Chapter 6
6
Amelia
M Y MOUTH FELL open while I absorbed Morse’s proud announcement. I’d hoped he would tell me I was mistaken, but he’d only confirmed my suspicions. “A biker den? That’s your idea of a safe house?”
“Not just any biker den. This is the home of the Dead Presidents.”
“Yeah, you said that,” Thia replied. “Are we supposed to be impressed?”
“You expect my teenage daughter to stay with a motorcycle gang?” I added.
“Not a gang, a club. And yes. We’re all veterans.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better. You forget. I’ve spent my entire life around military men. The only difference between vets and recruits is that vets usually have a little more game and are faster at getting women into bed.” I babbled when nervous, and this was one stressful situation. “Granted, not always. And not all of them respect the word ‘no’….”
Fire ignited in his eyes as he took one step toward us and cut me off. “These vets will. Nobody will touch any of you. I can fucking promise you that.”
The vehemence in his tone made me want to step back. But strangely, it also made me want to lean forward. I hadn’t felt protected since Ted died, and there was something about it that made every cell in my body stand at attention. His gaze lingered on me, and his jaw ticked.
Thia still looked less than impressed. “Okay. So, you expect the three of us to entrust our virtues to a gang of horny veterans?”
“Not a gang, a club.” Frustration tinted Morse’s tone as he raked a hand through his short hair and returned his gaze to me. “These guys... that shit doesn’t fly around here. My brothers fiercely enforce consent. They won’t mess with any of you, but especially not Morgan. They know what I owe you and Ted.”
He made us sound like saints.
“Ted was a recruiter. He was doing his job.”
Morse stepped forward, reaching for me. I wanted him to grab my shoulders again, but thankfully, he stopped shy of touching me. His gaze captured mine, and the intensity in his steel-blue eyes snatched my breath away.
“The Air Force didn’t send me bus fare. They didn’t doctor my leg or house me for months while I got my GED. That was all you two. You cared for me—for a guy you didn’t even know—because it was the right thing to do. You showed me that decent people do exist in this world. That club... the Dead Presidents... it’s full of people just like you. I swear to you there’s nowhere safer. We won’t let anything happen to you or your daughter.”
Why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe?
“Cool speech, bro, but what about me?” Thia asked, hand on her hip, the image of indignant.
His lips quirked. “Or Thia. My brothers may be a little rough around the edges, but they’re upstanding guys. I’ve vetted every last one of them myself, and I’m damn good at what I do.”
“Modest, too,” Thia said, though I could tell he was winning her over.
“Most modesty is bullshit. I’ve always preferred honesty, myself.” Ducking his head, he took a step back and waved us forward. “Come on. I’ll show you around. Then we’ll have some of my brothers lug your stuff to your rooms.”
The moment he turned his back, Thia elbowed me in the side and mouthed, “What the hell is going on between you two?”
Since I had no clue how to answer that, I pretended I couldn’t read her lips.
We freed Bailey from her kennel and half led, half dragged her toward the door. Along the way, I realized the booms growing steadily louder as we approached the building were actually bass.
“Is that music?” Morgan asked.
Morse’s expression turned apologetic. “Yeah. We’re having a little get-together tonight.”
“A biker party at the safe house,” Thia grumbled. “Nothing to worry about here.”
Despite our valid reservations, Morgan confidently followed Morse. We had no choice but to fall in line, partly because we wouldn’t let her go in alone and partly because we didn’t want to be left in the parking lot. Morse introduced Zombie and Brick, the two sketchy bikers smoking outside the door. Neither ogled us. Instead, they behaved like perfect gentlemen, spouting off with more of that ‘ma’am’ nonsense until Thia threatened physical violence if they didn’t stop. All in all, she acted more like a biker than they did.
The entrance was well-lit, giving us an illuminated view into the hallway beyond. We were really doing this. I grabbed Thia’s hand, leaning my shoulder against hers. “Thank you. For being here with me.”
“Oh, honey, friends do not let friends flee for their lives to a biker den alone. Ride or die, baby.”
“Maybe not the best slogan for this adventure.”
She chuckled and bumped me off her shoulder. “It’s perfect, and you know it.”
Morse led us into the hallway, and the music grew significantly louder. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “I’m sorry about the noi—.” He stopped and stared at me.
I was singing along with the music. It was AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.” How could I not? The song was a classic. But his expression had my heart stumbling between beats.
What was that look?
Better yet, what about it tripped up every feminine sensibility I possessed? Not like there were many. I was a strong, independent woman who was used to doing everything on my own. I wasn’t even sure what feminine sensibilities were. All I knew was if he didn’t stop looking at me like that, my panties were going to burst into flame.
“What?”
“I missed your singing,” he said before turning and continuing down the hall.
Like that had been a perfectly normal exchange.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t remember how to breathe. Was this a heart attack? Another thrilling side-effect of perimenopause? Punishment from the universe for even entertaining the idea of going cougar?
Thia elbowed me again. “You have some explaining to do.”
We followed Morse past a series of offices, restrooms, and a cafeteria before entering a giant party room that smelled of booze, leather, and bad choices. Bikers stood around drinking while couples gyrated and grinded against one another on the dance floor. A redhead who appeared to be in her mid-twenties looked dangerously close to busting out of the strips of leather barely covering her boobs and ass. I moved to block Morgan’s view as we skirted the party, sliding past busy pool tables and dart boards. The bikers who saw us waved a friendly hello at Morse and cast curious glances at the rest of us but didn’t engage. The music was so loud that poor Bailey was probably peeing her doggy diaper as she dipped in and out of Thia’s legs, tangling up her leash. Despite it all, I still felt oddly safe as we followed Morse up two flights of stairs and down a hallway with rooms on both sides like a hotel corridor.
We could barely hear the thud of the bass up here. Stopping in front of a door, he pointed at the end of the hall. “Women’s bathroom is that door right there. Community showers and toilets.”
“Like a dorm,” Morgan said.
“Exactly.” He opened the door and gestured for us to precede him. “You’ll have this and the room to the left. I would have gotten you three, but figured you’d want to keep Morgan with you, and these are the only ones currently available.”
I nodded, taking it in. Queen bed, sofa, dresser, television, closet, and apartment-sized refrigerator. All the necessities were covered, and it smelled clean. Bailey immediately scooted under the bed, and Thia dropped to her hands and knees to remove her leash. Bailey whined and shuffled around before falling quiet.
“She gonna be okay?” Morse asked.
“Yes. We should all say a prayer of thanks that Thia and Morgan got the diaper on her. Thanks again for letting her come. And for everything. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you believe I’m in danger.”
He nodded, his expression stoic. “You. Are. I’m glad I can help. The room next door doesn’t have a fridge. A brother who moved out left this one.”
Showing us the other room, he pointed out the keys hanging from a hook by the door before pulling me aside. Dark blue eyes captured mine as he leaned closer.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know you’re all here. Safe. Anyway, I know this is a lot, and you need time to get acclimated, but I need to steal you away for a few minutes. Havoc and Rabbit are rounding up a team to tackle this little problem of yours. We need to interview you and come up with a suspect list. There must be a reason someone put this hit out on you, and the sooner we figure out what that is, the sooner we can confront them and get you guys back home to your normal lives.”
That sounded wonderful, so I nodded. “Okay.”
“Not so fast,” Thia said, butting into our conversation to grab my hand and tug me to her. “First, my bestie and I need to have a little conversation.”
He opened his mouth, but she threw up a finger—thank God, it wasn’t the middle one—and tugged me into the hallway between the rooms.
“You.” She stabbed the finger at Morse. “Make sure none of your bikers bug our girl. We’ll only be a minute.”
Thia started to tug me away, but I peered into the room. Morgan had her face glued to her tablet as she relaxed on the sofa like she didn’t have a care in the world. She’d made herself at home. In a biker den. My girl was all about schedules, and we’d thrown a monkey wrench into hers. She had school Monday. One week left before spring break. And she wasn’t freaking out.
Like me, she felt safe here.
“You okay for a few minutes, honey?” I asked.
Her hand shot up in a wave. “I’m good.”
“Thia and I will be right next door.”
Her head moved in acknowledgment.
I gave Morse an apologetic smile, and it hit me that it wasn’t the place that made me feel safe. It was him. “We’ll be right back.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but she dragged me into the second room and closed the door, effectively cutting him off. As soon as we were alone, she spun on me, dropping my hand to clap hers on her hips.
“There’s a whole hell of a lot going on here you haven’t told me about. Who is this hot, nerdy biker? And why does he look at you like you’re the best thing since the internet?”
“Will you lower your voice?” I whisper-shouted. “He’s right outside. And he’s eight years younger than me.”
“Oh, honey, I don’t think he gives a single fuck about your age.”
She was being ridiculous.
“It’s not like that. We haven’t been in contact since he went into the service. I haven’t seen or heard from him since Ted’s funeral. Well, other than Morgan’s car.”
“Which brings me to my next point.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “He obviously paid or cashed in a favor for the repairs. And he’s been monitoring your name on the dark web. That’s romantic, in a borderline personality disorder, paranoid sort of way, right?”
“Nothing romantic about it. More likely a misguided sense of obligation because Ted and I helped him out.”
“How long did he stay with you?”
I shrugged. “A little over six months. Why?”
“And he never made a move on you?”
“Of course not. He was eighteen, and I was married to his recruiter with two children. The leader of the cult he escaped from sicced the dogs on him, and I doctored his leg. When he recovered, he helped me with my charity, gave me a hand with the kids and housework, and we became friends. He was always a perfect gentleman.”
“Well, honey, I would bet my entire shoe collection that your perfect gentleman wants you to sit on his face.”
“Look at me.” I gestured at my body, acutely aware of how different it looked from how it had looked seventeen years ago. I weighed about thirty pounds more than I had at Morse’s age, most of which was around my middle. “Did you see the women downstairs? Even if there wasn’t an age gap, guys rocking bodies like Morse’s are not into women who look like me. There’s no way.”
“Shut your face right now before I slap it off. Any single, heterosexual male between the ages of twenty and one hundred would be stupid not to want to get with you.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Point is, any biker here would be lucky to have you. Don’t sell yourself short, Amelia. You’re pretty fuckin’ incredible.”
She always knew how to hit me right in the feels.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
She grinned. “Of course you do. I’m pretty fuckin’ incredible, too.”