Blood in the Water (Kairos) (11 page)

“Okay.  Three Buds.  Hold the newts.” 

Morse grinned and went to the under bar fridge to get three chilled bottles.  He popped the caps off before standing them on the bar in front of Ashleigh.   She made a show of checking the bottles.

“Newtless.  Thanks.”  She grinned back and headed back to the table carrying the beers.

She handed the bottles over as she sat down; Moira and Dolly immediately took long swigs and then carried on the conversation they’d obviously been having while Ashleigh was waiting on the beers.  Paul was leaning against the bar laughing loudly at something Chiz had said.  Her father had mentioned that the two men had known each other since they were kids. 

Ashleigh had noticed Paul’s smile that afternoon, she’d noticed it a lot, along with the rest of him.  It was wide and unreserved, and he didn’t seem to be afraid of letting it loose.  It was the kind of smile that brightened a whole day.  Ashleigh idly wondered what it would feel like to have a smile like that light up a room just for her.  As bright as his smile was, his eyes were dark.  It wasn’t just their color, they were such a dark brown it was hard to see what was iris and what was pupil unless you were up close, and she hadn’t been that close yet; there was something unsettling in them that she felt in the pit of her stomach.  It was the same feeling she got when she found a snake in the yard before she figured out whether it was dangerous or not. 

In addition to those breath-stealing muscles, his ink was seriously impressive; at least most of the pieces she had seen were very high quality.  His right shoulder and bicep was covered in a hyper-realistic black and grey piece that looked like plate armor.  His left bicep had a black and grey Chinese dragon twisted around it.  There was some heavy, black tribal work on his left forearm that looked fresh.  That was probably the cover-up on his club ink from the Rabid Dogs. There had been what had looked to be a large patch of solid black mostly covered by his beater on his left shoulder that looked as though it might have been another cover up.  Now he was wearing a kutte in the Priests’ colors he’d be getting club ink too.  They usually made a night of that; any excuse for a party.  She wondered where he’d choose to put it, maybe his stomach or his back, and whether she’d end up stuck in the kitchen while it was being done.  It was a couple of seconds before she realized Aunt Dolly was calling her name.

“Ashleigh.  Ash.  Ashleigh!  Darlin’, I’d ask where you’d gone but I think we know damn well where your mind was just then.”

“Huh?  I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Nuh, huh.  Don’t you play that card with me, young lady.  You were starin’ at that new boy so hard your eyes were like to fall outta your head.”

Ashleigh downed the rest of her beer to stave off the blush she felt building and so she wouldn’t have to meet her mother’s eyes.  Her mama was giving her that look, the one with one raised eyebrow that she always got when Ashleigh was trying to deny something and her mama didn’t believe she was innocent.

“Whatever.  I’m goin’ to get myself another beer.  You two can sort yourselves out.”  Ashleigh headed over to the bar and waited for one of the prospects to notice that she was waiting, as they were still serving the patches.  She was driving, so this would have to be her last.  She wasn’t even sure she wanted it.  She’d probably leave without finishing it.  Her plans to go home and open the bottle of white wine chilling in her fridge were interrupted by the warm voice speaking over her shoulder.

“Thank you for this afternoon.”

She turned to find Paul standing behind her.  Maybe it was just his sheer size that made him seem so close.  She probably would have had to crane her neck to look up at him even if he stood a couple of feet further back.  He was at least a foot taller than her.  Her brain seized up almost completely. 

“Oh.  Don’t worry about it.  We were happy to be able to help you out.”

Of course her mother would choose that moment to appear with a plate piled with food that she handed to Paul.  “Here you go, cher.  Gotta make sure you eat.  You must be famished after the day you’ve had.”

Ashleigh was sure she hadn’t imagined the shadow that crossed Paul’s face.  She couldn’t think what about a plate of food could make someone look so sad, even if it had only been for a second.  She knew she hadn’t imagined the look her mother gave her as she passed the plate over and headed back to her partner in crime and culinary matters.

“Your mother sure is a lovely lady.”

Ashleigh couldn’t disagree.  “Yes she is.  She’s a good mama.”

There it was again.  It was gone as quickly as it came, just a quick twist of his expression that was almost heartbreaking.  She was saved from trying to find a topic of conversation that wasn’t so obviously emotive by the arrival of Dizzy and Chiz.

Dizzy settled himself against the bar, and Chiz hitched the hip of his good leg onto a stool so he could rest his arms from the crutches.  “Paul, Chiz tells me you’re good with engines.  Says there isn’t one made you can’t fix.”

Paul shrugged and swallowed the mouthful he’d been chewing.  “I do alright.  I like ‘em better in bikes than cars, though.  Always hittin’ my fuckin’ head on the hood.  But I gotta ask.”  He turned from Dizzy to Chiz, “Chiz?  What’s that all about? It some kinda Cajun take on Charlie?”

“Nah.”  Chiz answered.  “You do one thing with a chisel one time and folks seem to think it’s somethin’ worth rememberin’.  What’s with the ‘Shark’ thing?”

“Somethin’ about me likin’ blood a bit too much.  I don’t know where they got that from.”  Paul’s voice was dripping with a sarcastic mock innocence that made Ashleigh wonder what the real story behind his nickname was.  For all that he looked like the kind of guy who could walk into a place and get on with everyone, that set off a few alarms.

“Really.  I heard some rumors about what you do.  I think that name suits you just fine.”  Chiz replied.

“Yeah, well, when I didn’t keep havta scrapin’ you outta shit I had to find myself a new hobby.”

Ashleigh listened to the men bantering back and forth.  They seemed to have forgotten she was there.  Their conversation seemed to explain maybe a little something about that cold feeling of danger she got around Paul.  She knew none of the boys were angels, her brother and father included.  They were all capable of beating a man into the hospital and worse.  Her father had even served his longest stint in prison for the hurt he’d laid on someone, but Chiz seemed to be insinuating something else, like maybe Paul was up there with the likes of a Hannibal Lecter or Jigsaw, and that did just not fit with the guy who stood in front of her holding a plate of her mama’s cooking and laughing at one of Dizzy’s sardonic comments.

She was about to leave the remainder of her beer on the bar and go and tell her mother she was calling it a night when she realized Dizzy was talking to her.

“Hey, Tink.  How’s work goin’?”

“It’s goin’ well thanks.”  Goddamn, he’d used her nickname, he hoped no one, and by no one she meant Paul, picked up on it.

“What do you do?”  Paul asked.

“I’m a vet.  I work at a practice in town.” Ashleigh breathed an inward sigh of relief.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like her nickname, nearly every patch used it, since most of them had known her since she was in diapers and the name had stuck before she could talk, but she didn’t want to have to relate the story behind it.

“Ain’t an animal around that Ash can’t help out.  She’s got the touch like Dr Doolittle or somethin’.”  Ashleigh hadn’t realized that Tag had joined them until he spoke.

“Yeah, but she’s prettier than Eddie Murphy.”  Chiz leered, but Ashleigh didn’t mind, it was his default setting.

“She’s pretty good at stitchin’ us up.  You just gotta be careful she doesn’t take your nuts while you’re unconscious.”  Dizzy deadpanned.  It was a standing joke that Ashleigh had heard many times before.  They all made a point of patting themselves if they had any call for her to come anywhere near them with medical supplies.

“Tink?  Your nickname?  Is that short for Tinkerbell or something?”

Oh, he had heard it.  “Erm... not quite.”  Ashleigh could feel herself turning bright red.

“Naw, comes from her brother.  Somethin’ to do with stinky diapers.  You know, stinky, tinky, tink, kinda thing.” 

Trust Tag to come right out with the unabridged version.  Ashleigh thought she might well spontaneously combust, she was blushing that hard.  Actually, complete and utter immolation sounded pretty good about now, since the ground didn’t appear to be swallowing her up.  It wasn’t often that Ashleigh felt constrained by the culture in the clubhouse, but right at that moment she wished she was able to punch Tag.  If she had been a patch he would have been on his backside bleeding that very second; but she was a woman, and even though she was the president’s daughter she was for all intents and purposes a civilian.  There was nothing she could do, well, nothing she could do where everyone could see.  God help the big-mouthed idiot next time he needed medical help.  Judging by the look on Dizzy’s face, that could be sometime tonight.

“It’s kinda cute.”  Paul was smiling kindly.  It didn’t make her any less embarrassed.

“Thanks, I think.”  If she couldn’t come up with a decent excuse to escape the mortifying situation in the next three seconds, she was just going to walk out.  She was saved by her brother’s hand on her shoulder.

“Hey sis, can I have a word?”

“Sure.  See you around.”  Ashleigh offered to no one in particular and did her level best not to actually break into a run as she followed Dean over to the recently vacated pool table.

Dean started to rack the balls; Ashleigh wondered if he did actually need to speak to her or if this was a brotherly rescue mission.

“Tink, what’re you doin?”

Not a rescue mission, then.  Ashleigh selected a cue and began to chalk the tip.  If this conversation was going to head into lecture territory, she could at least inflict her passive aggression on the balls.  “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Dean made the break.  “I ain’t blind, sis.  Look, it’s nice seein’ you smilin’ again after the past few months, but you need to steer clear of this guy.  He’s not the sort of guy you wanna get mixed up with, ‘specially since he’s a brother.  Stripes.”

“Why not?” Ashleigh left it up to Dean to choose which point of his warning he wanted to expand upon first.

“It’s just not the life for you.”  Dean shrugged and went to take his second shot.

“Bullshit.  This club is every bit as much in my blood as it’s in yours and dad’s.  Mama and Dolly tried to set me on a different path when we were kids, and it didn’t work and you of all people know how much I fucking hated it.  Why would you pull this bullshit on me now?  And besides, look how well marryin’ a fucking civilian went!”

At first Dean looked surprised by her outburst, but as she continued he began to look contrite.  He held his hands up in surrender.  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.  You’re right about the club.  But, sis, this guy has a bad reputation.  I’m not talking about the everyday stuff.  You think folks joke about Chiz?  This guy is fucking off the scale compared to Chiz.  Please, don’t mess with him.”

Ashleigh heard the plea in Dean’s voice and softened a little.  He wasn’t generally an overbearing older brother.  He sounded genuinely concerned for her.  She took her shot and missed.  “He doesn’t seem so bad.  He’s been nothin’ but polite with me and Mama.”

“He’s a nice guy.  So were Gacy and Bundy,” Dean took a shot.

“You’ve killed people.”  Ashleigh didn’t know all the details of club business, but she was well aware of the darker side of it.  She knew that there was always the chance of serious prison time hanging over everyone’s heads and that they went to great lengths to keep that threat at bay.

“Yeah, I have.  But I’m talkin’ about the people he’s killed that didn’t get to die so quick.  Hear what I’m tryin’ to tell you, sis.  Sure, he’s smilin’ and laughin’ now, but this guy is cold blooded.  He’s probably the only person in this room,” Dean paused, “other than you, who knows what a complete set of your insides looks like.  You need to stay away from him.”