Chapter Eighteen
Troy rode to the bike shop just off Earhart Boulevard, not more than ten minutes from Stacey’s spare parts business. He parked his Harley and strode into the back where he did his repair work. He was restoring a rare WWII Harley Davidson, owned by his biker buddy, Axel. He was the only brother who was as mechanical as Troy was. He and Axel had grown up together, joined the army together, and done their special forces training together. Axel’s specialty was explosives. Troy trusted him with his life.
Axel wouldn’t let anyone other than Troy touch his beloved antique motorcycle. Troy had nicknamed it Precious.
Axel raised his eyebrows when Troy came in. He was meticulously wiping over the bike’s ugly, army-green paint job.
Troy took his toolkit down from his shelf. “What?”
“Nothin’.”
He hunkered down next to the bike. “Spill.”
Axel looked around to make sure none of the others were within hearing distance. “Heard you threw a hand grenade at your pa and Hawg.”
Troy waved a hand. “If I’d wanted them dead, they’d be dead. Besides, I wouldn’t waste a perfectly good grenade on Hawg. Think of the splatter.”
“Ugh! Bullet would be cleaner,” Axel said.
“Nah. The sleeper’s cleaner,” he said, referring to a quick method of killing they’d learned in training, which involved compressing the windpipe and carotid arteries.
“True. No leakage. Quick. But you’d have to get up close.”
“Yuck!” Troy mock-shuddered. He spread out his tools to start pulling the bike’s engine apart. The heads were running too hot, and he needed to work out why. It was unusual for this type of bike to have a heat problem.
Axel chuckled. “Hawg had to go home and change his pants.”
“I’ll be changing his face if he goes near Stacey.” He grabbed a tool and viciously wrenched a bolt free.
“Hey, don’t scratch the paint!” Axel said.
“Sorry, Precious.” Troy patted the bike.
“Hawg thinks you’re gunning for the VP position, now your service is finished.”
Troy frowned at his friend. “Who says it’s over? I’ve been offered a bonus to re-up. I don’t want Hawg’s shitty job.”
Axel snorted.
“It’s true. I’m taking a break.” He hadn’t made up his mind whether to re-enlist or not. The more he thought about it, a vacation with Stacey appealed—one that involved room service, a private room with a sea view, and a keep-out sign. He had heaps of cash stacked away from his years in the service. Not a lot to spend it on in the desert.
Axel stopped polishing Precious, staring at him owl-like. “This girlfriend the real thing? That’s not like you.”
“What am I, some sort of jerk who can’t keep a girlfriend?”
“You said it.” Axel grinned.
“I’m not letting Hawg cut up an innocent woman. It’s not Stacey’s fault that Lizzie ran off with Animal. Can’t blame her. Snake’s fucking the whores.”
“Idiot. He had a nice girl. He should have counted himself lucky,” Axel said. “So, you banging Animal’s little sister?”
Troy thought of the way Stacey responded to his touch, the way her body rolled with a sinuous motion as she came. But he didn’t want to discuss Stacey with anyone at the club.
She wasn’t right for this place. Her ladylike manners wouldn’t suit, even if he liked them. Hell, she thought bikers were losers, anyway, and she certainly wouldn’t like the lifestyle. She’d insulted them often enough. No, the only damn place that fit was his cock in her cunt.
There was a tinkle of children’s laughter, and a man came into the front of the store where the bikes were on sale, a little boy balanced on his shoulders. Troy watched as the man lifted his son gently in his arms and sat him on a huge Harley.
A sweet picture. But the happy-home-and-children dream wasn’t for him. Stacey would be into it, though. No doubt about that.
He heard the roar of bikes, one belonging to Pa. He’d worked on every brother’s machine because everyone asked for him at the shop when he was on leave. Each bike had a slightly different sound. Like his magic hands, his hearing was finely tuned.
Sometimes he wondered if it was because he’d always lived his life on the edge.
“Here’s fucking trouble coming,” Axel said. He went over to the vending machine and got a can of soda.
Pa was gunning straight for him, with Hawg pulling up the rear, and Pervert and Barf on his tail.
“That was a fuck-ass stunt you pulled yesterday,” Troy’s father spat out.
Troy stood, knowing it wasn’t smart to be on the ground if he had to fight. Pa wasn’t above ordering a beat-down on him. “Hawg’s hard of hearing. Thought I needed to get my point across.” Troy had a gun at his hip and a knife in his boot. No way was he letting them close.
Pa gave him a hard stare. “Your sister called your mother. She’s not coming home.”
“Guess she prefers Animal to Snake,” Troy said noncommittally.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Pa said. “Shacking up with that little slut because of some misguided loyalty to Animal? You don’t fool me none.”
Troy felt his jaw tighten. “She’s my old lady, so back the hell off.”
Pa made a deprecating noise. “She’s just a piece of pussy. A cold-hearted killer like you ain’t going to take on an ol’ lady.”
Troy’s temper roared to life. “That’s not a nice thing to say about the girl who’s going to be your daughter-in-law. And you know I don’t like sluts.”
Axel choked on his soda.
Pa’s eyes popped. He was never good with irony.
“Bullshit,” Hawg said. “You bring the whore here, or I’ll get her myself.”
It would have given him immense pleasure to gut Hawg right there and then, but the man and his little boy were looking at them through the shop window.
“Better go test your other grenades, Hawg,” Troy snarled. “See if you got a box of duds.”
He saw Axel trying not to laugh. Even Pervert and Barf had risked a grin. They were faithful dogs to Pa, but he guessed Hawg didn’t count in their loyalty stakes.
Whatever. Troy needed to squelch any doubt about his seriousness. “Tell you what, Pa. You bring Mom to my place for dinner tonight, and if you swear to talk real nice and not to cuss, I’ll let you meet the woman I’m marrying. But no Hawgs allowed,” he added, glaring at the VP.
If Mom thought there was even a speck of hope that Troy would settle down and produce grandchildren, Stacey would be safe for life.
Axel choked on his soda, spitting it across the paintwork of Precious. “Wait. What?”
“Don’t screw with me, boy,” Pa said with a scowl.
“The only one I’m screwing is my fiancée,” Troy said. “Tonight. Seven o’clock. It’s time you were introduced.”
Pa was speechless.
And Hawg? Well, Troy supposed it was lucky that Hawg didn’t shit his pants again.
As for Stacey…
Damn.
Like it or not, it looked like she was about to get a ring on her finger.