Brax (3 page)

Chapter Three

Brax

“You going to let us in on who that skirt was last night or
are you keeping that one a secret?”

I sat with my booted feet up on the conference room table in Colt’s
office. Joker, E.J., Mac, Tate, and the rest of the crew sat further down the
table. The guys had been more interested in what I did with my dick lately. I
had a bad break-up with a good woman last year. As a result, we still hadn’t
been able to find a decent hostess for the bar. They needn’t have worried
though. I learned my lesson. I wasn’t going near anyone whose paychecks we
signed anytime soon.

“She was nobody,” I said, not sure why I wanted to keep Nicole
to myself. She’d been conspicuous as fuck when she walked in here last night
and these guys were nosier than a bunch of old ladies. “Old friend from high
school. She wanted a favor. One I can’t provide.”

Joker said something that earned him a bottle cap right
between the eyes. It wasn’t anything worse than shit I’d said a million times,
but for some reason, I didn’t want the topic of Nicole at the table anymore.

“Any word from Colt or Kellan how the Florida trip is going?” E.J.
asked. Colt and Kellan, our prez and veep, had taken their wives down to the
Emerald Coast charter to scout out a new location for the gym franchise we
owned. A huge chunk of club income came from the membership and the world-class
MMA fighters we trained and sponsored through the Great Wolves Gym. After a
rocky couple of years, our wallets were fat and Lincolnshire itself had finally
turned the corner.

“Things are good,” I said. “And it looks like they might bring
back a few prospects with them. Emerald Coast’s numbers are starting to swell.
And everyone at this table knows we still need new blood.”

Regime change when Colt took over hadn’t come without a price.
It had been my job to exact it by putting two dirty members in the ground. I
felt my jaw go hard when I thought about it. It had been necessary, justified.
They’d been ready to kill me first and Colt right after. But I still had to put
bullets in the heads of two men I’d once called friends. The rest of the guys
went silent around the table. I didn’t have to say anything. Just the mention
of our dwindling numbers conjured up all that past shit for them as well.
Though no one judged or faulted me for what I had to do, it set me apart from
them now and forever. Justified or not, I’d violated club code. There wasn’t a
damn thing I could do about that. But we’d rewritten the rules.

“Good to hear,” Joker said as he rapped his knuckles on the table.
“I’m sick of looking at the same sorry faces across this table.”

“I’m sick as shit of doing all the grunt work,” E.J. said,
earning him groans around the table.

“You’ve gotta be the laziest son of a bitch I know, E.J,” Tate
said. “What’d you do? Break a nail on the way to your fucking massage
appointment?”

E.J. leaped over the table and tried to punch Tate. Tate
caught his fist and shoved him backward. They laughed and shuffled, but with
the table between them, neither of them could do much damage. Except to the
table if the fuckers kept at it. I smashed the gavel down hard enough I thought
I might have broken the handle for a second. But it got their attention. Tate
straightened his shirt under his leather cut and sat back down.

“Do we have anything else important to talk about yet or do
you two just wanna keep on finger fucking each other?” Tate flipped me off and
E.J. stifled a laugh.

With everyone sorted out and settled, we went over the night’s
receipts and doled out jobs for the next week. Tate wasn’t wrong, E.J. was a
lazy son of a bitch. He bitched and moaned when he realized with Colt and
Kellan out for at least another two weeks, he’d still be on floor management
for the bar at night, and supply runs for the gym. When everyone else was clear
on what they had to do, the room cleared out leaving just Tate and me at the
table.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me about that Ridley girl?”
Tate said, leaning back in his chair until the back of it rested against the
wall.

I shrugged then shook my head. It was in me to blow him off
again. For the second time, I felt a little protective of her and I didn’t
quite know why. But Tate wasn’t buying it. Of everyone in the club, he’d known
me the longest. I’d actually brought him around for the first time when we were
just seventeen. He’d already dropped out of school and would have been headed
for prison if he hadn’t gotten his shit straight when he did.

I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the
wad of paper Nicole had given me. “She’s an old friend, like I said. She was
just hoping I could help her out with a problem involving her brother.”

Tate rolled his eyes. “Shee-it. Bad news, man. You tell her
that’s not our gig anymore?”

Chewing the side of my mouth, I nodded. “Yep. She was just . .
. uh . . . a little more persuasive than most people.”

Tate laughed and whistled low. “I kinda figured. You let her
down easy or did she find your soft spot?”

Shrugging, I laid my hands flat on the table. Then I flipped
the picture of Doug Ridley. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. A little skinny with a
dopey grin on his face as he posed against a shiny red Corvette.

“Pretty boy,” Tate said, leaning over to get a better look.
“Drugs? Horses?”

“Who fucking knows. I told her I’d see what I could find out but
that she shouldn’t get her hopes up.”

“Yeah. Be careful. Our luck he’s mixed up with assholes we
don’t need to be around right now.”

I tapped my fingers on the table and nodded. Tate was right.
We’d gotten out of the shakedown business when Colt took over. Ever since we’d
faced threats from other clubs who wanted to fill the void in Lincolnshire.
Sometimes, it felt like the only difference between our legit interests and
what we used to be was a detailed tax return. But yeah, if Doug Ridley was
mixed up with someone hostile to the club, all bets were off.

“Well, a phone call or two won’t do any harm,” Tate said. “And
maybe earning a little gratitude for your trouble might not be the worst way to
spend your time.”

Tate’s comment was harmless, but still, the hairs on my neck
stood on end and I had to fight the urge to curl my fists. What the fuck? We
were talking about a girl I hadn’t seen for fifteen years, had no claim on
except for one wild night when we were eighteen, and yet I wanted to knock the
filth straight out of Tate’s mouth.

I think he saw something flash in my eyes because he cleared
his throat and made some excuse to get the hell out of there. “Yeah,” he said.
“Just lemme know if you need any help with that. I’ll catch up with you tonight
after I swing by the gym.”

Nodding, I raised my hand in a wave as he stepped around the
table and headed out of the room. Yeah. What could it hurt to make a few phone
calls on Nicole’s behalf? I pulled the phone out of my back pocket and dialed
Rick Malloy’s number. Rick ran
The Shires,
a seedy bar on the east side
of town. Rick knew pretty much everything about everyone in this town. Though
none of the names on Nicole’s list meant anything to me, they might to Rick. He
answered on the second ring and agreed to meet me an hour later.

By the time I got to
The Shires
, I had three missed
calls on my phone. Nicole’s number popped up. I felt like shit for not
answering, but until I had a bead on who or what her brother might be mixed up
in, I didn’t want to let her down.

At not even noon, Rick’s bar wasn’t open to the public yet.
That didn’t stop a few drunks from congregating near his dumpster. I pulled a
couple of twenties out of my back pocket and gave them to the guys, telling
them to beat it. Yeah, I know I’m a sucker for doing it. Chances are they were
going to drink or shoot up with what I’d given them. But I’ve been down on my
luck plenty. Sometimes it just takes one good day to turn shit around. Plus, it
got them the hell away from
The Shires
. If Rick told me shit I didn’t
want to hear, at least they wouldn’t be around to repeat it or even know that
I’d come asking.

Rick stood behind the bar with a dingy towel over his left
shoulder. I waved my hand to decline the shot of bourbon he offered me. It
wasn’t even noon yet, after all. I slid a hundred-dollar bill and Doug Ridley’s
picture across the bar to him. No point in not getting right to it.

“You seen this kid hanging around?”

Rick pulled his reading glasses out of his pocket and palmed
the C-note. “Shit. He looks like about a hundred different douchebags, Brax.
What’s so special about this one?”

Dammit. Ricky knew better than to ask. The thing was, I had
kind of a soft spot for the guy. Back in our shakedown days, he’d earned the
wrath of our former prez more times than he deserved. And when shit went down
and Colt took over, Rick got caught in the crossfire a little. But he kept his
mouth shut and his head down and for that alone, I owed him.

“He’s just important to someone who asked me a favor. Do you
recognize him or not?”

Ricky cocked his head to the side and a sly smile played at
the corners of his mouth. Motherfucker. I reached into my pocket and slid a
fifty across the bar. “Don’t push your luck, man.”

Ricky laughed and took the money. “Yeah. I think the lighting
just got a little better. He does look a little more familiar than the hundred
other douchebags.”

“Well, I’m glad you found some clarity. Tell me what you
know.”

Ricky shrugged and fingered the edges of the photo. “College Boy.
Can’t tell you his real name, but he’s been in a couple of times. Sticks out
like a sore thumb. So I’d say, hey, College Boy, what are you drinking? Three
or four times maybe over the last six months or so I seen him. One time he came
by himself. Then he met somebody. It’s not good, Brax, whatever he’s into.
Kid’s a dumb shit if he can’t figure that out on his own.”

“Who’d he meet, Ricky? I’m kind of trying to figure out what
kind of trouble he’s messing with. Is it local? You think he’s selling or just
using?”

Ricky raised his eyebrows and his face twitched. There was
something he didn’t want to tell me. That meant he was worried enough his
talking to me about this might get back to someone. That was bad mojo right
there.

I pulled the other slip of paper Nicole gave me out of my
pocket and stabbed a finger over the names she’d written. “You recognize any of
these guys? I didn’t. But you know dealing was never our scene.”

“You think it’s mine?”

I put a hand up in surrender. “No. Shit, man. No. But you’ve
got eyes and ears. I’m asking you to use them. Give me a little help here. This
kid might be a dipshit but I’m thinking real strongly he’s in over his head
with something. I haven’t decided how deeply I want to get involved. You may be
able to help me make up my mind.”

Ricky chewed his bottom lip as his eyes darted over the paper.
He rubbed the skin on the back of his neck before slowly bringing it down and
pointing to the second name on the list.

“Hodges. Daryl Hodges.”

“Never heard of him.”

“That’s the guy College Boy met here one night. You need to
stay out of this one, Brax. That piece of advice is on the house.”

“Why, Ricky?”

Ricky shook his head and whistled through the gap in his
teeth. “Young blood. Small time so far but you don’t wanna go there.”

“Goddammit, Ricky, out with it.”

“He was a hang-a-round. Big on words. Small on brains. But he
came in here a few

times with Garth Kincaid, Brax.”

My heart turned to stone as I let out a slow breath. Ricky
nodded, seeing my reaction.

“Now you want my opinion, they’re lowering their standards
with a guy like Hodges. But the last time I saw this Daryl fella, he was
wearing a cut. Not fully patched, but he’s a probie, Brax. Hodges is with the
Red Brigands.”

“Fuck.” I slammed my fist against the bar. Ricky’s face went
white, but he crossed his arms in front of him and nodded. Fuck, indeed. Of all
the things Ricky could have told me, he’d just laid out the one situation where
I couldn’t offer Nicole a damn bit of help. And it probably meant her brother
was already dead.

Chapter Four

Ricky made another offer to pour me a bourbon and this time I
said yes.

“You’re one hundred percent sure?” I think I’d asked him that
ten times.

Ricky pursed his lips together as he poured the shot and slid
it across to me. “Sorry, man. I guess you gotta decide how bad you really want
to help this friend of yours.”

I downed the bourbon, lifted the glass to Ricky then set it
down on the bar bottom-side up. “Thanks for the tip and the drink. And that
cash you just pocketed buys you keeping your mouth shut that I even asked.”

Ricky nodded. He knew the drill. I scooped up Nicole’s photo
and paperwork and stuffed it into my back pocket as I headed out the door.

I slid my helmet over my ears and straddled my Harley. A crisp
spring breeze lifted the hair off my collar. I stabbed my fingers through my
leather gloves as I tried to figure out what to do.

“Son of a bitch!”

I wasn’t afraid of the Red Brigands M.C. Not by a long shot.
They ran their operation more toward Indianapolis and mostly stayed out of our
shit. But I’d be lying if I said things were easy between their club and ours.
Never an all-out war, but the Brigands and the Wolves had a precarious truce.
We stayed out of their backyard. They stayed out of ours. Their shit was bad
shit. Drugs. Prostitution. One of the reasons the Lincolnshire P.D. tolerated
the Wolves, even under the old regime, was because we kept worse elements like
the Brigands out of town. So if Doug Ridley was mixed up with them, it told me
two things, neither of them good.

First, if Ridley was dealing for them and begging Nicole for
money, he was probably already in too deep to save. Second, it made me wonder
what the hell the Brigands were doing sending a prospect up this far into our
territory. The first thing I couldn’t do much about. The second thing could
mean something God awful for my town. It could also mean something far more
dangerous to Nicole if her brother tried to drag her into his shit even further.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I pulled it out. No
matter what else happened, I needed to bring this to the table. Colt and Kellan
needed in on it too. I looked at the caller ID and let out a breath. Better to
rip this particular Band-Aid off sooner rather than later.

“Anderson,” I said into the phone.

I heard a breath. Then another. I imagined she was on the
other end working up the courage to say whatever she wanted to say.

“Brax?” Nicole’s voice was shaky. She was out of breath.

“Nicole?”

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to bother. I called
The
Wolf Den
. Your friend Tate gave me your number. Don’t be mad at him. I kind
of insisted.”

“It’s okay. What’s up?”

“I’ve heard from Doug.”

My heart dropped. I could tell by her tone whatever he’d said
to her had scared the shit out of her.

“How much does he want this time?” Sure, it was insensitive of
me, but this girl needed to start facing the truth.

“Brax, he sounded really scared. He thinks someone’s going to
kill him. I think maybe he’s out of time.”

I choked back the thing I wanted to say next.
He’s probably
right, honey.

“Nicole. I want you to listen to me very carefully. Don’t give
him any money. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Doug’s got bigger
problems than I think you realize.”

“Do you know where he is? Were you able to find anything out?”

Shit. This was the wrong way to play this. I should have just
told her sorry, but this isn’t my problem. Your brother ain’t worth the
inevitable shit storm to my club.

“Honey, you need to tell me you understand what I’m saying to
you.”

She let out a choked sound that tore at me a little. I felt
like an ass. Doug Ridley was just another dipshit user. But to Nicole he was
family. Fucking family. She started to cry.

“Shit. I’m sorry. Can we meet? You got time for coffee? I’ll
come to you. Just promise me you won’t give any more money to that dip—your
brother until I see you.”

She sniffled into the phone and I took that as a yes.

“Where are you, honey?”

“What?” She gave a proper snort into the phone that actually
pierced my ear. “Oh. I thought you knew. I’m at the parlor right now.”

“The parlor?”

“
Ridley’s Ice Cream
? My dad’s place. I run it now.”

I couldn’t help but smile. An ice cream shop. The Homecoming
Queen now ran the family ice cream shop. God. What the hell was I getting
myself into?

“Can you come? We’re pretty dead right now. I’m here by
myself. I don’t have anyone coming in until after two o’clock. We get a little
busy right after school lets out.”

“I’m on my way,” I said, already revving my engine. I tore off
toward the center of town.

Dammit. Going to see her again was probably a mistake. Why
couldn’t I have just told her I was out over the phone? Because I wanted to see
her again. Bad. Maybe the rest of the guys were right. I couldn’t seem to stop
thinking with my dick. A pissed-off hostess was one thing. Borrowing trouble
from a rival club was something else. I made the turn toward the center of town
and parked right in front of City Hall. The ice cream parlor was tucked on a
corner between
Hubbard’s Barber Shop
and
Robert’s Dry Cleaners
.

Ridley’s Ice Cream Shop
. Fuck. I
don’t think I’d ever been in the place. Not my kind of crowd. I looked left and
right, half expecting someone to laugh as they watched me walk in. The place
was empty, just like Nicole predicted. I weaved my way around the red leather
booths and black-and-white-checkered tabletops. The place was clean. White
bread. It felt a little like stepping into a 1950s time capsule.

She came out from the kitchen looking like a sweet treat
herself. A cotton-candy-pink polyester dress with a stiff collar and a little
white apron in front. The short skirt barely covered her ass and I couldn’t
help fantasizing about what she’d look like bent over in it. My jeans got tight
and I blew out a breath as I approached her.  Nicole might have been dressed
like candy, but she had fire in her eyes as I towered over her.

“What do you know, Brax? Tell me.”

So that was it. No preamble. No tears. Nicole had steeled her
back to hear me deliver the bad news.

“Cute dress,” I said, not able to help myself. My smile grew
wide when she flashed me her middle finger. Dammit. I liked this girl more and
more.

“I’m not going to make my waitresses wear something I
wouldn’t. It’s kind of a tradition. Part of the draw.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I can see why. I’m impressed. Can we sit
down?”

Nicole motioned to the nearest booth. “Do you want something?”

I bit my lip. Yeah. I wanted her. That should have been my
first clue that this little meeting wasn’t going to go how I wanted.  “I’m
good,” I said. “I can’t stay long, I need to get back to
The Den
. And I’m
guessing you don’t have a lot of time before this place fills up again. I gotta
say, I didn’t think I’d ever be caught dead in here.”

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t. And my father probably would have
thrown you out if you tried back in the day.”

I laughed at that. “That makes your dad a pretty smart guy. He
still back there?”

Nicole’s eyes grew dark and I knew I’d hit on something
painful. Well, shit. You really can’t pick your family, can you?

“No. He’s gone. But let’s talk about Doug. Tell me what I need
to know.”

That was an odd way of putting it, but smart too. Nicole might
be reckless, but I already knew she wasn’t stupid. I couldn’t tell her
everything. Part of the truce we had with the Brigands meant I couldn’t go
blabbing their business to someone who didn’t understand it. But I gave her the
highlights. She listened, her expression stoic. Only the slightest arch of a
single eyebrow showed her distress.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more to tell you. But Doug’s been seen
in the company of some pretty bad dudes, Nicole. And I’m guessing none of this
information comes as much of a shock to you. But I can tell you that these
particular bad dudes aren’t going to think twice about hurting Doug or more
importantly you if you get in their way.”

“So what do I do?” She slammed her back against the red
leather booth. “How do I get him out of it?”

“You don’t. You hear from him again? You call the cops and
tell them where they can find him. Let him get picked up. Guys like your
brother, a night in the county jail usually does the trick on straightening
them out.”

It was a lie, mostly. But I had to give her something. She
knew I was holding back. If I told her it was the Red Brigands, it could do
more harm than good.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, her bottom lip quivering for
just a fraction of a second before she composed herself again. “I think you
probably know exactly where to find him.”

“So what if I do? Look, you don’t know me. You didn’t really
know me fifteen years ago and you sure as shit don’t know me now. I’m sorry,
cupcake, but I can’t get involved with this one. And you really need to find a
way to stay out of it too. Your brother’s a grown man. If I’m right about his
type, this isn’t the first time he’s messed up his life and it probably won’t
be the last.”

No sooner had the words come out of my mouth that I wanted to
take them back. Well, not so much take them back, but soften them. Nicole
reared back, almost as if I’d slapped her. Fuck, I felt bad for it. But I’d
been honest.  I needed to get some distance from this particular jackpot.  For
half a second, I thought she was going to cry. Maybe she would have. But
something changed in her face as she stared me down across the table. Fury came
into her eyes, the emerald irises turning to steel.

“You made me a promise fifteen years ago that I intend to hold
you to.”

My blood simmered. Was she fucking serious? She was going to
try holding me to something I said when I was eighteen years old and thinking
about getting into her pants? But when the fire flashed in her eyes, it stirred
me again, just like it had all those years ago. Fuck. I still wanted into her
pants.

I leaned across the booth and took her wrists. I pulled her
across the table and got nose to nose with her. Her breath came hot, her
breasts heaved. I knew full fucking well that if I’d reached under the table,
I’d find her hot and wanting, just like the other day.

“And I seem to remember you making me an offer. Should I hold
you to that?”

Her mouth dropped open then formed a sexy little “o.” Dammit.
I could barely think straight around her.

“I don’t make promises or offers I don’t intend to keep.” Her
tone was flat, steady. She wasn’t going to back down, no matter what she
thought it might cost her. Yeah. It might not have been the most honorable
thing to think, but right then I thought about the sweet taste of her lips.
Both of them.

She fucking made me blink first.  I let out a hard breath and
loosened my grip on her wrists. I dropped one hand to the table, pounding my
fist hard enough that she jumped. I didn’t mean to scare her. Fuck. Maybe I
did. She should be scared. Of me. Of the Brigands. Of something, dammit.

“I can’t help Doug,” I said flatly. “And I can’t tell you why.
Not all of it anyway.”

She pulled her wrist out of my fingers. “Then we don’t have
anything left to talk about. I appreciate your time, Mr. Anderson.”

“Oh. Like that is it now?”

“Yes.” She hissed her answer. “You’d better leave. You were
right about what you said in the first place. Maybe people like you don’t
belong in a place like this.”

Fucking hell. She stood and stepped out of the booth, leaving
me there with my mouth hanging and my balls in a knot. I couldn’t blame her
though. Well, maybe a little. But no piece of ass was worth dragging my club
into a war that wasn’t ours. We’d figure out what to do, if anything, about the
Brigands showing up at
The Shires
, but that’s as much as I could afford
to get involved. As much as this chick stirred my blood and points lower down,
I had to get a handle on it quick.

I got up out of my seat and closed the distance between us.
Nicole’s breath hitched and she clenched her jaw hard as she craned her neck to
keep eye contact with me.

“Leave it alone, Nicole. That’s the best thing you can do.
Sometimes you can’t save the world.”

She blinked hard, but not before I saw her eyes start to
glisten. And I felt like an ass all over again.