23. Wombat
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wombat
Logistics weren’t my strongest skill, but when it came to talking Honoria out of her car keys so I could slip behind the wheel of her mineral gray BMW, I was a savant.
“I really should be driving.” She eyed me nervously as I acclimated to the controls and mirror placement.
“You can drive us home.”
“But you’re not on my insurance.”
“I’ll baby it.”
Maybe that wasn’t the best word to use, considering what was hanging between us, but I wasn’t going to walk it back. She’d have to get used to hearing it sooner or later.
Hopefully.
With that, and more bravado than brains, I piloted one of the smoothest rides I’d ever experienced. It was an ego boost to pull up to the prospect manning the gate, roll down the power window and say. “Yo. Open the gate.”
“Nice ride, did you steal it?”
Honor cleared her throat from the passenger side.
I stuck a thumb in her direction. “Didn’t have to. I already stole the girl.”
Speck leaned in the window to give her the once-over. “Hey, Pretty Mama.”
She shot me a look that was half glare and half disbelief.
I grinned back because he’d just complimented her. But I could feel he was about to say something that would piss her off. “Stop gaping at my woman. Open the gate.”
“Yours? Hardly.”
“No one asked you for your opinion, ’speck.”
He had enough brains to step back and unlock the chain to let us in. We really needed a stronger deterrent than that. But Walt believed that the simpler the blockade, the more it blended in.
Honor scanned the trees as I drove up the sloping path. “Where are we?”
“In primo wine and hunting territory. There are two vineyards about a mile away, and good hunting land all over this ridge.”
“How does the club afford this?”
The truth wouldn’t be a good idea, considering the company.
“Rich wives.” At least that was close to true.
Walt’s ol’ lady, a former stripper, saved as much as she could during her time on the pole.
She’d bought a decent townhouse that went up for sale when she moved in with Walt.
That money went toward the down payment on the property here.
She handed it over to Walt as a Christmas present a few years ago.
The club paid for all the maintenance, upgrades, and the mortgage.
By keeping it in her name, we avoided a bunch of questions like Honor’s from bubbling up to the feds.
When the threshing barn came into view, Honor gasped. “That’s a barn.”
“You’re observant.” I smiled at the joke.
The stone walls rose about forty feet from ground to roofline.
From there it was at least another eighteen to twenty feet before the gambrels peaked above the treetops.
We’d packed in three stories of living into the monster.
“Mary bought it at auction from some developers who wanted to convert it into a wedding venue. We did the rest of the upgrades.” I pointed out the dirt bike track as I found a place for her car where it would be watched and not dinged.
Then I got out, put on my vest and walked around the car to intercept Honor before she opened her door.
The speck watching the lot craned his head to see who was parking in the reserved section.
“What the fuck, Wombat? Where’d you boost that car from?”
“Why do they always assume you stole it?” Honor asked before I could answer.
“Because I can’t afford it.” I turned to the dickhead with the big mouth, “Mind your business. It’s hers.”
He whistled. “Damn Wombat. She’s better looking than that crazy bitch with the Kia.”
Why did he have to mention Winter? “And you’d be better looking with two black eyes if you can’t keep them off my woman’s tits.”
His gaze didn’t move away. “Ain’t no way she’s your woman.”
What did a man have to do to get some respect around here? I pointed at him. “I’ll tell Walt you disrespected a member. That’ll be another three months tacked on.”
“I’m sorry.” He straightened up and finally averted his eyes.
Keeping my mouth shut wasn’t why they’d recruited me. Knowing when to use it was. Ignoring his bullshit would make him sweat more. So I did just that as I led Honor inside. “Welcome to the Destroyers’ Clubhouse.”
I’d timed it perfectly. The wall of sound hit us first. The jukebox blasted over the laughter and shouts. Then there was the visual slam.
As soon as you crossed the threshold, the ceiling opened all the way up.
If the lighting was up, you could see the ten by twelve inch oak rafters.
If it was a night like tonight, the ceiling was one great big square maw that made you search for something, anything to put an end to all that darkness.
The middle of the building was sliced neatly in half by a fieldstone wall that climbed upward. It acted as both a defense and an optical illusion, making the space look larger than it was.
One of the prospects called it a mindfuck. You see the barn, think of all that open space, then get inside, become overwhelmed by the upward volume, and forget all about the other half you couldn’t see.
And that’s just the way Walt liked it. The only clue that there was more behind that wall was the hallway to the kitchen, offices, and the bathrooms. We couldn’t do much about that space, except cut it short by placing a closed door right before it led to Walt’s office and the meeting room.
The abruptness of the hallway’s end was just another way we hid the most sensitive parts in plain sight.
Walt picked me out from the sea of bodies and waded through the crush to meet us about halfway to the bar.
“Wombat.” He slapped hands with me, then he swept a long look up and down my woman.
I almost blurted out, “eyes front,” but remembered this was my club president and I’d catch hell for the disrespect.
Instead, I played nice. “I think you’ve met Honoria before?”
“Damn woman, you ain’t playin’ are you?”
She straightened. “Playing at what exactly?”
He shot me an upraised brow. “As you put it, ‘seeing’ this one.” He hesitated and did something I absolutely hated. He licked his lips, stuck a hand out and said, “When you’re here, you call me Disney. None of that Mr. Tipton bullshit you did back in the office.”
In small words, he’d warned me to keep her on a leash for the night. Only patched members and their ol’ ladies got to call him Walt. Heck, even the president of the nearest Destroyers chapter never got to call him that to his face, and they’d known each other for over twenty years.
“Disney. How cute.”
I checked his eyes for the glitter of hatred that was sure to be there if someone showed disrespect like that.
Strangely, he stared at me. And that hatred?
It wasn’t there. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was curious.
“With your permission, I’d like to introduce her to…
everyone.” That almost came out as a question.
I sucked in air because if I didn’t I’d hyperventilate.
This was dangerous ground. It would only be worse if the woman on my arm were a cop, a narc, or an enemy. Honor wasn’t any of those. She should be welcome here.
He hesitated just enough to tell me he wasn’t happy. “Steer clear of Killer. Maybe Rachel.”
Right. The two women with the most to lose if Honor figured out their history. “Understood.”
Then he asked something crude, but one-hundred percent Walt. “Honoria, that’s a mouthful. You got a nickname sweet-tits?”
It was a damn good thing I’d warned her in advance. She took the insult in stride. “Honor works.”
This time, he didn’t even try to hide the scowl he sent me. “Honor, huh? You’re wasted on this one.”
“Low blow.” I didn’t say it loudly, just loud enough to let him know I wasn’t happy.
He smirked at me. “Honor, let me introduce you to the woman I’m wasted on. Cherry!?”
His wife. This was getting interesting.
Mary, aka Cherry, was almost as pretty as Honor, but instead of tall and lean, she was poshly curvy and obscenely stacked. Those tits made her a mint back in the day. Now she worked at a family law practice, putting her smarts to work in her retirement.
Strippers like Mary retired early because they could. She wasn’t just a pretty face or a big set of bosoms. If I had to guess which of the couple was more cunning, I’d say she was.
Mary took one look at Honor and held out a perfectly manicured hand, “So nice to see you outside of the courtroom.”
A couple of hangers overheard her and moved their conversations farther away.
“I don’t remember seeing you in court. But I know you.”
“Well, criminal law and family law rarely cross paths.” Mary let go of the handshake and shot her a thousand-watt smile.
I studied Walt’s reaction.
He stayed mute, but vigilant. His eyes were on his wife, soaking in information by watching her. Or maybe he was just that gone for her. It wasn’t unusual for him to watch her like a hawk.
“That said, Hagerstown is pretty small. Good to see you. You’re studying to be a paralegal, right?” Honor asked.
Walt clapped his hands together. “This is great. My wife’s finally got someone other than me to bore with her schoolwork. It goes right over my head. Go for it, talk shop. Bat?” He cocked an ear toward the bar.
Before I followed him, I took the liberty to brush my lips near Honor’s ear. “I’ll be right over there.”
I joined Walt, who already had two shots lined up on the bar for us. He waited until I picked up the shot before talking. “Why the fuck did you bring her here?”
As my sister recently said, “Grab your balls and man up.”
“If all goes well, she’ll be here a lot more often.”
“The fuck she will.” He slammed the shot and motioned for another.
I drank mine because he’d make that insult an issue as well. The whiskey went down hard. “I’ll agree to only public events and the family gatherings, no rides, no member-only times.”
He shot me the loudest question I’d never heard.
“It’s like that.”
“I swear to god, you are one—”
“Say it. Call me an idiot. Tell me I’m a fool. It’s not like I haven’t heard it before.”
His expression fell. “You got your heart bit hard, didn’t you?”
I let my slight nod speak for itself.
He frowned. “She’s using you.”
“Maybe we’re using each other, but it’s a thing.
I’m not going to hide her.” Speaking of hiding, Nickel walked past with his arm around Rachel.
They ignored us and met up with Sierra and Kid at the tables.
Insulated behind them was another couple.
Both had their backs to the wall, like they preferred.
Killer, the woman, had anxiety issues. Her husband, Ice, well… he had issues.
“Hiding ain’t the same as using your brain instead of your dick.”
“Listen, if you’ve got a problem with—”
I didn’t have a chance to finish because Boots walked into the middle of our conversation. “Who’s the babe with Mary?”
“Her name’s Honor. She’s the club’s lawyer and—”
Walt finished with about as succinct description possible. “And Wombat’s fucking her.”
I shot Walt a frown, hoping he’d get the hint and keep his voice down.
“No shit? Man, a banging chick with brains and brown hair? She’s perfect for you, ’Bat.”
“I’m glad someone thinks so.” The second shot was waiting alongside a bottle of beer. I’d need both to get through this.
Boots slapped my shoulder. “Hell, remember when we were on that long haul out to Fresno? You described your perfect woman to me, and it was her. Swear on my wife’s tits. What was that, four years ago?”
Walt broke in, “You’ve been doing this bullshit for four years?”
“No. You talked to the firm. It’s been two months.”
Boots turned his back to the bar and leaned so he could get a long look at the women, who now had their heads together so they could carry on a conversation.
“No doubt about it, that’s his dream chick.
Speaking of dream chicks, there she is.” He grinned widely, then peeled off and stalked his wife down.
She was such a small woman, she was barely visible in the crowd.
If it weren’t for the streaks of bright pink in her hair tonight, she’d sink into the throng and disappear.
“Is that all true?” Walt nodded at Boots’ retreating back.
“Yeah. Brains, looks…”
“Age.”
That deserved a beatdown. I silently let him know he was in dangerous territory.
“It ain’t no secret you go for women twice as old as you.”
“I’m not twelve.”
He snorted into his beer. “Yeah, well, she ain’t twenty-four either.”
“Can’t you just be happy for me?”
He fired back, “Not until we run a background check.”
“What’s there to find? She’s a lawyer. Our criminal defense lawyer. I bet Nickel’s got a folder on her already.”
Walt frowned but nodded. “Lawyers have rules, you know that, right?”
I did. I’d been bouncing through the legal dictionary Honor dropped off at the house before Jim had his meltdown and outed us.
The book was at least three inches thick.
It weighed a fuck-ton being a foil-embossed, real leather-bound, hardcover.
The only book I’d ever seen that was bigger was the family Bible Pop-pop had.
“And those rules can sink us.”
Smoothing his feathers might work, then again, it might not. “That’s why it’s only going to be these type of events. You know no one talks here. They know better.”
He stared at me for an uncomfortably long time. “And when she wants more?”
As much as I’d like to hope there would be a day like that, I carried a mountain of doubt that day would ever happen. Hell, the odds were probably worse on that than her carrying to term.
If she were even pregnant, that is.
The beer stuck in my throat and made me hoarse. “A man can dream, right?”
His jaw went sideways as he mulled my words over. Eventually, he raised the shot glass. “To dreams. They don’t always come true, but it’s kind of nice to have ’em once in a while.”
I tapped my glass to his and swallowed. The pain cut through me. It wasn’t because of the whiskey. It was the fear of what if that shredded my guts. What if we almost got there and had it ripped away?
Walt slapped my back. “I have to hand it to you, Wombat, your balls are bigger than your dick.”