Reinventing Mel: A Hellion MC Novel (16 page)

Holding my head high, I went back to my desk determined not to let them know how rattled I was.

*.*.*.*.*

Trey slammed the large bottle of Midol onto the bar of the clubhouse gaining the full attention of his council.  "I want to fucking know who gifted Lucille with this and why!"  His glare moved from man to man sitting on the other side of the bar from where he stood.  Brand and Huff looked up and down the line of men.

"According to Dallas, this shit don't fly with women!  That we're damn-well lucky Lucille didn't quit on the spot, which we all know would be a motherfucking shame.  Said it has to do with fucking respect or some such.  Who did it?"  With no other brothers in the vast room and no music playing, Trey's voice was loud and it echoed.  After calling Dallas for advice, he'd decided to take their meeting to the clubhouse so as not to be overheard.

"Well, she hasn't been herself lately…" Dare began lamely, shooting his eyes to the other men but carefully avoided looking at his Pres.

"And Bishop said he thought it was pro'lly because she was on the rag…" Silo picked up the explanation but his deep voice lacked his normal confidence.

"Only because you pussies were complaining that she was avoiding talking to you and seemed to be in a bad mood," Bishop countered with a shrug.  "It was only a fuckin' thought, dig?  Not a goddamn statement of fact."

Trey heard Brand sigh deeply and saw the other man was shaking his head.  "You three know nothing of women."

"I've been with Carly a long damn time and even I know not to pull that shit," Huff added.  "God, what a bunch of dumb fucks."

"Don't include me with them," Bishop exclaimed, using his thumb to point to Silo and Dare.  "I never told tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee…"

"All I said was that there's fuckin' pills girls can take to make their damn time of the month better."  Dare's face held a deeper bronze as he mumbled.  "Didn't know he'd actually buy and then fuckin' give them to her."

All eyes went to Silo who was wearing a look of nervousness.  He let his eyes roam around his brothers as he pulled at his soul patch, the little triangle of hair he'd grown beneath his lower lip.  He coughed and then cleared his throat.  "I, ah.  I didn't know it would fuckin' piss her off.  Just wanted our princess back.  You know, like the way she fuckin' used to be."

There were groans and eye-rolls at the large bald man's justification.

"Is that what you fuckin' borrowed money for?  I mean I thought it was weird since Dare had shared the winnings and all…" Bishop started with a sputter.

"Hey, I didn't share, motherfucker.  I already fuckin' owed him…" Dare refuted.

"Winnings?" Brand ground out, his voice's volume lifting him high and above the others even though it was deep enough to almost shake the bar.

Bishop eyed the group before confessing.  "We had this little side bet going on."

"You know, 'bout who'd get underneath her skirts first," Dare added but his voice lacked its usual strength and its laughter.

"At the fuckin' beginning it was about us," Silo continued, his eyes on his hands.  "Like who would get to Lucille first.  Then, once we knew she was into Hardwood, it was more about when he would fuckin' hit it with her.  Dare won."

Trey eyed his men with a look of astonishment.  "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Is this what these three fuckin' shits do all day while we're working our asses off?" Huff yelled.

Trey's eyes met Silo's and held.  "I don't give a fuck about the reasoning behind what you fucking left for Lucille.  But you
will
be fucking apologizing to her and doing it AS-fucking-AP, you get me?"

Silo nodded and swallowed.

"And this shit better not ever happen again when it comes to our receptionist," Brand added sternly.  "Actually, to any of the women.  It not only speaks of your lack of knowledge but of your lack of esteem for the sweeter gender."

"Brand's playing nice-nice.  You do that shit again, brothers, and I'll kick your motherfucking asses," Huff promised with a decisive head nod as he crossed his arms across his chest.  "Real, true and one at a fuckin' time if I gotta."

"I'll handle it."  Silo's blush, something that rarely made an appearance, was deep.

"Good.  Now, we have an issue going on in Wyoming.  Seems Hart is 180 days behind in paying for HC services and the fucker's avoiding my calls.  I need a crew of four to make him a personal visit.  Silo, you're leading this one.  Pick another brother and two recruits to take with you but make sure Mel is one." 

Trey knew it was a suitable punishment since Sheridan, Wyoming was seven hours away.  And while they all rode as much as time would allow, Silo's balls and ass would be hurting from so much time on his bike.  While the other brothers could ride for hours and hours, with the responsibilities of both HC and the club most of the council were only good for about four hours before their bodies complained.

Silo nodded as he seemed to think over his choices.  "Dice and Transport.  You gonna clear it with Mel's crew leader?"

"I will," Brand advised.

"And I'll swing it with Transport's guy."  Huff seemed glad the conversation had moved on.  "But you need to assign someone to take on the post office duties."

"Will do."  Trey's hand slapped the bar to signal the end of their little confab.  "You!" he yelled, pointing a finger at Silo.  "Getcha ass in gear and take care of that other shit as soon as you hit the fucking door, yeah?"

"Yeah, Trey."  Silo sighed deeply shooting an accusatory look at Dare who held his hands up in the surrender position.

Chapter Sixteen

Mel's ass, legs and lower back were one mass of ache that even the ibuprophen he'd taken when they'd stopped at a convenience store hadn't helped.  By his estimation, they'd been riding for three hours and in his mind it was two hours longer than his body was prepared for.

His first run.

When he'd received the call from Silo detailing he was needed and would be riding to Wyoming with him, Mel had been excited even though there had been a lot to prep.  First was Dare rescheduling his motorcycle test, which he'd aced.

Then had been arranging care for Julie and making sure Derek knew he'd be at the compound for the next three nights.  Something he'd thought would Der would argue but was pleasantly surprised when the kid just offered up an, "okay, Mel.  See you when you get back."

Bishop was the one who'd advised him he needed to purchase two guns and a knife.  "At the fuckin' minimum, dig?  Be fuckin' warned though that shit don't come cheap.  And until your CC comes through, you'd have to fuckin' have them on the outside of your clothes in plain sight.  Can't fuckin' have that."

"CC?"

"Your permit to carry a concealed weapon.  We're going to the Sheriff's office to start that shit 'cause if fuckin' takes sixty days for it to come through.  In the meantime, here's a Push Dirk with a boot holder and a SOG Seal Knife 2000 for your belt.  See the handle on the dirk?  It’s a great toy to have when fuckin' trouble gets up close and personal.  The Seal can be used for just about anything, but makes a great fuckin' deterrent for assholes that think they want to fuck with you for shits and giggles, dig?" Bishop looked down at the knives he'd placed on the desk before looking across his desk at Mel.

"One other thing.  I'm the one who's been fuckin' working with Derek on that boarding school shit.  Actually, have been spending time with your lil' bro' when he's around.  Smart little fucker.  Too goddamn smart for this place."

Since Der had already admitted he'd been talking with the biker, Mel wasn't surprised by what Bishop revealed.

"Don't want to fuckin' overstep my bounds or nothing but I filled out the paperwork with him."  Bishop reached into a drawer and pulled out a sheath of papers.  "All you gotta do is sign and I'll fax 'em over to the fuckin' school.  According to the chick in the admissions office, they'll have an fuckin' answer regarding his scholarship and placement in a week, maybe two."

As Mel signed in the places indicated, he couldn't help his feeling of defeat.  He'd been so hopeful about their new lives and it hurt to know that Der needed to leave the family in order to be happy.  "If he's accepted, when would he be going?"

"Immedioso, my friend.  Once that happens, I'll fork over the green for his flight, et cetera and you can pay me back," Bishop said with a grin.  "You really okay with this, brother?"

"Yeah.  Kind of.  If it makes Derek happy and gets him back to the kid I used to know," Mel admitted ruefully.  "Thanks for your help with this."

"It's what we do, Hardwood.  Hellions take care of their own.  Better get fuckin' used to it."  Bishop's face had been serious, as serious as his words that lifted Mel's spirits a bit.

Mel saw Dice reach a hand over his head in his place in front of him bringing Mel out of his memories.  The two recruits were riding directly behind the other two members taking their cues on formation and how to tuck themselves from the more experienced men in order not to create too much wind drag as they rode.

The other man's hand made a motion that, to Mel, meant 'talk', the fingers pressed together and touching his thumb.  What could the gesture mean?  Mel glanced at Transport who looked just as confused as Mel felt.

Soon, though, Dice sped up and began racing his ride in and out of cars with Silo doing the same only laughing wildly as his bike followed.  In order to keep up, Mel accelerated and began the same maneuvers noticing his Harley seemed to love the weaving motion as it gripped the road.  He heard the roar of Transport's motorcycle behind and to the right of him.  He couldn't help smiling in delight at how good the change in tempo felt.

He put two and two together and realized the hand motion had meant 'chicken' not 'talk'.  Something he'd heard other brothers talk about at the clubhouse.

But as much fun as it was, the drivers of the cars that the bikes were moving through didn't seem to care much for their antics.  Mel caught more than a few glares, horn-honks and even a couple of middle finger salutes.  After getting through the pack, with nothing but open road ahead of them, the men settled back down to their cruising speed of eighty-five.  It wasn't long and his ass started complaining again.

After a while, he saw Silo's hand point at the sign that announced Highway 89 and followed behind the two other men as they changed lanes.  Another hand wave was done for exit 333 in Livingston and Mel couldn't help but wonder where they were going.  By his calculations they were only halfway to Sheridan.   But he knew, in fact had been warned by Dare, that a recruit's job was not to reason, ask why or to question whatever order or directive he'd been given.  He was to just fucking
do
and do it to the best of his ability.  

Pulling in next to Dice's ride in the Super 8 parking lot, he could only assume they were stopping for the night.  He watched Silo swing one of his long legs over his bike and make his way to the office.  Dice turned to Mel with a huge shit-eating grin.  "Your ass on fire yet?"

Mel laughed ruefully in return.  "Yeah and has been."

"Tomorrow it'll be fuckin' worse. Fuckin' stiff as shit.  Just a head's up, ya know?"

"Fuck," he heard Transport breath from his right.  "Worse?  I don't think it can get any fucking worse."

Both Dice and Mel chuckled at the tall man's resigned tone.

"Got us two fuckin' rooms.  Transport's with me.  Mel's stuck with Dice," Silo called walking back to where the bikes waited.  "A warning, bro.  The fucker snores."

"I do fuckin' not!" Dice said hotly.

Silo ignored the other man except to pass him the keycard. "We're the last two rooms at the end.  We'll meet up again in an hour to go grub up."

By the time dinner was over and Dice had led their group to a local strip club, Mel was feeling more like himself.  The numbness in his feet had left but if he was still long enough, his body still fell the vibrations of his bike and the road.  After ordering, Transport asked, "Why are we sitting here in the corner?"

Mel saw Silo and Dice exchange a look.  "Yours is not to fuckin' question, meat.  But since this is something you both need to learn, I'll give you the 4-1-1," Silo growled.  "This ain't our fuckin' town.  Hellions don't have a presence here and the locals don't seem to care much for our kind if the goddamn manager asking us to remove our cuts means anything."

"With that in mind, we fuckin' need to keep an eye on what's doing and who's doing it."  Dice picked up the thread when Silo had stopped talking.  "Learn it.  When in an unknown place, pick the furthest back corner so you can't be fuckin' surprised from behind."

Mel's stomach tightened as his gaze took in the room, catching a couple of frowns from the other patrons.  Everyone in the place had seen them come in with their colors so there was no way they could've missed the fact that they had bikers in their midst.  A fact most of them seemed to have a problem with.  "Is there going to be trouble?"  He kept his words to a mumble only loud enough for the other men to hear.

"Hope not," Silo said, taking a deep drink of his beer and then letting his own eyes roam over the room.  "But shit happens."

"We're not here to fuckin' cause trouble, right?  But we ain't gonna pussy out if it fuckin' goes down.  Remember to be a Hellion is to know power and to be in control of whatever situation you fuckin' find yourself in,"  Dice advised, his eyes never leaving off its scan of the room.

Mel and Transport glanced at each other and then nodded. 
This is crazy
, Mel thought. 
They hate us because we ride?

Their group had ordered another round when two large men stepped up to their table.  And large in their case meant fat, their jeans held up by belts pushed in and underneath their rotund bellies. 

"You boys ain't wanted here," the older of the two advised while his friend nodded.

"Reason?"  Dice shot back, nonchalantly looping an arm over the back of the booth.

"Saw your fuckin' colors.  And the Czars never gave permission to have Hellions here."

"Czars?"  Silo threw out his one word question as he crossed his arms on his chest.

"Black Czars.  Livingston is Czar acreage and your unexpected visit ain't fuckin' welcome."

Mel saw Silo and Dice's demeanor change with the man's words. 

"I'm going to reach into my back pocket for my phone and call Trey Jackson, president of HMC-Missoula, yeah?  Can I have him call whoever holds the Czar gavel?"  Dice had folded his hands on the tabletop with Mel and Transport copying his move.  Mel didn't want to give the other bikers any excuse to start something.  The man who had only nodded pulled out his on cellphone, took a couple steps back and made a call.

At the older one's nod, Mel heard Dice speaking with Trey before being given the number of the Czar's pres.  After Dice disconnected, Silo slid over motioning to the recruit's to do the same.

"Might as well let us buy you boys a drink while the big fucks talk things through," the large man offered, his bald head gleaming in the different LED lights scattered around the bar.

"Don't mind if we do.  I'm Storm and this here's Yak," the older man advised sitting with a plop that caused a wheeze from the seat.  Mel felt the tension ease as the men joined them at their table.  It didn't take long and cell phones rang. 

After quickly finishing his beer, Dice stood and made a point of shaking hands with the two men thanking them for the way they'd handled the situation.  On the way across the parking lot, Dice explained his call with Trey.  "He said we were to get the fuck out of there AS-fucking-AP.  He's never heard of the Czars and is trying to get a fuckin' location on where Bishop is so he can get the skinny on 'em.  Said we're to leave before sunup tomorrow and to avoid Livingston on our way back except to fuckin' blow through."

Mel looked at Silo and saw his look of concern.  In Mel's mind, that was lesson number two for the evening.  Number one had been about going to public places and where to sit in order not to put himself at risk.  But the latest one had put him on edge.  That he could find himself in deep shit if the local club discovered his affiliation and his presence was there without their expressly given permission.

When they got back to the hotel, Silo pulled the two recruits aside.  "Want you two fuckers to sleep with one eye open tonight due to what just went down.  Tomorrow night'll be better 'cause we'll damn-well be on fuckin' Hellion-Sheridan property.  Stay alert and don't open the fuckin' door without checking to see who it is, all right?"

Mel tried to keep a neutral face but his stomach did another hard clench at the advice. 

What the hell had he gotten himself into? 

From the way the other brothers had talked of them, runs were supposed to be a good time even if it was for business.  A way to let off some steam and alleviate the need to ride for as long and as far as a biker could go.   At that moment, Mel held a different opinion.

Although, he felt a hell of a lot better the next morning when the signs for Livingston were in his rearview mirrors.  

*.*.*.*.*

I received a very nice and very sincere apology for my little 'gift' from Silo even if it contained a lot of curse words. 

"Sorry.  Didn't know it wasn't the right goddamn shit to do, princess," he'd said looking earnest.  "It won't ever fuckin' happen again.  Just wanted to make you feel better.  Get you back to being your fuckin' sweet self, you know?"

Like I said, nice.  Or as nice as a biker could make it.  "Thanks, Si.  I appreciate and accept your apology," I said trying to smile as if I meant it.