SAVIOR: A Motorcycle Club Romance (13 page)

“It’s not just that,” Lucia added, flipping through some papers in her binder. “There’s this deal in the works where we can license our name to bars and grills. There’s a lot of money to be made in the licensing business.”

Cassius grimaced as if she had described turning the club into a brothel. Suddenly, the expression on his face changed. “Did I ever tell you kids how your father met your mother?”

Lucia rolled her eyes. “I don’t think now is the time for an anecdote.”

Dante, however, was more curious. “What are you getting at Uncle Cass?”

“You see my brother, Vergil, was the younger one,” he began. “So, he usually got left home with our mother when your grandfather and I worked at the club or garage. However, the little devil made up for lost opportunities getting into lots of trouble at school. Soon, the hell-raiser started to have a reputation among the locals and the law started to take notice. It wasn’t a good thing to have that kind of… prestige when you start getting threatened with prison time instead of detention. The fox sleeps easier when they know the hound isn’t on the prowl.”

Now, Lucia was intrigued. “Go on.”

“Your father needed way to look like a law abiding citizen,” Cassius continued. “So he went to the nicest girl in town from a well-respected family. And knowing his tastes, she also happened to be the prettiest girl in town. He had found someone the entire town liked and he asked her for a date with hat in hand. Being around such a nice, kind-hearted girl transformed his reputation almost overnight. However, it was only just for the cameras. He was a boy scout by the day… and a biker by night.”

Dante smiled at the familiar story. “I guess he didn’t count on falling in love with mom.”

Uncle Cassius shook his head. “The point is that we have a way of dealing with the media by creating a smokescreen. If we get those media dogs chasing after another bone, you can go ahead with your plan of making the company public without any controversy. What better distraction than a fairy tale romance?”

Lucia followed along. “So if we can get someone who is a law-abiding citizen and unattached… we can move the focus from Uncle Cassius’s release to your impromptu and very public romance.”

Dante’s eyes shot opened wide in disbelief. “Wait, what?”

“We need a clean-living woman who will agree to your sham marriage,” his Uncle said, far too amused at the scenario. “I guess if she’s a cutie, it wouldn’t exactly hurt.”

“What you’re saying is that I get hitched with some goody-two-shoes so our PR gets a booster shot?” Dante asked incredulously. “How we going to find someone who will agree to this charade?”

“We have the money to pay her off,” Lucia answered, a teasing smile on her face. “Besides, women would want to be with a handsome guy like you for free.”

“Even if I agree to this… why me? Why not Lucia?”

“Because you’re not only a dashing knight in leather armor but also the head of the company,” his sister teased. “I’m just the company’s CFO. It would make a better headline if the Black Hound’s playboy CEO and perpetual bachelor decided to finally settle down with a nice, kind-hearted girl. It’ll be a fresh start for the company and its young CEO’s personal life. Our marketing department will love that line! We might actually have something here…”

Dante sighed in defeat. “If this saves the IPO…”

“It will, Dante,” his sister answered with a devious smile. She was enjoying this more than she had any right to. “I’ll handle all the details. You just have to play your part as the bad boy biker who will turn over a new leaf.”

“Well then, I’m going to need a smoke,” Cassius laughed. “I might become somebody’s granduncle.”

This was too much for the club president. He rummaged into his jacket for the keys to his motorcycle. “And I’m going to need to take a ride to clear my head.”

Chapter Two: Trisha

“Welcome to Foxtail Farms! This is Trisha Kaplan, how can I help you?”

Trisha knew name was a bit of a lie. It actually should have been singular as in one farm. However, Foxtail Farms made it sound like a thriving business. She had to put on a brave face all the time. The fact that she was talking to someone over the phone rather than face to face didn’t change matters.

“Dear sir or madam,” the pre-recorded voice began. Trisha already knew this was trouble from the metallic hiss of the electronic voice. “You’re eligible for a credit card offer with no interest for-”

She clicked end button on the phone. The young woman was surprised to get such an offer considering her credit rating. Then again, someone who had to keep herself afloat through credit cards was the perfect target for these telemarketers. It was like peddling a lifetime supply for vodka to a recovering alcoholic.

The farm girl was half a mind to disconnect the phone to stop these devils from peddling their goods. It was bad enough she had to cut off her cell phone plan because the cost was too much. However, a respectable business needed some means of communication with its customers.

That was the big problem. There were less and less customers to talk to. It was tough being the owner of a private farm. Most of her peers had years to build up close relationships with retailers and hone their craft. Trisha was like a high school athlete competing at the big leagues. She hated to admit but she was hopelessly outgunned and outmatched.

That’s not even considering the big food companies who dominated the region. While they didn’t have the love and care of local farmers, they certainly had prices to attract customers. There was no way for a small private farm to compete with them.

For that matter, there was no way she would be able to run the farm. The bills were started to rack up. Trisha’s line of credit was stretched to its limit. The end was in sight.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It had to be Enrique. The man had been her father’s close friend and business partner. Now, he was her business partner. The woman rushed to unlock the door.

“Sorry, I was with a phone call,” she said to a man who was practically her uncle. He ran a small chain of grocery chain in a nearby city. He had been a longtime patron of Foxtail Farms. “Come on in, Enrique. I can make us some tea. I have your favorite peach-mango herbal tea-”

The middle-aged man stayed at the doorstep. “I won’t be staying long, Trisha. I just wanted to update you on our next order.”

The woman’s heart sank at the news. “An Update?”

“I’ll only be able to buy half a shipment of strawberries,” he said. “As for the kale. I’m afraid we just can’t afford it.”

“Half a shipment?” Trisha gasped. “That barely covers the cost of making it! It’s already hard growing when we have to conserve water for the drought.”

“I’m giving you the best deal I can,” Enrique sighed. “My chain is co-owned by the two other people. They would rather save few pennies than pay a little extra for your quality. I’m trying to give you as much business as I can.”

Trisha’s shoulder’s slumped in defeat. “Well, I guess that’s just the nature of this business.”

“I know it’s been tough, Trisha,” the man said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t imagine how difficult it has been for you to take charge of the family business, especially so soon after their deaths.”

“It’s in the past, Enrique,” the woman replied, feeling a tinge in her heart. “I’ve gotten over it. Now, I’m trying to get this farm afloat before I drown with it.”

“No young woman desires to spend her days going from leak to leak,” the man replied. “Trisha, you don’t have to do this. There are other to deal with your problems. You could always sell the farm-”

“Out of the question,” Trisha interrupted. “Foxtail Farms in my birthright. It’s been in my family for generations. Mom and Dad worked so hard to keep this place running.”

“I know you’ve been operating at a loss for months,” Enrique pleaded. “Think of your workers. Think of yourself. It’ll be a lot easier to move on if you cut your losses now rather than later.”

“I don’t want to be the one who lost the farm…”

“I know it’ll be hard but you have to do this. I’ve been in this business long enough to know when a business is on its last legs. This farm will go belly up in a few months. You don’t want to get caught under it and end up paying debts for the rest of your life.”

“Not happening,” she said adamantly. “Besides, who would buy a failing business? I can barely afford to pay my workers. I’m up to my ears in debt…”

“Listen, the business may not be worth much but the land is a different story,” he said. Her heart sank at his words. Trisha knew he was right but she hated the mere idea of it. “Look Trisha, I’m saying this as one of your father’s oldest friends. You need to do what’s best for you. Don’t let your pride get in the way of your reason. Sell the land and you’ll be able to live comfortably until you find some other type of work.”

“Enrique, I’ve been a farm girl my entire life,” she said, trying to fight back tears. “I’ve grown up milking cows and putting turnips. This is my life. I can’t just sell what’s left my parents.”

The man sighed. “It’s just something to think about, Beatrix. Just make sure to take care of yourself”

Trisha gave a soft nod. “So long.”

After watching Enrique depart, the young woman decided to take a stroll through her field. The farm wasn’t big compared to her rivals but she was proud of it. Watching the cycle of planting crops and watching them grow never got old.

She watched her workers toil away I the fields. She couldn’t afford to hire many of them but she appreciated the work of the ones who worked for her. Trisha realized that it was not just her future at stake. Her workers had families to feed as well. Perhaps selling the farm would be the best choice in ensuring she and her workers had the best future they could possibly have.

That’s when she saw a stranger talking with Harold, one of her workers. The looked dangerous between his leather jacket and his fingerless gloves. The young woman had seen him from somewhere before.

There was an expensive looking motorcycle parked in the driveway. It looked way more powerful than her dad’s cold V92C. Its fuel tank had an emblem of some type of dog.

The man would be just as intimidating if not for his boyish smile. His eyes were bright, welcoming, and intelligent. However, his body was as powerful and rugged looking as his motorcycle. A trail of intricate tattoos snaked its way across his collarbone and onto the side of his neck. There was a small scar running to across his temple. Trisha wondered if he got it from a motorcycle crash.

Or a violent fist fight.

That was when she realized who he was. That man was Dante Alastair, president of the Black Hound Motorcycle Club. She had seen his handsome face and his motorcycle club on the news and in her dad’s old subscription to Motorcycle Monthly.

Now, the man was trying to start a motorcycle manufacturing company. She didn’t know why this man would care about her tiny farm. The motorcycle club president claimed that he wanted to legitimize his business and give back to the community. It was a line she had heard from every politician and businessman who wanted to make money at the expense of the poor, including her financially strapped family.

Nevertheless, she was curious to why the bad boy biker was in her neighborhood.

Harold seemed pleased with the man. The young man was enthusiastic about the mini-tour he was conducting. “This is Ms. Kaplan. She owns the place. She’s the one you should be talking to if you’re placing that big of an order.”

Trisha’s ears perked up at the last word. “Hello, I am Beatrix Kaplan, owner of Foxtail Farms. And you are?”

“Pleased to meet you, Beatrix,” he replied, his eyes fixated on the woman. “My name is Dante Alastair. I was just discussing a business to business deal with Harold just now.”

Trisha fought and failed to keep from blushing. The biker was even more handsome and charming in person than he was in magazines. His face was proud and sculpted like that of a Renaissance statue. His windswept hair was of medium length and looked incapable of being combed properly. The man was gorgeous and he knew it. He had the tall, well-muscled build of a man and the boyish swagger of troublemaking teenager.