Truth or Beard

This left Claire, Repo, and me standing outside the bar. Claire was glaring at Repo. Repo glared at Claire. I split my attention between the two of them. I figured we were going to spend the next several minutes in silence as we waited. Neither of my companions seemed inclined to talk. Dislike as thick as sausage gravy rolled off my friend; whether her ire was pointed at this man, or this place, or both, I had no idea. She didn’t discuss her childhood, just a few slips and scraps of information here and there, enough for me to extrapolate that she’d never had it easy and considered the Order part of a dark past.

But then Repo cleared his throat and said to me, “I heard your…uh, your aunt died.”

I nodded once. “That’s right.”

He studied me for a long minute, so long I thought he was finished. Unexpectedly, he said, “I knew her when we was kids.”

I’m sure I looked as surprised as I felt. “My aunt?”

“Both the Franklin sisters, in Texas. Your granddaddy was my daddy’s boss.”

“At the ranch?”

“That’s right.”

“Huh.” I frowned at the coincidence and said, “Small world.”

“Not so small,” he mumbled under his breath, but I caught the words.

My curiosity was piqued. In fact, a prickle of cold something slithered down my back, so I asked, “So, what was she like? My aunt?”

His small smile was framed by a well-groomed salt and pepper goatee, and reflected in his dark eyes. “She was very pretty—beautiful—and smart. Smarter than me. And she was funny, she used to make me laugh.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, the cold slithering something settled in my belly. “Really? How’d she do that? What’d she do that was funny?”

“Play tricks, pranks mostly. She got me good a few times.”

I huffed a humorless, disbelieving laugh. “I can’t imagine Aunt Louisa being funny.”

“She was…she was wild, and she sure liked to piss off her daddy,” he responded absentmindedly, like he was talking to himself. His gaze lost focus, turning inward with nostalgia.

“Sounds like you,” Claire whispered, nudging me with her elbow.

I blinked. It did sound like me, and I felt an odd lightness in my chest; but it wasn’t a good feeling. I’d always considered myself an outsider in my own family. All my relatives in both Tennessee and Texas were the traditional type—well, everyone but Tina, but Tina and I weren’t much alike either. And now I knew Tina and I shared no blood.

My relations thought I was a bit strange, my sense of humor odd, my ideas about traveling the world a phase, and that my good sense would eventually prevail.

Maybe my birth mother had been like me when she was younger. In her case, I supposed that good sense did eventually prevail. She’d settled down, never got married, but she’d grown roots. After making millions with her ingenious patent, she spent her life organizing charity functions and getting her nails done. I shuddered at the thought.

“She changed,” I said and thought at the same time.

“Pardon?” Repo asked, like I’d woken him from a trance.

A harsh gust of wind sent my hair flying, so I gathered the chaotic strands at the base of my neck and twisted them, raising my voice over the music and the sudden breeze. “She changed. My aunt changed. I never saw her wild side.”

His expression blanked then shuttered; he studied me for a beat, then shrugged, his voice sounding abruptly distant as he said, “She did change.”

“Do you know why? Did she…I mean…did she ever have any boyfriends? That you remember? Like a high school sweetheart? Or maybe someone in college?” I ignored Claire’s confused expression as I interrogated Repo.

He didn’t answer. His eyes darted away, then back to mine, more distant than before. “You ask too many questions. A woman should know her place.”

I lifted an eyebrow at this odd shift in subject and the sudden impatience in his voice. Of course I’d heard the phrase A woman should know her place before, always from an asshole. But something in me couldn’t help playing dumb and poking a stick at this particular asshole.

So I asked, deadpan, “A woman should know her place? You mean, like her address?”

“No, baby girl. A woman should know her place. You know, on her back, or on all fours. Wherever her man wants to take her.”

I grimaced. “You’re joking.”

“I ain’t joking.”

Claire huffed.

“You’re serious? You really think that?” My voice raised a half-octave, unable to contain my disgust.

“He’s serious,” Claire deadpanned from her place at my elbow.

I sneered at him. “And your…your old lady? She thinks this way too?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have an old lady, not anymore.”

“What happened to her?”

Claire tugged on my elbow and warned, “You don’t want to know.”

I ignored her, horrified and curious. “No. Tell me. What happened to your old lady?”

“She didn’t like my fun, so I cut her loose.” Repo’s dark eyes seemed to be watching me closely as he said this, gauging my reaction.

“Your fun?”

“He means, his woman didn’t like him…” Claire struggled for a moment, like she didn’t know how to proceed; finally she settled on, “She didn’t like him fucking the club girls. So he told his old lady to get lost.”

“That’s revolting.”

Repo grinned, his white teeth now menacing. “Baby girl, that’s club life.”

“That’s revolting,” I repeated, then added, “and you’re revolting.”

I didn’t want to look at him anymore.

I didn’t want to talk to him.

I wanted to find Tina and get the hell out of here.

And just at that moment, Catfish and Drill reappeared. This time they came out of the main entrance to the bar and four other bikers were with them. I felt Claire stiffen at my side and take a step back.

“What the hell?” I heard Repo say, glancing over his shoulder. He turned completely around as they neared, his hands on his hips, standing between us and the approaching gang. “What the hell is this?”

The men kept advancing, and something about the set of their jaws and the steel in their eyes made my stomach drop.

“We need to go,” Claire backed up another step, pulling me with her. “Shit, we need to run. Run!”

But we were too late. They read our intentions before we could gain distance and these men moved like athletes. I’d only managed ten sprinted steps before I was lifted off my feet, big arms closing around my torso and turning me back to the bar.

I heard Claire screech and cuss, realized she was also being carried. Drill had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

I also heard Repo rage against the giant who was carrying me. “What the fuck is this? You get your goddamn hands off her right fucking now or I’ll break every finger in your fucking hand!”

“Sorry, Repo,” Catfish’s baritone rumbled behind me as I fought fruitlessly against his hold; I might as well have been clawing at a boulder. “Razor wants the girl.”

CHAPTER 27

“Travel far enough, you meet yourself.”

? David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

~Duane~

“Have you called Jess yet?”

I shook my head, staring out the driver’s side window of Beau’s GTO. It was the Friday after Thanksgiving. Instead of heading to the jam session and delicious coleslaw, we were on our way to the Dragon Biker Bar, unannounced and uninvited. We were presently stopped at the convenience store because Cletus needed duct tape. Jethro escorted Cletus into the store to ensure he didn’t dawdle. And I was driving because I was by far the best driver in case we needed to make a quick getaway.

I heard Beau curse under his breath next to me then say, “You’re such a dummy.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to call her. I just haven’t called her yet.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because I don’t have a plan yet, that’s why. I need to come to her with a plan, not just being stupid.”

“You are being stupid. What you need to do is call her, tell her you were wrong, beg for her forgiveness, say you’re ready to go whenever she is, and then meet some place for make-up sex. That’s how you do it.”

“She’s not going to forgive me that easily. That’s why I need a plan. Besides, I want all this mess with the Iron Order over and done with before I set things straight. They’ve taken too much of my time, been too much of a distraction.”

“You need to stop waiting for everything to be just right, Duane. Haven’t you wasted enough time already?”

“I’m not asking for your opinion,” I ground out.

Beau shook his head and sing-songed under his breath, “You’re making a mista-ake.”

The buzz of my phone offered an alternative to Beau’s meddling. Tina.

My message to her yesterday was clear: she was no longer needed.

She hadn’t responded. Not ’til now.

Tina: Tina can’t come to the phone right now. You should probably call your Uncle Razor, he’s got something you want.