Motorcycle Man

Chapter Ten Metal Detector

“You okay?” I asked Lanie who was tucked into the double bed in my guest bedroom, her eyes red and puffy, her nose red and swollen and about a thousand used Kleenexes littering the nightstand and floor by the bed.

“No,” she snuffled, reached out to the Kleenex box, snatched another one out, shoved her face into it and burst into loud tears.

“Honey,” I whispered, stroking her hair back.

I was sitting on the bed beside her, although for the last hour I’d been lying in it with her. She was inconsolable until about two minutes ago when she’d pulled it together and I thought it was safe to leave her.

Apparently it wasn’t.

Earlier, Tack had taken off after having a quiet word with Rush in the kitchen, giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek and one on the lips for me. Rush and Tabby had hung around until Brick roared up on his bike. Rush walked me out to Brick’s bike and promised to lock up behind him and Tabby. I’d gone to Lanie, explained what had happened with Elliott and what Tack told me about him not including the fact he was picking Elliott up to have a “chat”. I didn’t think Tack’s “chats” were like any kinds of chats Lanie and I could comprehend and I figured Lanie would know that.

Not surprisingly, Lanie had not believed this at first. There was a drama where she accused me of being insane and blinded by hormones when it came to Tack.

Brick, who had been quietly standing inside the front door of the house came in and confirmed my words by saying, “Babe, what Cherry here says is true. Everyone on the grid knows Elliott Belova is a serious bad dude. I got no reason to shit you. This guy is whacked.”

Lanie had stared up at big, bearded, man-bun-haired Brick then she burst into tears.

I wrapped my arms around Lanie but looked up at Brick and mouthed, “Cherry?”

To which Brick grinned and muttered, “Creative.”

I rolled my eyes. Brick yanked out his phone and called some guy named Hopper. Then I helped Lanie pack a bag. Then I climbed on the back of Brick’s bike, Lanie climbed on the back of Hopper’s bike and we roared back to my house. They made sure we were in safe, Brick told me to lock up after them then the boys rolled off.

Commence wild-ass crying jag, not a small amount of ranting, a couple of tantrums (one that included Lanie throwing her two and a half carat diamond engagement ring into my backyard and I made a note to self to rent a metal detector prior to mowing my lawn the next time), Lanie texting Elliott about seven hundred times calling him every name she could think of and I finally got her to bed with a box of Kleenex.

Which brought me to now.

“You think you know someone,” she sobbed into her tissue.

“Oh, Lanie,” I whispered, still stroking her hair.

“I had to learn from a biker that my fiancé is whacked,” she wailed.

I bit my lip.

“I mean…” she pulled the tissue away, started to look up at me, her eyes caught on something across the room, they grew huge, she bolted upright in bed and screamed bloody murder.

I leaped from the bed and turned to the door where her eyes were glued and saw Tack leaning against the jamb.

“Hey, babe,” Tack greeted me casually over Lanie’s screaming which, fortunately, made Lanie stop screaming.

“Tack,” I said softly.

“You… you’re Tack?” Lanie whispered and I looked down at her to see she was staring at Tack.

“That’s me,” Tack said.

“Holy shit, Ty-Ty, you were not wrong. He… is… hawt.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head but closing my eyes didn’t mean my ears closed and therefore I heard Tack’s very deeply amused chuckle.

Fabulous.

Apparently, heartbreak and finding out your fiancé was a bad dude didn’t interfere with appreciating a fine male specimen. Good to know.

Before I recovered from my latest mortification that involved Tack, I felt his arm slide around my shoulders. My head came up when he curled me into his side and I saw that he was looking down at Lanie.

“How you doin’?” he asked gently.

“Uh…” Lanie answered, her eyes zipping back and forth between Tack and me.

“You need anything?” Tack asked.

“Uh…” Lanie answered, still doing the zipping thing.

“Ice cream?” Tack went on. “Whiskey?” he continued when Lanie shook her head. “Weed?” Luckily he stopped there.

“Uh…” Lanie repeated, her eyes settling on Tack.

“I think she’s good,” I finally answered for her.

“Yeah, uh… I think I’m good,” Lanie confirmed.

Tack pulled me closer, asking, “You done with Tyra for tonight?”

“Uh… sure,” Lanie said.

“Is that a sure, sure or is that a not so sure, sure?” Tack asked.

I looked up at him thinking he was being both very cool and very sweet. I didn’t know what to make of this coming from him.

“I think I’m cried out… for now,” Lanie told Tack.

“Right,” he said quietly. “Then I’m gonna steal her.”

“Okay,” Lanie agreed.

“You rest good,” Tack told her.

“Uh… okay,” Lanie said.

Tack didn’t speak for a beat then he said softly, “You’ll be all right.”

She blinked up at him. I did too.

Then he turned us to the door.

“Uh… ‘night,” she called to our backs.

I looked over my shoulder at her and replied, “’Night, honey. I’m right next door if you need me.”

“’Night,” Tack said, not looking back. He guided me out of the room, closed the door then he guided me to my room then he closed that door and curled me to him full frontal. I looked up at him and he asked, “How’d that go?”

“On the Drama Breakup with Your Fiancé Six Weeks Before the Wedding Because You Just Found Out He’s A Bad Dude Scale of one to ten that was a twenty-seven.”

Tack’s lips twitched.

I went on, “There’s a fourteen thousand dollar diamond engagement ring somewhere in my backyard.”

Tack’s lips stopped twitching because they curved upwards.

“Do you know where I can rent a metal detector?” I queried.

The curve turned into his sexy grin before he stated, “I’ll get one of my boys to find it.”

“That would be good considering she can hock that ring and add a room onto her house, make it a shrine to all the reasons she hates Elliott Belova.”

The sexy grin turned into a bigger, sexier smile that included the lines radiating from his eyes deepening and his face looking like he was fighting laughter.

It was a seriously good look and I got so lost in it, I didn’t notice it start to fade until his gentle voice came at me.

“You seem better.”

I pulled in breath through my nose. Then I told him, “I’m better because she’s going to survive and my hard part is done. Now I just have to offer support and that’s easy.”

He studied me again, his eyes moving over my face before they caught mine.

“You need sleep or you wanna know about this guy?” he asked.

I needed sleep. It had to be well beyond midnight and although my boss probably would understand if I called off and hung with my best friend the next day seeing as he was intimately involved in this drama, now that I was getting the hang of it, my job was pretty busy. Not to mention, the mechanics and body shop guys would not be good on their own. They needed direction. They also needed a listening ear. They further needed coffee and donuts. I missed donuts one day and I thought there was going to be a revolt. I had to get into Ride.

But I still wanted to know about Elliott.

“I wanna know about Elliott,” I told him.

He nodded and gave me a squeeze. “Get ready for bed, baby, I gotta make a call. I’ll meet you there and we’ll talk before we sleep.”

I blinked at him as he let me go, turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

What did he mean, get ready for bed, and I’ll meet you there and we’ll talk before we sleep?

The getting ready for bed part I could do. My getting ready for bed left me in nearly the same outfit I was in when Tack left the room. Except it was drawstring pajama shorts rather than jean shorts and there was no bra under my camisole. Therefore I did that part.

I was sitting cross-legged on my covers, rubbing hand cream in my hands when Tack returned, again closing the door behind him.

“Tack, maybe we should –”

I stopped speaking when his hands immediately went to the hem of his tee. Then it was up and gone and I had a full on view of his wide chest, tight abs and array of tattoos.

Holy heck. I forgot what a great chest he had. How broad his shoulders were. How much I really liked the definition of his collarbone. How much more I liked the ridges of his six pack. And how stupefyingly fascinating his tats were.

He’d undone his belt and two buttons of his jeans by the time I pulled it together but I lost it again when he turned and sat on the bed to pull off his boots and I caught sight of his back. Tack’s back was tattooed too, from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, spanning his ribs and down his spine. It was an insignia I saw a lot around Ride and included wings, flames, the profile of an eagle and the American flag with a waving banner that spanned his waist in which, in old style, old West writing it said, simply, “Chaos”.

It was an unbelievably cool tattoo.

I hadn’t recovered from it by the time he had his boots off and stood. It was then I snapped to, opened my mouth to suggest we talk in the living room prior to his leaving for the night and then his jeans were gone.

My breath caught and my eyes glazed over and before I knew it, Tack swept the covers down, climbed into bed, grabbed my hand, pulled me forward so I went up on my knees then toppled down on him. Finally, he swept the covers over us both.

I lifted my head and chest and stared down at him.

“Uh…” I mumbled.

“Elliott Belova is in some serious bad shit and I say that knowin’ he was in serious bad shit before. The shit he’s actually in is serious,” Tack started the conversation and I snapped my mouth shut.

Then I opened it to ask, “So, he chatted?”

“Man wouldn’t shut up,” Tack answered.

Suddenly all ears, I dropped my chest to his to get closer and whispered, “Tell me.”

To that, for some reason he asked, “Your girl in there, this wedding, it big?”

“Um… yeah. She’s spending ten thousand dollars on flowers alone.”

“Jesus,” Tack muttered.

“Her dress cost more than my car,” I informed him.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tack was still muttering.

“And you already know about the fourteen thousand dollar engagement ring. I won’t get into the catering,” I finished.

“Christ, that explains that,” Tack said.

“What?” I asked.

“Babe, her man loves her. Blinded by that shit. Wants to hand her the world.”

“And?” I prompted when he didn’t go on.

“And, Red, he can’t afford fourteen thousand dollar engagement rings and ten grand on flowers and whatever the fuck on catering. That guy is in so deep he drowned about six months ago. He’s dead man walking.”

I felt my eyes get wide. “Really?”

“Really,” Tack affirmed.

“I thought he made good money, she made good money. I thought –”

“They might make good money, darlin’, but I’m guessin’, the way they live added to that fuckin’ wedding…” He shook his head. “He couldn’t swing it. He also couldn’t say no. He had some money, made what he called a ‘bad investment’ but what he means is, he got ripped off. Promised two hundred percent return in two months turned into a loss of one hundred and fifty K in the blink of an eye. The guy he gave the money to disappeared. Belova scrambled. Tried to find a way out usin’ family ties but found himself hooked to some serious men who wanted to use his super brain to do some super serious illegal shit. They paid him and these guys pay you, they own you. Now, they own him. He can’t get out from under it. I just called a cop I know and it’s worse. He’s not only on the grid, he’s on radar. These men won’t cut him loose and Lawson at DPD didn’t say it flat out but I get the sense the cops know what he’s doin’. Belova’s done, he wants out and he wants out bad. Your friend talked to him about me, this guy’s got an idea about bikers, he came over here to talk to you to get to me but he got me. He made another stupid play, thinkin’ I do that shit. Now he’s owned by the Russian Mob, he’s on cop radar and he’s not my favorite person, making assumptions like that about me. One way or the other, this guy is fucked. Far as I can see, he’s got two options, jail or dead. But even if the cops get to him before the mob, he goes inside, he’s dead. He even thinks of talkin’ to the cops, he’s dead. So, my guess is, he’s dead.”

I stared down at him and felt my nose start to sting as I thought of sweet, generous, totally in love with my best friend Elliott.

Then I whispered, “Damn, I don’t think I’m better anymore.”

Then I dropped my head and did a face plant in Tack’s chest.

I felt his hand glide into my hair and cup the back of my head as I heard and felt him mutter, “Baby.”

I turned my head, pressed my cheek to his chest and Tack’s hand slid to under my ear but his thumb moved to stroke my cheek as I deep breathed to fight back my tears.

Then I said softly, “Don’t be mad at him, Tack. It wasn’t cool, him asking you to do that. It was messed up. But it sounds like he’s desperate and I always knew he’d do anything for Lanie. He’s got enough to worry about. He doesn’t need to worry about pissing off scary biker dude.”

“Babe, he’s still at the Compound which, right now, is maybe the safest place in Denver he could be.”

I lifted my head and slid my hand up his chest to rest my chin on it as my eyes went to his.

“You’re protecting him?”

“For now, until I decide what to do with him, but, Red, that don’t mean I’m not still pissed at him. Comin’ to your house, talkin’ to me on your deck, with you and my kids in the house and asking me somethin’ that fucked up?” He shook his head. “No.”

I nodded because he was right. What Elliott did was a big no.

Therefore, to change the subject, I asked, “What did he do for the mob?”

“Better question, what didn’t he do? Hacks. Creative accounting. Creative banking. Wire taps. Camera feeds. Drops. Pickups. Messenger. It’s lucky this guy works from home and I’ll lay cake down on the fact he got zero real work done in the last six months, he’s been so visible doing shit for Lescheva.”

“Lescheva?”

“Grigori Lescheva, top guy in the Russian mob and distant relative of your boy Elliott.”

“Oh,” I whispered, my eyes slid to the side and I murmured, “All so Lanie could have peonies in August.”

Tack’s fingers still in my hair tensed against my scalp and my eyes slid back to him. “No. That woman in there with her mountain of Kleenex would be happy without peonies in August, Red. This is about him growin’ a pair, mannin’ up and tellin’ her he can’t hand her the world. She didn’t want the world. She wanted him. He didn’t have enough confidence in himself to believe that a woman like her would want a man like him and in the end, he took away the only thing she really ever wanted.”

Um… wow. I liked that Tack knew that and I also liked how he said it.

I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I whispered, “This is true.”

“I know it’s true,” he whispered back.

“If he’s broke, how was he going to pay you half a million dollars to whack this Lescheva guy?” I asked.

“Provin’ irrefutably he’s a moron, he was gonna use his skills to steal it from the mob.”

Yes, that proved irrefutably that Elliott was a moron. Big time.

I turned my head, pressed my cheek against my hand on his chest and sighed.

Tack’s fingers tensed against my scalp again and he ordered, “Come here, baby, I want a kiss then I gotta get some shuteye. I’m fuckin’ wiped.”

I blinked at my room.

Now was the time to tell him he wasn’t sleeping in my bed and he needed to go to another one. The problem was, he was naked in my bed and I was resting on his chest.

Oh boy. How did I let that happen?

I decided to blame Elliott and Tack’s tats.

Then I pulled in breath, lifted my head and looked at Tack.

“Uh… maybe you should sleep elsewhere tonight?” I suggested what I hoped sounded more like a requirement.

He grinned, his fingers slid to the back of my head and he started pulling me to him, saying, “Quit fuckin’ around, Red, I’m tired.”

“I wasn’t, erm… fucking around.”

His hand stopped putting pressure on my head and his brows knit.

“Say again?”

“I think you should, um… probably, uh…” Damn! “With Lanie here, you know… you should…”

His hand left my hair, both hands went under my armpits and he hauled me up his chest then rolled into me so he was on top. Then he gave me the goodnight kiss to beat all goodnight kisses. It was long, hard, deep, wet and utterly delicious.

When he was done, I was breathing heavily, my lips were tingling, my nipples were tingling and there were other places that had started to tingle but he’d stopped. Then he rolled to his back, reached an arm out to turn off the light on my nightstand, the room was plunged into darkness and he tucked me into his side.

My cheek was to his shoulder, my hand on his abs and I was trying to control my breath.

Once I got my breath under control, I said quietly into the darkness, “I guess this means you aren’t going to go home.”

His arm around my waist got tight before it relaxed and he replied with humor in his tone, “Yeah, Red, that’s what it means.”

I wondered what he would have done if I hadn’t slithered out of his room when he’d kicked me out of his bed and instead just stayed. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him but I couldn’t call up the courage.

Then I realized I had no choice but to sleep with a naked Tack in my bed. And even though he’d been very cool about Elliott, with Lanie and even with me, this annoyed me to an extreme.

He’d said, You don’t fit into all the shit that’s swirlin’ in my life right now unless I can make you fit. That’s all I got to give you and that’s all you’re gonna get. And you’re gonna take what I have to give, Red. You’re not gonna resign. You’re not gonna disappear. You’re gonna be where I want you to be, you’re gonna do what I want you to do and you’re gonna listen to what I have to say and if you don’t do it, I’ll find a way to make you do it.

And when he’d said that, clearly he wasn’t lying.

I decided we needed to have a conversation and when we had our next one we needed to have it when I wasn’t flat on my back with Tack on top of me.

I rolled away from him to my other side, tucking my hands under my cheek and staring into the darkness.

He rolled with me, his arm curving tight around my ribs and pulling me deep into his body as his knee came up, taking mine with it and he leaned in, partially pinning me to the bed.

I’d rather cut off my own arm than ever hurt you.

He’d said that too.

Mixed messages and multiple personalities.

I closed my eyes tight, pulled in a deep breath and then let it go. When I did, Tack’s arm moved out and up, his hand found my wrist, pulled it down and his fingers laced in mine before he tucked both our hands tight to my chest.

Then he whispered in my ear, “Sleep, baby, it’s all gonna be all right.”

He thought I was worried about Elliott and Lanie and he was being sweet about it.

I closed my eyes tighter, took another deep breath and let it go.

Then I whispered back, “Okay, Tack.”

“’Night, Red.”

“’Night.”

I felt his lips touch the back of my neck then I felt his weight settle into me again and a little while later I heard his steady breathing.

A little while after that, mine joined his.