Outcasts MC (Complete Series), page 33
Logan shrugged and got to his feet. “Guess you know better than to come to me for love advice,” he said gruffly. “Let me know if you get anywhere with my project.” He was out of there before I could say anything else. I winced, thinking about going after him, but I knew it wasn’t likely to do any good.
No, better to turn my attention back to the project at hand. I didn’t get anywhere over the whole afternoon, though.
I felt weird dropping by Brittany’s work again, I decided later in the afternoon. I could tell that she and her boss weren’t on the best terms to begin with, so maybe she didn’t care, but the last thing I wanted was for him to see me around there again, decide that she was slacking, and fire her. I could only imagine how pissed she might get at me if I caused her to lose her job. Even if I was sure she didn’t need the work, I didn’t need to give her another reason to want me out of her life as quickly as possible.
So instead, I texted her the name of a restaurant near her work and told her I’d meet her there. She sent back a quick response saying she’d be there, and I took that as a good sign. At least until I got to the restaurant, waited around for ten minutes, and slowly started to realize that she wasn’t actually going to show up.
Fuck. I should have seen this coming. Why would I expect that after all this time, I could just waltz back into her life, asking for favors and trying to get her to go out to dinner with me? I knew exactly what she must be thinking. You couldn’t get tried for the same crime twice, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t cause her any trouble if she was caught around me.
I gave her another few minutes, glancing down at my phone a couple of times to see if she had texted me again to let me know she was running late. Maybe it was something to do with her job. Maybe her boss had come back and wanted to get one last lecture in at the end of her shift.
But there was nothing from her, and she still didn’t show up.
Finally, I shook my head and got up, realizing I was wasting my time. And if I wasn’t going to get her to agree to lend me her computer, I needed all the time I could get to figure out some alternate sort of plan. I headed toward the door, reaching it just about the time that Brittany walked in.
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not going to eat alone,” she said brusquely.
I trailed after her as she headed back toward an empty table. It was a different one than the one the waiter had initially sat me at, but I didn’t say anything. Brittany was still Brittany, all these years later. I hid a smile, watching her.
“So, are we going to catch up or what?” Brittany asked, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest. “What have you been up to?”
“That’s a loaded question,” I said, smiling crookedly over at her. “And anyway, I thought you didn’t want me talking shop. Kind of hard to catch you up on my life without telling you about my work and everything else.”
Brittany rolled her eyes. “Hey, you’re the one who dropped by after a pleasant year of staying the hell out of my business like I asked you.”
I grimaced. This might be harder than I had thought it was going to be. She didn’t seem to want to talk to me at all. But maybe I could get her to warm up to me. “I never did tell you about the job I got after I got out of juvie,” I said conversationally.
“I don’t even know if I want to know,” Brittany said, shaking her head. “You aren’t working for the government now or something, are you? That would be ironic, after they locked you up.”
I laughed. “No, not working for the government,” I told her. “Although that does have to do with the favor I asked you for before.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you borrow my computer,” Brittany said, narrowing her eyes at me.
I held up both my hands. “I know,” I told her. “I’m not asking again. I’m just trying to explain.”
“You’ve got ten minutes,” she said, looking at her watch.
I smirked at her. “You were nearly twenty minutes late,” I pointed out. “I think that means I get half an hour, at least.”
“That’s only fair, I guess,” Brittany allowed like it didn’t matter to her one way or the other.
“I do research,” I told her. It was the truth, sort of. “For a…think tank of sorts.”
“Oh, cut the crap,” Brittany said, rolling her eyes. “If you’re going to try to slick your way back into my good graces, you could at least tell me the truth. We both know there’s no way in hell that you are working for a think tank.”
“You don’t think I’m smart enough?” I asked in surprise.
“Of course it’s not that,” Brittany said exasperatedly. “But you wouldn’t have the patience to sit at a desk all the time, dealing with suits. That, I don’t believe. If someone had sat you at a desk job, I know for sure that you’d have been locked away again by now. You would have done something stupid.”
I snickered. “You’re probably right,” I admitted. “But you wouldn’t believe the truth either, I don’t think.”
“Try me,” Brittany said, and I could see a familiar fire in her eyes. An amusement. She was warming up to me already. Maybe things weren’t so hopeless after all.
“When I was in juvie, I made some connections. Guys who were impressed with what I was able to do,” I began.
Brittany cut me off with a groan. “Don’t tell me: you’re working for some spy agency or something. Don’t you ever learn?”
“Not even close,” I said, shaking my head, unable to keep from grinning over at her. I forgot how much I liked just talking with her. “I’m part of a motorcycle club.”
Brittany stared at me for a long moment and then burst out laughing. “Jesus, of all the things I thought you might say, that was definitely not one of them,” she said, shaking her head. She wiped at her eyes, practically crying with amusement. “Come on, though, cut the crap. Who are you really working for?”
“I’m serious,” I told her. “I have my motorcycle license and everything. Actually, there’s something a lot more satisfying about building a motorcycle than building a computer. A different feel to the power, I guess.”
Brittany continued to just gape at me for a moment. She ran a hand back through her short hair, making it stick up in spiky waves. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re part of a motorcycle club. Of all the things I could have pictured you doing, that definitely never was one of them.”
I shrugged. “They’ve been good to me,” I told her. It was my turn to turn the tables on her. “And I assume the Hole in the Wall has been good to you? Even though you don’t seem to really get along with your boss at all.”
Brittany groaned, “He’s just frustrating.”
“You can be frustrating to work with, too, don’t think that I’ve forgotten,” I teased, and Brittany cracked a smile. Another small win.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” she admitted. She shrugged. “I like working at the place. The other girl that works there, Lacey, is my best friend; she’s great. She’s the only reason I’m still working there, to be honest. And not just because she saves my job on a regular basis.”
I snorted. “Same old Brittany,” I said. “Saving your job—isn’t that the same tactic you used with me when we used to work at the movie theater? Is she punching you in when you’re running late as well?”
Brittany giggled. “As a matter of fact, yeah, she’s been known to do that,” she admitted.
I shook my head. “Well, sounds like nothing’s changed. So I guess that means you’re probably still taking on interesting projects as well, huh?”
“I’d rather hear about your interesting projects,” Brittany said smoothly, turning the tables back around on me. I wasn’t ready to tell her about Representative McCree just yet, though. The longer I could keep her in suspense, the more likely it was that she would continue talking to me. As soon as I handed over that chip, she would have no more reason to stick around.
I wanted to think she wasn’t just biding her time until she felt like she could get up and leave. I wanted to think she was enjoying this just as much as I was. But at the same time, I knew just how much I had hurt her in the past. All bets were off. I didn’t know what she was planning to do.
So instead, I scrambled to think of something else to talk about. “Actually, the most interesting project I’m working on at the moment is this hybrid bike. Hoping to get her running by the summer. I have my eyes on a long road trip out to California. I think it sounds like an excellent way to spend a month or two.”
“A month or two?” Brittany asked incredulously. “Couldn’t you do that drive in less than a week? Or are you talking about a hybrid pedal bicycle or something?”
I laughed. “No, I meant a motorcycle,” I told her. “But I’m talking about taking a really windy way to get there, stopping off at some national parks, that sort of thing. Really seeing the country.” I wondered if she would have any response to that; we had talked so many times about getting the hell out of Massachusetts, striking out together for Seattle or somewhere in between here and there, finding a place where we fit a little better.
We had both always been outcasts, and that was part of what had made us so close.
She didn’t comment on the travel, though. She also didn’t take the unspoken opening to tell me what the hell she was still doing right there in Greenboro, working at a bagel shop. Instead, she just said, “Nice try, but I know that’s not what you need my computer for.”
“I didn’t say it was,” I protested. “You just asked about my interesting projects, and I count that as one of them. Here’s another one: as the club’s primary researcher, I get all the important projects. Like right now, I’m trying to track down this guy who owes us money. All I’ve got to go on is his phone number, and that might not even be an accurate number for him anymore. Trail’s about two months cold, so it could be a little tricky. I’m going to have to work to track him down.”
“Also not the reason that you need my computer,” Brittany surmised. “What does the guy owe you money for anyway? You collect some information for him or something?”
“Nah, the only people I collect information for is the club these days,” I told her, shaking my head.
“So drugs, then,” Brittany said flatly.
I rolled my eyes. “Just because I’m involved in an MC, it doesn’t mean that I’m up to anything like that,” I told her.
“Well, sorry, I just don’t know what an ‘MC’ does,” Brittany said, shrugging. “Other than the obvious of, you know, riding around on motorcycles and beating people up.” She peered over at me. “I just can’t picture you beating anyone up, though. You definitely look less scrawny than you used to back in school, but I saw you in gym class once upon a time. I know exactly what you’re capable of. And what you’re not.”
I put a hand over my heart, pretending I was in pain. “You wound me,” I told her. “For all you know, I’ve taken professional boxing courses since you last saw me.”
“Have you?” Brittany asked.
I shrugged, grinning at her. “Of course not,” I said. “I’ve still never had to beat anyone up. There are other guys in the club for that.” I paused, wondering how much to tell her. But most of what we did was at least mostly aboveboard. And anyway, it wasn’t like the sheriff didn’t know about it. “Our main job is protection,” I finally said. “Someone has a problem, maybe they think someone is after them but they don’t have enough proof to go to the police, that sort of thing. Then they come to us, and we make sure nothing happens to them.”
Brittany’s brows furrowed. “So you’re, like, private security.”
“Sort of,” I said, not elaborating on that “sort of.” Private security companies, at least the legitimate ones, generally didn’t kill the guys who came after their clients. Not that we did that very often, but it had been known to happen before.
Brittany seemed to realize that there was a limit to what I could tell her. She nodded. “I guess all I can say is that I’d love to see you on a motorcycle sometime.” She paused. “You didn’t ride one here tonight, did you?”
I leered at her. “Why, you think it’s sexy?” I asked her, unable to help myself.
She snorted. “Not even,” she said. “I just really meant it when I said that I couldn’t picture you on a motorcycle. Seeing is believing.”
I laughed. “Fair enough,” I said. “I guess you’ll just have to see me another time, though, because I didn’t ride the bike here tonight. We were close enough that I could just walk.”
Was that a flicker of disappointment on Brittany’s face? If it was, it was gone before I could tell.
We were finished with dinner by this point, and I grabbed the bill when the waiter brought it. Brittany fumbled for her wallet, but I held up a hand. “Don’t worry; I’ve got it,” I told her.
“You’re still not going to get to use my computer, just because you’ve bought me dinner,” Brittany said.
“Of course not,” I said. “I never dreamed of it.” I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, rather. I was trying to figure out just what she was thinking, though. Would I see her again? Or was I going to have to fight for that too? I knew she hadn’t wanted to come out with me in the first place, that she thought that I was trouble. And again, I couldn’t blame her for that.
But I also knew I needed to keep working on her. That there had to be some way I could convince her to let me borrow her computer.
Even if not, I wasn’t sure I wanted to cut her out of my life again. I was trying my hardest not to get my feelings tangled up in this, but it was difficult after I had known her for so long. For all I knew, though, she never wanted to see me again. After catching up with each other, and even though she still didn’t know why I wanted to borrow her computer, maybe this was the end of the train for us.
I shouldn’t have worried, though. Brittany’s curiosity could never let her leave a puzzle unanswered. It was part of what made both of us such good hackers.
She cocked her head to the side, a small smile on her face. “You’re not going to borrow my computer, but maybe, if you wanted, you could take me out for ice cream?” she suggested. “This has been fun.”
I grinned at her. “Sounds like a plan,” I said. I was pretty sure the last time I had been to Ginger’s Olde-Fashioned Ice Cream Shoppe had been with her, so it was pretty fitting for us to end to the night either way. And this had been fun; I was glad to hear she agreed.
I held out my arm to her and escorted her out of the restaurant and down the block to what had once been “our place.” Despite all the changes in the past six or seven years, something about it felt remarkably the same. Comfortable, right, familiar.
I tried to push those feelings away and focus on the fact that I needed a favor from her. But it was difficult to do.
8
Brittany
It was strange to be sitting across from Victor in Ginger’s again, as though things had never changed between us. Of course, I knew just what I was suggesting when I said he could take me for ice cream, and I knew that he would take the invitation at face value. But I guess I hadn’t thought through how strange it would feel to be back there with him.
“I would have thought you would be out of Greenboro by now,” Victor mused as he ate a scoop of his ice cream.
I sipped at my chocolate milkshake and shrugged. “I could say the same thing about you,” I pointed out. “Especially after your stint in juvie, I would have thought you’d head for somewhere where people didn’t know you or something.”
Victor shook his head. “I don’t know; no one’s been as bad about it as you might expect. I think they all knew I was just being a stupid kid at the time, that I didn’t mean anything by it. And by now, everyone’s just kind of used to it.” He paused. “The real reason I never left, though, was the club. Like I said, I made some contacts when I was in juvie. Otis pretty much saved my life. Who knows what the hell I would have done if it hadn’t been for him. He offered me the job straight away, without making me promise to go back to school or anything of that sort. Let me clean up my act.”
“Fair enough,” I said. I shook my head. “I just still have a hard time picturing you in an MC.” When he’d said it earlier, I had been sure he was joking about it. It was just so strange to imagine him on the back of a motorcycle. I’m sure he would have no problem picturing me on one, if our situations were reversed. Hell, I’d thought about getting my license before; I had just never really got around to it. There wasn’t a reason for it anyway, not when I lived within walking distance of, oh, pretty much the entire town.
But now, I was thinking about Victor on the back of a bike, and I kind of wanted one. It was kind of sexy, thinking about tough, brooding Victor as a biker. He didn’t quite fit the stereotype, but I could also see where maybe he might have more in common with those guys than what I was really picturing.
Victor shrugged. “The guys are great. Otis is like the father I never had. And the other guys are like my brothers. I know that if I ever got into any trouble, they’d have my back. Plus, I get to do the work I like doing. There’s nothing that can compare to that.”
“Sure,” I said, nodding.
Victor raised an eyebrow at me. “So what are you really doing when you’re not working at the bagel shop? I know you have to have something on the side, something that you like doing. You wouldn’t put up with it otherwise.” He paused. “Come on; I told you what I do.”
I laughed. “Fine, fair’s fair. I do some work for high-end clients. Not anything that can be traced back to me—just some research, kind of like you said.” I grinned sharply at him. “I’ve gotten pretty good at creating walls that can’t be breached.” It wasn’t an exaggeration. I was damned proud about some of the work I had done in recent years. And there was something in me that would always want Victor’s acknowledgment of a technical job well done. We’d been partners for a long time, in the scheme of things.
