Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (15 page)

"Can't hurt for her to trust more than one Hell Hound,
can it?"

"Bark gave me this assignment, and if you hadn't heard,
she doesn't know anything." I fight to keep my expression relaxed.

"She has quite a body on her, doesn't she?" Fish
murmurs, admiring Jo as we walk toward her. "The kind that could make a
man get his priorities wrong. I don't fucking trust you, brother."

I stop and turn to him before we get close enough for her to
hear us. I need to limit her exposure to him. One of his little throat tics
could be all that's needed to give him away.

"Well, thanks for your help,
brother
," I
say, squaring my shoulders. "See you back at the clubhouse."

"Come on, that's it? I haven't even officially met
her." He claps me on the shoulder and keeps walking toward her. I want to
tackle him to the ground but that might look just a bit suspicious.

Jo glances between us as we walk up to her. "So you
guys know each other? That's a weird coincidence."

"Isn't it?" Fish says jovially. "Name's Fish."
He extends his hand and I try to look relaxed.

"Jo," she says, returning his handshake.

"I can't believe you never told her about me,
Holt!" Fish says, affecting a light tone.

"Guess it never came up," I reply, clapping him a
little too hard on the back as I pray his throat tic stays gone. Usually, as
long as he's calm, it doesn't appear.

"So you're the new girlfriend. We were all wondering
why we hadn't seen Holt much around the clubhouse. You coming to the party this
weekend?"

"Sorry, what? Clubhouse?" Jo asks, frowning.

"Yeah, the Hell Hounds are having a big party this
weekend." He pretends to be surprised by her blank expression. "Oh,
sorry, thought you knew. Guess I really stepped in it, here. Um, well…I better
take off. You sure you're OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jo murmurs.

"Good. Well, Holt, see you at church," he says
with a wave, and walks over to his bike at the other end of the parking lot. I
relax a little as he leaves even though I know I'm about to catch some major
shit from Jo. We stand in silence until the sound of his engine disappears.

"The Hell Hounds," Jo says flatly.

"It's the name of my motorcycle club, my MC," I
explain.

"And you have a clubhouse?"

"Yeah, in Hunterdon."

"But you also go to church together? It's a religious
thing?"

I have to stifle a little smile. "No, church is just
what we call our mandatory meetings. Not religious. It's more about
business."

"So it's a big thing for you, then? Why didn't you tell
me about it?" Her voice is calm, but her expression is waffling between anger
and hurt.

"Some of the things we do…it's not legal."

"Huh."

"We have our own code we operate by…the guys in the
club, they're my brothers. Family." I sigh, and turn around. "Pull up
the back of my shirt."

"What?"

"You'll see." I feel her take the bottom hem of my
t-shirt and begin to pull it up tentatively. There's a pause, and then she
pulls it up farther, to my shoulder blades, and runs her other hand over my
skin.

"Thought you had a weird birthmark, or something,"
she whispers, almost to herself. I turn back around as she drops my shirt.

"I was about to tell you," I say, studying her
face. She's staring at the ground, closed off, not making eye contact.
"It's not the kind of thing I can say right away."

"I guess I knew there was something…" she murmurs.
I reach for her shoulder and she pulls back. My heart sinks in my chest.

"Jo, the way I feel about you—"

"But you keep hiding things from me, don't you?"
she says fiercely, her eyes snapping up to mine. "Every time I think we're
clear, it turns out there's something else. You know everything about me,
things I've never told anyone else." Her voice breaks and a tear slides
down her cheek.

"Me, too. You are…we have a connection. I know you feel
it."

She pauses for what seems like an eternity. "I need some
time. I'll call you," she says, her eyes dropping again. She unlocks her
car and gets behind the wheel.

"Jo…" I murmur.

She shakes her head and starts the car, pulling away without
looking back at me. I stand with my arms hanging limply at my sides. I've never
felt so powerless.

Chapter Seventeen

Jo

I smile at Elise as her eyes flicker over to me. I think she
undersold Grant a little. Sure, he might be a little buttoned-up for me, but he
seems like a solid guy, and very into her.

"So Elise tells me you're starting a new job?" he
asks, winding his fork into his plate of spaghetti. We're eating together at a
little Italian bistro so that we could meet, and of course because Elise wanted
to get my opinion of her new man.

"Um, yeah," I say, unsure of how to describe my
current predicament. Just found out my boyfriend is in some kind of motorcycle
club, and the new job is with him. "I quit my job at Billy's this
weekend." And was quite surprised to find two weeks' worth of pay,
including approximately what I would have made in tips, in my mailbox this
morning.

"Good," Elise says, taking a sip of her red wine.
"That was the kind of place that will suck your soul right out—Plus her
manager was a pervert," she adds to Grant.

"That's certainly true," I reply. I was surprised
when Carl followed me out after my shift. I always thought of him as more of a
harmless creep, but then he tried to grope me. Thank god that Fish guy was
there, though his timing did seem…odd. As did Holt's reaction to him.

"So, Grant, what do you do?"

"I'm an accountant for the police department," he
replies, and Elise smiles proudly.

"That sounds interesting…" I lie, sensing an
opportunity.

"Definitely. I mean, probably not to most people, but I
like working for a government agency. I feel like I'm, you know, contributing
something, at least."

I play with the fettuccine on my plate as I try to choose my
words. "What kind of cases do the police usually get around here? I was
reading this article recently about, um, motorcycle clubs, I think they were
called. Are those a problem?" Maybe he can give me some insight while I
try to wrap my brain around what I'm dealing with.

"I've heard some about those, but obviously I'm not on
the front lines or anything. There was some upswing in violence some months
ago, but I think that died down."

"Have you heard of this one called the Hell
Hounds?" I ask innocently, remembering the massive tattoo on Holt's back.

"Oh, yeah. That's based nearby. Traffic marijuana,
ecstasy, mostly. I find the whole thing fascinating actually. I've heard that
we, and I mean that loosely, could do more to take them down, but it really
comes down to the benefit of knowing your enemy. See, people will always find a
way to get their drugs, and if they get taken down, something worse could take
their place. Sort of a cost-benefit analysis. Unless, of course, a club, or a
gang or whatever, starts involving innocent people and escalating the violence.
As long as they keep it contained, though, they're not likely to attract a lot
of attention."

"Right," I murmur.

"Doesn't Holt ride a motorcycle?" Elise asks me.

"Yup, a Harley," I reply, and quickly change the
subject.

After dinner, we say our goodbyes on the sidewalk outside.
"Grant, I'm just gonna walk Jo to her car, OK?" Elise says.

"OK, nice to meet you, Jo."

"You too, Grant," I say with a smile and a wave as
Elise takes my arm.

"You alright?" she murmurs as we walk down the
sidewalk, crossing in and out of circles of light from the streetlights
overhead.

"Yeah, Holt and I just had a little argument, that's
all," I say, not wanting to tell her the whole spiel until I can wrap my
head around it myself.

"So what do you think of Grant?"

"He seems really nice. What do
you
think of
him?"

"He's great. I just…with Holt, how much do you guys
talk?"

"Oh god, I don't know. I kind of lose track of
time."

"With Grant, I have a good time when we're together,
and I know this is going to sound horrible, but I don't really miss him, you
know, when I don't see him."

"Uh-huh," I murmur, thinking of how I'm aching to
see Holt after less than forty-eight hours apart.

"OK, I know, it's not optimal, or anything, but maybe
that stuff will happen eventually."

"Maybe," I say turning to give her a hug as we
reach my car. "You deserve all that stuff, so I hope it does."

"Thanks." She begins to walk back toward Grant.
"I'll call you tomorrow!"

"OK!" I call back, and hop in my car.

That night, I'm unable to sleep. I can't get Holt out of my
head. The way I feel with him…it's what I've always wanted with other men and
never experienced before. Not even when Steve and I first met. But this whole
motorcycle club thing…Well, it's not just the fact that he's in one, it's that
again
,
he didn't tell me upfront about it. Though I do understand that's not the kind
of information you'd drop on a first date. I guess I just don't understand what
it entails.

It occurs to me that there's one person who could help me
sort through my feelings about this. The realization helps calm my nerves a
bit, and before long, I drift off to sleep.

I drum my fingers on the armrest as I wait for the phone
call. Finally, my cell lights up with an incoming call from a number I don't
know. I pick up nervously.

"An inmate from the Federal Correctional Institute
Marianna is trying to reach you," the recording says. "Would you like
to accept…"

I quickly press "3" to accept the call. I remember
how it works. I put the phone back to my ear. There's static and a brief pause.

"Jo?"

"Hey, Mom," I say. It's been a long time since
I've heard her voice.

"I got your message. Everything OK?"

"Not really," I admit. Tears begin to pool in my
eyes. What is it about talking to your mom, even when she's calling you from
prison? "I met a guy."

I hear her laugh softly. "Fuck if it doesn’t always
come down to a man."

"He's in a motorcycle club," I begin.

"Oh, an MC," she says. "Interesting. I guess
I can see it…"

"You can?"

"Sure. You were always a wild child."

"You mean when I was eight?" I ask, raising my
eyebrows. That was the last time she actually raised me.

"Yes," she says a little defensively. "Trust
me, you can tell everything you need to know about a person by the time they're
that age. And you, you were a wild child. That Steve guy was never right for
you."

"You never met him," I point out.

"My mom told me," she says.

"Really? Grammy never said that to me," I reply
with a frown.

"Well, probably because you were marrying him. So who's
this new guy?"

"His name's Holt."

"Holt. That's fucking sexy."

"Jesus, Mom…"

"Well, it is. So what's the problem?"

"This whole MC thing…I don't know anything about it.
They're illegal, right?"

"Well, some of the stuff they do sure is. It attracts
people who don't fit in, who want to go by a more basic set of rules. Blood for
blood, is their expression. Men who want to live by their strength and wits.
Women who like hard men."

"Mmm."

"So this Holt guy, you really like him?"

"Yeah."

"Love him?"

"It's only been a few weeks," I reply evasively.

"So you love him," she surmises. She always was
direct. "And the problem is?"

"I mean, I don't want…I just don't want…" I trail
off.

"To turn out like your mother?" she interjects,
finishing my train of thought.

"Do
you
want me to turn out like you?" I
counter. "In and out of jail?"