The Possibility of Trey (2 page)

Shit! Neither choice was a good one. Juvenile hall would just teach my much younger brother new skills in creating mayhem, and a house arrest would be too much stress for my folks.

"Did you consider one of the places we talked about last time?" Hubbard's voice was quiet and kind in the dead of the room. A room that was, during the day, so bustling you could barely hear yourself think.

"Yeah, I looked into a couple. They seem kind of extreme, though." He was talking about the different places to send 'kids at risk' to help them learn responsibility and how to make better choices. "And they're kind of expensive."

"So are all of the fines," he prompted and he wasn't wrong. By my calculation before this latest incident, I'd spent almost ten G's in fines, restitution and legal fees on the little punk. One more year and the shithead would be on his own.

I couldn't wait.

A wave of self-pity came up and broadsided me, which hadn't happened in years. But it was the middle of the night after a very long day so I could forgive my emotional response. I turned away from the counter in order to get a grip before asking what I needed to do. Although you would've thought I'd learned enough from his previous arrests.

"We need you to sign the paperwork. He'll be arraigned tomorrow by four p.m. but like I said, I don't know if the judge will let him be released or not. You might want to have a plan in place before then."

Goddamn Drake!

"I don't get off work until three-thirty or four." I had long hours as a plumber at Hellion Construction that sometimes saw me putting in twelve hour days. Which for normal person was a good thing with overtime and all. But with a brother like Drake and my parent's medical issues, it was almost more than I could handle.

"I'll make a note of it and see if we can get his as one of the last on the docket." Hubbard knew the whole of it, what I dealt with day to day. Not just because we'd had numerous meetings due to my brother's wickedly bad choices but because back in the day he'd been one of my dad's closest friends.

"Appreciate it." I signed the numerous forms and pulled up my jeans before turning to exit the building. I stopped at the door and looked over my shoulder. "Thanks, Troy."

"You're welcome, Dallas. Stay strong."

I nodded, feeling the self-pity thing starting again only this time with an eye prickle before I slammed through the doors and stomped my way back to my truck.

Stop being such a girl
, I warned myself.
You've done this before and gotten through it.

Yeah, but when would it end and how many pounds of flesh would it take to get out of it
this
time?

"You have Dallas Sheridan on line two," Rita announced over the intercom in his office. That was twice today the dude's name had come up. First it was on Silo's lips at their weekly management meeting where the towering biker had recommended Sheridan be promoted to lead one of the Missoula crews and now a phone call.

Weird.

"Jackson," Trey said into the phone. When he was at his desk in the construction office, he left the president of the MC behind although most everyone knew what he did and was responsible for. He just didn't think his customers, suppliers and competitors needed to have the bad-ass part of his life shoved up in their grille while they dealt with him in the business arena.

"Hey, Mr. Jackson. I'm sorry to bother you but accounting said I needed to speak with you regarding getting an advance on my salary," he heard the voice say. Either the dude was a eunuch or had some serious damage to his vocal chords because he sounded like a girl.

"Which means you've already run through two draws already." Hellion Construction was one of the premier places to work and one of the reasons was their leniency in allowing long term employees to get salary advances. But any more than two in a year needed his approval.

"Yes, sir. But, I'm in good standing at the moment. I wouldn't ask, sir, but my brother's in a fix and…" the girlie voice on the other end explained. It wasn't just the high voice but the way the words were said that made it sound so…feminine. He wasn't homophobic but he didn't like how his cock was sitting up and taking notice to what he was hearing through the phone.

"Can you meet me tomorrow at, say, five to discuss it?" Trey loved having his calendar online so that at a couple of keystrokes he had his full agenda at his fingertips.

"Uhm. I was hoping for today, sir. His arraignment is at four," came the voice.

"I can do four-thirty but only for fifteen minutes. That gonna work for you?"

"Yes, sir. Four-thirty. Thank you, sir."

"Great. And stop fucking calling me 'sir'." Trey hated that corporate bullshit and had made a point of weeding it out when HC began to employ non-club members.

"Ah. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Jackson. Today at four-thirty."

"Be on time!" Trey barked before disconnecting, angry at how the voice had gotten to him. Obviously, his little bit of last night hadn't satisfied what he carried between his legs, but that was to be expected after he'd realized she was into drugs. He'd been so creeped out by the whole of the experience he'd ended up leaving and sleeping in his own bed when he'd typically toss the girl out and catch his shut eye at the compound.

He hated druggies of any kind.

Dare poked his head inside the doorway. "Got a minute?"

"Yeah, but only just. What's up?"

"I put Stark, Dice and Snake on getting the furnishings for the house up on west Eleventh. The Honeys have cleaned it and will get it all arranged."

"When do Melvin and family arrive?" Trey had made an executive decision after some guys from west Texas had tried to mess with Brand. Of the four of the alleged 'hit men' only Mel turned out to have a lick of sense. And it had come to light that Melvin, one of the youngest of the bunch, had only been roped into it because his younger brother and sister were being held by some old fuck by the name of Deschames who had since gone to his heavenly reward. Trey had made the decision to move Mel and siblings up to Montana and teach the kid a trade while securing a safe place for the family of three to live. The club had empty properties, plenty of stored furniture and the Honeys to help out which had made the whole issue a no brainer. And teaching the kid a trade would help him secure his future.

Whether he was material for the Hellions Motorcycle Club was a different fucking matter and had yet to be seen.

"Tomorrow. But everything will be in place by then. Dee's getting the school records transferred and all the utilities are on. I'm thinking of either the Cutlass or the Tacoma as his wheels. Do you know if he can drive a stick?" Dare's face held a frown that Trey's face mirrored. None of them knew that much about the Davis family but what info Mel had given had been verified.

The kids had lost their parents under suspicious circumstances when their general contractor father had ignored warnings to stop bidding on jobs that the Deschames construction company considered to be 'theirs'. After the death of the parents, Mel had been pressed into goon duty and his brother and sister held as ransom to ensure he complied.

"No. But the kid's scrappy so if he doesn't, he'll learn. Thanks for seeing to that." Trey was all for giving credit where credit was due and in the whole scheme of things, he'd gotten sidetracked from the Davis's issues. "Make sure Dee knows of our gratitude."

"Will do. Think this was just what she needed, though." Dare's eyes met Trey's and they shared a grin. Dee, the former club president's old lady, had been at odds since Big Duke had offed himself. True, with pancreatic cancer, the old man hadn't had long to live but the old guy hadn't thought the deed through. By taking his own life, he'd made the life insurance he'd paid on for years null and void, leaving poor Dee with almost nothing. No money, no future and no man.

"A win-win for everybody then," Trey muttered, feeling something inside him ease.

"So how was Teri?" Dare asked with a sly smile.

"Who?"

"The skinny broad with the tits. Naomi's sister."

Christ! She'd had a name?

"Druggie," Trey replied, shifting his eyes back to the computer screen. "In fact, I think it's time for Naomi to pee in a container herself."

"Cool. I'll see to it but I'll use Dee for that. So, if that's it…" Dare said, pushing off the doorframe.

"Let me know when Mel and the kids are at the house. I'll swing by and give him an official welcome." Trey reached for his phone, his mind already on the next call to be made.

And so it went. Calls and meetings, one right after another as Trey worked through his day only pausing long enough to gulp down a sandwich.

"You're four thirty is here," Rita announced on his intercom and Trey moved the papers from his desktop into an empty drawer as he pulled up his calendar. Oh yeah, Dallas Sheridan and his request for a salary advance.

"Send him in," Trey called and waited. At the knock on the doorframe, he glanced up at the petite girl. "Sorry, beautiful. You have to make an appointment."

"I did, Mr. Jackson. I'm Dallas Sheridan."

Trey blinked and rewound the words to hear them again, said in that same feminine voice he'd heard on the phone that morning. The ones that matched the womanly curves of the female before him.

And in spite of the way she was dressed, there was no mistaking Dallas Sheridan for anything but one of the feminine gender. Not from the shiny black layered curly hair to the chest that rounded the front of the Hellion Construction t-shirt tucked down into the well-worn, figure hugging jeans. It was her face comprised of nickel colored eyes and a sexy, pouty mouth that drove all thoughts of her being anything other than a beautiful girl from Trey's mind.

In all his years and with all he'd seen, Trey wasn't easily shocked. But the little vision of loveliness standing in his doorway knocked him on his fucking ass.

.
.
.
.*

I stood in the doorway and watched my boss's,
boss's
boss blink with his mouth open. But I didn't know why.

I'd tucked myself in, washed up and ran a comb through my hair before checking in with Rita so I knew I wasn't a horror show. And surely he knew I was a girl which was a bit of a stretch in the trades, but in this day and age wasn't unheard of.

"You're Dallas Sheridan?" The deep voice rumbled and held a note of incredulity. He still hadn't moved other than to do a long, slow blink.

"Yes, si…erm. Mr. Jackson. I have an appointment to discuss a salary advance." Geesh, for a guy that was supposed to be running the show he seemed a little slow on the uptake.

I didn't have time for slow.

He lifted his tall, tall self from the cushy leather thing he'd been sitting in and gestured to one of the chairs in front of his massive desk that only contained two computer monitors, a keyboard and a multi-lined phone. Which was nothing like I expected. For some reason, I thought busy men would have busy desks—covered in file folders and scraps of paper but his was ridiculously clean.

Plus, I expected captains of industry to be older, shorter somehow. But this guy was a tall hottie with a body to match. Which moved him into 'then he's gonna be a dick' column of my rate-a-man scale.

Then I caught sight of the denim vest that hung over the top of his chair.

Biker. A Hellion biker.

I pressed down the pinch of panic that hit me with the knowledge. Sure, I was aware that Hellion Construction by and large was ran by the motorcycle club but had managed to push it down since they offered half again as much in the way of pay than the other firms in our area. I'd told myself when I was hired that I'd just ignore
that
side of the business, that if I stayed off their radar, I'd keep them off mine.

Up until now it'd worked great.

I sat down and kept my fingers in my lap determined not to speak until spoken to in spite of the red-brown colored eye roam he seemed intent on performing.

"I was expecting a dude."

I swallowed thickly. This could be tricky since it had taken a while to get my boss and the rest of our crew to recognize me for my work and not my gender. I wasn't sure how to answer the president of the company in regard to being a woman instead of what he'd been expecting.

So I shrugged in response. "Just a girl."

"Yeah, but a girl with some serious skills from what I hear." The man hadn't let up with the eye thing, which was starting to make me uncomfortable. "Silo speaks well of you."

"Who?"

"Mr. Kettering." His voice was almost a growl. Funny how his big office, even with the door open, didn't seem to get much of the noise of the busy front area and warehouse space but only echoed his voice.

"Yeah, he's a good boss."

We shared a stare and I got the warning buzz in my stomach area telling me to shut the guy-meets-girl-and-they-both-like-what-they-see shit down fast. And I needed to keep in mind that this particular hot man was a biker, a group I'd been successful in avoiding during my time at the company.

I dropped my eyes, which seemed to do the trick.