Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel (9 page)

My tired mind, numbed from too many miles behind the wheel, spun at her explanation.

“We put you in rooms 101 and 102,” she said, running two plastic cards through a reader.  “That means you are close to the office which is manned twenty-four/seven, the laundry room and the vending/ice machines.  A great set up if you ask me.  Do you need help with your bags?  We don’t normally offer that but Bishop said we needed to make you feel like family.  And family helps out, right?”

I swallowed and blinked at the same time, searching for some form of English to respond with although I came up short by only nodding.

“Okay, then.  I’ll call Hector to come and help.  I put out a plethora of to-go menus on your vanity in case you and your boy didn’t want to go out to have dinner,” Ally announced as she handed me the keycards and a quarter inch stack of paperwork.  “If you want anything, any old thing at all, you just dial ‘zero’ and I’ll answer.  Gosh, it’s great to see you again, Dory!”

“Ah.  Yeah.  Uhm, you too, Ally,” I managed, still in a dither at all she’d said.  Or at how the Hellions were paying for me and J.R.’s stay.  A fact that made me uncomfortable on so many different levels.

I turned away, my eyes seeking and then finding my magnetic north in the skinny form of my child who was then standing outside the car door, his gaze taking in the scenes of the buildings across the street.  Of what used to be ‘Bud’s Suds’ and ‘Breakfast by Becky’ but which were now a Starbucks and a Pizza Warehouse, it’s huge ‘We Deliver’ sign winking in its window.

Pushing back through the glass door, I schooled my features into neutral and waved the cards his direction, watching as he stepped towards me.  And I was proud at the way he moved, the way he slowly smiled as he made his way to where I stood, knowing each and every action was being notated and would be passed along the internal, verbal grapevine that wove throughout Missoula.  “You’ve got your own room,” I stated, trying to hide my grin but failing miserably.  “Don’t abuse the privilege.”

“Seriously?”  His gaze shot from mine to the cards I held.  “No, ma’am.  I won’t!”

And at seeing his happy mood, I envisioned a completely different ending to our visit than the dark images I’d entertained on our ride north.

Of a happier ending than the one I’d secretly been expecting.

One that maybe would find answers for us both.

*.*.*.*.*

It had been a busy day, but at least pain-wise on the whole it had only held a three.

The Hellion Construction manager meeting, even including the Billings branch which was still trying to find its feet, had been good. 

Well, it had until Trey had brought up the issue of Bishop’s vacation request.

“I need for Bishop, Huff and Dare to stay,” the president had stated on the echoing thump of his gavel on the conference table.  As Dice and Snake exited, Trey’s eyes had moved to Bishop, taking on a fervent gleam even before the door had thudded closed.  “I need you to change your time-off sheet, brother.”

“Why?”  To Bishop’s mind, he’d done everything that was required in the company handbook.  A booklet that he himself had written.

“Because if you’re checking yourself into the hospital then you need to claim it as…”

“I’m not checking into no hospital,” Bishop sputtered, casting his eyes first to the blonde Huff and then to Dare’s deep, dark disbelieving gaze.  “It’s just a motherfucking vacay, dig?”

“A vacay during our busiest time?  Get serious, shithead,” Huff groused, crossing his thick arms over his huge chest.  The man was serious when it came to lifting weights.  “You know we’ve got to fucking go balls-to-the-wall before the first snow.”

Dare’s verbal response was more along the lines Bishop was used to.  “Who the fuck is she?”

But as Bishop opened his mouth to counter Dare’s tease, he found himself hitting the truthful end of it all.  “Dory.  Dory is in town and I want to spend time with her.”

“Say fuckin’ what?” Trey breathed, his brown eyes deepening in color with amazement.

“You’re fuckin’ joking, right?” Dare yelped, his large shoulders hitting the chair’s back as he straightened upright.

“Nope.  Ain’t joking, dig?  My Dory is in Missoula.” 

“Who or what is a Dory?” Huff asked, his eyes moving between the three men although it sought Bishop’s the most often.

“His ex-wife,” Dare threw out, casting his gaze briefly to the side where Huff was situated before sliding back to his braided-hair brother.  “What the fuck’s she doin’ back?”

“Bishop was married?” Huff’s voice was only a soft call into the bowels of the large room.

“She’s not
back
, dude,” Bishop explained, only giving Huff a glance while answering Dare.  “Just taking time off to settle some shit.  She still has ties here, you know.”

“What fucking
ties
, Bish?” Trey’s brows were drawn down and so tightly knitted together they created a shadow, eliminating any real view of his eyes. “’Cause from what I remember, you were her only family but she fucked that up by leaving and then divorcing your ass, yeah?”

Huff’s chair creaked as he swiveled towards Dare.  “An ex-wife?  I don’t have any intel on any ex of Bishop’s.  Why don’t I have any info on a wife Bishop may or may not have had?”

Trey intercepted the question.  “Because its ancient history.”  He turned back to Bishop.  “Or it was.  What is it, amigo?  Ancient or something you’re fuckin’ working to rekindle?”

But Bishop couldn’t meet his president’s, his best friend and the pal of his youth, eyes.  “Don’t know and couldn’t tell you, Trey.”

“This is all sorts of fucked up, dude,” Dare muttered with a head shake, one of the negatory variety.

Trey echoed the head shake, leaving Huff to try and make sense of it all.  “So Bishop, our Bish, was married before and his ex-wife is in town?”

“Yep,” Bishop breathed, training his eyes to the hands he remanded to lay still on the tabletop.  Trying to rein in their sweating, though, required skills that he just didn’t have.

“And he wants a fuckin’ vacay, some time off, in order to spend time with her,” Dare continued, with disbelief riding front and center in his voice.  “Shit, dude.  Still carrying the goddamn torch or some such?”

Bishop swallowed deeply before allowing his eyes to connect with his Hellion brother.  Were there words he could say that could tell the other men of his deep connection with the girl he’d married so young?  He didn’t know, didn’t have anything to convey the hope he’d secreted away in his heart.  “She’s back.  We’ve talked about spending time together.  That’s all I can say.”

“Which is more than fucking enough, shithead,” Huff sighed.  “Fucking been there.  Done that.”  Holding up the hand that bore his wedding ring, he waggled it, allowing the silver circle to catch on the light.  “You damn-well call a woman to you, means only one thing, fucker.”

“And that is?”  Bishop already knew the answer.  Had known it from the first voicemail he’d left for his former wife.

“That you need to tap that sweet pink again, bro’.” Dare’s voice was quiet, his eyes sympathetic.  “That what you had was so good, so fuckin’ sweet, you’d give a body part just to have it again.”

There were more than a few measures where nothing was said.

It was Huff that broke it.  Who put into words all the yearning that Bishop’s heart held.

“Not just to tap, brother,” the blonde giant mumbled his voice deeper than any Harley exhaust pipe.  “But to fucking cherish, to hold as close as you can, for as long as you can.”  Huff’s iced blue eyes dropped and Bishop could swear the other man was looking deep within himself.  “Because once you recognize her pussy and heart is for you, ain’t no fucking other that will do.”

“Fucking A,” Bishop breathed in agreement, surprised at Huff’s eloquence.

“Motherfuckin’ agreed,” Dare offered quietly with a nod.

“And I concur,” Trey added.  “Vacay approved, Bish.”

“Thanks, man.”

Shrugging, Trey lifted himself from the chair at the end of the table.  “Who the fuck am I to stand in the way of true love?”

“Shit!  Who the hell said anything about motherfucking love for Christ’s sake?”

Dare, who had already hit the door turned back to look over his shoulder.  “You did, asshole.  Maybe not with your words so much as with your expression.  And take it from me, brother.  True love never fucking quits or goes away.”

Huff stood next to Dare but also twisted around to spear Bishop with a sharp look.  “It sure the fuck doesn’t.  Fucking stop sitting with your thumb up your ass and get to your girl, ass wipe.”

“Have I told you lately how very much I hate you fuckers?”  Bishop’s question was offered on a laugh, one that had been sadly missing in the weeks prior.  At the three’s head shake, he continued.  “So consider yourselves told, shit-for-brains.”

“Did he just fuckin’ disparage my mental capabilities?” Dare asked Huff as they piled out of the door of the large conference room.

“Absolutely!  But why he felt the need to fucking include me with you dipshits is something I just can’t work out,” Huff pronounced, his voice getting fainter as the two walked back to their offices.

Turning his eyes back to Trey who was standing behind his conference room chair, Bishop queried, “is it gonna be a problem?  Me reconnecting with Dory?”

Trey went quiet, going still as if he was thinking both deep and hard.  “I’m guessing you think this is a loose end, the thing with Dory, yeah?”

Bishop nodded and let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.  “I want, I mean I need to tell her good-bye, buddy.  And I want to fucking do it face-to-face before…”

Trey closed his eyes and swallowed deep before he responded.  “Nah, it ain’t gonna be a problem.  Surprising?  Yeah.  As in ‘hell yeah’.  But a fucking problem?”  Trey shrugged his large shoulders.  “Uh-uh.  Not unless it fucks you up even more than you already are.”

“I’m not fucked up,” Bishop countered indignantly.

“Tell that to the judge, amigo, ‘cause I just ain’t feeling it.”

Chapter Eight

“Holy sh…erm, moly!  Check it out, Mom!” J.R.’s voice bounced off his window and throughout the SUV.   After putting my car into park, I glanced to see what he was so amazed by, but it was only a motorcycle parked in the space closest to hotel reception.

“Damn,” he breathed, his head still turned away as he stared, oblivious to my request for him to watch his language.  “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?  A 1961 Harley Sportster in freaking primo condition.  Check out that pin-striping.  I think that’s still the original engine too!” My boy turned his wide eyes to me.  “Have you ever seen anything so amazing?”

I shrugged as I unlatched my seatbelt and opened my door.  “Missoula has a couple of motorcycle clubs so I’m sure you’ll get to see a lot of them while we’re here.”

“Seriously?”  J.R.’s voice had gone back into the squeaky range before he began to get out of the car.  “Do you know any guys that ride?  Do you think they’d take me out on one?”

I’d spent years trying to dissuade my kid from his fervent interest in bikes but had never succeeded. He’d even started collecting the small die-cast replicas of Harley Davidson motorcycles, painstakingly explaining what made each one so important, so special.  And at some point, I’d just given up the fight, blaming his interest on some weird genetic predisposition he’d inherited from Stan.

Even though it was just after nine, the sky was just then getting dark and the lights from inside the office seemed bright.  I glanced through the windows and saw Ally was laughing with a tall man who was leaning his elbows on the counter.  There was something about him that was familiar but that was bound to be the case.  I’d had the same sense of déjà vu when we’d eaten dinner at the Black Bear Diner and then taken a window shopping stroll through old downtown.  Things in Missoula were slow to change and I had spent most of my life there, so things and people were bound to seem familiar.

But there was something about the man talking with Ally that had my eyes going to him again and again, trying to attach a name to the body but failing.  Maybe it was because of the Hellion vest he wore, the same patch adorning the back as what Stan used to wear that made me wonder if I knew him.  But when I caught sight of the braid that hung down his back, almost all the way to his belt, I knew I was mistaken.  No one I knew had hair that long.

Going to the door of my room, I pulled the keycard out of my purse, watching as J.R. went to his own door.  “Aren’t you coming in?”

“Sure, but I want to do this myself,” he explained, copying my movements.  “I’ll be gaming if you need me.”

“Only for a couple of hours, buddy, and then you need to shut it down.”

“Aw, Mom,” J.R. groused from his open doorway.  “We’re on vacation, right?  And I think vacations were meant to be enjoyed.”

I sighed deeply, reaching in to turn on the lights in the room while keeping my body outside.  “We have a lot of stuff to accomplish on this vacation so you still need to get up at a reasonable time which, I might add, is before eight.  Not the noon you seem to consider the crack of dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” my kid mumbled on a defeated note before closing his door.

But I barely heard his response because I’d glanced once again towards the office and the sight that met my eyes had turned me to stone while causing my heart to go into overdrive.  The long, lanky man with the long braid was now turned towards me, his eyes meeting mine through the glass.

I would’ve known that face anywhere, recognized those eyes even in the darkest of nights. 

Stan.

My ex-husband, the father of my son and who I was beginning to suspect had been the love of my life stood staring at me from a distance of less than forty feet after thirteen years.  I didn’t move a muscle, couldn’t even blink as the past came up and smacked me in my solar plexus.

I wasn’t able to tear my eyes away from his, only idling noticing as he opened the heavy glass door and moved slowly towards me, his long legs eating up the distance between us one long stride at a time.  And as he got closer, my mind began to catalog the differences between the boy I remembered and the man that was front and center in my view, making his way to me.