Betting on Stocks (Dead Presidents MC Book 7) Page 15

  Raising her head up, she kissed my chin. “You got some game, white boy.”

  I smacked her ass. “I got your white boy for you.”

  ***

  After I recovered from Monica’s wild wild west wakeup call, we showered, dressed, and went downstairs to scrounge up food and coffee. This time, we almost plowed into Bull. The youngest member of the club stood in the doorway of the dining room with both hands wrapped around a coffee tumbler and a lost look in his bloodshot eyes.

  “Hey brother, you okay?” I asked.

  He shook himself, as if trying to come out of a daze. “Women! I just don’t get ’em.” Then he realized Monica was with me and backpedaled. “I mean, not all women. I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to generalize like that. I should… I should get going. I gotta head to work.”

  Despite his dishonorable discharge, Bull had landed a job at a manufacturing plant. His swing shift hours sucked ass, but he seemed to like the work and promised to put in a good word for me once he built up some rapport. I was grateful he was thinking of me, but wasn’t holding my breath. Lately it seemed like the entire universe was stacked against me getting a damn job.

  Before Monica or I could respond to Bull’s ramblings, he took off. We watched him disappear around the corner before facing each other.

  “He’s right; bitches be crazy,” Monica said with a shrug.

  I squeezed her hand. “Good thing my woman’s a queen, huh?”

  “You think you’re so smooth.” The smile she fought said a hell of a lot more than her words.

  “Like butter, baby.”

  “Let’s see how smooth you are in the kitchen.”

  I made some fresh coffee while Monica took stock of the refrigerator and listed off options. Settling on pancakes and bacon, we got to work. Monica had no trouble cracking the eggs one handed, but mixing the batter was another story. I offered to swap jobs—letting her fry the bacon while I stirred—but she was determined to do it herself. Wedging the bowl between the industrial toaster and the wall, she was finally able to keep it still as she stirred.

  Grinning up at me, she mixed out the last of the lumps before setting it down by the stove with a triumphant cheer.

  My chest swelled at the sight. There was something so perfect about the moment, I had to kiss her. Fisting the front of her shirt, I pulled her against me and kissed her breathless.

  By the time we pulled apart, I was ready to head back upstairs, but the bacon was finished and the pancake pan was smoking. Focusing on breakfast, we finished up, ate, and then cleaned up our mess. By the time we finished, we only had about an hour and a half to get to Monica’s doctor’s appointment.

  The weather had been unseasonably dry lately, but today had taken a turn for the worse. The rain came down in sideways sheets, slopping up the streets and wreaking havoc on rush hour traffic. Taking my bike would have been stupid, so we opted to drive her car instead. Since I knew where we were going, she tossed me the keys.

  Dr. Nuddell had taken excellent care of me, and I was confident he’d do the same for Monica. The long, silver-haired hippy of a doctor didn’t disappoint. He explained all of her options and put the ball firmly in her court, encouraging her to take her time making a decision. He fitted her with a temporary prosthesis to help her get used to the weight and simple exercises, before having her work with a physical therapist. The appointment took a couple of hours, and we left his office loaded down with several pamphlets of information, a temporary prosthetic, and a whole new appreciation for ever-changing technology.

  While I drove back to the fire station, Monica continued to work on her PT exercises. Her temporary prosthetic had limited functionality with only two commands: open and close. She had no problem getting it to close, but opening it was an issue. Hearing her growl in frustration, I looked over to find her glaring at her arm. “Still struggling?” I asked.

  “Piece of shit! I think it’s defective. Or maybe I am.”

  I didn’t like her talking about herself like that. Since my foot didn’t need to do half the shit her hand needed to do, I lacked the experience necessary to help her. Instead of advice, I had to settle on encouragement. “Keep at it; it will get easier,” I replied. “Next thing you know, you’ll have your permanent prosthetic and you’ll be handlin’ shit like the next Misty Knight.”

  She stared at me. “I have no idea who that is.”

  Unable to believe my ears, I gaped at her. “As in the comic book character.”

  Shaking her head, she chuckled. “Ohmigod, you are so nerdy.”

  But the sound of her laugher was much better than listening to her berate herself. If it made her laugh, I had no problem with being a nerd. Encouraged, I kept going. “What? You don’t wanna be a superhero? Why would you choose to be basic when you can be a badass?”

  “Possibly because superheroes aren’t real.”

  “I’m not tryin’ to hear that noise. You know what we gotta do, babe? We gotta hold a funeral for your excuses.”

  She groaned. “You’re like the worst motivational coach ever. Stop. Please, just stop.”

  “I mean it. You gotta keep working and when you finally succeed, it’ll be one more brick in your shit house.”

  “I don’t even wanna know what that means.”

  So I started singing. “She’s a brick… house. She’s mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out.”

  Rolling her head back, she wasn’t even paying attention to her hand as it opened.

  “Babe.” I nodded toward her hand. “You did it!”

  Her entire face lit up. Emotion flickered in her eyes, but she blinked it away. “Thank you.”

  Monica

  THE NEXT TWO weeks passed in a blur. Despite his best efforts, Stocks still hadn’t found a job. He was trying to keep his frustration at bay, but every time he checked his messages, I could see disappointment written all over his face. Like me, he didn’t need a job since he received a disability check every month, but he wanted one. And I didn’t want his self-worth to plummet because nobody would hire him.

  Still, it was nice to spend my days and nights with him.

  It wasn’t like we planned every waking moment together; it just happened. Being around him was so damn comfortable, it felt kind of like wearing a pair of flannel pajamas with no bra on Christmas morning. Of course I wanted that feeling all the time. Who wouldn’t?

  Whenever I accomplished something new with my arm, he was the person I had to show.

  Every time he opened a rejection email, I was there to comfort him and take his mind off it.

  Living every moment by his side just… worked.

  So, when he was recruited to help with the Copper Penny remodel, I decided to tag along and lend my help, rather than trying to find my own hobby that didn’t involve him. Ready to work, we met up with a handful of other bikers and a few women at the bar. Spade was the man leading the construction, and he seemed to know his shit. He demonstrated how to rip out the old bar’s ductwork before leaving us to it while he measured and cut replacement panels.

  Despite telling me he wasn’t a good carpenter, Stocks picked it up quickly and seemed to enjoy working with his hands. And I’m not gonna lie, watching his muscles strain as he ripped shit apart and tossed it aside was no hardship for me. Hell, I’d pay good money for that privilege.

  Since my permanent prosthesis wasn’t scheduled to arrive for two more weeks, my temporary arm restricted me to tasks like fetching tools, drinks, and supplies for the guys. I used it as often as I could. Sometimes I spilled a drink or knocked something over, and one of the smartass guys would pop off with something to make me laugh at the situation.

  Despite the nasty old smells our demo work kept releasing, I couldn’t have picked a better environment to practice using my arm in.

  While removing the old ductwork, we found several patches of rot, so the job extended to include the removal and replacement of lumber where needed. Nobody seemed to mind the extra work one b
it. We were on day four of what was only supposed to be a two-day job when Stocks was surprised by a phone call. Hoping it was finally a potential employer reaching out to him, I waited impatiently for him to fish the cell out of his pocket and check out the screen.

  His brow furrowed when he saw the caller ID. Shaking his head to let me know it wasn’t a job, he answered. “Stocks here.” I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the line, but whatever was said instantly set him on edge. “What? Is she okay?” He listened some more. “Yeah. Of course. Anything you need. Monica and I will be right there.” Hanging up, he blew out a breath. “Lily’s been hurt. We gotta head over to the fire station and help Emily. I’m gonna put away my tools. Will you let Spade know and meet me by the back door?”

  I had so many questions, but Stocks was upset and I could tell time was of the essence, so I bit my tongue and beat feet to find Spade. Once our tasks were complete, Stocks and I met up and jogged over to the fire station.

  Unable to contain my concern any longer, I asked, “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know much,” Stocks said as we reached the door and he let us in. “Emily said Lily’s shook up, but safe for now. They’re waiting for us in Link’s office.”

  That sure as hell didn’t tell me much. Safe for now? Was she unsafe before? Would she be unsafe in the future? Continuing to bite back my questions, I followed Stocks through the common room, down a hall, and into the office of the club president where we found Link sitting behind his desk, holding Jameson on his lap. Looking like he was two seconds from annihilating the world and everyone in it, Havoc stood beside Link with his arms folded in front of him. Emily, Sasha, and Naomi all crowded the sofa. As we drew near, the girls moved out of the way to reveal Lily curled up on one of the sofa cushions. She was holding an ice pack over her left eye, her lip was split and leaking blood, and anger burned in the eye I could see.

  Stocks tugged his hand out of mine and stepped forward to get a better look. “What the fuck happened?” he asked in a tone that sounded more like a roar than a question.

  Raising her head, Lily met his angry gaze with her own. “I got jumped at the shelter. They took my backpack.”

  “Jumped at the shelter?” His brow furrowed. “Last month when you asked about learning self-defense… I thought you were just trying to get close to Bull.”

  Color flooded her cheeks and more anger poured off her. “Looks like I should have focused more on the self-defense, huh?”

  “I didn’t know, or I would have insisted that you take those classes.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t really think those bitches would attack me.”

  “What bitches?” Stocks threw his hands in the air. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Emily stepped forward. “A couple of girls from the shelter have been giving Lily a hard time. They wanted a necklace she wore that her late grandma had given her. She didn’t want to provoke them, so she stopped wearing it and put in her backpack. They caught her alone and did this…,” she gestured at Lily, “before taking her bag. Did I get everything right?”

  Lily nodded.

  “Where’s Bull?” Stocks asked. “Why isn’t he here?”

  Emily chewed on her lip, dropping her gaze.

  “He’s at work, and I don’t want him involved,” Lily replied. Lowering her voice she added, “Not like he wants to be involved anyway.”

  Glaring at Havoc, Julia patted Lily’s shoulder as Sasha frowned and looked away. I don’t know what all had gone down before we joined the group, but the air was thick with tension.

  Stocks frowned at Lily’s answer. “Okay. What’s the plan, and how can I help?”

  “I’m sorry.” Lily’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to come to you guys for help, again, but that necklace is the only thing I have left of my grandma… of my family, and I don’t know what else to do. I tried to talk to Ms. Helen about them before, but she won’t listen. Those bitches can have the rest of my stuff—I don’t even care anymore—but I can’t lose Grandma’s pearl. My grandpa gave it to her when they were dating and…” She angrily swiped at her tears. “I have to get it back.”

  I barely knew the girl, but Stocks had told me she’d led one hell of a rough life. Until now, I hadn’t realized she was living in a shelter. She couldn’t be much older than her early twenties, yet she sounded so damn hopeless. My heart went out to her. “Do we have a plan to get it back?” I asked, joining in the conversation.

  Naomi smiled at me. “I knew you’d be down to help.”

  Of course I was. Lily was clearly important to all of them and someone had fucked with her. I’d do whatever I could.

  “Let’s roll,” Emily said, tugging her keys out of her pocket. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  Emily, Sasha, Naomi, Lily, and I squished into Emily’s Jaguar and headed to the Sacred Peace Women’s Shelter with Stocks and a prospect riding their bikes behind us. While she drove, Emily explained that she’d dealt with this particular shelter before, and they didn’t take kindly to male visitors, which was why Link had insisted she take so many of us girls along. Julia wanted to come, but apparently our pregnant friend had lost that battle to her overprotective husband, which was why I’d been called in.

  It also explained why she’d been glaring daggers at him.

  “So… why are Stocks and the prospect following us?” I asked.

  “Because even though you and Naomi have been trained in hand-to-hand combat, Sasha’s a former cop, and Sasha and I are both packing, my husband thinks we need at least two men to have our back in case things get rowdy at the womens’ shelter.”

  “That’s… interesting,” I replied. On one hand, it was sweet that the men were so protective. On the other hand… it was also a little insulting.

  We parked and headed up the walkway. Stopping behind Emily’s Jag, Stocks tugged off his helmet and gave me a thumbs up. Even though his presence wasn’t necessary, I always felt more comfortable with him around.

  “I keep reminding myself that the Neanderthal loves me and wants to keep me safe,” Emily continued as we approached the front door. “Which is why we’re humoring him.”

  “We humor my stubborn-ass brother a lot,” Naomi added, knocking. “I only do it to shut him up.”

  A few seconds later, the door cracked open, and a little old lady peered out at us. Her eyes widened as they landed on Lily, and she swung the door open, revealing a weathered face full of concern. “Lily?” the old lady asked, gesturing the girl forward. “What on earth happened to you, my dear?”

  “Mindy and Rita. They jumped me and took my stuff, Ms. Helen. We came to get it back.”

  Ms. Helen’s caterpillar-shaped eyebrows rose. “Mindy and Rita did this to you?”

  Lily blew out a breath. “I told you they’ve been picking on people. Jean and Soraya left because of them. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “You had no proof. We give all our residents the benefit of the doubt, and Jean and Soraya did not come to me themselves.”

  “Of course they didn’t, they were scared.” Lily sounded frustrated.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t realize...” The old lady trembled, drawing my attention. I couldn’t help but notice bruising up her forearm that looked a hell of a lot like handprints. Elbowing Naomi, I held up my forearm and nodded toward the old lady.

  Naomi scanned the old lady, then her eyes widened and she stepped forward. She reached for Ms. Helen, and the old lady winced. “Ms. Helen, did Mindy and Rita hurt your arm?” Naomi asked.

  Shaking her head, Ms. Helen stepped back and slid her injured arm behind her back. “No. I fell down the stairs.”

  Sure. Her and every other battered woman in the world.

  “Hello, Ms. Helen,” Emily said, stepping forward. “I’m Emily Stafford. We met once before when I was looking for Lily the last time she was hurt.”

  Ms. Helen puckered her lips like she’d just eaten something sour.
“Yes, I remember.”

  “Do you also remember that I promised to help and protect Lily?”

  Ms. Helen nodded.

  “You trusted me, and I kept her safe, didn’t I?”

  Again, the old lady nodded.

  “Those girls took something special from Lily, and we’re here to take it back. While we’re at it, we can help you get rid of them.”

  Ms. Helen glanced back at the door and fear filled her eyes. “I… can’t. They’ll kill me. They pulled a knife on me and…”

  “We’re going in there to get Lily’s belongings back. I’m sure those girls will be awfully angry when we leave, and I don’t want them to take their anger out on you. This is my sister-in-law, Naomi, and her best friend, Monica, who both trained to fight in the military. Sasha here used to be a cop, and I deal with criminals every day. The four of us can handle two girls, but even if we can’t, we have backup.” Emily gestured at Stocks and the recruit who now stood in front of their bikes, looking intimidating. “Those two also trained to fight in the military. If you want to be free of those girls, now’s your chance.”

  “How? What will you do with them?”

  “Lily will take us in and identify Mindy and Rita. We’ll remove them from the premises, and wait until the cops pick them up. I’ll contact the DA and make sure he knows the situation. Then I’ll help you file a restraining order and do everything in my power to make sure those girls don’t step foot on this property again. We’ll also leave you our contact information in case you ever need help like this again.”

  I’d always liked Emily, but now I fully understood why Naomi spoke so highly of her. The club’s first lady was offering the protection and assistance of herself and a motorcycle club full of former servicemen to a little old woman who could offer nothing in return. My mom once told me that a person’s character was defined by the way they treated someone who could do nothing for them, and Emily had character in spades. She may not have served in the military, but she served.