Biker Babe in Black (12 page)

“Do you have any idea where your dad is?” Sunflower stood and folded a mound of clean clothes.

“Dad didn’t come home?” Margie’s forehead wrinkled. She tossed the last bite of donut in the trashcan by the bed. Did Remy call the police on her family after she’d left?

“Mom, I think you’d better call the police department and see if Dad and the rest of them are locked up.”

Margie still wore her leather clothes from last night, and slipped on the boots her mom must have taken off her feet after she’d fallen asleep. “I’ll go see what I can find out.” Margie grabbed her helmet off the floor.

“Do you want one of your brothers to ride with you?”

The concern in her mom’s voice stopped Margie at the door. She shook her head. “It’s better that I handle this alone.”

She didn’t go back to Remy’s house. Her dad would either be in jail, or long gone to escape charges. Plus, she hoped to never see Remy again. Embarrassment, along with the love she still carried in her heart, made her break out in a sweat just thinking about running into Remy in her search to find her dad. No, she’d find her dad by herself. She didn’t need one of her brothers witnessing her fall apart.

If her dad landed in jail last night, Margie decided she’d go back to the family, pool everyone’s money together, and hope they came up with enough to bail everyone out of the slammer.

There was an unwritten code in the Chromes and Wheels bylaws that stated everyone helped one another—but she might leave them locked up to serve their time. In fact, the more she thought about it, the madder she became. Someone needed to teach them to ask her permission before they punched on people she tried to impress. Really, what gave everyone the right to run roughshod over her life?

Twenty minutes later, she spotted the missing family members’ motorcycles lined up in single file along the curb in front of Betsy’s Truck Stop. She let the anger she held back surface now that she knew they were safe and having breakfast.

She parked at the end of the long row of bikes and took off her helmet. Her family had ruined her life, and with no worries about her, sat and dined together.
Jerks.

A sudden onslaught of moisture blurred her vision. She ground the heels of her hands over her eyes and tried to rein in the tears. She took a few deep breaths to check her emotions.

They all have to be taught a lesson so this never happens again.

She shoved her motorcycle helmet back on with enough force to rip the chinstrap. With each step she took toward the door of the restaurant, she grew her angrier and angrier.
They’re going down.

She marched into the truck stop and found the group of them. They laughed it up around one of the big tables in the back of the diner. Not one of them wallowed in guilt. She stalked over to the table, her hands clenched into fists.

Bulldog, the first to spot her, stood with his arms open to welcome her back to the flock. Margie sailed into his arms, leaned her head back and, using her helmet, head-butted him so hard he fell back across the table.

Margie aimed her helmet-heavy head toward the next nearest body. Crowbar jumped up to escape the glass of orange juice Bulldog spilled. Margie’s helmet clipped Crowbar’s eyebrow, and the skin split wide open.
God, I feel good!

Crowbar grabbed the napkins off the table and, ignoring the spilled juice, slapped the papers against his forehead to staunch the flow of blood running down his face.

She pulled off her helmet and stared down the group of men who hung their heads in shame. Her hands shook, and she clutched her helmet to her chest, afraid to let go in case she collapsed onto the floor in a broken heap.

“That’s right! You should be ashamed. Because of you, I don’t have a job. I can’t afford my own home, and I don’t have the man I love.” Her chin quivered.

“Now, Margarine Butter, you know—”

Margie glared at her dad, cutting his lecture short.

“I don’t want to be lectured. I tried, Daddy. I mean, I really, really tried to make it out there on my own. I got job after job and never gave up, just like you taught me.” Margie’s eyes stung from unshed tears. “I didn’t go out in the real world looking for love, but I found it. For just a few short weeks, I thought I knew what it felt like to be loved for who I am.” She moved the helmet and thumped her chest with her fist. “In one night, I realized who I am, and maybe I don’t deserve a life living in a grand house. Maybe I belong with you all… Maybe I’m not meant to have the life I’ve dreamed about all these years.”

Margie’s whole body sagged, and she grabbed her dad’s shoulder to keep on her feet. The truth hurt. “Oh, Daddy, I wanted so much to love him…to be loved by him.”

Remy walked out of the restroom and spotted Margarine instantly. His heart sped up, and he split his cracked lip again. The smile came too fast to stop.

She kicked some serious ass. At least two other people sported injuries, and going by the expression on her face, it looked like she could still cause serious damage if someone crossed her path. He stayed far enough back not to draw her attention. Lord knows his body still ached from the fight last night.

Margie removed her helmet, and Remy stepped closer. He wanted to hear what she said to the others. He walked over and stood right behind her, overjoyed she mourned the loss of him, but it served no point. No way in hell would he ever let her go.

Margie slumped beside her father, and Remy wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You belong with me, and I’d never give up on our love. Never.”

Margie stiffened and ran her hands along his arms. He kissed the side of her neck, proud of the way she stood up to her family and rallied for him.

“You belong with me, Margarine Butter, and this time I’m not letting you ride away from me,” Remy whispered in her ear. He supported her the instant her legs gave up the fight. “How would you like to go home with me and help clean house?” He raised one arm and bumped fists with Knuckles. “Seems there was a huge party last night and things got a little messy. I need a housekeeper in the worst way.”

Margie turned in his arms, planted her hands on each side of his swollen, bruised face, and kissed him. Remy moaned in pain but continued right on kissing the woman who had stolen his heart when she bumped into him the very first day they’d met.

Every single member of Margie’s family in attendance cheered and pounded the table—Except Crowbar, who sat in his chair, still nursing the head wound.

Remy let Margie go long enough to say her goodbyes. He stood beside her dad, who threw his arm around Remy’s shoulder. Both of them grinned in a show of friendship. He never would have thought that Margie’s dad would have sat down and talked man-to-man after Knuckles beat the hell out of him, but they’d worked through the misunderstanding.

“Sorry, Crowbar.” Margie gave the big guy a hug.

“No problem, MB.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead. For such a large man, he certainly possessed a sensitive nature.

“Sorry about your eyebrow, Bulldog.” Margie kissed him on the cheek. “You might want to get that stitched up.”

Margie turned to her dad and hugged him. Her eyes welled up with tears. Her big protector, it seemed. Always there for her, in good times and bad.

“I love you, Dad.”

Knuckles squeezed Margie to his round belly. “Right back at ya, Margarine.”

Looking around the table, Margie raised her hand, brought it to her lips, and sent a loud smacking kiss to each one of them. She faced Remy and ran her finger over the cut on his lower lip. “Let me take you home and do something about that face.” She slipped her arm around his hips and headed for the door. “About the mess you left…”

The following week, Remy headed to work, and Margie returned to her job as housekeeper at the Montgomery house. She’d explained to Remy how important it was for her to remain employed and save money. Margie had enjoyed the previous four fun-filled days of lounging around the house. She’d pampered Remy and helped him heal his injuries.

She figured if he showed up at board meetings covered in bruises and cuts, it would reflect badly on his company. Although, the sight of her lover a little rough around the edges got her hot and bothered something fierce.

Last night, Margie’s family rode up to Remy’s house to say their goodbyes. They headed to southern Oregon, but promised to return next month. This time around, she and Remy would welcome them with open arms.

After Remy and her dad beat the snot out of each other the night of the party, it seemed they’d come to a compromise. Daddy promised not to touch Remy if he kept his little girl happy. So far, Remy had kept her very happy, and she knew he was enjoying his end of the bargain.

The doorbell rang, and Margie hurried to start the dryer. She peeked out the window. Abigail Turner stood on the step.

Margie smiled and opened the door, happy to see the one person who’d befriended and stood by her side during the brawl last week. “Abigail! Come in, please.”

“Remy told me you were home, so I thought I’d come over and see for myself.” Abigail gave Margie a hug.

She led Abigail into the kitchen. “I’m so glad you did. I wanted to thank you for the night of the party. Your comforting hand meant the world to me.” She motioned to the chairs at the table for Abigail to take a seat. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’d love some, thanks.” Abigail’s eyes sparkled, and a grin erupted. “That was the most excitement Mr. Turner and I have had since Remy grew up and stopped spending the summers with us.” She laughed.

Margie set the teapot on the stove and turned the burner on. “I’m afraid that everyone else has written me off as bad news for Remy.”

“They’ll get over it. What matters is you two are back together.”

Margie studied Abigail. Her friend really was happy for her and Remy. “You don’t know how good that is to hear. I need someone in my corner for when the next party comes around and I don’t get invited.” Margie snickered, but in her heart, she meant every word.

“I could tell from the moment we met that you’d be the one person who had Remy falling in love…finally.” Abigail picked out a rose from the bouquet in the middle of the table and held it to her nose. “Something in Remy’s eyes gave away his feelings for you. Even my husband noticed and remarked about it.”

“I do love him.” Margie removed the teapot from the stove and filled two mugs with hot water.

She handed a mug to Abigail and offered her an assortment of tea bags. Margie picked a green tea for herself. “To be honest, this is the first time I’ve served tea to anyone.”

Abigail patted her hand. “You’re doing fine. You don’t have to pretend to be anyone around me.”

Margie blew across the top of her mug. She quite liked visiting over tea.

“I’m afraid, though, that you’d better keep your eyes open when it comes to Gloria.” Abigail thumped the table with her index finger. “That girl has gotten meaner and more vindictive since she spent time in Europe.”

“She knows that it’s over between her and Remy. Remy has moved on, and told her so the night of the party.” Margie sipped her tea. “I was there when he told her off.”

Abigail shook her head and smirked. “That’s never stopped her before. She’s spoiled rotten and used to getting her way.”

Over their second cup of tea, Abigail filled Margie in on what happened at the party after she’d left. She grinned over how animated Abigail grew regaling the events. The old girl enjoyed every minute of her story telling.

“You should have seen your Remy.” Abigail leaned back in her chair and fanned her face with her hand. “He finally had your dad slammed up against the wall with his arm at his throat.” Abigail lowered her voice and repeated what Remy had said. “’Call off your men, and we’ll settle this like gentlemen.’ Gentlemen. Can you believe that?” Abigail wagged her head, and her body jiggled. “Then he declared his love for you, and the next thing I knew, your big old dad had Remy in a bear hug, acting like they were best friends.”

Margie believed the whole thing. In spite of how her dad looked and acted, everyone who knew him recognized his teddy bear of a heart—especially when it came to his daughter.

Margie waved goodbye to Abigail at the same time a car pulled into the driveway. She jumped up and down and hurried to the garage. Even with Abigail’s visit to entertain her, she’d missed Remy something crazy today.

She tried to contain her happiness, but the second his car door opened, she squealed. “Guess what?”

Remy handed his briefcase to Margie and retrieved a bouquet of red roses from the car. “Abigail came to see you.”

Margie slapped his arm and laughed. “I guess you saw her on your way in. We had a wonderful visit. I really like her.”

She skipped along to keep up with Remy, who marched ahead of her into the house.

“Hey, who are the roses from?”

Remy entered the kitchen and set the flowers on the table. Margie tried to peer around his shoulder, but he teased her and moved the vase every time she tried to glance around him.

“Is there a card on them?”

Remy slipped off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He wiggled his eyebrows at Margie.

“Remy, tell me about the flowers.”

He shook his head and mimed that his lips remained sealed.

“Please, Remy.” She stuck out her bottom lip.
He’s up to something.

He walked away from her, turned into the bathroom, and twisted on the tap for the tub.

Margie frowned. “Are you taking a bath?”

He ignored her, kicked off his shoes, and threw them into the bedroom. He removed a towel from the closet and laid it over the warming rack.

“Come on, Remy. You’re acting weird.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the bathroom counter. “Did you get fired?”

His shoulders shook, and he rushed out of the room. She tapped her foot and waited to see if he planned to come back in the bathroom. She didn’t have to wait long.

“So…you’re giving me the silent treatment.” She stood right beside him.