CHAPTER THREE
Olive turned out to be a great hire for the team. She’d always worked part-time in the shop and was great at helping customers, but now she was adding an additional layer of talent and expertise.
Her thoughts around improvements for the military motorcycles, police motorcycles and other first-responder vehicles, were off the charts.
She’d proposed that the bikes, in spite of their loud exhaust pipes, be fitted with modified stealth technologies, allowing the bikes to approach like other vehicles created at G.R.I.P.
What really impressed the guys was her ability to help customers choose things right for their needs. With the help of Gwen and some of the other wives, an entire line of motorcycle attire had been created not just for the hardcore bikers, but the weekend warriors.
They never worried about her desire to stay close to Belle Fleur, or her desire to live on the property. It seemed normal. After all, it was where she was raised, went to school, and where her friends were, her family.
When they started to worry was when she refused to leave the property. She didn’t want to attend events off site. She didn’t want to go into the city. And when they asked if she might want to attend one of the biggest bike shows in the country, she begged them to let her stay behind.
“Honey, is something wrong?” asked Razor.
“No, no,” she said smiling nervously. “Everything is good, I promise. I just like being at home. I know that’s silly but I feel best when I’m here.”
“We won’t force you,” said Skull. “We just want to be sure that you’re okay. You know that you can come to us with anything. Any time.”
“I know,” she smiled. “I think of all of you as surrogate uncles or fathers. I just like being home.”
She turned and walked toward a box of new t-shirts that needed to be steamed and hung on the rack. They watched her silently for a minute and then looked at one another.
“Something is fucking wrong,” growled Razor. “I don’t know what. I don’t know how but something is wrong. She wouldn’t even go to The Well with all of us the other day for lunch.”
“This weekend is Jennifer’s wedding. We’ll ask her if she figured out what’s happening. They’ve known one another twenty years now.” Moose grimaced and touched his chest.
“Fuck. That makes me really old.”
“You were old before you mentioned it,” smirked Razor. “Speaking of the wedding, have you met the new guys that were part of Grayson’s team?”
“I have. They’re all top notch. What we would expect from Marines. They were all given early retirement and will be joining us full time. We can damn sure use the help,” said Skull.
“I’m going to the back to check something in inventory,” called Olive. The two men smiled and nodded, looking at one another.
“Why would she leave what she’s currently doing to go back to check stock?” asked Moose, staring at Skull.
“Maybe we need to have the boys monitor her incoming texts and emails,” said Razor. “I hate doing that but if she’s really in trouble we need to know about it.”
The bell above the door rang and two men walked in wearing worn leather cuts.
They had club vests on but the patch on the back of the vest was gone, leaving only the Velcro strips that held it there.
Razor gave a curt nod and walked to the window toward the shop.
He looked at Gunner, Griff and Bryce with a knowing gaze.
The three men dropped their tools, wiped their hands and one-by-one stepped into the retail space.
“Can I help you boys?” asked Skull.
“Just lookin’. No harm in that, right?”
“None at all. I noticed the cut but no name. You lose it on the road?” he asked calmly. The two men chewed the inside of their mouths, then smirked at him.
“A man who knows the industry,” grinned one of the men. He was about fifty, dirty from the road, scruffy beard, and hard gray eyes. His hands were covered in leather motorcycle gloves, his long hair held back with an elastic band.
“We’ve been around,” nodded Skull. “So. Did you lose it?”
“Didn’t lose it. Just don’t like everyone to know our business.” Gunner moved around the counter and stared at the two men, then casually looked out the window.
“Your bikes look like they’ve seen better days. Are you looking for something new?” he asked casually. The two men laughed.
“Brother, your bikes start at sixty-thousand. We’re not in a place to buy today. Not yet.”
“Well, feel free to look around,” said Gunner.
“I’m looking for something for my old lady. You got a girl or woman that works here who can help me pick something out?”
“Only men work here,” said Razor. “Girls make things difficult.”
The two men frowned, looking at one another and then around at the shop.
“It’s an awfully neat, tidy place for a bunch of big dudes,” laughed one of the men.
“We’re neat, tidy kind of men,” said Skull. “The women’s items are over there.”
“That’s okay. We’ll come back another day with the old ladies. Want to make sure they get what they want, you know how that is.”
None of the men said a word as they watched the two men get on their bikes and leave. They stared at one another, then heard the familiar sound of footsteps softly walking toward the front. When Olive came through the door, they waited for an explanation.
Her face was flushed yet still pale overall. Her hands were trembling and she seemed breathless.
“Olive? You okay, honey?” asked Gunner.
“Yeah. Yeah, fine,” she stammered. “Let me get this box done.”
“Olive,” said Skull reaching for her hand. “You know that you can tell us anything. Anything at all. If you’re in trouble you let us know and we’ll handle it.”
“No. No, it’s all okay. Please. Just let me get back to work.” Skull nodded at her, then turned to the others, pushing them back toward the garage.
“Anybody buy that bullshit?” asked Razor.
“Nope,” said Gunner. “That girl is in trouble. Skull, get the tech boys to follow her phone more closely. If she doesn’t have a tracker, put one in her. Something is bad here. Really bad.”