Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(37)
To encourage him, I said, “I agree. I think he’s been making some idiotic decisions lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him—greed, maybe—but he’s doing some wrong things. Ever since Panhead went up the river, things have been strange. And Tormenta seems to be running sweat shops all over Arizona.”
“Among other f*cking things,” Harte said glumly, finally lighting his smoke. That was another thing. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him smoke before. He must have been under more pressure than just wondering about his father’s business dealings.
Still, I didn’t think much when club member Dayton Navarro walked up and lifted his chin at Harte. Leaning his bass guitar against the speaker, Dayton mumbled something that sounded like, “Harte. I found that thing you wanted to see.”
Harte looked apologetically at us and stubbed out his barely-smoked cig with his boot. “Ladies. I’ll be back in a flash.” Whatever the “it” was that Dayton referred to, it certainly seemed to light up Harte’s handsome face. I was all for “it.” I didn’t think Harte should be forced to feel bad, having told his father our plans. It was only logical to trust your father, the President of your club, with pertinent information that might alter his business decisions. It made me wonder why Leo hadn’t chosen Harte as his new Veep after Panhead had gone to prison. Harte was his only son, after all, the logical heir for the chapter. Instead he’d chosen Fred Birdseye, who wasn’t even from Flagstaff. Birdseye had been the Tucson chapter Prez until the clubhouse had gone up in flames and they’d disbursed to other chapters, once again in fear of Tormenta.
I walked arm in arm with Cassie, sipping my own beer. I wasn’t a big drinker so I knew it’d hit me hard, and I was right. I was already feeling loopy and had barely started my second beer. I wasn’t worried, because Maddy was driving us both back later to her house.
Cassie said, “Your convent idea is starting to sound better and better, Bee.”
I giggled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this biker life. It can’t go on forever. It’s like modeling or being an actress, or the way I guess being a stewardess used to be—sorry, ‘flight attendant.’ It’s got a short shelf life.”
“Oh, baloney.” I still hadn’t gotten the hang of swearing, although I knew I should, to blend in better with this crowd. “Look at Duji’s old lady Dominique, Faux Pas’s wife Sapphire, they’re both in their forties, even fifties. Tuzigoot’s wife Brunhilde. They’ve been together for-f*cking-ever.”
Cassie squeezed my forearm. We nodded at some members of a brother club, The Bent Zealots out of Lake Havasu. The former Veep of the P and E mother chapter, Turk Blackburn had gone over to found this new gay MC, shaking up the MC world. They were all super-nice guys, and I’d heard a rumor that their tracker, Lock Singer, was going to join us in our Tormenta quest, but he was away in California on business.
“Yes, but that’s if you’re someone old lady, someone’s wife. Sweetbutt lifespan lasts until you hit thirty, if you’re lucky.”
I shrugged. “I’m twenty-five. I’ve got five years to go.”
“Plus, you’ve got your own business to run. You’re not just a sweetbutt. You’re not one of us, really, at all.”
“Well I’m not doing a very good job running my business from here,” I said sullenly. “Don’t have much choice though. I’ve got to stay with Maddy.”
“I’m sorry, dear. I never should’ve pushed back on Tormenta in the first place. I should’ve just let him throw me around. Defending myself is what escalated his rage.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for defending yourself, my dear!” It was then I saw Sax. Built like a brick shithouse, wearing only his wifebeater under his black leather cut, he stood with a group of men, former Tucson men I thought, but off to one side. He truly was a lone wolf, the way he stood aside from the group. With his hands on his hips, he seemed to be listening to what the men were discussing, nodding without adding to the conversation.
“Ah,” sighed Cassie. “The world’s always a sunnier place when Zane Saxonberg’s in town. You like him,” she observed.
I would have to admit it eventually, even if it meant Sax split town after his job was done and left me eating his dust. “Yes. But he’s not the best bet in the world, traveling like he does.”
“He just bought that new rock shop in town.”
Did every-f*cking-body other than me know about that damned rock shop? “I assumed he’d be getting someone else to run it. Anyone can run a rock shop. Not everyone can ride around buying and selling gems.”
Sax noticed me. It was like a giant lightbulb went off over his head. He became so still, like a crouching tiger willing to wait hours for its prey to make a move.
“Oh, believe you me,” said Cassie, “not everyone can run a rock shop. Zane has a PhD, didn’t you know that? In a serious rock shop, one that doesn’t just sell amethyst geodes and dyed agate bookends, serious buyers come in and expect to talk turkey about serious geology stuff.”
Sax was moving toward me. He didn’t take his eyes off my face, as though afraid if he did, I’d vanish. He moved beautifully, stealthily, just short of breaking into a jog.