Hot Mess (An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance Book 5) (3 page)

T
en minutes later
, Bunny and I are cuddled in one of the battered leather couches of the meeting room with a glass of iced tea for her and a beer for me.

Color is back in her face, and she's munching on crackers I found behind the bar.

"So?" I ask tentatively.

"Yeah, I got knocked up," she admits reluctantly, stuffing another cracker in her mouth. "God, it makes me hungry
all the time.
I'm going to end up looking like a blimp."

"But you'll be the sexiest blimp around," I tell her.

She shakes her head sadly, showing she doesn't believe me for a second. I wait for her to tell me more. I'm certain she knows who the father is. She's a wild one, but not so wild as to string several guys along at the same time.

Bunny looks away, and I decide to give her a few minutes before I stop pussyfooting around her.

"There was this bar next to the campus," she begins. "It was a biker's hangout and they hired me 'cause, you know, I could handle it all and most importantly, I could be trusted to keep my mouth shut."

She blinks several times as if chasing fresh tears, and I hold her tighter against me. I love this woman and seeing her so heartbroken tears me apart. Bunny is my best friend. When I say it in public, guys snicker. They don't believe that men and women can be friends. Well, we're proof of the contrary. We were madly in love once, like teenagers can be, but somehow we grew out of it. Our initial passion morphed in time into a more simple, almost sibling, sort of love.

"He's a Knight," she whispers.

"A Category 5 Knight?" I ask and she nods.

The Knights are a southern MC like the Iron Tornadoes. And like us, they're mainly decent men. Of course out of greed, they sometime do stupid things like get associated with unsavory groups, but basically they're all right. They've always had a chapter in the area, and so far, we've never had bad blood.

"Does he know?"

She shakes her head and says, "He's a nomad. By the time I figured it out, he was gone." She shrugs, which is her way to say "shit happens" and I kiss her forehead again.

"He said he would be back within a month or two, but I guess he got held up somewhere, 'cause the summer term was over and he was a no-show. Maybe he decided to settle in a western chapter. Maybe he got arrested for doing stupid shit. Maybe... Anyway, I was done with college and I figured ..."

She pauses and I finish her sentence for her. “You figured right. You'll be fine here. We'll take care of you."

"I know you will. The Tornadoes are my family. I should have known better than to fall in love with a stranger."

"As if we have any choice in the matter," I tell her ruffling her hair gently. "If only we could command this ..."

It's my turn to leave a sentence unfinished because she knows. We're perfect for each other. We grew up in the same world, we have the same values, the same beliefs, in bed we were amazing, but the magic is gone and we respect each other enough not to lie about it.

Staying together would be convenient, but we both deserve better than that.

"So what's his name?" I ask after a minute of silence.

"Doc." She gives a sad smile. "He served somewhere." A broad gesture of her hands indicates she has no clue where. I'm not surprised; geography was never her thing. "Seems he was a good medic, so the nickname stuck after he became a civilian again."

I nod and understand the need to drift better. It's common for men to crave the freedom of being a nomad after years in the military.

"What about a real name?"

She shrugs again. "I think I heard one of his brothers call him Gab once, so it could be Gabriel, I guess."

"Okay." It's not much intel, but enough to reach out to the Knights and figure out who the guy is.

She frowns at me and shakes a menacing finger. "Everest, you've got to promise me you won't give him any trouble."

"I promise." I can do it with a light heart 'cause I won't cause any trouble at all. What I may do - will do - is reach out to the man. He has a right to know. I figure if I had knocked someone up, I would wanna know.

Of course, I won't tell her about it. No use breaking her heart a second time if he turns out to be a rat who doesn't want anything to do with her and the kid.

We remain together for the rest of the afternoon, Bunny resting with her head on my lap, and me staring into the distance.

The noise of the party outside makes a nice background sound. Kids laughing, men taunting each other. It's one of the things I love about this community. We're a weird bunch, but then it's probably the case with most extended families.

Bunny tells me about college and her plans for the future. Well, the immediate future. She's got a job, at least for the next six month or so. She's almost finished with the first quarter and her health insurance should kick in before the due date. Bunny had me patting her tummy to feel for her precious bump when Earplugs comes looking for us with Kristal in tow.

Shit, I had totally forgotten about her.

As they both walk in the room, Kristal watches us intently while Earplugs tells me he'll drop my ride at the Styx later tonight.

Bunny and I stand, and when my sweet friend sends me off with a peck on the lips, I think I read something interesting in Kristal's eye. It can't be jealousy, per se, since we barely know each other, but it's a close cousin.

Good.

From where Kristal stands, it sure looks like Bunny and I are a couple. I smirk. Maybe it's better that way. Kristal is nothing but trouble, very tempting trouble. It will be for the best if we keep some distance.

Who am I kidding?

* * *

K
ristal is
silent during the drive to Styx. I'm driving her car. It's a tiny little thing with New York plates more suited for city streets than Florida roads. If she gets caught in a storm, her engine will drown and leave her stranded.

The backseat is hidden under a pile of rumpled clothes. Looks like she's been living in her car while coming south and maybe since she arrived. The open ashtray is filled with credit card receipts. Earplugs has sorted and clipped them together. The earlier ones show the route she followed to drive south. The last one was used to get gas in Miami on Monday, yesterday.

She doesn't comment, but she frowns at my nosiness as I take advantage of a red light to flip through the bundle. Silently, she crosses her arms in a defensive position and stares at the road. Her eyes widen when we reach our destination. The building doesn't look like much. Solid concrete walls with no other openings than two doors on opposite sides of the facade. There's access to covered parking in the back, but unless a tropical storm hits, we never think about using it.

No one could imagine from the outside that it's anything else than a warehouse, or guess that inside it's all glass. Full floor to ceiling windows open on the inside to a lush green patio.

I love it here. The Styx is my oasis. It's actually home. There are four apartments on the top floor. One is mine, one is Patricia's. The two others are empty right now, but will be rented out at top price to some Palm Beach royalty when the season starts.

"What sort of place is this?" Kristen asks.

"A sex club." No use being coy. "But don't you worry, you heard my brother. It's closed on Mondays."

"What makes you think a sex club would frighten me?" Her surprise seems genuine.

I laugh. "Well, I guess I shouldn't presume." But then I do that again since I ask her, "Sub or switch?"

"Neither," she shrugs and explains, "I was a dancing barmaid in an upscale club in Manhattan."

"All work and no play?"

"You can say that again."

I'm not sure I believe her. Usually club managers attempt to hire staff that is interested in the lifestyle. It makes things easier to manage when the employees going about their jobs are not judgmental.

"And you were never tempted to explore?"

Kristal deflects my question by jumping out of the car. She opens the back door and sighs. "Can I take a bag for the night?" she asks.

"Sure. What do you want?"

I open the backpack she points to and carry out a quick search. There's a change of clothes, papers in a large plastic folder, and toiletries. I pick up the bag and gesture for her to follow me.

The main door opens to Patricia, our resident dungeon mistress. Dressed in civilian clothes, she invites us in and locks the heavy door behind us.

Patricia's a loyal member of the Tornadoes. Initially hired to be the admin of the Friendly Persuasion P.I. Agency, she left that job to rule the club.

Even Cracker recognizes she's the most efficient, and that it makes sense to have her manage the place instead of going through a rotation of unwilling
volunteers
.

"Daniel called to tell me you were coming." Pat seldom refers to her pet boy by his road name. Can't figure out why since Earplugs is not a bad nickname. "And Ice suggested that your guest be given the red room."

We follow her through the dim hallways until we reach the designated room. Patricia opens the door and turns on a pale light which gives a true cozy feeling to the space.

"Here's your domain for the night," she says. "The bathroom is fully stocked as well as the mini-fridge."

Kristal stands incredulous at the edge of the door. "That's my room?" Pat smiles and nods. "Oh, wow!"

Either the club she worked at was not as fancy as ours, or she never went past the public area.

Kristal cautiously enters the room, drops her bag at the foot of the bed and continues to the French doors. She pulls the curtains open and looks into the garden. The palm trees and shimmering water of the pool make for a spectacular view, especially at dusk when all the red lanterns turn on and reflect on the surface. Hand on the handle, she turns and asks Patricia, "Is it okay if I sit outside for a while?"

Patricia glances in my direction. My turn to shrug. "If it's all right with you, it's fine with me. She's been locked up all day."

"Then be my guest, enjoy the place." Patricia is about to close the door when she thinks to add, "You can even take a dive in the pool if you want." I'm unsure if Kristal heard her since she's already out and exploring the inner part of the building.

Once the door closes behind us and we're walking in the hallway, Patricia says, "Funny, I wouldn't have pegged her as a pusher, and I flatter myself to have great instincts about people."

That Patricia is. If she had cared to study, she could have become an extraordinary therapist. But school was not her thing. She's one of those crazy smart people who managed not to get a high school diploma. Still, her talent is not wasted here. Her people skills are most useful in her new position.

"That's what I thought too," I admit. "But then when I look at her, I'm not certain my brains fully engage."

Patricia raises an amused eyebrow but doesn't comment at my confession. We remain silent until we reach the monitoring room. She presses a few switches and a couple of screens come to life. To insure the safety of all members, there are cameras all over the club. The equipment is state-of-the-art with good mics. The staff on supervision duty needs to be able to check if a sub is calling her safe word or just playing along.

"Ice instructed me to open a phone line in her room," Patricia says.

Good thinking. If Kristal realizes the phone is connected, she may try to reach out to someone and give us clues on the identity of those who seem to scare her so much.

"Do you want some company?" Patricia asks.

"No. Thanks, I’ll be fine. I'm sure you have better things to do than babysit me." Patricia laughs at the very concept of watching over me and nods. "I'm going to stay a while. Well, until she falls asleep and then I'll get some shut eye as well."

She says, "If you want, instead of climbing up to your place, you could sleep in a room downstairs. They're all clean. You can have your pick. I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

"Sure." I turn to look at the screens.

Pat lingers in the room watching Kristal kneel by the pool to test the water. "She seems like a sweet girl," she observes. "What do you think is going to happen to her?"

"Damned if I know," I grumble. "But no matter what happens tomorrow, she's looking at time." I think for a minute before I continue. "She's made bad choices, and she'll have to pay the price. Now the question is, will she help us help her, or is she going to dig herself into a deeper hole."

I turn and realize I'm talking to myself.

Pat is gone.

* * *