Chapter Seventeen Abra
Rey’s words settle me. Standing, I drop two hundred dollars onto the table before offering her my hand.
Grasping her smaller one in mine, I feel a current flow through us.
There’s no denying that I’m attracted to her, and I’m reasonably sure she’s attracted to me, too.
At least the way her eyes travelled over my body earlier told me she liked what she saw.
It would be easy to take her to bed and enjoy exploring her body as I make her scream my name over and over, but I know that once won’t be enough.
No, once I have Rey in my bed, I won’t be able to let her go.
Her brothers and her being a lawyer made me wary of starting something with her.
But now that she’s admitted she’s somewhat flexible when it comes to the law, I am looking forward to seeing if this attraction can turn into something more.
I wave at Francois as we leave the restaurant.
We climb onto my bike and take off for the clubhouse.
Being on my bike is one of my favorite things, next to breaking through someone’s security and taking my prize.
However, having Rey on the back of my bike is like successfully breaking into Fort Knox and finding the Hope Diamond.
The vibration of the motor and the feel of Rey’s arms around me relax me, so it takes me longer than it should have to notice that someone is following us.
The sound of several horns honking behind me grabs my attention as I cross the freeway to reach the fast lane.
I spot the cause of all the commotion. A dark sedan is weaving between cars on a rapid approach.
I consider moving to the next lane over to see if they’ll pass, but then I spot the gun.
Jerking the bike to the left, I accelerate.
Cars honk as I fly past on the shoulder.
I expect to hear the sounds. After I’ve put some distance between us and the sedan, I pull back onto the freeway and race for the off-ramp.
Once I’m on the streets, I maneuver through traffic and cut through back alleys to make sure I’ve lost them.
When I’m reasonably certain that they’re no longer on our tail, I head for my destination.
When I’m less than a block away from the warehouse, I punch the remote to open the garage door.
The door opens slowly, but I’ve timed our arrival so that we slip in with inches to spare.
I immediately tap the remote to lock us safely inside.
In one fluid motion, I switch off the bike, slide off, and pull out my gun.
Keeping my back to the wall, I watch the street as the door lowers back into place.
Once it slams shut, I slide the lock into place.
Even if they saw the door closing, they wouldn’t be able to open it. They can’t get inside.
Rey steps to my side when I shift my attention to a monitor mounted on the wall.
It displays the camera footage for each of the cameras I have positioned outside and inside the warehouse.
With a press of a button, I can see the outside of the building all the way to the street.
We’re only watching for five minutes before I see the car pass by.
They don’t slow down, which I take as a good sign.
It means they didn’t see us take refuge and are still searching for us.
We watch in silence as they move past. We wait another ten minutes, but don’t see them again.
“Who were they?” Rey whispers.
“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out,” I tell her, using the keyboard to capture the image of the car’s license plate. I shoot the image to Pirate before turning to gather Rey into my arms. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. A little shaky, but I’m okay. It was over before I fully understood what was happening. What did happen?”
I chuckle. “I think they were after us. When I saw someone pointing something at us from the passenger’s seat, I took off. It looked like a gun, but I can’t be certain. I wanted to get us out of there.”
“Good thinking. What is this place?” Rey asks, glancing around the large, open space where I store my car and motorcycle collection.
I don’t know the original purpose of the warehouse.
When I purchased it, I gutted all three floors.
The ceiling of each floor is several feet higher than average.
On the outside, the warehouse appears to be five stories.
I’m guessing whoever built the warehouse needed to house some impressive equipment.
When I purchased the building, it was empty.
After pouring fresh concrete, I installed the garage door. The dark grey concrete and bright white walls serve as a backdrop to my car and motorcycle collection. The floor lights and overhead spotlights highlight the two rows of classic cars and the third row of motorcycles on display.
Rey steps over to the 1959 Triumph Bonneville to rub her hand over the leather seat. I purchased the classic British motorcycle in an auction when I was still performing as Lucifer’s Heir.
“These are beautiful,” she whispers. “Are they all yours?”
“Yes. I bought all of them, except for the 1942 Harley. I rebuilt that one myself after I joined the Demon Dawgs and discovered my love for motorcycles. I found it discarded out back when I bought this warehouse. Hex had helped me refurbish the bike. The two of us spent months searching for parts. I learned a great deal and had fun doing the work that eventually led me to open an auto shop. I have people who do the day-to-day work, but I pitch in on occasion or when I decide to work on a custom project.”
“Do you ever take these for a ride to show them off?”
“I do. I drive each of them at least once a month, usually more often than that. It’s been a while since I’ve taken any out, though. We’ve been dealing with a lot of shit, and I haven’t had the time. Would you like to join me when I do?”
Rey turns to me, a bright smile on her face as she nods. “I’d love that. I love history, and these vehicles all ooze history. It’s invigorating being surrounded by such beauty.”
Stepping forward, I drape my arm over her shoulder to lead her to the elevator. “If you think these are beautiful and love history, just wait until I show you what I have upstairs.”
“Is that a pick-up line you use on all your conquests?” Rey asks with a smirk.
I chuckle. “First, I don’t need a pick-up line,” I assure her with a wicked grin.
“Second, I’ve never shared this with anyone before you.
None of my brothers has seen what I’m about to show you.
They’ve seen the bikes and they’ve been to my apartment on the top floor, but no one has seen what I keep on the second floor. You’ll be the first.”
“Seriously? Why me?”
“Because I think you’ll appreciate it as much as I do, and I want to prove to you how much I trust you. You could send me to jail with what I’m about to show you.”
The elevator door opens to reveal my greatest secret. Rows upon rows of glass display cases containing a variety of items from jewelry to rare artifacts. Valuable paintings cover the walls. There are no windows on this floor, but the room sparkles under the overhead lights.
“Holy shit,” Rey says as she moves into the room and twirls around as she takes in the beauty and history surrounding her. “This looks like a museum. Where did you get all of these?”
I don’t immediately respond as she moves through the space, admiring the pieces under glass.
She loses herself in the beauty and doesn’t realize I haven’t answered her question.
I watch her face as she studies the pieces, while I wait for the inevitable.
Several minutes pass before her look of wonder turns to suspicion as she turns to face me. There it is—the look I was expecting.
“Where did you get all these pieces?” she demands again. Her tone shifted from one of awe to one of accusation.
“Let me tell you a story,” I offer, taking her hand and drawing her toward the far wall, where a sombre painting of a young woman dressed all in black.
The artist painted her under an oak tree with her young son asleep at her feet.
“Jean-Baptiste Greuze painted this in the 18th century. The young woman is a widow. Her husband was a soldier who died fighting in a war. He titled it La Veuve en Noir, The Widow in Black. Like the Harlequin figurine, a noble family smuggled this painting from France into the French Quarter during the French Revolution. It remained in the family for several generations until a disgruntled servant stole it during the Great Depression.”
Rey turns to face me and raises an eyebrow for me to continue. “How did you get it?”
I grin at her. “I stole it.”