Chapter 25

"Are you sure this is safe?"Eric asked, and I smothered a laugh as he tugged at the collar of his tan suit.

The moon was covered by clouds and a cold wind ruffled my hair. The scent of rain was pushed into my face, but it didn't land on me yet. This weather was fairly typical, since we were only a week out from Thanksgiving. It had taken us a bit to put together a business plan, but now that I had one, I was ready to charge forward.

I had to restart my life.

Tav squeezed my hand and his lips twisted in a small smile as we surveyed the Kings of Men clubhouse. The rambling two-story building wasn't quite what I'd expected. The navy blue siding was sleek and modern. In my head I'd imagined an Old West saloon, and I wasn't sure if this was a letdown or not. I guess I wanted the bikers to be together enough to make a business deal, so this was probably good. The only weird thing was that the windows on the first floor were covered with a film that made them completely opaque. Wouldn't that make things weirdly dark inside? Why did they do that?

With another squeeze of my hand, Tav huffed out a nervous little sound.

"You didn't have to come, Puffin." I kissed his knuckles.

"Well, the last time you met up with some bikers, you did get your arse kicked, so you know, I thought it might be wise to lend a hand." His eyes twinkled with amusement even though I knew he was at least partially serious.

Eric snorted but was polite enough to turn his reaction into a cough. "That's one thing I can say I've never done."

"What?" I asked, already shaking my head at him.

"Get my ass handed to me by bikers." He grinned.

"That's because this will be the first time you've ever talked to any," I pointed out snidely.

In the outdoor lights I could see his blush as he chuckled and massaged the back of his neck, clearly no less on edge than me.

"There was no last time." I leaned over and plopped a kiss on Tav's cheek. "What happened at the farmers' market was a misunderstanding." I rolled my eyes as we approached the entrance. There was loud music pouring out into the night air, which I guess was to be expected, and the red solid metal door was ajar and slightly off its hinges. Someone had spray-painted a detailed hand flipping the middle finger onto it.

We slowed and stopped, glancing back and forth at each other.

Tav cleared his throat. "Shep said to come over. He talked you up to his president, King. I'm pretty sure he felt some guilt at havin' hit you, since you're with me."

"King. That sounds like a humble man," Eric said, adjusting his tie.

"His given name's Aaron Arthur, but I'd stick with Mr. Arthur. Hear he's tetchy at times," Tav murmured.

The door burst open, causing us all to take a big step back.

Two women in leather pants and black tank tops stumbled outside, clinging to each other as they swayed like they were on a ship. The one on the left had brilliant green hair and squinted at Eric.

"You a cop?" she slurred. "Fuck you!"

Eric glanced down at his suit. "No?"

"Are you sure?" the other one asked, a teeny blonde. She pointed accusingly at Eric.

"He isn't the fuzz," I said, biting back a smirk.

The women eyed Eric suspiciously, and all at once, I was glad I'd chosen to wear a black sweater and jeans. Tav nearly matched me, except his sweater was white.

"Hey, someone get that big fucker. He's a cop!" the woman on the left with the green hair said. She stepped forward like she might take Eric out herself and slipped.

Tav rushed to catch her, lifting her into his arms.

"Hey, you're a nice big guy," she said, patting him on the chest. "Teddy bear."

"Let's get you safe, yes?" he said with a kind smile that was dying to transform into an entertained smirk. I could read him so well, and my heart panged as we shared a long look. I could guess the thoughts floating through his head. "You weren't planning to drive in this condition?" he asked sternly.

She shook her head. "No, we're waiting for someone."

"How about inside, huh? Where it's safer and warmer," he said cheerfully, then strode in, leaving me to give a helping arm to the small blonde.

The hallway directly inside the door was dim and I couldn't see very well, but beyond that was a barroom packed with people. As we entered the room, my ears rang from the volume of the music, and the loud crack of balls connecting on a pool table had me glancing to my left. A group of guys howled and laughed as the man holding a pool cue hung his head.

Tav took the woman over to one of the leather couches along the far wall and settled her on it, and I helped her friend flop down beside her. On our right was a bar so packed with people that I couldn't really see it, except occasionally I caught a hint of gleaming wood as the crowd shifted.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" a deep voice asked from behind me.

I groaned as one of the muscled men who'd been at the farmers' market stepped closer. He scowled as if he recognized me and didn't remember me fondly. I swore the tattoo on his throat of a skull with fire for eyes was glaring at me, too.

"Uh, I have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Arthur," I said, then winced when I realized my voice was higher than usual.

He glared at me before nodding and hooked his thumb toward a hallway. He took off ahead of us, leading the way.

"Are we sure this was a good choice?" Eric asked, bending close so he could shout-whisper into my ear.

I gestured for him to simmer down as we followed the man to a door, and he knocked. There were some loud words shouted from inside that I couldn't really decipher, then something that sort of sounded like "What the fuck do you want?"

The big man opened the door. "People here looking for you, Prez. One is in a suit."

"Let 'em in."

There was laughter from someone else in the room, and the big guy pushed open the door and glared at us as we walked past him. Cigar smoke hung in the air, and I was a little startled as I stepped inside. There was a pale man packed with firm, wiry muscles in a black leather kilt and nothing else sitting on a desk. He cooed at a monster of a muscled guy on his knees in front of him who stared upward with big adoring eyes.

"We don't beg," the kilted man said and booped the other one on the nose. "Do we?"

The man on the floor kissed the knee of his object of affection, and the guy on the desk smirked lovingly.

"If you're done ogling my treasurer, we can chat," a man said coldly from the corner of the room, and I spun in that direction. He was shrouded in shadow, and I'd walked right past him. There was a fire burning behind the desk and the air was pleasantly warm after the storm brewing outside. The man leaned forward on a red leather couch, and light from the flames flickered on his face as he puffed on his cigar. A bottle of rum caught the firelight and gleamed in his lap.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I thought this was going to be a business thing. I've caught you while you're in the middle of a party. We can come back on Monday," I said, fighting the urge to rub my hands on my sweater. Shit, this was so unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Did people really do business this way?

The man snorted and leaned farther forward, flashing me a steely smile. The firelight caught the silver in his brown hair and his stormy blue eyes were alert. He didn't look mean, exactly, but there was a hardness to the glare he gave me that had my stomach swooping. "I'll be asleep Monday morning. We're doing business now. Get over here." He gestured at the leather chairs near him. "Timmy, grab these men some glasses."

The man on the desk shot him a look and raised an eyebrow in his direction. I could read the "go fuck yourself" from here.

"Okay, fine." The man, who must be Mr. Arthur, snorted out a low laugh as he stood up and handed me the bottle of rum he'd had in his lap. "Hold on to that." He wandered toward an ebony bar in the corner of the room behind his desk and came back with glasses for everyone, minus the cigar. It was smoldering in an ashtray on the bar.

Eric's face was covered in sweat and he looked like he was going to pass out, but Tav seemed fine, and his confidence let me take a deep breath.

"Thank you," I said as Mr. Arthur walked around and poured rum into our glasses.

No ice.

No mixer.

Just rum.

Nerves bit at me as I introduced everyone, and Mr. Arthur grunted but didn't bother giving me a rundown of the other occupants in the room. He did cruise his gaze over Tav, though, which had my jaw hardening, but it seemed more like he was sizing him up than anything.

"Sheep says nothing but good things." He nodded at Tav. "As you might've heard, I'm looking for a good business or two to invest in," he said, and if I'd thought the fact that this man had a party raging outside his office meant he wouldn't be able to talk business, I could tell by his tone that I was mistaken. He sat down and slung his leg over the arm of the couch. "Wow me."

Eric and I looked at each other, and my heart hammered. I felt so out of my element, but I nodded at Eric.

Mr. Arthur drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee.

Eric cleared his throat and smiled. "We're looking for serious investors," he said, then winced his way through sipping the rum in his glass. "Uh, you see, we're in the tire business. I don't know if you've ever been to the tire expos, but most of our people used to work at Dailey Tires, a very well-established local company."

"What kind of tires?" the man on the desk asked, letting me know that even if his eyes were locked on the boy toy at his feet, he was definitely paying attention.

It was time for me to take the plunge. "Well, ice tires, to be exact. I was the president of Dailey Tires and that was our big project while I was there. Due to several contracts, I can't work on the same exact thing we were doing at my old company, but I was thinking about doing ice tires for motorcycles, which was part of why I thought we might be a good fit for each other. Of course, they can't completely stop a motorcycle from sliding on the ice, but they grip much better than what is currently on the market and would let people ride longer into the winter. Be good for things like ice races for dirt bikes. Stuff like that."

The man in the kilt walked over and stared down at me with his arms crossed. His nipple piercings glinted as he twisted to share a long look with Mr. Arthur, but then his intense blue gaze fixed on me. "Would those tires also grip on sand?" he asked, tone slightly warmer.

I glanced at Eric.

He nodded.

"We could test for it," I said.

"Yeah, I'm in." He went back over to the desk to pace around the man on the floor. "I'll try those."

"Oh, we just needed someone to invest," I said with a grin. "You don't need to be involved at all if you don't have the time."

Mr. Arthur grunted. "You're not getting my money for a product we can't see, but if you'll let Timmy test out the tires, I'm all in. I need something that makes sense for me to be involved in, and as soon as Sheep told me what you were up to, it seemed too good to be true." He slammed back a glass of rum. "So, I wanna make sure it isn't. And if you're on the level, I'm good. I'm in."

"Just like that?" I asked, delight skittering down my spine. "I mean, great!"

Tav rested a hand on my thigh, almost like he was trying to tell me something, but I was excited. This was the final pot of cash we needed to really start focusing on the work.

"Well, I'll shoot you if you're fucking lying about the product or anything else, so I feel pretty confident in investing." Mr. Arthur tipped his head back and rested it against the couch while he took a healthy swallow from his rum bottle. His empty glass teetered precariously on his knee but didn't fall.

My heart rate tripled, and Tav laughed like that wasn't the scariest fucking thing in the world. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and he patted my leg.

"I've been in a car usin' similar technology while it was on ice. It drove more or less like it was on solid ground. Judah only supports products that are good." Tav's Scottish accent was prominent, and I wondered what had caused that. If he was nervous, I couldn't tell.

"I heard you got fired from your last job," Mr. Arthur said, then stood and hissed as he stretched out his lower back, and the empty glass shattered on the floor. He barely glanced in the direction of the mess. "Come on."

My stomach dropped. Fuck, why was he offering to invest, then? He had said that like it didn't matter too much, more like a casual observation. Clearly, he'd researched us and wasn't diving into this with his eyes closed.

Me, Eric, and Tav stared at each other, but then we followed Mr. Arthur out through the party. He didn't stop to look around or even seem to register the chaos in progress. His movements were loose as he set the bottle of rum on the bar on his way past. The crowd parted like water for him. We dodged dancing drunk people who had darted out of his way but seemed determined to get into ours. Sloppy kissing and grinding and obnoxious laughter bombarded me from all sides.

By the time we escaped the noise, Mr. Arthur was standing outside next to a motorcycle. The wind lifted his hair and in his black leather jacket with his arms crossed, he seemed almost melancholy. And what a motorcycle. Unfortunately, I didn't know much about them. I let out a whistle as he gestured at the custom steampunk pipework. Everything was shiny, clean, and extraordinarily complicated to look at.

"Timmy takes his shit seriously," Mr. Arthur said, and there was a bit of a slur to his words, but he stood rock solid. "If you put something on his bike that's going to kill him, or anyone in this club, he'll be pissed, but more importantly, I'll make you eat a bullet if it hurts him. I'll drown your whole family in blood if it's worse than that."

My heart nearly stopped. He sounded dead serious.

"Everythin' will be tested as much as it can before anyone takes it out on the road," Tav said, nonchalant. Jesus, maybe he should be running this company.

I cleared my throat.

Eric's jaw was tense.

"I won't do anything to hurt anyone. We didn't cut corners at the old business, and we won't here," I said, holding out my hand.

Mr. Arthur tilted his head, then shook with me. "What happened there? I heard rumors that there was some sort of drama." He waved his hand around. "That won't happen with the company I'm investing in, will it?" He scowled.

"Uh, unless you somehow magically hire my mother to take it over and fire me because she doesn't like my boyfriend, then no." I rolled my eyes. I hadn't talked about what had happened with any of the other people I was investing with, but I got the idea that Mr. Arthur wouldn't be satisfied by any of the gossip he'd heard swirling around. "I didn't fuck anything up there. My mom was able to edge me out because of her contacts and did it out of spite."

His eyebrows shot up. "So, this is like, a revenge company?" He grinned. "Revenge investment. I like the ring of it."

"I guess you could say that."

He snorted, then chuckled and scratched his jaw while eyeing up the shiny motorcycles outside the clubhouse. I was surprised when he took a step closer—because he was taller than I'd first realized—and only had to tilt his chin a little to look me in the eye. "You should name this line of tires Vengeance."

"Hey, that's not bad, actually." Eric grinned at me. At this point, what had happened with the company was old news to him, and he'd been one of the few people who had been solidly on my side when I'd said I was going to build another one.

I shrugged and my heart ached. I wasn't ready to joke about my family falling apart yet. "I like it. Sure! So, you're going to want to be directly involved?" My stomach twisted into knots.

He studied me and slipped his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "This is a bike club. It's really cool to be involved in something that might directly affect bike safety. I like the idea of it." He sighed as the guy in the kilt—I was guessing his name was Tim—came wandering out to stand staring at the bike.

Tim glided a hand over the bike seat and cocked an eyebrow at Mr. Arthur.

Mr. Arthur nodded at him, and they seemed to be having some sort of deep, silent communication that only happened with years of knowing a person.

"Okay, we're going to invest with you," Tim said, and I was surprised by his smooth business tone, given his black makeup and the nipple piercings and everything. "I'll come visit you at your office on Monday because, unlike Aaron, I do keep business hours when necessary. We'll discuss how much we're willing to invest with your company, and we'll hash out the details. You'll be working with me with the understanding that my king has the final say." He glanced at Mr. Arthur. "I'm more business oriented. But be warned, I'm not the nicer one." He flashed me a sharp-toothed grin. "If you lie to us, I'll be even less inclined than King to give you a second chance."

I shrugged. "I'm not lying about anything. I just need investors for a solid business, and I want to make us all a good bit of money. I can't guarantee that'll happen, but I'll do my damnedest to try."

Mr. Arthur nodded and clapped his hands. "All right. So, like what? Five million? What are you looking for?"

I almost swallowed my tongue. "You're willing to buy-in for five million?"

He stared up at the sky for a few seconds while Tim intently watched his face. "I could go up to ten."

Tim nodded but still stared at Mr. Arthur. I would need to get a read on him if I would be dealing with him, but it was difficult to tell what type of person he was—other than loyal to the club president.

Then, what Mr. Arthur had said blasted through my brain, and my jaw dropped. They really did need a place to put their money. I got myself together and walked closer to him. "This won't bite me on the ass, will it?" I whispered.

Mr. Arthur slung his arm across my shoulders. He had to stretch, but he managed to do it. "Do you care? Or do you want to get back at the person who fucked you over?" He barked out a laugh.

Tim eyed me and stepped closer until I backed away from Mr. Arthur, and then he seemed to relax, but I got the impression he wouldn't mind hurting me if he thought it was necessary.

"I don't want revenge. I just want the pride of knowing that I'm doing good work." I puffed out my cheeks, and Mr. Arthur shook his head.

"Not even a little revenge?" Tim asked, pouting his lips at me.

"Okay, a little," I said with a sigh, and both men laughed.

"Come back inside and have drinks," Mr. Arthur said. "Business is over. Stay and get your party on."

"Oh, I have to—" Eric pointed toward his car, but Mr. Arthur grabbed his arm and marched him toward the front door of the clubhouse.

"I can't do business with someone I can't have a fuckin' drink with. Come on!"

Tav grinned, and I laughed as I trailed after them. When I made it to the door, Tim grabbed my arm and pulled me aside with a firm grip. "I have zero interest in watching your friend drink until he's puking," he said mildly. "Tell me about these tires." His intense gaze stared directly into my soul, but this I could do. This was exactly what I'd been good at prior to the shake-up.

"Well," I said, rubbing my hands together with a grin. "We've been testing them out, and they're big tires, but they're doing a great job." I spent a few minutes rattling off specs while he nodded and asked very pointed, well-informed questions about everything from the tires to our business plan.

After I felt like I'd talked all I could about tires, he nodded and stared pensively toward the bikes.

"There's some more tweaking to be done, but I'm very proud of what we've managed to accomplish in such a short amount of time," I said.

"Go over your business plan again," he said, pinning me in place with his gaze. There was something about the way he watched me that was almost creepy, but in the end, I realized most people just didn't focus on others with that total lack of distraction. I felt weirdly seen and unable to do anything but exactly what he'd asked.

I talked until I was hoarse, and by the time I was done, I was feeling much better because I'd already been promised that the entire motorcycle club would use our tires for winter riding if they lived up to the hype, and if the Kings of Men MC was using them, that meant other riders in the area would try them.

I was over the moon.

When we finally went inside again, the party was in full swing, and I found Tav having a conversation at the bar with his friend, Shep. I wandered over, and Shep swung around on his stool.

"Hey, man, sorry about, you know," he said with a wince, lightly resting his knuckles against my cheek. He had the relaxed look of someone who had been indulging in some THC.

I shrugged. "It's okay. Thanks for sticking up for Tav."

"Oh, geez," Tav said, hiding his face with his hands as he grinned.

I gaped. "Tavish! Are you drunk?"

He snickered and shook his head, and I'd never seen anything so adorable in my life as when he looked up at me with a flushed face. "Nah."

"Yes, you're drunk!"

He busted out in snickers again, and Shep grinned. "I have to get back to Jonas. Have fun," he said to Tav, then shook my hand before he squeezed his way through some people to get off the bar stool. I slid in beside Tav, an amusement so deep and wonderful I couldn't quite put a label on it taking me over.

"You got drunk with bikers," I said in his ear. He was all smiles, and I wanted to pinch his cheek.

"Nah." He swatted at me, and I wrapped my arm around his waist, delighted when he snuggled in. We were big, and if we weren't careful, we'd knock each other off the stools.

"Where is Eric? Nancy won't forgive me if we lose him," Tav said.

Eric was having a very intense conversation with a man who had silver hair and a scar over one eye and down his jaw. They were gesturing as they talked, but they were both moving loosely, and I did predict a hangover in his future.

"Dance with me!" Tav said, staring around with a bright smile. "No one here will care. I've never danced with you!"

I looked out at the tangle of swaying bodies, and before I could suggest I take him to a club with more room—and fewer drunk bikers who might punch me—he was dragging me into the middle of the chaos.