Reinventing Mel: A Hellion MC Novel (17 page)

In dropping off the mail to the various offices, I overheard Brand detailing that Mel would be out of work on club business for the next few days.  Something I considered a good thing.  I didn't want to be pursued or chased in order to be given his regrets—that is if he'd even figured out what he'd done. 

Although I did still count him as a friend and had hoped we could've been more together.

But the biggest hiccup to my day was when my little Fiat conked out in the middle of North Russell.  My auto club card had been in daddy's name so using it was a no go.  Without thinking twice, I called the yard phone at HC and was told a tow truck would be there shortly.  After about fifteen minutes I saw the truck emblazoned with Hellion Construction on its doors make its way to where I stood.  Luckily, North Russell had a center lane so traffic was able to go around me and my nonworking car.

"Miss Palmer?  I'm Gritty and I'll be your ride today."  The redheaded man that met me was wearing a Hellions MC vest with the word 'recruit' in a patch on the front, just like the one that I'd seen Mel wear.  Gritty wasted no time in getting my little car connected to the truck before asking me where we were towing it.

"I don't think there's a Fiat shop in town," I replied nervously.  "So I'm not sure where to go."

"Fiat's foreign, right?"

I nodded.

"Then IMPORTance is the only place to go," Gritty said shooting me a grin.  "My brother works there so maybe we can even see about getting you a deal!"

"First they're going to have to figure out what's wrong, though," I sighed, facing the passenger window but not even noticing the view outside.  I hated car trouble and always felt like my lack of automotive knowledge put me at the mercy of whoever knew more than I did.  Which was everyone.

But in less than thirty minutes I'd handed over my key and signed paperwork so the shop could investigate the problem with the assurance that they would call me with the results the following day.

When we were back in the truck, Gritty asked for directions to my place.  After giving it to him, I wondered aloud how I was going to get to work in the morning.

"Oh, no worries.  We can either pick you up tomorrow or bring by one of the extra rides from the yard tonight.  Whichever you prefer."  Gritty seemed very happy to have had an immediate solution on hand. 

"I don't want to take up so much of your time, though."

I got another grin as Gritty said, "it's what we do, Miss Palmer.  Just let me know and we'll take it from there."

So we worked out that he would pick me up the next morning and take me to work.  Depending on what the repair shop said, I'd then make my decision regarding a loaner.  As we worked out the particulars, I saw two motorcycles pull into the apartment's driveway and drive slowly passed us.

"Ghosts?"  Gritty asked, eyeing them as carefully as they were eyeing us.

"Yes.  I think two of them live across from me."

"That's not good, Miss Palmer."  All traces of humor was gone from the young redhead's voice and face as he shut off the truck and reached for the handle to exit.  "I'll walk you to your door but you need to get inside quickly and make sure you lock up tight, okay?"

I had been nervous about living across from the other club's members but something in Gritty's voice had icy tiptoes of fear moving up my back.  "Uhm, okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning at seven but I'll bring a different ride," he said as his head moved from side to side as we stepped up the walkway to my apartment.  "Do you want me to check your place before you go inside?"

Was he kidding?  Was he really that concerned that someone had been in my home?  I just stared at him, blinking.

"Let's get you inside first and I'll just do a quick walk through, all right?"

I could only nod as I unlocked my deadbolt and keyed entrance.  He placed me against a wall next to the door as he quickly made his way through the different rooms.  "Okay, all clear.  Be sure to lock up after I leave and close all your blinds and drapes.  I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Palmer."

"Thanks for all your help, Gritty."  I wasn't sure if I was supposed to tip him or not.  "See you in the morning."

He flashed me a smile before he let himself out and I made sure all the locks were engaged before moving throughout to do as he'd instructed. 

I wasn't feeling so cozy in my cute place anymore.

Chapter Seventeen

For Mel, the lessons regarding the club, how the rest of the world perceived both it and him, just kept on coming. 

Their group had left Livingston by six a.m. but just two hours later, on the other side of Billings, a pair of County deputy sheriffs pulled them over.  After patting them down, studying their identification, the cops decided to take them in.  Six hours later they finally made their way back to where they'd parked their bikes to continue on.  The delay was explained as a 'problem with the computers in verifying your information'.  But Mel had seen the disappointed, pissed off looks on the cop's faces when Silo, Dice and Transport were able to produce their CC along with their other IDs.

It was harassment, pure and simple, in Mel's eyes.

As they traveled back to their rides, in a local taxi that shuddered, shimmied and coughed down the highway, Mel heard Silo call Trey to give him an update.

"Naw, Trey.  Just to fuck with us.  Can't remember it being this bad on our last run to Sheridan," Silo rumbled.  "Yeah.  We'll see how it goes and I'll talk to Wolf to figure out what's doing around here.  Will do.  Later."

The big man caught the looks of the others and explained.  "Trey wants us to stay on our toes and see if Wolf knows what's going on 'cause this shit ain't cool.  Wants us to stay in touch but to get our asses fuckin' back at the soonest."

"No shit," Dice mumbled from his place in the center of the back seat.  "So we gonna see to Hart first, yeah?"

"Yeah, but we're gonna have to make tracks to get there before he closes.  This is supposed to be a surprise meet, dig?"

All of the men in the backseat nodded.

Fortunately Tim Hart, of Hart and Sons Land Development, was still in his office by the time they arrived.  The older lady working the desk closest to the door tried to tell them Mr. Hart was unavailable, but Mel could tell she was lying.  There was just something in her widened eyes behind the thick glasses that let him know she was running interference for her boss.

"We'll just have a little look-see," Dice said, striding confidently to the closed door on the left.  He'd obviously been at the offices before and knew his way around.

"You might want to call it a day, sweetheart," Mel advised, leaning over the older woman's desk.  Without a word, she turned off her computer and reached in her drawer for her purse before hightailing it out of the offices.

"Wait here," Silo advised as he followed Dice.  Mel and Transport looked at each other.

"What'd do we do?"  Transport asked.

"Don't know.  Wait, I guess."  Mel was just as curious as Transport about what was expected of them.  Soon, though, the voices behind the door Silo had closed behind him got loud.  Then even louder.

The door opened and Dice poked his head out.  "We're gonna need some help here, boys."

Mel followed in behind Transport and saw a average looking man, probably in his mid-to-late forties sitting behind a cheap looking desk.  The sparsely haired guy looked terrified and only became more so when he took in Transport's height and Mel's bulk.

"So the amount is $46,775.32," Silo barked.  "Your choices are immediate payment in fuckin' full or our men here get to fuck you up.  And we'll be back every week until the balance is paid.  Comprende?"

"B-but I don't have that in the b-business account."  Mel could see the man was shaking and sweat was beading across his forehead and upper lip.

"Ahh, now we're fuckin' getting somewheres," Dice breathed.  "See before you said you didn't have it.  Now it comes out you just don't have it in your damn
bidness
account.  Interesting."

"Don't give a fuck what accounts it comes from, just want the fuckin' money that's owed."  It wasn't hard to miss the menace in Silo's deep growl.  "We take fuckin' cash, credit cards and checks.  What'll it be, motherfucker?"

"I-I just d-don't have that k-kind of…" Hart started, using a hand to wipe the sweat that was starting to drip down his face.

Dice signaled Mel and Transport forward.  They each went to one side of the desk and grabbed one of the man's thin biceps.  Mel was convinced he could've broken Hart's arm with just a hard squeeze.  The guy felt even skinnier than his kid brother.

"Half!  I t-think I c-can raise half!"  The man's voice was climbing into the screaming range of the vocal scale.

"Half?  Oh, half ain't gonna do it, Charlie.  But, I'll tell you what.  You get us three quarters and my boys will only give you fuckin'
half
a beat-down."  Dice was slunk down in the visitor chair in front of the desk as if he hadn't a care in the world.  "And that just means they won't put your ass in the fuckin' hospital."

In Mel's opinion, the shade of green on Hart's face was heralding whatever the man'd had for lunch was going to be making another appearance.  Still holding the scrawny arm, Mel stepped back and behind the chair a bit to remove himself from the anticipated trajectory.

"Let me…let me check my personal accounts and credit cards," the man said on a swallow before pulling his keyboard towards him.

"Now you're talkin'," Dice said with a wink.

"Why don't you two go in the other room so we can give the man some room to work."  Silo's suggestion was offered with a smirk.

Mel and Transport left the office, closing the door behind them.  Once they were in the center of the room, Transport turned and leaned towards Mel.  "You ever done this kind of shit before?"

"Yeah.  Back in Texas," Mel admitted.  "Had a hard time with it in the beginning but finally figured out there's all sorts of assholes that need an incentive to pay.  Some men just need a personal visit or a beat down to cough up the money they owe."

"Shit."  Transport turned and looked out of the one window.  "I've never done this before.  Fights, sure.  But I was pissed off then.  How do you fuck someone up when you ain't pissed off?"

"It's actually easier.  'Cause you
aren't
pissed off you can assess how much and where to hit.  Can figure out when to quit and not go overboard.  But I'm not gonna lie, the first time is hard."  Mel could feel himself slipping into his chill-mode, the sinking into himself in order to do what needed to be done to another person even as he explained to the other recruit.

"Shit, man."  Transport placed both hands on the top of his head, interlacing his fingers.  "So how do you do a
half
of a beat down?"

Mel chuckled softly.  "Don't know if there is such a thing.  I think what Dice was saying is that we make him hurt, leave him bruised and bleeding a little.  Just enough so that he feels it for a week or so."

Silo opened the door and then closed it behind him as he walked to where the recruits were standing.  "He's up to 80 percent and now fuckin' talking about getting his brother-in-law involved for the rest.  You're still gonna have to work him over though."

Mel nodded.  He understood.  Hart needed to receive a message and that message was you don't wait 180 days before paying a Hellion bill.  Not that Hart would ever get a chance to work with the construction company again. 

One thing Mel had learned in his time with the company, other businesses got one chance to fuck up.  And that fuck up would cost them dearly in the loss of having HC as either the general or even the sub-contractor on their developments.  Once word got out that HC wouldn't work with them, other reputable firms took the cue and declined to bid as well.  Leaving the owner no choice but to hire inferior firms that charged more and did less than quality work.

Dice stuck his head out the door.  "Bishop verified all funds transferred and the Hart bill is marked paid in full."

Silo nodded at his brother before turning back to the recruits.  "You're on, boys."

Mel glanced at Transport and led the way back into the office.  He knew what his fellow recruit was feeling but knew, too, he'd eventually get over it.  To find a way to deal with working a man over that would only leave small, bitter memories.

The pair didn't stop and went straight to the desk, pulling the man up and out of his chair.  Mel turned the smaller man towards him and delivered a solid plow into the softly rounded stomach.  As Hart bent over, Mel brought his fist up and tapped the other man's mouth, just enough to split his lip and bring his head up.

Transport delivered a shot to the man's kidney as Mel tapped the ribcage on the opposite side.  Even though he'd pulled his punch seeing how Hart was so out of shape, he still felt a snap of a rib.  Transport, in the meantime, did a nasty shot to the top of the man's shoulder which caused a scream.  Twirling the man towards his club brother, Mel pointed to his own eyebrow, indicating Trans was to tap it enough to split it but his gesture was obviously misunderstood when Transport pulled back his fist and let it fly into the smaller man's face.  Who just happened to turn away causing the punch to land square on his nose. 

Even Mel heard the crunch of bones as they gave way.

"Okay.  We're done," Mel called to his partner.  "Let's get him back in his chair.  Can someone get us some tissues or paper towels?"

"Fuck.  I didn't mean to hit him so hard, you know?"  Transport was standing back and staring at Hart's face, the bottom half that was now running with blood.

"It's okay.  We just have to make sure he doesn't choke on it while he's unconscious."  Mel lifted an eyelid before reaching to Hart's neck to check the carotid artery for a pulse.  Strong and steady was the reading he got.

"Here," Silo shoved a wad of paper towels into Mel's hand.  Mel put pressure on the nose until the bleeding eased to a trickle.  It was just about that time that Hart started coming around groaning, coughing and trying to move his hands.

"You're gonna be okay, sir," Mel mumbled, pressing the now bloody towels into the other man's hands.  "You can call for an ambulance after we leave."

He turned to the door and saw both Silo and Dice looking at him with a new light in their eyes, one that seemed to hold respect.  He glanced at Transport and saw his gaze was still glued to the man they'd just beaten.

"Are we done here?" Mel asked and after catching the nods of his superiors, walked between them to leave the offices, wiping his hands on his jeans as he left.  It had been only a few months since he'd been given an order to rough a man up but it felt like a lot longer with all that had changed in his life.  And while he wasn't fond of administering pain, it hadn't been the worst thing about his old job. 

No, that had been reserved for the young women that Deschames wanted to 'try' before making a decision to purchase them from their families for their virginity.

What kind of sick, old fuck buys a girl for her virginity?
Mel wondered, casting his leg over his motorcycle as he waited for his brothers to catch up to him.

*.*.*.*.*

It was a bad night for me, with every creak or groan of the older apartment building waking me up convinced someone was trying to get into my home.  Leaving me with entirely too much time to think, to remember and to let my mind imagine all sorts of terrible things that could happen living by myself.

It was a vicious circle all night long.  And by my calculations it was the longest night of my life.  Especially after I realized I was completely unprotected.  I had no security system or weapon unless you counted my beautiful set of Washington Forge knives in the holder on the kitchen counter top.  Nor had I taken any self-defense classes though Shelly had begged me to go with her to hers.

One thought though hit me the hardest.  So hard it brought tears to my eyes.

I was alone.

Not just physically but emotionally as well.  I had no real friends (besides Mel who was still in my bad graces, not to mention out of town) and no family that could come to my aid or even allow me to stay with them until the Ghost's interest in me died.  Or the bikers moved, whichever came first.