Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
March, New Jersey
Pilot crossed his arms over his chest. He was hot in combat boots, loose jeans, and long sleeve t-shirt, but he couldn’t complain because Tate and Davey were decked out in their race gear and they had to be hotter than him, yet they never complained.
He wiped his forehead and searched the immediate area.
Bryce had started practicing on their off time and that helped his mood a lot. Watching the Apex mechanics seemed to help him, too.
Pilot made a mental note to buy him some tools so he could work on bikes during the off season.
Oh! And a bike to work on. He figured he could afford a cheap, used one for him to practice on.
Why not? Hell, Johnny was right about having people in his life that made him happy.
Otherwise, saving all that money wasn’t really worth it.
His dream wouldn’t mean half as much, and making Bryce and Tate happy meant everything to him, so buying something for Bryce to work on would be a small but important thing to do.
Maybe it would help that dynamic of their relationship.
He still didn’t always feel close enough to Bryce.
In the glow of his crazy three-way relationship, he realized how lonely he’d been before.
Working at the gym, fighting, and his security job really didn’t fulfill him like these two young men did.
He felt more relaxed and that ever present need to rip someone’s head in had left him.
He’d felt that tense aggression since leaving the service.
It was like no matter what he did, he wasn’t doing enough.
He felt like he had to fight every second of every day to stay in control, or his whole world would come crashing down around him.
The fighting had helped with that, but not nearly as much as being with Tate and Bryce had.
He couldn’t regret leaving the underground fighting.
“What are you smiling about, big-guy?” Mickey asked, pointing a greasy wrench at him.
Pilot let his smile morph into a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He winked. Mickey was fun to flirt with. He was straight and that made him safe, but he was also up for it—a real joker.
“Uh, no. Maybe I wouldn’t.” He looked over at Bryce who shared Pilot’s smirk.
Tyler laughed. “I can just imagine! Sure you don’t want details, Mick?” He wiggled his eyebrows, playfully.
For once, Mickey didn’t seem to have a smart come back. “Uh...”
“It’s pretty hot!” Pilot laughed, as Mickey’s face turned pink.
He held up his wrench. “No. Uh, I’ll take a pass on that one. You dirty dog.”
“Very dirty,” Bryce commented.
Mickey shook his head. “Fuck this. I’m getting back to work.”
Tyler burst out laughing. “Now I know the secret.”
“What secret?” Mickey asked, scowling.
“The secret to get you to shut up and work. Just start talking about gay sex.”
Mickey’s face flushed with pink again, darker this time. “Oh, God! Shut up.”
Tyler and Bryce laughed even harder and Pilot couldn’t help but laugh too.
“What’s so funny over here?” Angel asked walking up with Stewart at her side.
Pilot shook his head, sure the blush had spread all over his face for them all to see. He didn’t want to share the joke with Angel. She was his boss on this job.
Tyler piped up. “Nothing. Inside joke.” He waved his wrench, as if to tell them to ignore their shenanigans. Pilot felt grateful to Tyler for that and relieved that they backed him on it, keeping it to themselves.
“Okay, fine.” Angel scowled, but Stewart just chuckled. He probably figured it was a guy thing, and it was, but probably not like he was thinking. Pilot bit his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing more.
Before they could dig into it further, Angel’s cell phone chimed. She scowled again and answered it. “Angel.”
Pause.
“Yeah? Fuck. Send it over.” Pilot had never known a woman to have such foul language. Angel dropped the f-bomb like it was her favorite word. “That fucker!” Maybe it was.
“What’s up?” Tyler asked, setting down his tools and picking up a rag to wipe his hands.
“So, our private eye guy...wait.” She tapped at her phone and swore under her breath. “He caught our good friend Shannon Parker paying off one of the 250 riders.”
“Paying them for what?” Pilot asked.
She kept flipping through her phone. “Well, the PI, Slaughter, followed the rider. He spray painted your hotel door, Pilot, sorry. But, what else he’s supposed to do, we don’t know, nor do we want to find out. At least not by just watching him.”
“So what now?” Bryce asked, his face darkened with anger. Pilot understood how he felt. These attacks were personal.
“Yeah, good question.” Pilot tucked his hands in his pockets, gaining control, before they hit something solid like a toolbox or the side of the rig.
Angel finally looked up from her phone. “I forwarded the pics. Evidence.” She grinned like she’d just got away with something she wasn’t supposed to do. “Sent them to the race officials and Slaughter took the information to the cops. They’re arresting the 250 guy now.”
“Okay, what about Parker?” Pilot wanted to go beat the shit out of the fucker.
“He’s on the track right now.”
That didn’t make Pilot happy. Tate was also in that heat. Pilot couldn’t hold back a snarl.
“Come on.” Tyler said. “We need to go watch the race. It should be starting, like now. Davey’s bike is good to go. He’ll be here...” Tyler looked at his watch. “In about twenty minutes, Mick. You can handle it.”
Mickey nodded, nothing but serious now, while the rest of them headed for the track. If Shannon Parker fucked with Tate, he was going to be sorry.
The race went smoothly. Tate won and Parker couldn’t even keep up. Tyler gave Pilot and Bryce high-fives and they greeted Tate and his mechanic, Andrew, when they rode toward the press station. When he finished talking to the press, Tyler filled him in on what was happening.
“What did he spray on our door?”
Angel pursed her lips like she didn’t want to say. Stewart bumped his shoulder into hers. “Fine,” she gave in with a heavy sigh. “Die faggots.”
Pilot growled. “I’m gonna—”
“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing.” Tate glared at him. “You don’t put yourself in danger.” He pointed his gloved finger at Pilot. He was right.
Pilot held up his hands.
“Stop it. We’re letting the officials handle it. Look.” She pointed and they all turned to look just in time to see track security, escorting Parker off the track. His mechanic took his bike, so he could go with them.
“This is going to make his sponsors happy.” Tyler’s smile almost looked evil. “And that should keep his ass off the track. Hopefully. This time.”
“Come on.” Angel pulled at Stewart’s jersey, but she indicated all of them with her head nod. They followed her back to the pit. She checked her phone again. “The 250 kid squealed.”
“Who was that?” Tate asked.
Angel looked down at her phone again. “Uh...Ethan Bowers.”
Tate made growling noise. “Fucker.”
“You think that pisses you off? Listen.” Angel flipped through her phone and started reading.
“He said Parker paid him three grand to spray paint the door and then wait until they showed up. Then, he was supposed to attack Tate again. But, he wasn’t the guy that did it the first time.
They arrested a second person with him. This other guy, uh, Tanner, Warren Tanner, was supposed to hold Bryce back.
” She looked up with a quizzical expression.
“I don’t think they realized you’d be with them, Pilot. That would have been something to see.”
Pilot wasn’t listening to her anymore. He was looking at Bryce.
His face had paled and he looked like he was going to puke.
Tanner was the guy that had been stalking him.
Pilot pushed passed Tate and Tyler and pulled Bryce into his arms, hugging him tight to his chest. If anything happened to him. ..
He kissed the top of Bryce’s head, not wanting to even think about anything happening to him.
Tate filled the others in on the guy and Angel started clicking away at her phone again. “Shit! They let him go. They didn’t connect the dots fast enough. I’m filling them in.”
Bryce started shaking in Pilot’s arms. “It’s okay, baby. They’ll get him.”
“I’m so sorry,” Bryce cried into Pilot’s chest.
Tate came up beside them, rubbing Bryce’s back. “Uh-uh. We talked about this. None of this is your fault. It’s all on Tanner. And Parker.”
Pilot swallowed his rage back. He wanted to kill both of the motherfuckers. He’d take apart anyone who threatened Tate and Bryce.
“Relax, Pilot,” Tyler said, grabbing his attention.
Tyler was right. Pilot had bared his teeth and clenched his jaw, but he couldn’t lose it. He had to be there for Bryce.