Survivor: Steel Jockeys MC (8 page)

Joe had given Ruby her purse back--cell phone, gun and all--in a show of good faith. In Desiree’s bathroom, Ruby scrubbed herself robotically with a shea butter wash, trying to keep weight off her ankle and quickly toweled off. She remembered the restroom at the service station--scraping up the caked mud off her boots and swiping an alcohol wipe across her face to remove the dirty streaks and then pulling a comb out of her purse and working it through the truly epic knots the wind had introduced to her curly chestnut tresses. Joe had let her lean on his shoulder, curling his arm around her waist. He then bought a bag of ice for her twisted ankle and  a cup of hot coffee from the gas station, waiting on guard as she sat at the sole table inside the station and finished it off.

Cat’s Bar and Desiree's boxy little house on the same property were a few miles off the freeway, nestled back in a copse of trees along a lonely county highway. A string of Christmas lights decorated the door but, otherwise, there was no sign of anything calling attention to it, save from the impressive line of Harleys lined up like soldiers in gleaming black uniforms.

Everything about Desiree's house was in miniature, from the tiny shower stall to the galley kitchen, where Desiree made her a grilled-cheese-and-tomato-sandwich and a cup of vanilla tea. Desiree made sure to spike it with a dash of Bailey's, though Ruby had objected at first. She showed her how to work the flat-screen TV and DVD player, which took up more than half the living room, then disappeared back next door, scrawling the number for the bar on a post-it note in case she needed anything. Desiree’s favorite mode of decoration was family portraits. Her siblings at prom, countless reunions and backyard picnics, her parents and even grandparents as children, posing for studio portraits. Desiree and two grinning girlfriends on a white-sand beach in Mexico, margaritas in hand. It all gave Ruby a lump in her throat.
This is what life is supposed to be like
, she thought.

Her mind wandered to Joe. She still knew little about him, but she suspected the decor wherever he lived looked quite different from this. Would it have been so bad, she thought, if Joe had come next door to sleep nearby her, or at least in the next room? She should have insisted he come with her; insisted that she felt safer with him. But no, she scolded herself. Better not to give him the impression that she needed him; she'd already made herself far too vulnerable in that muddy field.

But still, she couldn't help remembering the way he'd looked at her as he leaned against the bar; in fact, she wanted to remember it. It comforted her. She didn't find it intense or frightening, not like the way Fox looked at her sometimes. It was curious, almost beguiled, with a subtle curiosity that seemed to want to follow her out of the room, to be near her for even a moment more.

In fact, her mind had a million reasons to race, but she knew she needed sleep. She dreaded the second the comforting glow of the TV switched off, even if all that was on was late-night infomercials and Food Network reruns. She fumbled for the switch on the lamp beside the sofa.

Outside, motors roared, reminding her where she was--were the bikers leaving, or were more arriving? She hugged Desiree's borrowed pajamas against her, wishing they were made of Kevlar, for how small and unprotected she felt there. Restless, she leaped out of bed and methodically checked the locks on all the doors and the windows; not that it would help her much if someone got a hold of Desiree's keys. She slid back into the sofa bed and pulled the covers up over her nose, trying not to think about the fact that she was alone in a strange house, in a strange place, miles probably from the nearest town, whatever it was.

She glanced at her cell phone's glowing LED and on a whim, snatched it up from the end table, her fingers dancing toward Fox's number. But she dropped it and was immediately ashamed of herself. What good could calling Fox do now, aside from prove to Joe that a promise from Ruby Clarke was worth nothing?

He’d promised her. She owed him that, at least.

She finally closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep.

Sean had never given Joe a reason not to trust him. It was true, he was an opportunist; the exact opposite of Colt, whose Steel Jockeys loyalty ran deep in his veins. Sean had been a Steel Jockey for as long as Joe, but at heart he looked out for himself--he wouldn't hesitate to throw over an ally or a supplier if he felt there was something in it for him, and his propensity for sleeping with the sisters, wives, and even mothers of members of other M.C.s was legendary.

On the other hand, through sheer audacity and occasional recklessness, he'd probably done more than any charter president other than Kyle for turning the younger generation of Steel Jockeys into a force. Nobody who didn't have a death wish challenged him. That strength, Joe had reasoned, was enough to trust that he and Ruby would be safe with him. But he most certainly didn’t expect to hear what Sean was now suggesting to him.

"Why not leave her here?"

Joe put down his glass of Jack on the rocks. "What?"

"Look, Desiree's the oldest of three sisters. She's a girly-girl and, in case you didn't notice, there's not a lot of that around here most of the time. She knows how to take care of her. Plus, there's another little matter Ruby could help with."

"Does this 'little matter' resemble anything I might find on the Spice Channel?"

Sean laughed in a way that was charming and vaguely menacing. "I had the pleasure to encounter Brenda Weston the other day when I was over on some business in Fresno."

Joe buried his head in hands. "Tony's mom? Damn, she's a ball-breaker. I'm surprised that cute little nose of yours is still intact."

"Nah, it was mostly lower-body work this time." Sean gave a rueful grimace, pounding the area near his thigh. "Anyway, she says she's going to get to the bottom of it. She says that since the Reapers popped up, the Jockeys have been nothing but a liability to the Weston clan, and she's going to see that someone pays for it. Whether it's the Reapers or us, she doesn't much care."

Joe moaned. "That's the absolute last thing we need is Brenda Weston going off half-cocked on some personal vendetta. I hope you talked her down."

"Tried. And failed. That's the thing, Joe. Having Kyle Clarke's sister here with us here would be a show of good faith that the Steel Jockeys are on top of things. That we’re still intact and that we can look after our own."

"So that's it? You don't really care about Ruby. You just want to keep her here locked up under glass to trot out if somebody starts questioning how we do things."

Sean grinned. "Oh, you can bet I'll take her out more often than that. She's too gorgeous to be kept in the garage. Speaking of, you taken a spin on her yet?"

"You really make me sick to my stomach sometimes. She has a job, you know, Sean. An apartment. A life. This is 21
st
century America, not Afghanistan.”

"Hey, it's not bad here,” he insisted. “What are you going to do with her anyway? Take her back your little hovel in Madelia? You know she can't go back to Oakland, job or no job. Not when the Reapers are howling the way they have been lately. The minute you turn your back, some Reaper is going to stick a switchblade between her ribs and drag her off to whatever shithole they're hiding out in, and you'll never see her again. Or worse, when you do see her, she'll be on the back of one their bikes. Is that what you want for Clarke's sister? Besides, chances are she won't even want to go back, not after what happened earlier today." Joe took a big swig, trying to calm his nerves. "You haven't told her she can't go back to Oakland yet, have you?"

"Well, if she does, she's going back to Fox Keene."

"Oh, man," Sean hooted, pulling back from his chair. "This keeps getting better and better. What do you mean by ‘back to,’
exactly?"

Joe crossed his arms. "They're close. That's all I know. That’s all I
want
to know. Anyway, it's a mess. She doesn't know the half of it, and she wouldn't believe me if I told her."

"You mean you haven't told her about the night Kyle died?"

"Are you insane? When she first saw me, she looked at me like somebody had released the Kraken. She thinks the rest of the Jockeys are worse. Thank god she hasn’t had a chance to get to know you yet. If I want her to trust me, I need something to work with."

"Speaking of work, where is Aaron Beeson in all this? Your precious supplier whose latest ‘supply’ to Tony was an IV drip?"

"Seems like he took off around the same time Tony got stabbed. I figure if I can root him out, I can at least get an explanation for how they got to him.” Joe had done some thinking on the ride into Fresno, and the good news was that instead of a complete lack of ideas for how to get to the bottom of this quagmire, he at least had an inkling--something he could tell Ruby.  “And then at least I'll know where to start untangling this mess, and maybe even satisfy A.J. and the rest of the guys who won't be happy until whoever killed Kyle is face down in a pool of his own blood."

"Do you think Beeson is with the Reapers?"

"Either that or they got to him somehow. I know Tony believed it was Beeson who called to make the deal; he knows his voice; he's talked to him before. It was Beeson’s burner phone; the last number he used at least."

"How the hell did they get to this guy? I thought he moved to some compound in Mexico.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s the hell’s going on. But I’m going to find out, and I’m going to start with Beeson. If only so I can keep my promise to Ruby to keep her safe. I promised Kyle and I promised her. That’s what matters to me.” The more he spoke the words, the more their truth lodged within him. That
was
what mattered; maybe all that mattered. Despite whatever the M.C. wanted.

Sean stared at him. “You like her.”

Joe pushed back from his chair, hoping he wasn’t making it too obvious that he was dodging the question, and called to Desiree, who was watching a TV in the back room turned to
The Bachelor
. "I need a refill. You?"

"Look at that. Our little Joey Ryan’s in love. Sunrise, sunset.”

"Fuck you," he said, running his hands through his hair. He was beginning to regret not sleeping that night; he was half-tempted to ask Sean if he had a couch in the back room that he could crash on for a couple of hours. He didn't dare try to go next door this late and risk frightening Ruby out of her skin, although he also realized that he didn't like the idea of her sleeping over there all alone. Desiree hadn't told him she'd be heading back to the bar after getting her houseguest settled. "That's not what this is about."

Sean smiled and took a contented and infuriating sip of his whiskey. "Are you lying to yourself or are you lying to her?"

"I'd rather not be lying at all."

Sean put his glass down, lifted his heavy boots up on a chair, and placed his hands behind his back. "Then boy are you in the wrong line of work."

Ruby woke with a start to the sound of Desiree's doorbell. She sat up with a start, flailing around for her phone, only succeeding in knocking it off the end table.

It was past midnight. Somehow she must have fallen asleep. The bell didn't sound again. She waited motionless, arms straight at her sides, not even daring to breathe. Finally, a rapping came gently, then a little harder. Bang, bang, bang. Bang-bang-bang.

Ruby threw off the covers and sat up, her bare feet sinking into the shag rug, making her feel even smaller and more vulnerable. She reached into the bottom of her handbag for the Beretta and cocked it, though it made her feel only slightly less fearful as she crept over to the door. Maybe it was just Desiree, having locked herself out--or, she thought optimistically, Joe coming to check on her. Still, she left the chain lock on the door as she cracked it open.

"Sean," she said, trying to sound casual. "What are you doing here? It's--"

"Late, I know," he said. In the gloom, cold air rushed into the house. He looked darkly dangerous silhouetted against the hazy glow from the single neon lamp outside. His dark hair fell in front of one eye, and Ruby couldn't help but admire again how his eyes shone like black diamonds. His good looks were completely different from Joe's, whose looks were in turn were completely different from Fox's--though she was starting to understand which type she preferred. "But still, I figured I would be remiss in my duty as host if I didn't come see how you were doing." He held up a bottle of Jack Daniels, half-full. "I thought we could get to know each other better."

"Right now? It's past midnight, Sean," she said, wondering whether she was under an obligation to let him in. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the hospitality Sean and his charter had shown them. But she decided to stall him. "Where's Joe?"

"Don't worry about your boy. I gave him a job to do. You know, for being Kyle Clarke's sister, you've got a lot to learn about how things work with the Steel Jockeys."

"I think I would prefer to keep it that way."

"You see," he said, "it's customary when you ask a favor from another charter that you do a little errand in return."

Ruby frowned; something about the way he said it made her suspect this "errand" was more than a run to the dry cleaner's. Sean smiled. "Don't worry. It’s not anything that will harm his pretty face. I promise."

Ruby feared she'd been staring at Joe earlier in the bar. She would have to watch that in the future; letting slip that was she was increasingly finding herself attracted to him was simply another way to show vulnerability in front of those that had the power to hurt her.

"Well, how about when Joe comes back from wherever, the three of us can sit down and have a conversation. Tomorrow morning maybe. You know, in daylight? When normal people usually have conversations." Ruby backed up a little, clutching the Beretta behind her back, the steel warming underneath her hands, trying to scan her exits--but even if she could get past him, where would she go?

A day ago, she never would have believed that the feel of a gun under her hands would start to feel familiar. Much as she hated the idea of letting a man--taller, stronger, and with intentions she suspected weren't nearly as honorable as he wanted her to believe--into the house, she decided the best thing she could do was play along until she thought of an idea to get rid of him. Or even better, until Joe returned.

"He likes you, you know," Sean continued as he stepped into the house and sank into the armchair, unscrewing the cap on the bottle and taking a swig. "He won't admit it, but he does. I'm glad for the kid." Ruby looked at the floor. "He had kind of a rough time of it growing up, you know. Has he ever told you about his family?"

Ruby shook her head, almost forgetting what a vulnerable position Sean had put her in, as eager as she was to learn more about Joe.

"He never knew his dad, and his mom was so strung out on Oxy she barely recognized him half the time. She finally OD'd when he was eight or nine."

Ruby's mouth parted, though she was speechless. She'd told Fox she thought she was cursed. Certainly she'd had worse luck than most, but there was no denying that she and Kyle had been fortunate enough to have had two loving parents for most of their childhood.

She pictured Joe's intense amber eyes looking up at her as she knelt in that muddy field. Those eyes that must have seen so much; suffered so much, not only from a mother who was barely a mother at all, but for whichever of the four winds he'd been cast to after her death. Most of the time he was confident, decisive, as is befitting someone who leads an outlaw motorcycle club, and yet at others it was no wonder he seemed so cautious.

"Relax," Sean said, grabbing her shoulders and guiding her over to the rumpled sheets of the sofa bed. She wriggled out of his grip. "God, are you tense. I know a good masseuse in Fresno--know her a little too well in fact," he added with a chuckle. "If you stay here, I can introduce you. It's not safe back in Oakland, you know. And if Joe takes you back to Madelia, the Reapers will be battering down your door in no time.” He paused dramatically. “What do you say?"

"To staying here? Joe would never agree to that," she insisted.

"Are you kidding? It was your precious Joey Boy who suggested it. Look, I know how girls react to him. Sure, he keeps his head down. Flies under the radar at first. Then bam!” He pounded one fist into the other hand. “Gets you right here, doesn't he?" He touched his chest. "I've known him a long time. He's always been like that. He can steal the girls right out from under me, and that's no small task."

Sean went on. "But he's also poor as shit. He doesn’t even have a proper apartment, unless you count the attic up above the biker bar in Madelia. He told me he knows he can't take care of you like I can."

"Who says I need taking care of?" Avoiding his face, she fixed her eyes on the DVDs on the shelf, studying their titles. "The Notebook," "The Wedding Planner." Desiree liked happy endings, apparently, but the thought of a happy ending, now, just made Ruby's cheeks burn.

"See, Ruby," he said, drawing his arm around her shoulders casually in a way that seemed almost brotherly, and yet it didn't make her feel the least bit safe. "That's another thing about the Steel Jockeys that Kyle probably didn't teach you.

“We're more than friends. We’re brothers. For someone like our Joey, who barely had a family: that means something. It's important to him. And brothers share. And care. It's like that saying, everything we need to know we learned in kindergarten?" He smirked. "Let me tell you a story. Back in the day, Joey Boy and I both knew this one particular girl named Lydia. She was the cousin of our compatriot Aaron Beeson, and the daughter of one of the Jockeys' more successful associates--brains, looks,
and
money.

“We both wanted her, and I had had her first. But what can I say? The minute Joey came on the scene batting his eyelashes, she was gone. I was beaten by the best. Ever since, he's been looking for a way to make it up to me. So me coming here--I mean, if you're worried that your boy will be angry--don't be. He gave me his blessing."

Ruby twisted around. "His
blessing?
" The idea that she was some kind of toy to be passed around, like two "brothers" sharing a cigarette, made the bile in her stomach want to backwash into her throat. Not to mention she wasn’t quite ready for an allusion to Joe’s romantic past, which must have been considerable.

Sean's hand on her thigh seemed to land there like a spark from a fire. She wrenched herself away from his grip, but he grabbed her wrist. In truth, she didn't know which was more terrifying--staying here, or running out into the cold night, defenseless where everyone within shouting distance worked for Sean.

"Sean, what the fuck are you doing here?” said Joe from the doorway.

“Having a heart-to-heart.”

“Looks more like a heart-to--” he cut himself off, as if not to embarrass Ruby with whatever risque term he’d been about to use. “In any case, it’s over.”

Sean raised his arms, the picture of innocence, as he turned to face Joe, who stood looking as dangerous as Sean had when he’d arrived, if not more so. Ruby sat perfectly still, gaze fixed on him. The intensity of his eyes was almost hypnotic. “This is my dad's property, you know. Desiree just rents it from him."

"I meant what I said, Sean," said Joe, gesturing to the door, his eyes glinting like fiery opals. "Get out. Ruby and I are leaving. Give me the gun."

"Let's not be too hasty there, bro. Can't we talk about this in the morning? I'm sure we can work out a mutually beneficial arrangement. "

"My days of making arrangements with you are over. The only reason we came here is because everyone knows none of the Jockeys trusts you anymore, making this the one place we
wouldn’t
think to go." He turned to Ruby, who tentatively reached for her clothes, which Desiree had folded on a nearby armchair. She hoped her hostess wouldn't mind losing a pair of pajama pants, because there wouldn't be enough time to change.

"Joey, don't be an idiot. What are you going to do? Take her back to Bumfuck, USA and have her sleep in a chicken coop?"

"Better than sleeping anywhere near you,” Joe snarled.

Sean took a step back, raised the Beretta and casually cocked it, not pointing anywhere specific, though the body language was clear. "Looks like I'm the idiot. See, I thought we could resolve this with as little unpleasantness as possible. But since you've insisted on making things thoroughly awkward, I might as well let you two know that I'm not the only one here prepared to do whatever it takes to make you see reason."

He crossed toward the door and made a light casual gesture, as if whistling for a dog. "Deke? Wes?" The very floorboards seemed to squeak in protest as two armed, bearded bikers appeared in the doorway, both rivaling Colt in size and dressed head-to-toe in studded black leather and black bandanas knotted around their heads.

Ruby stared at Joe, whose jaw tightened underneath his smooth ivory skin. The complexity of his amber eyes seemed to increase tenfold as he shifted his gaze from her to Sean, and she could almost see his brain cells racing to come up with a plan. "Remember, I said whatever it takes. Including telling your girlfriend here the truth about where you were the night her big brother ate lead."

Joe's entire face went from ivory to white; his beautiful amber pupils seemed to cloud up with horror. He seemed to momentarily lose his resolve. His hand rested on the doorframe, sliding down a few inches. Sean looked down to casually fiddle with the Beretta, as if it were a toy.

"Joe--?" Ruby questioned him, barely a whisper.

"Sean, this is low, even for you," Joe said. "He’s a liar, Ruby, and he's always been a liar." Still, Joe made no further move out the door.

"What can I say?" Sean said with a shrug and a grin. "Even a stopped clock is right twice a day."

Ruby knew Sean enough by now to realize that he wasn't necessarily telling the truth--but the stricken shock on Joe's face let her know that at least something he'd said had hit the younger man in a tender place. However, she couldn't pause now to ponder what Sean had meant.

Besides, that was what he'd been counting on; that his pronouncement would shake Ruby up enough that she would begin to doubt placing her trust in Joe. She had to compartmentalize. She could demand Joe clarify later. Right now, she needed to make sure there
was
a later.

"Joe," she said carefully. "Let's stay. Just for tonight. It's not worth getting into this now when we're all exhausted. We can just deal with it in the morning."

Sean turned to Ruby, a gesture of obsequious applause. "Beauty and brains. I always knew you had good taste, Joey." Ruby held out her hand for the Beretta. Sean hesitated, and Ruby looked to Joe, formulating a plan that she prayed her eyes alone could communicate. Luckily, it appeared he had the same one in mind. Slowly, he crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to Ruby. He looked at her briefly, seeming as if he wanted to put her arm around her, though he must have sensed her jumpiness. She couldn't believe how it suddenly relaxed her, knowing he was close enough to touch. Her skin seemed to act like an electric magnet, drawing her closer to him.