Reinventing Mel: A Hellion MC Novel (20 page)

Funny how a person could be really good-looking one moment and then, once you discover the 'real' them, they no longer held any attractiveness at all.  That's what I'd found with the man my father'd had hand-chosen for me.

Bishop moved to my phone and used the overhead intercom asking for help in reception.  While Jon was still contemptuously perusing the complex, I heard the thud of many boots moving swiftly in our direction.

"Any of you fuckers know pretty boy there?" Bishop asked through clenched teeth.

After a chorus of nopes, uh-uhs and the like, I knew I had to confess.

"He's from back home," I mumbled through unmoving lips before I turned to look for Trey.  "His name is Jon Treviel and he's my ex-fiancé."

"Ssshhhiiittt," Dare drawled quietly.  "No wonder you wouldn't look at us assholes twice if that's the kind of pansy you go for."

Jon closed the car door and did up his jacket before stepping toward the large glass doors.  Unaware we could all see him, he used the reflective covering as a mirror to straighten his tie and run a hand to smooth his hair which had the men surrounding my desk laughing.

"Prissy little fuck, ain't he?" Huff chortled.

I couldn't watch Jon walk through the door and into my job, into my life.  A life I'd created just for me and one he had no business being a part of even if only to visit.  I turned my eyes to my desktop.

"Excuse me, miss?"  His voice had not lost its resonance nor its elegant edge of command which I knew were only veneers.  His real voice, the one that came out when he'd had one too many drinks, was much more rough and demanding.  "Miss?"

I chanced a glance him through my eyelashes only to see him looking each of the Hellion men over in a supercilious fashion.

"Is the receptionist deaf?" he asked the group at large.

I sighed.  In less than three minutes Jon had managed to expose his true self to the men and reminded me in full living color of another reason why I'd left both him and Albuquerque.

Jon was a squeaking complete and total horse's ass that didn't deserve the damn air he breathed.

"No, Jon.  I'm not deaf.  I was ignoring you in the hopes you'd go away," I said with a chin lift as I stood with only the tiniest of shakes that I corrected by resting my fingertips on my desk.  "Why are you here?"

He stared at me before allowing his eyes to go as far down my body as the desk revealed.  Jon opened then closed his mouth a couple of times before he seemed to decide on his words.  "What
the hell
did you do to your
hair
?"

His question was not said in the vein of polite inquiry.  Jon had obviously decided to use his thunderous answer-me-now voice which raised my hackles.  Shooting my eyes to the other men, I saw they weren't any more impressed by Jon's theatrics than I was.

"Why are you
here
, Jon?" I repeated louder and sharper than I had before.

"I would suggest you watch your tone, Lucille," he said leaning towards me, his eyebrows moving together and his lean lips pressing together in such a sharp line they almost disappeared.  "Obviously you've forgotten a few rules while on your…little adventure."

I heard shifting in the bodies behind me and saw almost each one of the Hellions had their legs planted and arms crossed.  Their stance as well as the frowns that were on each and every face gave me confidence.

"Oh yes, I remember your stupid rules, Jon.  You ludicrous decrees that I never, ever agreed to follow."  I was proud at how strong my voice sounded.  "I also remember your stinging punishments for breaking those ridiculous rules as well."

Jon glared at me which I knew was because I was airing what he called our 'dirty laundry' in front people he considered strangers.  Or because I reminded him that I'd never become the mindless puppet he'd insisted on and had tried to force me into becoming.

"She asked you a question which you have still yet to answer,"  Brand reminded from his place at the back of the Hellion crowd.  Jon's eyes tried to find the man who had spoken but quickly came back to me.

He lifted his sharp chin and announced, "I've come to take you home, Lucille."  His tone made it sound as if he as if he was doing me some kind of favor or was rescuing me in some way.

"No," I said calmly, my eyes trained on him.  "No, Jon.  I'm not going anywhere with you, home or otherwise."

I was quickly changing my description of him from horse's ass to a snake.  A wily slithering snake in the grass that twisted and turned in order not to be caught out.

Jon blinked deeply which I knew signaled that he was going to change tactics.

"Of
course
you are, darling.  I mean, just look at what you've become.  That god-awful hair, those cheap, slutty clothes and working for some kind of
gang
, for god's sake."

I heard a couple of low growls from my managers at the word 'gang' but Jon wasn't done.

"This isn't
my
Lucille," he said, allowing his voice to drop that I recognized as another in his collection of ruses meant to fool people.  But I was no longer his fool.  "Not the Lucille Palmer I know and
love
."

"Okay, I'm calling fuckin' bullshit on this…" Dare yelled and I was surprised he'd been able to hold his tongue for as long as he had.  Usually Dare was the first to voice his opinion in any situation.  I held up my hand, palm up, and pointed it the big biker's direction to get him to stop.

"Again, no.  This
is
me.  This is the
real
me, Jon.  Someone I darn-well like and that I'm comfortable with."  My voice didn't allow argument.  "And as for you
loving
me?  That was a squeaking crock then just as it is now.  You love
my father's
position and prestige, not me.  You don't even
know
me.  Not the
real
me."

Jon's face had grown redder and redder as I'd spoken.  I really didn't care if he lost his temper.  Not with all the manpower,
true
manpower, in the room.  And with that knowledge, I was done.  So utterly done.

"It's time for you to leave now," I advised but I don't think he was expecting me to dismiss him so abruptly.  His hand came up and I saw him fuss at the knot in his tie before he slid his hands down the front of his jacket.  "Please go back to Albuquerque, Jon.  You and I are finished.  Even if I returned, it would never be to you. 
Ever
.  Do you understand?"

I wondered if it was wrong of me to be so delighted in watching him trying to swallow his anger, his absolute fury at my words. 

We stared at one another before I heard Bishop.  "Think she fuckin' asked you to leave, motherfucker.  You need some help in that endeavor?"

Someone behind me must have made a move because Jon immediately sneered, "You touch me and I'll sue you for every penny you'll ever make, you cretin scum."

"Oh,
fuck
to the no!  Not on
my
goddamn property!"  Trey's bellow was so loud I was surprised people weren't pouring out of the clubhouse at its volume. 

The large biker rushed towards Jon who was grabbed by both his collar and the seat of his pants.  Dare, who was only a step behind Trey, opened one of the heavy doors and held it open as Trey half-carried, half-walked a now openly furious and sputtering Jon out the door.

As the rest of us hurried out of the building, I saw Trey as he roared out curses and epitaphs I could only guess the meaning of, all the while swiftly maneuvering Jon to the street and off Hellion property. 

It was a wonderful sight and I found myself disappointed that I hadn't caught the whole of it on video.  To be replayed at my new place, with all my guys and their women watching with big bowls of popcorn at our fingertips as we giggled at Jon's high steps.

"If I were you, dude, I'd go chase your client down," Bishop advised the limousine driver and soon the car passed Trey who was by then stomping back up the driveway.

"I want a fucking restraining order against that asshole," Trey yelled when he was almost adjacent to our little group.

"On it," Huff yelled, but he was smiling.

Brand came to stand next to me.  "Are you okay, Lucille?"

"Yes, I am.  I didn't think I would be, but you guys having my back really helped."  I let my gaze touch each one of the men I worked for.  "Thank you.  It really meant it lot having you there with me."

"Okay, enough of this fuckin' emo shit.  I need a drink," Dare announced, slapping then rubbing his hands together.

I turned to go back to my desk when I heard Bishop call out, "where you going, beautiful girl?"

"Back to my office."  I was confused by his question.  That late in the day I knew the men would be in the clubhouse enjoying an after work drink so I wasn't surprised to see them aiming that way.  Especially after the little drama they'd witnessed.

"Turn off your computer, clock out and then come join us," Trey offered.  "We need to introduce you to the Honeys."

I couldn't believe it!  My guys had just invited me into the Hellion clubhouse to not only have a drink but to meet their women.

It was a gift and one I knew I wouldn't turn down since it was one that spoke to me of both their acceptance and respect.

Chapter Twenty

Their group was getting close to Missoula Mel could tell.  Not so much by the road signs but by the way his ass, thighs and back were complaining.  It had been a long damn day with moments of fear, tons of fucking frustration and too much time to think on the last long stretch home.

The frustration was completely and totally on the head of the pres of the Czars.  The man was a fucking nutcase in Mel's opinion.  What should have been a simple thing of the group stopping, calling Trey and then obtaining permission became a five hour delay on their way home.  First the guy wasn't available to take Trey's call, then the Czar president felt he needed to confer with his council on the best way to 'handle' the Hellions as they rode through the thirty-six mile stretch of the 90 freeway.

"Handle, my ass," Silo had yelled, two and a half hours into their wait in Big Timber.  "The fucker is playing who's dick is bigger knowing our men are too the hell far away to have our fuckin' backs."

At one point Silo had put Trey on speakerphone and they could all hear the edge in Trey's voice as he gave them an update on what was doing between him and 'shithead', which is the only name Trey used for the other president.  "We'll be meeting when you get back, Si.  The council needs to decide the best way to nip this Czar shit in the fucking bud.  You feel me?"

Mel knew they all felt Trey's frustration plus their own.  Which only got worse as time wore on.  The only silver lining he could find was that he was up and moving around, although he knew he would've rather had been on his bike making tracks for home and his bed.

But the tension didn't ease after they were finally given the go ahead to ride in early afternoon.  It simply shifted into a different type, the sort where a man didn't go quite as fast and was aware of every other person on the road.  Where he were so attentive to every little detail in each thing his eye landed on that he was almost hyper-sensitive. 

For Mel that meant his eyes were more on his rearview mirrors than they were on the stretch of asphalt in front of him.  Where the rush of wind carried a sound and the feel of road dust and debris were precise pings on his denim covered legs.  That even a shift in the shoulders of the two riders in front of him had him scanning the roadsides looking for trouble. 

It wasn't until they stopped in Three Forks that Mel understood that it'd been good that Bishop hadn't loaned him a gun.  Because he knew that for those thirty-six miles, the longest thirty-six miles of his life, he would've have that bad boy in a white knuckled grip as they traveled through Czar acreage.  And with the fear that echoed in his veins even as he was beyond it, he could've have done stupid shit that would've caused even more danger either to himself or to his club.

Dice pulled both Mel and Transport closer as Silo went to get a round of energy drinks.  "This is the hardest part of a damn run, boys.  The last fuckin' quarter back to Missoula.  Your asses are tired, your kidneys and balls feel like they've been in a goddamn blender and you're so hella tired you're almost seeing fuckin' double.  We're not going to push it because a tired biker makes fucked up decisions.  And fucked up decisions lead to mistakes.  We don't need no goddamn road rash or bike flipping shit going on, yeah?  So take a clue and let's just keep our pace knowing we're almost fuckin' there."

As a pep talk, Mel gave Dice's speech a two out of five but only because he was too tired to really give a rat's ass.

But what the man said had turned out to be true.  Without the hyper-vigilance of before, Mel caught himself thinking way too much. 

He thought about Der and how much it would hurt to have him leave.  The kid needed more schooling than what was on offer where he was though and luckily Bishop had seen that more than Mel had, if the completed forms told a tale.  He just hoped his kid brother wouldn't keep himself distant once he went back to Texas.  Their family had gone through a lot together and Mel wanted to insure that just because they weren't living close didn't mean they wouldn't remain close going forward.

He thought of Julie and vowed to address his concerns with Dee regarding his sister's participation in the Honeys.  It was one thing for her to be 'looked after' or 'taken care of' by the women of the club, but he didn't want his sweet Jules to mimic their coarse speech and mode of dressing.  She was still too young, in his opinion, to be exposed to the rougher side of club-life and hoped that the more stable women like Reese and Dallas would be his sister's main influences.

Man, the club was becoming his whole life something he hadn't realized would happen when he agreed to join as a recruit.  Not that the last week or so hadn't been pretty good.  He was sitting on a sweet ride he was coming to treasure, had more brothers that were becoming friends and was learning a hell of a lot. 

Christ, he'd even had sex with four women in a week! 

Wait…what?

For some reason that thought didn't make him feel as macho as he believed it should.  Wasn't that every guys dream?  To bang as many women as possible before you settled down and got married?

The thing no other guy had mentioned though was how damn lonely some of those encounters found him feeling afterward.  It stood to reason if he didn't or couldn't talk to the girl before he did the deed, then he wouldn't have anything to talk about with her when it was done.  A fact a hard-on didn't seem to care about before it got it's action.

So there'd be nothing left to say except for the words that Carmi, Tight and even Chrome had used.  Words like, 'thanks' and 'it was fun'.   Polite words that may have been sincere but were just a hair short of being courteous and without feeling.

It hadn't been that way with Lulu, though.  But he'd expected his other encounters were impersonal, more a case of mechanics, because he didn't know the woman behind the body.  They hadn't shared jokes, swapped stories or built any kind of connection between them except for the sex.  Which, for him, had made the fucking less.  Less satisfying on a level he realized was important to him.

Not that being with Lulu had been the greatest.  Well, it had been for him, but he was sure she'd figured out he'd been a virgin.  How could she not with his bumbling and fumbling?  With his ineptitude and lack of moves—not that he'd acquired any with the other women, but with them he hadn't felt the lack as much as he had with Lulu.

Because she hadn't made him feel that way.  Like he hadn't known what he was doing or that he was just some silly young stud that ached to be inside her.  Even if it had been truth.  No, with Lu he'd been satisfied on every level.

She seemed to enjoy it though.  Hadn't she?  Mel cast his mind back over their one night together.  Yes, he was sure she'd hit in more than a couple of times.

What if Chrome's chattering about what he needed to be doing was what all women expected?  Did he really use too much spit when he kissed?

Mel could feel his face heat at the thought.  Did Lulu think he kissed like some Saint Bernard or something?  

He remembered the other things Chrome had instructed him on and his humiliation increased.  Watching porn had taught him a lot of things but Mel could watch a brother ride his hog from sunup to sundown and never have a fucking clue how to drive it himself.  A person learned by doing something again and again until they got it right just the way he'd learned to ride.  And the way he'd learned to beat on others in order to hurt them but not seriously injure them.

Maybe sex was like that.  Perhaps he just had to keep practicing until he got it right.  But then that would mean that he'd have to have more mindless, disconnected fucking which made him feel lonely.

Shit, his mind was caught up in stuff was too deep to think about when he was so tired.

He shifted his hips to try and find a more comfortable position and glanced over at Transport.  He was sure his fellow recruit had learned almost as much as he had about runs, the club and more importantly himself.  While they'd only been gone three days, to Mel it felt a hell of a lot longer and he couldn't wait to get home.

His plan was to empty the saddlebags with Rinse, return bags to Dare, put Der on the back of his bike and then head home only calling Dee for Jules when he was there.  He'd stayed in touch with his sister while he'd been gone but had only been able to get reports on his brother by any person that answered the direct line to the clubhouse kitchen.  Both had seemed to have done well while he was gone but he'd rather get the info himself preferably while they were all together.

City limits!  Mel wanted to do fist pumps at the sight of the Missoula sign.  Only a few more minutes and his first run would be done.  There was no denying he felt close to Silo, Dice and Trans after all they'd gone through together and that some kind of bond had been created between them.  Plus he knew having the senior brothers observe his skill in enforcing HC's terms of payment had earned him their respect. 

Something Dare had said was vital in obtaining approval for membership.   After one of their training rides, his sponsor had broken it down regarding the process to become a full member.  "You fuckin' need 100% of the vote in order to patch out.  That's
all
the fuckers in the club, dude.  For every ten 'hang-arounds', or 'hang-ons' as Trey calls 'em, only about five will make it to recruit.  And of
those
fuckers only about three,
three
man, will earn their patch.  So you gotta shine in fuckin' everything you do.  All eyes are on you as a recruit and because you're fuckin'
my
damn choice that scrutiny will be
constant
.  Under the fuckin' microscope, dig?"

Mel parked his bike and wasn't surprised to see even Silo and Dice were trying to stretch after unpeeling themselves from their machines.

"Be it ever so fuckin' humble…" Silo growled with a smile, slapping Dice on the shoulder.

"Thinking I getting too fuckin' old for this shit, Si.  Need a gallon of scotch to kill the pain in my ass."  Dice rubbed his butt and seemed to walk with a slight limp as the group made their way to the clubhouse.

Silo turned back to the recruits.  "Next step of a goddamn run is where you report in.  Important, yeah?  You don't fuckin' do it through the phone either.  Recap of a run needs to be fuckin' done
in person
to the highest ranking brother available, even if you have to fuckin' drag their ass from one of the rooms behind.  Comprende?"

As the group got closer to the door, Mel could hear music, lots of laughter and talk spilling out of the clubhouse.  It almost sounded like a party was in progress and he wondered what had gone on at the compound or with the club while he'd been on the road.

The sight that greeted him though was so far from what he expected that he stopped just inside the doorway and stared.

There was Lulu in one of her fancy dresses with petticoats and high heels holding court on one of the barstools that was turned towards the big room.  She had a short, fat glass in one hand as she threw back her head and laughed uproariously .  The large group around her, comprised of the council and other brothers as well as a few Honeys, were laughing along with her.

Catching sight of the dirty, tired group that had just entered, the laughter died away but the smiles held.

"Mel!" he heard Lulu cry loudly and watched as she handed off her drink, slid down from her chair and came running towards him, her tall heels click-clacking and skirts swishing as she moved.  Her smile was as wide as the arms she held out as she closed the distance between them.  Throwing herself against him he felt the inside of her elbows on either side of his neck as she shoved her face into his collarbone.  "I missed you so much!"

Over her shoulder, he saw more than a few eyebrows were raised at the receptionist's affectionate move or maybe it was her enthusiasm at seeing him.

"I'm filthy, precious," he advised, giving her waist a squeeze and then tied to step back but Lulu was having none of it.

Letting go of him with one arm and half-turning back to the room, Lulu announced, "Hey, everybody.  It's
Mel
!  He was my very first friend in Montana!  Isn't he
hot
?"

The room erupted in laughter.

He had no control over the heat that crept up his neck and into his face at Lulu's proclamation.  But there seemed to be an air of expectation among the group as if he was supposed to speak.  "Thanks, Lu.  But I've, ah, I'm supposed to report to Trey now."