Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel (11 page)

I saw his feet stutter and his shoulders square but he didn’t turn around when I spoke.  Just lifted two fingers of his right hand which he flicked my way.

The typical good-bye of an ever-so-cool Hellion biker.

Chapter Nine

Bishop’s mind was a muddle as he rode the sleepy streets of Missoula, making his way home after seeing Dory.

Christ! 

His beautiful ex-wife had only gotten better in the years she’d been away.  Not that she hadn’t been the stuff of dreams when they’d been married.  But the woman she’d grown into blew that innocent young thing right out of the water.

What had she gone through to give her that level of poise, that kind of confidence?  Because he sure as shit didn’t believe it was just from being a mom.  Although, after meeting J.R., Bishop could understand raising that kind of kid could force a person to step up their game.

Jesus, the kid was a pistol.  Smart and so sure of himself, much more than Bishop had been at that age.  And could think on his feet, if the way he’d responded to Bishop’s wink as they’d been introduced was any indication.  Bishop didn’t think Dory would appreciate knowing her son had called him on the sly and had winked to tell J.R. that he wouldn’t be a snitch about it.  The kid’s nod in response was clue enough that Dory would be kept in the dark.

He pulled into his driveway and stowed his ride in the detached garage, his brain still working through their meeting.  A meet that hadn’t been arranged or planned to death before it happened.  But he hadn’t been able to wait, hadn’t been able to stay away knowing that she was in town.

He’d been on pins and needles all day aware, so very aware his Dory was on the road, making her way back to Missoula. 

Or to him, if he was gonna go the self-honesty route.

So much so he’d had to take notes at the attorney’s office, his brain unable to take in all the info while it was filled with memories of Dory and of the ‘them’ they used to be.  But he’d notated all the points the legal-beagle had made, of the documents that needed to be supplied and of the decisions he would have to make regarding tying up the loose ends of his life.

Letting himself into the house, Bishop briefly scanned the rooms finding the kitchen completely gutted.  It seemed as if the Hellion crew had put in a full’s day work, finally getting the last of the old removed.  There was a certain symmetry to it, he decided.  On how his past, the scattered bits of his life were being put in order on so many different levels.

He hung up his cut on the rack attached to the wall by the door and made his way down the hall to his bedroom.  But it was all done by rote, out of habit because his mind was still filled with the images of her, of the sound of her voice and her laughter as they’d talked.

And, Christ!  The things they’d talked about. 

He would’ve bet his fucking bank account she’d
never
want to talk about the Hellions.  Not since so many of their fights had been over his involvement with them as a recruit and for her to ask about them had stunned him to his core.  She hadn’t even asked him to remove his motherfucking cut, for god’s sake!  The one thing she’d screamed at him, telling him in no uncertain terms had no place being worn in her presence back in the day.

Shit, what a difference a few years made!

Shucking out of his t-shirt as he moved, Bishop was assailed by the smell of her on the fabric and brought it to his nose.  There was the aroma of some kind of perfume, something that smelled both light and expensive.  But underlying it all was just the fucking scent of
her
, of just his Dory and he breathed it in, closing his eyes at the memories the fragrance brought to mind.

One of wild days and wilder nights. 

Of long limbs twining and tongues dueling.

Where soft sighs and fervent moans punctuated the not-so-quiet silence of whatever room their passion had found them in.

And where the sweet, the goddamn sweetest of satisfied relief had claimed them both.

 Tossing his shirt into the hamper as he shut off those particular memories, Bishop turned on the water at the bathroom sink before lifting his eyes to his reflection. 

Had she noticed the march of time on his face as he’d seen on hers?  But he’d liked seeing the laugh lines her skin held.  Those faint wrinkles spoke of a life well lived, of happiness both given and received.  Even if he hadn’t been a part of it, Bishop had always wanted Dory’s life to be a good one, one filled with love.

But he hadn’t missed the fact that Dory wore no ring, something Ally had confided and expounded on in his few moments with her while waiting for Dory to return.

Which wasn’t to say she didn’t have a man back in Casper
, his heart whispered.

“Yeah, but he fucking ain’t here now,” he told his reflection and was surprised to see a self-satisfied grin crease his face before reaching for his toothbrush.

After finishing up with his evening ablutions, Bishop struggled out of his boots and socks, shucking both his jeans and boxers in one fell swoop before situating himself underneath the bedcovers, shaping his pillow into the mound he enjoyed.

It had been a long day, a successful day even with all its high and lows.

And he sighed as he closed his eyes.

Never once realizing he hadn’t had a need for any kind of pain relief in the evening hours.  In the time anticipating her arrival.

Not even knowing for the first time in months, his pain-o-meter score would have read ‘zero’.

*.*.*.*.*

“What are we supposed to do here again?” J.R.’s voice seemed loud as it echoed in the alley of the storage facility as I spun the combination lock on the door to my unit.

It was my turn to roll my eyes albeit with my back turned as I once again patiently tried to explain our mission.  “When my mom died and I turned eighteen, I packed up what I thought was important and stored it here.”

“And we’re supposed to go through it, right?  Decide what we’re taking back and what you want to get rid of?”

I rolled the door up as I answered, my voice much quieter than it had been.  “Yeah, baby.”

What greeted us both as the door clanged on its rollers was more than daunting.  Boxes and boxes and even more boxes were the first thing my eyes caught on before drifting down to the edges of the out-of-fashion furniture that was on view.

“Geesh, Mom.  Hoard much?”

I shot my glance to my son, but I couldn’t deny what was staring us both in the face.  “I don’t remember there being so many…”

The look J.R. gave me as he reached for the nearest box pretty much echoed my feelings at the humongous task before us.  I’d only planned the job to take about three, maybe four hours but from the sheer volume of stuff shoved into the tiny space, it was very clear I’d underestimated.

I could feel his eyes on me and scrambled to figure out a way to get through it all before we were scheduled to leave on Monday.  Or to fit everything I deemed important into my SUV along with our luggage.   “Tell you what?  Why don’t you bring the boxes down onto the driveway, open them and I’ll pull out what we need to take back?”

“So I’m the muscle and you’re the brains?  Is that it?”

I smiled at his summation even as I reached for the first bit of cardboard.  “Hey, it’s a plan, kid.  Have you got a better one?”

He nodded and chuckled.  “Ever seen Storage Wars?”

“And sell off your inheritance, sight unseen?”

“Yeah, like I’d be salivating, just waiting for a chance to uncover shi…erm, stuff like this.”  His voice was a boyish growl as he brought down the closest box.  It was the first time I’d heard that particular sound, one that was so reminiscent of Stan’s.

I couldn’t help my chuckle at his words because I absolutely couldn’t disagree.  The thought that I’d been paying to store all my mom’s old junk I didn’t need or want for years upon years seemed ridiculous at that moment.  “Let’s just get through it, okay?  The sooner we start, the sooner we can finish and get on to some fun.”

It was sometime later, with me crouched down going through yet another box of paperwork before I became aware of the sound of motorcycles making their way towards us and our line of cardboard.  One that was taking up almost half of the driveway.  I shot a look behind me only to see J.R. stop, his eyes eager in anticipation at what would be revealed when the bikes rounded the corner.

There were two large machines slowly traversing the asphalt, and I watched as they stopped just a few doors down, opposite of where we were.  Sunglasses were turned in our direction before one of the big men turned off his motor and went to the huge door of their massive unit.

The other engine was shut off and I heard the man seated on his ride offer up a deeply spoken, “hey”.

I stood up slowly after seeing the Hellion patch on their cuts.  “Morning.”  The squeak of J.R.’s shoes when he walked towards me seemed overly loud in the quiet that now filled the avenue within the storage facility.

“Who are they, Mom?” my kid asked on a low note.

I darted a glance at him before turning my gaze back to the men.  “Part of the same group Mr. Bastian belongs to.”  Both of us stood transfixed as their door was raised and we could see the twinkling of chrome exposed in the sunlight.

“Holy shit,” J.R. breathed in what couldn’t be described as anything but awe as a plethora of Harleys came into view.

“Watch your language,” I muttered but without any demand, taken with the sight of the row upon row of motorcycles that were lined up handlebar to handlebar.  But the men must have heard our exchange because both of their heads turned back to where we stood.

The dark-haired one began to make his way to us.  “Ain’t ever seen you here before.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, feeling my heart pick up its pace with every step he took in our direction.  “I’ve been gone for awhile.  Just came back to clear my space out.”

“Looks like you’ve made some progress,” the man ground out, but his face held a devastating smile.  One that only seemed brighter as he removed his sunglasses, showing his brown eyes held the same expression as his mouth.  I saw his head tilt as he studied my face.  “You seem familiar, do I know you?”

“We’re from Casper,” J.R. answered and I whipped my head to shoot him a silent ‘shut up’.   He knew better than to talk to strangers!

The blonde man twisted back to our group before he too began to come towards us.  “That city’s been in a lot of convos of late.”

“Convos?” J.R. whispered from somewhere next to my shoulder.

I didn’t even glance his way as I explained, using just one side of my mouth as I spoke.  “Conversations.”

“A redhead from Casper, huh?”  The blonde man’s voice was deep and rich sounding.  “You wouldn’t happen to be Bishop’s Dory, would you?”

I felt my eyebrows hit my hairline at his pronouncement, not just because he knew my name but the fact that he’d named me as belonging to a Hellion and that Stan had called himself ‘Bishop’ on his voicemail.

“Christ!  Dory?”  The dark-haired guy’s bellow could’ve been heard in the next county, causing both me and J.R. to jump at the sound.  “It’s me!  Dare!  God, girl.  What’s it been, twelve?  No, thirteen years since I’ve seen you.”

Shit!  Dare?  I studied the face of the huge biker standing in front of me, only then recognizing both the eyes and the mouth of the kid he’d been.  “Hey, Josh.  I mean, Dare.”  He’d only gotten his Hellion name at the end of my marriage to Stan, just a little runt of a guy who’d still been in junior high.  “Nice to see you.”

Dare used his long legs to step over my line of boxes before gathering me into a tight hug.  “Lookin’ good girl even if you’re sporting a haircut meant for a boy.”

I didn’t know how to respond but my hands caught the sides of his vest as he lifted me off my feet.  After placing me back down, Dare turned to my kid.  “And who’s this little shit?”

“J.R., I’d like you to meet Josh ‘Dare’ Gentry who was just about your age when I left Missoula.  Dare, this is my son, J.R.”  My voice was only a croak as my eyes moved between the big biker and my kid, only hoping that Dare didn’t notice that J.R. was the spitting image of Stan.

But at the widening of Dare’s eyes, ones that only got bigger as he did an up and down roam of my boy, I knew that ship had long since sailed.  The large man swallowed deeply, almost audibly, as he tried to recover, finally snaking out a hand toward J.R.   “Nice to meet you, little man.”

“And you, Mr. Gentry.”  J.R. availed himself well, his changing voice only breaking once.

Turning his body, Dare introduced the blonde giant standing behind him.  “This is Huff Carter.  Huff this is Dory Bas…”

“Leone,” I countered quickly and loudly.  “Dory Leone.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Huff.”

Huff’s incredulous gaze though was stuck on J.R. even as he mumbled something that was a socially acceptable greeting. 

There were a few seconds of quiet but before it got too uncomfortable, my boy picked up the slack by taking a step forward and extending his palm.  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter.  Are those your motorcycles?”

We all watched as Huff’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he seemed to recover his power of speech.  “Hellion inventory.  You into bikes?”

“Like I told Mr. Bastian last night,” J.R. replied with a wide smile, seemingly oblivious to the tension that had taken hold of every adult in the group at the mention of Stan.  “I’m way into them although my mom’s not a fan.”

“Would you like a closer look?”  Huff’s eyes turned to mine but instead of polite inquiry I saw condemnation in them.  “That is, if it’s all right with your ma.”

My heart did a hard double-beat, guilt racing along every nerve ending knowing both he and Dare had seen what Stan hadn’t.  At how J.R. was so much like his dad it was almost scary.  “Yeah, sure.  But don’t take too long, J.R.  We’ve still got a lot to do.”

My boy had started moving at the first of what I’d uttered, advancing fast as if I’d change my mind and call him back.  I looked to Dare and saw his deeply held frown while Huff and J.R. walked to the opened unit.