Motorcycle Man (50 page)

Hop continued, “She’s gone, won’t happen again but still, what I wanna say is, it won’t happen again. Way you are with Tack, way you took care ‘a Tabby’s business, the brothers got your back.”

I felt goose bumps rise on my skin. The good kind.

I’d earned their respect.

I knew this after brats and potato salad.

It was just good to have it confirmed.

“Does Tack talk about me?” I asked.

“No, though he’s my brother so even if he did I wouldn’t tell you,” Hop answered, taking the sting out of his words by grinning at me.

“Then I’ll tell you, I can’t do sweet.”

“Come again, gorgeous?”

“I can’t do sweet,” I informed him. “So don’t be sweet unless you want me to burst into tears or something.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, still grinning.

“Treat me like the badass I am,” I ordered and his grin became a smile.

“That, I know.”

My head tipped to the side at his words. “Pardon?”

“That, I know. Won’t say how I know but let’s just say I know you’re bossy.”

I knew how he knew. He was full of shit. Tack talked.

I rolled my eyes.

Then I rolled them back and bossed, “So are you going to treat me like the badass I am?”

“You got it, Cherry,” he said through his still smiling lips but he barely got it said when his smile cleared, his brows shot together, his head whipped around, his torso jerked up and he leaned into the window to peer out the blinds.

Suddenly, he was on his feet, his hand to his back pocket pulling out his phone.

“What –?” I started but he stretched his other hand out to me.

“Stay there.”

Oh hell.

Hop strode to the door but it flew open before he could get there and Naomi stormed through.

Oh hell!

“
Where is that motherfucker?
” she shrieked.

Hop had his phone to his ear and his body between me and Naomi.

“Calm down, woman, and step outside,” he growled at Naomi.

“
Fuck you!
” she screeched.

“Tack,” Hop said into his phone. “Please, God, brother, be close. I’m in the office at the garage. Your old bitch is here and your old lady is also here.”

Naomi leaned to the side and pointed at me around Hop’s long, lean, jeans and tee clad body, shouting, “He gets his ass here, I’ll deal with him.
Then
I’ll deal with you, you cunt!”

My body jerked back in my chair at that surprising, harsh and totally uncalled for insult but Naomi was gone. This was because Hop had his hand in her chest. He reached around her and opened the door then he shoved her through and closed it.

I stared at the closed door.

“
Oh no,” I whispered to it as I slowly stood, vaguely hearing Naomi’s shrieking outside. “
Hell
no.”

I stomped to the door, threw it open, stomped to the top landing and stared down where Hop and Naomi were at the bottom of the steps.

“What did you just call me?” I asked.

“Oh fuck,” Hop muttered.

“
Cunt!
” Naomi screeched, eyes slicing up to me.

The pressure in my head exploded and I stomped down the steps.

“Oh fuck,” Hop said, louder this time.

“That’s it, bitch, in your fancy-ass skirt with your fancy-ass shoes, you think you can take me?” Naomi asked.

She was rolling from foot to foot, hands up, fingers wiggling at me in a “bring it on” gesture even though Hop still had his hand in her chest and kept pushing off on it, shoving her back step by step as I advanced, my high heels clicking loud.

“You just called me the c-word,” I stated.

I heard the quick beat of running motorcycle boots and vaguely sensed mechanics and body shop guys coming out of the garage but I had my target in my sights.

“Yeah, I did. I called you a cunt, you cunt,” Naomi leered. “Tryin’ to take my kids from me. I got the papers,” she snapped.

“I got her, one ‘a you get Cherry,” Hop ordered and I felt a strong arm wrap around my chest from behind.

“Stand down, sweetheart.” I heard Brick say in my ear.

I stood still in his arm but didn’t take my eyes off Naomi. “You have a situation with Tack, you talk to Tack about it. You do not come to my office, shrieking, making a scene and calling me filthy names.”

She stopped and was leaning into Hop’s hand at her chest. “Oh yeah? I do, what’re you gonna do about it?”

What were we? In third grade?

Okay, I’d play.

“You don’t want to find out,” I warned.

“You can’t take me,” she declared derisively.

“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “But I’d sure as hell have fun with the licks I got in.”

She lifted her hands. “Yeah? Bring it on…
cunt.
”

“Stop calling me that!” I snapped.

“
Cunt!
” she screeched and that was it.

And what it was it wasn’t Arctic Tyra.

No.

Lady Dragon got poked with a stick and she… was…
pissed.

Therefore I tore free from Brick’s arm and ran the five feet to Naomi. Launching myself by Hop and clearly surprising all holy hell out of Naomi, I took a flying leap and tackled her to the tarmac. We landed with a bone-jarring thud, hers worse because she was under me and the breath went out of her which was good for me. I was able to semi-straddle her (my skirt impeded a full straddle) and get in a good solid smack right across her face before Hop yanked me off and pulled me, kicking and hissing, away. Lenny, the body shop guy, got in between a scrambling to her feet Naomi and me as did Brick and Boz.

“
You
bitch!
” she shrieked, barreling toward me but the boys closed ranks and she ran into them.

“I have more where that came from, Naomi!” I shouted my taunt, struggling against Hop’s hold.

“
Bitch!
” I heard.

“Fuckin’ stop, both ‘a you.”

This came from our sides. I stopped struggling against Hop’s hold and my head turned to see Dog standing there, his arms crossed on his chest but his eyes were aimed in Naomi’s direction.

“Take a second, woman, look around you. What do you see?” He waited a second, apparently letting her do that and apparently she did it because no sound came from her though I couldn’t see so I didn’t know. Then Dog went on, “You fucked Tack over means you fucked us all over. You do not get to come here and do this shit. Clue the fuck in, Naomi. You’re out. This can only go one way and you were around long enough to know which way it’s gonna go. Advice. Be smart, settle your ass down and wait to talk to Tack when he gets here. You don’t, it’s gonna go the way you know it’s gonna go.”

“This is none of your business,” I heard her hiss.

“You’re on Chaos, bitch.” I heard and my neck twisted to see Arlo standing a few feet behind Dog. “You know that shit ain’t right.”

Something must have given because Lenny, Brick and Boz stood down by moving away and I saw Naomi glaring at Arlo but although it seemed the situation had defused, Arlo wasn’t done.

“Tack’s call, ‘cause you’re the mother of his kids, he decides not to ban you, we’ll honor that. But you ever come on Chaos again and talk with that mouth to Cherry, you pushed out Rush and Tab or not, you’ll never come back. You get me?”

I was feeling love for Arlo and Naomi was saved from having to answer when the roar of Harleys could be heard. Three, to be exact (yes, that was how good I was getting at deciphering the noise of the pipes). And moments later we saw Tack, Hound and High roll in.

I relaxed against Hop but he didn’t let me go.

Tack and the boys stopped their bikes about ten feet away from Naomi and got off. Tack’s shades hit me and I saw them do a sweep as he walked wide to Naomi’s side.

Then he asked what appeared to be no on in particular, “There a reason why my woman’s knees are bleedin’?”

My knees were bleeding?

I looked down over Hop’s arm, stuck a foot out and put it back.

Yep, my knees were bleeding.

“That’d be because she tackled Naomi,” Dog offered then finished, “Justified.”

“Yeah,” Tack replied, his shades moving to Naomi, “heard that shit over the phone.”

I watched Naomi’s back go straight then I watched her spit at Tack, “Got the papers.”

“You don’t say?” Tack asked and I bit back my giggle but Hop didn’t. His chuckle wasn’t audible but I felt his body move with it.

“I say, asshole!” she snapped.

To this, Tack strangely responded, “Fifty thousand.”

Naomi’s body went still and, incidentally, so did mine.

“For each,” Tack finished.

What?

“A hundred,” she shot back and my body went solid as a rock.

Was she…?

Was
she…?

Was she selling the custody of her children?

“Fifty, be happy for it. You know I’ll win in court,” Tack told her.

“I don’t know it,” she fired back.

“You know it,” he stated firmly. “Even if you don’t, you and that sorry man ‘a yours can’t afford to fight it.”

“Maybe I feel like puttin’ you through the hassle anyway,” she suggested nastily.

“Your call,” Tack said on a shrug then continued, “But that offer has an expiration. Five seconds.”

Her face paled, she looked quickly toward the office then back at Tack. “Can we talk alone?”

Oh. My. God.

She’d come here for this.

“Four seconds,” Tack said.

Her body jerked.

“Seventy-five,” she haggled.

Ohmigod!

She’d come here to haggle for her kids!

“Three seconds.”

“Sixty!” she snapped.

“Two seconds, Naomi.”

“Fuck you, Tack!”

“Right, one second.”

“Fine!” she clipped.

Tack crossed his arms on his chest. “Good. That’s outta the way, these are the terms. I have the papers drawn up. They’re delivered to you. You got twenty-four hours to sign them. That’s delayed even a minute, deal’s dead. You think of getting any bright ideas or that moron of a man you got does and you think to reopen negotiations, deal’s dead. Tab, Rush, Tyra, me or anyone connected with Chaos sees you or hears from you, deal’s dead. Once signed, the kids see you when and if they want to. They don’t, they don’t see you. You don’t call them or me or Tyra or anyone that has anything to do with Chaos or Ride. You do not show your face here, at my house, at Tyra’s, at the kids’ school, ever. Unless the kids instigate contact, you’re gone. Agreed?”

“When do I get the money?” she asked instantly and Tack stared at her, his face twisted in a way I’d never seen.

Revulsion.

“Jesus,” he muttered, “I had your gold on my finger for years.”

“When do I get my money?” Naomi repeated, her tone sharper.

“Not even Rush?” Tack asked what I thought was strangely before I got it.

She wasn’t even going to fight for her son and she supposedly loved him.

That got to her and I could tell because her face was now twisted too. But it was not revulsion. It was hurt and bitterness.

Apparently she needed the money more than her son. Her next words laid testimony to it.

“When do I get my money, asshole?” Naomi shot back.

“When I get the signed papers,” Tack finally answered.

“Works for me,” she muttered, swung her glare to me then around the group at large before she stomped to her car.

Tack prowled to me.

Oh boy.

Hop let me go, Tack tagged my hand and then I was clicking across the tarmac to the Compound. Once there, Tack pulled me inside and around the bar where he stopped me, tore off his sunglasses, threw them on the bar and put his hands to my waist. Up I went and my ass was on the bar.

“Don’t move,” he growled and stalked off.

I didn’t move.

He came back with a huge-ass first aid kit the size of which I blocked out instantly because of what its existence said about its owners. He set it on the bar beside me, dug through it, found what he was looking for and ripped open the foil pack to an alcohol wipe. I then performed a miracle when, as gentle as he was, I didn’t gasp when the sting hit me when he started swiping one of my two scraped and bleeding knees.

Looking, I also had scraped and bleeding elbows.

Damn.

Well, that slap was worth it even if I hoped none of this left scars.

After Tack finished cleaning my first knee, he’d opened another alcohol wipe and started on the other one, I thought it safe to offer quietly, “We’ll sell my car and I’ll put my house on the market right away. Maybe we’ll get a quick sale. And I still have a little money set aside.”