Chapter Seventeen #2
Addison dropped her face into her hand. Lying had never come easy for her. Not because she was saintly. Because I suck at acting.
“Addison?”
Shit!
“So, unfortunately, I have to cut my trip short.”
“What?”
“Yeah, it’s uh” —she clamped her lips, shaking her head— “Emergency back home.”
“Oh my God, is your family okay?”
Fuck! As if she hadn’t already felt horrible, Cleo’s compassion was compounding her guilt.
“Yeah, everyone’s fine. But I’m needed back home.”
“Oh. Okay.” While she was being understanding, Cleo’s disappointment was evident.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Of course, Cleo would offer. I don’t deserve this friendship.
“No, I’m just checking flights now and packing up.”
“I can help with that. Do you want me to come over?”
Seeing Cleo in person was out of the question.
She’d never pull off the lie, and she couldn’t tell her the truth.
Addison trusted her, but in the end Cleo was very much part of Killcreek.
Her loyalty to them was stronger than hers to Addison.
This was her mistake. And I don’t want to put her in a position to make her choose.
“Actually, I just need to get it all done.”
“Okay,” Cleo muttered.
“But I was thinking maybe you could come see me in Iowa in a few months.” After she had the tattoo covered, and it was fully healed.
“Really? I’d love that.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. I gotta go but” —her eyes welled— “I’m so happy I finally got to meet you, Cleo.”
I wish we’d had more time.
“Me too.”
“Bye.” Addison clicked the end button as a tear escaped, rolling down her cheek.
That was harder than she thought. And in the end, it might be her last conversation with Cleo. Considering how protective Wraith and the club were over her, Addison had her doubts they’d allow her to visit.
There was one more call she had to make. She scrolled through her contacts, tapping on his name and brought the phone to her ear. He picked up after the second ring.
“Yeah?”
“Hey Danny, It’s Addison.”
“Well, this is perfect timing. Got word from my guy. Should be rolling into town tomorrow by three.”
She’d be long gone.
“Great, um, but there’s been a slight change in plans.”
His heavy sigh was followed by silence.
“Still there?” She asked.
“Pulled some strings to make this happen, Addy. Please don’t tell me you changed your mind.”
After her conversation with Cross, Addison had reached out to Danny and made arrangements for Knox’s bike to be shipped to her. Technically, the rebuild wasn’t finished which left Knox’s list incomplete. But I think Knox would’ve wanted it this way.
“Oh no, I still want it delivered, but I need to change the address. It’s in Killcreek, which is right off the highway, so it’ll actually be quicker.”
“That I can do.”
Addison gave him the address to the clubhouse. She wasn’t sure how deliveries worked for the club, but she’d worry about that later.
“Got it. Anything else?”
She nibbled on the corner of her nail.
“Yeah, just one. Can I add a name to the delivery.”
“Who’s it for?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Cross.”
It may not have been Knox’s bike, but had he lived, it would’ve been. This would give Cross something of his, a little piece to remember him.
****
Cross stretched his arms over his head with his towel wrapped around his waist. He’d taken an extra-long shower.
His back was still aching from the long ride.
They’d initially planned on doing it in three days but cut it down to two.
It was his call, which came with some taunting from Gent with Addison being the reason why he wanted to get back sooner.
It was true, but he admitted nothing. The last thing Cross wanted was to give his psychotic brother any ammunition against him. Or Addison.
He got dressed and walked down the hallway.
A few brothers were gathered at the table.
They had no club business or meetings for the next few days, and he planned on spending his time with Addison.
Of course he’d have to share with Cleo. He walked over to the shelf and grabbed his keys when Joker walked in.
“Got a delivery.”
“From who?” Cross asked.
“Delivery guy didn’t say.” Joker seemed off. A combination of confused and concerned.
“Bring it up.” Wraith snapped.
“Well” —Joker grasped the back of his neck, glancing at the door— “That’s the thing. It’s on a trailer. You want me to let the guy haul it up?”
Cross furrowed his brows. “What the hell is it?”
All their attention turned to Cleo. When she lived at the clubhouse, the majority of deliveries were addressed to her.
Cleo shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything I order goes straight to my house. And I’m not expecting anything.”
Ace stood, walking through the room. “This sounds like a fucking ambush.”
Yeah, it does.
“You bring it in but only halfway up the driveway. Not gonna blow up our fucking clubhouse.”
Joker gave a curt nod. “Should I let him drive it in?”
“No, motherfucker.”
He widened his eyes and spread out his arms. “But it’s attached to his truck.”
“Then take the fucking truck,” Ace snapped.
Cross and the others walked out. He heard Wraith give Cleo a clear warning to stay inside. They made their way down the driveway as the prospect was pulling up with the truck. The trailer was just big enough to hold its contents, which was covered in a tarp.
Joker jumped out of the driver’s side and hopped up on the trailer, slowly pulling off the covering. Every muscle in his body tightened when he saw the bike. It was old and obviously restored. He’d seen a few on the road but mostly from pictures Knox had shared with him.
A sharp gasp from behind caught all their attention. It was no surprise Cleo didn’t listen to Wraith’s order. She was standing a few feet behind them with her eyes trained on the motorcycle.
“What the hell is this?” Wraith asked, but it took her a minute to answer. She was completely mesmerized with the bike. Her eyes welled slightly, and a small smile emerged. She slowly lifted her hand, pointing to the trailer.
“That’s a” —her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, smiling— “That’s a sixty-nine BMW bike, isn’t it?”
Yes, it is. Knox must’ve shared with Cleo too. Cross turned back to the trailer. Cue had moved closer, leaning over the railing, inspecting.
“Yeah.”
Cross had never been into antique bikes. He loved his and could do most repairs, but rebuilding an old classic was never his thing. But it was Knox’s. In fact, this was the exact bike he’d talked about for years.
“It’s Knox’s bike,” she said.
“Where’d you find this, Cleo?” Cue asked.
“I didn’t,” she whispered.
While most of the brothers moved toward the trailer, Cross walked toward Cleo with Ace sidled up next to him. Joker jogged up the driveway and handed Cross a small slip of paper.
“It’s for you, man.”
He unfolded it.
To Cross…from Addison.
He read it twice then glanced up at the bike. Cross was confused and couldn’t quite wrap his head around her giving him a bike, let alone Knox’s dream motorcycle.
“It’s a gift.” Cleo smiled as her eyes welled.
“From who?” Ace asked.
“Addison,” Cleo blurted.
Cross held up the note. “You knew about this?”
“No.” She smiled, sniffling and wiping away her tears. “I told you she asked about Knox in our letters, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, um, the more she asked, the more I talked. At one point about nine months ago, she asked about things Knox always wanted to do but never got the chance. Like a bucket list, I guess.” Cleo shrugged, peeking around Ace and staring at the bike.
“She never said why she wanted it. And I never asked. But now I know.”
Knox had always been into different styles and older models of bikes. He loved working on them and could talk for hours about the ones he wanted to rebuild. There’d been a few mentioned, but this one had always been his favorite. Holy fuck!
“She bought Knox’s bike?” Ace asked.
Cleo shook her head. “I didn’t say he wanted to buy it. I said he wanted to rebuild it.”
Gent laughed, pointing at the trailer. “There’s no fucking way she rebuilt this.”
Cue straightened, sliding his hand over the base. “Original parts.”
Oak snorted. “She must’ve spent a shit ton of money on it.”
Cue shook his head. “Most of these parts are from older bikes. If I had to guess, she got a lot of it from refurbished dealers and hit every salvage yard she could find.”
What?
“You’re telling me” —Ace cocked his brow, gesturing to the trailer— “You think she rebuilt that?”
Cue shrugged. “Someone did, and just by looking they didn’t do the best job. Definitely an amateur with little experience.” Cue glanced up, veering his gaze to Cross. “But someone tried.”
“Wait, hold the fuck up,” Oak said. “You’re telling me Addison rebuilt this bike because it was on some list?”
Cleo knitted her brows. “Not some list. Knox’s.”
Ace shifted his gaze to Cross. “You know about this?”
No one was more surprised than him. Addison hadn’t mentioned anything about the bike. And this was the first he was hearing about a list.
“No.” Cross glanced over at Cleo. “What else was on the list?”
“A bunch of things.”
“Like what?”
She smiled. “Skydiving.”
The corner of his mouth hiked. Cross never steered away from a dangerous situation or undertaking, but he did his best to not voluntarily put himself in one. Knox was different, a real thrill-seeker.
“And that big biker rally in South Dakota. The concert he had tickets for right before he died. Rebuilding the bike. This wasn’t really on his list, but he promised me he’d try sushi, so I added that.
Spending more time with his family. The club and me.
” She ducked her head. “That was at the top of the list.”
“Anything else?” Cross asked.
“Getting the club patch tattooed on his back.”
Cross stilled, sharing a look with Ace. Their insignia was a protected piece of them. Only members could wear it. It was forbidden for any outsider. They used a select few artists to tattoo the members. Knox had been saving up because he wanted it on his entire back.
“She ever get the tat?” Ace asked. His tone was calm, but Cross read through it.
Cross had seen every inch of her body. It was a clean slate. He would’ve seen the tattoo.
Cleo shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know about the bike. I’d kind of forgotten about the list once I gave it to her because she never brought it up again.”
“Bring her in, Cross.”
Fuck!
Cross held up his hand. “Ace, do I have to state the obvious? I know for a fact she doesn’t have the tattoo. She doesn’t have any.”
Ace arched his brow. “Bring her in anyway.”
“What?” Cleo seemed surprised by the order and followed after Ace as he walked toward the clubhouse.
“Relax, Cleo. I’m gonna bring her in so we can all talk.” Cross was keeping his tone even for Cleo’s sake. They’d get all this sorted out. “She’s not working, right?”
Cleo widened her eyes, and her mouth fell open.
He furrowed his brows. “Cleo?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Cross snapped.
She darted her gaze between him and Wraith, rocking back on her heels nervously. “She left.”
“What do you mean she left? Where’d she go?”
“She went home, Cross. Why wouldn’t she tell you?”
What the fuck?