Chapter Eleven
Silly
“I feel like putting my finger on a list might be easier.” Silly rolled her eyes at her friend Penny, who was also Twisted’s old lady and baby momma. “It’s stupid. I have an IUD I need removed. But then there’s the maybe-more part. How in the world did you pick an OB-GYN?”
“I took someone’s advice.” The pointed response made Silly giggle.
“But I want to know I’m going to like the person putting their whole face in my hooha.”
“You’ll like Doc Richards. She’s the best, promise. I can even go with you to the initial appointment.”
Silly looked up, surprised, and yet not surprised because Penny was one of the most giving women she’d ever met. “I’d like that, honestly.”
“Then I’d honestly like to go with you.” She pushed Silly’s phone her direction. “Go ahead, make the appointment.”
“Okay.” Silly stared at her, tears trembling on her lashes. “I’m doing this.”
“You and Jock are for sure doing it.”
Both women whirled around to see Twisted had come into the house. “I got tired of being relegated to the garage.” He pointed at the phone. “Make the fuckin’ call, Silly. Your old man is beyond excited about that thing he’s not allowed to tell me.” He grinned, “Make the fuckin’ call.”
***
Jock
He loaded the dogs into the truck and headed into the garage. Silly had taken her small coupe to the shop earlier, leaving the dogs pouting that they didn’t get to go with.
“You guys don’t know how lucky you are.” He looked at them in the mirror. “Spoiled for choice, as my nan used to say.”
He drove for another few minutes before he looked at them again.
“What would you guys think of a baby running around the house? Tank, we already know you’re the best babysitter.
Gunny’s kiddos are proof of that. Maynard, how will you be around kids?
I need to take you guys to the clubhouse one of these nights, get you acclimated to all the people who’ll love the kid. ”
Pulling into the garage’s parking lot, he looked at the dogs again.
“What if we get a dog to foster too? Is that too much change? We can get the dog before the baby would come, and maybe everyone will just get along?” He laughed.
“Yeah, right, Jock. Make plans. Kids and dogs will show you the error of your ways.”
“Jock, you gonna keep talking to yourself, or will you finish my bike any time soon?” Twisted was standing just outside the door to the garage. “Been working on it three weeks too long.”
“Yah, boss. It’s done, I just forgot to tell you.” Jock grinned as he opened the back door to unclip Tank. “Like, two weeks ago.” He went around the front of the truck and released Maynard, too. “Oops.”
“You ugly motherfucker.”
Jock laughed as he went into the garage.
***
The warehouse loomed dark on the edge of town, its rusted walls not doing anything to muffle the snarls and whimpers echoing from within.
Jock crouched in the shadows with Twisted, Wildman, Ace, and a handful of trusted brothers from IMC and the Caddo Hobos.
One of Pony’s contacts had led them here to the homebase of an SSMC-run dogfighting ring, the kind that had nearly killed Maynard.
They were riding heavy, as always, but there would be no guns tonight. This was about rescue, not a shootout. They’d called in an anonymous tip to the cops, but they weren’t waiting.
“Remember,” Twisted whispered, his voice sharp as a blade, “grab the dogs, smash the setup, get out. No heroes.”
Jock nodded, adrenaline sharp in his veins. Silly was safe at home with Penny and the dogs, but the thought of her and their dogs and most especially the potential of an unborn child fueled him. Stay sharp, stay steady.
They moved like ghosts, cutting through the chain-link fence and slipping inside one by one.
The air reeked of blood and fear, cages lining the walls, dogs huddled or pacing, eyes wild. In the center, a makeshift ring stained dark. Two SSMC goons lounged by a table, counting cash, oblivious.
Wildman signaled, and they struck. Ace took down one guard with a swift chokehold while Jock tackled the other, his fist connecting with a satisfying crack.
“For the dogs,” he growled, zip-tying the guy’s hands to an iron railing.
The others fanned out, popping cage locks.
Dogs poured out, all kinds. Thin pit bulls, mixes, some of them carrying scars like Maynard, others pups too young for this hell.
It looked like every one was a bait dog.
On one hand that makes this job easier, since they’re unlikely to start a fight. On the other hand, we’ll need to look for wherever they’re keeping the fighting dogs. He shook his head. Problem for another day.
Jock knelt by a trembling shepherd mix, murmuring, “Easy, boy. You’re safe.
” The dog nosed his hand, tentative, and Jock’s chest ached.
They loaded the dogs into vans other brothers had driven up and were waiting outside.
It was amazing to see, the animals whining and flinching but following, sensing freedom.
Sirens wailed in the distance as they torched the ring’s gear.
That would set the ring back thousands of dollars.
The records went to Pony, who loaded them into the back of a truck before swinging up into the seat and rolling off.
He would run his magic on the files, providing a rundown of the business side of the ring.
They’d find ways to make the bastards pay.
Back in the vans, engines rumbling away, Twisted clapped Jock’s shoulder. “Good work. Those pups get a second chance.”
At the drop-off at a trusted shelter ally, Jock watched the dogs being unloaded, a lineup of vets organized by Kent waiting to do evaluation and treatment.
One pup, a scrappy terrier, licked Jock’s hand.
“Yeah,” he muttered, thinking of home, “we all do.” The night ended with a quiet ride back, the road ahead a little less shadowed.
***
Silly
The door dinged, and Silly looked up to find her next appointment striding into the shop. “Mr. Bell, I assume. And look, you’re very prompt.”
“Is that a problem?” Twisted drawled as he made his way to the counter.
“No, sir, I simply didn’t know who I was putting ink on.
George Bell is a good moniker. Why haven’t I heard it before now?
” Silly lifted the pass-through out of the way and gestured him through.
“Come on back. You know where my chair is.” This wasn’t the first time she’d been asked to tattoo the President of IMC, and more importantly.
..Jock’s MC, but those appointments had been made face-to-face so she had an idea of what she was doing. She was going into this one blind.
“Do you know what you want?” Silly tapped the chair as she pulled her stool over. She grabbed her sketchbook from the table that held all her ink bottles. It was a workspace for sketching as well as staging her tools and ink for tattooing.
“Yeah, I want my old lady’s name tattooed on the inside of my arm. Close to my heart, and all that jazz.”
“Oh, cool. What kind of font did you want to use?”
“Something classy, like Penny.”
“Classy? What does that mean to you?” She shook her head and pulled out her phone. “Let me show you some examples of the different fonts.”
“Classy. I don’t know. Just classy.”
A loud growl filled the space, and Silly was on her feet in an instant. Out in the hallway Maynard was nose to the floor in front of the door leading outside, growling like a fiend. Tank joined him, and the rumble immediately grew louder.
“What’s going on with them?” Twisted had followed her into the hallway. He’d pulled a gun, had it angled down beside his leg. “Did anyone know I was coming in today?”
“What? No, I didn’t even know you were coming in today.
” She undid the bolt on the door and pushed it open a couple of inches.
“There’s nothing—” The door slammed in her face, and she rocked backwards, nearly falling.
If it hadn’t been for Twisted grabbing her arm, she would have landed on her ass on the floor. “What the fuck?”
“Let me go out front. I’ll check the alley that way.” Twisted pointed at the side door. “Lock that deadbolt again, Silly. Don’t open it for anything.”
He took off at a jog to the front of the building, and Maynard and Tank tore out after him.
“Don’t let the dogs out,” Silly called, setting off in a run to the waiting room to find Twisted already outside, both dogs worrying at the door that had been closed in their faces.
“Thanks,” she told the empty room. In fact, except for the dogs, she was alone in the shop, not something that would usually happen, and not something that would usually bother her, but it did right now.
She stopped between the dogs and grabbed their collars.
“Come, boys.” She put them in the big kennel she’d placed in the large breakroom at the back of the shop and latched the door, locking them in the kennel and then in the room.
“Warranted. Maynard is a sneak.” He was, because he’d escaped from his kennel at home several times, and the last two times, he’d opened Tank’s kennel too.
Phone to his ear, Twisted came back through the front door and turned to lock it.
“Pony, tell me what kind of security we’ve got on the tattoo shop.
” He stopped walking, angling his head down and rubbing his forehead with the back of his gun hand.
“Pony.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders.
“Pony. Stop. No, man. Stop fuckin’ talkin’.
You had to take all the security out for the TV show.
I get that, but brother, that show ended months ago. ”
Silly stepped forwards. “I have two cameras, one at the front here and one on the back door. Nothing for the side door, though. And nothing outside.”
“You get that, brother?” Twisted paused and nodded. “Can you send him your—fucking hell, you tell her.” He put the call on speaker.
“Hey, Silly. Who’s your internet through?”
She told him and then went through the brands and models associated with her cameras and hub.
“So the good thing is, you’ve got a decent start. But we’re going to want more. There’s no coverage for some critical spaces and places. I’ll be there in about four hours to start the install.”
Silly sighed. “I suppose I should call Jock and tell him.”
Twisted shook his head. “I already called.”
Of course you did. She didn’t generally mind the club mechanics.
In fact, she largely loved how the structure helped Jock cope with his PTSD.
But sometimes they could be pushy to the extreme.
“And I haven’t gotten a call, so that means he jumped on his bike and is roaring over this way.
All without knowing that it’s all fine.”
Twisted pointed to the side door. “I was right there when the dogs alerted to something outside that door, and that same something slammed the door before you could get a glimpse of whoever it was. Those dogs alerted hard too. That was danger, just a door away. Fuck yeah, I called your ole man.”
“What kind of door do you have side and back, Silly?”
That she could answer, “Steel doors, both of them. Heavy bastards. The front is a typical store door. Glass.”
“Shatter monitoring. Got it. How long will Twisted’s tattoo take you to do?”
“I don’t know if he even wants it now.”
“Oh, Twisted still wants his fuckin’ tattoo. We’re about to look at fonts again.”
“You want Great Vibes, bossman.”
“Good font for a name, actually.” Silly laughed, the tension in the room easing off. “Good choice, Pony. It’ll take about two hours, maybe three.”
“Okay, lock that front door and check the other two entry points.”
“Front is locked. I threw the lock when I came back inside.” Twisted thumbed over his shoulder.
Silly nodded. “I know the other doors are locked, but I’ll check anyway.”
“Later, brother.” Twisted tapped the phone and slid it into a pocket, then tucked his gun back into a holster at the small of his back. “You got personal protection? The best security system is a big fuckin’ gun, in my opinion. Show me your hands.”
“What?”
“Hold out your hands, lady.”
She did, flipping them from back to front a couple of times. “What are you looking for?”
“Not a single tremor in even your little finger. That’s pretty impressive, lady.”
“You know who my family is.” That was a statement, not a question. “I learned how to hide my fear at an early age.”
“Unintentional benefit,” he hummed. “Nerves of steel earned in a childhood gauntlet. My apologies for ever thinking you were anything but brave.”
“It might surprise you, but I don’t—”
Hammering on the front door cut her off, and she watched as Twisted unwound everything he’d put away. By the time he’d turned to the front of the shop, he had his gun in one hand again, phone in the other. It was so fast, the metamorphosis seamless from man standing to biker guarding.
She peeked around him and saw Jock at the front door, fumbling with his phone.
Twisted got to the door and unlocked it before stepping to the side just in time to avoid being bowled over as Jock made his way to her.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt the tremble in his frame.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.” She gave him a squeeze. “And I’m okay, Jock. Promise. Nothing happened in the shop. Anything bad was outside. And Twisted was here to make sure I’m safe. We’re okay.”
Over the next few minutes, she reassured him with voice and touch that she was there and they were both going to be fine.
He finally lifted his head, pressing his forehead against hers.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a beat, then he kissed her, pulling her onto tiptoes to press his mouth against hers.
It was hot, and sweet, and exactly what she needed right now.
Nerves she didn’t know she had settled, and she let her heels fall to the ground, grinning up at her man. “Love you, Jake.”
As it did every time she used that tone to give him those words, a sweet peace swept across his features. “Love you, too, baby.”
Twisted walked past them on his way to the back of the shop. “Don’t mind me, I’m just here waiting on my fuckin’ tattoo.”
Silly rolled her eyes at his nonsense, and Jock grinned.