Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel (23 page)

Theirs was a dance that was as old as time and as sensual as anything I’d ever seen, although performed with none of the sordidness that was being displayed by the other couples on the make-shift dance floor of the Hellion driveway.

He’d press against her, swaying before pulling away, his eyes firmly, so freaking firmly on hers as they moved so sexily together.  No one in their right mind could deny that the couple loved one another, desired one another and were so freaking in love that you could almost taste the bond between them.  Could relish that flavor of ‘beginnings’ on your tongue in just viewing the heated movements of the two as they dipped and swayed.

I was so caught up, so thoroughly engrossed in seeing the grown-up version of the kid I’d known and his beautiful bride that I jumped when I heard Stan’s soft voice in my ear.  And at my start, his arm snaked around my waist as if to balance and contain me even though he was pressed so close to my side our shoulders overlapped.  “Can we dance, babe?”

I hadn’t heard him come up to the table, hadn’t realized that my ex-husband had taken the seat next to me as enthralled as I was in watching Dare and Ryley.

A seating arrangement that was so damn familiar from such a long, long time ago.  And I wondered why, even though I was still pissed at his high-handedness, at how he wanted to wrench J.R. from me, I wasn’t angry at Stan’s familiarity.  Maybe it was the booze or perhaps because I’d been able to confront my tormentors and had received support from the other Honeys, but Stan asking me to dance and sitting so close was…nice.

I blinked, shocked by my feelings and turned my head to look at him.  “I haven’t danced since forever, Stan.”

“Think it’s kind of like riding a bike, pretty girl.  Once you know how, it’s simply a matter of doing it until the muscle-memories take right the fuck over.”  Jay-sus.  His deep voice, or was it his hot breath, gave me goose-flesh that ran all along my sensitized skin.  “Dance with me, Dory.”

I twisted my head back to where Dare and Ryley held court, watching spellbound as she arched back, her long hair trailing down almost to the back of her knees as Dare leaned over her and pressed his mouth to her cleavage.  I swallowed as I felt a pulse start in my nipples before shooting sweetly down to radiate and palpitate between my legs.  How would it feel to hold Stan like that, to use my body in order to up the heat that I knew was still between us?

So instead of doing what my body was screaming to do, I went with my brain instead.  “Where’s J.R.?”

I felt Stan’s breath on my cheek and something inside of me melted, giving me permission to relax against him.

“I turned him over to one of the recruits for a tour.  Told Rinse I’d kill him if the kid got into anything he shouldn’t.”

I turned my head back to Stan and found his face was only millimeters from me, his amazing eyes spearing mine.  Ones that seemed to silently beg me to tilt my head closer so our faces could meet.  But that couldn’t be right.  We were divorced, fighting over custody of our kid so sharing a kiss couldn’t be a part of our agenda!

I brought my refilled cup, one that never seemed to empty, to my lips in order to give a clear signal that any sort of mouth-on-mouth action was definitely
not
going to happen.  “Are you going to show me around too?”

“I’d rather hold you in a dance than play tour guide, but if that’s what you need, babe, I’m up for it.”  The slight wetness of his lower lip held me mesmerized and caused another round of shivers or it could’ve been from the loss of his body heat as he scooted away before standing.  “One fucking VIP tour of the audacious Hellion compound coming right up.”

Upending the cup to catch the last of the booze out of it, I took the hand he offered and found my feet, but it was the way our gazes caught that held me captivated and silent.  There were so many emotions in the depths of his eyes, so many that I knew and yet a plethora of others I didn’t.  Ones I didn’t want to even begin to name.  Because then my head might’ve been filled with ideas of want, attraction or even worse, those along the lines of remembered satiation. 

Memories that had no business rearing up inside me over a man who wanted to take my son away. 

“Lead on, biker man.”  I was proud at how efficient my voice sounded, at the business-like tone I’d affected in order to extradite myself from the allure of my ex-husband as well as the alcohol that was starting to affect me.  But I think Stan was on to me, at the play I was trying to make because he didn’t do anything but quirk his mouth up in a one-sided grin.  One that I was more than familiar with since it was one that J.R. had done since he was a baby.

Taking my hand, Stan led me into the Hellion Construction building, a place I’d only visited once back in the day.  Back then, it had been just a huge, open, disorganized warehouse with desks crowded in rows and covered with papers.  But things had changed dramatically over the years.

The reception area was tidy and a welcoming, professional space.  And as he led me down a long hallway before turning left, I saw individual offices had been built that were as clean as the front area had been.  

At the dog-legged corner, the last office along the left-hand side of the hallway before it opened up into the warehouse space, Stan stopped and turned to me.  “This is mine,” he said and I wondered at the pride I could hear in the edges of his voice, that skimmed the grin that he still wore while he opened the door and reached into to flick on the overhead light. 

Glancing at the nameplate on the door, I read the plaques that announced his position.  Or should I say positions, because there were two signs.  One that announced him as the director of IT as well as the manager of security systems.  “You said you were the manager of IT, not the director!”  I don’t know why I found myself upset at the way he’d downplayed his role at Hellion Construction, but I was.  And I wasn’t sure if it was an honest emotion or one that was fueled by the drinks I’d consumed.

“To-may-to, to-mot-to.  Does it matter, babe?”

I didn’t reply but stood in the doorway to Stan’s office although there wasn’t much to see.  A large desk that held two monitors and a keyboard, a desk calendar and a cup full of pens were what greeted my eyes.  There were a couple of scenic prints on the walls and visitor chairs that faced the desk but nothing to give a clue as to the man that inhabited the space. 

Bringing my eyes back to his, I got the impression he expected me make a comment.  “It’s a lot different than the last time I was here.”

“We’d finally convinced the men that held the reins that we needed to become more professional if the construction business was gonna make any money.  Trey finally got them to understand and approve the upgrade about two years before Big Duke died and…”

“He died?”  Duke and his band of cronies were the kind of men that gave young girls nightmares.  Full of themselves and the power they held, they truly had been a law unto themselves, one that ruled the Hellions with an iron fist on both sides of the courtyard.  Not to mention, they were also old, dirty and loved to embarrass and scare the shit out of us younger Honeys.

“The diagnosis of pancreatic cancer was too much for him and rather than let it eat him alive, Duke ate a bullet a couple of years back.”  Jay-sus.  I didn’t know the old bastard had it in him.  In my mind, I could see him losing his life in a bar brawl or due to having it out with a cop.  But suicide?

“What happened to Dee?”  I had looked for her, almost gleeful when I hadn’t seen her with Teeny and Lily.  Dee had been the Queen of the hive when I’d been a part of the Honeys but rather than protect the younger ones, the woman just seemed to turn a blind eye to most of what happened and a deaf ears to any of our complaints.  I’d called her the ‘Queen Bitch’ back in the day.

“She stuck around for a time after Big Duke was gone, working at taking care of the Hellion families here in Missoula.  But she decided to get with ol’ Gus up in Spokane about the same time Dare and Ryley got married.”  I was silent as I watched Stan close his office door after turning off the lights.  We went back the way we came and I idly noted the other offices that were on the other side of the reception hallway.  I saw they’d even built a separate conference room that was tastefully decorated shades of green and rust.

Stan held the heavy glass door open before using a hand on my back to steer me around the groups of people and to the back of the busy forecourt.  And truthfully, I needed the help because my feet kept getting tangled up in themselves.  I made note of the equipment shed as we passed it, which had also been updated.  “Do the teenagers still try to use it for their parties?”

He smiled fully and I got a sense he was remembering when we’d used the dark corners of the building on more than a couple of occasions when we’d been dating.  “Look around, babe.  How many teenagers do you see?”

But I didn’t even need to look because I’d noticed it before.  Had seen that there were very few kids within the Hellion yard.  In fact, there was a definite division in the age ranges of even the brothers that comprised the club.  There were mostly twenty and early thirty-something men with only maybe a handful of brothers in their fifties or sixties which was a far cry from what I remembered.

“We lost a helluva lot of members, those of the fucking old-skool variety when Trey took over and made the construction company the basis for the club’s green instead of the illegal shit,” he murmured as we walked towards the clubhouse.  “Those were the brothers who didn’t want to live what they called ‘the vanilla life’ and chose to migrate either to Spokane or Sheridan, taking their kids with them.  But to tell the truth, the kids were already fucking aging out, going off to college or to find their own place in the world.”  He opened the door to the long building that sat across from the construction warehouse but stopped in the doorway.  “Not many of them made the decision to become a recruit.”  He turned to look directly at me before advising, “give me a sec to check before we go in.”

Even though the turn in the conversation was confusing with all the alcohol I’d consumed, I immediately understood what Stan meant.  He was going to verify no other couples were in the main area getting their nasty on in full view of the door, something that had been a frequent occurrence way back when.  After giving me a nod, he held the door open wide and I went inside. 

And stopped as my eyes took in the whole of room.  It was so…nice.  A clean, warm and inviting space was what met my gaze, one that was roaming over the different tables and the long, long bar that was directly across from the door.  When I’d been a part of it all, the room had been a lot larger and unfinished, teaming with cast off furniture and a couple of boards braced over some metal drums that held bottles of cheap liquor.

But all that had changed.  Instead of a mish-mash of used and abused, it was more like a comfy neighborhood bar, the selection of alcohol displayed on lighted glass shelves behind the gleaming wood of the bar-top.  While the style of the tables and chairs were different, the color of the wood was all the same and even though I could see they weren’t new, all the stools and chairs looked well cared for, not an ounce of stuffing exposed.

“A lot different, yeah?”  Bishop’s voice was directly over my left shoulder and I couldn’t help turning to look at him, finding myself having to grab a chair back as I stumbled on my heels.  “C’mon, let me show you the kitchen!”

Grabbing my hand, he stepped toward the saloon doors on the right and pushed through them, using his far hand to hold them open.  “All top of the line, commercial appliances,” he announced and swept out a hand reminiscent of a game show hostess.  “Since we can get them at cost and we finally have some Honeys in the group who can actually cook, we decided to upgrade.”

“No more pool-tables and popcorn,” I muttered, trying not to burp as I took in all the shiny metal appliances and the six burner stove that had spider burners.  A kitchen I knew would’ve cost the club thousands.

I heard the jangle of keys, watching as Stan pick one off a rack which was attached to a metal disk that was emblazed with the number four.  “Nah, we got rid of the pool tables and used that area to create rooms in the back.”  He turned to look at me fully again and I had to blink to get my vision to see one of him instead of the two that wavered before me.  “Wanna see?”

He became more animated, talked more as we went back outside.  “We even have a laundry mat around the other side.  The single brothers can bring their threads in and have their shit washed and even ironed.”  He let out a soft chuckle.  “It’s a new service the recruits share.”

“The ra-recruits do the batherz, I mean,
brothers
clothes?”  Wait…what?  Back in the day, back when Stan had been a young recruit, I’d thought his time with the club was spent doing secret stuff, illegal things.  Nothing so mundane as, well,
laundry
!

Stan stopped walking and stared at me.  “What the fuck did you think I did back then, Dory?  Hold up banks?  Rob liquor stores?”

I cast my alcohol soaked mind back and tried to remember all the things I’d imagined Stan was doing when he’d leave me to go out to do ‘Hellion bidness’ as he used to call it.  “I dunno…”

He laughed outright, which I figured was due to the shocked look I could feel on my face as well as the slurring of my words.  “Christ!  Babe.  Most of the time I was doing all the scut work the other brothers didn’t want to do.  Like bailing a brother’s ass out of jail in the middle of the night or ensuring his bike wasn’t towed when he’d had to snag a lift because he was too drunk to ride.  Fuck, I even had to do the Saturday morning grocery run for the club as part of my duties.”

I held up a hand to stop him, feeling my eyebrows squeeze together as I tried to make sense of what he was saying.  No.  I couldn’t put the pieces together, not with all the tequila that was trying to be absorbed inside me.  “You mean to tell me you were going to the grocery sh-store for the Hellions every Sha-Saturday morning?  And freaking well hid it, c-claiming it was club bushinesh that I couldn’t know about?”