Dead Men Motorcycle Club (16 page)

We arrived outside our destination at a quarter past seven in the evening. It was a small restaurant that had a very old reputation.
Trilio's
had been an institution ever since it was opened in the 20s. Back then it was a destination spot for movie stars that wanted to get far out from their homes, where nobody would recognize them. Since then, the rich and famous had moved onto locations where they
would
be recognized, but Trilio's continued their traditions of the past.

Cash parked the car and we each got out. There were only a few other cars there. Even on a Friday night, a place like this was never full to capacity. Low overhead and a good reputation can keep a classy restaurant like that running well past the point when others would have had to close up shop. The notoriously high price of a meal at
Trilio's
didn't hurt for keeping them in business either. Things had been so good at the shop lately that I knew we could afford this kind of extravagance.

Our evening was, in a word, magical. Right from the start, we got a five-star treatment. If our waiter noticed anything odd about our appearances, he kept it to himself. Tonight we were just another couple looking for a chance to escape our lives. Somehow we managed to make it through the evening without talking about work. Cash might be the owner of Peasant Motors on paper, but he never acted like my boss and that was definitely for the best. I'd spent most of my life with my boss being my dad. Truth be told, I didn't really understand how people acted around bosses at work who they weren't personally connected to.

Cash ordered a steak and I got some kind of pasta. We shared a bottle of wine and told stories. I'd missed this so much. When we first got together, we told each other about where we'd come from and what had made us the people we were. Somehow, in just months, we'd reached the point of telling each other how our days went and sharing in-jokes. That has its place, but I couldn't help but feel the excitement of new discoveries was draining from our relationship. Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was seeing a new side to Cash. I'd grown accustomed to the rough exterior and tough facade he had to use as the President of the Dead Men Motorcycle Club. Likewise, I'd grown accustomed to the charming and warm man who slipped into bed next to me every night. I had formed a picture in my mind of this man with two sides to his personality, but now I was finding a third - the gentleman. I knew it was just a cameo appearance, though. This upstanding figure - the man who cleaned up so well and looked like he belonged in a place like
Trilio's
had no place in the world of the Dead Men or even in San Viero. It was like the car that had brought us here. Reginald
Donnovan was no part of that town and his trappings were as out of place as a July blizzard.

Thinking about the car made it click in my mind all at once. One moment Cash was telling me about a guy named Adam he'd gone to high school with and I cut him off right in the middle of his sentence.

"We need to stop Donnovan," I said suddenly, my eyes firmly focused on his.

"Er
... what?" he said. Cash was already well aware of the trouble that
Donnovan
represented. He knew why Alexander had been present and the threat they both represented to the club. Still, we'd been taking a "wait and see" attitude towards the whole thing. I knew it was time to finally make a move.

"We can't let him take over San Viero," I told him. "He'll push the club out and probably Peasant right along with it. I'm not giving up on this place."

Cash folded his hands beneath his chin and looked at me seriously. I'd seen that expression on his face before when he was getting reports about various unsavory activities from the other Dead Men. He was being the leader - the man I'd fallen in love with.

"Alright," he said, "I agree with you. It sounds like you've got a plan though."

I nodded. I was making it up as I went along, but I was no stranger to that kind of planning. "It's like this," I said. "Donnovan
needs the Dead Men to force Taylor out so he can buy up the town. But what if he couldn't buy up the town?"

"Sounds good," Cash said, "But I don't think the Dead Men are exactly in a position to do the buying. Even if we sold everything, we'd never afford it. So who's going to do the buying?"

"Alexander," I said.

"What?" Cash said. I had expected more expletives attached to his confusion, but instead got pure unadulterated wonder.

"Alexander has his own money," I told him. "He works for his father, but his cash flow is already secure. He can afford what we're talking about."

"Well sure he can," Cash said, "but why would he turn against his own father like that? And even if we did get him to do it somehow, that's hardly a guarantee he'd be any better."

"I think we can drive a wedge between them," I explained. "The old
Donnovan
wanted to use his son to break the Dead Men but he failed. We're going to turn it back against him and split their family. When all this is over, the town is going to be the hands of someone who knows the value of the club. We're going to make Alexander into a Dead Man."

"You know how crazy this sounds, right?" Cash said. "That pompous little jerk will never be a Dead Man. He doesn't have a bone for it in his whole body."

"I know, I know," I said. "We don't need to turn him into a biker though. We just need to convince him that he's one of us - to convince him that the club comes first."

Cash got a wide grin on his face. He was starting to come around to the idea. It seemed so simple. I sat there looking at my tough biker boyfriend all freshened up and wearing his costume of elegance and riches - why couldn't we do the reverse? If Alexander
Donnovan could be turned from his father, we'd never have to worry for the club or for San Viero again.

"How do we do this?" he asked. I was glad that Cash was letting me take the lead on this. His faith in my intelligence was one of the things that had attracted me to him most in the first place. Ever since I met him in the garage on my first day at work, Cash had believed
in my abilities as a mechanic. When someone would question young, pretty mechanic as to her talent, Cash was always first in line to defend me.

"We're going to keep it small," I told him. "At the start, it's just going to you and me and one other."

"Who?"

"Tubbs," I told him. "He knows what Alexander's all about and he knows what's at stake. The rest of the club will find out when it's time, but for now this is our secret. There's no telling who old
Donnovan has eyes on, so we can't afford to spread this around."

Cash nodded and took a sip of his wine. I could tell he was already more invested in my plan than he had been in our romantic dinner. The show we'd been putting on was fun, but it was just a show. Now that it was time to get to work, he was as much in his element as I was. A life of leisure is great for an evening, but it's not the way we wanted to live our lives.

"What we need to do," I said, "is to bring Alexander along on some kind of job. It's got to be something with an edge - something with a bit of danger. It will just be the four of us."

"I think I've got an idea for that," he said, pushing his plate aside. His unfinished meal was discarded as easily as the pretense that we were just another couple on a romantic date. "There's a club over in Waverly - the Hot 10. The owner is a guy who used to live in San Viero - Preston Michaels. The club pushed him out because he was trying to build his big eyesore of a dance club just outside of town. We're going to pay Preston Michaels a visit. We'll remind him that the Dead Men don't forget."

"That's perfect!" I exclaimed. "With a place like that, we can convince Alexander that we need him to get us in under the radar. We'll give him a taste of the life and then show him what else he's been missing." I lifted my wine glass and Cash did the same. We sealed our new plan with the high pitched sound of fine crystal meeting together.

"Let's talk to Tubbs about it in the morning," I said. Cash nodded. "For now, I believe I saw a desert cart making the rounds.

The rest of our meal carried a level of excited energy that all the fancy cars and expensive meals in the world couldn't top. The rut we'd been worn into was disappearing by the minute. The energy behind Cash's eyes was that same powerful force that had attracted
me to him in the first place. It wasn't a disguise of a gentleman or even the warm tenderness of a loving boyfriend. This was the leader breaking free. For a month he'd been taking orders from Reginald
Donnovan
- even from his son. Now, with my help, we'd find a way to break him free. There was life in this Dead Man yet - I knew it.

Cash let me take the wheel on the way home, just as he'd said. In all the excitement, I'd forgotten we were driving
Donnovan's
car around that night. The rush of planning against him had me gripping the wheel hard and taking chances with the car that I never would have under ordinary circumstances. If everything went according to our new plan, the owner of this car would probably hate the both of us soon enough. We might as well get what we could out of his patronage for as long as it
lasted.

We flew along the highway. It was deserted this far out and I let the car really go. Cash had never really seen me drive before - not like this. He might have spent his teenage years riding motorcycles and learning to be a badass, but I spent mine tuning cars and making them sing. I was alive again behind the wheel. Cash held on tight beside me, unable to take his eyes off me. His smile was all the reassurance I needed that he loved what he was seeing.

We arrived home with the car more or less in one piece. I grinned at the thought of bringing it into the shop in the morning to check it over once again. Instead of pointless busywork, suddenly it would be like looking at a record of my achievements. On the way into the apartment, I took Cash's hand and felt his warm, powerful grip. Together, the two of us could do anything. It was time to finally show someone just what it meant to stand in our way.

When we got inside, Cash and I tore into each other like a couple of teenagers on prom night. There was no pretense and no hesitation between us. The fire that had been dimming in our relationship had been rekindled bigger and brighter than ever before. The thought of being out from beneath the thumb of Reginald
Donnovan
and Mayor Taylor both was exhilarating. I hadn't realized just how much we'd been suffering because of the deal that Cash had struck. It might have been profitable, but he'd been selling the soul of San Viero. Now we had a chance to make things right.

I grabbed the tie that was still loosely hanging around Cash's neck and pulled him towards the bedroom. At the beginning of our date, I was thrilled to see him all dressed up. Now it just seemed like another costume and I couldn't wait to see my man as he really was. I might not have been dressed too far out of the ordinary, but Cash wasn't shy about his desire
to see me all the same. By the time we reached the bed, my dress was hanging around my waist. I pushed away from him just long enough to pull it off and toss it across the room. He took a moment to smile and stare at me, dressed only in my bra and panties. He had this way of looking at me that I couldn't resist even if I wanted to. When his eyes scanned across my bare skin, I wanted nothing more than to meet his every desire and grant his every wish.

He stepped towards me, dropping his jacket and tie as he went. His hands moved quickly, practically tearing the clothes from his own body. I felt like I was watching him transform before my eyes. One moment he was an upstanding gentleman. His power arms and broad chest emerged and tossed aside that illusion, giving me a look at his true self. The trail of formal clothing he left behind was suddenly of no interest to me. His thick forearms, tattooed with designs that spoke of power and the certainty of fate filled my mind. There could have been a parade marching down the street and I would never know it. For me, there was only Cash. My attention couldn't be anywhere else if I'd tried.

I stood before him with my hands at my sides. I felt almost afraid to reach out for him. As soon as I touched him, this vision of masculinity would be something else entirely. Until that moment, my anticipation and desire would build exponentially. He was only inches away from me, slowly unbuttoning his pants. The frantic pace with which he'd been undressing was replaced with something more deliberate and more meaningful. His eyes locked with mine. Without a word, we communicated to each other. The yearning that was building within me was so strong that I felt barely able to hold myself back. His pants
his the
floor in a loose tumble, and he stepped free of them. Without the burden of his clothing, Cash was himself once again. My eyes swept down across his body, taking in the sight of his firm muscles and the equally firm thrust of his manhood, hanging between his legs, seemingly defying me to look anywhere else.

Cash reached out his hands and placed them against my shoulders, pulling me towards him. My eyes closed reflexively and our lips met in a soft, warm embrace that reminded me of the first time. When he kissed me, I could feel the desire trembling from his lips with every moment. For us, the touch of each other's bodies was more than just good fun - it was the completion of the bond that we shared in every aspect of our lives. For me, the day wasn't complete without him. Living without his touch - without his attention - would be like living without the sun. The tender way that he kissed me fed me the energy I needed to persevere through any situation. I could only hope that he felt the same way.

His hands held me tight against him, though he didn't need to use his full strength to accomplish such a feat. There was nowhere in the world that I would rather be than pressed meaningfully against his broad chest, feeling the heat that emanated from him and the beat of his heart mingling with my own. I slipped my hands beneath his arms and let my fingertips dance across his back. Here and there I felt a scar or an imperfection along his skin. Every bump and every line was a story - an illustration of the life he lived and the lengths he was willing to go to in order to fight for what he believed in. I knew that he thought I was worth fighting for, but it was nice to be reminded. With Cash I would never have to doubt his sincerity or his integrity. The only shadow I was forced to live in was his devotion to the Dead Men. Some people might be shocked by the level of integrity that Cash showed for his club, and amazement at my willingness to stand by my man when his first priority would always be to his Dead Men brothers. I understand now that his devotion to the club was transferable and that when it came to standing tall for me, I never needed to fear that he would give less than everything he could.