Lady Guardians: Back Off Page 3

  “Okay.” I walk to the bar where Cowboy, B2R’s sergeant at arms, is standing. Grabbing a beer from the cooler, I look around trying to find dependable women to introduce to Carrie. I spot Brenda in a corner with some other girls. She is cool and can offer Carrie some suggestions on handling Tequeela. They’ve butted heads a few times, so Brenda is aware what a bitch Tequeela is. NeeNee is another one Carrie should get to know. Although she can’t be trusted to relay everything correctly. Not that she is dishonest, but she is a pure scatterbrain and can’t remember a damn thing you tell her.

  “Brick is headed for another eventful night at home,” Cowboy says.

  I nod and take a pull of my beer. “Yup. Don’t know why women think a biker’s life is so exciting, that they’ll put everything on the line to be with us. Shit, what he’s doing will destroy a relationship in seconds.”

  “Are you speaking about what happened with you and Darla?” he asks, quirking an inquisitive brow.

  “Kinda. She doesn’t listen, and I’m tired of explaining myself. She needs to accept it is over between us.”

  “So bringing Cliff’s sister here tonight will get that message across? Smooth move, brother.”

  “Carrie is just that: the sister of our brother who needs our help, nothing more,” I say as I watch her interact with her friends.

  “And crazy-ass Darla believes you belong to her. You start messing around with Carrie and shit will brew within the club. You know that’s looked down on.”

  I frown. “Don’t preach the laws of B2R to me, Cowboy. I told you what’s going on, so leave it alone, okay?”

  “Message noted.” Cowboy takes his beer and slides down the bar to talk to Smokie.

  B2R is not an exclusive race club. We are a mixture of people. Usually, that isn’t the case in most MC clubs. But Cleveland is a diverse city and diversity is why B2R was started in the first place.

  I continue to watch Carrie and her friends mingle with people who are more like them. It amazes me how folks flock to their own kind no matter what group setting they’re in. The women who hang out with us are not dainty, and protecting them isn’t an issue. They curse like men and throw back shots without puking in their purses.

  Cowboy is worried about Darla running into Carrie tonight. Hell, Darla has had issues with the Hell Dolls. If anything, she and Carrie should hookup to brainstorm bringing them down and leave me out of it.

  But Darla isn’t that type of person. I got attached to her for the wrong reasons. My initiation had me feeling myself. I was in a motorcycle club, and that meant I was a badass. But did that mean I could have what I wanted whenever, I wanted?

  As the hours pass, liquor is flowing, the music is blasting, and laughter has grown louder as the party moves into full effect. I’m talking shit with other people, forgetting Carrie is even in the building. Glancing in the last direction I last saw her, I see she is holding her own at a table with a lot more people. Women who are extremely trustworthy and friendly. Tonight may benefit her after all.

  Brick taps me on the shoulder then takes a seat next to me. “Hey.” He pauses for a moment, rubbing his chin and scowling at me before continuing, “You might want to talk to Carrie.”

  “What’s the problem now, Brick?”

  “The problem is she’s talking about Tequeela. You know that bitch has spies who could be here tonight. They will spill the shit Carrie said about her.”

  I get up from my chair and head toward the table to get Carrie. She is laughing, and her body is swaying to the music playing. This is a far cry from the woman who holds her standards high. When I reach the table, she looks up at me. Her eyes are glassy, and her cheeks are rosy. She is drunk.

  She reaches for my hand. “Hey, Jonah. Come join us.”

  I lean down and whisper in her ear, “We need to talk.”

  “What do you want to talk about? Oh wait, I owe you a drink. Let’s go to the bar. I need another one anyhow.”

  I take her by the elbow and easily lift her from the chair. “You need some air. Let’s go outside for a minute.”

  Carrie stumbles as we walk to the door. Not a good position for her to be in right now. The Hell Dolls could ride up any minute, itching to start shit with any club. With her inebriated, the fight would be short and ugly.

  “I’m having so much fun! Oh, and the people I’ve talked to tonight are excited about my idea and want to help. I can’t believe Cliff never let me come to the here,” she says leaning against the hood of her car. “If I had, the amount of money I raised last year could’ve been a lot more.”

  “I’m glad tonight worked out for you. I think I should get you home.”

  “Why? The night is young, and the party is going strong. I want to stay. Besides, we haven’t danced. I owe you a drink and a dance.”

  It’s still hot and muggy at one thirty in the morning. The urge is strong to wipe the sweat beading on Carrie’s forehead. I restrain myself from touching her. I’m lucky Darla didn’t show up to start any shit. However, fights don’t usually happen until the night is almost over. I need to have Carrie safely home before then.

  “I don’t dance, and I have to work in the morning. By the time I take you home and get my bike, it’ll be really late.”

  “Sure, we can go since you have to work.”

  Now that we’ve been outside a few minutes, Carrie suddenly looks tired. And there was something else there that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe that’s her drunk look since I don’t know her as well as I know Cliff.

  Laughing draws my attention away from Carrie. Her friends are walking in our direction. I hope one of the other women is the designated driver, because the white girl is visibly drunk. We want people to have a good time but not kill themselves or others driving home.

  Carrie touches my shoulder and says, “Excuse me a minute.”

  I nod. She staggers to her friends, and they talk and then have a group hug before dispersing. I shake my head. I see how out of their league these women are, but I don’t count them out just yet.

  Warm raindrops fall on my arm. A storm was likely to pop up with the heat and humidity hanging in the air. The grass and flowers need it badly.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go home too,” Carrie says.

  I open the car door, and she slips inside and fastens her seatbelt. I get in the driver’s seat and start the car. The rain is falling harder, and I search for the switch for the wipers, but Carrie reaches over to turn them on.

  “Thanks,” I reply.

  5

  Carrie

  Thank goodness the drive home was quick. I had too much to drink and crawling to my bed to sleep off the ill effects is all I wanted to do. Getting out and living a little can do more harm than good. I look out the window—it is pouring. The rain is steady with no signs of letting up.

  I would be a horrible person to let Jonah ride home in a torrential rainstorm—or would I? Bikers are strong, fearless—a little rain won’t hurt him. I slouch in the seat. Cliff would have my behind in a sling if I mistreated his best friend. Besides, I’m not that type of person.

  The clap of thunder and a bright flash of lightning startles me for a second. I don’t know how it is possible for it to rain any harder. Jonah has the wipers going full tilt as he slows down. Either I’m too buzzed to be afraid of his driving, or I trust him with my life in bad weather.

  Finally, after creeping down Lorain doing under twenty miles an hour, we make it to my street. Jonah parks the car at my back door.

  “Get in the house, so you don’t get drenched. I’ll put the car in the garage.”

  He goes to turn off the car, but I stop him. “I have a spare in my purse.” I open the door, and the wind causes it to push back. I look at Jonah. “Hey, why don’t you stay here tonight? You can’t ride in bad weather.”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll be all right.”

  I’m not arguing with him tonight. My head is in another dimension, my stomach is growling, and, most importantly, my b
ed is calling, and I’m apt to answer that one instead of eating. “I’m no longer asking but telling you. There should be enough room in the garage to squeeze your bike next to mine.”

  “I don’t want to put you out. When it rains heavy like this, it’ll pass soon, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Suit yourself on how long you stay,” I say with a shrug. “But, you aren’t going anywhere until the rain stops.”

  Jonah finally gives in. His clothes are soaked when he comes in. I don’t have any men’s clothing, and offer him a towel and a terrycloth bathrobe to wear until his stuff is dry.

  He sits on the couch, making sure the robe is secure before crossing his legs. The furthest thing from my mind is wondering what is going on beneath his robe. To ease any temptation on his part, I remain fully clothed.

  “I’ve only seen robes like these on TV. Where did you get it?”

  “I’m not proud to say I boosted it from a hotel,” I admit.

  His brow lifts. “You stole? Wow. Never expected that from you.”

  “Wait before you judge me. I was seventeen, and my dad refused to spend eighty bucks to buy me one. Heck, for what he paid for the hotel rooms, the robes should’ve been gifts.”

  “Okay, you get a pass because you were young and impressionable.”

  “Although my parents never found out, it scared me straight. I have never taken another thing that did not belong to me.” I laugh, but I am dead serious.

  “Some get the lesson on the first try. It takes longer for others to learn not to touch what doesn’t belong to them.”

  “Are you talking about yourself?”

  He laughs. “I refuse to incriminate myself.”

  “I know what that means,” I reply. “Do you want a beer?”

  Before he can respond, I get up to go get the beer and me a glass of water. My alcohol intake is done for the night. When I close the fridge door, Jonah is in the kitchen leaning against the counter. Damn, he looks so sexy in my heisted robe.

  Using a bottle opener, I open the Stella and ask, “Do you want a glass?”

  “Carrie, we’re bikers—really?”

  “Sorry for having manners,” I say and hand him the beer.

  He takes a long swig, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then relaxes against the counter. The only thing marring in his look is the boots; they do not go with the plushness of the white robe.

  “I’ve been friends with Cliff and around your family for years. Why haven’t we ever had a conversation before?”

  The question is too much for my muddled brain. “You know Cliff didn’t like me hanging around. I remember you never made an effort to talk to me unless you had to.”

  “Maybe it was my fault. I should have taken an extra minute or two to talk to you.”

  Okay, the look in his eyes is scaring me. It could be my drunken imagination, but the way he is rubbing the beer bottle makes me nervous. Does he imagine it is me?

  “Um, we talked a lot today,” I say. “That made up for lost time don’t you think?”

  “Circumstances brought us together today. We should hang out and really get to know each other.”

  “What about your girlfriend, Jonah? I have enough trouble with Tequeela. I don’t need a jealous girlfriend on my ass too.”

  “Is this a CD player? What kind of music do you listen to?”

  What the heck just happened? Did he deflect what I said that easily? “Really? You’re going to blow off what I said?” Great! The song “Back Pocket” by Vulfpeck fills the kitchen.

  “Nope. Hey, I like this jam.”

  He starts to sing and move his body to the music. To my surprise, his singing is impressive and he hits the notes along with Vulfpeck. His dancing isn’t half bad either.

  Taking a sip of water, I watch him. I’m impressed. “Hmm, not many people like my choice of music.”

  “See we have stuff in common other than bikes.”

  “So you’re into European bands too?”

  “If the song is catchy, I’ll give it a shot. This has an R&B beat to it. And the answer to your question is I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  I give him a sideways glance filled with doubt. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t have a reason to lie. Look, my love life is an open book. I had a girl for a couple years, and it didn’t work out. Life continues on.”

  “Just like that?”

  He snaps his fingers. “Just like that. Are you afraid she’ll find out we were together tonight?”

  “Hey, biker chicks have a different mentality when it comes to their men, Jonah. I don’t want any trouble.”

  He shakes his head. “Girl, you gotta toughen up if you want to be a part of this life. Trouble is ninety percent of a biker’s life.”

  “I have tough skin. I was in a fight!” The thumping in my head increases when I raise my voice.

  “Expect more of those. Make no mistake, we have your back, but you have to know how to stand up and defend yourself. If you can’t do that, then I suggest you withdraw from the organization. There’s more to this life than riding pretty bikes, partying, and looking tough.”

  “You really don’t think I can handle it?” I’m pissed and want him to leave, but that would be petty—I need to learn what I can from him.

  “I believe you can.” He walks over, closing the gap between us. My legs start to tremble. “Dawn has the right attitude. She got pissed I intervened. Take lessons from her, and maybe a self-defense class, and you’ll be ready to stand on your own.”

  “Dawn is a lesbian. Do I need to convert?”

  “Screw that—and break the heart of every man in the city? Including mine.”

  His smile is crooked and sexy. Dog-gone it! The moist area between my legs starts to throb. “What?”

  “You’ve had too much to drink to understand where I’m going with this. I’ll wait until you’re sober, then I won’t feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

  The room is spinning… No, I’m spinning, and I need to get my behind away from him. “I’m going to bed,” I say as I move past him to leave the kitchen. “I’ll throw down a blanket and a pillow or you to make up the couch.”

  “Our first fight and I’m relegated to the couch—damn.”

  “Better than being sent home in the rain,” I reply.

  I hear his laughter as I continue up the steps and enter my bedroom. When I close the door, I contemplate locking it. “Nah, he’s a friend; I’m safe,” I say, hoping to convince myself he won’t creep upstairs during the night.

  I change my clothes and crawl into bed. It doesn’t take long for sleep to find me.

  6

  Jonah

  Four Days Later

  I kill the engine of my bike and watch the argument currently in progress between Darla and Cowboy. They both appear to be aggressively accusing each other of something, and Darla is stabbing her finger at his chest. I should probably step in and break it up. I leave my bike and walk toward the front of the bar where they are. Darla has her back to me, so she doesn’t see me coming, but Cowboy does and lifts his chin at me.

  “Jonah, get your girl before I drop her ass,” he says.

  Darla stops midsentence and whips her head around, her angry eyes narrowing as they land on me. “Stay out of it, Jonah; this has nothing to do with you,” she says.

  “I have no intentions of getting involved unless blows come into play,” I say. “But what’s going on with you two?”

  She scowls and goes to answer, but Cowboy cuts in. “Darla’s usual bullshit. You need to keep her ass in check. Trust me. One day she’ll open that mouth and be absent of many teeth—I swear I’m gonna knock all them bitches out.”

  I know Cowboy is serious, and Darla should be aware he doesn’t make threats without following through. He is three times her size, and she should know better than to approach him acting foolish.

  “You know, Jonah, you created this mess,” she says, switching her ang
er to me. “The day you decided it was okay to bring Cliff’s sister here to party.”

  I have a tendency to lose my temper quick with Darla. “It was a fuckin’ party. Not my fault you didn’t come.”

  “You took her home and stayed the night. Don’t tell me you didn’t fuck her. I know you have to live up to your fuckboy namesake.”

  I feel my anger hit the roof but remain calm. She isn’t worth me going to jail, though Cowboy seems willing to go. I take a few deep breaths before I say, “I’ve made some bad mistakes in my life. You, sweetheart, are the worst, and I fucking regret lying down with your ass.”

  Her expressive green eyes widened, and I see the hurt filter through them. “Damn, it’s true. You’re sleeping with Cliff’s sister.”

  I shake my head. “Not going there with you. Your fight is with Cowboy, not me.” I feel a headache crawl across my forehead. I need coffee. I start walking to the bar when Darla grabs my arm.

  “Tell me the truth, Jonah. Are you with her? Don’t think I can’t find a man to replace you. You aren’t a god.”

  “Actually, I encourage your crazy ass to find another man. Maybe the one you’ve been fucking behind my back.”

  Tears pool in her eyes. Darla never cries. She’s a tough girl who will take a bat to a person if they look at her the wrong way. “We weren’t together when that happened.”

  I snatch my arm away. “Guess I wasn’t notified about that. But who cares? We aren’t together now. And who I am with is none of your business.”

  “Since making president, you’ve turned into a real ass, Jonah. I hope that girl is smart enough to see through you.”

  “Yeah, it took time for me to change, but you’ve been a bitch since day one. Cowboy, get her ass off the property for good,” I say.

  Cowboy palms a fist and smiles. “My pleasure.”

  “You’ll regret this, Jonah. I’ll get you and that bitch!”

  I ignore her rant and keep walking. The bar smells of old beer and stale cigarettes. The party was four days ago, yet the place is still a mess. Kicking trash aside with my foot, I make it to the bar, pour a cup of coffee and take a seat. I haven’t talked to Carrie in days and wonder how she is doing. Did I come on too strong and scare her off?