24. Honoria
Chapter Twenty-Four
Honoria
Mary introduced me to four women. The first, Sierra, was from West Virginia.
She had a thick accent and an abrupt manner.
Then, Olivia, who was quiet, sweet, and just a bit out of sync.
Hayley worked at the local library. And the last woman was referred to as “Digger’s ol’ Lady” but her real name was Marie Green.
She was a psychologist who worked with juveniles in the system.
I knew her even before she was introduced.
A small town, indeed. The fact that I knew at least two women here through work made me a little less guarded.
That was where I erred. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t been warned.
I couldn’t see Wombat in the crowd, and Walt had disappeared as well. Mary had trailed off playing hostess with Sierra. Olivia and Hayley slipped out of our conversation without notice. That left Marie, who I really didn’t have a lot in common with.
Especially when her biker husband showed up and whisked her into a corner for a very public make-out session that bordered on indecent.
No crime there.
I moved to the bar and noted the special license and alcohol assessment training certificates posted on the backboard.
Was it terrible that I noticed two were out of date?
A hand landed on the small of my back and drifted downward to grope my ass. My assaulter tugged me sideways before I could even catch the bartender’s eye. “Well, hell. I knew the Destroyers employed pretty girls, but you are a fucking knockout. How much do high-class hookers like you go for?”
Almost as abruptly as it happened, he was ripped away. Wombat had his shirt in his fist and the other hand in his hair—what little there was. “Hands off.”
The drunk held his arms out. “I was just asking.”
“She’s mine.”
“There ain’t no property vest, how was I supposed to know?”
I chimed in because I didn’t want him to skew what happened with a bullshit excuse, “You put hands on me without my permission, that’s assault. And considering how many lawyers I know, you won’t get a fair trial in this county.”
“You’re going to press charges? Here?” The man laughed.
Wombat glanced at me. “Honor?”
There was a warning in his question. “I want him to never do that again to anyone. However, I also want a billion dollars. I can be realistic and get both in a legal fashion, correct?”
Wombat grinned. “Did you hear that, Grease? That’s the new rule for you. Touch any woman without their permission, and I’ll personally insure that you’ll go down. What will that be, third strike?”
His hands fell helplessly to his sides. “I apologize. You know how it is, get a little in ya and it-it makes you do stupid shit.”
A Destroyer shoved through the crowd beginning to form. “Everything cool, ’Bat?”
I’d met this member as well. He’d accompanied Walt to the meeting. His name was Nickel, and he was the club treasurer.
I spoke up, “It’s settled.”
“No it ain’t.” Wombat’s contradiction overruled my statement. I tried to get his attention so this wouldn’t escalate.
“Random.”
Nickel’s gaze shot to me. “Honoria Ryder, Esquire. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Esquire?” The drunk asked.
“Yeah, as in lawyer. Our lawyer.” Wombat said. Then tacked on, “And she’s mine, and yes, in that way. Touch her again and you won’t see daylight.”
I hoped that was a threat of legal retribution and ignored any darker speculation.
“Now apologize to the club’s lawyer.” Nickel left out the other part. I didn’t know if I was grateful or not.
“Random?” I put my hand on his back to let him know he should put the man down.
Nickel quickly pushed my hand free, then raised a finger in warning. It was strategically placed between Wombat and me where it wouldn’t be seen. “Bat. Put him down.”
As he did, he brushed his hands off on his pants before wrapping an arm around me. As he maneuvered me, he deliberately pulled my hand up to his vest and held it against his heart. “My woman. Now apologize.”
“I’m really sorry, ma’am.”
“Apology accepted,” I said to defuse the situation. Part of me didn’t want to do that, but strangely, I knew that if I didn’t, that man would pay a far greater price than a few months in jail.
“Get lost,” Wombat said.
“Wait,” Nickel stopped him. “Don’t come back here, and don’t approach us again. You fucked up.”
It was spoken so quietly and gently, I almost didn’t hear the words. But everyone around us had gone so silent, even over the jukebox, they echoed.
The man nodded and walked away. Nickel dipped his head to the bartender, who peeled off to follow him.
Nickel stared into the mirror behind the bar intently.
I followed his gaze and could see the progress all the way to the door where the prospect grabbed the man by the shirt and helped him out the door.
I kept watching and waiting for the prospect to return, but he didn’t.
A new member shifted into his place at the bar.
This one I recognized as well. He’d helped Lemon out around the farm.
“Fly, nice to see you.”
He gave me the once-over like he always did. “How’s my favorite lawyer?”
“Knock it off, speck.” Wombat motioned for him to get a beer out of the cooler.
He set it down and leaned on the bar to ask me, “Seltzer?”
I was going to ask for wine. But after the fiasco with the ass-grabber, maybe I should stick to non-alcoholic beverages? Plus, Wombat said I’d drive home. “Yes, please.”
Nickel took his leave, and Fly put a bottle of premium sparkling water in front of me. “Sorry, don’t have any glasses. ‘Bottle okay?”
“It’s fine, thank you.”
What a breath of fresh air.
Wombat leaned in. “I gotta tell Walt what happened. Stay right here. Fly?”
“I got her.”
Wombat’s lips twisted into a frown, “Make sure everyone up and down the line knows she can’t be touched, got it?”
“I’ll spread word. Go.”
With a dip of the head, Wombat almost turned away, but then he crowded my space. “Let’s make this official, okay? I’m going to kiss you right here, in front of everyone. If you want to back out, say so now.”
A fission of fear shot from my throat to land between my legs. This was important to him. Likely it was important to my safety as well. They could have just pointed out that I was the club’s lawyer, like Nickel did. But this was more. Was I ready for that?
“Yes.”
The seriousness fell from Wombat’s face. He leaned in slowly. His lips brushed my cheek first, barely registering as a kiss. Then he paused at my mouth, giving me one more chance to say no. “Honor?”
“Yes.” I was sure. I wanted this.
I closed the distance between us and set my mouth to his. Like so many times before, it ignited a desire so strong I felt like my body would explode. It heated my bones it was so scorching. His mouth opened, and I plundered his mouth.
One kiss? No.
This was a meeting of the souls. If Lemon were here, she’d swear we glowed pink. And I could see that in my mind’s eye. A corona of flames engulfing us, turning red with lust. Lingering on our skin and caressing their way into an ember of…
Hope?
My stomach fluttered with nervous energy.
Wombat broke the kiss and pressed my hands to his chest. He placed each one on his vest, silently saying something of importance. I didn’t know what, but it felt like the world had shifted on its axis and was wobbling off into space.
It took work to meet his eyes.
When I did, I got a little lost in the age there. He was far from young and inexperienced. Those years lived in his gaze. I recognized that. I saw it every day in the mirror.
“Get a room.” Someone shoved past us to get to the bar.
“Respect the ol’ Lady, man,” Fly announced from the bar.
“Sorry. Didn’t see a vest. My bad. Apologies, ma’am.”
Wombat glared at him. “My tongue was in her mouth, idiot.”
“That don’t mean nothing. Your tongue’s been in a few mouths, Wombat.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Wombat fired back.
“Shutting up.” He sent me a dip of the head and moved farther down the bar.
“Is it always like this?” I asked the air.
Fly spoke up again. “It’ll stop when Wombat commissions your vest.”
All of the women I’d spoken with tonight wore black leather vests.
Each were embroidered with skulls matching the patches on the back of the men’s jacket.
Sometimes, those skulls were small patterns snaking around the edges.
Other times, like with Mary’s they were almost as large as the back patch itself.
The words embroidered around it were “Destroyers property, touch her and die.”
Even Olivia had that embroidered on hers. Marie’s was older. On the back it said, “Property of Digger.”
Hayley’s declared her “Property of Snake.”
There were a couple other women who had those vests.
“I’ll get right on that, dumbass,” Wombat fired at Fly, then he turned to me, “Stay right here. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He kissed me again and slipped away to find Walt.
Fly watched him leave and waited for the right moment when Wombat would be out of earshot.
“I hear the condom broke.”
I choked on the sip of water I’d taken. “What?”
His grin was crooked. “Did he go to CVS or are you two…” The words trailed off to fly directly into my chest like a blow.
My hands shook. I set the bottle onto the bar so I wouldn’t drop it and clutched them both at my waist where they could hide out of sight.
“Hey, it’s cool. If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t say a damn word.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
Everyone said that.
Every-fucking-one. What did they know? How could they?
“It’s just that, you touched the vest. The last person who did that got a broken hand. He must like you a lot.”
I glanced up, still mired in my anger. “What?”
“The vest. It’s sacred. No one but a patched brother, or their ol’ lady can touch it. But he put your hands on his name patch and the memorial patches on the other side. That’s against the rules. I figure he’s breaking them on purpose.”
“Oh?” When did my eloquence disappear? “I’m sure it was a momentary lapse.”