Chapter 9 Bronx
NINE
brONX
I was cemented in my tracks. As we stood by her car, all I could do was level my eyes at her.
Holy fucking shit. This girl was the daughter of a crew president.
What kind of game was she playing? Shit, she looked so damn innocent compared to the other women I knew that had grown up in this lifestyle.
She wasn’t smacking gum between her lips or wearing clothes that were too tight for her.
For fuck’s sake, she had her hair pulled back with a damn bow!
She walked with a grace not taught to women in the lifestyle.
She didn’t have anything black on her person.
Nor did she have any leather to speak of making her stand out from a crowd.
Was this somehow a setup?
“My father’s the president of the Celtic Riders MC. Down in Yuma,” Freya said.
Had I not been fucking rooted in shock, I would have teetered on my feet.
Holy hell, she wasn’t just the daughter of any president.
She was the daughter of the president. The Celtic Riders were the holy grail of motorcycle crews.
Getting into their club was a rigorous process, and the history alone left men who did get into the crew with connections that helped them and their families prosper for the rest of their lives.
If her father really was the president of that club, he was a man not to be trifled with. Not to be pissed off.
Which meant I had to give her what she wanted. Otherwise, our entire club would suffer this man’s wrath.
“Bronx, I might look innocent, but I’m not dumb,” Freya said.
“You just don’t look the part,” I said.
She shrugged. “My father did his best to raise me away from it, honestly. But it didn’t take long for me to piece together what was happening. What he did for a living. Especially when he was constantly throwing cookouts in his backyard for all the guys that wore the same leather coat as him.”
I tried to imagine the president of one of the oldest motorcycle clubs in the country having a fucking barbecue in his backyard.
But did she know all about how the Celtic Riders rose to fame in the first place?
“You know, if you say your father’s crew name around here, it could get you into a lot of trouble. More trouble than what you found yourself in tonight,” I said.
Freya shrugged. “I know they used to ride around here for a while. I’m well aware of what my father’s crew used to get into. But my father also cleaned them up. So, tit for tat.”
“You know they dealt drugs, then. To the kids in this area for a while.”
She nodded slowly. “I knew that was their main mode of bringing in money, yes. I also know that when my father was elected president just before I was born, he slowly began cleaning up their act. Transferred all of us down to Yuma. I know they don’t peddle drugs anymore.
Though, I’m not sure how they’re still bringing in money.
I believe the best in my father. So, I choose to believe he and the crew are at least in the gray and not head-deep in the darkness any longer. ”
“So, for all you know, they look clean. But they aren’t clean.”
“I don’t think they’re squeaky clean. No crew is.
I’m sure not even yours is, Bronx. But, in that world, there are always levels of clean and dirty.
I know my father makes sure his crew has buckets of clean that outweigh the dirty they’re probably still in.
The question is, does your crew operate the same way?
Or have I gotten myself into more trouble by trusting you? ” she asked.
I shook my head. “You can always trust me. Me and The Lost Boys pride ourselves on the outreach we have toward the community of San Diego.”
She smiled. “Good.”
That smile. That alone punched me in the gut.
The way it undulated the freckles on her cheeks and illuminated her eyes.
Freya had gone from a woman whose number I’d enjoy having to a woman I’d be a fucking idiot to touch.
Right now, I was standing on solid ground.
If I could keep my head on straight, she’d go back to her father and tell her of some guy named Bronx who rode with The Lost Boys and had saved her ass just off Highway One in San Diego.
If we were lucky enough, her father would place a call and thank us.
Which would put us in the good graces of one of the most powerful crews in the damn nation.
Keep it together, Bronx.
“So, I guess we should exchange numbers if you’re going to help me. Yeah?” Freya asked.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Now look who’s lost in their mind,” she said, giggling.
Shit. That sound. That lighthearted, giddy, effortless sound. It prickled the hairs on the nape of my neck and shot a shiver down my damn spine.
Was there anything about Freya that was ugly as sin?
“I suppose we should since I’m not following you to your hotel,” I said.
“Yep. Just the block it’s on. A girl’s gotta stay safe, you know,” she said, giggling.
Again.
Please stop making that glorious sound, you fallen angel.
She rummaged around in her purse before pulling out some eyeliner and a receipt.
She turned around and leaned against her car, and my eyes couldn’t help but slide over her luscious curves.
Most women in this area were tanned to hell.
Stick thin. Nothing but walking pipe cleaners with eyes wrapped in some damn rawhide.
But Freya? Not her. She had milky skin that reminded me of fresh cream I’d pour into my coffee.
She had excess for days that sat in all the right places with a petite waist that called to my palms. I took a step toward her.
My body fucking gravitated to her. And when she turned around with her number written in eyeliner on the back of a receipt, she gasped.
I gazed down at her, feeling her body heat as her back settled against her car.
“Here,” she said breathlessly.
I plucked it from between her fingertips and looked at it. I memorized the numbers, reciting them in my head. It only took me three shots before I had it committed to memory and slid it into my back pocket.
“Got it memorized,” I said, grinning.
“I know you know something about my sister you aren’t telling me.”
“Well, considering you were holding a very big ace behind your back, I’d say we could be even.”
“Except I told you my ace. Why won’t you tell me yours?” I asked.
“Simply put, because it could get your sister into a lot of trouble.”
Freya furrowed her brow. “So, you do know her?”
I stayed silent as her eyes danced between mine.
“Fine. I get it. We both need to earn each other’s trust. But honestly? I’m not sure how I’m going to do that. I mean, how many times are you going to be tugged into an alleyway at night?” she asked.
I chuckled. Oh, she had a nice sense of humor too. I’d have to keep track of her, though. I’d have to call her. Figure out what she was up to. Possibly keep tabs on her phone and its GPS coordinates in order to keep her out of harm’s way.
Because she had no idea the barrel that was pointed at her back right now.
“Ready to head back to your hotel?” I asked.
She nodded and turned around. And when she did, her ass softly brushed against me.
The swell of her globed cheeks fluttered against the cock inside my jeans, and I groaned softly.
Freya whipped her head around, her eyes growing wide as her cheeks flushed.
We stared at one another for a few silent seconds, and I waited for the slap.
The crack of her hand against my cheek before she got into her car and quickly drove off.
But instead, she smiled softly up at me.
“Trust me, I know the feeling,” she said.
My eyes bulged as she laughed. She got into her car and closed the door, which was the only sound ripping me from my trance. I doubled back to my bike, forcing myself to put some distance between us. And when she cranked up her car, I followed suit.
I cranked the engine of my bike up and followed her out of the parking lot.
We traveled for almost twenty minutes. I mean, she was clear on the other side of San Diego, smack dab in the middle of downtown, where hardly any of us frequented.
I didn’t expect her to know anything about the big city, though.
Especially big oceanside cities. Hell, San Diego had one hundred and forty-seven times the amount of people in it that Yuma did.
There was no way she’d know a crew like us wouldn’t venture into downtown as long as we could help it.
Where she was from, the Celtic Riders probably owned downtown Yuma. Whereas we stayed away from any property in downtown as much as we could in order to keep our cover with some of the shit we got ourselves into.
I mean, that damn place was crawling with police we hadn’t yet tapped into.
We turned down Main Street, and I put a few cars behind us.
I wanted to make it looked like I was backing off so that Freya felt comfortable enough going to her hotel.
Sure, having the block she was on was a good start, but knowing where she was staying was even better.
I saw her warning lights flash, and I knew that was her signaling me.
“Back off or I drive by.”
I pulled off onto a one-way street and cruised up it quickly.
I took a hard left at the next light and followed it for a little while.
I kept my engine as silent as I could, which wasn’t saying much.
I looked down the alleyways to keep an eye on Freya’s car as she buzzed by every one-way street there was.
Then, I passed by an alleyway where her car didn’t appear.
I stopped revving my engine and took a hard left. I walked my bike down the one-way road until I came to the break in the sidewalk. I looked all around me, trying to pinpoint exactly where Freya had gone.
I couldn’t see her car anywhere, though.
Shit.
What I’d done wasn’t necessarily smooth. Just a last-ditch effort to figure out where she was staying. And if she knew what I was doing, it could put a damper on the trust we were trying to form with one another. Suddenly, those renovations at my place started to look mighty nice.
“Nicer than pissing off the daughter of the most infamous crew around,” I murmured to myself.
I turned around and walked my bike back up the alleyway.
I took a left onto the one-way street and softly cruised it at a cool fifteen miles an hour.
I breathed in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as it could have gotten for downtown.
But when headlights came around the corner and turned off, my heart leapt into my throat.
I took a hard right into the first alley I saw, hoping to avoid a fucking head-on collision.
I listened to the car ease to a slowed pace. I furrowed my brow as I crept my bike back out to the one-way road. I caught the tail end of the car turning into what I thought was an abandoned building. But when I took a good look at the cement wall I hid behind, I realized what it was attached to.
A parking garage.
I didn’t know what possessed me to sit there, but I did. I watched a few cars come and go from the parking garage. I didn’t even know this damn thing was back here. The more you learn, I supposed. It wasn’t until that small, thick figure emerged from the parking deck that my eyes widened.
A gigantic smile spread across my face.
Freya turned on a flashlight and gripped her purse tightly to her stomach.
She rushed across the small one-way street, her feet leaping for the alleyway sidewalk.
She looked petrified, and rightly so for what she’d been through tonight.
I eased myself onto the deserted one-way road and walked my bike up to the corner.
I got there in just enough time to see her open what looked like a fucking front door to an almost-hidden hotel.
My eyes drifted to the illuminated sign on top of the small covered entryway.
The Font of San Diego.
I didn’t recognize the name of the hotel. Then again, I didn’t venture into downtown much. But as I revved my engine and sped off down the one-way street, a renewed sense of vigor filled my veins.
I knew where Freya was holed up for her stay in the city.