Bounty (63 page)

“
B
ash
, where’d you run off to, man?” Knox has a cigarette hanging from his thin lips. It’s burned down far enough that the glowing tip is only barely visible past his bearded face. He nods to a darkened corner. Jez is sitting on a stool with a few empty shot glasses in front of her, glaring at me. “I think she’s pissed off about something.”

There were no promises made to Jez, but there was definitely an expectation about what was going to happen tonight. And knowing her, she didn’t miss the fact that when I disappeared into the back, it was with Blondie.

As my thoughts drift back to her, I quickly glance over to the bar. Gone. The only thing surprising about that is how disappointed I feel.

“I think she was hoping to get some dick tonight.” Knox is still talking about Jez. He has a thing for her, even if he’d never admit it. I know they’ve hooked up a few times, but Jez isn’t the type to stick with one guy.

“I’m not up for it anymore. Why don’t you offer up your own services?”

The biker’s eyebrows raise, the excitement on his face masked mostly behind his beard but I can still see it in his eyes. “You sure? It looked like you guys were…”

“Nah, I’m tired. I’m actually gonna hit the road. You’d do both of us a favor. She wants some dick, and I want some shut-eye.”

Knox pulls the butt from his mouth and grinds it down into the ashtray on the table. “Done and done. Thanks, boss.”

One last look around the bar confirms my suspicions that Blondie has left. She probably grabbed her friend the second she got back out so she wouldn’t have to face me. I doubt I’ll ever seen her face in here again.

Probably a good thing. That girl was a fun diversion, but certainly a complication I can’t afford in terms of anything long-term. Blondie is no Jez, a girl I can just keep around as a side fuck and expect no more than a pouty face when she gets ignored. A quick glance toward the back of the room tells me that I’m already forgotten. Jez already has her hand in Knox’s pants as the two of them re-familiarize themselves with each other’s tonsils.

Having a girl that I can get serious with and not have to share with the club is a nice little daydream, but it can’t be a reality. Not for me. Relationships mean getting close, and getting close means letting someone into my life in ways I just can’t allow. I’ve held on to my secrets for too long to risk them getting exposed by someone else’s indiscretion. I’ve had too many close calls when I’ve only had myself to worry about.

Besides, even here on a Saturday night I can tell by the way she dresses that Blondie is the corporate type. That means she’s an even bigger liability to me. Hell, just fucking her was a bigger risk than I should have taken. But something about her just pushed my buttons. If I hadn’t fucked her, I probably wouldn’t be able to get her out of my head for days.

It was great sex, but she did me a favor by leaving. Saved me the trouble of having to go over there and try to piss her off enough to walk out.

“
B
ash
, what’s up, man? Thanks for last night, by the way. I don’t remember Jez being hornier. I think you really worked her up.” Knox is leaning against the bar, cigarette hanging from his lips, as usual. In the full light of Axle’s during the day, his long hair seems greasy, as well as being tangled, and I can see ashes in his beard. There’s definitely a reason why they keep the lights dim in a bar when it’s full of customers looking for hookups.

“Spare me the details. Where is everyone?”

Knox cocks his head toward the door leading to the MC offices and meeting rooms. “Out back by the loading dock. Apparently, a few of the guys made an early morning score and they’re just rooting through the shit now to see what they got. Sounds like a good haul.”

I feel my teeth clamp together, but I keep my face as calm as possible.
What the fuck did they steal this time?

I don’t trust myself to say another word as I storm away, although I probably give away my feelings by how hard the door to the back slams against the wall behind it as I shove it open.

I use the thirty seconds that it takes me to walk past the offices and out to the loading dock to breathe deeply, trying to calm myself down. It doesn’t seem to matter to these fucks what I’ve told them in the past, or what my plan is for the future. Some of them just have bad blood, and the only way they can get off is by wreaking havoc. Our club has flown under the radar, for the most part, ever since I took over. Even before that, we were never true one-percenters. But there are too many members these days that would love to see that change.

No one notices me as I step onto the loading dock. There are five guys out here already, all huddled around an open box and surrounded by even more unopened ones that have already been unloaded from the back of a truck. The ramp of the truck has been lowered down onto our dock, exposing even more crates inside.

Even though the only view I have are five grinning and armored skulls facing back at me from their cuts, I know exactly which of my brothers are in front of me.

“What the fuck is this, Snake?”

My vice president jumps up to his feet and turns around in surprise, while the other brothers just turn their heads and nod at me before turning back to what they’re examining. Most of them should know better as well, but Snake definitely has no excuse for being involved in this. He’s very clear on what our plans are. And yet his face betrays no sense that he’s done anything wrong.

“Hey, Bash, didn’t hear you come in.” The cut above his eye from last night looks like it might burst open at the slightest touch, and my fingers are itching to test it out. I can feel them clench, but I don’t want to make a scene in front of the others. Not yet, anyway. Not until I know exactly what’s going on. Then there might be a scene. A bloody one.

“What the fuck is this shit, and who the fuck told you guys to jack it?”

Snake’s eyes dart back over to the box and he licks his lips. I know that he isn’t completely on board with my long term plan, but stealing a truckload of shit is almost complete opposition to it. Some might even call it mutiny.
Is he trying to provoke me?
At least he’s starting to look nervous now.

“It wasn’t me,” he says in a low voice, looking back at the guys as if to make sure they aren’t paying attention. “Ripper went off last night all pissed off. Took a few guys with him to blow off some steam.” He jerked his head toward the brothers behind him and lowered his voice even further. “Couple of them. Anyway, from what I can tell, they all got drunk somewhere outside of town. Near Cicero, I think. Anyway, they eventually ran out of cash, and that’s when they decided to stir shit up.”

If I grind my teeth any harder, I’m worried I might hear one of them crack. I slowly unclench my fist and bite off the next couple words. “Then what?”

“Usual shit. Harassing people and whatnot. They may or may not have robbed a small store, as well. But they were sober enough to take their cuts off, at least. They told me that.”

I let some breath out of my lungs, feeling it blow past my teeth. At least the trouble they got into won’t be traced back to us then. Probably.

“Anyway, they didn’t head back until morning. It was pretty early. But on the highway, they passed this truck. I guess they decided they weren’t done causing shit. So they forced the driver to pull over and open up the back. Ripper loaded his bike and then drove the thing back here. He left the plates and the driver by the side of the road. We figured we better still unload and dump the thing as fast as possible, though.”

“Where the fuck is Ripper now?” He’s lucky he isn’t one of the guys crouching a few feet away or I would already have my foot up his ass.

“I think he said he was going home to get some sleep. You know, being up all night and all.” Snake was eyeing me as he played with his beard, digging his fingernails into each link of the braid as he always did when he was nervous.

“Go call him and tell him to get his ass in here. If he doesn’t answer, go the fuck over there and drag him here if you have to.”

Snake just nodded, but I could see the grin on his face before he turned. After what happened between him and Ripper last night, I have a feeling he’ll skip the phone call and go right to the dragging part. That’s fine by me.

The four guys left are all relatively young. I don’t know which ones specifically went with Ripper, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t fault them. If a senior member tells you to ride, you don’t ask questions, you just go. Ripper is one of the originals, and most of the young guys respect him, if only for that.

But he knows as well as Snake that stealing a truck full of merchandise is not part of our mandate. Not anymore, anyway, if it ever was. So doing it anyway is an open ‘fuck you’ to me for embarrassing him last night. And that’s a piss poor excuse.
Am I losing control of this MC?

That’s a question that’s been on my mind a lot lately, but for now, I’m stuck dealing with this. The stuff is already here. It’s not like we can give it back. We’ll just need to get rid of it as quickly and quietly as possible.

Taking a few more deep breaths to control my emotions, I walk forward to the men and attempt to keep my voice calm. “Hey, boys, what do we got?”

“Bike parts. High-end ones, from what I can tell.” Zane lifts a gleaming chrome tailpipe in the air and waggles it as if to prove his words. “This is a good fucking score, boss!”

High-end motorcycle parts seems like a pretty coincidental score. I can feel the blood in my face heat up and I walk past the guys on the dock toward the truck. The loading dock for the bar isn’t that big. It was built for unloading cases of whiskey and kegs of beer, not big boxes from a semi this big. That means in order to see the side of the truck, I have to press myself right up against the wall and edge myself out so that I can lean my head back enough to confirm what I’m starting to fear.

The bright sunlight is gleaming off of the white-walled side of the truck, and even though I have to squint after the dimness of the closed off loading dock, the big red letters are still very legible.

Piston, Inc.

“Fuck!” The growl comes loudly out of my mouth as I yank myself back in. All of the men kneeling in front of the open box look up in surprise.

“What’s wrong? Cops?” Half of them are on their feet as soon as Zane mentions the police, and one of them starts to close up the box without even looking at me. Another has a hand on his gun.

“If it was the cops, were you planning on having a fucking shoot-out with them, Jake?” I feel like cuffing the young recruit on the side of the head as I pass him, but restrain myself. My anger isn’t directed at him. Even if he was one of the ones that fucked me over by grabbing this truck. Hell, I can’t even really blame Ripper. I mean, I will blame him. He stole the fucking truck, and I guarantee that he knew and targeted it because of the fact that it was from Piston.

But that’s all he knows. And keeping it that way just got that much harder.

Fuck!

I
f it had been
up to me, I would have made this interview first thing in the morning rather than wait until eleven. Better to get it over with; it’s not like I was going to sleep in, anyway. I’ve been getting up early for work for years, my body is accustomed to the hours. Instead I’m lying in bed with over two hours to kill before I even have to start getting ready.

Two hours to continue to worry and stress about the first interview I’ve been able to land since leaving Edward.

At least now I know that he’s the reason for the lack of interest my résumés have been generating. Even without his confirmation on Saturday, I suspected he might have something to do with it. He’s a vindictive asshole. So now I’m left with him spreading lies or threats about hiring me all over town, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do is what kept me up all night.

Well, that and thinking about
him
. Bash.

Loud-mouthed, arrogant, son of a bitch.

Tattooed motorcycle thug.

Smoking-hot alpha male with the cock that could be used as a mold for beautiful, over-sized dildos.

Bash.

Bringer of orgasms.

Haunter of dreams.

The truth was, what little sleep I did get last night was interrupted by the image of either his grinning, stubbly face, or his monstrously beautiful, dribbling cock. In either case, when the images chased me, my dream body always found a reason to let herself be caught.

I try again to push the thoughts of Bash and his dick from my mind. I don’t need that distraction today. I have to get my head in the game. This might be my only interview, and God knows why I was even lucky enough to get this one. Maybe they’re the one company in town that don’t have some sort of tie to VI or Edward.

Whatever the case, I can’t afford to screw it up by letting my thoughts wander back to a one night flight with a leather-clad buffoon that I’d be happy to never see again. Even if the sex was pretty incredible. No one has ever gotten me that hot before they even touched me, and I don’t remember ever having come from just sex before.

Of course, a guy like Bash has probably been with hundreds of girls. Probably in that very back office. Even still, when he asked me if I wanted to stay for another round, I was tempted to say yes. When would I ever have sex like that again? With someone like that again? The Evelyn that took over my body that night wasn’t me, but now that I’ve had time to reflect, I don’t regret it. In a lot of ways, that Evelyn was a version of me that I really wish existed. A more laid back Evelyn, more willing to take risks and go with the flow.

And getting fucked by the most dangerous man I’d ever been close enough to touch sure was a risk.

A risk I haven’t been able to get out of my head all day yesterday, or last night.

I need to get it out. I need to forget about that one-time, throwaway encounter and move on. I’ve been out of work for a couple of weeks now, and if I don’t land a job soon, money is going to start to get tight. Edward paid me well, but he also convinced me to move into this apartment, which was only affordable on the salary he was paying me. When I moved in with him, I kept it around. Partly because we were so busy I hadn’t had time to move all my stuff over to his place, but I think partly because I wanted to make sure things worked out. Me trying to minimize my risks again.

I bet Bash has never passed up an opportunity to minimize risks. He probably does things just because they’re risky. He’s an outlaw, living like he does because he’s an adrenaline junkie. He lives hard and fucks harder. Oh God, does he fuck hard.

It’s no use. I have an abundance of time and stress that I need to reduce, and thoughts of Bash that I need to banish. I need to tell someone my secrets. And who better than Jackie?

She’s my best friend. That’s what she’s here for. Right?

I get out of bed, grab my cordless landline, and plug in her number. Usually, I’d text her at this hour. Jackie works as a waitress and she’s almost never up before the afternoon when she has to go in, and texting saves me getting chewed out for waking her up.

But to my surprise, she picks up on the second ring. “Good morning, sunshine,” she chirps.

“Good morning to you, too,” I reply, a bemused smile tickling my lips. “What’s got you up already?”

“Coffee, mostly,” she laughs. “And I had to walk that bartender from Axle’s to the door. Seems he’s an early riser, and in more ways than one.”

I roll my eyes. I was hoping to get my mind out of the gutter, and yet here I am, listening to my best friend’s sexcapades and feeling jealous. I could have done with a morning lay, myself. There’s no better way to relieve this kind of tension, other than forgetting about it completely. I’m hoping spilling the beans will help.

“I was in a similar situation Saturday night,” I confess, padding out to my living room. “With Bash. You remember—the guy who chased off Edward.”

“Oh, my God,” she whispers. “I wondered where you disappeared to, but when you came back out you didn’t say anything! You
skank!
”

I laugh. “You were rather preoccupied with Andy that night. If I recall, you sent me home on my own so you could wait around for him to get off work, remember? And Bash wore me out enough I just wanted to go home to bed instead of waiting around.”

“You’re right. Damn.” I can almost hear her shaking her head at me. “So, how was it? Do those muscles hold up when it counts?”

“Definitely,” I say, starting up my own Keurig coffee pod. “Kinda wish he’d kept his mouth shut, though. Guys like that are meant to be seen and not heard, I think. It’s better that way.”

Jackie cackles. “Listen to you, Evelyn! I think I’m rubbing off on you, finally. Did it help? You know, your mood.”

“Mostly.” I drum my fingers on the counter, waiting for my coffee to percolate. “But now… I can’t stop thinking about it. I know, it’s silly. It was just a one-night stand. And I don’t
really
want a guy like that…”

“Damn right, you don’t,” Jackie says, cutting me off. “Not for a relationship, anyway. But a little casual sex won’t kill you. But you’re right, you just got out of a relationship. You don’t need to be jumping into another one just yet,
especially
not with a guy named
Bash.
When the time comes, you want someone stable. Someone who can take care of you, when the chips are down. Someone who doesn’t make a living breaking pool cues over people’s heads, you know? Besides, that’s more
my
type…”

I sigh. She’s right. And this is exactly what I need to hear, what I need to get Bash out of my head. He’s no good for me long-term, and the kind of girl I am at heart, I couldn’t make it a casual thing without wanting to get more deeply involved. I’d basically be trading one awful relationship for another. Edward was a controlling bastard, sure, but his weakness was a wall of muscle like Bash. If Bash turned out to be a problem, who could stand up against him? What was his weakness?

No. He’s dangerous. Jackie’s right. Even if that’s the very thing that turns me on about him…

“That helps,” I say. “Keep it coming.”

“You don’t need a man muddling things up right now for more reasons than that,” she continues. “Sure, I worry about your heart, but I also worry about your career. And I know you do, too. That’s what you ought to be focused on right now, Evelyn—getting a new job, getting your foot in the door, climbing that corporate ladder. You’re so much better than what they give you credit for, hun. You weren’t meant to be an executive assistant forever.”

I’ve talked with Jackie about this very thing plenty of times. She knows my aspirations. She knows what I went through with VI, and how underappreciated—and overutilized—I was there. Sometimes, it didn’t pay to show aptitude at projects outside your job description. Too many people were willing to take advantage of that, especially billionaire CEOs always looking to cut costs somewhere.

At my next job, I’m going to have to show them that I’m capable, but aware of my value. I won’t let myself be bullied into performing multiple jobs while only being paid for one. Not ever again. I deserve the pay
and
the credit. And like Jackie said, having a man around would just be distracting. I owe it to myself to stay focused on my future.

I straighten a little, my resolve reignited. “You’re a real friend, Jackie. Thank you for reminding me that I have a right to a life that’s all about me. At least, for now.”

“Anytime, Evelyn.” I can hear the grin in her tone. “Now, how about I tell you how my night was?”

“Later,” I promise her. “You just got my mind off sex, and I’m afraid if we start talking about it again, I’ll find myself in the same state I was before I called you. I’ll call you after my interview today, and you can tell me all about it then—all the dirty details.”

“It’s a date, love you,” Jackie says before hanging up.

I set the phone down on my kitchen counter, thinking over how far I’d come. I’m not a vulnerable teenage girl anymore. I’m not an outcast, not the sweet baby bird I used to be. I’m a grown woman now, in charge of her own destiny. It’s a powerful realization, and one that takes the weight of the world off my shoulders… for now, anyway.

Confidence. Confidence is the key to success. After getting fucked by a veritable sex god last night, listening to a pep talk from my best friend this morning, and basking in the results of my own introspection, I feel like I can do anything now.

Except get Bash out of my mind. No matter how hard I try to forget him, or tell myself otherwise, he’s there in the back of my head, the memory of his arrogant smirk making my body betray my brain.

Don’t be so hard on yourself,
I think as I sip my coffee and stare out the window at the waking city,
even Hercules had a weakness.

But did mine have to be a criminal I’d probably never see again?

E
ven after my
quick dildo date and nap, I’m still a few minutes early for my interview. I’m nervous, but I’ve done all I can do at this point. I spent extra time fixing my hair into a half up-do that frames my face, and I’m wearing a black jacket, striking red blouse, and long pencil skirt that ends conservatively around my knees. I even spent more time on my makeup than usual. If I don’t look the part of an executive assistant now, then I don’t know my job as well as I think.

I’ve also researched the hell out of this company. Piston, Inc.

After not hearing back from my first round of résumés, I got a little less discerning last week and began sending them out to a wider range of companies. I’d never heard of Piston before seeing them advertise on the job site, but a quick Google search told me all I needed to know for this interview.

The company is less than ten years old, but has already made a name for itself by building and designing quality engine parts. They’re worldwide and went public only last month, but they’re already valued at north of a billion dollars and have a few thousand employees. It’s a big company, but VI was far bigger, so the size itself doesn’t intimidate me.

There have been a few executive changes in the past, but the current CEO, Hans Peterson, took over about five years ago. I’m not sure I’ll even meet him, though, as the position I’m applying for is to assist one of the executives, which is perfect. I’m done with CEOs for now. I need time to step back and lick my wounds after Edward. I thought I was on track to become an executive myself at VI, but all of that work is lost. Edward would never back up any claims I could make as to the work I did over there beyond being a straight EA. The deals I worked on, sometimes on my own, the relationships I built with clients. It’s unfair, but given the power Edward wields, it’s clear that all I can do is learn from it and move on.

For now, I’ll be happy just finding the right company that I fit into and then deciding on where to go from there. Piston is likely just a stepping stone toward that. But I need something to put on my résumé now that VI has left an unreferenceable void.

The building I’m in now is their new headquarters, right in downtown Chicago. It’s a uniquely designed building that is tall and starts thinner at the bottom and then tapering out at the top. From what I read, the shape was supposed to be reminiscent of an actual piston. I’ll have to take their word for it.

The interview is on the twenty-ninth floor, which, according to the rows of elevator buttons in front of me, is second from the top. At this hour, I’m the only one going up. Piston owns the entire building, with the executive offices on top and sales and R&D down below. Manufacturing is done mostly overseas.

I learned all of that while researching them online. Exceptional research skills is one of the strengths I list on my résumé. Most people think that searching for something online begins and ends with putting a term into the Google box and hitting “search,” but there’s so much more to it than that. I can usually find a lot more about a company or client than is on their typical homepage with a little bit of effort.

Usually.

Piston wasn’t the only thing I had time to research this morning. Just out of curiosity, I looked up the Chrome Soldiers MC. There was surprisingly little info about them out there. I guess motorcycle gangs aren’t generally looking for publicity, but some of the bigger clubs at least had a website, or some mention of them. I did find a couple of passing references, but nothing major. It could just be that they are too small time to get much media attention. Finding that out made me feel a little bit better, anyway. At least it wasn’t like I slept with a contemporary of the Hell’s Angels.