Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maggie—
“Okay, hand it to me.” I’m on a ladder trying to repair the damaged ceiling tile those assholes shot up when they robbed the place.
Ray passes me the new tile. “I can do this, Maggie.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Anybody ever tell you you’re stubborn?”
“I prefer the term determined. And why shouldn’t I be the one up here fixing it? It’s my bar, isn’t it? And besides, you hate heights. You’d probably get woozy and pass out on me.”
“You also like to be right a lot,” he grumbles, turning to look when the front door opens.
I don’t even look. “That’s probably the glass guy,” I mumble and jiggle the tile, but it’s jammed on the bracket. “Come on, you son-of-a—”
I don’t finish the sentence; I’m suddenly yanked off the ladder by two strong arms.
“What the hell?” I struggle to twist to see who’s got a hold of me.
Keno.
My eyes widen. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He’s holding me tight, just under the boobs, and the strength of his arms and the sheer power is not lost on me. This time he’s in a short sleeve t-shirt, and all that pretty ink is on display.
“What the hell are you doing up on that ladder?” he barks.
“Fixing the ceiling tile. Put me down.” I kick my feet until he sets me on them.
“You tryin’ to give me a heart attack, woman?” he growls, raking a hand through his hair.
“Me? What do you think you just did? I almost had heart failure when you grabbed me.” My hands land on my hips, and I cock a brow, my eyes spitting fire.
Keno gestures to Ray. “This your employee? He’s the one who should be up there, not you.”
Ray looks like a deer in the headlights, not thrilled to have the attention of an angry Royal Bastard.
“Ray’s afraid of heights,” I defend.
“Fucking pussy. It’s a ladder, not a damn roller coaster,” Keno mutters.
Ray’s face flames red, and I feel bad for him.
“Hey, there’s no need for being a dick about it,” I snap.
The dangling ceiling tile drops to the floor with a bang, and we all jump.
Keno jabs a finger at me. “See? That coulda been you.”
I roll my eyes and fling a hand out at it. “Well, now I have to go back up there.” I stomp toward it and snatch it off the floor.
Keno takes it. “I’ll do it, for Christ’s sake.” He scrambles up the ladder, jams it in place with no trouble, and comes down, snapping the ladder closed. “Where’s this go?”
“I’ll take it,” Ray says, and I’m sure he’s in a hurry to retreat, so I give him a chore.
“Could you double-check our Heineken stock while you’re back there? The supplier called to see if we needed more on this week’s delivery.”
“Sure.” He makes a quick exit, and Keno stands with his hands on his hips, watching his retreat with disdain.
“Can’t you get better help than that?”
I fold my arms. “Ray is a great employee. Never misses a day. You need to mind your own business.”
“Darlin’, for now, everything about you and this place is my business. Which brings me to why I’m here. Grab your jacket.”
“Why? I’ve got work to do.”
“It’ll wait. Got somewhere I need to take you.”
“Says who? Rock?”
“No, but I can make that call if you need it to come from him.”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about? Go where?”
“See about improving the security here.”
I assume he’s talking about putting in an alarm or more locks, so I stomp toward the back and poke my head into the storeroom. “Ray, I’ve got to run out. Can you let the glass guy in when he gets here?”
“Sure, Maggie. No problem. Can I talk to you about something?” His eyes go over my shoulder to Keno when he asks me.
I glance back at Keno.
“I’ll wait outside,” he grumbles.
When he’s gone, I turn to Ray. “What’s up?”
“Are you going off with him?”
“Yeah. Something about adding security. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Please be careful. These guys are dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
“They’re not the kind of men you mess around with, Maggie.”
“I know.”
“Do you? I’m worried about you.”
“I can take care of myself. Keno’s not a bad guy, and Rock would never let any of his men hurt me.”
“Still. Be careful.”
“I will. If I’m not back when the glass company is finished, lock up for me?”
He sighs and returns to counting, obviously not liking that I’m leaving with Keno. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“Thanks.”
With that, I head out the front door to find Keno sitting astride a very sleek black motorcycle with lots of shiny chrome. It’s parked in one of the diagonal spots, its rear tire to the curb.
Keno twists when the door opens, and his eyes scan over me. Then he pulls a helmet out of his saddlebag and holds it out.
I stare at it. “We could take my car?”
“You afraid to climb on the back, Six?”
Afraid? Never. I accept his challenge, lift my chin, and climb on behind him.
He looks over his shoulder. “You ready?”
I nod.
“Hold on.”
I wrap my arms around him, which brings my body plastered against his. I can’t help the zing of reaction that dances along my skin. His body is taut and muscled.
With a twist of the throttle, the bike roars out, and we ride through town. Seeing the place from the back of Keno’s Harley is like seeing it for the first time with no windshield between me and the breeze. I feel alive as we ride through downtown.
Soon, Keno is leaving all that behind and heading out on the highway leading out of town.
I tap his shoulder and lean to his ear. “Where are we going?”
He reaches back and pats my thigh, calling over his shoulder. “You’ll see.”
About ten minutes later, he turns in at a large lot with a huge log structure.
“What is this place?” I ask as he parks next to about four other bikes. I glance around, half expecting to see a roadside diner sign somewhere, but there’s nothing.
We climb off the bike, and he stores the helmets, then takes my hand.
“Come on.”
In the back of my head, I’m still thinking this must be some kind of roadhouse restaurant.
Even when we walk through the door, I still think that.
There’s a bar area to the right and a big room with a huge stone fireplace, lots of seating, comfortable leather couches around the hearth, and a couple of pool tables toward the back.
Then I spot the men at the bar. Every one of them is dressed in leather cuts with Royal Bastards on their rockers.
Oh. My. God. Is this their clubhouse?
Keno tugs my hand. “Come on.”
He leads me over to the bar, and I spot Rock at the end, deep in conversation with his VP, Darko, whom I’ve met on several occasions.
Keno motions to the guy behind the bar. “Get us a couple longnecks, prospect.”
“Coming right up, sir.”
A moment later, two ice-cold bottles are set before us.
Keno takes a slug off his, and I timidly sip mine, wondering what the hell we’re doing here, but insanely curious and taking it all in. My eyes rove over the back bar with its ornate wood and huge mirror.
Other than a couple of bras hanging behind the bar and the pool tables and dartboards, the place looks nice—not at all what I would have expected. But then, I’ve never been in a biker clubhouse, so what do I know.
“What’s up, Nomad?” Rock asks.
“Thought I’d give Maggie a lesson in how to shoot a gun,” Keno replies, and my eyes bug out.
“What?” I almost spit out my beer. “I don’t have a gun.”
“You need one,” Keno says, then looks at Rock. “Don’t you think she needs one?”
“Yeah, I believe she does. You gonna solve that for her?”
“Thought I might,” Keno replies, then digs under his cut and pulls out a small handgun, laying it over his forearm with the butt toward me. “I got this for you.”
“Got it for me? You mean you bought it?”
“Something like that.”
I start to reach for it but hesitate. “Is this gun stolen?”
Keno chuckles. “No, Maggie. But it’s also not registered to you, so it’s just for emergencies.”
I stare at it like it’s a snake. “I’ve never had a gun. I don’t know the first thing about them. I’ve never even touched one before.”
“That’s why we’re going out back and practice. You’ll be Annie Oakley in no time.”
“Way to overpromise and underdeliver, brother,” a man says.
Keno elbows him. “Shut up, asshole.”
“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your lady-friend?” the man asks, then reaches around Keno to extend his hand to me. “Name’s Shack, but you can call me Handsome.”
“I’m gonna call you an ambulance if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Keno snaps.
“Promises, promises. What’s your name, girly?”
I shake his hand since it's still hanging in midair.
“Maggie.”
Keno pushes our hands apart. “That’s enough. Come on.”
He takes my hand and pulls me behind him toward the back door.
“Hey, wait for me. I don’t want to miss all the fun.”
I glance to see Shack grabbing his drink and following.
Keno leads me down a hall and out a back door.
There’s a wide grassy area with some picnic tables scattered near the back door, but further away I see a line of empty beer and whiskey bottles on a plank. Before us there are two posts with a board nailed on top like a counter.
Keno sets his beer on top and shows me how to load the weapon.
We spend about five minutes on the gun, then he pops a cartridge of bullets in. “Now comes the fun part.”
“Oh, yay,” I say with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“You really doin’ this?” Shack asks, sipping on his drink and watching.
“What’s the matter, Shack? Afraid she’ll turn out to be a better shot than you?” Keno snaps.
Shack flips him off.
“Everybody’s a better shot than Shack,” Keno teases with a grin aimed at me.
“Go stand there by the targets, fuckface. Bet you twenty bucks I hit you.”
Keno chuckles. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Shack.”
I shade my eyes and stare at the targets across the grassy area. “Am I supposed to be able to hit those?”
Keno lifts the gun. “Let’s start with the basics.”
“The basics?”
“Ever fire a gun?”
I shake my head.
“Ever hold a gun?”
“Nope.”
“This is a 9mm. Let’s start with how to load it.” He presses a button on the side of the handgrip, ejecting the magazine.