Chapter Five
Most days the mail truck came like clockwork.
So much so, Cleo had set an alarm on her phone.
Today had been no different. She sat on the steps of the front porch looking down to the road.
The mailbox couldn’t be seen except through a bald spot in the woods.
Other than that, it was completely obscured.
She tapped her fingertips on the wood and strained her neck when she heard a familiar rumbling.
It was a quick flash, but she saw the white truck whiz past the opening then heard screeching brakes.
Cleo pushed up from the steps and walked down the long driveway. She grabbed the mail and started up the path, sifting through the pile. It was mostly junk with a few bills for some of the members. She was losing hope when she flipped to the last envelope, and her chest tightened.
The letters only came once a month, but they’d been steady for the last six. It was one of few highlights and something she was able to look forward to. After the last day or two, she hadn’t found an abundance of happiness in the clubhouse. She only had herself to blame. She’d messed up. Again.
Cleo shook her head, ridding her mind of the past. She had something good to focus on.
She smiled, scanning over the light pink envelope with perfect penmanship.
She quickly folded it and shoved it in her back pocket when she heard the rumbling of engines.
She scooted off to the side of the driveway and waved as Cue and Joker passed.
Only Cue acknowledged her, dipping his chin.
Of all the members, he was the quietest. At least with her.
Cue didn’t tease her or engage much but he always left her fifty dollars on his dresser when she cleaned his room.
That was on top of what she was paid directly from the club.
By the time she reached the house, they had disappeared behind the building. A lot of them chose to park in the back, especially when they were gearing up for their weekly parties. It always amazed her how many people came considering none lived in Killcreek.
Cleo walked inside, leaving the mail on the small table near the entrance. She rushed upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom. Once inside, she locked the door and pulled out the envelope. The handwriting was perfect.
Dear Cleo,
I hope this letter finds you well.
She always started off that way. Initially, it seemed like an obligatory introduction. As time passed, Cleo realized it was genuine.
I loved your story about the donuts in the parking lot on the ice.
I laughed so hard, I spit out half my coffee.
Like you, it’s not the response I would’ve given the police officer either.
But so funny! He had quite the guts, unlike me who probably would’ve cried and begged for forgiveness from the cop.
Then I would’ve pleaded my case so as to not get a ticket.
Gahhh, my father would’ve lost his mind and I would’ve been grounded until I was eighteen.
Most parents would have a similar reaction. Not their mom, though. She never cared about anything her brother or she did.
Speaking of fathers, you never mention yours.
If it’s too personal, I completely understand.
Father daughter relationships can be tricky.
I haven’t always had the best with my dad.
For a long time, we didn’t see eye to eye on everything.
My mother always said we butt heads so much because we’re too much alike, stubborn, always up for a debate and we love too hard.
Is that even a thing? I think loving fiercely is the truest way to love someone.
And from everything you’ve told me, that’s how Knox loved you.
I wish I could’ve met him. Of course, I wouldn’t be here, if not for him.
I have to cut this letter short. I have a job interview. I’m nervous. Been out of the workforce for a few years and don’t know exactly how I fit in anymore. That pretty much sums up how I feel about everything lately. But we should always do things that scare us, right? So, wish me luck!
Write when you can. I love getting your letters. And have you given any more thought to sending me the list? No pressure. I was just wondering. And, hoping. I’m totally okay with whatever you decide.
Hope to hear from you soon!
Addison
Cleo wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffled, and read the letter again. And again. There were few things that gave her comfort and an unexplainable connection to her brother.
This was one of them.
Cleo was tempted to read it again, but the sudden knock on her door had her shoving the letter under her covers.
She wasn’t necessarily hiding it, but it was one of few things that was all hers.
She patted down the comforter and rushed to the door.
When she opened it, Cleo expected to see a prospect, knowing most of the members were on a run.
Nothing surprised her more than to see Ace standing in the hall. This was a first. Usually if he wanted to talk to her, he sent her a text, and she’d have to go to him.
“Hi.”
Things were still a bit awkward since her Poker Night Caper two days ago. Thankfully, most of the members including Wraith left for a run the next morning. She was spared from making her rounds of an apology tour, starting with him.
Ace scanned her face, furrowing his brows. “Why are you crying?”
Uh-oh! Cleo nervously wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. Her skin was still moist and her lashes damp. She hadn’t even considered what her eyes might look like when she answered the door.
“What’s wrong?” His tone was suspicious.
“Oh” —She forced a laugh— “I was looking at something on my phone.”
“What?”
Oh, come on, Ace, do you even care? Apparently, he did. He folded his arms, waiting. Cleo was quick to think of the last sad thing she saw. She snapped her fingers.
“A dog being reunited with its owner after four years. It was very heartwarming.”
Ace stared back at her, giving no indication he believed her. But Cleo was quick to change the subject.
“Do you need something?” She asked.
“Yeah, the name of Reyna’s client you were supposed to meet up with.”
She raised her brows, caught off guard by the question. She would have thought he’d ask Reyna. But she wasn’t going to argue. She was in enough trouble with the club.
“Evan. But I don’t know his last name.”
Ace scanned her face, nodding. “Alright. Need you to help out downstairs.”
“Sure.”
“Take an inventory of all the bars. Liquor, beer, kegs, everything.”
Cleo flattened her lips. She wasn’t opposed to the job, but that was usually managed by the prospects.
“The prospects won’t mind?”
He arched his brow. “If they have a problem, they can come see me.”
She smiled. “Okay. I’ll start now. I probably won’t finish by the time I leave for the motel, but I can…”
“No.” Ace said. “This is priority. I need it done, so you won’t be working tonight.”
She knitted her brows. “Okay.”
Ace snorted. “Better deal hanging here in the air conditioning and crunching numbers than sweating your ass off and cleaning dirty fucking sheets, right?”
She tried to batten down her laughter, but she couldn’t, releasing a small giggle. “Much better deal.”
“Alright then.” Ace walked down the hall, and she closed the door.
Doing inventory wasn’t a huge upgrade from cleaning, but it would be a nice change. And as Ace pointed out, better accommodations.
Sweet!
****
They were about thirty minutes from Killcreek when Cross waved his hand toward the exit. If Wraith had his way, they’d drive straight through. But he wasn’t leading the club. He switched lanes before any of the others, and the rest of the club followed suit.
The ramp off the exit was a four way stop.
Cross made the initial stop but they drove through as a club.
There were two other cars waiting. The small compact sedan across from them seemed to be patient.
The other car, not so much. The man honked but didn’t get any attention.
When he started to slowly inch up, Wraith jerked his head around to stare down the driver, and the car suddenly braked.
The driver was reading Wraith’s message loud and clear.
Don’t make me get off my bike, you’re not gonna like the outcome.
They parked in front of the familiar bar.
It was a local hangout and a frequent stop for the club when traveling the highway.
Ace and Cross had gotten close to the owner, Barry, over the years.
The Drifters served as protection in a sense.
The owner hadn’t hired the club, but their frequent presence was enough to keep the locals in line. It also helped weed out the passersby.
“Gotta take a piss,” Cross said, rounding the bikes.
Wraith stretched his back, prepared to stay with the motorcycles. Oak, Ghost, and Gent had other ideas. They followed Cross toward the entrance.
“Where the fuck are you three going?”
Oak glanced over his shoulder, smiling. “Can’t come to a bar and not get a beer. That defies all the laws of common sense.”
“The saying is gravity, asshole.”
Oak shrugged with a chuckle. “I’m feeling the pull to sit my ass on a stool.”
“Feeling that same pull, brother,” Ghost said just before disappearing inside.
Wraith grasped the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. He’d been with the club long enough to know that there wasn’t such a thing as one beer. It always turned into at least two, if not more.
Wraith walked up the short path, grabbed the door, and swung it open. A couple jumped back and scurried toward the wall as he entered. At six foot six, his size alone was intimidating. Most people kept their distance. In the event someone got brazen, direct eye contact usually did the trick.
The members were sitting at the bar. The place itself wasn’t much more than a dive bar. It had a stage and small tables with mismatched chairs scattered around the room.