Biker Babe in Black (17 page)

He ran out of the house and down the path to the lake. Business had taken longer than he thought it would, and Margarine had more than likely decided to visit the lake without him.

A scan of the shoreline came up empty. He spotted a fisherman farther down the beach and jogged over.

“Excuse me, but have you seen a woman about this tall…?” Remy held his hand up to his chest. “She has the wildest hair you ever saw and the face of an angel.”

The angler grinned. “You just described my dearly departed mother, but I do believe I saw the woman you want. She was here a while ago, walking along the water’s edge. She appeared deep in thought and passed right by me without a how-do-you-do.” The older man shook his head. “If I were you, I’d buy some flowers and have them ready for when she comes home, because whatever you did, your woman didn’t look very happy.”

Remy walked slower back to the house. Margarine not happy? Maybe the old man confused her with someone else. Margarine always smiled and made him believe life was one big party to celebrate every day—together.

Remy stepped into the house and listened. Nothing. He checked the bedroom again. The bed remained unmade. He scrutinized the room. Something didn’t sit right with him.

Nothing in the room belonged to Margarine.

He sat on the side of the bed, picked up the pillow, and crushed it to his chest. The sudden pain around his heart tightened and seemed to squeeze the life out of him.

“Margarine!”

Only the echo of her name answered him.

The door opened the second Margie stepped up to Reefer’s motel room. She lost her grip on the suitcase, and Reefer caught her and pulled her to his chest before her legs gave out. She’d made it.

Reefer carried her right into his room and planted her on his couch. She let him kiss her on the cheek and closed her eyes. The last thing she knew, Reefer covered her with a blanket.

Margie woke up to Reefer standing over the stove. She stretched her arms above her head and groaned. A day in a train seat had pushed her muscles to their limit.

She joined Reefer in the kitchen area and grabbed toast from the toaster. She kissed her best friend on the cheek and set out to butter the slice. The routine pleased her, and she smiled.

She’d spent many mornings in Reefer’s room, sharing breakfast and talking about all her dreams and wishes. He always listened and never judged her wild dreams—even if he didn’t always understand them.

She added the toast to the two plates piled with scrambled eggs. Her stomach growled. He’d even added olives to her eggs, just the way she preferred them.

“Your dad called.” Reefer handed her one of the plates and walked over to the couch.

“You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?” She shoveled a fork full of eggs into her mouth. She was starving. The sandwiches out of the vending machine on the train lacked taste, and with her stomach so upset lately, she needed real food.

She didn’t want to deal with everyone in the family yet. She needed a few days to work her way up to wrapping her brain around what had happened.

“You asked me not to.” Reefer frowned. “I don’t go back on my word.”

She sat beside him and squeezed his leg. She shouldn’t have asked that of him; she’d taken advantage of his personality of not being one to talk much. Without a doubt, not many people in the world remained so devoted and loyal to others the way Reefer lived.

“How long are you staying here?” she asked.

“Depends on you.” Reefer shrugged.

She nodded and found it hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. He always shoved his plans aside and helped his bad luck friend through her latest troubles without a thought to what he wanted to do in life.

“You know I love you.” Margie sniffed and swiped her arm over her eyes to clear the tears away.

He grabbed his heart and fluttered his eyelids. “I told ya years ago we had a good thing going.”

“You’re so full of it.” She laughed at his antics. “If you remember right, our one and only date ended with me laughing while you tried to kiss me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that time I made you eat that minnow we’d caught out of the creek.”

“True. It probably has something to do with running around naked as toddlers together too. We’ve scarred each other for life.” Reefer nodded.

Margarine finished eating everything on the plate, her stomach full. The fact she’d started again at step one with needing a job hit her. This time she didn’t even have her bike. That hurt.

“What am I suppose to do, Reef? I don’t have a job and I don’t have my bike.” She got up and took her paper plate to the trashcan in the kitchen.

“That’s an easy fix. It’ll only take me a couple hours to get your bike back. I’ll take Crowbar with me and be back before you know it.” Reefer wadded up his plate and tossed it to Margarine to throw away.

She did need her bike, and even if she didn’t want to ever pay a visit to Remy again, she wasn’t willing to lose her motorcycle over any man.
It’s better if I let the boys get it back for me and save me from a dramatic scene with Remy.
Later, she could plan where to go. This time far enough away that Remington Montgomery couldn’t hire a detective to find out where she’d gone.

“Okay. Just don’t get caught. I don’t want him finding out where I’ve gone. A clean break. I couldn’t handle it if I had to face him again.” She took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair.

“Are you sure you’re making the right decision? Last thing I heard from you, the two of you were happy. Is this one of your I’m-pissed-so-I’m-running-away moves?”

She shook her head.
Nope, he belongs with Gloria.

“Not this time. It’s the real deal. He…” She looked away.

“He what?” Reefer stepped closer. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Her emotions fragile, she dared not speak about what happened or she might begin bawling and never stop.

“Do I need to pay him a visit?” Reefer bent his knees to gaze straight into her eyes.

She managed a weak smile. The idea brought some appeal with it. For about ten seconds.
Okay, twenty seconds.

“Nah. I’ll survive. Just get my bike, and I’ll be out of your way in no time.” She’d light out of town and find another place to set down roots. This time better off with the money she’d saved from her job with Remy.

***

Remy had slept no more than two hours in the last four days. After he realized Margarine didn’t get kidnapped, but ran away and took all the clothes she’d brought to Tahoe with her, he spent every minute trying to track her down.

He came up with no reason as to why she’d left. She forgave him for how he’d acted the night at the opening, and they’d both looked forward to their time at Tahoe.

He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin; he’d been afraid to slip off to shower or shave and miss a phone call from Margarine. Her old bag she used for a suitcase sat in front of him on his desk. He hoped she might come back home for it, or at least her motorcycle. Moreover, the second she came back, he hoped could fix whatever troubled Margie enough to make her run away without even a goodbye.

A bang at the other end of the house jerked him to attention. Someone had entered his house.
Margie?
Afraid he might scare her off, he forced himself to sit back in his chair and pretended he worked on the papers scattered over his desk.

The clicking of high heels down the hallway got louder. With each step, Remy’s heart sped up faster and faster. He fought the desire to run to her and make her promise never to leave him again.

The person who appeared in the doorway wasn’t the person he wanted back in his house. He frowned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He ran his hands over his face.

Gloria pouted, marched her way into the office, and stood in front of his desk. He glared at her, too tired to deal with all the crap she brought with her each time she came around.

“I brought over the papers Father wanted you to sign.” Gloria removed the folder from her bag and waved it in front of him. “Why the bitchy mood?”

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” Remy didn’t take the folder from her. Until Margarine came back, he refused to work.

Gloria tossed the folder on the desk. “Your garage door was open, so I let myself in the back door. I figured you were about to leave so I didn’t want to miss you going around to the front door.” Gloria sat down in the chair opposite Remy.

“What do you mean my garage door is open? I haven’t gone anywhere.” The moment he spoke the words, he shot out of the chair. He ignored Gloria and ran down the hallway to the garage.

The spot where Margarine’s Harley sat earlier now lay bare.
What the hell?

“Fuck.” Remy punched the door. Pain shot up his wrist. He whirled around and hurried back to his office.

“Get out, Gloria.” He slammed himself into the chair and opened a drawer on the desk.

“What is wrong with you? Have you gone nuts?” Gloria stood to get out of the way.

Remy threw papers out of his desk and searched in all the drawers, not worried about destroying a proposal or bid on a project. Desperation set in, and he panicked.

“Remy, I need these papers signed today. Daddy needs them on his desk by four.”

He picked up a pen and scribbled his signature on each page wherever the pen landed. “Now get the hell out of my house.”

Gloria snatched the papers up, clutched them to her chest, and left.

Remy’s fingers moved over to the Blackberry he found in the top drawer. He called the best private investigation team money could buy.
I’ll find you, Margarine, and when I do, I’ll never let you go.

The pier at the waterfront in downtown Seattle bustled with people out shopping and enjoying the lively atmosphere only found in this area. Margie stopped to observe the way the fishmongers tossed a huge Chinook salmon to the clerk at the checkout counter. The customers standing in line clapped and cheered at the show.

This city had taken Margie by surprise the first few months after her arrival. It seemed she’d left her bad karma back in Portland and landed a job on her second day of job hunting. With luck on her side, she still remained employed.

Margie worked in the café on the ferryboat that transported people from Seattle across the sound to Bainbridge Island throughout the day. She loved the work. She got to meet people who used the ferry every day to commute to work, as well as visiting travelers who passed through on their way to new adventures.

She figured with her ability to conquer her fear of flying, she might try to defeat her fear of drowning and applied for the job. The challenges she faced brought contentment into her life, and she looked forward to the future—something she hadn’t thought possible without Remy.

The apples in the crate on the sidewalk in front of the farmer’s stand lured Margie into buying one. Lately, it seemed she ate constantly.

“Margie!”

Margie raised her hand to wave at the woman who rushed across the street.

“I parked in a ten minute parking spot, so we’ll have to hurry.” The woman motioned her to follow.

Margie took one more bite out of the apple, threw the core into the nearest trash, and followed Tamara Doyle to her car. Last week she’d called a real estate office to inquire about a house she saw for sale, and Tamara had offered to meet with her.

It only took ten minutes from the pier to drive to the house Margie wanted to check out. The minute the realtor pulled her minivan into the gravel driveway, Margie knew she’d arrived at her new home.

Her heart leapt at the sight of a white picket fence around the front yard. It didn’t matter that the grass needed mowing and the outside of the house needed a fresh coat of paint. It looked exactly like the picture Margie had seen in the real estate magazine.

“I think you’ll really like this house. It’s a fixer-upper, but you can’t beat the price.” Tamara turned off the ignition. “The owner is willing to hold a private contract, so your down payment shouldn’t be a problem.”

Margie stepped out of the car. She knew this house. She’d never been here in person, but she’d dreamed of this house her whole life.

The realtor ran a constant conversation describing obvious details of the house, but Margie lost herself in thought and knew whatever the realtor said would not make a bit of difference in her decision to buy.

Every night Margie had slept in motels, tents, and occasional house rentals, she’d dreamed of this very house—right down to the picket fence and the old Formica counters. She pressed a hand to her stomach and opened one of the three bedrooms. The colors might be different, but the floor plan she knew by heart.

“You’re just going to love the backyard.” Tamara unlocked the sliding door off the family room and walked outside.

Oh my god.

The backyard was set up to resemble a place of paradise for birds, with big flowering bushes strategically positioned throughout the yard and benches placed beside a path made of sand.

Margie’s gaze followed the path, and she caught a small picture of what lay beyond. An inlet from the Pacific Ocean teased her through the trees at the end of the yard. She reached out to balance herself, and the realtor grabbed her arm.

“Whoa there. Are you okay?” Tamara steadied Margie.

“I’m okay. The view of the water and the path reminded me of somewhere else.” Margie shook her head. For a moment, she’d remembered a different place.

The path resembled the walk to the lake in Tahoe. The desperate ache of losing Remy remained a fresh wound on her soul. His image popped into her head at the oddest moments, and she missed the life they might have had together.

“I hope it was a good memory and not a bad one.” Tamara dropped her hand and stepped a few feet back.

Margie nodded. She’d let Tamara decide her answer for herself. She’d given up months ago on explaining herself to others.