Ginny flashed Amber a welcoming grin as she came through The Lantern’s tinkling front door. The smile faltered at the worried look on her friend’s face. Wiping her hands on a towel, she skirted around the bar to intercept her for a hug. Pulling her into quiet booth she said,
“Talk to me.”
“I just talked to Bowie and they are auditing the books at Handlebars and Hot Rods.”
“Okay,” she said, waiting to see where the other woman was going.
“This isn’t your average luck of the draw. They’re digging. We don’t have anything to worry about, but I thought you should know.”
“That this is another shot at the club because of Kramer’s play on Zeke,” Ginny finished.
Amber nodded, worrying her bottom lip. Ginny gave her hand a squeeze.
“We’ll get through it the same as we always do. Like you said, Handlebars and Hot Rods has nothing to worry about. I know how you keep records. The books over there probably squeak they are so clean,” she said with a reassuring smile.
Scribbling down a lunch order for the guys at the shop, Ginny hurried into the back. Passing the order off to Kat, she wiggled her cell phone at her and stepped out the back door for a quick smoke and a phone call.
Zeke rolled his cigar around the rim of the ashtray. Deep lines furrowed his somber features, his gaze faraway as he waited for Bowie to close up the shop and join him for a drink at The Lantern. Despite Ginny’s call, he had stayed clear of the shop today, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that this fiasco would ultimately track back to Kramer. Zeke ground his teeth. The rat bastard was probing, looking for weak links. He wouldn’t find weakness among the Lords.
Not for the first time Zeke mulled over a possible connection between Jimmy’s death and Kramer. As always, a fatal flaw in his theory nagged him. If there had been a chink in Zeke’s armor, it had been Jimmy. A partner knew things even a spouse didn’t. Why kill your best shot? Unless, Jimmy had agreed to cooperate, got cold feet, and Kramer had taken him out in a fit of frustration and rage. Zeke puffed on his cigar, the possible explanation chasing around in his mind. Kramer had always been wound a little tight.
“I spent all damn day waiting for the sawed off bastard to tell me to turn my head and cough,” Bowie muttered as he straddled a bar stool. “I’ve had less invasive prostate exams.”
Zeke snorted.
“Did you get a clean bill of health?”
“My sphincter and the shops books are clean as a whistle,” Bowie said wryly, taking a long pull on his longneck. He continued at Zeke’s chuckle. “I have to ask you, brother. What in the hell did you do to this whack job at the academy? He already took your badge. It is bordering on neurotic to follow you into retirement.”
“Bordering?”
Bowie ignored the dry retort and waited. Zeke’s shrug was as noncommittal, suggesting he might be waiting awhile for this answer. He waited. Savagely stubbing out his cigar, Zeke’s tone dripped with derision when he did answer.
“He was a cocky, college kid that reminded me of every green officer they shipped from Quantico to the sandbox. He came from money and had never had to work for anything. From the start he was willing to tell the rest of us how to do the job, but didn’t have the knowhow or the balls to do it himself. He was born to be a rat.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“Simply put, I made his life a living hell,” Zeke said, eyes narrowing defensively. “I took every opportunity to best or humiliate him, to show him that I was every bit as good as he was, if not better.”
Bowie twisted his beer bottle, Zeke’s words turning over in his head. The chip on Zeke’s shoulder wasn’t new. Even in elementary, he had felt the need to prove himself as good as other kids. An only child of a single mother, he hadn’t had it easy. His mother had waitressed at The Lantern, cleaning houses and taking in laundry in her off hours just to make ends meet. The town’s people had learned in a hurry not to question his paternity. The byproduct of rape, Zeke had considered his mother a saint for even having him. By his early teens his brawling skills had been sufficient to silence any who dared disagree.
“Be careful the toes you step on today as they may be connected to the ass you have to kiss tomorrow,” he said softly.
“Yeah, I get it. The little bastard is in a position to make my life hell now, but I’m not about to kiss his ass.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you kiss his ass, Bro, just trying to get the story.”
“He can’t pin shit on me so he’s taking shots at my family, hoping something will stick.”
“The books are good. He’s wasting his time.”
“And ours,” Zeke muttered.
“True, but eventually the rat will get tired of chasing his own tail and crawl back in his hole. I think you retiring only baited him, made him think he was getting too close to something. Sooner or later a new case will come up that demands his attention and he will move on.”
“It best be sooner rather than later. I’m getting hemorrhoids from all this attention.”
The smell of garlic assailed him as soon as Zeke stepped into the kitchen. Hanging his keys on the hook, he stepped over to lift the lid on the large skillet. Brown rice, onion, diced chicken breast and, of course, large quantities of minced garlic made his mouth water. A peek in the other pot revealed fresh green beans and bacon.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Ginny called from the dining room.
He jumped like a kid caught in the cookie jar making her laugh.
“Jesus, woman, trying to give your old man a heart attack,” he grumbled.
“Nah, I’d hate to damage your ticker. I enjoy our cardio too much,” she said, nudging him out of the way to put a sheet of dinner rolls in the oven. Setting the timer, she hoisted herself up to sit on the counter. “What did Bowie have to say?”
Zeke shrugged, leaning back against the island and rubbing hands over his weary features.
“The books were clean. He was annoyed as expected, but he was decent about it.”
“Did you expect him to be an ass? This isn’t your fault, Zeke.”
“Kramer wouldn’t have come to Trinity Falls if he wasn’t trying to bust my balls, and don’t tell me the bullshit with the health inspector at The Lantern and today’s dog and pony show doesn’t track right back to Kramer’s desk.”
“Granted, however, you have no control over what that demented dweeb does. Truthfully, if he keeps this shit up we should look into our rights under the harassment laws. It has gone on long enough with little more than his creepy obsession with you to warrant it.”
Zeke nodded, the worry lines still rippling his forehead like a Shar-pei puppy. Knowing her husband’s protective streak, Ginny knew nothing she said would make his mind stop churning. Slipping down off the counter, she leaned in to give him a quick kiss.
“Let our boys know dinner is ready and I will get it on the table. I made a cherry cobbler for dessert and we have vanilla ice-cream to go with it.”
Straightening, Zeke stole another kiss and gave her ass a pat before leaving the kitchen. Watching after him, Ginny nibbled her bottom lip. This shit was weighing heavy on him. She had to find some way to balance the load he was carrying and make her husband understand everything didn’t fall on his shoulders. They would make it through this rough patch together, as a family, as a club. Until then, she would make sure her and the boys did what they could to make life at home as relaxing and stress-free as possible for Zeke.
Smoke lingered over Trinity’s historic downtown casting a solemn pall. Ginny rubbed her arms, shivering in the early morning chill. The arid stench stabbed at long buried memories, turning her stomach. She flinched at a light touch on her arm. She stared blankly at the town librarian, hearing the words of comfort the woman offered, yet her mind was incapable of formatting the appropriate response. Her gaze darted to Zeke’s broad back where he stood speaking with the Fire Marshal. Even that was eerily familiar. So much for keeping his life relaxing and stress free. She should have known better. It hadn’t been that since the night she had showed up on his doorstep.
The roar of bikes was a welcome balm to her frazzled nerves. Pulled into Bowie’s engulfing embrace, Ginny clung to his strength for a long moment before freeing him to join Zeke. Kat barely let Crux stop the bike before jumping off and rushing to Ginny. Removing her helmet, she raked fingers through the tangles of her long, dark hair, staring at the smoldering remains of The Lantern in disbelief.
“Do they know what started it?” she finally whispered.
Ginny shook her head; the lump wedged in her throat preventing words. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids, threatening her normal composure. She waved a trembling hand at the rubble before pulling it back to cover her mouth.
“Your job…our income…Christ, Zeke just retired…” her voice broke and she dropped her head, shaking it slowly.
Kat wrapped her arms around her best friend, struggling for words that would comfort her and feeling woefully inadequate as she came up empty.
“The restaurant is insured. We’ll rebuild just the way you want it. This time you can move the damn kitchen door so we don’t run into one another behind the bar.” She offered lamely.
Ginny snorted softly thinking of all the times they had pirouetted around one another with food and drinks in their hands, and hugged her friend tighter.
“Come on. Let’s get some coffee made.”
At Ginny’s helpless gesture towards the ruins, Kat gently turned her away. Pausing beside the gathered Lords, she borrowed Crux’s keys and led Ginny down the block to the clubhouse.
The historic brick building had been Trinity Fall’s first bank, long before the age of floor to ceiling glass, the drive-thru, or ATMs. Abandoned for years, the Lords had bought it at city auction for little to nothing. It had been the women who had decided to restore the old woodwork, reviving the charm, and add a few creature comforts to the men’s domain. All grumbling aside, no one was missing the folding chairs and crates that had been replaced with overstuffed leather sofas, chairs, and sturdy wooden tables. The women had even managed to sneak in a tasteful throw rug or two.
Flipping on lights, Kat lead Ginny through to the kitchen, pushing her down into a chair while she started the big percolator. The main floor held the Lord’s inner sanctuary, the kitchen, and the lounge area which included bar, air hockey, foos-ball and pool tables, dart boards, video games, big screen TV, and all the electronic toys a man could ask for. The second story offices had been converted to sleeping quarters in the event of anything from marital spat to a blizzard, and any alcohol related emergencies in-between. While the basement, which opened onto the river behind the building, housed the larger parties.
Inventorying the refrigerator while she waited on coffee, Kat kept an eye on her silent friend, who sat idly rubbing warmth into her arms, her stare blank. Pulling a couple coffee cakes out of the freezer Kat set them to thaw. Pulling off her jacket, she stepped over and wrapped it around Ginny’s shoulders. She didn’t protest the pampering, huddling into the body-warmed leather with a slight smile of thanks.
When the coffee was ready, Kat doctored it up with sugar and cream the way Ginny liked it, and set the cup in front of her.
“Drink this. It will warm you up,” she urged.
“Thanks, Kat.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, honey. I just wish I could do more. Usually I can at least offer to help hide the body or something. This not being able to do anything for you sucks.”
Her teasing words drew a genuine grin.
“It’s okay. We’ll get through it like everything else. I’m just worried about Zeke. He is already so stressed with everything that has been going on. You know how he is. He takes everything on his shoulders, doesn’t let anyone help.”
“Hmmm where have I seen that before?” Kat mused tapping her lip.
“Smart-ass.”
Both women looked up as the men came in. Ginny stood, stepping into the comfort of Zeke’s arms. Relieved to turn Ginny’s care over to him, Kat started filling coffee cups.
“It’s going to be okay, baby.”
“What did the Fire Marshall say? Was it intentional?”
“It was arson. The cops are still questioning Sambo,” Reaper said with an evil chuckle.
“That’s not funny!” Ginny snapped, hazel eyes blazing.
Reaper threw up his arms in mock defense and laughed, but moved away at a frown and dismissing head jerk from Zeke.
Turning his wife back to his chest, Zeke stroked her hair.
“Reaper’s just fucking with you, baby. Everyone knows Sambo wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Who did?”
The wounded quaver in Ginny’s voice knifed straight to his heart, wrapping the specter of the past more firmly about them.
He swung the bar’s back door open, the raucous laughter and loud music pouring into the night. A thin sliver of light fell on the young woman huddled beside the dumpster. Rain plastered her chestnut locks against her skull and ran in rivulets down the gully of her cleavage. He paused, his hooded, blue eyes scanning the shadows warily before he squatted down beside the shivering beauty. Her hands trembled as she tried to light a cigarette, the lighter casting her battered features in an eerie glow. Jaw set, fury resonated in his sonorous baritone, her name an open question on his lips.
“Ginny?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to hold it together. “He will kill me if I go back there.”
The resignation in her hazel eyes spoke even louder than the fear and Zeke nodded grimly, gathering her in his arms. He stood easily. Bowie met him at the door, but one look from Zeke and the towering redhead stepped aside. Ginny burrowed self-consciously into his neck, hiding from the sharp emerald gaze.
“Need anything, bro?” Bowie asked, confusion and a little concern evident.
“I got it handled for now, but if anyone asks, she’s not here,” he said, taking the steps two at a time.