Micah

 

I confess, I think that was when I really realized what I found so attractive about Kaci. This girl just didn't give a fuck. Really. There we were, in the seat of my power, with my buddy leveling a gun at her head, and her poor friend looking like she about to cry from pure pants-shitting terror.

 

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice as smooth and calm as possible despite the fact that I had a blade pressed to my throat. In the wrong spot, mind you, but still in one that would cause me some serious discomfort in the short term. “Hey,” I said again, “it's alright. I'd never even met Abram before in my life.”

 

“He had a picture of you on his phone,” Kaci said. “Called you The Don, Micah. Why would he do that if you two had never met?”

 

“I don't know,” I said, completely honestly. “I really don't know. If this is some sorta way to get back at the man who killed your brother, I ain't the guy responsible. And you know that.”

 

“How can I be so sure?” she said, pressing the flat of the blade into my flesh a little.

 

I winced and tensed up. “Okay, how about this. If Abram was my boy, which he wasn't, why would we keep you around, huh?”

 

Out of the corner of my eye, Gov shook his head. He didn't like that line of thought, and figured she wouldn't believe me. He still had his gun trained on her, though, and wasn't going to budge even a fraction of an inch. Gov was a good man.

 

“So . . . so you could find who really did it,” Kaci said.

 

“Yeah,” I agreed, a little more sarcastically maybe than I should have. “And that's why I'd take you to go meet my Grandpa, right? So I could tease this information out of you? If we were so awful as to run with Abram's crew, don't you think we'd have been beating you by now, or chopping off bits of you till you told us the truth?”

 

I could tell she was thinking from the way those beautiful brown eyes of her shifted around. She was trying to judge how truthful I was being, and whether or not my logic held up. Also, I knew, she was taking the measure of me.

 

She was almost there, just sitting on the fence a little bit when it came down to the matter of belief and disbelief. I could tell that, just from her experience with me in the last day, she wanted to believe me. That was good. It meant I might not end up with a knife lodged in my throat.

 

But, if I was going to get her to believe me and the truth of the matter, I was going to have to nudge her a little bit. I was going to have to give her everything. Otherwise, none of this made sense.

 

“Look,” I said, pausing to lick my lips, “Abram was working for Efraim Petrov. Gov and I, and the rest of the guys, we ain't got shit to do with them. Abram was probably looking for us. Gov, back me up here.”

 

Gov, across the table from me, furrowed his brow and nodded slowly. “He's right, Kaci. We don't have any business with Abram, or Efraim Petrov. Not like that, at least.”

 

“What kind of business is it, then?” Kaci asked.

 

I sighed. “I'll level with you. We've been ripping Efraim off for months, stealing guns from his trucks and selling them around town and out of state. Apparently, though, now he's looking for us. Well, he was till you put a bullet in his bloodhound.”

 

She smiled grimly, a tight, mean little expression. Oddly, I kind of liked it, despite knowing full well how I should have felt about a woman smiling like that as she held a knife to my throat.

 

“Gov,” I said, “why don't you put the gun down. Alright?”

 

“Micah,” Gov said in a warning, that's-not-a-good-idea voice.

 

“Kaci, you gonna stab me?” I asked. “Or not? Cause the pearly gates are gonna be there in five seconds, or they're gonna be there in five minutes. For both of us.”

 

“Come on, Kaci,” Sydney said, breaking her silence. “These guys didn't have anything to do with Abram before last night. They weren't responsible.”

 

She groaned and lowered the knife. She tossed it on the table as I exhaled a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

 

I looked down at the knife, checked the handle. “That Grandpa's?”

 

“You really need to keep a better eye on your prisoners,” Kaci said.

 

I reached up, tentatively checked where the blade's edge had been pressed against the skin of my neck. “Well, you weren't exactly a prisoner.”

 

She shrugged and crossed her arms. “Whatever.” She slid down into her seat, a frown on her face. “Now what?”

 

“Now nothing,” Gov said. “We move on from Petrov and find a better deal, an easier one. You girls get to go do whatever, or stick around and work if you want. But, we're done.” His eyes shifted from Sydney and Kaci to me, the looking in his eyes questioning. “Right, Micah?”

 

I frowned. He was right. Petrov had gotten pretty dangerous all of a sudden. Either they knew who we were, or had a pretty good guess going. Moving on would be the smart thing to do.

 

But, shit, if the idea of that fat shipment coming along wasn't nice. It would be the biggest score yet, a real payday that would set the MC up for a long time. We could even take some time off and lay low with the kind of cash we'd make off a job that big. I mean, come on, military grade weapons? Anyone would give their mom, grandma, wife, and dog for that kind of firepower.

 

I shook my head. “Nope, we got that truck coming still. And it's gonna be the haul of the century.”

 

Gov shook his head and nearly spit on the floor in disgust. “Come on, Micah,” he said. “There's risks, then there's stupid risks like jumping out a plane without a chute. Then there's this shit!”

 

I raised a hand, though, as a plan began to form in the recesses of my brain. “I know, Gov, I get it. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? We got this, man, and I even know how we can throw Petrov off the scent while we do it.”

 

“What?” Gov asked.

 

“Well, normally something like what I got in mind wouldn't work. But, this time around, we got some help.” I turned to Kaci and Sydney and gave them my most winning smile. “Don't we, ladies?”

 

# # #

Kaci

 

Personally, I liked the plan. It was bold, decisive, and definitely not what the real Don, the Bear, would be expecting.

 

The other two, Sydney and Gov, of course thought it was brash and too soon. Which, I suppose was just a little Debbie Downer way of framing my opinion.

 

Sydney and I were gonna pretend to be teenage runaways, which was pretty easy for us both to pull off. Might say we'd been studying up on that role for a while. Once we got down the rode a little while, we'd dose the guy with some chloroform, knock him out, and set 'em for the steal. When the driver came to, there wouldn't have been any bikers from the God’s Hellfire MC around, and no one to pin it on. Efraim, not seeing any major culprit, would move onto hunt down another gang, leaving the F&B MC in the clear.

 

Of course, I also liked the plan for another reason: it would put me one step closer to the Bear, Abram's real boss. Even if Micah wasn't in league with the fucker, and now I knew for sure that he wasn't, Quentin Marlow had made it clear that Efraim was untouchable by the cops. He was practically a national fucking treasure, far as they were concerned.

 

Figured I could use this heist to my advantage, but I needed someone else in the cab of the truck with me. Otherwise, Micah wouldn't go for the deal. Besides, when it was all said and done, and I was on my way to see Efraim, Sydney would be in the clear with the bikers.

 

“Come on, Sydney,” I whined, “you've done worse than this.”

 

“What?” she nearly shrieked. “I have not!”

 

“That one guy up in Shreveport, when you spiked his drink?”

 

Sydney was a couple years older than me, and had been in the game a little longer, too. She hadn't had as rough of an upbringing as me, though, and was still a little soft in certain parts. But, Sydney sure as hell wasn't the pure-as-driven-snow, hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold stereotype she played herself up as.

 

One time in Shreveport, a Louisiana city known for its shitty casinos and gambling boats, she'd dosed some guy's drink and took off with all his winnings, all five thousand of 'em, and came south to the city. It was how she'd gotten away from her first pimp and fell in with me.

 

She made a face and shook her head. Her little fists were clinched tight in her lap.

 

I put my hand on hers, held it tight. “One last job,” I promised, squeezing her hand. “That's it.”

 

Her face changed as she finally relented. “Okay,” she sighed out. “But this is it. No more. I just wanna be a bartender from now on.”

 

“I know, Sydney,” I said. “I know.”

 

“So,” Micah said, “you two are in?”

 

Across from him, I could tell Gov was fuming. But, he was a good friend to Micah, and knew his place in the organization. If Micah wanted to do a job like this, even if it was crazy and risky, Gov would bend to it. The guys, I guessed, had voted Micah in. It wasn't Gov's place to second guess. It was just his job to make sure the heist went off right.

 

Sydney and I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, speaking for us both. “Guess we're in.”

 

“Great,” Micah said, clapping his hands together before getting up from the table with a big grin on his face. “Let's fucking celebrate, eh?”

 

I looked at him with a blank stare. Didn't he realize I'd just tried to slit his throat?

 

“What?” he asked, clearly confused.

 

“I just tried to fucking kill you, Micah,” I said, pointing to the knife. I nudged the tip of the blade with my finger, sending it spinning in a lazy circle. “Like, five seconds ago.”

 

“Meh,” he said, waving it off like it happened every day. Which, for him, maybe that was the truth. “You thought I was responsible for your brother's death. I get it. I'd have done the same thing.” He shrugged. “But, you dropped it, right?”

 

I shook my head. Sydney shook her head. Gov, even, shook his head.

 

“Now who's up for some pool?” he asked.

 

Then, he was out the door of the meeting room, with the three of us just watching him as he left. I realized my eyes were fastened to that perfect ass of his in those too-tight Levis. I shook my head.

 

I just didn't get this guy. He didn't want sex, but he'd been rock hard yesterday when he was doling out his punishment. He was too smart by half, but he still took crazy risks. He was the president of an outlaw biker gang that made money by stealing from the Russian mob, but his grandfather was a retired FBI agent.

 

Somehow, it didn't add up, at least not in a way that I could see.

 

Gov sighed and got up to follow his boss, leaving me and Sydney alone together.

 

“Guess we better join 'em,” Sydney squeaked after a moment.

 

“Yeah,” I agreed.

 

The next few hours passed by in a flash. We stayed up top in the clubhouse while the real club bustled below us, but I didn't mind. I was tired of the bar life, even after such a short time in adulthood. It just seemed too damned loud, sometimes, especially when you wanted to be able to hear your thoughts.

 

We played pool, drank beer, and even toasted to the beginning of a long, mutually beneficial relationship. I kept my eyes on Micah as I drank down my Jager, and he kept his on me. Afterwards, he showed me a couple moves when it came to pool, his big arms reaching around me to demonstrate the proper way to hold the cue. I didn't mind the pointers. Apparently, I'd been doing it wrong the whole time, which was part of the reason I'd always kinda sucked at the game.

 

As he helped me sink a stripe that had been in a tricky spot up against the rail, I heard snickering behind us. Micah and I both turned around, confused. Sydney and Gov were sitting in the corner on their barstools, giggling like a gaggle of school girls.

 

“What?” I asked, my eyes flashing at them as they kept going. “Spit it out.”

 

Gov averted his eyes from my wrath. “Nothing.”

 

Sydney stifled a giggle. “You two just look so cute together. You'd make a nice couple, is all.”

 

Micah and I exchanged glances.

 

I mean, sure, I wanted to fuck the guy, and I was pretty sure he wanted the same. Hell, I even wanted to back when cold-blooded murder was at the top of my To Do list. He was a total beefcake! And with that jaw of his, and those forearms, who wouldn't? But, anything else?

 

No sir.

 

We both shook our heads and laughed as we took a little half-step apart.

 

“No thanks,” we both said at the same time, then grinned a little.

 

“Jinx,” I said as I bent down to the pool table with my cue. This time, though, I bent down alone. “You owe me a beer.”

 

He laughed as I took my shot at the eight ball.

 

He laughed again when I missed.