Ridin' Dirty: An Outlaw Author Anthology (OAMC Book 1) (37 page)

Tippy

I inhaled as I entered the gun store, and told my inner deer to chill the fuck out. Yeah, there were wolves and a grizzly bear here, but they weren’t going to eat a paying customer.

The new RTMC range has an underground one-hundred yard facility, and I was overriding the deer’s aversion to predators in order to come here to shoot instead of enduring thirty-degree weather in my backyard. I’d bought a house in the sticks with enough acreage to make my own range, but I had to admit it was nice to come to a professional range in midwinter.

I grinned at Horse as I walked in, but then did a double-take. The range didn’t open until two on Saturdays because there were classes in there. Horse taught the classes, so…

“Why aren’t you teaching? Are your enrollment numbers down? I thought y’all had to add to the schedule because you had so many people signing up?”

“Got a new teacher. Ex-military sniper, and he’s teaching a rifle class this morning. We’re outfitting a new classroom so I can teach handguns while he handles the rifle side. Until then, we’ll just do one or the other, like before when it was just me teaching.”

“It’s afternoon, Horse.”

He chuckled. “Still morning to those of us who partied until practically dawn.”

I shook my head and walked toward the display cases. “Got anything new in?”

He showed me a few carry-sized pistols, and then I wandered over to the gun sights and we discussed some of the new lighter-weight options. We were deep into conversation when I smelled a handful of humans and a wolf I didn’t recognize by scent, but I forced myself to remain calm and focus on the conversation with Horse. The wolf talked to the people in his class as he walked them out, helped someone choose between range bags, and then walked over to us.

I glanced at him as he neared, and then looked at Horse, hoping the wolf wouldn’t talk to me if I didn’t appear interested. He had a close trimmed beard and thick hair my fingers
itched
to fondle, and his self-assured cocky stride made me want to watch him walk while my deer wanted to turn and run.

He stepped close enough to us it would’ve been rude for me to continue looking at Horse, so I turned toward him and tried to look normal.

“You’re Tiffany Mason.”

I took three steps back as adrenaline flooded my system, but I stood straighter and told him, “Tippy. Friends call me Tippy. How do you know who I am?”

He gave me a wry grin. “Watched you in the Olympics, saw you on the medal stand. What are you doing in Chattanooga?”

“Olympics?” Horse asked, his voice gentle as if he didn’t want to make me any more skittish.

“I’m fine, Horse. Don’t treat me with kid gloves. Yeah, I shot competition and have lots of medals and trophies, but I retired from that life.”

“If you’d told me your history I wouldn’t have made you take the class before you could use the range, Tip.”

I shrugged towards Horse without explaining why I didn’t like to broadcast my history and make myself the person to beat. I met the new guy’s gaze and asked, “You know who I am — perhaps you’ll introduce yourself?”

“I’m Nix.”

“Another nickname, I assume?” He wasn’t wearing an RTMC vest, but Horse told me they didn’t in the gun store, on the advice of a couple of attorneys.

He nodded. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were buying.”

“I came for the range. I’ll just pay for my targets and go shoot.”

I spent time in both the rifle and pistol ranges, and it was nearly five o’clock when I finally came back out front.

Nix

I smelled her as she came down the hallway toward the front of the store, and arranged to be in her way as she walked through.

I’d been in town two months, ample time to become friends with the local MC members enough they offered me a Chattanooga patch — and to get to know the city so I could manage a decent date. Maybe. My favorite restaurants serve large quantities of meat, but Horse’s girl is a rabbit shifter and when they’ve invited me to lunch we’ve gone places with good organic greens and veggies on the menu. As a bonus, some of these places have grass fed beef, which is
so
much better than the crap from factory farms.

She stopped and looked up when I blocked her way and I wished she wasn’t so afraid of me. I took a step back in the hopes I’d ease her skittishness as I asked, “I was thinking of heading to The Village House for dinner, would you like to join me?”

She shook her head. “Unless you made reservations weeks ago, you won’t get in.”

“If I can get us in, will you join me for dinner?”

She looked at me a few seconds before asking, “Why?”

“I could blow smoke up your ass and tell you I’ve only been in town a few months and all of my friends are in the MC and I’d like to branch out, and that’s true enough it wouldn’t come off as a lie… but if I’m honest then I’ll tell you I’d like to get to know you.” I shrugged. “I won’t hurt you, and neither will anyone else when you’re with me.” And I wouldn’t fuck her until I was sure she wasn’t related to local LEO, but I didn’t say that part, yet.

“No one in town knows who I really am,” she told me, her voice soft. “I like to keep a low profile. Dating someone in your MC is the opposite of…” She shook her head. “I’m really sorry, but—”

“Dinner, Tippy. We can drive separately, or if you don’t want to deal with parking you can ride on my bike and I’ll bring you back here when we finish. I’m not asking you to marry me.” I searched my brain for something I could use to entice her. “I have a new .338 Lapua Magnum I plan to play around with tomorrow, and I have a two mile range at my house. Have dinner with me, and if I don’t scare you too bad, you’re welcome to come shoot with me tomorrow.”

“A two-mile range?”

I nodded and she said, “Longest confirmed kills are in the one-and-a-half-mile range.”

“And the fact you know this off the top of your head,
and
you know what kind of gun I was talking about without my having to explain, are two of the reasons I’d like to take you to dinner.”

Her smile was adorably shy as she told me, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing what you can do on a two-mile range.”

I had a feeling I’d get farther with Tippy by giving in, so I told her, “I won’t hold dinner hostage. You can come tomorrow whether you grace me with your presence this evening or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “My car and gear will probably be safer in front of the RTMC gun store than at the restaurant, so I’ll ride with you. Just let me stow everything in the trunk.”

I followed her out and watched from a few feet away as she put her weapons and range bag in the trunk of her Audi RS5. She was stowing around twenty thousand dollars’ worth of weapons into a seventy thousand dollar car, and I tried to sound casual as I said, “Apparently, whatever you do now pays quite well.”

“You’re a car guy
and
a gun guy?”

“V8, seven speed transmission.” I looked at her, debating whether to add my thoughts. “It’s what someone who wants a precision machine—but doesn’t want to draw attention to themselves—would drive.”

She glanced at me before strapping everything in and closing the trunk. “Guilty. Like I said, I like to keep a low profile.”

I nodded. “Okay then, I won’t wear my colors at dinner.”

“Colors?”

“My RTMC vest.”

Her face went bright red at the thoughts of being with someone who drew attention to himself, and I chuckled. “I have a helmet for you to wear. Let’s go through the store to the back.”

Tippy

I’d expected a racing bike, but Nix had a huge motorcycle with an awesome seat for me behind him.

I knew the engine was going to be loud, but I wasn’t expecting it to vibrate so much when he started it, and he patted my arm at my fear when the bike roared to life.

I wrapped my arms around him — probably tighter than necessary — and he slowly pulled through the parking lot and maneuvered out into traffic.

I’d never really considered how vulnerable bikers are, driving amongst cars, but I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me and there was no way to hide. The cars, trucks, and SUVs around us seemed more like armored tanks, and when we finally parked five or ten minutes later my nerves were shot.

Why had I thought a short ride through town on a motorcycle was doable?

He helped me get my helmet off as he said, “I’m sorry you were so scared. Is there anything I can do to keep from scaring you so much on the way back?”

Damned wolf senses. He could smell my deer’s terror. I took a breath and resolved to get my fear under control as I told him, “I’m okay. It’s a new experience and I guess I just hadn’t expected to feel so… naked… amongst the cars.” I tend to stutter when I’m scared sometimes, so I’ve learned to stop talking and form my words carefully.

I smelled wolf arousal a split second after I said the word
naked
, and I turned away and blushed. I’m not a sexual prude, but I wasn’t prepared to deal with sexual tension with a wolf. Talk about the
king
of all bad ideas.

“C’mon, my darling little deer. Let’s get some food in us.”

He didn’t sound patronizing, thank goodness, and I turned to him and let him walk me into the restaurant, his hand at the small of my back.

Somehow, in the short time I’d known him, I’d started seeing him as protector rather than predator. His hand at my back meant safety, not danger.

It still didn’t mean sex was a good idea, though.

I expected a long wait, because no way did he just happen to have reservations. However, as soon as the hostess saw us walk in the door she smiled and said, “Nix, Sally said to expect you. We’re clearing a table near the back now. Follow me, please.”

Once we were seated and alone, I asked, “Who’s Sally?”

“The manager. I called while you were in the range and told her I might be by for dinner, and Horse texted her once you said you’d eat with me, to let her know we were on the way.”

“How do you know her?”

“This is a favorite restaurant for several of our members, so we installed their security system and give them a deep discount to monitor them. We’ve put the restaurant under our formal protection, and they make sure they can fit us in when we get a hankering for farm-to-table goodness.”

I shook my head and changed the conversation. “I’m not the only one with expensive toys. Depending on how you have it tricked out, I’m guessing you have at least ten grand in your .338 Lapua.”

“And you stowed about twice that amount in weaponry in the back of your seventy grand car.”

“I bought it used, with fifteen thousand miles on it so I didn’t pay full price. As for the weapons…” How much should I tell him? I wasn’t prepared to tell him too many personal details, so I hedged with, “For a variety of reasons, I didn’t pay retail for most of them, either.”

“You’ve traveled around the world to compete, what made you settle in Chattanooga?”

“I have family in the Deer enclave in Northeast Alabama, and I own property just over the Georgia line, past St. Elmo.” Most Deer can’t handle living in human society. Our freeze-or-flee instinct pretty much paralyzes us, but I’d made the decision to fight past it so I could live my dream of shooting in the Olympics. It wasn’t easy, and still isn’t, but I prefer living outside the safety of the enclaves.

He sat back and looked at me a few seconds before saying, “Full disclosure. I had our resident computer geek tell me what he could legally find out about you, while you were in the range.”

My heart sped and my breathing went shallow, and I forced myself to take a deep breath and let it out, and then take another before I asked, “Do I dare ask what he found out?’

“Mason was your maiden name. You married and divorced, but kept his name, probably to try to stay under the radar so people wouldn’t recognize you as Tiffany Mason the Olympian. You go by Tippy Delfino, now.”

I took a sip of water to try to stay calm. “What else did he find out?”

“Tippy Delfino is a gunsmith who specializes in custom work and has a number of federal dealer licenses, which is why you don’t pay retail for your weapons, and it’s why two of the custom guns I saw didn’t cost anywhere near what they would if you’d payed a gunsmith to make. You made them.”

I nodded. “So, that’s
three
people in town who know who I am?” Nix, Horse, and now their computer geek. I’d hidden for so long, and my heart was in my stomach as I worried what this might mean for my anonymity.

“My turn to tell you some private stuff.” He took a breath and let it out. “I was in the RTMC in Asheville, and met a sweet girl in a bar. It was one of those clubs that lets people in as long as they’re eighteen, and stamps people based on whether they can have alcohol or not. They bring in live bands—up-and-coming-talent—and the cover charge is substantial so I guess it’s worth the hassle to bring in those extra people.” He shrugged, fiddled with his hands, and then settled them on his legs. “She’d just turned eighteen and was there celebrating with friends. She was still in high school, but I didn’t ask about that. In my defense, I asked to look at her driver’s license, and questioned her to be sure she wasn’t a minor before I fucked her.”

“I was in the Olympics in 2012 and my age was listed, so you didn’t have to ask someone to dig into my background to be sure I’m of legal age to have sex with.”

“She was the Chief of Police’s daughter. Their last name is Johnson, common enough I didn’t associate her with her father.”

“But she was legal, what could he do?”

“Instruct the officers to pull me over every time they saw me on the road, and to stop me and question me if they saw me when I wasn’t driving.” He leaned forward again, but slow, as if he was being careful not to startle me. “I was pulled over within a few miles of leaving home just about every day, and was often pulled over four or five times a day. I was searched and questioned, sometimes for an hour or more. I wanted to sue the city for harassment — I figured I could get a few dozen videos and have a decent case, but my MC wanted me to just move to another state. The city leaders had gotten along with us before, but the entire club lost the goodwill we’d gained with our local officers.” I could see the conflict in his eyes, could smell his anger, but it clearly wasn’t directed at me. “I’m not in the habit of running from trouble, but for the good of the club I agreed my President could put the word out to see if another city might need my services. It turned out Duke and Brain—the President and VP here—were looking for someone to help with the gun store, especially someone qualified to teach.”

“You were a sniper in the military?”

He nodded.

“Don’t they usually hold onto snipers until they’re a lot older than you?”

“They offered me a lot of money at the end of my last enlistment period, and when I turned it down they added about thirty percent to the amount, but I just couldn’t…” He shook his head. “I can kill people from more than a mile away. You get that, right?”

I nodded.

“It was time for me to leave. While I still had my soul.”

“You’re telling me a lot about yourself. I have a feeling you don’t do that very often.”

He shook his head. “My sister is the only female I’ve told any of this to, before you.”

“Does she live in Asheville?”

“No, she’s in Atlanta.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Small town about an hour south of Asheville. They were proud of their son the soldier, but not so much of their son the biker.”

“I’m sorry. You’re the same person — probably a better person, now that you aren’t being ordered to kill people for a living.”

He gave me a wry smile. “So it was the wolf part you had a problem with, and not the biker part?”

I shrugged. “More wolf than biker, but some of both. I have to be careful I don’t do anything to jeopardize my various licenses and clearances, but I assume you aren’t a felon since you’re working in the gun store, and with your ex-military status—especially being a sniper—you have to be incredibly self-disciplined. So, while I’m not sure about the biker part, it’s really more the wolf…” I rolled my eyes. “Somehow though, you’ve made me feel as if the wolf will keep me safe instead of eating me. No predator species has
ever
managed that, before. I can be around Horse, and the various Wolves in the gun store, but I’m always on edge around them. I have a range at home, but you have the only indoor long-distance range in town, so I bought the membership in spite of the fact there’s almost always a grizzly bear and a few wolves hanging around.”

“Ask your question.”

“How do you know I have a question I’m not asking?”

“Do you?”

“I have several.”

“So ask. You get a pass on asking rude questions since I poked into your past.”

“My deer was initially terrified of your wolf. I overrode the instinct to run, but…does the opposite hold true? Does your wolf smell me and want to rip into my throat?”

“You in particular? No. My wolf smelled your fear and usually wants to attack anything afraid, but he didn’t with you. Maybe it’s because we could smell your resolve, too? Also, even though you were afraid, you had a loaded weapon on your hip and I knew you’d use it to defend yourself. Deer or not, you weren’t easy prey.”

He said I got a pass on rude questions, so I asked the one I’d bitten back earlier. “When I said you no longer have to kill for a living, I got an odd vibe off you. Why? Do you still kill people for a living?”

“For a living? No. I teach classes and work in the gun store for a living.”

“But you still have to kill sometimes as part of… what?”

He looked at me a few seconds before he finally said, “In the military, you get orders to take someone out and no one has to explain. Sometimes you know why they need to die, but often you have no idea who the person is, much less what they’ve done or might do. You’re given several photographs of the target and sometimes you’re told what they’re wearing — and you’re sent to take the target out.”

He hadn’t answered my question, so I waited for him to put his thoughts together. “I found out the chain of command sent me to kill someone not because they were a threat to the country I’d agreed to fight and kill for, but because they were a threat to someone’s political career. Because it was a classified mission, my options for proving this were extremely limited.” He shrugged. “I made sure the politician was sunk on another matter, so his career ended anyway, but that was all I could do to try to make it right.” I could hear and smell his sadness and anger. “A career for a life. Sucks, but I wasn’t going to take away someone else’s father to try to make it even. More death wasn’t the answer.”

“So, you’d still kill now if you felt there was a good reason the person needed to die? Leaving the military just gave you the right of refusal? Is that it?”

“I’m not saying I’ll never answer that question, but I don’t think I want to just yet.”

“When you kill something, it can be said you nix it. Is that what your nickname means?”

He nodded, his eyes wary, and I searched my mind for a way to change the conversation but he beat me to it. “You shot a .22 in the Olympics, but had larger caliber weapons today. It’s almost like you’ve changed the focus but are still in training.”

“I’ve done some IDPA stuff because they keep it practical. Most competitions turn into something that gives you no real-life skills, but the IDPA’s rules don’t allow people to create specialized race guns. You’re competing based on mostly skill and not who can afford the best technology. Mostly, I want to be able to defend myself and my home. Plus, I enjoy being as good as I can be. The challenge of dialing your weapon in so you can hit something at a hundred yards means a ten yard shot is a piece of cake.”

“And if I can walk you through hitting a bullseye at a half-mile tomorrow?”

I did the math in my head, “That’s just under 900 yards, right? I’ve played around on a three hundred yard range a few times. I can’t imagine tripling the distance.”

“Like you said, at a certain point it becomes the person relying on technology, but in this case, without a good deal of skill and knowledge, the technology won’t be much help.” He shrugged. “I know the kind of precision shooting it takes to make it to the Olympics, much less come home with a silver medal. You have to know your weapon inside and out, know which ammunition works best when it’s cold, when it’s warm, when there’s humidity in the air versus dry air. Hell, even the altitude can change the trajectory. All this plays into what a sniper has to consider, too. You already know a lot of what a sniper has to know, you just have to apply it with a slightly different mindset. If I can’t get you dialed in at a half-mile tomorrow, I suck as a teacher.”