Rising (2 page)

Pool balls clanked in the background. Seven weeks—his time off with accrued vacation—gave him a lot of downtime. It would be a good change from working the rig and flipping pipes all day. The pay was good, but his work was backbreaking, and now that he’d assumed the added responsibilities of the brotherhood, there was a lot on his plate. He invited Bobby Jack to join him at the bar for a drink when they arrived in town. His cousin chose to go home to his wife instead. Riley snorted; the boy was seriously pussy-whipped.

Bobby and Whit were still living in that run-down apartment building he found them in and he didn’t believe they had any intention of ever moving. His cousin could afford a nicer place, but for whatever reason, they wouldn’t leave the apartment they’d lived in for the past year. He didn’t buy in to all the brotherhood rhetoric about the brown and black skins being spawn of the devil, but he couldn’t exactly get comfortable around them, either. He had never been one to associate with too many coloreds. Riley’s philosophy was simple—live and let live.

However, Bobby Jack seemed happy surrounded by so many unknowns, and Riley found watching his kin cuddled up to people he’d always been told were the enemy was a bit unnerving. His cousin moved from one extreme to the other. Riley was having an especially hard time understanding that Bobby Jack married a black woman. Whit was easy on the eyes; but why buy the milk when you can get the cow for free, especially a brown cow. There were more than enough good white women to warm his bed.

Riley sighed. Sometimes he thought Bobby Jack was purposely trying to piss off Uncle Isaac. A King Kleagle in the Klan, Isaac would become a laughing stock in the KKK if word ever got out that his son was a race traitor. Tensions were already running high between Klan leaders and the Aryans. Riley could ruin Isaac’s faction with his knowledge, but if he revealed what he knew, then it would hurt Bobby Jack. God, but he hated politics. He promised Aunt Elizabeth he would protect the idiot, and he intended to keep his word, no matter how hard his kin made it. The brotherhood would look to make an example of Bobby Jack for flaunting his choice of lifestyle.

He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a deep swig. The cold brew flowed over his tongue, leaving a strong barley aftertaste. Riley glanced around. Not many people were around, unusual for the evening hours. His home away from home was a mash up of everything the brotherhood believed in, and that was actually a little comforting, given the state of affairs going on in the world. A huge swastika dominated the far wall against a blood-red background. Posters about various Aryan events littered the walls, some drooping like peeling wallpaper. Signatures of visiting members from different movements filled the remaining open space. The names were different, but they all proclaimed the same thing before signing off—a pure, white America.

A few guys hovered around the pool table. He met the gaze of each man and one, Justin, held up a pool cue. Riley shook his head. He would have another beer and head home; he had a hot date with the cool sheets on his bed. The bartender slid a bottle in front of him and he nodded his thanks.

He blew out a long breath; he and Bobby Jack needed to have a long talk. His younger cousin was more like a brother, but was disregarding the fact that they all had roots in the Klan and Aryan Nation. No one openly challenged his relationship with Bobby Jack, but theirs was a small community that would only be pushed so far. Right now, tense undercurrents of unrest were simmering below the surface of their brotherhood. No doubt, if Uncle Isaac got the chance, he would light the match that ignited the bullshit.

Riley set the bottle on the bar. After three months on the rig, it would be good to sleep in his own bed. Maybe, he’d call up an old girlfriend. He had some stress to work off.

The door squeaked open and a sliver of failing daylight bisected the dark room. A long shadow spread across the floor. He followed the curvy lines to the door. Someone stood in the entrance, golden light sparkling behind her. She stepped into the room and the thin metal barrier slammed closed.

Her short trench coat was wrapped tightly around her, the knot cinched at her waist. Water spots stained her shoulders. He glanced down at her feet. Pink painted toe nails peeked out from a layer of mud. Dried patches of dirt coated the ankles, halfway up the calves of shapely legs. The hem of her coat fell just above the knee. She clutched high-heeled sandals in her hand. He continued his upward perusal. Her skin reminded him of a rich, smooth, chocolate bar. Big black curls with lighter strands of blonde hung limp over her shoulders.

Riley met her gaze and cocked his head. The way her shoulders slumped and her tears left tracks down her cheeks gave her an air of sadness. She stared at him through rich brown eyes framed by long thick lashes. He did a double take. Her face was full and the corners of her luscious lips turned down, giving her a pouty look. He glanced down at her figure again. She was what folks around there like to call big-boned. Luscious and plentiful, her body was meant for holding. Briefly, he wondered how soft her curves would feel under his body.

She cleared her throat and pressed her lips together in a firm line before rushing across the room to the bar. Riley followed her movement with curiosity, interested in how a black woman even found the place.

The structure was actually built on farmland donated by a Klan member, a place to mingle with friends of a like mind. It was far off the beaten path, and there was no way a person could just drive up to it. From the outside, the clubhouse looked like an old bar with one neon sign for a beer brand. The inside of the building told the true story of what their group stood for, and a pretty black woman just walked into it without a care in the world.

“Niggers ain’t welcome.” The bartender laid his palms flat on the bar’s surface and loomed forward.

She didn’t hesitate in her flippant response. “Good thing I don’t consider myself one.” She lifted her chin.

Riley hung his head. Could the woman not take a blatant hint?

The pool players in the back of the room lined up in front of the table. “What do we have here? A pet to play with?” One guy dug into his pocket and yanked his hand free, jiggling change in his palm. “Do you dance, monkey?”

The woman swung around and set her fists on her hips. “I got your fucking animal, you backwater bast—” She exhaled. “Look, I have had a hard day. You don’t like me. Get in the damn line.” She spun on her heels and faced the bartender. “My cell died. I need a phone and…” she sighed. “…a phone book. Or maybe, God forbid, one of you charming people could tow my car. I have no problem paying for the service.”

She was a bold one. Riley wiped a hand down his face to cover the smile threatening to overtake his lips. Two of the three guys took a few steps toward them.

Riley held up a hand, palm forward and they stopped. “Woman, you need to leave. Blacks ain’t welcome here.” He rose from his seat.

She marched forward and stabbed a finger into his chest. “What don’t you understand about needing a phone? I am so tired of people and their damn hang-ups. What happened to common human decency?”

A sizzle of electricity coursed through his torso from the spot.

“Bitch better leave before I beat the tar off her.” Justin stomped forward.

“Stand the fuck down, Justin. I got this.” Riley had to act fast, or shit was going to get messy. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and dragged her palm down his body. “You walked into a situation that you won’t be able to get the hell out of.”

The bartender moved away from the counter and dipped down, disappearing from view.

Riley shoved her back. “Get the hell out.” She stumbled, but caught the back of a chair and righted herself. Briefly, he caught fear in her stare when she peered up at him. This was for her good, he reminded himself.

“We can teach the uppity nigger a lesson. You don’t have to get your hands dirty, Riley.” Justin spoke while the other two turned and strode to the door.

“No need.” He stalked up to her and gripped her shoulders to spin her around. He shoved her toward the door. She stumbled to one knee, and cried out before scrambling to her feet. He fisted his hands to keep from offering her a hand up. “Give me a few minutes. It’s been a while since I have indulged in dark meat.” Riley kept up his brisk pace, tossing the words over his shoulder.

“Show her what a real man can do,” a man hollered. “Save some pussy for us.”

She reached for the knob and jerked the door open. He pressed his palms to her back and tossed her through the exit. The air was clean with the scent of rain, and the lone halogen bulb that lit the miniscule parking lot flickered on.

She shuffled around, and held up her fists. The situation would be funny if he wasn’t trying to save her life. A hurried glance at the bar’s entrance confirmed no one followed him. “In a few minutes, those good ol’ boys are going to come out looking to take a chunk of your hide. The way I see it, you have two choices. Stay here and die, or come with me.”

“And die?” She reared back.

“You’re black, a nonentity made to be used for a white man’s pleasure.” He slipped keys out of his pocket. “Those men will rape you and that’s being kind. I know for a fact Justin is one twisted motherfucker.” Riley blew out a tense breath. “But hey, if you think you can handle it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”

“I brought you out here with me instead of leaving you in there with them.” He tapped the key fob and his truck light flashed. “Tick tock, woman!” He strode toward his vehicle.

Following him, she hop-skipped across the gravel. Relief filled him. He had no problem leaving niggers to fend for themselves, but this woman was like a duck out of water. She really had no sense of the danger she’d put herself in. Riley gripped the handle of his door and opened it. Black or not, he had a soft spot for women, and this one needed his help.

He watched as she struggled to climb into the cab, teetering on the step-up bar. Her coat gaped, giving him glimpses of soft brown skin. Ample cleavage filled the V-shaped opening between the lapels.

Sweet mother of God, she wasn’t wearing any clothes under the covering.

Riley dragged his gaze away from her and climbed into the driver’s side. He stabbed the key into the ignition. The engine turned over and the truck roared to life. The quicker he got rid of her, the better off he would be.

“Where can I drop you off?”

Chapter Two

She skimmed her hands across the glossy desk’s surface. Savannah did a happy wiggle in her seat and grinned. She had a job. It didn’t have the perks or salary like the position she gave up in Atlanta, and her office was the size of a broom closet, but she couldn’t contain the excitement coursing through her.

She leaned back in her chair and dropped her head on the rest. The overhead lights washed the room in a dull fluorescent glow, and turned the walls sickly pea green.

It had been a couple of days since she arrived in Mobile. An image of the white guy who’d helped her out of her sticky situation flashed through her mind. Why was she suddenly thinking about him? He’d dropped her off in front of her apartment building without a word. She could have counted on one hand the number of times he spoke to her during the drive. She did notice, however, that his profile was extremely attractive, and she’d spent most of the drive into town taking sly glances at her silent companion.

Both his arms were covered with black tattoos that snaked up to his biceps and disappeared under rolled-up shirt sleeves. Some of the marking resembled swastikas, letters, and numbers that had no meaning to her. She’d itched to reach out and slide her fingertips over his skin. He wore a baseball cap pulled low so she couldn’t see the color of his eyes, only the faint lines that flared out from the side. His angular jaw was covered in a short dark beard that needed a trim. The muscles in his jaw bunched, as if he was clenching his teeth. When he shifted gears, her gaze was drawn to the play of muscles in his arms and legs. The way his thigh tensed and then flexed created intriguing bulges beneath the worn jeans.

She’d been enthralled. Dwayne, her ex-fiancé, had a nice body, but the prime specimen she’d ridden into town with had a fabulous one.

She chuckled. Not in a thousand years would she have imagined being rescued. Especially by such a man, and those thoughts suddenly made her self-conscious. As plain old Savannah Regis, she was nothing special. A little on the heavy side, but no one had looked at her twice in Atlanta. But in his company, her palms were so moist she’d scrubbed them down the sides of her coat. That was when she cussed. She had her keys, but had left her purse.

His response had been unexpected. “Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?” The words rolled through his lips like a smooth sweet Moscato. She used the opportunity to twist around and openly stare at him. He was peering at her. Beneath the bill of his cap, she could just make out the light brown color of his eyes. They were unusual and mesmerizing.

“I left my car in the middle of nowhere with my belongings.” She’d patted her pocket and relieved that she’d at least brought her wallet. Since the guy was kind enough to give her a ride, she’d wanted to at least reimburse him for his gas and time.

“That would explain the mud,” he’d muttered. “How long did it take you to walk to the bar?”

Suddenly the stranger had become inquisitive and the way he’d gazed at her made her uncomfortable. Her response had been waspish. “What does it matter?” She knew she wasn’t looking her best, and pushed the limp strands dangling over her eyes behind her ear.

“Humor me,” he’d grumbled as he turned his attention back to the road.

Answering him was the least she could do, and she had to think if she really wanted to. She was so angry at the world then. “I don’t know, an hour and a half maybe, not that it did me any good.” Annoyance at his inquisitiveness dripped from her words. Her move was supposed to have been her great beginning. She’d planned almost every detail, only to end up lost and without a vehicle. “My car and everything I brought with me are God knows where and a stranger—even though you’re very nice—is interrogating me like I’m a suspect in a criminal investigation. And did I mention—my favorite pair of shoes are ruined… Ruined.” Frustration had made her words sound like strangled screeching.

“Are you always this dramatic?” He’d dismissed her concerns, shook his head and made a turn onto a busy lane.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Who the hell was she kidding—she’d stepped into a bizarre alternate universe the moment her GPS went berserk. “Where are we?” Things had never been easy for her, so why should she have expected her drive to Mobile to be any different?

“You said Temple Terrace Apartments.” He’d pulled into the parking lot surrounding the high rise buildings. “Listen close, Sweetness…”

Did he just address her with an endearment? His words didn’t come out like a Southern gentleman laying on the charm. “Look—” She could admit she might not be the best looking woman, but she wasn’t just any piece of ass, either.

“Do you know how to be quiet?” He’d shook his head before continuing. “Stay away from that bar and the surrounding area. I’ll see what I can do about getting your car back to you.” He stopped and shifted the vehicle into park. “All right?”

“Do you have a name?” Stuck in the backwoods, she was forgetting her manners. Truth was, she was tired and didn’t want to be polite; but she was raised better than that.

“Riley.” A ghost of a smile sent the corners of his lips upward briefly. “You might want to invest in a sturdy pair of boots.” He’d glanced down at her dirty toes. “If you plan on running around in the woods barefoot.”

His comments might have been made in jest, but she hadn’t seen them that way at the time. She’d thrust the door open and twisted around, stuffing her hand into the pocket of her coat to retrieve her wallet. “How much do I owe you for the ride?”

“Miss, no self-respecting southerner would charge for the pleasure of your company. Even if you are colored.” He turned in his seat and she again faced his profile.

For a moment she thought she’d seen his lip quiver before she’d struggled to get out the cab without exposing her ass to the world for all to see. She set her palm on the outside of the door. “Your sarcasm doesn’t elude me.”

“I didn’t think it would.” His voice quavered as if he was having a hard time containing his laughter.

She’d tried to slam the heavy door hard, but when she shoved at it, the damn thing shut with a quiet click. Riley sped off as if he couldn’t leave fast enough. It might have been nice to see him again. He didn’t appear to pull any punches, and that was interesting. Fake people could make a soul tired, and God knew she had enough of those in her life.

But he wasn’t the man for her. His tats alone told a story she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. He’d helped her and she appreciated it.

Gentle taps pulled her away from the memories of Riley. She sighed and lifted her head to stare at the doorway.

Trenton Bishop stood on the threshold, gripping a bouquet of colorful daisies. “These are still your favorite, right? ‘Crazy daisies,’ you called them in law school.”

“Trent, I wasn’t expecting to see you this soon.” She grinned. “Come on in.” Savannah waved a hand toward one of the two mismatched chairs in front of her desk.

He squeezed between them and unbuttoned his suit jacket before sitting. “You know I wasn’t going to leave my favorite girl hanging,” he answered smoothly. “Was everything okay with the move? Did you like the apartment? I know you agreed to everything sight unseen.”

“Yeah, it was great. I really appreciate everything you did for me. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.” She leaned forward and set her elbows on her desk.

“You know, you could have just stayed with me. I have plenty of room at the house.” He smiled to reveal dazzling white teeth. “How about you let me take you to dinner?”

Trenton Bishop was one put-together brother. In college, he always wore a suit to his classes. His skin was smooth and darker than the blackest night. A thin line of hair flowed over his succulent upper lip. He had the clearest brown eyes and shaved his head bald. He was her study partner in law school. From the time she met him in college, he never wavered from his plan to be Attorney General of the State of Alabama.

Staring at him, she cocked her head. “Don’t you have that backward? Isn’t it me that should be taking you to dinner for organizing everything in my absence?”

In school, she wanted so badly to be his girlfriend. Trenton never seemed to see past her body. The women he went out with were always thin and gorgeous. Thinking back on it now, they looked a lot like her sister Charlotte.

“You’re still an amazingly beautiful woman.” He leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “I consider myself lucky if you would accompany me this evening.”

“And you still have a way with words. Save your charm for someone who doesn’t know you.” She chuckled. “I can’t tonight. I have some errands to run after work and need to report my car stolen or missing.”

He raised a well-manicured brow. “How does one report their car missing? What happened?”

“How about I tell you over lunch?” She gently tugged her hand free and pulled a drawer out to retrieve her purse.

“You always did end up in the most interesting situations. I imagine your move was no different.” He rose. “Savannah?” His tone was sweeter than fresh honey.

She stopped next to him. “Yes?”

“I’m happy you’re here.” He reached up and brushed his knuckles against her jaw. “It’s been a long time since we spent any real time together. I miss that. Perhaps we can become better friends this time.”

She turned away from his touch. Once upon a time she ached to have him call her name as if he was saying a prayer, but they were never intimate. He always kept her at arm’s length, treated her like a sister. They never shared so much as a chaste kiss. She pursed her lips. Her old friend was behaving out of character.

Savannah backed up a few steps and picked up the flowers. “I’ll just stop by the breakroom and put these into a cup of water until I get back. I’m in the mood for Chinese, how about you?” She would ignore this change in his personality. It had been years since they actually spent any time together. He probably became more flirtatious as he got older.

“I know a great place on Main.” Trenton urged her in front of him and placed his hand at the small of her back as they exited the room.

Her friend was witty and charismatic. His interest in her should have flattering. She moved into the lunch area, clutching the daisies. Grabbing a mug, she ran water into the makeshift vase before placing the bouquet in it. Trenton waited, leaning on the wall outside of the room, watching her intensely. She glanced up and tried to smile. His concentration was disturbing; like he was the wolf and she was the rabbit. She disregarded the feeling of unease. Della always told her she blew things out of proportion, maybe she did. She walked out the room and down the hall with her old friend following closely behind.

****

Riley bounced in his seat as he navigated the deep ruts in the dirt road. The air was on full blast, keeping the cab cold.

He glanced over at his cousin. He’d called Bobby Jack and asked for his help retrieving a car. For a few days, he debated. He could leave the vehicle where it was; the area was remote and it could take years for somebody to find it if they weren’t looking. How the hell did she end up so far back in the damn woods? Some of these roads hadn’t been used in forever.

Riley exhaled; she was lucky she only stumbled on the bar.

“What are we looking for again?” Bobby Jack lifted his head off the rest and gazed at Riley.

“A car.” He kept his answers short to avoid answering too many questions.

“I need more information, cousin. What is the make and model of the auto? What color? Who does it belong to, and why are you searching for it?” Bobby Jack rubbed his eyes and an easy smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Why so secretive?”

“You’re being nosy now,” he grumbled.

“Whit calls me inquisitive.” Bobby Jack twisted around to gaze at the back seat. “Ain’t that right, big guy?”

Rambunctious laughter drifted from behind them. “Me fix cars, Daddy,” Isaac, his four-year-old nephew, responded in a small voice.

Riley peered at the kid’s image in the rearview mirror and grinned. “Be more than me and your daddy, Isaac. Don’t just fix them, create ’em, build them. Do something great.”

The kid nodded and his white-blond hair whipped back and forth. “I’m hungry.”

Bobby Jack spun forward and picked up a soft-sided cooler from the floor. He pulled a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the container. “Looks like Mommy packed all your favorites, son.” He reached back and handed the sandwich to the boy.

“Thank you.” Isaac clutched the soft bread.

Riley slowed down. Blocking his way was a late model sedan, the lime green exterior splattered with mud. Broken branches littered the area and the front tires were half-buried in dirt.

“That’s a nice car. Who did you say you were picking it up for again?” Bobby Jack cocked a brow.

“I didn’t.” Riley slipped the truck in park and disengaged the locks. He jumped out and his booted feet sank into the soft silt.

Bobby Jack exited through the passenger door and walked around the grill. “We are going to have to dig the tires out. You got the keys?”

“Naw, but I think the doors are open. We can turn the truck around and hook it up to tow. Grab a shovel from the tool box.”

Riley walked around the sedan. The car suited her, a hard-top convertible. Images of the skin she’d unintentionally exposed filled his mind. He pursed his lips; he promised her he would deliver the car to her. Why he’d given his word wasn’t something he wanted to think on too closely. It was easier to drop the auto off in the parking lot of her apartment building and let her find it.