CHAPTER 19
SHADOW
It’s not far to Galway, about thirty minutes, where we’re making our first stop. Some older riders and less experienced ones will eat lunch with the group and then ride back to the clubhouse and wait for us. It makes everyone feel included.
With so many bikes, it took us longer than we’d planned, but by the smell of the barbecue wafting in the air, lunch is ready. I dismount from my bike and make my way to the large white tent set up in the grassy area. Twisted Tap is too small to handle this many customers inside.
The bikes are still rolling. With the Thorns bringing up the rear, it’ll be a bit before I’m on Storm duty. Not that I mind.
I approach Wiz. “What would you like me to do?”
She gives me a knowing smile. “You’ve only got one assignment for the rest of the day.”
“That’s it?” I’m surprised she doesn’t want me helping with the food line.
“Yep, that’s it.” She points to the lot. “Looks like they’re just pulling in.”
As I walk away, Wiz says, “See what you can find out about Aces.”
I pull up. “Didn’t she pass a few months ago?”
“January.” There’s a distinct edge in her voice, and her eyes are hard.
It feels off, her wanting intel on someone who’s dead. Or does she suspect Aces is the key to uncovering the depth of the Thorns’ operations?
“Uh, yeah, sure thing.” There’s so much I want to ask, but not with Wiz like this. Slinking off is what a shadow does best, so that’s what I do.
When Storm and Dimples walk into the tent, I approach them. “I apologize the line is so long. Seems like everyone’s hungry.”
Storm greets me before she directs her members to snatch up the nearby empty tables.
“Hey, Shadow,” Dimples says and pulls me in for a hug. “I didn’t want to bother you while you were working, but now I can get my hug. How have you been?”
“Good. How about you?” I answer.
Before Dimples can respond, Storm says, “So you’re the one riding the Shovelhead?”
“I am.” I brace myself, avoiding eye contact with Storm. I know my bike isn’t much, but she’s mine.
“Hey, that wasn’t an insult,” Storm says.
Dimples raises her hand. “I can vouch for that. She was eyeing it.”
I glance at Storm, not believing she’d see anything in my old bucket of bolts.
“I’m into old bikes,” Storm says. “I still have my old Honda Rebel.”
“A Rebel? Seriously?” I smile.
“Seriously,” Dimples says. “It’s in a place of honor in our damned clubhouse.”
“My old Shovelhead should be in a museum.”
“Where’d you get it?” Storm asks.
“I inherited it from my grandpa. I always had dirt bikes when I was a kid, but I never rode a street bike.”
“How long ago was that?” Dimples asks.
“My grandpa died seven years ago, but I didn’t start riding it until I was thirty—so for two years.”
“Why’d you wait so long?” Storm asks.
“Circumstances.”
Curiosity flashes in Storm’s eyes, and I brace for a question I’m not prepared to answer, but then her expression changes. “How do you handle the overheating? The oil leaks?” Storm asks.
I shrug. “I’ve learned to read her and baby her.”
“You haven’t modified it?”
“Not yet.” And I doubt I will soon since every penny I make is for surviving, the kids, and saving up for a lawyer.
Storm turns abruptly. “Hey, Prospect,” she says. “Number One.”
A striking black woman hustles around the table. “Yes, President.”
Storm throws her arm over the much taller prospect’s shoulder. “She’s handy with a wrench. You can’t believe the magic she works on our bikes. Bring your bike to Black Briar Motors, and we’ll hook you up.”
I smile and nod. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Storm studies me. I’m sure she’s trying to figure out why I’m politely blowing her off. I sense she doesn’t miss much. Her gaze holds me longer than expected.
I’ve been trained to despise the Thorns, and I’m only following Wiz’s orders, so I shouldn’t be enjoying being in Storm’s presence. But I am.
“It’s always the ones you least expect that surprise you,” Storm says.
Shit. Is she on to me?
“I mean. When I was eyeing the bike, never in a million years would I have guessed it’s yours.”
The tension in my shoulders relaxes. “I get that a lot. When the residents at the nursing home where I work find out I ride, I get interesting reactions.”
Dimples smiles. “I can imagine.”
“Hey.” I lift my arms and place my fists against my hips. “Are you saying I can’t pull off badass biker?”
Dimples scrunches up her face. “Dressed like you are. Yeah, you can a little. But I’m thinking in scrubs, nope.”
I grin. She’s right. In my case, the clothes make the woman.
“Never judge a book by its cover.” Storm throws her arm over the prospect’s shoulders again. “Right, Prospect?”
The prospect’s cheeks darken. “I learned my lesson,” she mumbles.
“Sorry.” I smile at the prospect. “But I need to hear this story.”
The prospect puts her hand over her face, but I can see her smile through her fingers. “In my defense, they set me up.”
I glance between Dimples and Storm, who are both chuckling. “It’s part of our initiation,” Dimples says. “Rouge.”
I laugh. Rouge’s riding skills are legendary, so I see where the story is going. “This should be good.”
The prospect shakes her head. “It’s not.” She puts her hand against her chest. “At least not for me.” Her smile gives her away, though.
“We always send Rouge out with the cocky ones,” Storm says. She claps the prospect on the back. “And this one walked in confident in her riding. Rightfully so. She’s got skills, but we like to make sure our prospects understand there’s always someone better.”
“And it’s fun watching them underestimate Rouge,” Dimples says. “What were you thinking when Storm sent you with Rouge and told you to keep up?”
The prospect smiles. “Honestly?”
“That’s what we expect of a Thorn,” Storm says.
“I figured she was screwing with me. So I strutted out to my bike, thinking it was going to be a lame-ass ride.”
“And Rouge loves to play along,” Dimples says. “She fumbles with her gear and drives out of the lot extra cautious.”
“That was the worst,” the prospect says.
“I’m thinking, Oh, my god, is she going to tip over in the lot?
And then we hit the pavement.” The prospect’s eyes widen.
“Holy fuck. I’ve never seen anyone accelerate through the gears like she did.
I was a mile behind her before I knew what the hell hit me. ”
We’re all laughing now, including the prospect.
“Ya ate some humble pie that day, didn’t you?” Storm says.
“I sure did.” The prospect holds up her hands, which are balled into fists. “I was holding my grips so tight that I couldn’t unclench my hands for days.”
The good-natured teasing continues until I say, “The line’s going down. Are the Thorns ready to grab some food?”
“Are you going to escort us?” Storm gives me a crooked grin, and warmth spreads across my chest.
Jesus. I need to stop reacting to her. “That’s my assignment,” I say in my most casual tone. “I’m supposed to make you feel welcome.”
Storm takes a half step back and looks me up and down. “I approve of the Graces’ welcome wagon.”
There was nothing subtle about it, which leaves me tongue-tied.
Dimples elbows Storm. “Stop. You’re making her uncomfortable.”
“Sorry, I’ll be good,” Storm says.
I scan the nearby tables, but none of the others, except the prospect, seem to be paying attention to our interactions. That kind of familiarity between Dimples and Storm catches me off guard, but I sense they have a different relationship.
Shit. Are they dating? I thought Storm was flirting, but perhaps I misread everything. But it’s for the best. I don’t need a Thorn flirting with me. I need to fulfill my obligation, and it’ll all be over by tomorrow.
Storm whistles to get her club’s attention. “Let’s get some grub.”
I walk beside Storm to the buffet line, suddenly conscious of Dimples, who’s on her other side. While I’m normally not bold with my questions, something compels me to ask, “How long have you two been together?”
Storm’s eyes widen. “What? Who?”
Dimples must have overheard the exchange because she leans over and peeks around Storm. “Together? Us?” She lets out a laugh. “She couldn’t handle me.”
Storm grins. “True. Very true.” She puts her arm around Dimples as they walk. Because Storm’s presence is so large, I hadn’t realized how much taller Dimples is. “She’s my right hand. The best thing that came out of prospecting.”
As we wait in the buffet line, they tell a story of their prospecting days together. The affection between the pair is unmistakable, and I envy their friendship. I’d once had friends like that, but one by one, Margot chased them from my life.
No, that wasn’t true. I’d let them drift away because it was easier than challenging Margot. Once I’d joined the club, I’d made new friends, but still I miss the long-term connections I once had.
“You’re gonna sit with us, aren’t you?” Storm asks.
“Um…well…uh…” I’d not considered it or even thought about eating lunch since I’ve not been hungry all morning. But my mouth is watering standing in front of the pulled pork.
“It’s okay,” Storm says. Is that disappointment in her eyes? It couldn’t be. “I mean, I know you probably don’t want to soil your reputation being seen with the likes of us.”
Although her voice holds a teasing note, I don’t believe it. My entire interaction with Storm has been surprising. I would almost swear that her eyes showed hurt. Impulsively, I say, “Of course I’ll have lunch with you.”
I catch Wiz’s eye as I follow Storm to her table, and she gives me an approving nod. I return her smile and keep walking.