Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (23 page)

Mica closed the door and took a deep breath, leaning her forehead against the cool wood of the door for a moment. Daniel watched her shake it off and turn to them. “Are we ready, folks?”

Jess finished packing up her computer and files; the plan was that she wouldn’t work here alone either, since the one photo had been taken right outside the office. Zipping up her jacket, she turned and nodded at Mason, indicating she was ready when he was.

33 -
            
Confessional

Mason thought again that it was all about control. Control your environment, and you controlled your reactions. Control the encounter, and you controlled the outcome. Choosing Jackson’s for the meet up with Dalton was the logical choice, as far as he was concerned. It put everything smack into his comfort zone, where he could be so fucking controlled no one would believe it.

He had barely kept it together at the office, and only the thought of adding to her anguish allowed him to remain calm and composed while looking at those pictures of Mica…the pictures of Mica and Daniel, those goddamn pictures…that fucking picture of him. He snarled silently, not seeing the customer, who backed away carefully cradling his drink. He saw in his mind the wall with the larger-than-life picture of him slinking out of Mica’s house, as if he was ashamed of their lovemaking.

Mason looked over at the booth where the three sat waiting. They weren’t talking, and he was shaking his head over the space carved out between each of them. You could almost drive a damn truck through without hitting anybody. He’d put his cut back on when they got to the bar, thinking it would be good for the club members and prospects to see him with his colors arrogantly on display here.

His lips pulled back in a poor impression of a smile, thinking of the trip back to the bar. When Jess had called, he had thrown the bar keys to Slate, his lieutenant. He ran out back to his bike, knowing Slate would take care of the business. Racing over to the office on the slippery streets, his mind was going a thousand miles an hour, wondering what had happened. He knew Daniel was headed over to ask Mica out, and he couldn’t imagine what had gone so wrong that Jess felt he was needed to pick up the pieces. Then he walked into that clusterfuck with the pictures, and now he was thinking it was understandable he would be somewhat possessive.

So when it came time to head back to the bar, there had been a slight misunderstanding about how Mica would get there. He had handed her the leather jacket and helmet she normally used, just as Daniel opened the rear door on his car for her. Mason had very nearly growled at him and slapped the door closed. “Put on your lid, babe,” he said to Mica in a husky voice. He did not yet trust Daniel to keep her safe.

She’d laid her hand on Daniel’s arm, giving him a quick shake of her head as she twisted her hair up and put on the helmet. “We’ll see you there in a minute,” she said softly, looking over at Jess as she slipped on the jacket, zipping up the overlapping panels in the front.

Reaching to flip the passenger pegs down, Mason straddled his bike. He stood, picking up the strain of balance with his legs, and slid the kickstand
up. He held his hand out to Mica as they had done a hundred times before, supporting and steadying as she swung her leg over the back of the bike. She took her time, settling down on the small padded seat on top of the rear fender, with her feet on the pegs. With a turn of the key and a kick, the panhead engine roared to life, vibrating and rumbling loudly beneath them as Mason twisted the throttle with quick, short movements of his hand and wrist.

He watched Daniel’s car pull out of the garage, followed closely by Jess’. Mason felt himself center and calm as Mica’s thighs snugged up to his ass and her arms went around his waist, holding him loosely. Taking a deep breath, he had called over his shoulder, “Ready, babe?” and felt her helmet nod against his back as her arms tightened a little.

Pulling out of the garage carefully, Mason was watching for any cars that were too close or too attentive. Once out on the street, he opened the throttle up, quickly passing Jess and Daniel’s cars, moving into oncoming traffic to do so. His feet and hands worked in synchronization to quickly move up through the gears and catch more speed. He felt more than heard Mica laughing behind him over the noise of the pipes, feeling the shaking of her body and arms. He cocked his head over to see her face, grinning at her wide smile.

Reaching down, he snagged her joined hands and tugged forward, pulling her tighter against his back before letting her go. He slid his warm, gloved hand across both of hers, covering her hands and fingers with his broad hand for warmth. He knew how much she liked riding his bike, and the big, black and white Harley Road King Classic was a treat, whether you rode as driver or pillion behind.

Opening the throttle wider, he grinned again as he felt the bike pushing him backwards, the rear wheel digging in aggressively and squatting the bike as it hustled along. Their ride came to an end sooner than he wanted; they were back at the bar within a few minutes, and he slowed to pull into the employee parking lot behind the bar. He glided to a stop, and then walked the bike backwards. Settling into his parking space near the kitchen door, he killed the engine when they were in line with his brothers’ bikes.

Lowering the kickstand, he’d carefully helped Mica off before he leaned the bike over and swung his leg off. Without a word, she passed him back the jacket and helmet like she always did, and he stowed them in the saddlebag, where they always waited for her. Looking around the parking lot, he gazed with pride at the class of bikes parked there, and the care put into each of them. The quality and upkeep of their scooters said a lot about a club. Rebels was ran clean; they had no working girls and no drugs, but everyone could still afford to own a bike they could be happy with.

Back in his head, behind the bar, Mason realized he had been wiping the same place for a few minutes while he thought about their morning. He laughed ruefully at himself and shook his head. He had been enormously relieved that Mica had ridden with him, as if nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened between them. It felt like he could breathe again and like maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything with her. At least, he hoped he was reading things right.

The door to the bar dinged open, and Mason saw a tall, thin dude walk in wearing a dressy leather duster, his head swiveling until he saw Mica and Jess. Making a beeline over to their booth, he seemed surprised to find a third person there, and quickly turned back to the door. Mason had already gestured to Slate and a couple of other members, Tug and Bear, and they were standing at the outside entry, blocking the way with a wall of muscled black leather. Strolling out from behind the bar, the edges of Mason’s mouth curled up when he saw frustration on Daniel’s face. The girls had him blocked in, so he was helpless right now and could do nothing to influence the outcome of the confrontation. That suited Mason fine as he abruptly slung an arm around the shoulders of the dressy dude.

“Mr. Dalton, I suspect. I’m Davis Mason, owner of Jackson’s. I think you know Mica and Jess, and that constipated-lookin’ fella is Daniel Rupert.” He leaned down to get a good look at Dalton’s face. “Now that we’re all introduced, we have a few questions we’d like to ask you. Let’s go to the private room back here; it will be…quieter and more secluded for our discussion.”

Tugging Dalton towards the door, Mason laughed at the attempt the man made to dig in his heels. It was an action about as effective as hiding under a blanket during a tsunami. Mason neatly handled his resistance, leading the way into the small room. They’d already prepared for the meeting, pushing the tables up against the walls so there was only a single chair in the middle of the room.

Mason let their little group filter in before closing the door, nodding across the bar at Slate and his brothers before the lock snicked into place. “Have a seat, Mr. Dalton.” He turned and pushed Dalton hard, shoving him towards the chair, and away from Jess and Mica. His voice changed, becoming dangerous and rough. “Sit the fuck down, you shit-for-brains.”

“Mica, what is going on?” Dalton asked as he recovered from stumbling. He quickly moved to the chair and carefully sat down, gripping the seat with both hands.

Mason roared, “You don’t fucking talk to her, you sackless prick. You talk to me, and only me. You will answer when spoken to,” he grabbed a fistful of Dalton’s shirt and pulled him close, “and you will fucking answer promptly and honestly, but you do not fucking talk to her.” He paused. “Ahh, goddammit,” Mason said as he smelled piss, knowing what he’d see if he looked at this guy’s crotch. This wasn’t part of the plan; she was gonna be pissed at him. Turning Dalton loose, Mason shoved him backwards into the chair again. “He just…aww fuck. Sit the fuck down. Listen close. Answer fast. Be fucking truthful. Leave here in one fucking piece…” he bared his teeth in a grim smile down at Dalton, “…maybe a little damp, but in one fucking piece.”

Mica’s voice sounded in the room, the tone flat and calm. She was doing what they had discussed, leaving Dalton no room for denials. “Gentry, I was already in the screen-share this afternoon. I saw everything. I saw the pictures.” She paused to take a deep breath and stepped up beside Mason, putting her hand on his forearm, curling her fingers around the hard, tattooed, and muscled expanse of skin. “Tell me about the pictures, Gentry.” Her fingertips stroked gently up and down Mason’s arm, pulling anger from him with every movement.

“Umm. Mica, hey, umm…a client gave me a memory stick with pictures on it that he wanted for a project. Those pictures were on the USB. I was as surprised as you must have been. I called the client and told him I didn’t need his business. Yeah. I’m sorry you saw them. It must have been scary,” Dalton stuttered.

“I call bullshit, Mason,” Jess said roughly, pushing up beside Mica. “We saw his screen. He was flipping through the pictures of our girly like they were soft-core porn and he was horny.”

His anger rising again, Mason felt Mica’s fingers tighten around his arm convulsively, holding him in place, saying flatly, “Gentry, tell me about the pictures.”

Dalton’s eyes jerked from one person to the next, looking for any out he could find. He wasn’t restrained to the chair, except by his fingers holding tightly onto the seat like it was a lifeline. He looked between Daniel and Mason again, then over to Jess, and finally back to Mica. They could all see his thoughts racing across his face, Mica holding her breath until he volunteered the information they needed.

“A guy came in and said he was a friend of a client of yours—Peters, owns a bar out in Waukegan. He knew I did work for you. He had the pictures on a USB, like I said, but he wanted me to email them to Peters and a blind account. That’s it, Mica. The truth, it’s all I know. I didn’t know what it was until after I had already agreed. Once I had, he was standing there breathing over me until I emailed the pictures.”

Mica looked at Gentry. “So Peters came in and wanted you to email the pictures? Who did you email them to, Gentry? Do you still have the USB? I could get some information off the digital files if you do.” Chewing on the side of her thumb, she thought hard. “Did you copy them to a local hard drive, maybe?”

He shook his head at her. “No, he didn’t want me to copy them. I emailed them from the folder on the memory stick, and then removed it and handed it back over. But it wasn’t Peters, he said he was a friend of Peters, who I guess is your client.”

Racking her brain, she responded absently, “Yes, Peters is a new client.” Still thinking, speaking distractedly, “Do you still have the files in your sent email folder? I could get them from there, or your trash if you deleted the email.” Changing tracks slightly, she asked, “If it wasn’t Peters, who was it? Do you know his name?”

All eyes on him, Gentry nodded eagerly, looking sideways at Mason and Daniel. “Yeah, yeah. His name is Ray Nelms, said he knows Peters from Texas.”

Everyone quickly looked at Mica as she made a choking noise. She was reaching a hand out behind her to the wall, and looked like she had taken a hard punch to her chest that knocked the air out of her. “Nelms. Are you sure that was his name?” she asked breathlessly. “Are you absolutely sure, Gentry?”

He nodded more slowly now, his eyes darting towards Mason, not sure what had happened, but seriously afraid again, since his answer had this effect on Mica. “Yeah, Ray Nelms. I’m sure.”

Daniel grabbed Mica as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell bonelessly towards the floor.

34 -
            
Milwaukee

Samuel pulled the car into the curving drive in front of the Hyatt Regency in downtown Milwaukee. He put the car into park and used the rearview mirror to exchange glances with Daniel in the backseat.

“She’s still sleeping, Samuel, can you check out our reservations and deal with the bags…give me a minute?” Daniel looked down at Mica; she was sprawled across the seat next to him, her head pillowed on his thighs and her hair draped across his hips and legs. “I don’t want to wake her too fast.”

“Yes, Mr. Rupert,” Samuel said as he exited the car, tapping the button to open the trunk so the valets could remove the luggage from inside it.

“Hey, Mica, sweetheart, time to wake up. We’re here.” He stroked her hair back from her face, troubled by how pale she still was. “Come on, I know you don’t want me to carry you inside.” Watching her stir, he stifled a groan when her head and face pressed into his lap as she scrubbed her face against the fabric of his jeans as she was waking. “Um. Oh. Don’t do that, Mica.” He lifted her head to a less compromising position and saw her eyes flutter open, looking up at him. “Hey there, beautiful,” he said with a smile, “there you are.”