Shelter From The Storm (The Bare Bones MC Book 6) (21 page)

“And clean the bathroom,” Kneecap said again. “Good luck on that after Wolf Glaser stuffs himself with barbecue.”

“Pfft,” said Knoxie.

I clung to Ford’s ladder. “But Ford, are the rumors true? Is Fox being invited to patch in?”

“He hasn’t given us an answer yet,” was all Ford would say.

Good gracious, Ignatius!
Fox was on his way to becoming a tried and true blue Bare Boner! I had to absorb that tidbit of information, but Ford was now asking me,

“Is he on his way up? I wonder if he could stop by the Citadel and come up with a fuel truck. Some of our paving equipment out front is low on gas.”

“The roller is completely out,” said Knoxie. “We could send Wolf Glaser down to get the fuel truck.”

“Let me check,” I said, pulling my phone from my apron pocket. “Oops, he says he’s on his way up as of fifteen minutes ago. Should I ask Wolf?”

“Yeah, ask Wolf,” said Ford.

So I went out front where all the paving equipment stood silently. Wolf was supposed to be directing the overlay of the parking lot, but I guess he couldn’t, not without gas. I went around back to the lake side of the motel and sure enough, there was Wolf, shooting arrows at the hay bales we’d set up to amuse ourselves during breaks.

I picked up one of the stick bows hanging from a bow rack and joined Wolf. Stick bows were harder to be accurate with, and I hit the outer ring of the target twenty yards away. “Shit. Wolf, they want you to go to the Citadel and bring back the fuel truck.”

“Ten-four. I’m on it.” Wolf’s tongue stuck out when he aimed with one eye shut. He got a bullseye and hung up his bow. “You know, I’m moving into the Leaves of Grass house with Tracy.”

I sent my last arrow flying into the bale and hung up my bow, too. “What the fuck? Doesn’t Tobias live there too?”

“That’s the problem. But I’ve been living at the Citadel in one of their crappy little rooms that used to be the War Room when the army was there. I’ve got a view of a decrepit runway and a bunch of construction guys peeing in port-a-potties.”

“And some beautiful red rocks,” I reminded him.

“True. I think Tobias might move into Lytton’s, if you guys ever move out.”

He said that very pointedly, and I couldn’t say as I blamed him. Fox and I were just waiting for the other shoe to drop before we made a move. I’d given notice on my little apartment after it was ransacked. I was homeless. “Oh, here’s Fox. We’ll come up with something, Wolf. I promise.”

“I know you will,” Wolf said warmly. “Fox is madly in love with you.”

“What?”

But Wolf only grinned that wide grin at me, so I went to greet Fox as he got off his scoot and removed his lid.

“Hi, darling,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my cheek to his chest. I called him “darling” in a half-joking way sometimes, and sometimes he called me “pussycat.”

He did that now, caressing the back of my head. “Hey, pussycat. Painting your office?” For it would be my office once the motel was open. Randy Blankenship had approved of my new job, maybe mainly because I hadn’t told him it was a cannabusiness.

“I’m done with my part,” I said, taking off my apron and folding it up. “Maddie and Tracy are almost done with the walls. How do you think it went at the bird place?”

Putting his hands on his hips, Fox looked at the distant dry lake bed. “Well, I’d have to say…” Oh boy, he was going to draw this one out. “That I got the job.”

“Oh my God!” I jumped so high Fox was able to catch me, holding me to him with my ass in his hands. I twined my ankles round the back of his knees, hitching my heels in the top of his boots. “Seriously? You’re going to get to work with birds all day long?”

Wolf said, “When he’s not cleaning bathrooms at the Bum Steer.”

Seriously? Was that the only thing people could think about—cleaning bathrooms? But it did remind me of that other matter, and I slid down Fox’s body, serious now. “Yes. What’s going on with that? Everyone except me seems to know that you’re patching into the Bare Bones.”

Again, Fox looked into the distance. He looked stoic and noble this way, and I couldn’t resist brushing my lips against the pit of his throat. I inhaled deeply of his unique pheromones that always set off a chain reaction of lust and arousal in me. “It’s true. They’ve asked me, but I haven’t given them an answer.”

I looked up. Fox still had that faraway look in his eyes, and next to him, Wolf was imitating him. But Wolf couldn’t quite carry off the look. He looked like he was wondering when
Hawaii Five-O
was on. “But you’re seriously considering it.”

He finally looked down at me. “Yes. I think it would be helpful for us. A built-in band of brothers, so to speak.” He clapped Wolf on the shoulder. “Except this guy, I’m not so sure of.”

“Oh, admit it,” said Wolf, “you love me. Hey. They need someone to go to the Citadel and bring back the fuel truck. We should both go on your scoot, so I can drive the truck back and you can ride your scoot back.”

“True,” said Fox, “’cause I sure as hell ain’t riding two up on your bike.” He handed Wolf his lid and kissed me. Although he wrapped an arm around my waist and gripped me to him, his kiss was gentle and soft, full of love. “Be back in an hour,” he murmured.

Then he jumped on his ride, and they were out of there.

I was completely unconcerned. What was there to worry about with a simple fuel truck run? I went and stowed my apron and grabbed a piece of the boob cake. I sat behind my desk inhaling the smell of paint fumes, loving every moment of it. Tracy, June, Emma and Maddie sat on the front desk counter eating the boob cake too, and pretty soon Knoxie, Ford, Faux Pas, and Speed all came in to polish off the dessert. The hungry men decimated the quesadilla and a big sloppy
torta
that someone had put in the kitchen. Speed was the only one who dared try the ceviche.

“So this is gonna be your office,” said Speed, his mouth full of rubbery octopus arms.

“This is me,” I agreed.

As I looked around at the men in various poses of the motel lobby, I understood what Fox had just said. We all
were
a band of brothers in a weird way. Not related by blood, the club ties kept us together. We’d even begun thinking alike. My first reaction to a predicament nowadays was always “What would an old lady do?”

I didn’t think much when Ford looked at his phone and told everyone that Fox had texted. “He saw a few Ochoas heading up this way when he was heading down.”

No one else seemed to think much of it, either. Wolf Glaser would have made it into a big deal, but he wasn’t there.

FOX/PIPPA

I
pulled over onto the dirt shoulder halfway up the mountain to the motel. It was the same spot where I’d talked that cop out of giving Pippa a ticket, ages ago. That had been the best thing I’d ever done in my life. I had a creeping feeling I was about to do the second best thing.

Wolf Glaser pulled the fuel truck over behind my scoot. As he did so, another couple of beaners passed us in their Camaros. That made, all told, about ten potential Ochoas who had passed us since we started from P and E.

We talked on the shoulder. For once, the ever-present wide grin was missing from Wolf’s face. He set his hands on his hips and said thinly, “I know what’s on your mind,
jefe
.” Which was funny, because if I was going to prospect for the Bare Bones, Wolf would be my
jefe
. “They might be finally getting around to retribution for burying their fearless leader.”

“Exactly. Unless you think those were all workers of Lytton’s on their way to Leaves of Grass.”

Wolf replied, “Negatory. Workers of Lytton’s don’t drive Camaros or bikes, for one thing. These guys passing us were all gang members, all baby gangsters and crew bosses with Tweety Bird stickers in their windows. Hyenas who will just as soon turn you into Swiss cheese, and then light a crack pipe. I’m pretty sure the guy driving the purple Challenger was Abel Ochoa, Ruben’s son.”

“You think they’re on their way to Leaves of Grass?”

“That’d make sense if revenge is their game. Maybe they’re going to torch the fields, lay ruin to the grow houses. That’d definitely put us out of the running for Gunhammer’s backing. Not to mention, lose us a shit ton of money.”

“That’s it.” I thumbed Lytton’s number on my phone. “Lytton. Are you at Leaves of Grass? Wolf and I were just passed by at least ten Ochoas on their way up Lake Mary Road. We figure they’re heading for your plantation.”

I waited while Lytton radioed his armed guards to get down to the front gate. Then I said, “You could always call Ford at Smoky Mountain High. He’s got several men working with him there. They could take that Kinnikinick Campground bypass and take the Ochoas by surprise.”

“Or,” said Lytton, practical and suspicious as always, “could it be that Smoky Mountain
is
their target?”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t fucking thought of that. “Fuck me dry. Listen, let me text Ford and jump in the fuel truck. I’m driving it up there from the Citadel. It’s slow as molasses as you know, so in the meantime, you
call
him. I’ve got Wolf riding sweep.”

Lytton didn’t even ask me if we were armed. He probably correctly assumed we were. “Go as fast as you safely can. Maybe you could park behind that big boulder that’s on the right before the motel and pick off a few Ochoas if they’re harassing people.”

“Got it. Call Ford.” I quickly texted Ford two sentences, then paused, wondering if I should text Pippa. Wolf was texting furiously, obviously warning Tracy. I decided time was too valuable. “Wolf, take my Panhead and ride sweep. Not too closely. You want to be able to see what’s up ahead. If they’re heading for the Smoky Mountain, we’ll stop prior to that and assess the situation.”

“I’m on it like a hobo on a ham sandwich.”

I tried to focus solely on the road in front of me. But after about fifteen minutes of driving, texts started coming in fast and furious. I assumed this meant that the Ochoas had shown up at the Smoky Mountain. I just glanced at my phone and saw that most were from Pippa. One from Lytton and one from Ford. The last thing I wanted to do was park the fuel truck sideways, and it had been a long time since I’d driven such a large piece of equipment. I was sure I couldn’t text and drive, so I forced myself to leave them unread.

I narrowed down my focus. At least ten of my friends were working on the motel. Ten Ochoas taking them by surprise while they hung drywall? Easy. Even
if
the Ochoas were on their way to Leaves of Grass, the second they saw all that Illuminati Brothers equipment in the motel parking lot, the Harleys, the cages, they’d know what was up. They could easily change their plans. And no doubt they were armed to the teeth.

I was actually surprised one of them hadn’t pulled over to take out my fuel truck, or to run my Panhead off the road. The truck’s door was clearly labeled with the Illuminati logo. Why had they all passed us by without so much as a glance? Now they’d know we were coming up the hill, and would be expecting us. I approached the motel and the big boulder Lytton suggested we hide behind.

Noisily and creakily, I pulled the giant tanker to the shoulder. I was sure the Ochoas could hear the heavy truck crunching rocks. I leaped out of the door, pointing to Wolf Glaser to follow me behind the boulder. Now we were silent as we padded hunched over around the back side of the giant rock.

Yes.
The Ochoas had surrounded the motel. I counted eight of them ringing the
V
shape of the midcentury motel, all clutching Russian ladies. There had been at least two other beaners, so they must’ve gone around the back where each unit had a little deck area for viewing the nonexistent lake. All of the Bare Bones vehicles were parked off to one side in the grass due to the parking lot overlay job, but the Ochoas had parked on the old parking lot, only half of which was paved and had never been compacted. Ford, Knoxie, Faux Pas, Speed, Kneecap, Gollywow—they were all standing around on verandahs of different units. Some guys held mudding knives or electric drills. I knew some went around armed day and night, but of course they didn’t dare draw their weapons, being surprised at a disadvantage like they were.

“What the fuck,” groused Wolf. “Those are innocent fucking people in there. What kind of arms you got in your saddlebags? Sniper rifle? Chopper or street sweeper?”

“I’ve got the sniper rifle and a SAW,” I said, mentioning the squad auto weapon, a portable light machine gun. “But I’ve got one better. I’ve got a fuel truck.”

A car slowed down to rubberneck at the sight of the ring of thugs surrounding the renovated motel. One of the baby gangsters shot out the rear window, causing the car to speed away toward Leaves of Grass. That was just brilliant, getting a stranger involved, a stranger who was ninety-nine percent likely to alert the cops.

“God damnit,” said Wolf. “They’re showing us they’re willing to kill. Oh fuck, who’s that?”

Abel Ochoa and a few other thugs stomped out of the office. The other guy held a Mexican cleaning woman by the arm, but Abel Ochoa had Madison Illuminati whipping her around like a lariat. Abel shrieked in that high pitched tone of someone upset beyond any logic or reason.