Chapter 2
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The rush of traffic on Lombard Street whizzed by almost non-stop in the early evening hour. Glen rode his motorcycle out onto the street following Wayne Shaw with Chuck Milburn and Thad Bowers rolling behind him. The oncoming cars were forced to slow down for the motorcycle club.
Lifetime friends since they were all around the age of six, they'd formed Notus Motorcycle Club when they'd reached adulthood. Wayne had started the ball rolling and pledged in as president. Chuck was the secretary, and Thad swore in as vice president because it was his sister, Thalia, who'd lost her life after being kidnapped and murdered, that instigated their purpose to ride. Glen had pledged in as treasurer, committed to the lifelong choice of being brothers. Rich—an honorary Notus member — had left St. John's without a trace soon after the patches came in, unable to deal with Thalia's murder. To Rich, Thalia had been his one true love.
From the day they achieved permission from the territorial Motorcycle Club that ran the greater Portland area to ride under the Notus MC patch, they'd worked with St. John's Police Department to help find missing persons whenever they weren't working at Port Loaders. That was almost twenty-three years ago.
And every Friday, they went to Vavoom's Bar where they ate dinner and had a few beers if they weren't searching the streets for someone's loved one.
Two blocks later, all of them came to a stop in front of the bar and backed their motorcycles to the curb. Glen shut off the engine, removed his helmet, and whistled a tune. He was hungry and thirsty after working an eight-hour shift loading new cars onto cargo ships set for other places in the world. A few beers would have him looking forward to the weekend.
A car honked. He looked up and found three bicyclists trying to push their bikes across the street through traffic. The local rent-a-bike place across from the bar catered to tourists and yuppies who wanted to keep the world green. Unfortunately, that included the renters thinking they were entitled to cross a busy street instead of walking to the end of the block and using the crosswalk.
"One day, someone's going to get hit by a car and sue the city," muttered Wayne, pulling the leather strip holding his hair back and letting his long hair loose.
"Not our problem." Chuck stepped up on the curb and eyed a woman in shorts jogging along with a small dog on a leash and rubbed his shaved head. "Now that's a sweet piece of ass."
"Let's go in and grab a booth. I'm starving." Thad stepped up on the sidewalk.
The front door of Pauly's Peddlers swung open, and a familiar woman stepped outside. He squinted, studying her closer and grunted at recognizing the shaved head. He'd chased that woman down last week and got his wallet back.
He couldn't hear what she said to the bicyclists, but whatever it was got the people off the street and pushing their bikes down the sidewalk toward the crosswalk. She still smiled when her gaze swung in his direction. He stopped whistling and lifted his hand acknowledging her.
She looked completely different, except for glaring at him. Her black jeans showcased her slim hips and long legs. The breeze pressed her white flowing shirt against her breasts.
Damn.
He'd been a fool not to see through the rags she'd worn when he'd tackled her. She was beautiful.
The woman jerked around and hurried inside but not before he caught recognition on her face. She remembered him.
He inhaled swiftly. When she'd sprinted off running with his wallet, he'd nailed her for one of the street kids running wild in St. John's. It'd been dark. He'd been tired. And, she ran like a fucking leopard.
Without thinking, he'd grabbed and rolled with her, making sure he protected her from getting hurt. All he'd wanted was his wallet.
But, her slenderness and baggy clothes held curves he hadn't held for a while with his busy schedule. It hadn't been a kid he'd caught but a woman.
Wayne smacked Glen's back jogging him out of the memory of the woman's sweet body against his. "You coming?"
"Yeah," he muttered, turning away from the street and walked into the bar.
He grabbed a chair from an unused table and planted it at the end of the booth. He and Thad chose chairs, while Wayne and Chuck slid into the benches. Before he could sit down, Clara slid in beside Wayne and kissed her man.
He looked away and found Clara's identical twin sister, Gracie, sitting at the back booth alone. He glanced at Thad and motioned his chin in Gracie's direction wondering what was up. Since Gracie was kidnapped by her mother's murderer and rescued by Notus six months ago, she rarely sat in the bar and preferred to work from the office in the back.
"She's trying," whispered Thad.
"About time she gained control of her life back," muttered Chuck.
"Leave her alone, Chuck." Clara leaned against Wayne's side. "It takes a lot out of her to step forward."
"Not complaining." Chuck cleared his throat and tapped the table. "It's been a long fucking day."
"Maureen's getting everyone's dinner." Clara placed her head on Wayne's shoulder. "I know you guys need to go out and search tonight, but everyone needs to eat a hot meal."
Glen crossed his arms and gazed out through the darkened window to the businesses on the other side of the street. They wouldn't have time for a beer tonight. Notus was on the hunt trying to track down Alex Craine, a twenty-six-year-old man, who'd disappeared three weeks ago. His family and friends hadn't become worried until recently when Alex's phone stopped taking messages. They explained that Alex often would go away for a few days and not keep in contact with anyone.
Their biggest clue: Alex battled an addiction to heroin.
"Here you go." Maureen stepped between Glen and Thad, placing the plates in from of them.
Burgers and baked potatoes all around, Glen wasted no time, and the second the waitress left, he moved his chair closer to the table.
"What time will you be done tonight?" Clara passed napkins out.
Wayne finished chewing. "I'll swing by here and follow you home after work."
"I'll need to drop Gracie off at the townhouse first," said Clara.
Glen looked up, surprised to hear Gracie planned to spend the night in her own house. Since the kidnapping, she'd gone back and forth with Clara. Either spending the night at home with her sister or crashing at Wayne's when Clara stayed with him. Far as he knew, she hadn't stayed alone. Today seemed like a huge day of improvements for Gracie, and that made him happy.
"I'll let you guys finish eating." Clara kissed Wayne. "I'll be in the office if you need me."
"I'll find you before we ride out." Wayne picked up his fork and dug into the potato.
Glen stood, letting Clara out of the booth, then sat back down and dug in. He'd expected changes after Wayne settled down with one woman, but Clara only benefitted the club. He bit into the hamburger. He no longer had to pay to eat. The refrigerator in Wayne's garage was always full. Even Clara's random questions asking if he ate, slept, needed anything felt comfortable. Wayne done good getting a woman.
If he could find a woman out there that fit into his lifestyle and wanted to take care of him the way Clara had done for Wayne, he'd think about settling down.
He looked out the window as he lifted a forkful of potato soaked in sour cream to his mouth. The perfect woman would be easy going, always there, and sync with his personality. Not like the woman across the street who had tried to lift his wallet.
Women like her always questioned why men only wanted sex from them. Great to look at—more than great. But, the hard-core attitude would grate on him after five minutes. And when he spent time with a woman, he liked more than five minutes.
"What are you smiling about?" muttered Thad.
Glen glanced over at his MC brother, and his facial muscle relaxed letting him know he was fucking smiling for no reason. He cleared his throat. "It's Friday. What's the plan for tonight's search?"
Chuck tossed his napkin on his plate and leaned back against the seat. "We've already looked at camping spots around the area and the public places Alex would go to when he wanted to get away. At twenty-six years old, Alex is open to traveling the world. Nobody knows how much money he had. Somehow, he always had money to live on his own. If he was dealing drugs, he could have enough to get him halfway across the United States."
"It's time to let the family deal with an addict's crutch." Thad removed his phone and typed on the screen. "I'll have Gomez contact them and get the locations of where they'd picked him up in the past when he returned to shooting needles. As soon as we get a list, we'll head out."
Across the street, the door of Pauly's Peddlers swung open and the woman from the other night came out, holding the door open for a man and a woman pushing bicycles onto the sidewalk.
Even through the darkened window and the distance, her smile impacted him. Gone was the frown and defensiveness she'd given him.
"Yo, Glen?" said Wayne.
He looked at his president and lifelong friend. "What?"
"What's wrong with you?" Wayne pushed his empty plate to the center of the table.
"Nothing." Glen bunched the napkin laying on his thigh. "Why?"
"You weren't whistling." Wayne continued to look at him.
He shrugged. "Just ready to ride out."
Wayne studied him, then gave a curt nod, pushing his plate away. "Let me go see Clara, and then I'll be ready. We can ride Lombard Street over to Swan Island until we hear from Gomez."
Glen stood and walked out of the bar and to his bike. Looking at the front of Pauly's Peddlers, he found himself disappointed that the woman had gone back inside. He'd missed the chance to see her again. That was something he never knew he wanted. Not after he realized she wasn't a teenager and she blew him off when he'd tried to help her.
He'd tried to give her money, believing she stole his wallet. He cocked his head. Now he found out she had a fucking job.
Glen looked beside him and found Chuck leaning over his motorcycle. "Hey, give me a minute. If Wayne comes out before I'm back, tell him I'll catch up."
Chuck straightened, wiping his hands off on his jeans. "Where you going?"
"Across the street." He stepped off the curb, looked left and right, and picked an opening between the traffic flow, and jogged to Pauly's Peddlers.
Inside the shop, he strode to the counter before he even realized why he'd come looking for the woman. He wasn't here to look at bicycles.
A man with long gray hair and a tie-dyed T-shirt smiled. "Feel free to look around. If you need help finding a bike part or..." The older man laughed. "You're not here because you ride a bicycle, are you?"
"No." He quickly scanned the room. "There's a woman who works here."
"Two of them." He held out his hand. "I'm Pauly."
He shook. "Glen Steele."
"What can I do for you, Glen Steele?" Pauly's gaze dropped to his vest. "Glen Steele, a Notus Motorcycle Club member."
"There's a woman who works here." He held up his hand, level with his shoulder. "About this tall. Crewcut. She's got a white shirt—"
"That'll be Heidi." Pauly shuffled two steps back to the open door behind the counter and yelled, "Heidi, you have a customer."
Pauly stepped toward him and picked up the pen on the counter and lowered his gaze to the books. Glen moved over to a line of bicycles. All blue cruisers that bore the name of the business on the frame of the bike.
"You needed me, Pauly?"
Glen turned at the sound of the feminine voice, recognizing the husky quality and fascinated at the unfamiliar niceness of the tone. "I asked for you."
Heidi's eyes had widened before she caught herself. She glanced at him to Pauly and quickly walked out from behind the counter. "Yes?"
He motioned her to the front of the store. She seemed to grow more nervous the farther they walked, and he decided to go easy on her since she was working.
Heidi glanced over her shoulder at Pauly, and finally said, "What are you doing here?"
"I was wondering about what size of chain I need for my son's bike." He slipped his hand under her arm and continued until he got to the front of the shop where they wouldn't be overheard.
"You don't have to touch me." She rubbed her arm, and her shoulders rounded. "A chain? Really?"
"No, that's my excuse. I wanted to talk with you," he said, keeping his voice low.
She removed a box with a chain inside off the hanger. "I'm working. What do you want?"
He turned his back to the counter. "You tried to steal my wallet, and today I find out you have a job. Are you in trouble?"
She stepped closer, using his body as a shield to stay out of view of her boss. "I will be if you don't leave. I don't want to lose my job."
"You won't." He took the box out of her hand. "I’m buying a chain. What I need to know is if you're in trouble, because apparently, you need money, seeing as how you tried to rip me off."
"Sh." Her lips pressed together. "I didn't take any of your money."
"You took my wallet."
"Because I didn't want someone else taking it in the fight." Her shoulders rounded more, and she huffed a breath. "I ran because...because the fight got bigger and I was afraid of getting caught in the middle. I planned to give it back to you."
"How did you plan on doing that?"
"By taking it to the bar the next day." She straightened her spine and locked her jaw. "Is the chain the only thing you'll be needing today because we have an eighteen-inch Huffy that would be perfect for your son."
"I changed my mind." He held out the chain to her. "I don't need it."
She stepped around him, ignoring the box, and over her shoulder, loudly said, "I'll ring you up at the counter. We have the bike in blue and red. Which color would you like?"
He followed her. "I don't—"
"Oh, that's right. You said your son's favorite color was blue." She stopped a few feet from the counter, rolled out a blue bike, and leaned it against the kickstand. "Since you want to buy a new bike, the chain is free. Courtesy of Pauly's Peddlers."
Pauly, now sporting an unlit cigar, winked at him. "Good choice. Whoever will be receiving the bike will be very happy."
The damn woman pushed him into a corner. Glen's lip twitched, and he whistled low, pulling out his wallet. She knew he wouldn't do anything to make her lose her job and would have to fork over the money without making her look bad.
He tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and dropped the chain into his vest pocket. Heidi raised her brows. "The bike is one hundred and fifty dollars unless you want to customize it and I'd be happy to write you up an estimate."
His heavy exhale came out with a louder whistle. He removed a fifty from his wallet. The last bill he carried on him.
The satisfaction on Heidi's face kept him from verbally telling her he'd changed his mind. He turned, grabbed the handlebars of the Huffy, and lifted the bike off the floor. Pauly and Heidi thanked him, and he walked out the door without acknowledging either of them.
He had no use for a bicycle, and yet he found himself the owner of one.
Out on the sidewalk, he waited until the traffic eased and walked across the street carrying the bike. The more steps he put between him and Heidi, the angrier he became until he started thinking twice about letting her pull one over on him.
"What the hell, man?" Thad chuckled and pointed at him. "Selling your Harley and taking up peddling?"
"Fuck off," he muttered, walking into the bar and almost colliding with Wayne.
Wayne's gaze went from Glen to the bike. "What's going on?"
"I bought a bike. I don't know what the big deal is. It's like everyone hasn't seen a fucking bicycle before." He wheeled the bike to the back hallway and leaned it against the wall, then returned to the bar where Wayne continued to stand by the door watching him. "Donate it to the police department or set it out in the alley. Do whatever the fuck you want with it."
Without letting Wayne throw out any more questions, Glen walked outside. He started his motorcycle and let the engine silence the world around him. When the others pulled away from the curb, he followed. He had more important things to do than battle a woman who was determined to steal his money one way or another. There was a man missing, and Alex's family wanted him home.