Ethan
Ethan had just spread out all of his tools beside the Flathead, the first chance he’d had to work on it in the week that had followed the fundraiser, when his cell phone rang. Of course.
“Damn it.” He grabbed the phone, didn’t recognize the number, and answered it gruffly, already planning to make things quick. “Yeah?”
“Is this a bad time?”
He pulled the phone away and stared at it incredulously. He’d fully expected it to be a bill collector. “Marta Waters?”
“You remembered!” Her bright voice sounded honestly pleased. “I wanted to tell you that my boss loved the piece on your charity drive and he wants a follow-up about how much money you were able to donate,” she continued.
“I don’t have the exact numbers,” Ethan said, looking at the explosion of papers all over his desk. “But it was around ten grand.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I think that’s what Taylor and Jimmy came back to me with. I’ll get up with them and then let you know for sure.” Taylor would be able to spit out the number down to the penny in a few seconds.
“Great! Thanks for the heads up about the event, by the way.”
“Anytime.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that, too.” Her voice became more serious. “I’ve got something else I’d like to talk to you about, too. And I’d much rather do it in person than over the phone.”
“Paranoid about wire taps?”
“No, I just like looking at you.”
Ethan laughed. That wasn’t even close to what he’d expected to hear.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Marta said. “It must have happened to you a few times. Women love a bad boy. What do you think? I happen to be free tonight, and in the mood for French food.”
For a second, Ethan was shocked to find himself on the verge of saying no. But why the hell would he? Marta was smart, successful, gorgeous. Her blend of honesty and flirtatiousness was right up his alley too. The trouble lay in the fact that she wasn’t Amelia. But he didn’t owe Amelia Stratton a damn thing.
“Sounds good to me,” he said. He had to get Amelia out of his head and if Marta Waters wanted to help, he was damn sure going to let her.
# # #
“This is a pretty...uh...” He glanced around, feeling incredibly underdressed for the French restaurant she’d talked him into.
“It’s so overdone and ridiculously fancy,” Marta said, her eyes shining. “I love it here. You’ll be impressed when you taste it.”
He wasn’t convinced, but he followed the host to the table and took a seat across from Marta.
Once their drinks had been delivered, Marta took a sip of her white wine, then took a longer sip and finally said, “Okay. I’m taking a risk even telling you this. Can I have your promise that you won’t say anything to anyone about what I’m about to say?”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. He never made a promise before getting all of the details, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Probably. Depends on what it is.”
“It’s about Gregory Stratton. And a way to possibly get him out of our political system.”
Ethan put his drink down with a thump and leaned forward. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”
She smiled. “I thought you’d be in. I’m just collecting threads right now, but there are plenty of them. Some really strange things going on behind the scenes.”
“Like what?”
“Mostly just in his behavior. He never said a word about bikers or motorcycle clubs until this past year. Why the sudden passion? Why the push to stop you from gathering? Why the higher taxes to basically force most motorcycle clubs to close their doors? More importantly, he’s lost a lot of his previous financial backers to his opponent. So, where’s the money coming from?”
“Maybe he’s paying for it himself?” Ethan asked.
Marta shook her head. “Politics is a big money game. He wouldn’t have the coin to compete without backers.”
Ethan took a bite of the terrine that had just been placed in front of him. Marta had recommended it and he was a bit suspicious.
“Good God,” he said, resisting the urge to close his eyes. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Told you,” Marta said smugly. “I have excellent taste in food, wine, and men.”
“And good instincts for your job.”
“Great instincts,” she corrected. “Anyway, I plan to follow this Stratton thing as far as I can. I’d appreciate knowing if he tries to do anything to you.”
Was it possible that she knew that Stratton had reason to target Ethan specifically? Was that why she’d invited him out to dinner? “Why would he go after me?” he asked carefully, watching her face casually, yet closely.
Marta shook her head and grinned. “Ethan. You called him out on public television just a few days ago. You really think you didn’t put a target on your back?”
“Hey,” he protested, relieved that that seemed to be the extent of what she knew about Gregory’s issues with him. “This is a hell of a lot of political intrigue for a guy who spends his time fixing engines, all right?”
She smiled. “I’m sure you do more than that.”
She was great at flirting, keeping things businesslike until she slid in a compliment. It was how he tended to operate, too. It should have been easy to tease her in return, but it wasn’t.
“Oh, my God!” Marta whispered suddenly. “That’s Stratton’s daughter!”
Ethan felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water directly over him. Every nerve tingled. “What?” he asked, doing everything he could not to turn around.
“Amelia Stratton,” Marta said in an undertone. “She’s here right now. I wonder if I have time to slip the host a twenty to get them to seat her near us.”
“Don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Ethan muttered.
Marta zeroed in on him. “Why not?”
“She probably doesn’t like me any more than her dad does,” he hedged.
“Hmmm,” Marta said, sipping her wine and eyeing him closely.
“So,” Ethan said, redirecting her attention. “Amelia. What do you know about her?”
Marta shrugged and they both paused while Amelia walked by. Ethan’s appetite faded away when he saw she was on the arm of a guy who looked like he’d spent more on his suit than Ethan spent on his rent.
“Not much,” she went on when Amelia and the man had been seated. “There’s not much to know. She parties a little, or at least she did. But I’d be more suspicious of a politician’s kid that didn’t drink than one that does. She’s got a bachelor's degree, but she doesn’t work. She’s been seeing that guy for about two months, I think. His name’s Anthony Barlow and he’s Governor Barlow’s son.” Her phone buzzed and she gave him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I’ve got to check that.”
“Go for it.” Ethan was glad that she was looking down at her phone because he knew he looked like he’d been sucker punched. He felt like it, too. “Two months?” he asked, his voice much rougher than he’d wanted it to be. “Are you sure?”
Marta looked up, reading the situation in an instant. “Yeah. I didn’t know the two of you were--”
“We’re not,” he said. She didn’t look up, but he saw her eyebrow slide up. He sighed. “Okay. We had a really short thing a while back. It wasn’t serious.”
Nearly two months. She’d been seeing Anthony Barlow before she even set foot in that bar. Had she been cheating on her boyfriend that night? The unanswered questions were mounting up and he didn’t know how much longer he could take the weight.
“Okay,” Marta said, putting her phone back into her purse. “I didn’t ask you here to grill you about Amelia Stratton.”
“You didn’t know about me and her until just now,” Ethan pointed out.
Marta smiled. “Touché. But there’s one important thing you have to understand, Ethan.”
“What’s that?”
“If you’re going to help me bring Stratton down, that makes you a source. If you’re a source, you’re protected. So that means I’m not going to splatter your little one-night stand all over the television. Tabloid journalism isn’t my thing.”
He could tell he’d offended her. “I know it’s not,” Ethan said. “And I’ll take your word for it, Marta.”
“Thanks.”
He could tell his words hadn’t gone far to smooth things over. She still looked more than a little frosty. She glanced away, looking toward the table where Amelia and Anthony were sitting, and her expression changed. It was so quick that Ethan couldn’t help looking, too.
Anthony Barlow had pulled out a small box and opened it. Amelia was staring at him with her lips parted. Then, slowly, she held her hand out. It was shaking. Anthony pushed the ring onto her finger and Ethan swore he saw the light flash off the diamond from halfway across the room.
Anthony poured her some more wine. Amelia glanced away from the ring she’d been staring at and her eyes caught Ethan’s. It was a strangely static moment. He could see her breath catch as she went pale.
His stomach twisted when Anthony reached over and took her hand, drawing her attention back. She gave him a smile. Ethan’s hands clenched on the table.
“Gregory Stratton is going to be giving a speech in about an hour and a half. That’s what the message was,” Marta said, waving the waiter over and requesting a box and two checks.
Ethan didn’t miss the slight disappointment in Marta’s eyes and he knew he’d screwed up any potential they might have had. “I guess you should be sure to catch it,” he said.
Her tone was noncommittal when she said, “You should watch it, too. Let me know if anything catches your eye.”
# # #
Ethan opened the door to the headquarters, sorry to find it empty. He’d just bombed a date, seen a woman he hadn’t been able to get off of his mind for almost two months get engaged to another man, and now he was going to have to watch her father ruin his life on public television. He’d hoped someone would be hanging out that he could rope into watching the speech with him. And someone who could talk him out of getting blackout drunk and making a stupid decision.
He grabbed a beer, turned on the television and flopped down on the ratty, old leather couch. It had been there since the first time he’d seen the place at the age of fifteen and he had no intention of ever replacing it. It molded to a person, sucking them down into pure relaxation.
He figured he’d need all the relaxation he could get because Stratton had just stepped onto the stage. The audience was clapping enthusiastically, but Ethan noticed that the big room wasn’t full by any means. He’d take what victories he could get.
“I know a lot of you have been wondering why I’m so darn hard down on these poor bikers lately,” Stratton said once he’d given his opening comments. He gave the audience as charming smile. Ethan resisted the urge to throw his beer at the television. William would never forgive him if he broke it. “But, even if they try to make themselves look good by collecting for charities, we can’t be taken in by it. The Angel’s Keepers...” He paused and shook his head at the name. “They never released how much money was made. And they certainly didn’t release how much they actually handed over to the veterans’ charity. Which, forgive me, is suspicious for a group that claimed they would donate 100% of the profits that you people took out of your hard-earned money and gave to them in good faith that they would do the right thing!”
A cheer went up and Ethan realized his hands were aching from how tightly he’d clenched his fists.
“And this is the kind of thing that these gangs do,” Stratton went on, looking out at the sparse crowd earnestly. “They like to make you believe that they’re just everyday guys. Just good old boys who like to ride motorcycles in their spare time.” He thumped his fist on the podium. “But do you know what they do on those rides? They exchange drugs and dirty money! They help sex traffickers take our daughters! And, even more than that, they cause an astounding amount of deaths on the roadways. They are simply hazardous to us as drivers, as people, as a moral state and nation!”
Ethan snorted. It was almost funny because the guy sounded like a complete idiot. It was just that he was an idiot with power. Stratton waited for the clapping to die down before he spoke again.
“That’s why I’m proposing a law to limit their ability to ride together in such large numbers. No longer will they be able to clog our highways for something as simple as a poker run. Or something as dangerous as a drug run. But I’m going to need your help. Write to your congressmen. Sign the petitions that are out there. Make your voices heard and help me protect the state I’ve served for twenty years!”
Ethan threw his beer bottle against the wall and reveled in the crash. He’d have to clean it up later, but it had been worth it. He turned the television off. There was research and then there was risking a stroke from high blood pressure.
What the living hell was the guy’s problem? Theories swirled in his mind. A new backer who hated bikers? The fact that he’d fucked Stratton’s daughter? It couldn’t be that, because the guy had been out for motorcycle clubs before that. Amelia’s beautiful face appeared in his mind’s eye.
He wanted answers from her, too. Fuck it. He was tired of living with these questions. He stood up and yanked his jacket out. He was going to see Amelia.
# # #
A quick search on his phone had gotten him the address, but when he pulled up to the massive gates he had no idea how he was going to get in. There was a convenient buzzer, but he didn’t nurse any illusions of being let right in. He couldn’t take the chance of being turned away by some impersonal staff member or security guard. Not when he needed to be able to see her face.
Ethan realized his heart had started thumping harder. Nervous? No, it couldn’t be. Whatever he’d felt for her had to be dead. She was engaged to someone else now, damn it. He reassured himself it was just anger. It couldn’t be anything else. He left the bike on the street and went over the wall, hoping to God her father didn’t have dogs.
He made it to the door without any issues and knocked firmly. It took a few repetitions before the door opened slightly. The chain was still on. Amelia’s face peered out. Her mouth dropped open and the door slammed.
Ethan was raising his hand to knock again when he heard the chain drop and the door was flung wide.
“Ethan?” she whispered.
“Yeah.” For a second, that was all he could say.
Now that he saw her up close, under the bright hallway lights, she looked smaller than she had two months ago. She’d washed her makeup off and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and ask her what was wrong. Even though he was supposed to be furious with her.
“What...what are you doing here?”
She pushed her hair back into the untidy bun and he noticed the way the light caught and flashed on the massive diamond. It was surrounded by countless smaller diamonds. He was almost relieved to feel his anger flood back.
“I don’t know, Amelia,” he snapped, stepping into the foyer and closing the door behind him. “Maybe I’m here for some goddamn answers.”
“A...answers?” she asked, backing up just a bit, looking suddenly afraid.
She was so much smaller than him. Ethan took a breath and stayed where he was. He didn’t want to scare her. He just wanted to know what the hell was going on.
“Were you watching your father’s speech?” he demanded.
She shook her head. “No. I read it when it was finished this morning. Is that really what you came for? Ethan, I--”
“Were you with that other guy when we had sex?” Ethan burst out, needing to know.
“What guy?”
“What guy? Hell, I don’t know...maybe the one that just gave you a diamond the size of a golf ball a few hours ago at dinner?”
Amelia glanced disinterestedly down at her ring. “Oh. Anthony.”
Ethan snorted at her bored response to a ring that probably cost more than he spent on food in a year. And she didn’t seem too interested in the guy who’d given it to her either. Did she just not give a damn about any of the men she associated with?
“So is that a yes?”
“No!” She looked into his eyes, hers begging him to believe her. “Ethan, I hadn’t even been out with Anthony before that night.”
“Pretty quick work,” he said coldly. “Going from a one night stand with a big, bad, biker to an engagement with a little rich boy.”
Amelia’s face flushed. “You don’t know anything about why I’m doing this! Don’t you dare stand there and judge me!”
“Fine,” he snarled. “I don’t even know why the hell I expected anything different from you. Just another rich girl slumming before she has to give in and make Daddy proud.”
He was nearly out the door when he heard her begin to cry.Don’t look, don’t look. He turned back. Her hands were over her face and her small figure was shaking with harsh sobs. “Goddamn it,” he muttered, going back inside. “Amelia...come on. Stop that.”
“Stop that?” she managed through her tears. “You’re shitty at making things better, Ethan!”
He huffed out a half laugh. “Hey, if you’re just gonna criticize me, maybe I’ll go after all.”
He only just braced himself when she threw herself at him, sobbing into his chest, soaking his tee shirt. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her hair free of its ties and running his fingers through it, allowing the silky strands to soothe the confusion and anger that was still bottled up. He was still furious with her father and he still didn’t understand what the hell had happened between him and Amelia that night, but, God, she felt right against him.
“Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please. I’ll do what I can to explain. Just...please don’t go.”
When she looked up at him, he couldn’t help himself. She wasn’t his. She was engaged to another man. And he still cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Amelia went up onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around him and parting her lips for his tongue.
He’d convinced himself over the time that they’d been apart that there was no way being with her had been that good. He’d told himself that the memory only stuck with him because he was confused by it. None of that was true. Standing her with her now, kissing her again...it brought it all back vividly. Her mouth was perfection. Her small breasts pushing against his chest were even better, if anything could be better than perfection. And he was pretty sure that she somehow was.
Ethan pulled back before he really wanted to, remembering that engagement ring. He’d done some questionable things in his life, but he wasn’t a cheater. He didn’t want to be the person someone cheated with either.
He had to even out his breathing before he could speak, but he managed. “Then talk to me, Amelia.”
She took a deep breath as well. “Okay. Come out onto the back deck. We’ll talk there.”