ROMANCE: MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Biker's Baby (Bad Boy Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance) (Contemporary MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (125 page)

It was surprisingly dead in the diner for a Sunday morning.

“Then I found this.”

He slapped a newspaper down on the table in front of him.  My photo was plastered all over it; it was something I tried my hardest to forget.

“You’re a riddle, Jennie.  I can’t figure you out.  I wanted to think that I did and that I might be able to get things back to the way they were.  Why didn’t you tell me where you came from, I wouldn’t have treated you any differently.”

I sighed.

“Listen, Mike, I wanted to tell you every day, but I also didn’t want that life.  They were forcing me into a marriage, and I won’t marry someone I barely know.”

“Jennie, you’re a character.  You have all this money and opportunity, and you decide that it would be better to walk away and live on a farm?”

I giggled at the thought.

“Jennie, I love you.  You mean the world to me.  I can’t think of what my life would be like without you and the baby in it.  If you don’t want me in your life then that’s your choice, I’m not your family, I won’t force you to do something you don’t want to.  But, if there’s a slight possibility that you’d be interested in spending your life with me, you’d make me the happiest man alive.”

I looked at him, tears starting to well up behind my eyes again; he still was the best man that I knew.

“When you marry for money, you marry for the wrong reasons.  I don’t want a dime of your fortune, Mike.  I never did.  You just wouldn’t listen to me when I was talking.”

Mike lowered his head, a bit defeated.  Then two large hands patted him on the back; Larry and Buck were regulars on Sunday morning, I just didn’t want to tell Mike.

“Guys,” he said, “I can’t believe you two are here right now.”

They all embraced each other in a hug.

“We both knew that you and Jennie were shacking up whenever you went into town.  It’s not that hard to figure out, and neither of you did a good job of hiding it,” Buck said.

“We weren’t looking for a bunch of money, we just wanted to work with you again, Mike.  I am not looking for a free meal, I’m lookin’ for a good job,” Larry added.

I walked around the diner countertop and joined the group.  Mike pulled me in for a warm embrace in the odd group and let out a laugh.

“So, does this mean we’re all getting’ back together?” he asked.

“Only under one condition,” I said.

I whispered in Mike’s ear, and I think he got it because he pulled out his phone and started making calls right away.

It was maybe a week later when we all met up again. This time, Mike picked me up in the same old truck we had driven into town before.  I sat in the same seat I always had, with the same tears covered in tape. 

I could see the small house off in the horizon.  The white dot in the middle of a vast landscape, with a barn sitting off to the side, invited me closer. 

The house looked identical to the old ranch house we’d spent so much time in.  Except everything was newer. The walls were finally repainted, the leaks in the roof were covered, and I couldn’t have been happier.

I was finally home.

*****

THE END

Here is a FREE bonus 10.000 word romance story by Tyra Hughes, “The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Tyra’s Story”

''It's okay, Tyra, hold on to me,'' Natalie said as Tyra collapsed into her arms.

Father Smith had told me it would be like this, Tyra thought. But which of the emotions had he meant? The Grief or the guilt? Tyra was experiencing both. Two of the most powerful human emotions were wracking through her at will.

''Tyra, we're so sorry for your loss.'' Tyra lifted her head from Natalie's shoulder. It was Mr. and Mrs. Radley Samuels, Tyra's boss and his wife.

''Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.'' Tyra didn't think she could speak, but the words came out somehow. Natalie handed her another tissue and for a moment, Tyra could see clearly again. She looked to her left and saw a line of mourners waiting to express their condolences to her.

''If only I hadn't been so selfish,'' Tyra said to Natalie as they walked up the cemetery path. It had taken an eternity to work through the line of those seeking to express their condolences and Tyra was exhausted. ''It was foggy, and I knew dad didn't want to drive that day. It was me. Me moaning that they hadn't been to see me in my new home in the city. Lord knows, I think I even suggested they weren't interested in me anymore.'' She held onto Natalie again as another insufferable wave of guilt rammed at her. ''No, I killed them. Dad would never have taken mom out in the car on a day like normally.'' Natalie didn't know how to comfort her friend. They were both just twenty-three and beginning to make their way in the world. Losing parents wasn't supposed to happen until later in life.

*****

Three weeks after the funeral, Tyra stood outside the jewelry store on West 47th Street and looked at it, really looked at it, for the first time. I've been working here for seven months, and this is the first time I've properly taken the place in, she thought. Grief-stricken and riddled with guilt; she felt her senses had become sharper since the passing of her parents. It was as if someone was making her take notice of the world. Making her appreciate what can so easily be torn away from you, in an instant.

West 47th Street was full of jewelry shops, but none as grand as J.P Samuels. They might as well have called it, '
Jewelers to the rich and famous,'
she thought. For that's what it was. A place where the rich came to gorge on expensive stones. The front of the store was imposing. Between the cleanest store windows in New York, there were columns of polished black granite. The entrance was in the middle of the store and it too was surrounded by shiny black stone. The door itself was made of bulletproof, reinforced glass. What Tyra liked best about the facade was the sign. It was made of copper and ran the length of the store. The background was dark and the letters that had been forged onto it were polished and stood out better than any other letters on the street.

''Welcome back Tyra. I'm so sorry to hear about your mom and dad,'' Leon said. ''Thanks, Leon. It's very brave of you to say so.'' She'd found that most people just turned away from her, not knowing what to say. Not Leon. It was his job to stand inside the door and keep out the undesirables. He was perfectly equipped to do so at six feet seven and two hundred and fifty pounds, but it involved hours standing in the same place, day after day.

''Tyra, my girl,'' Radley Samuel's said. He'd been waiting for her. Normally, he didn't stand in the shop.

He had others to do that for him. His job was managing the business that his grandfather had started. ''Come with me.''

Tyra followed him through the store. They walked past glass cabinets filled with beautiful necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, and watches. At the back of the store, they went through a door and down a corridor. The first door on the right led to a security room. Tyra had never been in the room, but she had seen inside once when the door had been open. It was full of monitors and the latest lock down systems. It was all hi-tech, and she had no idea about any of it.

Radley pushed open the first door on the left and showed her into his office. How can anyone spend hours in an office with no daylight? she wondered. There were pictures of his ancestors on one wall and a giant flora vase in the corner. What she liked most about his office was the carpet. It was deep red with the company crest woven into it.

''Tyra, please sit down.'' He pointed to a button backed armchair that stood in front of his mahogany desk. ''I want you to tell me how you are feeling. You've been through a lot, and I want to make sure you’re feeling up to working again.'' I wish I had a daughter like her, she's so graceful and kind, yet determined and motivated, he thought.

''Well, honestly speaking, I'm still feeling awful.'' You can tell him everything; he cares for you, she told herself as a moment of doubt crept into her mind. ''I weep a lot, especially in the evening and I feel guilty. So guilty.'' She noticed how closely he was listening to her. The furrows on his forehead were deep with concern for her, and his eyes were looking directly into hers, seeking any sign that a return to work may be too early.

''There is nothing I can say to you that will make you feel better. All I can do is tell you what happened to me when my son was killed.'' Killed? I didn't know he'd had a son, she thought. The thought that someone close to her had also suffered such a loss made her feel better.

''My son was only nineteen. He was studying business at New York University and working here at the weekends.'' He stopped talking for a moment, took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead. Tyra knew him to be fifty-nine. He was quite tall and very thin. It was as if he was so involved in his business he forgot to eat.

He looked at her with a pained expression as he continued. ''One morning, he left home to go to college, and he never came back again. A man who had been drinking all night decided to get into his car and drive to the girlfriend he had left for dead in her apartment the previous evening. When he fell asleep at the wheel, it was my son he hit.'' Tyra noticed a crack in his voice. ''Walking down the street minding his own business.'' He took the handkerchief and blew his nose.

''Oh my God, that's awful,'' Tyra put her hand to her mouth.

He nodded. Perhaps I shouldn't have burdened her with this, he thought. ''At first, everything was a blur. It was only after the funeral had taken place that it really hit me. After the funeral, everyone seems to disappear. All the kind words and supporting arms are no longer there. You are suddenly alone.'' He ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and looked towards a photo on his desk. Tyra couldn't see who it was. She assumed his son.

''The Undertaker had warned me about it. A deep hole, he'd called it, and I fell into it.'' When he paused, Tyra thought about where she was mentally and recognized what he was describing. ''The Undertaker also explained that there is something called the cycle of grief. You go through stages of grief, and if you are lucky, eventually come out the other end. The last stage is called the acceptance stage. You stop all the blaming and come to terms with what's happened. Of course, you're still sad, but it gets easier.''

''It's very kind of you to tell me this. I had no idea. I was afraid I would have this level of pain for the rest of my life.'' Tyra looked at her hands. Her nails used to be so manicured, she thought.

''When I employed you, Tyra, I saw something in you. You are one of life's good people. I can see you care about people. When you talk to clients, you are patient, and most importantly, you listen to them. Did you know I have no relatives?''

Tyra shook her head.

''No.''

''Well, I don't. Not one, and no friends. There's only my wife and me.'' He looked at her, and wondered what he was about to say, would do to her. ''I am going to leave the business to you.'' He stared at her, not wanting to miss her reaction.

''Pardon?' Tyra said. She wasn't really in the mood for jokes.

''I am going to leave the business to you,'' he repeated.

What the hell is he playing at? This isn't funny, doesn't he know I've just buried my parents. She went to stand up, but he put up his hand and stopped her.

''For the last time, Tyra. You will inherit this business.'' Someone knocked on the door; it was his wife. ''Tell her Eliana, she doesn't believe me.''

''How are you, Tyra? We are very worried about you?'' she said ignoring her husband's plea for help.

''I've been better.'' What are they playing at, surely Jewish people don't give things away like this, she thought?

''My husband, as you know, isn't given to pranks. We have decided to leave it to you. Of course, you are young, and you have only just started in the business, but we see you have got what it takes.'' She put her hand on Tyra's shoulder and looked her into her eyes. ''You are intelligent, and you have an enormous appetite for the business. We have never seen anyone with your enthusiasm. We are both sixty next year and all we have done with our lives is sit in this store.'' She looked at her husband and gave him an assertive nod. ''In five years time, we will retire and travel. You will take over as manager, and when we die, it will all be yours. Take the time between now and then to learn all you can about the business.''

''Are you okay to come back to work?'' Radley asked. Tyra looked at him and burst into tears. It was a gesture so great that her emotions overflowed.

Eliana sat on the chair arm and put her arm around her. ''You have been through a lot, but you have us, and we will help you all we can.''

*****

Tyra started up Google and typed in:
'The Hope Diamond'
She read: Value $350 million dollars, 45 karats, 9.1 grams. ''Three hundred and fifty million dollars,'' she whispered under her breath.

She and Radley had agreed that she would work in the shop four days a week and spend the other two days shadowing him. He' made a list of things he had to teach her. He hadn't realized how long the list would prove to be. One thing he couldn't teach her was diamond cutting. While he was an expert at grading and valuing gems, he'd never enjoyed using tools. Tyra had told him that she'd go to college in her own time and learn.

''How do you like your desk?'' Radley asked as he poked his head into her new office. Tyra wondered if the room had been intended as a broom cupboard when the place was built, but she didn't want to complain. She was grateful it had a window and more than grateful that the Samuels had seen so much potential in her.

''Lovely thanks. I was just looking up information on the Hope Diamond. It really is quite spectacular.''

He stepped into the office and looked at the picture with her. ''It sure is. One of the best diamonds in the world and it's coming here. I can't quite believe it.''

''Neither can I.'' She'd never heard of the program called,
'Diamonds for All.'
It was an initiative set up by the National Association of Jewelers, with the aim of bringing famous diamonds to places where the public go and see them. Based on reputation, Radley had been asked if he would like to house the Hope Diamond when it came to New York. His store had the best security of any in the city, and it had a strong room big enough to house a large show cabinet, four security men, and the viewing public.

''Listen, Tyra, I know I said I'd show you the sales figures this afternoon, but Mrs. Johnson has told me she's feeling ill and would like to go home. Can you fill in for her this afternoon? Tyra nodded.

The shop was divided into departments. Not that the clients would notice. To the untrained eye, the store was one large area full of glass cabinets. To the staff, however, it was different. Usually, there were four sales people on duty at anyone time, and two security guards. Each sales person was responsible for six cabinets. Tyra didn't know why, but she enjoyed working on the cabinets where the most expensive ladies jewelry was housed.

''Wow,'' she muttered when she saw the man talking to Leon. Leon had a great eye for people and was a master at keeping scruffy, drunk or loud people out of the store. The man Leon was talking to was none of these. He was beautifully dressed, six feet tall, and well built. Tyra wasn't an expert on men's suits, but she knew enough to see that it was expensive. Leon pointed to Tyra, and she watched as the man walked towards her. When he got closer, she saw the dreamiest emerald green eyes. She inadvertently adjusted her hair and checked to see her blouse was tucked into her skirt.

''Hi. I have an appointment. My name is Dima Asakov. I'm looking for some jewelry for my mother's birthday.''

''Certainly sir.'' Although she had never seen him before, he was obviously one of the store's high net worth individuals. Very rich people were allowed to make an appointment, during which they got VIP treatment. Why don't you pamper me instead of your mother, I could use it right now, she thought. She was quick to chastise herself for being unprofessional.

He noted her features with interest. Black, beautiful, tall, thin, lovely curves, perfect breasts and beautiful face. His mother always said it was the sign of a classy man, when the man kept eye contact with a woman, despite the size of her breasts. Whenever he met a woman, he reminded himself of this. Most days it was easy, but today it required a Herculean effort.

''Follow me, Mr. Asakov.'' The VIP suite was the most comfortable place Tyra had ever been in, but it lacked atmosphere. It wasn't used nearly as often these days. The financial crisis had seen to that.