Electra Chapter 3
I had no clue why I was nervous. There was nothing behind that door up ahead that scared me.
I was more than capable of doing the job I was hired to do.
I could do it effortlessly. And the premise of Wrath’s Recovery was a great one.
As long as they did what they advertised they did for people, I would support it.
If there were any shenanigans or underhanded activities involved, then I’d have to adjust my game plan. I’d be on the lookout for that.
So, if I were one hundred percent confident in my abilities, why would I be nervous?
The reason, which I would only admit to myself and not aloud, was the man I first ran into on the street and then inside two days ago.
I arrived early and made a side trip to get some coffee before my interview.
I had parked and was heading out of the lot and down the street when a man caught my attention and held it.
First, it was startling to see a guy lifting a wheelchair to the ground.
Second, he was doing it on a motorcycle.
I paused to watch. He did it without any struggle.
His arm muscles bulged as he effortlessly lifted, twisted, and set it down on the ground, where he opened it.
Those arms were the third thing to catch my attention.
Oh my God, they were incredible, even half hidden by the short sleeves of his shirt.
The shirt appeared to strain to contain them.
Next was the dog in the sidecar. I didn’t know they even made those anymore, but he had one, and the biggest dog I’d ever laid eyes on was patiently sitting in it.
His cute aviator goggles made him appear approachable.
I held in my giggle. I swore the dog, with its tongue out, was grinning at me. He was watching me intently.
I wondered, as the man positioned himself to dismount the bike and take his seat, if it would be helpful to release his dog.
The dog wore a vest that announced it was a service animal, but it wasn’t an ordinary vest. It was a leather vest with the words Dozer, Property of Horsemen of Wrath MC on it.
I rushed over to offer my help, and as I did, the last thing hit me.
The man wore a leather vest, a cut, as bikers called it.
He was a member of the Horsemen of Wrath MC.
Duh, Dozer’s vest matched his master’s. Noting this, I thought, Well, this might make a good impression to get the job.
However, I soon discovered that Swerve, as he informed me, didn’t trust people or accept help easily. His warning about his dog, Dozer, made me want to touch the dog even more. Swerve’s standoffish vibe intrigued me. Would he grumble contentedly if I did?
I thought I held my own in our conversation before we parted ways.
And later, when I arrived for the interview, I wasn’t worried.
I’d spoken to Diablo on the phone. He was the club’s president, and I was meeting with him.
Swerve might be in the building, but we would probably not even see each other.
But I was wrong. After the young woman at the desk got Diablo for me, she offered me a drink, which I refused. He then took me to an office so we could chat. It was my luck that it turned out to be Swerve’s office, and he was in it.
I never knew what had made him so prickly during the interview, but he hadn’t turned me off, which, in the past, any man acting like that would have.
I must have answered the questions, mainly asked by Diablo, to their satisfaction because later I got a call and an offer to work for them. I snapped it up.
Now, I had to be sure not to let my secret fascination and attraction to Swerve ruin it.
I wasn’t here trolling for a man or a romp.
No matter how amazing it might be. And with Swerve in that wheelchair, it was likely that it was physically impossible anyway.
What a loss to the world. His limitation, which I wondered what the cause was, didn’t detract from his magnetism in my book.
His body and looks drew me to him. Another first for me.
I knew that would be dangerous, and I had to keep my guard up.
However, it didn’t stop me from fantasizing about him the past two nights, or from having him pop into my head in the middle of whatever I was doing.
It wasn’t possible to know how tall he was, but I estimated him to be at least six feet.
His skin was a warm, tawny brown with a copper undertone.
It, along with the rest of his features, proclaimed that he was Hispanic or, at the very least, that the majority of his heritage was.
His hair was long, braided, and secured at the back of his neck.
Each braid was tight to his scalp and ran from the front top of his head to the back.
I wondered more than once what it would look like flowing free.
His face had nearly no scruff, and his dark brown eyes were soulful.
His upper body bulged with muscles. His lower legs were covered in jeans, so I couldn’t tell how toned they were, but they weren’t at the level of his upper body, and that made sense.
Due to his short sleeves, I noticed the tattoos on his arms. That, too, made me fantasize about where else he had them and what they were.
Swerve was one gorgeously put-together man.
He made my heart pound and other parts of my body heat up and perk up.
I’d tried to tell myself not to allow him to be a distraction.
Swerve wasn’t why I was here. I clung to the thought that once I was up and running, which I didn’t believe would take long, he would be around less.
Diablo explained that Swerve had another job—one that was full-time.
He managed this one with help from the club, but they needed more hands.
Another thing I was informed was that it wasn’t their standard operating procedure to hire regular citizens to manage one of their businesses. I was to be their experiment.
So much was riding on my making this job a success.
I couldn’t afford to let it fail. If I did, everything would crumble and fall apart.
There was no time to go back and redo things.
I knew the path my life had to take. There was only one, and working at Wrath’s Recovery was the way.
I refused to allow anything or anyone to distract me from my goal.
Diablo, when I accepted the position, told me that there was no need to dress fancy.
As long as the clothing wasn’t overly revealing, was clean, unwrinkled, and free of holes or stains, they were okay with what made me the most comfortable.
I dressed between casual and somewhat business casual.
I had on a pair of dark-wash jeans. I paired them with a pair of black ankle boots that I loved.
My top was short-sleeved since I was more often than not hot.
It was a black-and-white print pattern with a small floral design on a section of it.
I had a small amount of makeup on. My hair was in a bun again, and of course, for me, no outfit was complete without earrings.
I stuck to hoops on the smaller side, though to be truthful, I loved them in all sizes, and various studs decorated my other holes.
I had a thing for piercings. I refrained from piercing my eyebrows, lips, or nose, but my ears and the areas under my clothing were fair game in my book.
Thankfully, I didn’t need to worry that my employers would frown on tattoos, so mine were peeking out on my upper biceps. The rest were covered.
I would start with paperwork and progress from there.
Diablo said I would be meeting with Jauhnna for part of the day.
I wondered what her job was. Checking my reflection in the window’s glass, I gave myself a nod, then opened the door and breezed inside like I had no worries in the world.
Annette was behind the counter. She gave me a smile of recognition.
“Hello, I heard that you would be back. Welcome. We met last time. I’m Annette.” She stood and came to me as she chattered. I smiled back and held out my hand. She shook it as I answered her.
“Good morning, Annette. I remember you. I’m Electra, of course. It’s a pleasure to be here. I was told to be here by nine and to ask for Jauhnna. I’m early, so I hope I have time to pop into the breakroom and put these in there for everyone and, if possible, grab coffee before I get started.”
“Ooh, you brought us something. Follow me. And yes, you have time to get a cup of coffee. Jauhnna is here, but she’s behind closed doors with Diablo. That might take a bit for them to surface.” She giggled.
Great. Office affairs were not frowned upon around here. Oh well, that wasn’t my problem. Let people do whatever they want. Having office affairs or romance rarely ever worked out. Heartache, resentment, and more were the typical results. I let Annette show me the way.
Their break area wasn’t huge, but it was clean, had all the essentials, and most importantly, a coffee maker.
I placed the box I brought on the counter nearby and then checked out what I had to work with.
It was one of those single-cup ones, so you used pods.
Good, then I could bring my own and not use whatever cheap brand they had.
“The cups are in there, the silverware is there, the creamer and the pods are in that cabinet. May I take a peek?” she asked, pointing to the box.
“Go for it. Take whatever you want. I believe I brought plenty. Diablo said on a full day, there might be six or so in here. Others come and go only as needed.”
Opening the cabinet to retrieve the cup and then the pod, I was surprised to find that the coffee was of excellent quality. My eyebrows rose, and she saw it. Annette chuckled.
“The Horsemen don’t tolerate pussified or brown water trying to pass itself off as coffee. We drink real manly coffee,” she said in a deep voice.