Chapter Four
The huge man in front of me gripped my hand. Far too tightly than was necessary. I’d come across men like this before. He exuded power and challenge, and that arrogant look on his face told me he was used to getting his own way. I gripped back, making sure the gesture was slow and steady. A message that I wouldn’t be fucked over.
“Fury.” He told me, stating it like it was a name that I should know.
“Fury? Nick name?”
“Bike name.”
“Bike name?”
“I’m the Vice President of the Northern Kings MC.” And now that sounded familiar, and I suddenly made the connection. Guess Dave had followed my instructions after all.
“Sit down, Mr….”
“Fury. Just Fury.”
So, it was like that, then.
“Please, Fury. Have a seat.”
I watched him lower himself into the fabric office chair in front of the dated desk. The chair creaked, and for a moment I was sure I’d seen it move, and I half expected it to cripple under his frame, but it held true, settling into place without another whimper.
“How can I help you?”
“Well,” he pulled his right leg up, folding it to about ninety degrees and propping it on the other. “I understand there is some issue with the funeral of our president?”
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to be more specific.”
His dark eyebrows pulled together, irritated but not annoyed.
“Ste Carter. You are dealing with his body and his funeral.”
“Yes. We are.”
“And there’s an issue with the account?”
I glanced at my computer, typing in the surname and watching as the details of the account, one of the first to be transferred to the new electronic database, came to life in front of me.
“And what is your relationship with Mr Carter?”
“I’m the Vice President of the bike club.”
I scanned the account, looking for the information I’d uploaded late last night.
“I’m sorry Fury. I don’t have you on the account. Unless you go by another name?”
“Well, who do you have down there?”
“I can’t tell you that. Client confidentiality,” I added when his brows knitted even further together.
I don’t think I’d appreciated quite how dark his eyes were when he’d first walked into my office. But now, as his irritation morphed to something else, I noticed. They were deep brown. So dark they could almost be black. But even in the dimly lit office, I could still see a very slight russet, enough to stop those orbs being completely obsidian. Like his facial features. And he was even more handsome when he was pissed off, even with his long hair tied back into a man-bun and the thick leather jacket he wore.
“Look, lady….”
“Heidi. You may call me Heidi if you wish.”
“May I?” His tone was clipped. “I like lady better.”
“Well, I don’t, thank you. It’s Heidi or Ms Fischer. Or it’s out of my office.”
“Dave’s office.”
“It was Dave’s office. Now it’s mine.” I stopped a moment, taking a breath and reigning in my temper, another great quality I’d got from my father.
The man in front of me exhaled pointedly, dropping his bent leg to the floor and leaning forward onto the desk. It was another tactic of intimidation. One that wouldn’t faze me.
“Look, Heidi.” His voice had softened a touch. “Indie, that’s Indominous Carter for your records and information security shit.” He raised an eyebrow, pleased with his own achievement of dropping in a buzzword. “He’s busy looking after his injured girlfriend at the same time as trying to mourn his dead dad and keep control of his extremely emotional brother, half-brother,” he corrected himself, and then looked momentarily confused before the mask of intimidation slipped back into place. “Indie asked if I could come down here and sort whatever the problem is out.”
“There is no problem. The account has been under billed and there are some aspects of the funeral we cannot provide. I’ve re-worked the invoice and posted it out to Mr Carter. He should have it tomorrow. When he gets it, be sure to ask him to ring me.”
“For fuck’s sake,” the man muttered, agitation growing. I could see it in his eyes. A dark storm swarming. “Lady….”
“Heidi…”
“Lady. I don’t give a shit what your name is. What I give a shit about is that our president gets the send-off he deserves. As agreed with Dave. Not our fault that the invoicing got all mixed up. You need to honour what was originally billed.”
I opened my mouth to come back at him.
“Shhsssh,” he said, leaning over the desk, a finger suddenly pressing against my lips like I was a little girl he was calming down. I sprang to my feet. Anger filling my veins.
“You touch me like that again, and it’ll be more than a finger I break. Now you can either sit back in that chair like a good boy or get the hell out of my office.”
My reaction was over-the-top. Unprofessional. I was tired. Stressed. They were easy excuses. But if I was being honest, it was something about the man dressed in leather that rattled me. The man with the dimples just showing through his short, cropped beard. And now he lowered himself back down into the seat opposite, grinning inanely, as if I merely amused him.
Slowly I inhaled, not wanting to bring his attention to the fact I needed to compose myself. Not wanting to show any sign of weakness.
“I don’t know what your agreement has been with Dave. Or how this account has been managed in the past. But my role here means that things have changed. There will be no mates’ rates.”
“Look, Heidi,” he chose his words carefully this time. “We have been using your father’s business for years. All our dead have been through these doors. All our dead have been stuffed into your big freezers out the back there. This isn’t just about mate’s rates and handouts. This is about loyalty.”
He paused, his dark eyes watching my every tiny twitch of facial expressions, no matter how carefully I was trying to conceal them. I had a good poker face. Always had. But this man seemed to find those tiny cracks and wedged himself right into them. I opened my mouth to disagree.
“Our club has been loyal to your family business in both some of yours and our darkest days.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d better go ask your brother, Tommy. We’re not in the business of divulging sensitive information, either.”
I was distracted. The insinuation in this man’s words knocking me sideways. He could have been lying, of course, trying to displace me. But whatever his intentions were, they were working. I needed to get a grip.
“Well, Mr Fury. Whatever has gone before is now changing. Out with the old and in with the new, the saying goes. And that can extend anywhere from the staff,” I glanced at the closed door where I knew old Dave was straining his ears through the crap synthetic wood, “all the way to the customers.”
I wouldn’t be intimidated. By his size, the gruffness of his exterior or whatever veiled threat this was.
“Look…” he continued.
I held my finger in the air, mimicking his gesture of earlier, almost. I wasn’t intending on getting any closer to him.
“I will send you a new invoice. You may pay it or you may not. Your actions will let me know whether we proceed with the funeral arrangements of Mr Carter. There will also be an additional charge from the local police force for the arrangements necessary to cater for such a large funeral.”
“The police? Why the fuck would we pay them anything?”
His voice was a grumble, but the tone had changed now. Less friendly. More formidable. And it drove a shiver up my spine. Just the hint of trepidation creeping through me.
“The anticipated size of the event requires a police presence. It’s just the law.”
“Bull shit. We’re not having those nosy fuckers hanging around.”
The man was angry now. Any composure he’d had earlier was dwindling fast. And I should be worried. Fearful. But I was interested. His eyes looked like they had darkened a shade, even though they were the darkest brown I’d ever seen. His eyebrows almost met in the middle, thick and dark and making the little patch of skin between them furrow deeply. A strand of hair had broken free from where most of it was pulled back, snaking down the side of his face, dark and rich and wavy. His dimples had disappeared, and the slightly amused expression he’d worn all the way through the conversation had gone with them. But in that moment of fire and petulance, he was the most beautiful man I had ever set eyes on. And I needed him out of this office, promptly.
“Nothing I can do about it, Mr Fury.”
“Just Fury.” his tone was tight.
“Nothing I can do about it.” I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of him hearing me say his rider’s name the way he wanted me to. “It is the law. Any other business you deal with will tell you exactly the same. Given the expected numbers, particularly those accompanying the funeral procession, it requires some closure of roads and policing. That’s just how it works.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I can’t see the police changing their minds.”
He’d pushed up onto his feet, towering above me, even from the other side of the desk. His presence dark and dangerous, my heart racing in my chest, knowing I was poking a grizzly bear with a very pointy stick.
“Oh, lady.” There it was again, his defiance, a game of tit for tat, that it looked like none of us would win. “You have no idea who the Kings are. If you want your father’s business here in the north east to survive, I’d suggest you’d get finding out about us.”
We stared at each other for a while, our eyes locked, neither blinking, neither moving. But my cheeks had prickled with heat, and I was in danger of letting him see me blush. And that meant I’d lost this control dead in the water.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” I said eventually, breaking our connection. “Now I need to get on.”
I’d just dismissed him. And he knew it, too. He turned his back on me, moving through my office in a few long, pissed off strides, the dark denim jeans clinging to thick thighs and a round taut arse. Which walked right out of the door and out of my line of sight.
Fuck, I needed wine.