Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Maggie—
Driving across town, I pull into the parking lot of my brothers’ motorcycle repair shop, tires squealing and dust flying when I slam on the brakes. Through the open garage doors, I see heads turn.
Wrenching the door open with my shoulder, I climb out and stalk inside.
“The bar got robbed last night,” I spit before I even come to a stop, my eyes flashing fire.
Remy is squatted down next to a bike, a tool in his hand. He stops what he’s doing and stares intently at me. “What?”
Derek turns from the job he’s working on with another employee. He frowns and glances at Remy.
I catch the look they exchange.
“The place you bar tend?” Derek snaps.
“Yes.”
Cajun music plays in the background, reminding me of home.
When I left, I thought I’d escaped all the drama, but six months ago, my brothers showed up in town. How they tracked me down, I still don’t know.
Since the day they walked into the Gaslight Pub, I’ve never told them the truth. I don’t just bartend at the Gaslight. I own it. They would never believe that in a million years. After all, how could their younger sister ever purchase a business?
It’s more than just the fact that they’ve never believed I was capable of much that keeps me from telling them the truth. If I’m being honest, the real reason is I’m afraid they’d drink me dry, expecting freebies all the time.
I shift my weight. “A lot of places have gotten robbed in this town, and last night, Gaslight got hit.”
Again with the looks between them. What the hell is that about?
“How much did they get?” Remy asks, going back to his job.
“Everything in the register. Plus, they broke some stuff, the assholes.”
“Don’t you have a bouncer?” Derek asks.
“Yeah, there’s a bouncer, but these guys had guns.”
“Did you call the police?” Remy asks, his eyes narrow.
My hands hip my hips. “Of course, but they were long gone by the time the cops arrived.”
He shrugs. “Well, you don’t own the place, so it’s no skin off your nose how much they took.” He goes back to wrenching.
“Except it is. I work there. If the bar doesn’t make a profit, it’ll go under.”
“So what? You can get another job. It’s not like there aren’t other bars.”
“I don’t want another job. I like that place.”
Derek glares at Remy, then throws a tool, and it clatters on the concrete.
I frown at his reaction, trepidation filling me. “Are you guys fighting again?”
“Remy’s just being an ass. Same shit, different day,” Derek mutters.
“Hey, fuck you, asshole. You don’t like it, there’s the door.” Remy points outside.
Derek flips him off.
I know my brothers, and if this continues, they’ll come to blows. I don’t dare ask what they’re pissed at each other about, because that will only escalate things. I decide it’s time to change the subject, so I drop the bomb. “Did you guys know Sully is here?”
Remy tenses, the wrench in his hand pausing its twist, his laser focus flashing to me again. “What did you say?”
“Sully Bossier. He’s here in Durango.”
Remy comes to his feet, the tool clattering to the floor. “You saw him?”
“Yeah, he came into the bar this morning. And get this, he was with one of the Royal Bastards. Apparently, he’s one of them now.”
Derek strides closer, his brow lifted. “He’s a fucking Royal Bastard?”
“Yep.”
“No way. You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not mistaken. He stood as close to me as you are.” I motion between us. “I mean, I haven’t seen him since I was seventeen, but you think I don’t know the man? We all grew up together.”
Derek’s eyes shift to Remy, and they exchange a look.
“What’s that look about?” I ask, tired of their silent exchanges.
“What look?” Derek mutters.
“The one you just gave Remy. What the hell’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just fucking shocked he’s in town and with that fucking MC. That’s all.” He turns to Remy. “What’s it been, ten years?”
“Twelve. Did you talk to him?” Remy bites out with an angry look pointed at me, and I do know what that’s about.
“Nope. Not a word.”
“Didn’t he recognize you?” Derek asks with a frown, like he doesn’t believe it.
“Yep. He knew who I was.”
“You’re sure?”
“I could tell by the way he stared. He knew.”
“But he said nothing?” Derek asks, not letting it go.
I shrug. “I don’t think he wanted to admit he knew me, not in front of his club brother. At least, that’s the impression I got. So, I took my cue from him and didn’t acknowledge him either.”
“That’s fucking weird,” Derek muses, wiping his hands on a rag.
“That’s what I thought. Hell, the whole thing is weird. I never took Sully for the type of man to join an MC.”
“Your bar got robbed. Sully’s in town. Got any other big news you want to drop on us?” Remy asks, derision lacing his voice.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I slip my hands into the hip pockets of my jeans. “Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow some money.”
“How much?” Derek asks, not even asking what it’s for. I love that about him.
“Five hundred.” I wince.
“Five hundred?” Derek whistles.
Remy chuckles. “You think we’ve got that kind of money lying around? Sorry, Mags.”
“I can let you borrow a hundred, maybe,” Derek says, pulling out his wallet.
My eyes travel around the shop they opened not long after they came to town.
“How did you afford this place?”
“Worked our asses off for the money, same as always. We’ve worked hard for everything we ever got,” Remy snaps.
I doubt that. My brothers always look for shortcuts.
I bet half the parts in here are hot. Sully once accused them of stealing motorcycles and chopping them for parts.
He claimed half the bikes they rebuilt were on stolen frames.
I never wanted to believe it back then, but they always seemed to have money to feed their motocross addiction.
“You guys got any races coming up?” I glance toward their motocross bikes.
Mine sits right next to theirs. I haven’t ridden it since I left it behind in Louisiana.
Actually, I’m surprised they didn’t sell it.
Remy probably wanted to do exactly that, and knowing Derek, he stopped him.
I’m glad to see they brought it out here.
The area around Durango is great for dirt bikes.
I really need to get back on it. That, or maybe I could sell it for the money.
“No, but there’s one in a few months that’s supposed to have the biggest payout the sport has ever seen,” Derek says.
“Really? How much?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“Fifty grand. No one’s ever offered that kind of money before. Not in motocross. First place takes home twenty-five thousand dollars. Second gets fifteen and third gets ten,” Remy replies.
“Four hundred or two-fifty?” I ask, referring to the number of laps.
“Four hundred,” Derek says.
“Where?”
“That’s the best part. It’s close to us. Rock Creek Raceway outside Denver.”
“Are you entering?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah. If Remy and I finish first and second, we’ll get a huge payout.” Derek nods to the other guy in the shop. “Buddy might finish third.”
“Or first,” Buddy corrects.
Derek scoffs. “Right.”
“Maybe I should enter,” I suggest.
Remy huffs a laugh. “You? A girl against all of us guys? Be serious.”
“I am serious. Why not me?”
“You’ve never run a four-hundred, Mag. Those powder-puff races are nothing compared to a four-hundred and competing against men.”
I roll my eyes. The double-standard makes me want to scream.
My brothers have never encouraged my riding.
After they got inside my father’s head about it, he never took me again.
When they would leave out on the road to head to a racetrack somewhere in the country, I was left at home.
But I never forgot how to ride. I guess I should be lucky they kept my bike all this time.
My gaze hits the flyer they’ve tacked up on the wall. Twenty-five thousand dollars would solve all my problems. Hell, even the third-place winnings would do it.
“You see Sully again,” Remy warns in a voice that brooks no nonsense, and I turn to meet his eyes. He points a finger at me. “You stay away from him, understand?”
“First of all, you’re not my boss. And secondly, it’s not like I frequent the Royal Bastards’ clubhouse or even know where the damn place is.”
“If he comes into the Gaslight again, you tell me.” Remy arches a brow.
“Whatever.” I turn to leave.
“Mags.” His voice is sharp, and I turn back.
“What?” I snap.
There’s that finger again. “I mean it. Steer clear of him. He’s trouble, always was. And now that he’s part of that fucking bunch, it's especially true.”
“Fine.” I whirl on my heel and stalk toward my car.
Derek follows me, opening my door. “He can be an ass, but what he says is valid. You don’t want to get involved with the Royal Bastards, Maggie.”
“It’s not like I plan to, for God’s sake.”
“Here.” He holds out a folded stack of bills. “It’s all I can spare right now.”
“Thanks.” I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I’ve always been closest to Derek.
I climb behind the wheel, and he pats the roof. “Drive safe, kiddo.”