Chapter 6
*~* Cannon *~*
Cruising around town on my trusty hog, I was beginning to feel I was ignoring her since I got the truck, I’m enjoying the breeze and the throbbing of the engine.
Bull is working his tech magic to find out who Santos’s boss could be, but I’m more of a hands-on guy than a techy, so I thought I’d get eyes on the streets and go old-school.
I’m pleasantly surprised by the number of smiles I get as I cruise, and more than one kid has given me a wave.
I suppose we hardened bikers should expect people to be afraid of us, but honestly, I think that any club that has that mentality these days isn’t old-school, more like outdated.
Seeing a coffee shop with tables and parking out front, I pull over and let my hog sit in the middle spot of three.
No one is going to open a door and bang her paintwork where she is at the moment.
Walking into the shop, the smell of coffee and food is just divine, there’s no other word for it, and I take a deep lungful to fully appreciate it. Ordering a large black coffee and a breakfast sandwich with extra bacon and sausage, I take one of the outside tables and watch the world go by.
Having sat and relaxed for thirty minutes, I’m about to make tracks when an SUV squeals into one of the spots by my hog.
The passenger door swings open and makes contact with my handlebars, fortunately not my gas tank.
A foot drops to the ground, followed a moment later by another, then a crutch.
The door swings closed, and there, I kid you not, stands Santos.
A thought flashes in my mind like a shooting star on a dark, cloudless night.
All this time I’d been going around town I’d been looking for him on a bike, I forgot he wouldn’t be riding with his broken leg.
What an idiot! Walking quickly to him, before he gets a chance to recognize me, I push him against the side of the vehicle.
“Hello, Santos. Fancy meeting you again. You just hit my hog.”
A shadow falls over the pair of us, and looking in the reflection of the window, I see Big Ugly standing behind me. I turn to face him, and he gives me the sort of grin that I assume he uses all the time to intimidate people. Only thing is , it doesn’t work for me.
Far from being intimidated, I reach out and grab the hand that I remember Hellion had done something to the last time we all met.
I grab it, squeeze as hard as I can, and twist it all at the same time.
There must be some aftereffects from whatever Hellion had done because he winces and drops to his knees.
I must remember to ask Hellion about it.
“I suggest you go back to whatever you were here to do and leave me and Santos to have our conversation. Now run along before you really get hurt,” I ease the pressure on his hand, and when he nods at me, I let him go. When he’s on the other side of the vehicle, I turn back to Santos.
“We have a little unfinished business, you and I. Who is your boss?” He looks at me as though he’s going to be brave and tell me to go fuck myself, or some other insult, so I help him along by tapping his broken shin with my foot. This has the desired effect, and he starts to sing like a canary.
“Senator Haroldson isn’t going to like it that you’re doing this. He didn’t like it when your gang ambushed us. He’s going to make you suffer for that.” Santos starts getting brave again as he spouts this bullshit.
“Senator Haroldson is dead. It was all over the news.”
“We know all about that. It could be you next if Stephan, the next Senator Haroldson, gives us the word.” So, there it is. Confirmation that Pres was right about the son killing his father and taking over the family business.
“Your boss should leave us the hell alone. We don’t want trouble, but if he starts it with us, we will damn well finish it. I’ll be looking for you and Big Ugly there to settle this personally and finally. You understand what that means?”
“I understand, but you don’t understand what you’re up against. He can call up an army that will squash you just like a bug on a windshield. He won’t lose any sleep over it, either.” Santos grins and causes me to lose my shit altogether.
Grabbing him by the collar, I lift his feet clean off the ground and squeeze my hands against his throat.
It doesn’t take long for him to start turning blue and his hands scrabble at mine, trying to release the grip.
It’s only then that I realize I have drawn an audience.
Dropping him to the ground, I shout loud enough for them to hear, “Don’t touch my Harley again, or threaten me or my club.
” Turning to my hog, I pretend to look at imaginary damage.
“You all saw that, didn’t you? They charged in here and hit my bike.
What if that had been a mother and child going to cross the road? Eh?”
Several of the crowd shout agreement at this, and the attention transfers to the SUV. Thinking better of whatever they came here for, Santos and Big Ugly climb aboard, the SUV backs into the road and takes off quickly.
I give my bike a last look-over and then slip my helmet on and mount up.
A guy comes over and offers me a business card.
“I saw the whole thing from inside the shop. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I saw them hit your bike handlebars and the big guy was obviously going to hurt you.
That was self-defense, and you stopped it from escalating into a fight.
If you need a witness, I’ll stand up and tell the world you were threatened. ”
Glancing at the business card, I see the name Grover Cleveland, Esq. Attorney at Law. The name is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it right away. Looking at him, he must get that a lot because his smile and nod say it all.
“Thank you, Grover. I’ll call if anything comes of it. I’ll keep the card because you never know when you might need a good, honest lawyer.” This comment makes him stand a little straighter, and I see the compliment has hit home.
“Call me anytime. I’ll be glad to help. What’s your name, by the way?” He asks, offering his hand at the same time.
“I go by Cannon. I’m the Vice President of the Bitter Slayers Motorcycle Club.” I shake his hand, and he has a nice, firm grip. I like that. There’s nothing worse than a sloppy, loose handshake, in my book. He laughs and raises his eyebrows at me.
“Well, that must be a first for this town. A president and Vice President shaking hands in the street!”
It takes a moment, but then it clicks. Grover Cleveland was a US President.
“I knew I knew the name, but it didn’t come to me. Hell, yeah. That’s a hell of a conversation starter you have there.” I grin at him, and then we both laugh before going our separate ways.
Arriving at the crem, Prophet is in the office. He looks up as I walk in. “Hi, Cannon. Get everything done you wanted to?”
“Sure did. Even got to shake hands with an ex-president.” I explain what happened and then get on the phone to Pres. He needs to know what has been said.
After a fit of swearing, some at me but most at the Haroldson family, he tells me to call an officers meeting for tonight and before the evening meal. Dropping a group text to the officers takes only a moment, and then Prophet tells me I have an appointment at lunchtime.
“Who do I have an appointment with? I have nothing scheduled for today.” I frown because I certainly haven’t arranged anything.
“A very attractive lady called in to see you specifically about having a dog cremated. Didn’t want to speak to me, asked for you and seemed very put out that you weren’t here.
She said she’d be back at lunchtime because that’s when I said you’d be here.
I think you’d be on to a winner there, Cannon.
She’s certainly piqued my interest.” Prophet says that with respect and not like a dog in heat.
“I don’t know any woman with a dog. Did she leave her name?”
“No, but I know her face from somewhere, just can’t place it.
It’s not the sort of face you forget easily.
She’s about 5’4”, very shapely, with long blond curly hair.
I think her eyes are her best feature. They are a very dark blue, almost black.
They caught my attention before anything else, and that’s unusual for me because I am unashamedly a boob man.
She isn’t lacking in that department, but like I said, her eyes are stunning. ”
“That describes Barbara from Jamie’s medical practice. I don’t know anyone else with eyes like that, and you’re right. They are a hell of a feature. She’s raised my temperature more than once with just a look from them. I didn’t know she had a dog, though.”
“I don’t have a dog. It’s my neighbor's.” The voice startles both Prophet and me. I hope to God she hasn’t been outside the door very long. I didn’t shut it as I came in, so she could have heard what we’ve just been saying about her.
“Hello, Barbara. I would say I’m pleased to see you, but this isn’t really the sort of place to be pleased to see anyone.” I can feel myself about to go into some sort of ramble, so I shut the hell up.
Prophet doesn’t help when he smirks at my discomfort and gets up to leave the office.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, oh, and sort out the business of the dog.
Nice to meet you, Barbara, and if Cannon isn’t able to satisfy your needs in any way, please don’t hesitate to come to me.
I’m sure I could help you.” Leaving the office, he makes a point of closing the door behind him.
“Barbara, please take a seat and let’s see what we can do for you. I have only been here for a few minutes, and we didn’t get to discuss anything about your pet dog.” I give her my best ‘sorry about that’ smile.
“What exactly did you get to discuss?” She says it with a pout on her lips, and I know she heard what we were saying. I can’t help but blush, and that just confirms my guilt.
“I’m so sorry, Barbara. That’s not how we normally behave or conduct business. Prophet was describing you because he didn’t get a name, that was all. We meant no disrespect.”
Fuck, fuck and more fucks. What a hole to dig yourself into. I can’t think of anything worse than being caught talking about a woman's assets by that woman. Fuck, fuck and another fuck, just for good measure.
“I’m not offended. I’m flattered that you recognized me from his description.
I’m pleased that you thought my eyes are my best feature.
Most men don’t get as far as my eyes, if you get my meaning.
I’m very pleased to hear that I can raise your temperature with just a look. That gives me hope for the future.”
Oh…my…God! She heard everything. How the hell do I get out of this unscathed. I think of Grover Cleveland, Esq. Attorney at Law. I may need his services sooner than I could have imagined.
“I’m so sorry, Barbara. I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m on my lunch break and haven’t eaten. Take me to lunch, and I’ll think about letting you off the hook.” She looks at me with those huge, beautiful eyes, and I hear myself agreeing. I’m still sitting there staring at her when she pulls me out of my trance.
“Come on, then. I only have an hour,” she states.
When we get outside, I realize I have the hog and not the truck. This doesn’t faze her one bit as she casually takes a helmet from Prophet's bike and slips it on. I drop him a quick text to say I’ve borrowed his brain box, and before he can object we straddle my hog and we head into town.
I wasn’t expecting to be riding with a beautiful woman on my hog when I woke up this morning.
“Why thank you, Cannon. That’s a lovely thing to say.”
Oh! I said that out loud. I must be careful of that going forward. Some of my thoughts about Barbara had best be left unheard, I think. Especially how she’s making me feel with her hands around my waist and her assets pressing into my back. Wow!