Jaded: (Beautiful Biker MC Romance Series), page 19
“Huh?”
“Got no intention of you being in any position where they might get their hands on you to quiz you about anything including the locations of our safe houses. You don’t need it. I called before loading up and told Deke I wasn’t making you put that thing on your face again. You don’t need more shit stressing you out right now.”
When I phoned Deke back to let him know about the blindfold, his tune had changed. He offered, “If you’re makin’ her your woman, everyone’ll have to learn to deal so you come back when you’re ready and I’ll take your back with the old ladies if their men don’t lay down the law.”
I neither confirmed nor denied I was making her mine, but told him she’d probably want some time with her grief so unless my presence was needed there, I wanted to keep her at the cabin a few days longer, give her some space to grieve. He was cool with that.
Her reaction to my news she didn’t need a blindfold was to quickly put it on anyway.
“G?” I called out.
I couldn’t see her eyes, of course, but I still knew she was frowning.
“I’d rather wear it,” she told me.
I stared at her. She stayed stock still.
“Baby…”
“Please, Jesse. Don’t,” her voice trembled.
“Don’t what?” I asked softly, putting my hand on her leg.
She choked up, shook her head, and didn’t answer me.
“Got somethin’ to say to me? Say it. Don’t hold back.”
“I’ll just leave it on for ten or fifteen minutes and you tell me then to take it off, okay?” She sniffled.
“If you’re sure. If it makes you feel better… but they won’t get their fuckin’ hands on you. I prom-”
“I’m sure.” She reached until she found the stereo knobs and turned the radio on loud. It was between stations, so she fiddled until settling on something, then she reclined in her seat.
It was some pop music and I’d normally turn it off. It was the kind of shit music the girls dance to at Ma’s bar. And the same shit they play at Deke’s Roadhouse on Saturday nights when members’ women hang out and dance together, their men watching. Nobody really likes most of it, but they’ll suffer through it to watch the girls dance.
I mind. I’ve suffered through too much of it as a bouncer, but there with Gigi, I didn’t utter a word of complaint.
Three songs later, I could take no more of the noise and switched it off.
“You can take that off, G.”
She did, tucking her long braid into her sweatshirt, baseball cap on top and sunglasses on her face. I figured it was so she wouldn’t be so easily recognized once we were within the Sioux Falls city limits.
The next hour was quiet, her eyes pointed out the window.
“Clubhouse first, then we’ll go see your aunt,” I’d said just before we pulled into the gates.
“Okay,” she whispered, acting nervous.
“You all right?”
She shrugged and I let it go. But it seemed like she was shrinking into her seat the minute we were in Sioux Falls.
Now, I found myself waiting in the front foyer alone for her after conversations with Rudy and Edge about getting an escort to the police station and probably a funeral home before they’d follow us to the aunt’s.
Delia came toward me. “She’s just in the bathroom. I wanna talk to you though.”
“All right,” I answered.
“My old man said you only need one room. She’s safe here if she’s in her own room. She can even bunk with Shanty, who said she’d be there for her tonight.”
“She’s with me,” I replied.
“She don’t need a bodyguard tonight, Jesse. She’s safe here.”
“I know.”
“Okay, then… you making her yours or are you just showin’ support?” Delia asked looking straight into my eyes.
“It’s early days,” I replied.
“And what’s your gut say? I know bikers like you, Handsome, and bikers like you know in their gut early on whether a woman’s gonna ride their dick and their bike or just the dick.”
“Ah. You think I’m an open book?”
“Not sayin’ that exactly, but I think I got you mostly figured out.”
I chuckled. “Her bein’ mine is the direction it’s headin’ in.”
She smiled brightly at me. “You being serious or paying me lip service?”
“I don’t pay lip service to anybody, Delia.”
“That’s what I heard about you, and I hope it’s true. Enough bullshitters around these days.”
I said nothing as she continued to size me up.
“Good. Good, good,” she finally declared and then hugged me as her voice dropped low. “She’s a great girl. Got overlooked early on because of some shit with a member in the beginning who was an utter asshole about her. I’m glad to see you haven’t let gossip deter you.”
I didn’t ask questions. I wasn’t interested in hearing any gossip. And I wouldn’t typically respond to this kind of shit but because it was Delia, I looked her in the eyes and said, “My mother used to be a dancer. A stripper.”
Her eyes went soft, and she tapped my cheek. “So you know what it’s like for a girl to get labelled with a reputation she didn’t necessarily earn.”
When I didn’t bother to answer that, she smiled knowingly and patted my arm. “She’s a sweet girl. Been through a lot. But I don’t think she knows you’re more than her bodyguard.”
“Excuse the language, Delia, but we’ve been fuckin’ like farm animals in spring since we got to Deke’s cabin until the bad news came yesterday.”
“Even still… a girl like that? All she’s been through, she might not be able to wrap her mind around much right now what with her grief and all, but you might have to have a conversation if your actions don’t speak loud enough for her as she heals from this.”
She gave me a long look.
When I didn’t speak, she added, “Not that I’m one to give relationship advice.”
“Oh yeah? From what I hear, that’s one of your favorite things to do.”
She gave me a sheepish grin. “Bikers gossip more than women.”
A smile tugged at my mouth.
“So, yeah, Jesse, that’s fair. Up to you if you take my advice or no, but just gonna say, when people listen to me, things tend to go well for them.” She winked and patted my face again. “She might need you to be crystal clear on where you stand. When you’re ready. If that’s the place your head ‘n heart get to.”
Gigi was heading in our direction from the ladies’ room, putting her sunglasses on over swollen eyes.
“How you doin’?” I asked, putting my arms around her and dropping a kiss on her mouth while holding onto her long braid.
She shrugged.
I lifted her glasses up onto the crown of her head so I could look her in the eyes, then I took her face into my hands. “I’m here,” I said, “Whatever you need.”
She frowned. “I… I… thanks.” She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes.
Letting go of her face, I took her hand and led her to my truck, opening the passenger door for her. “Ridin’ with us?” I called over my shoulder to Delia, who stood where we left her, wearing a big grin.
“No way, never when my man’s got a space with my name on it.” She gestured to the three Harleys where Rudy, Edge, and Rash, one of the Sioux Falls prospects, also Bront’s cousin, stood.
I jerked my chin at the guys. Helmets were put on heads and then we all rolled out.
“How you doin’, really?” I asked.
Gigi was staring out the window, chewing her lip. “Hm?”
“Delia likes you,” I said instead.
“Yeah. She’s always been awesome to me.” She looked stressed out. She was nibbling on her nails.
“What’s goin’ through your mind right now?” I asked. “Can I do anything to help?”
She shook her head, gaze fixed out the window, so I did something I didn’t normally do. I let it go. Since spending time with Gianna Grace Jones, I’ve found myself doing a lot of shit I don’t normally do.
I was about to get out of the truck at the police station, but she grabbed my leg. “I’ll just get Delia to come in with me, okay?”
I cocked my head, about to ask questions when she spoke fast. “I’m safe in there, you won’t have to protect me from any bad guys in the cop shop, so just chill here while I go deal, okay?”
“I can-”
“Please. I’ve cried in front of you more than enough already. You don’t need to see me fall apart again.”
“Gigi.” I grabbed her hand and held it.
She squeezed. “Please Jesse. Just… I’ll be back. Not tryin’ to seem ungrateful or anything with all you’ve been doin’ for me, but can I ask you to just stay here? Pretty please?”
I moistened my lips as I processed what she was saying.
“Thanks,” she said and instead of giving me a chance to speak, let go of my hand, looping her bag over her shoulder and hurrying out of the truck.
Delia was already off Rudy’s bike, passing her man her helmet. She linked arms with Gigi to go inside.
Rudy approached my truck, so I stepped out.
“Tricky business, that…” he observed, gesturing with his chin toward the cop station.
“Tricky?”
“Supporting someone grieving the loss of someone who was hurtin’ the club.”
“Yeah.”
He scratched his jaw. “What’s your gut tell you about this thing with them?”
“With Gianna and her stepsister? Sometimes loyalty doesn’t die when it should. I think she shoulda walked away a long time ago; the stepsister sounded like a lost cause, but this girl didn’t give up when she should’ve.”
“Mm. So, my missus wants to pass the helmet, take up a collection. I suspect it’ll be mostly me and Deke ponying up for that funeral given what Kailey Jepson was part of, but my missus gets it in her head to take on a cause and she’s not easily dissuaded.”
I took in what he was saying. Delia was taking up a collection for a funeral for Kailey. And Rudy was probably right - whether Gigi was well-liked in the club or not… Kailey wasn’t, and most brothers would either stick their nose up and ignore it or put in just a pittance instead of reaching deep into their pockets. Some of the brothers would put some money forward for any cause related to the club but this was a tricky situation. And my understanding was that the fact that Rudy was calling it ‘passing the helmet’ meant it was a club ask, which held more weight than a typical donation jar sitting out on the bar.
“Haven’t gotten a lot of information but so far from what Gianna has said, there’s no real family except for that aunt of hers.”
“Yeah,” Rudy put in, “Kailey wasn’t her blood. Just Gia’s. Kailey had nobody else by the sounds of it. You’re headin’ there from here, I take it. To the aunt’s?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I’ll have two tail you. Me and Cordelia will head home after this. Gotta meet with the lawyers for my boy. You need anything, let us know. All right? Church at eight. Guests in from other clubs. Patchin’ in Aberdeen and Rapid City by phone.”
“I’ll be there. Thanks, Rudy.”
“Throwin’ a couple drinks back after church. Playin’ some cards. Hit an ATM if you wanna play. Headin’ over there for some coffee ‘n donuts. What’re you havin’?” He gestured to the coffee shop beside the cop station.
“I’m good for now. And sounds good. I’ll see how she’s doin’ after church and decide from there how much money I’ll take from everyone.”
He laughed and slapped my back. “Yeah, people are still bitchin’ about the losses of that last game.”
I snickered. Poker was something I’ve always been good at. Good at reading people. And most guys are even easier to read after they’ve thrown back a few drinks, which is par for the course in a Brotherhood poker game. I drink soda water while I play. I save the alcohol for after I take peoples’ cash and then I drink top shelf shit to celebrate.
Twenty minutes later, two more bikes pulled in. These were our escorts to Gigi’s aunt’s as Edge, Rudy, and Rash were heading back to Rudy’s from there.
***
We pulled up to a nearly new single-wide in a mobile home park. An old minivan sat in the driveway. The streets were narrow; all was quiet.
“Can you guys wait by the gates while I do this?” she asked me.
“No, baby. If the Wyld Jackals knew anything about Kailey’s past they might know she’s lived with your aunt. There could be eyes on this place. Axel and Dave’ll park behind my truck, but I’m comin’ in.”
She had no reply to that other than chewing her thumbnail.
The street looked clean, well looked after mobile homes, but the homes were too close together for my liking. No privacy whatsoever. We walked up the deck steps and she knocked on the door to the place as I surveyed the street, looking for any drapes moving or other signs of any eyes on us, knowing Axel and Dave had us covered as well.
She stood on the antithesis of a welcome mat. The straw mat read, “Go Away” in heavy black lettering with a middle finger logo in the center of it.
“Charming,” I remarked.
Her eyes hit the mat. “Yeah. A preview of things to come. This is probably gonna be ugly.”
I shrugged off the warning, standing behind her, eyes tracking the space around us. Nothing was happening and nobody seemed to be around other than a man across the road doing work in his flowerbeds. He gave us a curious look and then went back to what he was doing.
“Real ugly,” she added.
“Wasn’t expecting it to go well, considering the news you’re bringing.”
She sighed. “Probably better if you wait outside,” she said.
“Not happening,” I said. “I’ve got you.” I gave her a pointed look.
She hadn’t said much since the cop station. They were in there for about forty-five minutes. She came out pale, Delia’s arms around her. They hugged for a minute outside the door as Delia dabbed G’s cheeks with a Kleenex, speaking what looked like reassuring words to her. I jogged up and when I put my arms around her, she stiffened, trying to buck up but failing before she unnecessarily apologized for how long it took.
And as much as I was trying to be understanding given what she’d been through, I’d had about enough of her trying to put distance between us.
Not much was said inside my truck even after I asked. She wasn’t giving me much at all, trying hard to keep walls up, which was telling. When my gentle questions were met with her turning up the volume on the radio, I finally shut it off and speared her with a dark look, demanding, “Talk to me.”
She muttered she had to ID the body as next of kin; but said she was shown a picture, which was better than having to see Kailey on a slab, though it was obvious she was on a slab in the photograph. She was asked questions. About Kailey, the Jackals, and about us, particularly about Edge. They sent Delia out after finding out she was Edge’s adoptive mother and asked G some questions. And that was it for now.
“Rudy said something about the funeral home. We need to do that after this?”
“No, Delia said she was going to make calls for me back home and arrange a no-frills cremation.”
“Ah.” I said.
She got agitated then but looked like she was trying to hide it.
“That a problem?” I asked.
“She offered to host a memorial at a restaurant her friend owns. But I told her it probably wasn’t necessary since nobody would come.”
“Friends, coworkers? Other girls you guys know from the club?”
She shrugged. “Got stuff to figure out. I’ll think on it.”
I dropped it then. She reached for my radio dial again.
“Yo. Driver controls the radio. You keep forgettin’.” I was going for levity.
She snatched her hand back, saying, “Sorry.”
“I was teasin’. You can control it today, tomorrow maybe. After that, it’s back under my care for the foreseeable.”
She didn’t smile. Didn’t reach for the radio either. So, silence it was.
As we pulled past the gates to the trailer park, after me telling her Axel and Dave needed to stick close, I’d said, “Rudy says Delia is takin’ up a collection for the funeral expenses. People give a shit, baby.”
She dabbed at her cheeks with a Kleenex. “Yeah, she’s one of the few. I don’t want her doin’ that; she’s hard to talk down.”
“I know the type. She reminds me of Ma.”
“I can see that,” she replied, looking out the window.
“Nothin’ wrong with lettin’ folks with good intentions help.”
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“You don’t, but thanks.”
“Actually, I kinda do. But that’s a story for another day. You got another way to pay for the funeral?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“How about you let people help?”
“They hate her.”
“They don’t hate you.”
She knocked on the door to her aunt’s trailer a second time, and finally it was opened by a frail-looking five foot nothing over-sixty bleached blonde, limp long hair and dark mixed with silver roots. She wore a blue velour tracksuit and house slippers, puffing a cigarette with a two-inch ash hanging off the end. The woman’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her niece.
“Oh, it’s you. What do you want? Who’s he?”
Her eyes moved to the two Harleys behind my truck. “They with you?”
“I need to talk to you, Aunt Francie.”
The woman looked her over judgmentally. “You look like shit.”
I bristled. She looked like someone who was grieving. She didn’t look like shit.
“I bet,” Gigi sighed.
“Got shit to do today, girl. Why didn’t you just phone?”
“Aunt Francie…” Gianna whined, exasperation showing, “I need to talk to you. Please.”
The woman sighed exaggeratedly. “Gianna, I don’t got time for you and your usual bullshit. You know better than to come here and bring someone with you without callin’ first.”
