Strays (Red Kings #1) (18 page)

Taking notice of her gaze, Tyler looked at her, his smile broadening even more if possible. His large hand engulfed her much smaller one on top of the table. He squeezed it and leaned into her, speaking quietly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Her smile was genuine, as was her happiness. “Everything’s perfect.”

The quick exchange didn’t go unnoticed by the queen. Bianca had been a bit reluctant to accept the girl, but she had her reasons to be suspicious. The club always came first, and with a new prospect, one that they didn’t yet know, everyone had to be careful. She had to make sure that the boy had his head on straight, his heart intact, and balls big enough for the other guys to count on him. A girl, especially one as pretty as Jackie, could ruin a man. She had seen it before, and she didn’t want any trouble within her club. The guys seemed to like the young woman though. Bianca was sure she was going to fit right in. Smiling to herself, the queen reached for the bread. Her boys were going to be just fine.

“So, Jackie.” Looking up, Jackie turned her attention to Lana. “What is it that you do?”

The entire dinner went that way, full of friendly banter and light conversation. When she got to her apartment later that night, Jackie was exhausted, but content. She decided that she definitely liked Lakeside. Yes, it was small and different, but she had made some friends that night. Things weren’t so bad anymore.

23

June 13
th

Jackie pulled into the parking lot of Vic's Auto Repair and Salvage Yard, painfully reminded of all the times she’d been to the Eastside Mechanics garage back in Macon. The two were very similar, from the garage to the clubhouse, not to mention all of the motorcycles that were parked there, but this one had rows and rows of old cars behind it. She hadn’t spent that much time in Lakeside, but she really missed Macon. Not the city itself, but the people. She missed all of the bikers, Elaine and Beth. Their loss almost made her regret her decision to leave.

Almost
.

Shaking her head, Jackie got out of her truck and headed toward the garage where the bikers were working.

“Hey, Jackie. What’s up?” Finn was wiping his hands on a rag, his lips twisted in a smile. Jagger and Vic were standing in front of a beat up Ford, looking at her as she entered.

“Hey guys,” she greeted them with a smile of her own. “Is Benz here? I was supposed to pick him up…” Trailing off, she watched as the biker in question exited the garage's office.

“Right here.” Benz walked over to join the group. “You ready, dear?”

“Where are you kids off to?” Jagger asked, eying the pair suspiciously.

“I’m taking Jackie to a gallery in Jacksonville to see if we can find a place for her to sell her art.”

“I gave you the day off so you can go to an art gallery?” Vic asked, shaking his head.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Finn received a few dubious looks for his interference. “What? She’s good. She did the paint job for Dean's bike.”

“Well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?” the charter president asked with a smirk.

“You’ll do something for my bike too, right sweetheart?” Jagger grinned down at her, his eyes gleaming.

“I'd be happy to.”

“Okay then. It’s time for us to go!” Benz grabbed Jackie's shoulders and steered her towards the truck, Vic following behind them.

“Hey, Benz.” Vic motioned for Benz to hang back, taking a few steps away from Jackie.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful in Jacksonville, okay? Those Saints assholes aren't gonna be too happy with you in their territory,” he said, referring to the Dead Saints motorcycle club that resided in that area. He paused for a second and glanced at where Jackie was laughing with the rest of the guys. “You never know what’s going to happen.”

“Right.” Benz nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ll be careful.” He caught Jackie’s hand, leading her towards the truck. “I’ll take those if you don’t mind.” He snatched the keys from her other hand and got in the driver's seat, starting the vehicle.

The drive to Jacksonville was fun, mainly due to the fact that Benz kept making Jackie laugh. She found out he was great at telling stories and jokes, especially when they were about his fellow bikers’ antics. His favorite subject to talk about was the prospecting members and their more than questionable actions. He didn’t speak about his time in the army, but he was quite open about other aspects of his life. She learned he had a weakness for feisty Latina women, had a daughter from almost-wife-number-three that he didn’t see much of, and really missed his dog, a small pincher that he had lost custody of during his divorce to wife number two. 

The thirty minutes they were on the road flew by, and in no time, they were arriving at the art gallery. Benz parked the truck across the street and smiled at her.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” She nodded her head, a smile blossoming on her own face. “Ready.”

He went to get the paintings out of the truck, giving her enough time to examine the gallery. The place was small and a far cry from ‘fancy’. That’s exactly what she needed, a small gallery that had a wide range of customers. She doubted her art would be to the taste of high-class people.
Mirror Images Art Gallery
suited her and her style quite well.

“You gonna stay there and gawk at it all day? Come on,” Benz called out to her. She had been so deep in thought that she had completely missed his movement. By the time she started walking to the entrance, he was half way there and she had to jog to catch up with him.

The inside of the place looked exactly like she pictured it. The walls were white, with lots of paintings hanging from them. The styles were different, from Renaissance to modern. She admired a few oil paintings, and then her gaze slid past the various portraits and beautiful landscapes to a small corner that was apparently dedicated to photography. She loved looking at photographs and the ones displayed here were really good. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t do anything with a camera but snap pictures that, more often than not, came out blurry. Spinning in a circle, Jackie examined the few sculptures that were spread across the room. She hoped the owner would like her work enough to give her a few spaces.

“Benz!”

Jackie turned in the direction the female voice had come from and watched as a black-haired woman walked towards her and Benz. She hadn’t noticed that he was next to her, but that wasn’t surprising, as she had been preoccupied with the art.

“Diane.” Benz stepped up when she reached them and kissed her hand, making her giggle. “This is Jackie, the one I told you about.”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Jackie exclaimed as she shook Diane’s hand, her grip surprisingly firm. Jackie noted that she looked rather delicate and a bit younger than Benz, probably being in her late-thirties. She wore a nice suit, but nothing too fancy, and her hair was swept up in a bun with a few curled strands framing her face. She was smiling and it looked genuine. All in all, Jackie liked the woman, but she couldn’t help wondering how Benz knew her. She guessed she’d never know, as the introductions were already made and he hadn’t elaborated.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Jackie smiled happily at the reply, getting excited and nervous at the same time. “Come on then, let me look at your work.”

Jackie nudged Benz and he started, too busy staring at Diane’s legs to pay attention to the conversation.

“The art, right.” He had propped her paintings on a nearby wall, so he quickly brought them over.

Bending to take the first one out of its case, Jackie presented it to the gallery owner, waiting for the verdict.

“That's nice.” Diane glanced at her quickly, then reverted her eyes back to the painting. “Not bad. Let’s see what else you’ve brought.”

Handing her another painting, Jackie relaxed and a large smile blossomed on her face. This was turning out perfect.

“Mmmhm. Your stuff will fit right in.” Putting the paintings on a small table, Diane turned to her again. “I can only give you a few spaces at the moment, as we’re rather full. Why don’t you leave these three here and we’ll talk about more if they sell well. What do you say?”

“That’s… that’s great!” Shaking the other woman’s hand once again, Jackie tried to express her gratitude. “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, don’t mention it.” Beckoning for Jackie to follow her, she went behind a desk and produced a few papers and a pen. “Let’s just fill these forms out and you'll be all set. We’ll call you when a sale goes through.”

Noting the use of the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if,’ Jackie smiled again. This was a great day, and most certainly one of the few she’d enjoyed since moving.

Walking out of the gallery a little while later, she felt like she was on cloud nine. Hugging Benz tightly, she laughed. He was quickly becoming her favorite Lakeside King.

“Thanks, Benz! You have no idea how much I appreciate what you did for me.”

“Eh, don’t mention it.” He winked at her, swinging an arm around her shoulders. "Now, how about we go get something to eat? I'm starving!"

24

June 25
th

It was a rowdy night in Macon and the bikers had gathered in the basement of the clubhouse, where a boxing-ring had been set up many years ago to provide some entertainment and stress relief. The alcohol was flowing wildly, and a majority of the room's occupants would be feeling it heavily the next morning. Ian, Taco, and TJ were completely hammered well before midnight, while Mack and Nash were being a bit more cautious with their alcohol intake.

“Dean venture down here any?” Mack asked his friend over the loud roar of the boxing match going on behind them. Nash motioned with his head to the top of the stairs where Dean stood leaning against the railing, his stony face observing the partying group below him. The pair watched as Luke gave a stern wave to the man, which they could vaguely translate as '
Get your ass down here and party like the rest of us. That's an order.
' Dean seemed to square his shoulders in response and walked slowly down the stairs to enter the crowd. While he probably would have liked to disappear into the large mass, he towered over most of the guests and could be spotted from across the room. This led the scantily-clad women over in swarms, eager to warm his newly-vacated bed should he want some private fun.

Apparently, he wasn't in the mood for their company. One glare and a few harsh words sent them and a few bystanders scattering to other areas of the room, much to the displeasure of Luke, who just wanted his enforcer to act normal for a few minutes.

Luke was definitely not expecting this much backlash from sending that girl to Lakeside. Sure, he got his killer back, but somehow the '
off
' switch had been broken in the process, and now it was nonstop anger exuding from his usually stoic brother. Luke sighed as he watched Dean stomp over to the bar, grab a beer, and park himself in the nearest chair, a look on his face that dared anyone to approach him.

An hour passed and Dean was still in his original seat, having moved on to the harder liquors and starting to feel their effects. Getting up with a bit of struggle, he decided that he had put in enough of an appearance for the evening. He hated having to play nice just because the boss said so. Now all he had to do was make it to the staircase on the other side of the basement. Then he'd be free to retreat to his quiet room by himself with another bottle of booze.

Murphy watched from a distance as, as if in slow motion, a drunken patron entered the scene innocently a few feet away from the large biker. He tensed as the two got closer and stood up as they inevitably collided. Cringing as he saw the man's precariously balanced drink get splashed across the front of Dean's shirt, Murphy tried to rush across the room in order to drag the Macon biker upstairs before he started something. However, the crowd prevented him from moving very fast as his friend's face got angrier by the second.

He arrived just as Dean's fist knocked the other man to the ground. Murphy tried to hold back the killer that lunged forward to continue his assault. “It was just a drink, brother, an accident,” he said, stepping in between the unconscious drunk and his friend, and trying to soothe the already out of control beast.  There was no recognition in Dean's eyes as he shoved the sergeant at arms, who returned the gesture full-force as his own anger flared. “What the fuck, man? Are you out of your damn mind?”

In response, Dean threw a punch towards Murphy, catching him in the jaw only to receive a blow to his own face. One tackled the other and they ended up on the floor, trading hits and growling out curses as they battled. Nobody nearby dared to try and separate the two skilled fighters for fear of being dragged into the fray. It was the combined efforts of Mack, Ian, and TJ that finally pulled Dean from a bloody Murphy, who tried to continue the fight only to be restrained by Nash and Luke.

“That's enough!” the charter president yelled over the noise of the two still trying to go at each other. The rest of the basement's inhabitants were deathly quiet, stunned into silence over what they were witnessing. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

“I'm so sick of your shit!” Murphy shouted angrily, wrenching his arm free of Nash' grasp, but making no move forward. His stare bore directly into Dean, who was still fuming and ready to fight. “For the past month, you've been snapping at anyone who looks at you and bashing people's heads in over nothing. It's getting really annoying at this point. Grow the fuck up, man! Either let her go or grow a set and call her!”

Dean's face went blank as his friend's words hit him harder than any punch ever could. He had tried to tell himself that his sudden need to smash things had nothing to do with a certain young woman. But hearing Murphy connecting the two made the idea so absolute in Dean's head. The three men holding on to him for dear life released him hesitantly as he quit his struggle, watching closely to make sure that nobody started round two.

Without saying a word, Dean turned and moved through the quickly-parting crowd. He made his way angrily up the stairs and out the front door of the clubhouse. Too keyed up to get on his bike, he walked to one of the wooden picnic tables and sat down on top of it, resting his elbows on his knees. He hung his head in his hands and sighed heavily, failing to notice the man that had quietly followed him outside. Only when he felt the bench shift beneath his feet did Dean pick his head up.

Nash had taken a seat next to him, his back leaning against the table that the other biker was sitting on. Dean glared at the man he had called a brother for many years, trying to send the message that he wasn't in the mood to talk. But he knew his quiet friend wouldn't pry into his business – that wasn't his style. Nash would wait for him to make the first move, and he'd be damned if he was going to spill his guts like some teenage girl at a sleepover. Dean snorted as Nash continued staring ahead, refusing to make eye contact or even acknowledge him as he stretched his arms across the wooden surface behind him.

Nash pulled out a cigarette and lit it, enjoying the torment he was causing the already-tense man next to him. It wasn't that he was like the Doctor Phil of the group or anything; he didn't go around trying to fix people. But sometimes the men of the club needed someone to listen to them and not crack jokes about their masculinity, and Nash didn't mind that role. It made people trust him, which kept him well informed on the inner-workings of the club. He could tell when someone was about to snap and he usually knew how to fix it.

That was his job. Prevent trouble within the charter.

And all of this pent up bullshit that Dean had collected was without a doubt causing problems. The past month had been nothing but tension in the clubhouse. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him to avoid a confrontation with his even shorter fuse. It was as though the half of Dean that had been relatively normal and easy-going had stayed behind in Lakeside, leaving the cold and distant killer to walk alone in Macon. He had become more temperamental and only showed his face for meetings and necessary work at the garage. Any attendance of standard parties involved him confiscating most of the hard liquor for himself. His first solution to any problem, personal or club-related, seemed to involve fists and alcohol.

Nash was determined to sit here all night if he had to. He was going to put an end to all of this shit. He just hoped that his brother would be willing to talk. And to listen.

“How do I fix all of this?” Dean asked a few minutes later. “I just want things back to the way they were.”

Puffing on his cigarette, Nash remained quiet for a few minutes, then asked, “What is it exactly that you want to fix?”

“I got what I wanted – Jackie is gone and I'm free to go back to my old ways without having to worry about anyone. But it doesn't feel right.”

Silence reigned once again as both men thought things over.

“Are you sure that's what you wanted?” Dean looked down at his friend in confusion. “If it doesn't feel right, then something is missing.
Jackie
is missing. Face it, she's a part of who you are now. It's not gonna go away just because she left.”

A look of skepticism crossed Dean's face. “Whatever happened, happened. There's no changing it now. She's long gone. Probably found herself a nice doctor or lawyer. She's young, she'll move on quick.”

'
Oh, how wrong you are
,' Nash thought with a smile as he imagined what a pregnant-Jackie would look like. “It's only been a month. I seriously doubt she's forgotten about you just yet, brother.”

“How do you figure that? Have you talked to her?”

“Actually, I haven't,” he lied smoothly, not wanting to get into the specifics of the conversation he'd had with the woman just days before. “But now that you mention it, I should probably call her.” Nash narrowed his eyes at the younger man beside him, hoping he'd listen. “Better yet,
you
should call her.”

Dean started shaking his head before Nash had finished speaking. “And say what? 'I know last time we talked, I told you that I liked to kill people and then you skipped town, but I just wanted to call and see how you were doing.'”

Nash rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, wondering if any rational thought was going through his friend's head at the moment. “She cares about you. You need to show her that you care for her too.”

“Fuck, Nash. The whole damn city knows that I care about her. She was the only girl that I slept with for eight months. That's like an actual fucking relationship for me. And look how that turned out. Why would I bother doing it again?” Dean sighed in frustration and ran his hands over his face. “Whether or not I care for her isn't the problem. You saw what I was turning into with her around. I was becoming a little pussy. I couldn't do my job. I was distracted all the time. This club is all that I've ever had. My loyalty to the club has to come before anything else.”

It was easy to see the conflicting emotions on Dean's face, as the cold anger tried to gain dominance over the affection that he felt for Jackie. It was also easy to see which one was currently winning the battle.

“I see what you're turning into
without
her here. You're angry, standoffish, and rude. Nobody wants to be around you. Hell, it seems like you don't want to be around anyone either. While this version of you may be the better killer, he also forgets the reasons why he joined this club in the first place so many years ago. He forgets the importance of family and friends. The things he started killing people to protect.” Nash tossed his cigarette stub on the ground and let out a final breath of smoke. This tactic of persuasion clearly wasn't helping to convince Dean that he needed to fix things with Jackie. “Okay, so what if she is with another guy. Would that satisfy you? Would that make your life go back to normal?”

Nash could see Dean's nostrils flair at the mere thought of his girl with someone else, but the response he gave wasn't exactly expected. “She deserves a guy that can give her everything.”

Rolling his eyes at the obvious avoidance of the question, Nash tried again. “That's not what I asked. Would
you
go back to your old self if she had moved on? Would you forget all about her?” Dean looked hesitantly at the other biker, at a loss for words. “There's no going back, brother. Looks like you're either an angry, lonely old man or you go get your girl and be... happy.”

For a second, Nash thought he had finally broken through the hard exterior shell, but the moment passed and a defeated Dean stood up stiffly. “She needs a lot more than I can give her. It doesn't matter how I feel. It's what's best for both of us. I can be the killer and she can get on with her life.”

With those words, Dean turned and trudged slowly back into the clubhouse, leaving Nash to toss his hands up in annoyance. He didn't know what else to do to convince the man that he needed Jackie as much as she needed him.