Chapter 3
Chapter three
Tarzan
Fetching lunch for the Reckless Order was menial work intended to keep me humble as a Prospect, setting aside my pride to serve the men I hoped to call my brothers one day. If I argued and raised a fuss that it was beneath me, it would prove I valued my ego over the bonds of brotherhood.
I could admit that it chafed a little. Most Prospects were young, like Viper, in his twenties.
Not my age. After a man committed to a club, he generally parked his ass there for the rest of his life.
Starting over was unusual, mostly because cutting ties with a club you had devoted so much time and energy to was a tedious and painful process.
But my other option was the nomad life. My loyalty would belong to no one except myself. Roaming like a tumbleweed with no club of my own, no place to call home.
I shook my head. No, that wouldn’t suit me. I'm the ride or die type. When I committed, I went all in.
The Huckleberry Diner wasn’t my choice. After the club argued for nearly fifteen minutes over where to get the best fries, an informal vote had been taken and the diner squeaked out a victory by two points.
The thought I might see Keely again didn’t cross my mind until I stood in the diner and she was right there, with her pin-up auburn curls, red lipstick, and beaming smile. My stomach somersaulted.
Fuck, I was acting like a teenage boy with a crush.
“Hot, fresh grub,” I announced as I entered the clubhouse. “Come and get it!”
While I deposited the paper bags on the bar counter, bikers swarmed around me. I unloaded the containers of food, passing them out.
I paused at a smaller container than the others, with For Tarzan written across the top in red marker.
I noticed you didn’t have any cherry pie on your list. So, I took the liberty of putting in a slice, just for you.
A small smile touched my lips at the memory.
Teddy peered over my shoulder, jerking his chin at the container in my hands.
“What’s that?”
“It’s mine,” I replied, tucking the box close.
“No shit. It has your name on it. I meant, what did you get? Burger? Chicken wings? A nice, light salad with dressing on the side because you’re watching your figure?”
I scoffed. “Ha ha. Very funny. Mind your own business and don’t touch my food.”
Wrong response. Teddy locked in, challenge accepted. He smoothly swiped the container before I could stop him.
“Damn it, Teddy,” I growled, grabbing for him.
He danced out of reach.
“It’s not Teddy anymore by the way,” he said. “It’s Trooper. I have a road name, same as you.”
“But you’re still a pain in my ass, just like you’ve always been. So I’ll keep calling you Teddy. Now stop messing with my food and give it back.”
Teddy made direct eye contact and flipped the lid open.
“Ooooh, cherry pie! And it smells amazing. Wait a minute. There’s something else here…”
A napkin was folded next to the pie. Teddy took it out and held it up. A lipstick kiss marked the white napkin, with a phone number written in the same red ink and a little scribbled heart. Underneath it was Keely’s name.
My mouth went dry.
She gave me her number.
Teddy arched an eyebrow with amusement and waved the napkin at me.
“Well, well, well. My grumpy big brother has a secret admirer.”
Snickers rippled through the club, amused at our sibling drama. I gritted my teeth.
“Teddy. Give it back. Or I’ll wring your scrawny little neck.”
He grinned and pressed the napkin to his nose.
“Mmm. Perfume. She smells so sweet, brother. I bet she tastes as good as this cherry pie, too.”
Jealousy prickled up my spine. I knew Teddy was simply messing with me to get a reaction. And I had no claim on Keely anyway, so my jealousy was out of place.
It must have been an old wound acting up. Watching Stevie fall in love with another man right before my eyes had left me raw, bleeding. For a brief moment, I envisioned Teddy and Keely hitting it off, and I would be forced to watch from the sidelines again.
But Teddy wouldn’t stab me in the back like that. He was simply making a nuisance of himself because he saw the opportunity to pester me.
I lunged for Teddy, but he yipped with laughter and stepped behind Bruiser, the Enforcer, using his broad frame as a shield.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Bruiser grumbled, hunched over his sandwich at the bar.
“But I need protection,” Teddy said. “That’s your job.”
Bruiser snorted.
“You picked this fight for no good reason other than to piss off your big brother. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not my problem unless you two come to blows. Don’t do that, by the way. Let me eat my lunch in fucking peace.”
Pretty Boy spoke up from a nearby table, waving a french fry in the air.
“In other words, fuck around and find out, Trooper. You’re on your own.”
I chuckled and took another step forward.
“Looks like no one is coming to save you, Teddy. Hand over my pie.”
Teddy snorted. “I can kick your ass any day of the week.”
Bruiser heaved a weary sigh. “For fuck’s sake.”
He snatched the container from Teddy and slid it down the bar to me. I caught it, victorious.
“Hey,” Teddy protested. “Traitor.”
He punched Bruiser’s shoulder. Bruiser didn’t even budge, immovable as a mountain.
I stowed Keely’s napkin in my cut pocket for safe keeping, away from Teddy’s prying eyes. Was I ready to give her a call? To venture into…whatever this was between us? The attraction was definitely there, mutual and reciprocated.
Scrubbing the back of my neck, I chastised myself for reading too much into it.
Maybe she was just looking for a hookup. A young, curvy waitress enamored with the tattooed bad boy who promised to give her a taste of forbidden fruit that she probably never had before.
On the other hand, that was a tempting thought—corrupting her curves a little bit. And if I had been in a better headspace, I might have jumped at the chance.
I wasn’t fucking blind. Keely had already turned my head. My palms itched to feel the softness of her hips dimpled beneath the press of my fingertips. And I would happily spend hours sucking those gorgeous heavy tits, biting and licking her nipples until she was a squirming, begging mess.
But in my current state, there was a very good chance that I would catch feelings too quickly. I couldn’t afford that right now.
After lunch was over, the club called their monthly meeting in Chapel—the big room in the back of the clubhouse where business was discussed in private.
Since Viper and I were Prospects, we weren’t allowed to attend.
So we cleared away the remnants of lunch, packing up any leftovers into the fridge in the kitchen.
And we waited.
Taking out Keely’s napkin, I studied her number, committing it to memory. The scent of her perfume was sweet and faint. I traced the outline of her lipstick print with my thumb. Thinking about the way she pursed her lips. Or sank her teeth into her lower lip.
They really did look like very kissable lips…
It doesn’t have to be anything serious, I reminded myself.
Just a phone call.
Maybe a date.
But I still hesitated.
Because I could feel the ache of want for Keely. And that unsettled me.
I had wanted a woman before. Wanted her so much that I was sick with it.
Was I ready to do that again? Even if Keely didn’t want me back for anything more than some temporary fun?
Before I could make a decision either way, the meeting came to an end and the Order filed out of Chapel. Hillbilly gestured at me.
“It’s time to make yourself useful besides running errands, Prospect.”
Finally. Thank God. I sat up straighter in my chair, waiting for my assignment.
“Ironside and Pretty Boy will be meeting one of my personal contacts on Saturday night,” Hillbilly went on.
“He doesn’t like phones. And he’s too damn skittish to visit the clubhouse.
So, we have to meet him on his terms or he ghosts and takes his info with him.
You’re riding along for moral support. Do not pull any lone wolf heroic bullshit to show off, got it? ”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
***
On Saturday night, I found myself shadowing Ironside and Pretty Boy to a rock concert that was so loud, I could barely hear myself think.
It was a genius cover. No one would look twice at tattooed bikers like us around here. We fit right in. And bumping into someone, striking up a conversation wouldn’t raise any suspicions, so passing along information should be a quick and easy process.
“What should I be looking for exactly?” I asked, scanning the crowd.
“The code word to identify him is Poughkeepsie,” Ironside replied. “We don’t know anything more than that.”
Ironside, Pretty Boy, and I had stationed ourselves toward the back of the venue—a local park where a temporary stage had been set up with strobe lights and a speaker system. The press of the crowd was thinner here, and we could move around, giving us the ability to make a hasty exit if need be.
One hour blended into two. At this rate, the concert would be over before we ever made contact with the informant.
Then someone cleared their throat. The three of us turned to see a young woman standing nearby, dressed in baggy jeans, combat boots, and an oversized jacket that swamped her figure. Her vibrant red hair was twisted up into a messy knot on the top of her head.
“I’ve heard Poughkeepsie is nice this time of year,” she said.
Ironside lifted his chin in acknowledgement.
“And I heard you have a message for us.”
I kept my mouth shut, watching the scene play out. Hillbilly distinctly said the informant was male. But chances were, that was a coverup for identity protection. Or this woman had been sent as a messenger.
“Are you boys familiar with the Filthy Rebels MC?” she asked.
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I kept my mouth shut. My purpose here was to observe, and provide backup for my brothers if they needed it. Nothing more.