Redemption (Northern Grizzlies MC)

Chapter 1

Vector

I can’t actually say anything when Roman pushes the door open without knocking. After all, it was Piercer that didn’t bother to fully shut it behind him.

“Prez?” he asks, not bothering to acknowledge that I’m already frowning in his direction. “There’s, uh, someone here from the gas company. They’re going to need access to the back end of the property in the next couple of weeks because of some project the county is handling, and they need to run it by you.”

“This is fucking bullshit,” I growl before closing the ledger that Bridget left for me to deal with while she’s out of town. Motioning him to give me a minute, I stand, holding the side of the desk to stretch my leg a bit before I join the others.

The numbers took up most of my morning, otherwise I wouldn’t have spent so long in one position. They all know I refuse to be hurried, but they don’t know it’s because I will not let any of them see me limp.

Securing the ledger in the safe, I grab my keys and make sure to lock my office door while I go handle this nonsense.

I was an infant when Jigsaw converted this old warehouse into our headquarters and my least favorite aspect of it is that the office is tucked right behind the bar. Notwithstanding the sound proofing that was installed, I’m constantly annoyed, not only at having to walk directly out into a group of people, but the amount of times guests come and try to yank the door handle off—ignoring the signage since they expect it to be a bathroom.

Today, when I walk out, there’s a semi-circle of my brothers surrounding a woman in a white hard hat and an orange vest. It’s when I see her long, bright red hair peeking out underneath the hat that I begin to suspect they got me a stripper.

Oak shifts, allowing me a better view just as the woman looks up, annoyance flashing across her face at all the attention she’s getting. Unless strippers stopped wearing make-up, she’s the real deal; and if the red streak on her neck is any indication, she’s also about to lose her temper.

I let out a whistle that would stop any New York City cab and everyone immediately freezes before looking my way.

“Christ, finally,” the woman mutters, holding her iPad up to put some space between her and Oak. “Are you Andrew Morgan?”

My given name draws a few chuckles from the men, but I nod, and she steps forward. From the second she’s within an arm’s length of me, my eyes lock onto her lips and I barely pay attention to what she’s saying.

There’s a long pause, and I realize she’s waiting for something from me. Looking up into her eyes I see how annoyed she really is—and I can imagine, she probably has a checklist of people who she needs to sign off on this project for the county. The problem is, she’s fucking gorgeous so I’m sure I’m not the only one who missed every single word of her spiel.

“Are you hearing impaired? Do you have someone who can interpret for us?” she asks me, hiding the flash of humor in her eyes by looking behind her to see if any of the men are nearby, and I can’t stop the bark of laughter I let out.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my hearing, I just can’t figure out what you’re doing working for VNG,” I respond, referencing her employer.

“They were hiring. Can you sign this, please?” The pitch of the woman’s voice has gone up a notch or two, and I know as well as anyone the temper that redheads are famous for. “It just acknowledges that you were informed that we’ll be working on your property.”

“No, I’m not signing it,” I tell her, crossing my arms to see what her next play will be. I know with utility easements the way they are, the gas company is within their rights.

“The county has signed off on this project and it is time sensitive, we need to show that…”

I cut her off, waving my hand to let her know I understand.

“Come on, why don’t you walk me back to the area your team will need access to,” I counter, knowing that I’m going to have to cave eventually, but I want to know what area they need to work in besides buying myself some time to get a read on this woman. “Just don’t get your hopes up about me signing that today. I’m going to need a copy emailed to my attorney for review. If he gives it the all-clear, I’ll sign it.”

She lets me lead her back outside and I see the truck with the company’s logo on the side, when she takes a step toward it, I speak up again, “I could use the walk.”

“Sure,” she says, after assessing me for a moment. “Let me just radio in so they know I’ll be delayed.”

I give her a tight grin, knowing she’s playing it safe in case I decide to chop her up and bury her on my land. She leaves the driver’s door open as she uses a radio to make the call, and different scenarios play through my head.

When I first heard her purpose, I was certain she was a cop or a Fed of some variety—except the depth of her accent, maybe from Texas or Louisiana, is the type of thing most agencies iron out during training.

Then the boot that’s hanging out of the vehicle is too well-worn, she didn’t just pick those up at the local discount store for this assignment.

“Prez,” Oak calls me from the doorway, signaling me over to him. “Digging up the property might not be the best idea.”

“No shit,” I softly reply. “God only knows if Jigsaw left any of his enemies around the place. I’m going to stall the project as long as I can. You and Crasher work together to figure out how to get ahead of this.”

With a click of his tongue, I turn in time to enjoy the sway of her hips as she’s walking back toward me. Until she catches us watching her and instantly tenses up, stepping with decidedly more purpose as she continues.

The sight of her neck reddening again brings back long buried memories of the pale skin, red-headed woman I loved a lifetime ago; but I can tell, that’s where any similarity between the two ends.

“Ready,” the woman says, trying to get me moving as I stand there assessing her.

I pat my pockets, then look around. “Hold on, let me find my axe and a bone saw.”

“You aren’t funny,” she shoots back, her dark eyes flashing at me as Oak chuckles behind me.

“My sister says that all the time,” I drawl out the words. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

Giving me the side eye, she points to her chest. Even under her uniform shirt and vest, I’d already clocked her tits, so I’m able to keep a straight face when I nod down to where she’s pointing.

The haughty look she’s giving me instantly changes to a startled expression when she realizes she isn’t wearing a name badge.

“Good thing my men saw me leaving with you. You could be a serial killer, luring me out to kill me in the woods.” I try to sound bored as I give voice to the worry that must have crossed her mind at some point.

“I’m sorry, I must have left it on my desk.”

I like seeing her flustered, simply because she’s had a shield up since I walked out of my office. For the first time, I feel like I’m looking at the woman she is and not the facade she holds up; undoubtedly because she works in a male dominated field.

“I’m Vector,” I say, pointing to the patch on my cut in an imitation of the wasted motion she had just made, as I turn to walk in the direction of the area they’ll need access to. “Nice to meet you …”

“I’m Sloane Folly,” she says, her smile telling me that she understands I’m giving her a do-over.

Her name sounds familiar and I repeat it over in my head, trying to place it. As she falls into step beside me, I’m thankful she isn’t particularly tall so I don’t have to strain my leg to keep up with her.

“Is that your house?” Sloane’s voice is softer when she chances a personal question and I needlessly look in the direction that she’s pointing.

“Yeah. I mean, kinda. I grew up there, but I let my sister have the place to herself.” I smile when I see how cozy the patio on the far side of the house looks and realize it reminds me of how it was when my mother was alive.

Bridget’s mom, Nadine, was never one for knick-knacks or throw pillows. Once she moved in, I rescued the items that mattered—feeling like I had lost my mom a second time when I boxed up the things she cared about and stored them in the basement. As far as I know, they’re still there, untouched, so maybe Nadine had a point.

“You’ve mentioned your sister twice now, you two must be close.” The wistfulness in her voice is unmistakable and makes me study her face again. That’s when I remember the name Folly.

“Was your grandfather a carpenter? Paul Folly, right?” I confirm that with her instead of discussing Bridget.

“Yes,” Sloane says, unable to keep the pride out of her expression. “I had the most elaborate dollhouse you could ever imagine.”

“I remember him, my dad wouldn’t use anyone else around here. May I ask if he’s still alive?”

“Yes, but he has terrible arthritis, so I moved up here to help him out,” she informs me.

“Where’d you grow up?”

“Here.” She stops suddenly, it takes me a second to realize that she’s not answering my question so much as she realizes that we’re close to the area that they’ll need to dig.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her how she figured that out without a theodolite, but Jigsaw must have used the phrase ‘the simplest explanation is usually the right one’ thousands of times, so I look around me and see an orange flag on top of a wooden stake, fluttering, just past the other side of my fence.

“We would need to remove two portions of your fence, then dig about ten feet in. When the pipes were originally installed, the main ones were just set haphazardly, depending on where gas hookups were needed. Now, the county is paying for a main line to run under their land with more organized arteries in place to service existing customers and be more user-friendly if new hook-ups have to be added in the future.

“Unfortunately, the pipes then run underground through to the other end of your property. So, we’re going to dig those up, remove them, then fill in the land for you. We will replace any grass that’s destroyed, but there’s no allowance for gardening and what-not. Due to this being the longest stretch on private property that we have to deal with, I would estimate ten business days at the very most,” she explains, finishing by looking between me and the area that she’s talking about. It’s more weeds than grass over here, and the other area is mostly gravel where we have overflow parking.

Ten business days. Unless they find human remains , I think to myself, unable to keep a lopsided grin off my face.

“Can I assume that there are other pipes leading to the house, garage, and the clubhouse?” I ask, since the imaginary line she’s pointing out doesn’t lead toward those buildings.

“Yes, but those would be considered private property. Virginia Gas would, naturally, fit them to the pipes the county is paying to upgrade.”

“Naturally. They just won’t pay for mine to be upgraded,” I clarify. My mind is clicking away, trying to find an angle where I can force the county to add mine in for free. Unfortunately, I have more to lose by raising a stink than going quietly along with the plan.

When my eyes shift back to Sloane’s face, she’s biting her bottom lip, telling me that she’s probably figured out my train of thought.

“Where did you grow up?” I repeat my earlier question.

“Louisiana,” she replies, her head swiveling between the direction she had pointed and her truck as if trying to decide whether we’re done here or if she should continue on. “My dad is Paul’s only child, he went down to Mardi Gras one year and hooked up with a woman from there. Mom’s whole family were roughnecks, and he became one also.”

“Are you off on Saturday?” I ask, becoming more intrigued about her by the second.

Her partial explanation makes me want to know more, but I hesitate, wondering why I give a shit about her story. I can’t even remember the last time I bothered to ask a woman what her name was. Bridget has long since given up on me settling down, or at least, she had until meeting her half-brothers and getting to know their Ol’ Ladies.

Maybe it’s the color of her hair, or something more, but nothing wrong with shooting my shot.

She tilts her head up at me in question, her eyes assessing my intent. My lips slowly spread into a wide smile, because yeah, I want her to see my interest.

“We’re having a joint birthday party for a handful of my brothers’ kids. Bouncy house, pony rides, the whole nine yards,” I tell her, hoping to keep her from running off. “Maybe, your granddad would get a kick out of coming by, and showing you the work he was capable of, back in his prime.”

Sloane’s eyes widen in surprise, the offer making her pause since I included her granddad. Without the shade from the brim of her hard hat, I finally notice that her eyes are dark blue, so dark they’re almost black. Another difference between them , a voice in my head volunteers.

“You know, I think he’d really like that,” she replies, her voice has softened, telling me I hit her weak spot. “I’ve been trying to get him out of the house more, but hanging out at the Elk Lodge listening to everyone’s ailments doesn’t seem to be cheering him up.”

The grimace I unconsciously make, tugs up one side of her lips.

“Any time after twelve,” I let her know.

“Can I bring anything? Maybe gifts for the kids?”

“Don’t worry about that, they’re spoiled as hell and the whole thing is being catered,” I assure her.

I stand, staring after the truck as she passes through the gates, barely paying attention to the sound of boots crunching on the gravel behind me.

“Vector, Crasher says the easiest way to run a search is with ground penetrating radar,” Oak tells me. “It’s expensive as shit, but there are rental options.”

“Which leave a paper trail,” I point out the obvious problem with that. “Does Tyrant’s cousin still have that construction job?”

“I can check,” Oak replies.

“It sounds like the type of equipment that construction companies might use.”

“It does, but I’ll check that, too.”

“I’ll set our lawyer on VNG, that should buy us a little time before they get started. I don’t need to know details, just let me know if you run into problems. Figure we have a week to handle this.”

With a nod, he heads back inside to deal with this, and I turn back to looking in the direction that Sloane went. The work truck she was driving is long gone, but I can’t deny the pull I feel.