Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi by Karen Renee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

Rather than engage in conversation he clearly didn’t want, I put the crackers on the nightstand and positioned myself so my back was to his chest. He wrapped his warm, strong arms around me just under my breasts so he didn’t hit my stitches, which were lower on my abdomen.

“I hate to tell you this, but you might not see Suzy again today.”

I hid my reaction, but I didn’t like the sound of that. “Why?”

“Nothing bad. Just precautionary, but you’ll say goodbye before she leaves.”

With serious control, I exhaled quiet and slow. “Then why can’t she come back? No. If she can’t come back here, that’s fine, but why can’t I go to her?”

He sighed. “Turk thinks someone is following them.”

“What?”

I felt him shaking his head. “We don’t know for sure, but I don’t ignore gut reactions. If he’s being followed, then they aren’t coming back and you’ll get to visit them at the casino or at Brute’s apartment. My guess, Turk wants to make tracks back to Jacksonville even though your sister doesn’t have to be back until Sunday.”

“That sucks,” I blurted, then shook my head. “Sorry, that slipped. But who could possibly be following them?”

“The detective who’s investigating Layla’s murder, and he’s probably playing a role in the investigation of a meth cookhouse that caught on fire recently.”

I leaned back and tilted my head so I could look at him. “My second location, I presume.”

He failed to keep his side-eye bland. “Didn’t say that.”

I grinned. “You didn’t, but you didn’t have to.”

He bent to put his lips on my neck. “Have I mentioned you have the sexiest neck.”

A curl of warmth spread through my torso. “No, but you didn’t have to,” I murmured on a chuckle.

He pulled away. “I’d love to hang with you all afternoon, but I got to get into my shop. You rest up, and tonight we can meet Turk and Susan somewhere for dinner.”

“Can I come with you to your shop?”

“Baby, I love that you’re interested, but you were stabbed two days ago.”

“So, what? Sitting around watching you beats laying around here watching mindless television.”

He groaned. “Brute was right. My sanity is up for questioning because you’ve got me wrapped around your damn finger. Get some shoes on, Steph.”

HAR’S SHOP WAS CENTRALLY located on Division Street. He had three bikes in the midst of being primed or repainted. His office was small, and narrow to the point I felt trapped. However, his desk chair was soft and comfortable. From his desk, a window looked out to the garage bays. I sat watching him while he tinkered with a bike.

After a few minutes I found myself looking at his messy desk. My curiosity got the better of me, and I read some of his messages. If I understood his notes, he’d referred three people to other shops because he was booked solid. One of the notes indicated the customer called back and was willing to wait for an opening with Har.

Sticking out from the edge of his pile, I noticed a to-do list. At the top of his list was revamp website followed by other administrative tasks.

I left his desk and joined him in the garage. “How many customers do you turn away each week?”

He looked up at me. “How do you know—”

“Your messages have notes where you referred people away.”

“Nosy as usual.”

“Not entirely nosy, more curiosity. If you’re turning away business, you should hire someone.”

He straightened from the bike. “The amount of business I turn away won’t cover someone else’s wages.”

I shook my head. “Even if that person were part-time?”

His head wobbled. “Maybe, but it’s hard to find reliable part-time help.”

“If you offered it up as an apprenticeship or something like that, it might change the types of candidates you get.”

He crossed his arms and gave me an assessing look. “That’s a good idea, but what about you?”

“What about me?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “You sketch and you got talent. Not that hard to learn to paint.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that, and us working together on top of living together... that might go bad quick.”

“Maybe, but you should think about it.”

“You mind if I organize your desk?”

His eyes widened. “Are you kidding? Have at it, babe.”

By the time he was ready to leave, I had sorted his messages and even called two of the three people he referred to other shops. One of them hadn’t pulled the trigger with the competitor and I added him to Har’s wait-list.

When I told him this, his expression froze. “Know you think us working together could go bad, but no shit, Stephie—”

I held up a hand.

“No, no. This is just a sign you need to hire an assistant at a minimum or a part-time painter who could also run admin shit for you.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “And I still think that person is you.”

I refused to beat a dead horse.

“But you’ve got a club with money issues and brothers who would be better at handling this shit than me. Consider one of them first.”

His lips set in a firm line before he clipped out, “Fine. I texted Turk. His gut says he’s being watched, but we can meet them at McElroy’s for dinner before they leave.”

Epilogue Tip for My Dealer

Stephanie

THIRTEEN MONTHS LATER...

Two seats were open at my table. I had laid down the flop for the three players in the hand. A regular who wore his gray hair in a ponytail and guarded his cards with an elaborate custom chip stared at the cards as though willing them to change. The other two players watched him, but one fidgeted with impatience. Finally, the regular shook his head and tapped the table to signal he checked the action. The impatient man shoved his stack forward and I threw out the all-in chip. The third player sighed.

Two men joined the table. It wasn’t until they sat down I realized it was Brute and Har.