Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(69)

"Just got ‘er couple days ago. Took a look under the hood and told the  guy the tranny was fucked, gave ‘im 700 for it. But I'll let ya in on a  little secret; tranny's fine. Whole damn thing is fine. You'll get  another hundred thou out of her, that's for damn sure," Frankie said,  shutting off the engine and stepping out of the car. Reign and Frankie  convened at the front of the car as Frankie popped the hood; while the  men inspected the engine, murmuring and pointing and nodding, I ran a  finger along the side of the car.

I realized, rather suddenly, that I hadn't owned my own car in  –  well,  not since before college. I'd sold my high school car to help pay  tuition, and the car that I'd been driving had been a "gift" from  Jeremy: meaning, it wasn't really mine, and he'd sometimes threaten to  take it away if I did something he didn't like.

And now that "gift" was going to take up permanent residence in this old  man's used car lot, amidst the ever-twirling dust, baking under the  sun, slowly decomposing until it was as shitty and worthless as that  first car I'd been offered.

Good riddance.

I smiled.

Things were starting to feel more and more real to me  –  like it was  finally, finally setting in. I had a new life. A brand new life. A  better life  –  a life of clear blue water and sandy beaches and all the  nachos I could eat and margaritas by the barrel and sexy swimsuits and  learning to tango and a brand new vintage Ford Mustang and a sexy new  lover …

That last thought ended the train with a crash: I don't want a sexy new  lover, was the next thought, far more dismal than the ones that had come  before. I looked over and could see just the top of Reign's  raven-haired head over the popped hood; I wanted him to be my lover.

But I'd just met him …

I shouldn't feel that way …

I mean, it made sense. I was smart enough to know exactly why I was  feeling that way; I was on the rebound, in a lot of ways. And he was  there, and he was sexy, and he wanted me … and from the looks he sometimes  gave me, the way his eyes would stare into mine as though I was water  and he was dying of thirst, he wanted me for more than just a tumble in  the hay.

But I shouldn't give in to those feelings. They were false. If I gave  into them, stayed with him somehow, brought him with me to Mexico, I'd  wind up unhappy, because this wasn't real love; it was just lust, with a  hint of hope for something more. I was love-starved, desperate. I  wanted to love him because I thought he'd be able to love me right.

But that didn't feel right, either. It was what I knew had to be true:  it was the only thing that made sense. People don't just fall into  fairytale love stories in Utah. Especially not a girl like me, and not  with a guy like him. We were from two different worlds, two different  universes. Three days was not enough to say you loved a guy.

But …

But …

Doesn't it fucking feel like you were meant to meet?

It sure fucking did.





20





Honey looked and looked, but she couldn't find that fucking guy  anywhere. Not in the bar, not loitering around the motel, not in the  grocer's or the gas station. She told everyone she saw that if they  caught sight of a stranger, tall and dark and anonymous, they should  waste no time letting her know.

Her word carried a lot of weight around Ditcher's Valley, and she knew  that if anyone saw anything, she'd know in a few minutes. No one asked  any questions, either. Club business was club business, and club  business was the only thing keeping the crappy little town from being  swallowed into the earth.

She paced around her little room, air conditioner blasting to keep away  the noontime heat, and ruminated on what she'd remembered that morning.  She'd ushered Georgia, the girl she'd woken up next to, out the door  with a flood of excuses and promises to call. Promises she wasn't really  sure she'd keep, promises she didn't really care if she kept or not.  That girl wasn't important in the long run; Honey might be fond of her,  but more pressing matters needed attention.

Who was that man? What did he want with Reign's new girl? What did he  want with the club? He didn't look like a member of any of the other  clubs in the area; he didn't have the air of a member. Of course, he  could just be a good imposter, but she had the nagging feeling he was a  hired hand. And she had learned that her nagging feelings were pretty  accurate.         

     



 

Maybe it's just her hubby looking for his wifey, she thought hopefully.  But that didn't exactly mean that they were out of the woods; Reign  could still be in deep shit, and if Reign was in deep shit, the whole  operation was in deep shit.

Truthfully, Reign had been acting like president ever since Charcoal had  hit his 60th birthday and begun to slow down. Charcoal wasn't even in  town; he was in Cancun with his old lady, celebrating their thirty year  anniversary with a month-long vacation. Reign had been the go-to man  while the club's president was away. What was that adage? "Cut off the  head of the snake … "

Honey considered making some tea, or at least a sandwich, to settle her  turning stomach and calm her nerves. As though the hangover she was  fighting wasn't enough to deal with …

A sudden knock on the door inspired first surprise, then a jolt of fear.  She pushed the emotions away, knowing she was just getting ahead of  herself, and looked through the peephole. Endo was standing in the hall;  she opened the door for him, stepping aside to let him through.

"Jesus Christ it's hot today," he said, spreading his arms out wide as  though to absorb more of the cool air inside the apartment.

"What the hell are you doing out of the kitchen? It ain't both our days  off," Honey said, shutting the door behind him with a glance in both  directions, making sure no one was lurking in the hallway. She hated  feeling this nervous and jumpy; it reminded her all too much of how  she'd felt when she'd first left her husband, afraid at every little  sound.

"I'm on break. Can't a guy take a break to check in on his favorite gal?  And ask what the hell she's been doing telling people to call her about  a mysterious stranger?"

Honey scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest.

"C'mon, give up the goods, little darlin'. You see a stranger you fancy in the bar?"

"Far from it," Honey said, debating whether or not to fill Endo in on  all the details. He was trustworthy, of course, and she didn't have much  to tell him, anyway. Her boys trusted her instinct; he'd believe her if  she said she just knew something was up. But if she told Endo, it might  get around, and the last thing she wanted was a bar full of violent men  looking for someone to beat the shit out of.

She'd learned that lesson once before, when she'd told someone she  thought that a kid from out of town was spying on the club. The kid  she'd been talking about had, in fact, been spying on the club; but a  different kid had gotten what the spy had been due. Some of her boys, on  the lookout for a "strange young guy", had seen someone fitting that  rather vague description and unloaded their worst on the poor innocent  kid, while the actual spy had already skipped town. She still hadn't  forgiven herself for that.

But if she swore Endo to secrecy …

But, of course, there were no secrets in the club. At least, not those  sort of secrets. The upper echelons had their secrets, of course, and  members always had some side-girl or hobby that they didn't share with  their brothers (Honey knew, for example, that Road Rash loved painting  watercolor landscapes, and hadn't told a soul), but anything that  involved the club would get circulated pretty quickly. Even Endo, who  Honey loved more than almost any of her other boys, was prone to  drunkenly spilling the beans.

But she felt so shitty, she didn't care, she just needed to get it off  her chest. Her pounding headache wasn't helping her think logically,  either. She told him the whole story, what little of it there was, and  waited for a response. Endo scratched his beard thoughtfully.

"Yeah, yeah, ok, I think I know the guy you're talking about. I thought  he was just a man on the run from his wife and kids or job or some drug  fiend or something. But if you think something more's going on, I bet it  is. The question now is … what do we do? I sure hate to think that little  girl's gonna get dragged back to wherever she came from," he finally  said.

"Who cares about her?" Honey demanded, immediately realizing that, as  much as it surprised her, she did. She would feel awful if Reign's  little girlfriend got hurt or killed by her cop ex-husband. Not so awful  that she wouldn't get over it, but pretty bad all the same. The girl  was so jumpy, but seemed sweet, had a real genuine smile … it was hard to  not feel a little empathy for a girl like that. And Honey had her own  reasons for caring whether or not the girl made it to Mexico and safety.  Endo shot Honey a knowing look and she threw her hands up and nodded.