anything to say that wasn’t even more ridiculous so she just stayed silent and smiled up at him for all she was worth.
Finally, he let go of Honey, shoving him back a few steps and sending a warning glance after him as Elle sighed in relief. Then he turned his gaze back to her and there was more than curiosity or disbelief in his gaze as he stared at her from behind the amber lens of the sunglasses.
“You’re funny,” he said softly, “But funny isn’t going to save you. Here’s my message. The president of the Nomads wants to make a deal with Honey Bud Farms and the Cruisers. He wants a cut of the weed you’re growing, at fifty percent cost. Or else there will be consequences.”
“Fifty percent!” Carla muttered in shock from behind her but Elle was too nervous to look back, too afraid to take her eyes off the giant biker in front of her.
“It’s not a request,” he said, and there was a sense of finality to the words that had another
chill of dread shivering through her. Without another word, he turned, got back on his bike, and road away back the way he had come. They all watched in tense silence until long after he had disappeared down the driveway.
***
It was a long moment before Honey could let out the breath he’d been holding ease painfully from his lungs. He felt like he hadn’t been able to draw in any air at all since Elle had put herself right in the middle of the two men. It was ridiculous, and fool hardy, and incredibly…stupid! It was the stupidest thing he’s ever seen! That she would put herself in danger without even realizing made his blood boil his veins. Elle had to learn an ounce of self preservation or one of these times that she risked herself she was going to end up seriously injured, or worse.
With anger pushing his feet forward, growing with every step, Honey stalked over to where Elle was standing, her arms wrapped around herself and her dark gaze staring off at into space with a distant look in her eyes. They widened in shock as he came to a hard stop just inches from touching her. He had to clench his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and shaking her for being so foolish, or the grab her and hold her close to him and never let go, he wasn’t sure which.
“Honey, I–”
“Don’t,” he interrupted harshly, his voice hard and full of anger as he spoke. He couldn’t help it. The picture of her standing in front of that asshole, so small and vulnerable, so easily injured kept playing through his mind like a record on repeat.
“What are you–”
“No, you don’t get to ask the questions here. I ask the questions,” he was so furious, so afraid for her, so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the way her brows lowered dangerously over her dark, fiery gaze, “What the hell were you thinking, Elle? That man could have killed you with a flick of his wrist.”
“But he didn’t–”
“Do you even realize how much danger you were in? How close you came to being hurt? And for what? I had everything perfectly under control,” he ignored Elle’s snort of disbelief as he kept talking, “there was no reason for you to do that. It was just…it was stupid! That was all it was. It was stupid and foolish and dangerous and you had no right to–”
“I had every right!” Elle cut in, finally breaking through his angry ranting, punctuating her words by stabbing a finger against his chest. Hard. “I had every right, Honey. I’ve told you before. I make my own choices! I’m not a doll that you can put up on a shelf somewhere and take down to play with when you want, and then put me back when you’re done. That’s not how it works!”
Elle took a step forward, each word driven home by that damned finger stabbing at him and he had no choice to take a step back, or else risk breaking a rib or two.
“I chose to step in,” stab, “I chose to take the risk,” stab, “I chose to save you! And if you aren’t man enough to admit it, that is not,” stab, “my,” stab, “problem!” Elle reached forward to stab him again but Honey grabbed her hand, holding it tight between his own.
“Ow, okay, okay. It’s your choice. I get it. Just, next time can you choose something a little less dangerous?”
“I might have just saved your life, Honey! And you can’t even muster a thank you? A ‘thanks’? A ‘good looking out, Elle, I really owe you one’?” She stared up at him waiting, but he couldn’t force out the words she wanted to hear. He was still too full of fear for her, fear that if he encouraged her she’d do something even more reckless next time. No, there wasn’t going to be a next time. He’d make sure of that. He’d keep her safe.
With a sigh of disgust Elle turned away, jerking her hand from his gasp. He reached out after her, desperately searching for what he could say, wondering how she turned the tables so neatly against him but was saved as Joel pulled up driving Carla’s truck, the back loaded with supplies he’d been out picking up.
As Joel walked closer he immediately picked up on the tension still very much present hanging in the air and he went straight to Carla. They were speaking too softly for Honey to overhear but he could imagine the conversation. Carla was telling him about the message from the Nomad’s president and by the look that drew over his face, Joel was none too pleased by the news.
With a muttered curse, Joel jogged over to where Honey still stood, waving for Carla to join them and after a minute, Elle reluctantly came closer as well.
“Carla told me what happened. From her description, it sounds like Scorpion, the Nomad president’s right hand man. If he’s involved, then they’re serious.” Joel stopped, shaking his head and Honey could practically see the gears turning in his mind, working quickly on this new potentially very, very bad situation that had been dumped in their lap.
It was one of the qualities that made him such a good leader himself. He could assess fast, and adapt, improvising when things changed. Because something always went wrong, Honey thought glancing sideways at Elle, who refused to meet his look, always.
“Alright, this is what’s going to happen. I’ll call Hot Wheels. She’s been in talks with the Nomad’s to try and keep them off our backs. She knows them. They know her. Honey, you go with her to the Nomad’s house and make sure nothing goes south–”
“I can’t, Joel. Somebody should stay here, I mean. Someone has to keep El– I mean, everybody safe,” Honey looked up at his friend, pleading in his gaze to understand. Finally, Joel nodded, his quick silver eyes flicking towards Elle for the briefest of seconds before turning back.
“Okay, Honey will stay here. Hot Wheels can take care of herself. But we need to show those pricks that we won’t give in to threats. I have a few people I can talk to, people who are still loyal to the Dirty Cruisers,” he grimaced at that, but continued, “Carla, Elle, you guys stay here. It has to be business as usual. We can’t let them slow us down, not with our first big contract coming due next week. We don’t have time for delays.”
With their orders meted out, everyone disperse. Joel rushing back to the truck, already on the phone and talking to Hot Wheels. Carla was running back up the small incline towards the office and Elle was right behind her, her shoulders stiff and her arms crossed once more over her chest as she walked. He willed her to look back at him, for one little smile in his direction, but none came as they disappeared inside the building.
With a sigh, he turned and headed back to work in the greenhouse. Something always went wrong. Always.
Chapter 20
Hot Wheels shifted nervously, idly fingering the leather tassels that hung from either side of the handlebars of her bike. Her baby. The one thing that she loved more than anything else in the world. Because it represented the one thing that she craved more than anything, the one thing that she would never be able to have. Freedom.
She sighed, staring up at the dilapidated building, knowing full well that she was stalling. She hated that she was. It was a sign of cowardice and if Hot Wheels was anything, it was fearless, always. But she knew that more waited inside the Nomad’s clubhouse than a showdown with the crew’s megalomaniac president. She knew that there was one other person in there, waiting. The last person in the world that she wanted to see. Sparkplug.
She looked up at the building once more. It looked like an abandoned warehouse. There were no signs that there was any life inside, but she knew for a fact that there was. She had been inside that place more times than she could count, back in the days when her and Sparkplug had– Well, those days were long gone. Now, it was just her and her bike. And that’s the way she liked it. No one to rely on but herself. No one to let down but herself.
Hot Wheels shook her head. You’re stalling again, she chastised herself, forcing one leg and then the other off the back of the motorcycle. She gave it an affectionate pat before taking a deep breath. Joel’s words were still echoing in her head from the blistering call. He’d been furious. Telling her that it had been her job to keep the rival gang’s pacified, not give them the details of their operation. And then he told her to take care of it.
That’s what she was doing her, girding her loins to walk into the lion’s den. She was taking care of it.
She threw her shoulders back, tilted her chin up and kept her eyes focused straight ahead like a fighter walking into the ring. In a way, she was. Except instead of fists she would be fighting with words. She just prayed it would be enough.
Hot Wheels slid open the rusted metal grate, cringing at the shrieking sound as it echoed through the large, open industrial space.
“Somebody should really put some oil on those gears,” she said in her southern drawl loudly, cheerfully, as nearly twenty pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. Twenty pairs of unfriendly eyes.
“Oookay. Chilly reception, boys. Do you treat all of your guests like this?” Hot Wheels forced the words out passed the sudden lump in her throat.
“We are not boys,” one of the bikers said, rolling his eyes in her direction, “And you’re sure as hell not a guest here. We know why you’re here, Hot Wheels. You roll with the Dirty Cruisers–”