CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Saturday morning, Delilah was back in the car with Ronnie. This time they were parked at a gas station just off the long road that led down to that compound he’d been staking out the other day. He’d called his brother, and they sat waiting for him to show up.

Delilah sipped on a Mountain Dew while Ronnie ate his way through a bag of sunflower seeds, spitting the shells into a Styrofoam cup. It was a disgusting habit, and she turned away to stare out the window.

A sudden roar of engines had Ronnie straightening in his seat and peering out the windshield. She followed his gaze to see a line of motorcycles coming up the road from the direction of the compound.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled throwing the cup out the window. “Get Donnie on the phone!”

She dug in her purse, hurrying to comply, her eyes on the loud machines that rolled up at the light. As she put the phone to her ear, she noticed Ronnie slump down in his seat.

“He’s not answering. It went to voicemail,” she whispered, slumping in her own seat.

The light changed, and the line of bikes roared away.

“Never mind,” he snapped as his hand reached for the ignition.

Oh God, was he going to follow those bikers?

Ronnie shifted the car into gear and turned out into traffic, following at a distance.

“What are we doing?” she asked in a panic.

“Shut up!” he snarled. “Just keep trying Donnie.”

Delilah did as she was told while they followed the motorcycles across town, eventually watching them turn one after another into the parking lot of an old building. Ronnie drove on past to stop a block down, where he pulled to the side of the road behind a parked van.

He glanced around the area, noted the street sign and growled, “Third Avenue and McDowell. Write that down.”

She tapped the note into her phone.

He dug out the binoculars and focused in on a wooden sign in the yard. “Future home of New Horizons, help for victims of domestic abuse.”

“Why would they go there?” Delilah whispered.

“What a load of crap,” Ronnie muttered half to himself, but he kept his eyes on the bunch of riders as they dismounted and the women who came out of the building to greet them. His tone changed as he watched. “Now, this could be useful.”

 

***

 

Undertaker met AJ halfway across the lot where she stood with a couple other women. With the seven men he’d brought with him at his back, he grinned and took a deep bow. “At your service, m’ladies.”

AJ let out a bubbly laugh that brightened his day just by the sound of it.

She did a curtsy, holding out an imaginary skirt. “Kind sirs.”

“You two start talking like Shakespeare and I’m out of here,” Blood muttered.

Undertaker turned to him. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Son. You and Sandman get started on replacing the broken glass. Easy, you and So-Cal take the painting. Wicked and Joker, you’re on lot cleanup.”

“And me?” Mooch asked.

“You’re on grill duty.” Undertaker lifted his chin toward the grill that was loaded in the back of the pickup one of the prospects drove onto the lot. Then he turned back to the men. “No one eats until all the work is done. You got that?”

There was grumbling, but they all nodded.

AJ smiled and introduced her crew of ladies. “This is Sharon and Diane. They work at New Horizons. And the one giving you the evil eye is my best friend, Bella.”

Undertaker’s eyes swept over the bunch. “Ladies.”

“Thank you for coming,” AJ said, grinning up at him.

He nodded, smiling, then swung his eyes past her to the other women. “One of you ladies want to show the boys where to get started?”

“Of course,” a short blonde said.

Blood lifted his chin. “Lead the way, ma’am.”

“Follow me,” she said, spinning on her feet. The boys trailed behind her, moving off to their assigned tasks.

AJ watched them go, and then turned back to Undertaker. “I mean it. Thank you. This means more than you know.”

He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “Glad to help, darlin’.”

She pulled her hand free, glancing around to see if anyone saw.

Undertaker chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“That wasn’t appropriate. I don’t want my friends or your… your men to get the wrong idea about this.”

She looked truly nervous, and Undertaker found himself taking pity on her. He tilted her chin up. “Hey. Relax. No one’s going to see anything.”

By the expression on her face, she’d caught the fact that his careful wording hadn’t promised there wouldn’t be anything to see, just that no one would see it. And perhaps she felt the need to set him straight, because she immediately brought up the kiss.

“Look, Derek, I—”

“Call me Undertaker.”

Her brows shot up. “Call you what?”

“Undertaker. It’s my club name. I’d rather you didn’t use my given name in front of my men.”

“You want me to call you Undertaker rather than Derek?” she asked, disbelieving.

“Just in front of the men. When we’re alone, you can call me Derek.”

“When we’re alone? Look, Mr. Undertaker, I—”

“Not Mister, just Undertaker.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Undertaker, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. The other night…that kiss…that can’t happen again.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, because—”

“You didn’t like it?”

“No. Yes. That’s beside the point, I—”

“That’s exactly the point.”

“I’m just trying to say that—”

“What? What are you trying to say?” He grinned, loving that he could get her rattled.

Her hands landed on her hips. She was onto him. “Don’t make me sorry I asked you here.”

“You didn’t ask me here. I offered, remember?”

“Are you always this difficult?”

“Mostly. But that’s okay; you’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t plan to be around you long enough to get used to it.”

Undertaker chuckled. “Someday, I’m gonna remind you that you said those words.”

“I’m already regretting this.”

Undertaker laughed, then hooked his arm around her shoulders and aimed her toward her little silver sports car. “Come on, let’s go buy some meat to throw on the grill.”

“I take it I’m driving?”

“Unless you’re gonna turn the keys to this sweet ride over to me, yeah.”

 

***

 

Four hours later AJ couldn’t believe all the work that had gotten done. Of course it helped that the pickup they’d brought with them had been loaded down with tools, painting supplies, a couple of weed whackers, and even a lawnmower. In no time, the lot was cleaned up, the lawn cut, the overgrown weeds gone, the windows replaced, and four rooms painted.

It was like a horde of busy elves had descended on the property.

Now the aroma of steaks and burgers on the grill permeated the neighborhood. She’d even met some of her new neighbors in this mostly residential area as they wandered over to see what was going on and then to offer their welcome, or occasionally their help.

The property was on a main thoroughfare, but there were homes around it. The building she’d purchased had at one time been a home converted into a real estate office before it had gone out of business and been abandoned.

Undertaker sat on the dropped tailgate of the pickup truck with a burger in his hand. Another of the men sat on an overturned empty five-gallon bucket. Others sat on the steps leading up to the covered porch or on the freshly cut yard.

She had to admit, the guys were not at all what she’d expected. They didn’t seem to be the scary brutes she’d assumed them to be. She actually found them to be quite likeable. They laughed and cut up with each other, and yes, there was some language, but for the most part, they watched their mouths around her and the other women.

She pulled a couple of cans of soft drinks from a cooler full of ice and walked around the group. “Anyone need another cola?”

One of the men who was reclining back on the grass on his elbow, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have any beer in that cooler, would ya, darlin’?”

“Sorry, no beer.”

“Chill out, Sandman,” Undertaker said. “No one’s drinking here.”

“You’re killin’ me, boss,” Sandman groaned, falling to his back.

“Then can we go somewhere there is drinking?” the man next to him suggested with a grin.

“Did you load up everything?” Undertaker drilled him with a look. “There’s no drop cloths or dirty paint brushes I’m gonna find inside?”

“Got it all, Prez.”

“Then go on if you want to.”

“Thank God,” the kid mumbled.

“I heard that, So-Cal.”

They all started to climb to their feet, tossing paper plates and soda cans in the trash.

“Wait. Before you go,” AJ began, stopping them all dead in their tracks. “I just wanted to tell you how thankful I am for all of your help today. I truly appreciate everything you did.”

“Aw, shucks, ma’am. It t’weren’t nothin’,” Sandman said in a cheesy put-on voice. “Me and the boys were glad to do it.”

“I know you’re teasing me, but I really do thank you.” She turned, taking in all their faces. “Truly.”

They nodded and shuffled off to their bikes, almost embarrassed by her kind words. Soon the thunder of a half dozen drag pipes filled the lot as they roared out onto the street. The sound faded quickly into the distance.

Undertaker remained seated on the tailgate of the pickup, swinging one leg and studying her.

She approached him. “It means a lot that you did all this for me. I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She nodded toward where his men had gone. “They seemed uncomfortable when I thanked them.”

“They just don’t get talked to like that very often.” He wiped his face with a napkin, crumbled it up, and tossed it into the garbage. “Don’t worry, they got the message. And it’s good for their souls to do something nice and good for someone once in a while.”

“It doesn’t happen very often?”

He chuckled. “This bunch? Nah. Not often.”

“So, maybe you’re right. Maybe I was judging them before I got to know them. They don’t seem to be the badasses I was afraid of.”

He laughed again. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. Don’t underestimate them. They can be every inch the badasses you fear, but only if someone disrespects them or challenges them.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. But you will.” He jumped down off the tailgate. “Now how about the keys to the Spider? You did promise me I could drive it.”

She grinned, pulled them from the back pocket of her jeans, and dropped them in the open palm of his hand. “Once around the block, mister.”

“You better come along, ‘cause around the block ain’t gonna cut it, lady.”

When they’d gone around the block a couple of times, he drove back onto the lot and they got out. Undertaker watched her eye his bike. “You ride?”

She shook her head.

He moved to his saddlebag, pulled out a helmet, and held it out to her.

She took it. “You always carry an extra?”

“Nope. Bought that for you.”

“For me?” she asked, stunned. Her eyes dropped to the lone sticker on the back. Sweet cheeks. “Cute.”

He grinned as he took his helmet from where it dangled from the handlebar and strapped it on. Then he threw his leg over the seat. “Climb on, sweet cheeks.”

She didn’t complain. She was too happy at the moment, and scrambled on behind him.

 

***

 

Delilah sat in the backseat of the Buick wondering how much longer they were going to have to bake in this heat. The car was parked in the lot of Our Lady of Sorrow Catholic Church.

Ronnie sat in the driver’s seat, licking a melting ice cream cone that they’d bought at the Dairy Barn where they’d rendezvoused with his brother. His eyes were focused with sharp attention on the business across the street, the one where the bike and pickup were parked.

“New Horizons Women’s Center,” he read the sign with disgust. “What a load of crap.”

Her eyes swung to the sign, and she read the words below. Helping women in abusive situations. Her hand trailed up to the bruise on the side of her face that still ached from Ronnie’s fist. She’d tried her best to cover it with makeup.

Donnie spoke from the passenger seat next to Ronnie. “You a ‘new woman,’ Delilah?”

They both chuckled.

Ronnie took another slow lick of his ice cream cone, his eyes aimed across the street.

The man and woman had returned in the little sports car, and were now talking next to the only bike that remained. There were a few other women carrying cleaning supplies and buckets to another car.

They watched as the couple climbed on the bike.

“Interesting,” Ronnie murmured.

“She means something to him,” Donnie responded.

“Yup,” Ronnie replied.

They both turned to each other, and the look that passed between them made Delilah’s blood run cold. She swallowed and glanced back at the couple, afraid of what Ronnie might be planning. His vengeance against this man consumed him. She didn’t wish the man harm, but she was glad for anything that kept Ronnie’s attention off her.

The bike rolled out of the parking lot and disappeared down the street. She expected Ronnie to start the car and either follow them or go home. He did neither. Instead, his eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.

“Go find out who she is,” he ordered.

Delilah turned to study the parking lot and the couple of women who remained loading supplies into the trunk of a car. When she made no immediate move to comply, she heard the creaking of leather. Her eyes shifted back to the front seat to see both Ronnie and Donnie swiveling to glare at her. Ronnie pinned her with his eyes. She knew what that look meant—either she complied or there’d be hell to pay.

Blowing out a breath, she reached for the door handle and climbed out of the car. She straightened her sundress and headed across the street, her cheap flip-flops thwacking on her feet as she dashed across the pavement and up on the opposite sidewalk. She tossed the remnants of her ice cream cone in a bush and rounded the hedge coming into the parking lot.

She feigned interest in the business, looking from the sign by the road to the building.

One of the women straightened from the trunk and noticed her.

“Hello,” the woman said with a smile.

“Hi,” Delilah replied, then she turned to stare at the building again, knowing it would give the woman a view of the bruise on her jaw. She heard the slight indrawn breath.

The woman took a step toward her and extended her hand out. “I’m Sharon.”

“D-Daisy,” Delilah lied, shaking her hand. She glanced nervously to the building, biting her lip, then asked in a hesitant voice, “Is this place open yet?”

Sharon dropped her hand. “Not yet. Do you need help, Daisy?”

When she didn’t reply, Sharon moved to lean in the passenger window of the car and pulled something out. Then she walked to Delilah and held out a brochure.

“There’s a number at the bottom you can call anytime, day or night.”

Delilah scanned the page. “Dr. A.J. Carter. Does he run the place?”

“She,” the woman corrected her with a smile. “You just missed her, and yes, she runs the place.”

Below the name, it read, Advocate for women in abusive relationships.

Her eyes lifted to Sharon. “Can I keep this?”

“Yes, of course. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you? Do you need help, Daisy?”

Delilah wanted to scream yes, but instead, she shook her head and shoved the brochure in her small purse. “Thank you.”

“If you ever need help, please don’t hesitate to call the number.”

Delilah nodded and hurried off down the street. She walked a block down, before doubling back and returning to the Buick. By then the women were gone. She climbed in the backseat and slammed the door.

Ronnie’s head swung around to her. “Well? What’d you find out?”

“Her name’s Dr. AJ Carter. She’s a psychologist.” She took the brochure from her purse and passed it over the seat to him.

He snatched it from her hand, his eyes scanning it. “A doctor, huh? Well, ain’t he highfalutin, hangin’ out with the likes of her. An advocate for women.” He handed it off to Donnie. “Find out everything you can about her.”

Donnie nodded, then chuckled and glanced back at Delilah as he crumpled up the brochure and tossed it out the window. “You won’t be needing this.”

Her eyes went to the crumpled ball lying on the hot pavement, but she remained silent as Ronnie shifted the big car into reverse and pulled out.

 

***

 

AJ clung to Undertaker’s back as they rode through the streets of Slidell. She’d never been on the back of a bike before, and she was finding it exhilarating.

They turned off into a residential area near the shoreline, and Undertaker rode slowly, keeping the roar from his drag pipes to a low rumble. They rolled past homes on stilts, grassy yards, and tall southern pines. A bayou was on one side, Lake Ponchartrain on the other.

At the end of the street, past the last house, a sign read North Shore Beach Park. The area was deserted, probably because a storm was blowing in. The sky was windswept with low gray clouds, and the scent of rain hung in the air.

Undertaker pulled to the side in a gravel area and shut the bike off. They walked the short distance to the sandy beach area. It was only about a hundred yards wide. There was a picnic table at the edge of the grassy area, its boards a gray driftwood color. They ignored it, standing in the sand.

“That was fun,” she said, glancing back at the motorcycle.

Undertaker smiled. “First time on a bike?”

She nodded.

“Special day, then, huh?”

She grinned. “You’re right. I should commemorate this.” She dug her phone out of her pocket and held it up to take a selfie, squeezing close to him. “Smile.”

He dipped his head next to hers, putting them cheek-to-cheek.

She took it, then stared down at her phone.

It was a great shot.

He peered over her shoulder. “Send me a copy of that.”

She did, then put her phone away and inhaled deeply. The fresh air was exhilarating.

Undertaker’s eyes swept over the horizon with a hawk-like quality that made her believe they missed nothing.

“The cool breeze off the water feels nice,” she murmured.

His gaze flicked skyward to the fast moving clouds. “Rain’s comin’.”

“Yes. Perhaps we should head back,” she suggested, also scanning the sky.

His eyes cut to her, and the wrinkles around them deepened as he smiled. “Afraid you’ll melt?”

“We’re on a motorcycle,” she stated the obvious.

“Don’t worry, Allison. I’ll have you back before the first drops fall.”

Her gaze again flicked to the sky, doubting his weather forecasting ability.

“That rain is still a half hour out,” he assured.

“How do you know?” she asked the innocent question.

He glanced away, his mood suddenly shifting. “Just know. Spent too many years in the fields not to be able to judge how far off the rain is. It’s something you pick up quick when there’s a chance of being caught out in it.”

The fields. At his reference, the truth dawned on her. He was talking about Angola. The fields he spoke about were the thousands of acres contained in the prison farm. No wonder his mood had darkened.

He squatted, scooping a handful of sugar-white sand, his eyes again scanning the horizon.

She looked away, not quite sure if she should change the subject or let the silence between them linger while he let the bad memories shift through his conscious thoughts like the sand through his fingers.

She sat down in the warm sand, her legs out and crossed at the ankles, resting back on her palms. A sailboat cut across the lake, its sails full as it headed for a distant marina trying to beat the storm in.

His deep sexy voice drew her attention from the picturesque scene.

“I’d like to see you again. There’s a party at the clubhouse tomorrow. Say you’ll come.”

She turned to him, her eyes clear and open, her answer direct. “I’m not the party type.”

“It’s a barbeque. Nothin’ fancy, nothin’ too wild. I promise.”

She bit her lip, considering, her eyes back on the water. It would give her a chance to observe Holly and the situation at the clubhouse.

“Come. You’ll have a good time. You decide you want to leave, say the word, and I’ll take you home.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why’s that?”

She gave him a look that told him his question didn’t bear explaining.

He grinned. “I’ll make you a bet.”

“A bet?”

He lifted his chin in the direction over her shoulder. “I hit that sign over there with a rock, you come to the clubhouse tomorrow.”

“That little road sign over there? There’s no way. It’s gotta be fifty feet away.”

He scooped up a rock the size of a golf ball, tossing it in his palm.

“Fine.” She nodded toward the sign. “This I have to see.”

He leaned back like a pitcher on the mound and flung the rock. She watched it sail through the air, smacking the metal with a loud bang.

Her mouth fell open. “How’d you do that?”

He grinned, those lines around his eyes deepening again. “Used to play baseball in high school. I had a pretty good arm.”

“That’s not fair. You never told me you were some kind of pro.”

“You didn’t ask.” He winked. “I’ll pick you up at four.”

She huffed out a breath in defeat, her gaze back on the water. “And what does one wear to a biker barbeque?”

“Anything you want, Allison.”

“I go by AJ now.” She’d told him that several times, but he stubbornly ignored each reminder, as he did now, not replying, but instead pulling her to her feet. Her mouth parted at being brought chest to chest with him. His hands landed on her hips, and she couldn’t deny the reaction his touch had on her.

“Let me ask you something. When we’re close like this, are you still thinking about why we’re wrong for each other?”

Her eyes just naturally dropped to his mouth. “I—”

And then his hands tightened, tugging her that last step forward, and that sexy mouth found hers. All she could think about was what a phenomenal kisser he was and how very right they were for each other, at least physically.

A strong, cold breeze blew over them, and he broke the kiss to grin down at her.

“Come on, Allison. We better head back if I’m going to keep my promise and get you home before the rain starts.”