Saving Belle (A Category 5 Knights MC Romance Book 2) (3 page)

T
he bar is totally packed
when we pull up, and the Iron Tornadoes have their bikes parked out front pretty obviously. For of them are guarded by some well built guy with a babyface.

As Chaser and I walk up, he stands at attention. “Earplug. I'm an Iron Tornadoes prospect.” His handshake is firm and I get a good vibe straightaway from him, especially considering the way he looks me in the eye. I can't help but wonder how old he is. Twenty at most.

I introduce him to Peanut, figuring they'd get along just fine. Even with a name like Earplug, the man has to hold back a laugh when I introduce Peanut. His restraint—or, at least, his attempt at it—shows that he's respectful, or at least wise enough to know not to laugh in the face of the group you're meeting with. That, or he's intimidated by how huge Peanut is. Either way, it's fine.

Chaser, Dragon and I leave them to talk outside and make our way to the bar. Two of the guys we're meeting have already made their way to the table we'd chosen beforehand. Same table the cops were sitting at last week. Damn good choice. Perfect location for keeping an eye on the place without really having to worry about anything. Still, there were four bikes. The Iron Tornadoes seem to be missing a man, and sure enough, as I scan the crowd I spot him. He's set up on a high stool, leaning back against the bar. The colors are enough to tell me his affiliation, but when he catches my gaze and gives me a low nod, I know what's up.

He raises his glass and I raise a imaginary one in mutual understanding and respect—a silent toast.

When I finally make it to the table, I make sure to greet the two Tornadoes individually and shake their hands. Ice and Brains. Chaser and I take our seats, and Dragon (the requisite muscle for the night) stands like a sentinel behind us.

Brains looks up at him, obviously a little uncomfortable. “You ah, you sure you don't want your guy to take a chair, or..?” He's older than most of the guys in our crew. Fifties maybe, but he's fit. Old enough to have the experience to back up his nickname, I imagine.

Chaser shakes his head. “Nah. But he might be happier having a beer at the bar.”

Dragon takes the hint, and strolls off to sit at the bar, leaving us to our talk and meeting up with the Tornado at the bar.

“Thank you for agreeing to this meet.” Chaser gives a quick nod. “Appreciate that.”

“No problem. So far, the Knights and Tornadoes have always coexisted pretty peacefully. No reason for that to change, right?” Ice is calm and collected—no doubt where he picked up his moniker. I can't quite tell if he's being sarcastic or if he's straight up. The relations between our clubs have been weird to say the least, and strained wouldn't be unreasonable.

The local chapter of the Knights in this county had to shut down after a short run after Stallion, our last President, was killed. Prince, the Sergeant-at-Arms was messed up pretty good, too.

It took months to untangle everything and get the straight story. Turns out we'd been infiltrated by an undercover cop. Despite the huge mess it created, we came out pretty clean. The cop, calling himself Slider, was actually pretty fair with us. He turned a blind eye to the more questionable club activities, and only went after the conglomerate we were dealing with at the time.

Chaser hesitates for a moment before he answers, but he sounds sincere enough. “Right.” He keeps it ambiguous enough—terse, even. They stare at each other over the table, unshaking and seemingly unwilling to go on.

Brains is the one to break the silence, finally. “Are you guys going to talk, or do you want to head to the bathrooms for a dick waving contest while Piston and I have a serious goddamn discussion? Come on. Enough with the stoic act.”

Ice slowly turns to face him, and for a moment I can't tell what kind of reaction he'll have. Slowly, a smile spreads over his face, and the tension between the four of us seems to lift.

Happy to see the tension dissolving, I speak up. “Alright. So. The reason we asked you to meet us here is to let you know that our intentions aren't to butt in on your action or take your turf. We'll be doing our damnedest to stay out of Point Lookout.”

I look between Brains and Ice, trying to gauge their reactions as I tell them about our plans. Brains interrupts immediately the moment the word “drugs” comes out of my mouth.

“Woah, woah. What kind of drugs are we talking, here?” I can't tell if he's outraged and about to storm out or excited about the high stakes.

I shake my head to dismiss the worse of the two options. “Prescription drugs. Antibiotics, antidepressants, anxiety meds, bone loss. We don't really do pain killers.”

“Where the hell do you get them..?” Brains is a little overly curious for my taste, but I answer anyway.

“Mainly Europe through Canada. South America as well. We have a very, very reliable supplier.” That's all he's getting out of me. No reason to go spilling our trade secrets. We have other things to attend to, and it took me long enough to set up the smuggling network and figure out what consumer demand was that I'm not willing to share so easily.

“Victimless crime, then.” Ice leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.

Chaser shrugs. “I mean, I wouldn't go that far exactly. The pharmaceutical companies here are getting cut out, but fuck 'em. They're overcharging like crazy. They take the hit on profits, but the people get the medicine they need. The import laws are bullshit.”

Ice simply shrugs. “Fine by us. What else are you going to be bringing into the area?”

Chaser finally takes the lead—good thing, because I'm starting to get a little distracted. In my peripheral vision, I catch that beautiful blonde mane. As the floor clears a bit, I can see that she's flirting shamelessly with some drunk-ass redneck. Much as I'd like to keep my attention squarely where it belongs, I can't. He's getting
way
too close to Belle for my liking.

My hands curl into fists atop the table as I look over my shoulder, and Brains takes notice.

“Something wrong, Piston?” He taps the table when I don't respond.

Chaser waves off his concerns quickly. “Nah, it's nothing. Chick thing.”

Brains lets out a loud laugh, leaning over to pat my shoulder. “Best sort of trouble you can get into, kid. Ah, man. To be young again! I don't envy you, though. Not one bit.”

“
W
ell
? How'd the meeting go?” Dragon seems oddly excited to see me as I walk up to the bar.

“As well as can be expected. Little better, even.” I wave at the bartender to get the check for our table, keeping my back to the room for the moment.

“Hey, ah... where's Chaser?”

I shake my head. “Don't worry about that. He's gonna be a little while.” A quick motion over my shoulder to the dance floor where Chaser seems to be having the time of his life with Holly.

As soon as I get the check paid, I lean in toward Dragon. “Let Chaser know I went home, alright?”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah, no problem. Will do.”

I make my way to the exit as quickly as I can, keeping my eyes straight ahead and away from the dance floor. I can't understand why I'm getting so upset over some random chick. I feel like a damned fool. Pride thing, probably. I'm usually the one to take the French leave.

I oughta chalk it up to some sort of karmic revenge for all the girls I've dumped after the first night, but I can't. It almost feels like a personal slight against me. I hear the door open just after it clicks into place behind me, and before I can even turn around, I smell the sweet vanilla I was hoping to have my face buried in.

“Piston!” She lays a hand on my shoulder, breathless as if she'd run to catch up with me. “Are you going already?”

“Yeah, I'm on my way. Who wants to know?”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. She shakes her head, curls bouncing around her face. I find myself enraptured by the halo around her head, lit from the back in neon. What is it about this chick that gets me feeling all nostalgic and poetic like?

“What do you mean?
I
did.” She seems almost angry, as if there could be any other answer. “Holly told me that you guys were coming tonight and I kinda thought...”

I'm still expressionless and she finally notices when she brings her eyes up from the ground. Her shoulders slump in defeat, and she shakes her head. “Nevermind what I thought. Goodnight.”

Just as she turns to make her way back into the bar, I catch her by the arm and pull her back toward me. Lip lifted, I snarl. “No fucking way. Tell me what you thought.”

Her gaze meets mine, unblinking. She opens her mouth, hesitating. It opens and closes several times as if she's looking for the words, but not a sound escapes.

I scoff, and can't stop myself. I know how I get when I'm pissed off, but I can't help it.

“Oh, don't tell me honey, I know your kind.” I put on my best impression of her sweet southern drawl. “'
Oh, good, that sucker's gon' be around tonight. Let's see how much I can tease him and run off before he loses it!'
Something like that?”

She stutters for a moment before practically yelling up at me. “I... I'm
not
a tease!” Tch. Whatever. For a second I'm almost tempted to believe her, and that pisses me off a whole lot more than it should.

“No, no. Of course you're not.” I whisper softly as I pull her back against me in the alley, just a few steps from the door. In one quick motion, I spin and press her back to the wall. “You sure about that?”

She nods slightly, and her lips part as I bend down toward her. I hover just over her lips, hesitating. What the hell is wrong with me? I've been wanting this since I saw her across the room. Before I have a chance to make up my mind one way or the other, she slides her hands through my hair and leans up to kiss me passionately. I let her take the advantage, and I'm immediately glad I did. She's pressed up against me tight when I finally begin kissing her back properly, pinning her hard against the wall.

I
need
her. One hand slips down to cup her ass, the other squeezing one of those soft breasts through her shirt, grinding against her hard. She moans softly, her hips beginning to rock slowly against mine. Only once she's caught up in the moment do I pull back, leaving her woozy and shaken.

I step back, determined to regain the upper hand in this tit-for-tat. “Well, sweetheart... if you ain't a tease, I ain't one either.”

She frowns hard, obviously not understanding. The last thing I see as I turn to walk back to the bar is the incredulous expression on her face. Strangely enough, it doesn't make me feel any better. Fuck.

I thought revenge would do it, but what I really wanted was to reconcile. Little too late for that. I gotta get back to the compound ASAP and find myself a sweet piece of ass to forget about that chick once and for all.

I make my way to my bike muttering to myself, trying to justify it. She was probably going to do the same to me anyway, I just happened to beat her to the punch.

Peanut is standing next to my bike, staring off into space. Some days I wonder if he doesn’t sleep with his eyes open, because nothing seems to rouse him from those spells. Well, almost nothing.

Only once I lean up to get directly in his line of sight does he notice me. “Oh! Aha, hey, Piston. Are we done? Can we go home now?” He sounds like a tired kid, trying his best not to whine about wanting to leave.

“Yeah, we're all done buddy. Chaser and Dragon will be out in a sec.”

He grins widely and nods. “Great! Are we gonna be seeing the Tornadoes again?” I shrug, and he goes on. “I like Earplug. He was a cool guy. He didn't make fun of me or anything. Also, he was real impressed I knew all about engines and stuff.”

Peanut may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, and he's pretty hopeless socially speaking, but he's got an almost unreal photographic memory and diagnostic talent for engines of every kind. Maybe some kind of savant—either way, it makes him one of the best damn mechanics we've ever had.

“Well, he
should
be impressed!” I start my bike and he does the same, smiling broadly. That big goofy smile warms hy heart. I'm a sucker for a drowning puppy, and Peanut's my best rescue yet.

“
I
hope you're happy
.” The words are flung at me like daggers from Holly's mouth before I can even think. If I knew she was gonna be here, I'd have skipped breakfast completely and stayed in bed.

I look up from my coffee, frowning hard. I hit the bottle a little too hard at the clubhouse last night, and it's way too early in the morning to have a little dramatic scene.

Hell, it's always too early for this kind of scene.

She looks like she's about to pop. “What did you do to her?”

Well, at least I have options now. I could lie my ass off and pretend I've got not idea what she's talking about, but that'd just be delaying the inevitable. I
could
try to deflect and move the conversation somewhere more agreeable, but she's way too pissed off for that. I decide to go for the straight up approach.

“What, to Belle? Me? I kissed her goodnight. That's it.”

Holly shakes her head slowly, glaring at me. “No, no. There's something more to it than that.”

I shrug and lean back in my chair, hoping to piss her off enough that she'll beat it, but she just leans over onto the table, her fingers tapping quickly.

After a long, tense wait, she speaks again. “Come
on
! What the hell did you tell her? Belle is a force of nature, and you messed her up some kind of bad. After you took off, she was crying her heart out, saying she wasn't worth a damn.”

My gaze returns to my coffee, the image immediately taking hold in my mind. It's a terrible sight, one I can barely stand to even think about, especially considering the way Holly's piling all the guilt on me. I need something to stop the pounding in my head, and the lashing she's giving me really isn't making things any better.

She snaps her fingers, and like some obedient dog, I look right up at her before forcing my eyes back down to the cup.

Holly groans in irritation and continues. “It had to be bad. She's always all bouncy and happy and optimistic, Sundays aside.” She looks down for a moment as if she's trying to remember. “Yeah, Sundays. When she comes home, she's so depressed. It breaks my heart, but it's nothing like yesterday. She was...” Holly doesn't finish her sentence, but straightens up to cross her arms. “Listen, Piston. You're the one who
apparently
broke her, so
you
need to fix her. If you don't, I'm gonnna...”

Chaser steps in and interrupts her. “Hey, hey. Come on, honey. It's pretty plain he isn't gonna listen to you.”

She shakes her head quickly. “He's playing dumb, but it ain't gonna work with me.” For once, Chaser's the voice of reason, his tone commanding and firm but still soothing. Holly still won't just let it go.

Her gaze returns to me, and I cast my eyes down again. “I know he can hear me just fine. He's playing dumb, but it won't work with me.”

Something about the confidence behind those words almost makes them come to fruition, and I find my traitorous eyes darting up to meet hers. I do everything in my power to keep the words trapped in my chest, but I have to know.

“What happens on Sundays?”

Holly brings a hand up to her mouth, covering a smile. She knows she's got me on the hook now, and so do I. She pulls a chair up quickly and sits in front of me, immediately launching into the story. The way she gushes, it feels like she's been absolutely dying to tell someone—to share her concern about her friend with another soul instead of carrying it on her own.

“Well...” She takes a deep breath. “See, on Sundays, she gets up real early and just drives off. I'm pretty sure she heads up to Point Lookout, because I heard her offer one of the other girls a lift into the town. I'm thinking... maybe she's visiting parents or something? She always dresses like she's going to church.”

I raise a brow in somewhat suspicious confusion. “Like she's..?”

“Going to church. You know, proper! Buttons up her shirt all the way, wears a long skirt, conservative shoes, all that.”

I take a sip of my now-cold coffee. Blech. I bring a hand up to my mouth to keep myself from spitting it out, forcing it down before pushing the cup away from me.

Holly waits for me to put the mug in its place before she goes on. “I was thinking, y'know, maybe she has a parent in a nursing home or something and she spends her Sundays up there. It'd make sense, and it'd damn sure be enough to make her sad. What do you think?”

I know she's looking for me to engage properly, so I go along. “Sure. Yeah, it would.” The sound of my own voice makes me wince, a gravelly mess resonating inside my already-throbbing head. I curse myself for testing my mettle against my arch-nemesis Vodka yet again. He wins every time, but I never seem to stop trying.

“I've asked her, you know.”

I'm not surprised in the slightest. For all the interrogating I'm getting, I'm sure Belle has it twice as bad. Holly's sounding like the fucking Inquisition right now.

“It's like a religion for her. She's never missed a single Sunday. You remember last August, when we had that horrible storm come through? Flooded the town and everything. She
still
found a way to get out there, despite the roads being closed. Knew a guy with a jacked up truck who was apparently more than happy to take her up.”

“I... see.” My voice is hardly above a whisper, but Holly apparently can't take a hint. She keeps on speaking, full volume, spilling everything.

“It's
so
important that she usually never goes out on Saturday nights. She made an exception for the MC party because she really, really likes you.”

The light switches on in my head. The bulb may be dim, but it damn well switched on. Maybe she wasn't being a tease when she left. Ugh, my head hurts too much to think about all this right now.

I mumble out something about needing an aspirin or something stronger to ease the pounding before I lurch to my feet, shambling quickly out of the room, holding the side of my head. I can't listen to another word of Holly's tirade about what a bastard I am for breaking her friend's heart, as if I knew. She doesn't understand how totally absurd she's being. For fuck's sake, I've only seen the woman three times. I'm not so irresistible that
one
little tease is enough to break anyone's heart.