“Hey, boss, it’s all a go over here. We’ve got our man in play at the state border and we should be just about set. We have a few more connections to make, but it’s smooth as butter over here,” Tucker’s deep voice rang out from the other line of the cell phone, crackling because of his poor reception.
“Alright, Tuck. I got it. Just finish the job and get back here,” he said shortly before ending the call. The poor fucker was in the middle of nowhere Utah, checking to make sure the fake shipping papers they had would fly so it was no surprise that he didn’t pick up a signal from that remote location.
They’d chosen it carefully, after weeks of watching all the routes in and out of the state because it was the least manned and rarely checked. But they had to be ready just in case. He hadn’t become vice president of the Dirty Cruisers because of taking stupid risks. No, he did take risks, plenty of them--that was the name of the game--but each one was well thought out, weighted and measured, before putting any plan into action. Regardless, there was always a surprise. Always something that could go wrong.
Viper was still bitching at him about being sidelined from the pick-up job and Joel knew he needed some action soon or he’d explode, like a ticking time bomb. These weren’t men who were used to staying cooped up. It was part of the reason they had chosen this lifestyle. There was a freedom to it that they all craved.
The way it felt to have a steel engine purring between your thighs as you rode down an empty highway, the wind blowing away the scent of any shit in your life. That was all he’d ever wanted. And he’d found it, and his new family, with the Dirty Cruisers.
He’d never had much of a real family before joining the club. His father had been a drunk, and a mean one at that, willing to take his rage and feelings of ineptitude out on anyone: his wife, his five year old son, it didn’t matter. Joel could still see the look in his grey eyes, just like his, but red-rimmed from the alcohol and bloodshot from long nights gambling away what little money they had.
He remembered the night, that last night, burnt into his memory like a brand. Painful, everlasting. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table, it’s dingy pealing linoleum getting in the way as he tried to draw something on the scrap of paper in front of him. He was a quiet kid, had learned to be because the slightest noise could set his father off and he never knew when it was coming, or if it would be him, or his mom, that caught the brunt of his reaction. He’d only been five at the time, so he knew he couldn’t blame himself, but it didn’t stop the guilt that ate at him.
His mom had been cooking something at the stove when his father stumbled in at almost nine o’clock in the morning, drunk as sin, and had obviously lost whatever game he’d bet on. They could both see it, could read it in his silver eyes, once so clear, now clouded with anger and alcohol. He’d come in swinging and Joel had done the only thing he could. He had jumped up and ran in front of his mother, thinking to protect her, and his father had been enraged. A vicious backhand had his five-year-old body crumple to the ground but he’d still been conscious. He had been still able to watch as his father pummeled his mother, already frail and fragile under the years of his abuse and she had fallen backwards, reaching for anything to save her, and her arm had landed on the hot stove.
He could still remember the smell of burning flesh, the cry of agony as his mother had cried out and his father had stood there, watching through glazed eyes as if he didn’t even know how he’d gotten there. Then, he’d just turned and walked away, laid down on the couch and, a second later, was snoring loudly, sleeping off whatever drunk he’d come home with.
It had been young Joel that had grabbed the ice to wrap around her burn, him that had gotten her up on her feet and to the car to drive to the hospital. It had been the last straw for her, he could see it in her eyes, once so full of life and laughter, and after that, they were broken.
The doctors had treated her burn and, after they left, they hadn’t gone back to that house at the end of the street with the peeling linoleum table. They’d driven away, and scraped by as best as they could, and he’d never seen his father again.
But his mother had never been the same after that, and she had just…faded as the years went by. By the time Joel was sixteen, she was nothing but an empty shell and, a year later, she was dead. He hadn’t been surprised, or even sad. Just numb. She’d been gone for a long time before that. This was just her body finally giving up as well, unable to continue without her heart or mind to sustain it.
After that, Joel dropped out of high school, learned to wrench at a local garage and had fallen in love with motorcycles. He felt it from the very first moment, sitting on that soft leather seat, revving the engine and feeling it roar as it took off in whatever direction he wanted to go. He was in control for the first time in his life, and he’d absolutely loved it.
He’d been on his own for years before finding his way to Colorado, drawn to the vast open spaces and sprawling mountain ranges. To him, there was nothing more beautiful than that ink black sky strewn with stars with the black silhouette of the mountains that laid across it like velvet. Unless of course, there was woman with him under that inky black sky.
The thought made an image of Carla instantly appear in his head and he would have cursed if not for the way his heart melted, and then picked up its pace in his chest. Maybe he should have cursed because of it. He was the king of one night stands. Love em’ until they can’t walk straight and then leave em’ was his policy. So then why wouldn’t this one stay out of his thoughts? He was attracted to her, there was no doubt about it. He could tell just from looking at her that she was exactly the type of woman he loved in bed, innocent on the outside, wild on inside, with that submissive streak edged with challenge and strength that drove him crazy.
Joel had dreamed of her every night, waking up hard and needing relief, and, over the past few days, he’d been thrown from one problem to the next. The last thing he needed was to be hung up on this girl. No, he needed to focus on the job in front of him. The progress on their plan to move the weed across state lines into Utah was going smoothly, so smoothly it had him wondering what their next step should be and that brought him circling inevitably back to Carla again, and the plan that Hot Wheels had concocted.
In reality, it was a good plan, and if all went well, it could work out well for everyone involved, but it meant bringing Carla deeper into the job, getting her more involved and that meant she would be culpable if any shit went down.
He could picture so clearly the excitement on her face when Hot Wheels had made her suggestion, her idea of bringing Carla in to get another shipment of weed and splitting a portion of the share with her. It had been painful to see how much it had meant to her and he had wondered at the time if there was more going on than he knew.
A quick chat with Wheels after Carla had left had filled him in on the missing details, and almost sent him into a blind rage at the thought of her boss taking advantage of her like that. Hot Wheels had calmed him down, and he had told Carla to think about it for a few days before she decided anything. The truth was, he’d needed a little time himself. There was nothing he despised more than men who hurt women, and the thought of someone hurting Carla was more than he could take.
His phone rang again and he answered it without bothering to look at the caller ID. It was probably Tuck again.
“Hey,” he said brusquely.
“Hello?” came the answer, soft but firm, and his body was on instant alert as her voice slid over him from the other end of the line. “Hi, it’s Carla.”
“I know,” he said with a sardonic twist to his lips. He could recognize her voice just from his body’s reaction alone.
“I called because I’ve thought about it, and I made up my mind,” she paused and he could hear her draw a deep breath in the silence, “I want in.”
Joel was silent for a moment, a part of him thrilled at her words. Not just that it would mean they would be working together, but because the inner strength that he’d seen in her that first day in the truck had proved true.
“Are you sure? You know what this means, right? If things go south–”
“Well, you’ll just have to make sure they don’t,” she cut in, and he had to hold back a chuckle at the new sassiness in her tone.
“And I am sure,” Carla continued, “I know what I’m doing, I know the risks, but…it’s my only chance. My best chance, and I’m going to take it and you’re not going to talk me out of it!”
“Okay, okay!” he said, forestalling her, “Alright, well, if you’re sure, why don’t you come by the clubhouse later tonight. We’ll talk through all the details then.”
“Okay. I’ll be there,” she said, satisfaction filling her voice.
“And wear something nice,” he added at the end, impulsively. Even he didn’t know why he’d said it, but the thought of her in something dark and slinky had his mind going to places they had no business going. He heard her indrawn breath and hung up the phone before she had a chance to ask any questions. Because he sure as fuck didn’t have any of the answers, not even for himself.