“I spoke to Vi, explained I’d like to know more about her old man before she proceeds. Vi might be able to get more out of her than we could.”
“She relaxed when she saw she was going to be dealing with a woman.” I stare at the closed door Shayla’s now seated behind. “You could be right, Liz. She might talk to Vi. She’s a looker though, isn’t she?”
“Not bad. Could do with a little more meat on her bones. But her eyes, man. You see those?”
I nod. I had. “Seen more alive ones on a corpse,” I agree, knowing exactly what he’s getting at. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so easy getting her into my bed after all.
We shoot the shit for a while, then the bell dings again, and Liz, seeing Jonah and his brother both occupied, gives his attention to the man who’s arrived. As Liz takes him on back, I settle down, flicking through a tattoo magazine, getting some ideas for a new tat I’m planning for on my chest.
I look up at one point and get a smile from Vi as she goes to the copier, puts paper in, gets paper out, and disappears back to her station. A short while later, Shayla reappears. I go to stand, but stop as Vi catches my eye and shakes her head.
“We can start Monday,” she tells Shayla. “Any particular time?”
They sort out times, then Shayla asks, “And you can work with my friend, too? Can she come along then? She’s, er, nervous.”
“Sure, no problem. We’ll see how we go. I’ll put aside enough time to do the outline for both. But discuss it with her, she might want something different to you.”
“Thank you so much.” Shayla seems to sigh with relief. “You don’t know how much better I’ll feel to have this gone.”
“Happy to help.” Vi smiles at her. “I’ll see you soon. Have a good weekend.”
The door opens, dings, then closes again, and then, she’s gone. I notice Vi standing, staring at the now empty doorway.
“You get anything out of her?” I’d wanted to question Shayla myself, but know my normal methods of interrogation probably wouldn’t have gotten results. At least I know when she’ll be here again, if I’m going to have to bring my enforcer skills into play. Hopefully, I won’t have to. I raise a quizzical brow at Vi.
She nods. “Yeah. I need to talk to you.”
At that moment, Liz walks out, giving instructions to his client about aftercare. When the man’s gone, he looks at Vi, unknowingly repeating my question. “You get anything out of that woman?”
Vi jerks her head toward the small staff room at the rear, and Liz and I both follow her.
She busies herself putting the coffee machine on and gets down three cups after querying me with a look.
“There’s something odd there. I’d say that tat wasn’t wanted.”
Lizard snorts. I roll my eyes. Fair bet if she wants that shit covered. Vi shakes her head. “I don’t mean that,” she starts. “I mean, that it wasn’t her choice to have it in the first place.”
“She say that?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
“Not in so many words. But she’s very eager to see it gone.” Vi presses her lips together. “I’m going to do this, Liz. I know you’ve got concerns, but if I’m right and that tattoo was put on without her permission. If she was forced, well, that’s abuse, plain and simple.”
“I don’t disagree, Vi,” Liz tells her. “If she needs it covered ‘cause she didn’t want it there, then we’ll do something she does want instead. Did you talk about removal?”
Vi nods. “Yes, but I think she’s looked into laser treatment. She’s worried that that might show something had been there. People will always know she had a tramp stamp removed. She wants it to look like something she always intended.”
“Did you find out anything about this Major?” I ask.
She shakes her head while pouring coffee into the cups. “I did start to ask whether he was a biker, but she clammed up. I didn’t want to press her too much today. I thought she might give me more when she comes back.”
“She liked your ideas?”
Vi smiles. “Of course she did. It’s not going to be easy hiding that script, but I’m sure I can do it.”
“What are you planning?”
As Liz asks, Vi goes to get her artwork, and the two bend heads over it. Feeling like a third wheel, I drain my coffee and take my leave. To be honest, I’m not sure they noticed me go.
I take the long way around back to the compound. Actually, I detour from the route quite a way, enjoying my day off that Pyro, the manager of the auto-shop had given me. Why waste it when I can get the wind in my hair and some pavement under my wheels? I ride with no particular destination, eventually arriving home with a clear head, red windblown cheeks and a smile on my face.
When I ride up to the gates, I notice the commotion. Leaving my bike at the side of the road, as Dirt, one of the new prospects we’ve only just appointed, seems intent on not opening the gate. Wondering whether he’s being overly cautious or proving his worth to the club, I slip down my bandana, tuck my Ray-Bans into my pocket and am pulling off my gloves as I approach the car and its driver standing beside it. My smile gone, I now wear my best enforcer face.
“What’s going on?”
Dirt sends me a look full of gratitude. “This woman wants to see Lizard.”
Unashamedly, I blatantly check her out. She’s in her early or mid-thirties by my estimation, but not past her prime. Red hair, either naturally sleek or artificially straightened, reaches down her back. As she turns, I notice stunning green eyes and full lips which draw my attention. Her figure is hidden by her jacket, but her legs are encased in a pair of tight denim jeans. Nice ass. If she was younger, I’d be jealous she was asking for my brother and not here for me.
“What do you want with Lizard?”
She’s also examining me, and her lips press together tightly. A wave of something like pain shutters her features as she thinks on whether to enlighten me as to the reason why she’s here. I don’t leap to the obvious that Liz has gotten a town woman pregnant. I’ve never known him to go with a woman other than the whores we keep for that purpose.
Instead of explaining her presence, she asks a question of her own. “How is he?” She looks like she’s holding her breath for the answer.
The enquiry takes me unawares, and automatically I reply, “Same as he’s ever been. Now answer me, what do you want with him?”
“That’s between him and me,” she replies quickly. “Look, is he here? Or if not, where can I find him?”
“Who are you?” We don’t give information about brothers lightly.
“Evangeline James,” she replies with no hesitation. A slight lift of her eyebrow suggests she’s querying whether I’ve heard her name. “Vanna?” She then offers what appears to be a shortened version.
“Are you a sister?” She shares his surname. It’s odd, Liz has no family of which I’m aware, and my senses become heightened.
She huffs, looks at the ground, then stares blankly into the distance.
“Cousin?” I try again. That might make more sense, Lizard mightn’t have mentioned extended family.