Ruined #4 (The MC Motorcycle Club Romance Series - Book #4) (7 page)

I got in my car at around three and realized I was
starving. I hadn’t eaten since Dax and my picnic the night before. As I drove
through town I passed Mel’s. It was a tiny restaurant that had a stage and
usually a live band or a stand-up comic performing while you ate. Dax and I
used to go there all the time and the sight of it made me nostalgic.

I parked and went inside. The place hadn’t changed
at all. It was decorated with a jersey from every college football team in
California. There were pictures here and there of college players and trophies
and medals that had been donated. The hostess led me to a table where I could
see the stage. I ordered a jalapeno burger and seasoned fries, just like Dax
and I used to, and I sat and listened to the band play country rock music as I
ate.

It wasn’t very crowded, but there were a few couples
on the floor dancing. I thought back to the nights that Dax and I used to come
there with no bigger worries than whether or not we had a test to study for and
smiled. We would talk and laugh and dance…and on Thursday Karaoke nights, we
would even sing. Those had truly been the best days of my life and I thought
they were for Dax too.

I knew I hated the club life, but I hadn’t realized
just how much I’d missed all the normalcy until I watched the young and in love
couples swaying to the music and staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. Even
the ones that were squabbling over one thing or another. It was normalcy and I
wanted it back. I really hoped Dax meant what he said and wanted it back too. I
didn’t think he’d straight up lie to me and I really didn’t think he would lie
to his mother.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

DAX

I had an appointment with my P.O. the day after
Olivia and I had our date. It was scheduled at nine in the morning so I’d just
stayed in my room at my mom and my dad’s house the night before. My mom woke me
up at eight and with a screaming hang over; I showered and dressed like a
respectable citizen in anticipation of her arrival.

As usual, she was right on time. My mom showed her
in and brought out the usual homemade goodies.

“So, Dax, how are things?” she asked.

I started to answer her when I saw my dad coming
down the hall. Shit! I thought he’d left already.

Miss Ortega looked up and saw what I was looking at
and said, “Well hello, Jo-Jo.”

My dad made a face at the name, but to his credit,
he pasted on a smile and said, “Miss Ortega is it?”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said with a huge smile. I
think she loved trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

“Nice to see you again,” he said.

He came over and grabbed one of the cinnamon rolls
that my mom had sat out and then gave me a raised eyebrow look that said he
wished I had more respectable visitors. He shuffled out to the kitchen to get
his coffee.

When he was gone, she turned back to me and said,
“Okay, so what’s been going on?”

I told her about the business and that I was taking
my class the following week so that I could get licensed. It seemed to make her
happy, but in true Parole office form she said, “Remember that a shop like that
will attract a lot of the more…unsavory characters in town. Choose your friends
wisely.” My dad shuffled back by and she watched him until he disappeared into
the bathroom. She looked back at me and said, “I guess you can’t pick your
relatives though.”

I grinned and said, “No ma’am, unfortunately not.”

“So do you have all the requirements taken care of
to get your licensure? You are going to do this the right way, right?”

“Yes, my mother and I printed off everything and I
have gone over it all. I’m registered for the Health and Safety class next
week. Once I pass, I just have to pay the state and I’ll be licensed.”

“Cool,” she said. “Have you done an internship or
anything?”

“California doesn’t require an internship, but I did
spend a day at my friend’s shop. I watched him do several tattoos and he
familiarized me with the tools and a lot of the procedures. He had to turn a
kid away when I was there for being underage.”

“Good, where’s your friend’s shop?”

“He actually works out of his garage, but it’s
sanitary and well run. He’s really talented.”

“What’s his name?” she asked me. Shit! I should have
never brought it up. I’m a fucking idiot. Parolees are not supposed to be
hanging out together.

“Greg,” I said.

“Greg what?”

“I don’t know his last name,” I said. It was the
truth.

“Where’s his shop?” she said.

“Why the sudden inquisition?” I asked her. “Isn’t
the whole point of your job supposed to be rehabilitation? Isn’t that what the
R at the end of CDCR stands for? I’m trying my best to do things right. I can’t
get a job because of my recent past. Instead of stealing things, I’m trying to
start a legitimate business. Why would you try and look for things that might
prevent me from doing that?”

She looked at me long and hard and then she said,
“There are some parolees who start businesses…like bars for instance and they
use said business as a front for less savory businesses,
back room
businesses. I’d just really hate to see you make that
mistake, Dax. I like you.”

It was blaringly obvious that my dad and his bar
were the elephant’s in the room that neither of us could or would talk about.

I simply said, “I understand what you’re saying.
That’s not me though, I swear.”

“Good,” she said. “Because like I said, I do like
you. But, if I find you doing anything the slightest bit illegal, I will not
hesitate to violate you.”

I had zero doubts that she would hesitate at all. It
was okay though, she wasn’t going to find out.

She didn’t pee test me this time. It was just a
quick check-in to make sure I was still where I was supposed to be until I told
her about the business and mentioned Greg. Once she gave me the lecture, she
let it go and only stayed a few more minutes before saying, “I should get
going. I’ll see you here in the next few weeks. I’ll call you.”

She said good-bye to my mother and thanked her for
the goodies before she left. She genuinely seemed to like my mom. When I came
back in from walking her to the car, my dad was sitting on the couch flipping
through the television channels with the remote.

Without turning to look at me he said, “She’s kind
of a tight ass.”

I smiled and just so it didn’t seem like I was
playing favorites, I said, “Yep, she sure is.”

It was funny though. I didn’t see her that way. I
saw her as tough and the thought of her violating me made me a nervous wreck.
But, she was doing her job and her job was to keep scumbags off the street. As
a citizen and resident of California, I appreciated her efforts.

After my meeting with the Parole officer and passing
with flying colors as the good boy, I went into my room and fished my gun out
of the far back of the top of the closet. I made sure it was loaded and then I
tucked it into the waistband of my jeans. I threw my vest on over it before
going back out in the living room. My dad was still on the couch.

“We’re gonna play some pool after a while,” he said
when he heard me come through.

“Okay, sounds good. I have a few errands to run. Can
I borrow your truck?”

“I don’t care,” he said, still staring at the
television. I went into the kitchen to get the keys and found my mom in their
reading the paper. When she saw me take the keys down she asked, “Why are you
taking the truck?”

“I have a buddy with a table for sell. I’m going to
look at it and see if it’ll work for the shop,” I lied.

“Oh good,” she said, going back to her paper.

I kissed her on the cheek and said, “Thanks for
entertaining the P.O. again. I’ll see you later.”

“You’re welcome. See you later,” she said. I hated
lying…especially to my mother.

*************

I drove back up to the warehouse. I was happy to see
that it looked like no one was around. I could outrun someone on my bike, but
in my dad’s old flatbed Ford, I doubted it.

I stopped close to the rolling front doors and got
out. Since the last time I was there, and Brock and I had gotten into it,
someone had put about five more locks on the door. I was sure it was my
brother. He wasn’t going to tell anyone that I had been able to waylay him and
that I knew the warehouse was full of drugs. He thought if I came back and saw
all of those locks on the door, I would just pack up and go home. He not only
thought wrong, but putting all of the locks on the warehouse was kind of stupid
as well. It was almost the equivalent of putting up a big sign that said, “Hey!
Something big is in here, you should break in!”
Morons.

I stood several feet back and aimed the gun at the
first lock and fired. There were five of them, so it took me five shots, but I
eventually got them all off. I rolled open the doors and was happy to see that
the crates of heroin were still there. I got back in the truck and backed it
in. I left it running while I loaded the crates onto the flatbed. I used the
tarp I’d brought and covered them and tied it all down.

I drove to the bar. I knew it was the stupidest move
I’d made yet, but my dad had already told me they’d be shooting pool and I just
so happened to know no one had used the back door at the far end of the
clubhouse in years. I was able to take the back road up to the bar. The dirt
one Olivia and I took walks along sometimes.

I backed the truck up close and used the key I’d
stolen from my dad’s office to unlock the old rusty lock on the back door. Two
at a time and at break-neck speed; I unloaded the crates into my room. I was
sweating by the time I got done, more from panic then from heat or exertion. I
locked my door up tight and went back to the pickup, locking the outside door
up once more.

I drove back up the way I came and around so that it
looked like I came into the bar off the main road. I parked in front and went
inside. It was a packed house. Cookie was cooking up a storm and two of my
dad’s groupies were serving up drinks as fast as they could pour them. They had
a young woman in a bikini writing the names of those in the tournament on a dry
erase board while they all stared at her ass. Those losers deserved to go to
jail, I thought just as I caught Blake’s eye across the room. Terrance was with
him and they were both boring holes through me with their glares. I went around
behind my dad’s bar and grabbed one of his beers. I strode over to my dad’s
table and I sat down.

Fuck ‘em.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

OLIVIA

Several days passed. I’d been staying with my uncle,
slowly packing my things up to move back in with Dax since the night we went
out. He wanted me to come back and stay with him and I agreed to it, but I was
taking my time because as much as I wanted to be with Dax, I was dreading going
back to the bar. I told Dax it was the hold up, but he didn’t seem to mind I
was taking my time.

I finally finished packing and cleaned the room I’d
been staying in really well.

It was a lot earlier than I thought it would be when
I got done. I hadn’t heard from Dax that day so I decided to call him and see
if he wanted to do something. I’d been thinking about going to Mel’s with him
since the day I stopped there. I thought it would be fun to hang out for a
while and have dinner.

I called him, but he didn’t answer so I decided to
just load up some of my stuff and drive over. If he wasn’t there, I could
probably get Bull to open the bedroom for me so I could start moving some of my
stuff over. It had been about a week since I cleaned it, so I figured it would
probably need to be done again too.

I found Bull, Blake and Bo in deep conversation in
the back when I got there. They stopped talking when they saw me and after a
few seconds of recovery time, Bull said, “Hey sweetheart, Dax isn’t here. I
really don’t know where he went.” I had my arms full of bags and it finally
must have dawned on him because he said, “I can open the room for you if you
want me to.”

“I’d like that, if you don’t mind,” I told him.

I smiled at Blake, but he didn’t smile back. He just
glared at me and it was making me nervous so I turned away quickly and
pretended to be shuffling with my bags until Bull came back with the key. He
slipped the key in the door and stepped away, letting me go inside on my own.

“Thanks, Bull,” I told him over my shoulder.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said. I hated it when he
called me that.

I turned back towards the room and was surprised to
see it was full of wooden crates. What the hell was this? Was Dax collecting
equipment for his business? I put my stuff down and went over to look more
closely at them. They didn’t have any lettering or markings on them. The one on
top looked like it had been pried open and the lid only sat down on it loosely.
With a knot in my stomach, I lifted the lid and looked inside. I already
thought I knew what I was going to find. The crate was full of little black
balloons. I reached in and picked one up just as I heard the door open behind
me. I swung around and saw Dax looking at me with the
Oh Shit!
look on his face.