Rowan

I took Lord back up to my loft and he headed straight to his food bowl. I hugged myself, feeling safe and warm in Scooby’s jacket, even though it was ten sizes too big.

What the heck was I getting myself into with this man?

I was not this person. I never let my heart lead my head but with this man... lordy, this man... I just couldn’t seem to stop myself.

I was a rule follower by nature, and I’d always done everything I was supposed to do. I was a natural born scaredy cat, never engaging in risky behavior. I’d been raised by my grandmother after my parents had died within five years of each other. Dad died in a car crash when I was six, and my mom from cancer when I was eleven. My grandmother had just died a few years ago, which is probably what had spurred my move from registered nurse to diner owner.

Clarence Morter had been my last patient, and to put it bluntly, I’d kind of fallen in love with the old man. Not the romantic kind of love, but the kind of love my heart has always felt for the elderly. You get me anywhere near an old person, and I was unable to resist spending time with them. I wanted to know everything about them, and hear all their stories, even the ones they’d told a million times before. I adored them.

To be honest, Scooby was the first person my own age I’d felt any kind of connection with. My therapist had tried to give me ‘stretch’ assignments to put myself out there and make friends, but it always seemed to bite me in the butt. Girls were mean, and women even meaner. But the oldies? They had a wisdom that only came with time and tended to see the whole picture of life, and said it like it was, like it or lump it. I never had to read between anyone’s lines.

Lord let out a warning growl and stalked to my front door, so I made my way to it, peering through the peephole to see Scooby walking up the stairs. I pulled open the door and he frowned. “Did I say it was safe to open the door?” he growled.

“Did you forget the conversation we just had in the parking lot?”

He stopped climbing the stairs, dropping his head for a few seconds, and taking a deep breath. “I said I was sorry before, and I meant it, but you need to know, I’m not growling at you to be a dick, I’m being short because I want you to be safe. I need you to be safe.”

I bit my lip, my heart warring with my head.

“You gonna let me in?” he asked.

I stepped back and he walked inside, closing, and locking the door behind him.

“Where are your friends?” I asked.

“A couple of them are outside on watch, the other two are back at the cabin.”

“And where are the two men they beat up?”

“Okay, I think we need to set some ground rules,” he said, crossing his arms. “Because if you have a problem with what happened out there tonight, this isn’t gonna work.”

“I have a problem with what happened out there tonight.”

“Jesus, Rowan, you need to take a beat and think about it.”

“Why?”

“Because those two men were on Stanley’s payroll, and they were here to do the job I refused to do.”

I gasped. “They were?”

“Yeah, baby, they were,” he said. “You still got a problem with what happened here tonight?”

I blinked back tears. “I don’t understand. I don’t have the money. I don’t even know where the money is.”

“I do.”

“What?” I squeaked.

“A friend of the club found the money.”

“Where is it?”

“Clarence split it over a bunch of shell corporations, all with variations of some flower. Starlight—”

“The Starlight Express orchid?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She just hasn’t figured out the password. She will, it’s just gonna take—”

“I’m pretty sure I know the password.”

“You do?”

“Yes. We can get the money now,” I said.

“Ah...”

“What?” I rasped.

“It’s possible there’s another party involved. Someone who double-crossed Clarence, so we should leave the money where it is right now, even if we know the password until we find out exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“Oh, my god,” I breathed out, the tears suddenly overtaking me.

“Baby, you okay?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t think I am.”

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling me close.

“It’s my favorite flower. It’s really hard to keep alive, but my grandma had them everywhere and she taught me how to care for them,” I sobbed into his chest. “They’re so pretty, and I told Clarence all about them. He surprised me one day by having one delivered so we could have it in his home and admire it together.”

Scooby stroked my back and kissed my temple. “He sounds like a nice man.”

“He was the best,” I rasped. “I really don’t know how he ended up with an idiot kid like Stanley. Honestly, he’s pure evil, and Clarence was always so good to him.”

Frustrated that I couldn’t get close enough to Scooby, I shrugged out of his jacket and slid my arms up under his vest, burying my face into his chest again.

“We’re gonna sort this out, Rowan, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you, but we really do need to sit down and talk because you need to understand some shit before we go any further.”

I sniffed, tightening my hold, not wanting to let go, but knowing he was right. I took a deep breath and stepped back, wiping my tears with the back of my hands and nodding. “Follow me.”

I led him into my great room and flopped onto the chaise on my giant sectional. Lord jumped up beside me and settled his head in my lap, leaving Scooby no choice but to sit two cushions away from me.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he grumbled, and I couldn’t stop a small smirk as I stroked Lord’s head.

“It’s his spot,” I explained with a shrug. “So what do you want to talk about?”

“I guess that depends on you.”

“Explain, please.”

“How much do you want to know?” he asked.

“About what?”

“Me. My club. What I do,” he said.

“All of it.”

He shifted in his seat. “You sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure about that?”

“Because what happened outside isn’t a unique thing for my club,” he said. “We’re one-percenters, Rowan.”

I’m not gonna lie. I’d watched the first two episodes of a biker show on cable a few weeks ago and it had scared the crap out of me, so I’d stopped watching and tried to forget about it. “Does that mean you’re criminals?”

“It means we skirt the law on occasion,” he said. “Cannabis is our main avenue of income, and although we operate a legal business, we run up against street gangs and organized crime syndicates who do not. We sometimes have to defend our club, our people, and our product against those threats. We rarely lose.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever jaywalked, Scooby, let alone known someone with ties to the criminal underworld.”

“Yeah, baby, I get it. Which is why we’re talkin’. You have some decisions to make, because you’re either all in or all out.”

“What does ‘all in’ mean?”

“If you’re with me, club business stays club business. You don’t talk about the club outside of the club. You sure as shit don’t talk to the cops about anything, and there are gonna be times I can’t tell you what’s goin’ on. There might be times when I have to tell you to do something and you need to do it, no questions asked.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, I’m not really good at that.”

“Already figured that one out,” he retorted. “We’re gonna need to work on that.”

“What if I’m ‘all out’?”

“Then I’m out, honey. We’ll walk away. My club’s still gonna protect you, but it won’t be me doin’ it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because there’s no way in hell I can be this close to you and not have it all.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?” I whispered.

“Not gonna answer that question, until you make your decision.”

“Well, that’s obviously a yes, because if it was a no, you’d just say no,” I mumbled. I met his eyes, but he said nothing, and his expression gave nothing away. “Have you ever gone to prison?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been arrested?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“Baby, you gonna make a decision now, or do you need time to think?”

“Arrest records are public,” I pointed out.

“Then, look it up,” he said.

I sighed. “I’d rather hear it from you.”

“I’d rather tell you.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Crew Faulkner.”

“What was your brother’s?” I asked, and I saw sadness in Scooby’s eyes for a brief second.

“Otis.”

“Tell me about him.”

“That might require a drink,” he said.

I nodded, making my way to my liquor stash.

“All I have is Gin. I hope that’s okay,” I called out from the kitchen.

“Gin?” Scooby replied with a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, returning with two glasses.

“I just wouldn’t have figured you for a gin drinker. That’s all.”

“And why is that?” I challenged.

“Well, because you’re not an eighty-year-old man, or a hipster living in Brooklyn. Besides, I’ve barely seen you tilt a glass of anything since I’ve been around you, let alone gin.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m quite the gin connoisseur,” I said, putting on my best poker face as I poured.

“Really?” Scooby asked, clearly not buying my act. “Please educate me. What are we drinking tonight?”

“I’m glad you asked,” I said, stalling as I quickly scanned the label. “For this evening’s selection, we have a fine bottle of Cow Run gin,” I said. “It’s from the...uh, the Scottish Highlands.”

“I see,” Scooby said, nodding before knocking back the contents of the glass in a single shot. “Jesus,” he rasped. “This is fucking rocket fuel.”

“I suppose you simply don’t have the sophisticated palate needed to enjoy fine gin,” I replied before taking a larger than normal sip from my glass.

Scooby was right of course. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and almost never drank hard alcohol and this was most certainly hard alcohol. I choked and coughed so hard, I half expected flames to shoot from my mouth like a dragon.

“You okay?” Scooby asked.

I nodded and waved.

“Hold on,” he said, going to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. “Here you go.”

I managed to get down a couple of gulps of water as Scooby read the label on the gin bottle.

“Holy shit. No wonder this stuff feels like drinking nitroglycerine. It’s one-hundred and eight proof.”

“Is that a lot?” I asked, my throat still on fire.

“Yeah, baby,” he said with a smile. “And I think it’s pronounced Ka-roon.”

“You think you know more than me about gin?” I rasped, trying my best to keep up the ruse.

“No, but it says right here on the bottle how to pronounce it. See?” He said, pointing to the label which read Caoronn. Just below it was printed {Ka-roon}.

“Good,” I replied. “I was testing you and you passed.”

“We should celebrate,” Scooby said. “How ’bout another round of this fine gin?”

“I think I’d rather shove a handful of flaming juniper berries straight into my mouth,” I said.

“So, you’re not a gin expert I take it?”

“Okay, I admit it, this bottle was a gift from Clarence. It’s been unopened in my cupboard for four years.”

Scooby laughed. “Alright then,” he said, his tone turning somber. “I’ll pour one for me and one for my brother.” He poured two drinks and raised his glass high. “To Scrappy. I miss you, brother,” he said before shooting back both drinks.

“What was he like?” I asked.

“He was funny. Smart as hell. Smarter than me, anyway. He was a fighter too. A real scrapper. That’s how he got his name. We started hanging around the Howlers when I was sixteen and my brother was fourteen. Needles kind of took us under his wing and started calling Otis Scrappy because he got into at least one fight a week. Since I was his older brother, Needles naturally started calling me Scooby and that was that. Soon, my brother and I were both club recruits and the names stuck.”

“Did the two of you fight a lot as kids?”

“All the time. Always together, side-by-side. Never with each other,” he said pouring another drink. “Except on the night he died.”

“What happened?”

“Wrath and Jeykll went on an unsanctioned run and my little brother decided to join them,” Scooby said, staring into his glass. “While they were out, Scrappy was murdered.”

“By whom and why?”

“Wrath, Jeykll and Scrappy were in the process of rescuing a group of kids from a Kings safehouse. Kids who were scheduled to be sold. Scrappy was outside standing guard when a member of the 719 Kings named Li’L Frisco snuck up on him and cut his throat.”

“Oh, my god,” I said, tears welling up. “He was trying to save kids from a gang?”

“They didn’t just try. They succeeded and I’m proud as hell of my brother for doing that, but those kids went home that night, and my brother didn’t.”

“And you blame Jeykll and Wrath for his death?”

“I blame myself for not being there,” he snapped. “For not having my brother’s back. But yes, I’m pissed at Wrath and Jekyll for bringing him along, and not telling Sundance what was going on. And I’m pissed at Scrappy for going without me. Hell, Twinkles, I’m angry at the whole fucking world for what happened to my brother. But when I find him, Li’L Frisco will be the one who’ll pay.”

“I know you don’t like the police, but if you know who killed your brother, why can’t you go to them? If you think they won’t listen, you could call in with an anonymous tip or something.”

“Remember I told you that Sherriff Sanders was dirty?”

I nodded.

“He’s in the Kings’ pocket.”

“He knew about the kids?”

“I don’t know for sure, but Sanders and others within Monument PD are definitely on the Kings’ payroll. Besides, even if they weren’t on the take, you think the cops would give two shits about a dead biker?”

“So, what’s your plan? Drink yourself into an anger-fueled oblivion until the day you cross paths with Li’L Frisco? Then what? A duel at high noon outside the saloon?”

“Something like that,” he replied.

I sighed. “Do you have any other family around?”

“My mother.”

“Are you close?”

“Yeah.”

I bit back tears. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?”

I shook my head. I filled him in on my parents and grandmother, ending with Clarence and the purchase of the diner. “I choose my family now.”

“I’m really sorry you’ve had to deal with all that, honey,” he said.

“I have a really great life, Scooby. And, yes, it’s sad that they’re gone, but it’s not something I can control.”

“You have help getting to that place?”

I let out a quiet snort. “Years and years and years of help,” I admitted.

“You got friends?”

“Yep.”

“I just haven’t seen them around,” he said.

“Yes, you have. You’ve met them,” I countered. “Dusty and Monty.”

“Any friends who don’t work for you?”

“Murphy.”

“Who’s Murphy?”

“He owns the convenience store two doors down.”

He sighed. “Anyone who isn’t thirty years older than you, or works for you?”

I shrugged sheepishly.

“Right,” he said. “We need to expand your circle.”

“Expand my circle, how?”

“I think it would be great if you met a couple of the club women. Sierra and Violet would be a good start.”

I shook my head, waving my hands in the air. “No, I’m good. I don’t do well with women my own age. I really don’t need that level of stress.”

“Well, that’s one thing you’ll need to figure out because our women are tight, and they need to be.”

I swallowed. “I can’t.”

“Baby, what the fuck happened to you? You stood up to me, face-to-face in front of my brothers, but the thought of meeting a group of women makes you look like you might pass out. This doesn’t track.”

“Girls are mean. And I was the sad girl whose mom died in middle school, so I was kind of ostracized anyway, but then I moved in with my grandmother, so I went to a different high school than planned, and the girls just got meaner.”

“The pretty girls are always picked on,” Scooby said.

“I was not pretty, and I’m not saying that to get sympathy. I really wasn’t. I had braces and was short and a little on the plump side, which really meant boobs and a butt. I was growing out of the worst haircut... think accidental mullet on curly hair, and I had been sheltered so I had no idea how to navigate the politics of high school and stay out of the way of mean girls. If someone was mean to me, I was mouthy back. I rose to every occasion in the worst of ways, and it was used against me at all costs. I did not endear myself to anyone because I decided I didn’t need friends,” I admitted. “In the end, I tried to keep my head down, get straight A’s and make it through school. I figured, once I got into nursing, things would be better.”

“Were they?”

I chuckled without mirth. “Nope.” I pointed to my lips. “I still have a mouth problem.”

He smiled. “I happen to like that mouth.”

“Well, when my supervisor blamed me for not counting the sponges correctly, which meant the doctor left one in a patient, despite the fact I wasn’t even in the fucking surgery in the first place. She was. She didn’t particularly like my mouth when I let her have it, or when I quit.”

“Wait, she blamed you?”

“Yep. The hospital had to pay out close to two million in damages.”

“Did the doctor back you up?”

“The doctor never knew us apart,” I said. “Seriously, he got all our names wrong so often, we had to hold our badges up to his face as we approached him just so he’d have some sort of recognition. He had no idea who was in surgery with him at any given time, so it was easy for her to blame me. At least for a little while. In the end, the administrator went back to the video footage and found proof she was lying but I was already gone.”

“Cunt.”

I shook my head. “She was a bi-atch, not the other word. There was nothing warm or deep about her.”

Scooby laughed. “Jesus, for a girl who doesn’t swear much, when you do, you sure make it count.”

“Just speaking the truth.” I ran my hand down Lord’s back. “I found my bliss caring for the elderly, though, so it all worked out.”

“Where’s the bitch now?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know, but I do care,” I said. “I hope she had to move back in with her toxic mother and was forced to work the night shift at the morgue in the shittiest hospital in the worst county.”

“Jesus, you’re right.”

“About what?”

“Girls are mean.”

“I don’t normally wish ill on people, even if I don’t like them but besides trying to blame me for her multiple infractions, she was outwardly snotty to the lower income families who came in for care. I would just like her to know what it’s like to be one of them, living hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck, never knowing if you had to make the choice to pay for insulin or heat.”

“You’ve given this a little bit of thought.”

“A lotta bit.” I sighed. “I’m not gonna lie, I can be vindictive.”

“Can’t we all,” he murmured.

“As you can see, I have some issues.”

“Baby, we all have fuckin’ issues. It’s called bein’ an adult. If you manage to get past eighteen without some kind of emotional scar, you’ve been livin’ in a fantasy world,” he said.

“True.”

He smiled gently. “You gonna give this a chance?”

“I think I need to think a little more on it.”

“I get that.”

“Are you still going to stay?” I asked.

“On your sofa, yes. In your bed, no.”

I bit my lip and nodded, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Stop,” he warned.

I let out a frustrated groan. “Sorry. I have never been good at hiding my thoughts.”

“I already know that.” He stood before leaning down to kiss my cheek. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door on the right.”

After letting Lord out once more, I settled him in his crate, then climbed into bed... alone. Knowing Scooby was so close, however, made sleep virtually impossible.